Small Favors

 

AN:  This will be the so-called Version #1.  If there is time (and I do hope there is) Version #2 will be written. 

 

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Kuromei:  Thanks for your input!  It’s highly appreciated :)

 

Tainted_Emerald:  I think it’s a safe bet that Daxter’s stamina will be pretty impressive.  Jak may have his “work” cut out for him.  Somehow, I don’t think he minds...  I’d like to continue this for a little while, in shorter installments.  It’s somehow soothing to write it, haha.

 

Reva:  I like to think the boys are close enough to do this kind of thing with one another, even if it never cumulated in any kind of long term romantic relationship.  Also, I think your English is very good.  Thank you for commenting!

 

Skunktail:  Thanks for your vote!  Version one it is, for now, with a very probable second version later.

 

Branny:  I’m gonna continue it, don’t worry.  You’re right, I got fond of writing furry Dax.

 

Amaronith:  Let the flood of fuzzy ottsel love commence!  Rock on.  Thanks for reading, and double thanks for poking me to update. Looks like it did the trick!

 

Midnight Desires:  I writed more.  Here you go.   ^_^

 

Connor:  I’m so glad you liked it!  Thanks for encouraging a bit of originality, too.

 

Jesa: My perverted little soul thanks you, from its very bottom.  Weirdness is the spice of life, right?

 

Mysterious Angel-05:  Thanks for reading so much of my stuff!  I appreciate all the comments and ideas.

 

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WARNING:  Just another little heads up for this chapter, and the rest of this version of the story: the ottsel’s anatomy will be less than traditional.  There is now a reason the story has a “herm” tag.  If this makes you go ick, I would advise waiting for the second version. 

 

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At first, Jak’s own orgasm kept him from feeling that something wasn’t quite right.  The awareness of increasing wetness against his fingertips as his hand slipped further back between Daxter’s legs took a backseat to the tremors wracking his own body.  Just in time he remembered Tess, how close she actually was, hoped for a split second that they were being quiet enough, and managed to choke back the loud moan that would have assuredly blown their cover if it hadn’t been blasted sky high already. 

    

Daxter let out a moan in counterpoint of triumph laced with desperation as he lapped at Jak’s release.  It overflowed his smaller mouth, dripping down into the fur of his chest and onto Jak’s thighs.  Before the green-blonde could make a move to collect his scattered wits and find something to wipe the mess up with, a scratchy tongue was already taking care of it.  Dax had to know he wasn’t expected to lick all of it up—or any of it, for that matter.  Perhaps it was simply another deeply buried critter instinct.

    

“Dax, that’s amazing.  Perfect.”

    

Thoughtlessly Jak let himself fondle and squeeze at the furry rear that was moving so insistently back against his hand.  It was a lovely size, really.  A perfect handful.  Daxter panted breathlessly, legs spread wide, back claws tense in the blankets.  His cheek and soggy chest pressed into Jak’s equally damp hip and thigh as he trembled.  His tail draped over Jak’s hand, almost as if trying to ensure that he didn’t let go. 

    

“Jaaaak…”

    

The hero laughed weakly.  “Anything you say.”  Daxter could have asked for the moon at that point, and Jak would have done his level best to get it for him on a silver platter before morning.

    

Strong fingers tucked back between shaking thighs.  The ottsel let out an “ah!” of surprise and delight as they traced through the dripping fluid there, squirming against the touch in obvious search of more. 

    

Jak smiled languidly, moving his fingers in small circles around the tiny globes they met.  Jeez, it was wet down there.  His friend’s fuzzy balls were nearly sopping.  It was almost funny, really.  He wondered if Daxter had managed to come again without him even being aware of it. 

    

“A little sloppy down here.  Did you like getting me off that much?”

    

“Oh, yeah.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

    

It was hard to resist asking a simple question—is the grass purple?—just to see if Dax would answer any query in the affirmative right then.  Jak managed it, though.  Some situations called for a little more maturity than others.  He just concentrated on stroking through the gathering liquid from shaft to sac, intent on trying to provide as much friction to as much furry flesh as possible. 

    

Gathering liquid.  More of it all the time.  Just where, if the ottsel really hadn’t climaxed a second time, was it all coming from?  Jak’s brain caught up enough to ask the suddenly important question at almost the same moment his fingers missed their mark.  They slid behind his friend’s lower equipment, jabbing unintentionally—and slipped easily, with another rush of warm wetness, into what felt for all the world like a ready opening.

    

Daxter actually screamed, a sharp burst of sound that morphed into a groan as Jak wrenched his hand away. 

    

The green-blonde’s eyes shot down to said hand in shock, momentarily terrified he would see blood in the dim light.  He didn’t, of course.  Only clear fluid, moderately viscous and slick, shone on his fingers.  “Dax, what is this stuff?  What did I just touch on you?”

    

Daxter was absolutely no help.  He kept rubbing and rolling against Jak’s leg, muttering feverishly under his breath as if he hadn’t even heard the questions.  Jak could see the shimmer of wetness in the fur between his legs, beneath the base of his tail.  Enough of this; he wanted to know what was going on down there.

    

“Daxter, let me see!”

    

Quickly he grabbed for the loose skin at the back of his smaller friend’s neck.  It was something that he never, ever did if he could possibly help it.  A gentle but firm grip there could all but paralyze the ottsel, rendering him limp in whosever grasp he had been snared.  Pure and simple reflexes getting the better of him.  He was always furious afterward.  But now, Jak decided, it was necessary.  He caught Dax easily, a little pinch to the malleable skin just above narrow shoulder blades, and rolled him over onto his back without easing the hold.

    

As predicted, Dax went limp at the pressure.  He threw his head back onto Jak’s hand where it held him by the base of the neck, moaning softly.  A few stuttered purrs managed to slip free as he stretched out as much as he was able, twisted into an upside down arch, and presented Jak with a perfect view of exactly what was going on down below.

    

If the young hero had thought the night couldn’t get any stranger, he had been sadly mistaken.  It took long moments of staring, disregarding the weak half-struggles of the ottsel to cant his pelvis into contact with something that wasn’t thin air, for Jak to fathom what he was looking at. 

    

“Dax.”

    

Moan.  Groan.  Purr.  Twist.

    

“Daxter.”  Jak gave a little shake to the scruff he held.  “Dax.  Pay attention.  I asked you something.  What is this?”

    

What is was was actually pretty clear.  Jak just had trouble believing what he was seeing.  What he had almost mistaken for some sort of open wound upon accidental contact proved, on closer inspection, to be an opening of an altogether different kind.  Between tail base and testicles was an obvious slit, gleaming with spreading moisture.  Faint lips cradled it, reddened and slightly puffy.  How he had possibly missed something like this during his previous explore Jak had no idea, unless the opening had been very small to begin with and then slowly gotten larger in response to their activities.  That made a very strange kind of almost-sense—but where was Daxter’s response to this?

    

“Dax!”

    

“Hmmm.”

    

“What.  Is.  This?”  Summoning his nerve, Jak gently trailed the tip of a single finger down the center of the slit to punctuate the question. 

    

That got the ottsel’s attention.  Blue eyes snapped open in shock, then fluttered closed.  His hips jerked reflexively; not away from the trespassing finger, but towards it.  “Nnh!  Jak!”  The arc his back described grew even more pronounced as he bent, supple as a wet noodle, offering up his lower half.  “Touch, touch touch touchtouchtouch—!”

    

A large hand descended on the middle of Daxter’s stomach, just out of reach of the seeking tip of his shaft. 

   

“If you don’t tell me why you never mentioned this before, there will be no more touching.”  Jak let his voice go low and growly, the same tone he used when warning Daxter of the consequences of some minor transgression or another.  “I’ll get up and leave, and there won’t be any more of this.”  He didn’t think the tone sounded all that convincing (and neither had Daxter, during the previous incidents) but maybe it would have some effect now that the stakes were a little higher.

    

“No!  Don’t leave!”  Dax froze suddenly, breaths harsh, eyes wet and wary.  He gazed up at Jak imploringly, while the green-blonde tried to steel his resolve.  It seemed he had hit on exactly the right threat.  “I… I never said nothin’ ‘bout it b’fore?  You sure?”

    

“No, you didn’t.  Trust me.  I would have remembered.  Why didn’t you tell me that you’re…?”  He didn’t want to insinuate, in any way, that his friend was anything less than purely masculine.  Even if evidence that seemed to point to the contrary was staring him in the face.  Even if he could probably spank Daxter and call him his pretty little bitch right at that moment, and the other was so horny it wouldn’t even register as an insult. 

    

Dax squirmed, looking even more uncomfortable.  “I guess, ‘cause… it didn’t matter much at first.  Bein’ an ottsel was weird enough by itself.  Didn’t even notice.  Then I started feelin’… it gets, um, when I feel…”  Fuzzy ears drooped, and he looked away.  “S’just embarrassing.”

    

Ooooh.  When he put it like that, Jak could definitely understand why he would be reluctant to bring up the subject of extra anatomy in his furry new form.  “Uh, yeah.  I guess it kind of would be.  Sorry.  I just wanted to, ah…”  Jak cleared his throat rather awkwardly.  “Just wondered.”

    

“S’okay.  Ya never could resist pokin’ around where yer not supposed to, huh?”  Dax smiled up at him weakly, ears still at half mast.  The forced interruption seemed to have brought him back to his senses somewhat.  “Listen, pal, I know it’s weird.  You don’t hafta mess with it if ya don’t wanna.  What we’ve been doin’ is fine.  Great.”

    

“But you like it… there.”  Yes, Jak was still a little weirded out.  But really, what was a little more weird to an already phenomenally weird night?  He was buzzed.  He could handle it.  Besides, he did feel he owed Dax something after so unthinkingly forcing his friend to acknowledge head on just how strange his ottsel body was.

    

Daxter swallowed audibly, squirming again despite himself.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I like it there.”

    

It was all the affirmation the hero needed.  Petting gently through Daxter’s chest fur with one hand, fingers contritely combing the yellow strands stiffening with his own dried release, he curled the other hand around the ottsel’s hip once more.  The touch was greeted by a stifled whimper as long legs parted wider than ever in blatant, though nearly silent, encouragement.  Jak shifted until he was once again lying across the bed on his stomach, a much more comfortable position than hunching over.  Once he was settled to his satisfaction he hesitated but a moment before tracing the pad of his thumb carefully down the center of that slippery crease so eagerly presented before him.

    

“Precursors, Jak, quit teasin’!” 

    

The demand, hissed between gritted teeth, threw Jak straight back to Sandover—holding some desired object or another over his shorter friend’s head, grinning idiotically as the redheaded boy swore at him and finally stooped to jumping for whatever it was he wanted.  One look at Daxter’s face now, though, changed Jak’s tune.  The look there could have almost been anguish, and his small hands were clenched so tightly in the blankets the green-blonde could see muscle and sinew standing out beneath the fur of his arms.

    

“Hey, shh.  I am.” 

    

Jak’s mouth was suddenly dry.  He was abruptly reminded, quite clearly, just how much experience he had hitherto with handling less-than-manly body parts:  absolutely none, if fantasies didn’t count, and he was pretty sure they didn’t.  Cocks surely didn’t count.  He had one of those, and so knew basically what to do with someone else’s.  But this?  All he could do was proceed with caution and trust that Dax would clue him in if he messed up.

    

Swirling the wetness there with one fingertip, Jak rubbed slowly from the top of the cleft to the bottom.  Despite the gasp the action earned him, he didn’t try to move the finger inside.  He had accidentally done it once already, to some degree, and he was lucky it hadn’t hurt his little buddy.  Compared to him, Daxter was positively tiny.  He wouldn’t chance hurting the ottsel by being too forward.

    

Unfortunately for Jak and his good intentions, the ottsel in question didn’t seem to appreciate the forethought.  He groaned in frustration, undulating under the hand on his belly that tried to keep him still.  An arm was raised as he unconsciously nipped and worried at the fur on the back of one hand in his distress. 

    

“Jak, please!”  He whimpered around the hand at his mouth, the fur in his teeth.  “I am literally beggin’ ya, here, pal!  Please, please stick somethin’ inside me or I’m gonna scream!” 

    

“Whoa, no, don’t scream,” Jak hushed, an odd combination of soothing and commanding.  There was some reason they needed to be quiet, if he could remember what it was...  Oh, yeah.  Tess.  “Dax, I don’t know how big you are… in there.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

    

“Ya won’t!  I can fit all my goddam fingers in there, sheesh!”

    

“Great, then do it now so I won’t have to worry about screwing up your insides.”  Jak flicked his ears, half in annoyance and half because he was hot, even undressed in the cool room.

    

“You honestly think I wouldn’t ’a done that already if it’d work?!”  Lunging up into a sitting position, Daxter forcefully seized double handfuls of the cascading hair at either side of the green-blonde’s face.  Their noses were suddenly pressed together, the dry pad of the ottsel’s terribly warm against Jak’s own as Dax stared his startled friend straight in the eye.  “It, is not, enough!  Comprende, amigo?  I need you to fuck me, right now!  Please!”

    

It occurred to a very flustered Jak that he had never heard Daxter say please so often in his entire life.  It also occurred to him in passing that he had never worried about being bitten by an ottsel before that night, either, but right then he was seriously contemplating how badly that might hurt.  The eyes centimeters from his own harbored a kind of intensity he had never seen before from his friend.  Had he not been half aroused again already, the sparks of sapphire flame in those familiar eyes would have had him hard in a moment.

    

Rather than answering, Jak simply dropped a hand to its former battle station and slowly but smoothly slipped his index finger into the waiting warmth.  Insistent muscles immediately clenched around it as Daxter arched and hissed like the animal he appeared to be, unintentionally jerking at the locks of hair he still held. 

    

“Yesss!  Just like that, Jakkie-boy.  Jus’ like that.”

    

The enormity of what was happening was slowly sneaking up on the hero.  The blush he thought he had dismissed half an hour ago was back with a vengeance.  He lowered his head until his hot face pressed into the soft fur of Daxter’s side, his cheek a mere breath from a still exposed and wanting shaft.  Jak felt sorry for it, being abandoned for newer territory, and distractedly decided to do something about it.  In a minute.  When he had his composure back.

    

It went on that way for several minutes.  Daxter’s hips moved in time with his gentle fingering, the pants, whimpers, and litany of soft words never ceasing.  Jak decided that he liked the feel of the passage clenching around his finger, warm and silky wet.  The ottsel’s obvious bliss coaxing him on, he picked up a bit of speed.  Press in, pull out.  Press in a little deeper, drag along the sides on the pull out. 

    

“Jak… Jak…”  Daxter babbled almost helplessly, breath hitching on every inhale until it sounded like he was sobbing. 

    

“Wanna come, Dax?”

    

The choked exclamation would have been more than enough of a ‘yes’ without a thick tail thrashing, whacking the green-blonde’s upper arm hard enough to actually sting, but it made Jak smile anyway.  This was Daxter.  His Daxter.  Snarky, stubborn, independent, desperate-to-be-normal Daxter, begging Jak for release. 

    

What happened next was nearly reflexive.  The sudden surge of renewed feelings hit him and Jak lifted his face from the softness of Daxter’s middle, tilted his head just enough to trail his tongue up the length of his friend’s arousal.  At the same time, almost without meaning to, his finger slipped completely free from between the ottsel’s legs and returned with a second.

    

“Oh, sweet fuckin’ Precursors!” Daxter wailed, face screwing up in ecstasy as he slammed himself down on Jak’s hand.

    

Jak was aware of Dax pulling his hair, probably by accident.  He was aware, with some concern, of the increased tightness around his fingers.  He was especially aware of the cock twitching against his tongue, and the sudden presence of said cock inside his mouth when Daxter bucked frantically.  The green-blonde had only a startled moment to wonder what he should do with it before his tongue was coated in hot, thick liquid.  With just a second to decide, Jak went with the option that seemed both somehow more chivalrous and less messy—he swallowed, gulping with some difficulty and trying not to think about it.

    

Furry knees clamping around his arm let Jak know he wasn’t allowed to move just yet.  Very carefully he slid his fingers in as far as was possible; all the way, he marveled absently.  Daxter convulsed for a few more seconds as his inner muscles massaged Jak’s fingers.  Gently rubbing with them earned a strained gasp and one last shudder before Dax collapsed spread-eagled, panting harshly.  For a moment there was silence, broken only by two sets of flustered breathing. 

    

The respite was short-lived. 

    

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jak moaned.

    

The ottsel was still hard.

    

Completely winded, if only for the moment, Daxter cracked open one blue eye to glance up at his friend.  He grinned weakly at the dumbfounded, but undeniably aroused, look on Jak’s flushed face.  “Heh.  Gimme… gimme a sec, pal.  M’not done with you yet.  No way.”

    

“Dax, this is… this is crazy.  You can’t still want more.”  Jak desperately tried to ignore the insistent ache between his own legs, grinding his hips into the mattress as subtly as he could manage.  “You have to be exhausted.  Get some rest, alright?” 

    

He did not want Daxter to refuse sleep and insist on pleasuring Jak again.  Did not.  Not not not.  He wanted what was best for his friend.  Did not want to pin the little ottsel to the mattress with one big hand and rub his erection into the satiny fur of Daxter’s belly until he came.  Of course not. 

    

It seemed as if he need not have worried.  Daxter showed no signs of listening to him.  In fact, he was already propping himself up on his arms to smile up at his larger friend.  “It’s okay.  I totally got this.”

    

“Got what?” Jak asked warily, moving back slightly to allow Dax to clamber unsteadily to his feet. 

    

“Got everything.  Got it all figured out, Jakkie-boy.”

    

The ottsel wobbled a bit on the mattress, his sea legs temporarily out of commission.  The huge, dreamy grin on his face seemed to make up for any lack of coordination, though.  Jak also couldn’t help but smile a little despite himself at the sight of Daxter’s unflagging arousal, proudly stiff and upright, probably making standing a little more uncomfortable.  Below it, the orange fur around his hitherto hidden entrance and the fur down the inside of his legs was soaked with moisture.  Jeez. 

    

Surreptitiously Jak lifted his hand and contemplated the shiny streaks slowly drying on it.  What the hell.  He licked at it quickly, before he could change his mind.  Salty and musky.  A different taste than the ottsel’s ejaculate.  Not terrible, by any means.  Almost giddy, feeling more drunk than he had out at the bar counter, Jak laughed.  “You know, I’d hate to think about the blisters you’d have on your palms if I wasn’t here tonight.” 

    

“I know, right?”  Daxter waved at the green-blonde, shooing him back, and Jak took the hint.  He crawled up and sat back against the headboard as the ottsel wobbled up to his side.  “Don’t worry ‘bout it.  I’m gonna take care’a you, hot stuff.  Jus’ wait.  Gonna be great.”

    

“Um… Dax?”  Though his dick was telling him to shut the hell up already and enjoy the ride, Jak couldn’t help but be concerned.  Daxter looked almost drugged as he placed his hands on Jak’s upper arm and one back paw landed experimentally on his thigh.  What could he be up to now?

    

“Y’know yer my hero right now, Jak?” Daxter purred as he slowly straddled his companion’s lap.  Jak immediately tensed.  “You are.  Y’make me feel safe an’ slutty at the same time.  How d’you do that, pal?  It’s like I’m all yers, an’ you could do anythin’ to me, anythin’… but yer so gentle.  Make me feel amazing.”  That look was back in his eyes as he cooed up at Jak.  Greedy, loving, nearly adoring.  “I’mna make you feel good too, big guy.  So good.”

    

Finally getting Daxter’s drift, Jak reached out to catch slim hips in his hands.  He swallowed, throat tight, and pulled his friend the scant distance it took to press their arousals together.  Daxter’s smaller length was no less hot and hard up against his own.  His fur against Jak tickled and teased.  Oh, damn.  Dax was right.  This was going to feel so good. 

     

“Hey!  What’re ya doing?”

    

At the ottsel’s distressed whine, Jak quickly looked down.  “Huh?  What do you mean, what am I doing?  I’m—”

    

Then, Jak knew he had misjudged.  Daxter hadn’t been planning on grinding them to completion at all.  As the ottsel struggled in his grip, smaller hands prying at Jak’s own and legs gaping wider over the green-blonde’s jutting arousal, he knew exactly what Daxter had been planning.  And the only responsible answer could be—

    

“Nuh-uh.  No way, Dax.  No way.”

    

“No fair!  You don’t even know what I’m gonna do!”  Dax pouted rebelliously and redoubled his squirming, the fur of his lower body brushing tantalizingly along Jak’s skin. 

    

“We can’t do this.  I’m too big.  I’d hurt you.”  Still, inexplicably, he felt a twinge of desperate arousal at the thought.  That slick little passage stretched around his length.  Daxter’s squeaky cries of delirious pleasure as he moved on Jak’s eager hardness.  How incredibly tight that tiny opening was bound to be…

    

How again had he gotten himself into this unique blend of heaven and hell?

    

Daxter was undaunted.  “No, no!  We can do this, Jak, we can!  It’ll be fine.  Won’t hurt.  Lemme go, I’ll do all the work, I swear.  Please!”

    

A firm refusal was on the very tip of his tongue… until Jak accidentally met his best friend’s eyes.  Those tearful, desperate eyes.  Those eyes that told him, without a doubt, that he would have been tied to the bed and raped already if Daxter simply had the capability to do it.  The ottsel was desperation in a little furry nutshell.

    

And Jak began to waver.  

 

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To be continued…

 

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(2^nd)AN:  Thanks to everyone who replied. I really appreciate it!  One more chapter to go, looks like.  Amazing how fast it got done when I finally kicked myself in the ass…

 

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