Keep Talking

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Amaronith: Glad you liked the chapter!  Thanks for always poking me until I work on it.

Gloomie: Sorry for leaving you hanging. Unintentional, I promise. Things are looking up for the gang, though!  And, as always, I encourage you to write if you feel the need, either fluff or angst. Contributions to the fandom are always welcomed.

Grimreaperchibi: Your writing more than deserves “plugs.” Any opinion other than mine will be disregarded in this instance. And I do so much agree on the hotness of these particular lovebirds in showers. Yowza.

Kuromei: Sig loves his little lurker dog poopsie baby, yes he does.  And Jak loves his little Daxter, so he’s probably not pleased about loaning him out as a maid…

Franko: Thanks! I’m sure Razer’s got something up his sleeve for our favorite redhead.

CrabRabgoonMonster: I have to work hard to keep insanity like the outtakes from making it into the actual fic, haha.  Hopefully Razer’s generosity with love-life tips will never run dry!  We’ll have to see.

Tainted_Emerald: I am trying reeeeeaaaally hard not to let ottsel bleed to non-ottsel storylines. The image of Orange Lightning teasing Jak that way just wouldn’t leave my mind, though, so in it went.  You have a great summer, too, and I’ll get out the scotch tape and start constructing a main conflict!

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Characters: Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.  I do have a set of those cute little mini mates toys that Sony just came out with, though…

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“Fer the last time, ya big lug, I do not need a chaperone!”

Jak’s ears drooped at the very firm, final-sounding tone in his redhead’s voice.  “But, Dax—”

“Don’t you ‘but Dax’ me, bud.  I said I don’t need ya comin’ with me an’ I mean it.  I got this.”  Daxter crossed his arms over his chest, giving Jak a look of mixed aggravation and amusement.  “I’m the one who went an’ pestered a favor off Razer, so I’m the one who sucks it up an’ goes ta clean his pad.  Not you.”

“Well, you asked the favor because of me,” Jak argued.  “So it’s partially my fault you’re on cleaning duty.  Which I still think is bogus, by the way.  At least let me come and help you.”

“How many times do I gotta say no before ya take a hint?  I’ll be fine, Jakkie-boy.  A little cleanin’ won’t kill me.  You act like ya don’t trust me, or somethin’.”

Jak frowned, eyes darkening.  “It’s not you I don’t trust.”  So what if he didn’t want a sleazy, sexy bastard like Razer oozing around his little partner?  Jak was not a man who trusted easily, and said party had done nothing so far to earn that trust.  “I’d feel better if I just—”

“And I’d feel better if the hero who saved the world’s ass on repeated occasions didn’t stoop ta sweepin’ floors fer somebody he doesn’t even like.  End, of, story.”  Daxter grabbed his jacket off the bedpost with a flourish.  A quick adjustment of the sleeves and he was at the door, looking back over his shoulder at Jak.  “Don’t wait up, babe.  And don’t follow me!”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Jak huffed in annoyance as the bedroom door swung closed with a firm click.  He wasn’t happy, but he could respect Daxter’s wishes.  So what if it was barely nightfall and now he had nothing to occupy himself with for the rest of the evening?  So what if he still didn’t trust Razer as far as he could throw the Javelin X?  He wasn’t going to follow his friend against direct orders like a lonely crocadog.  World-saving heroes had some standards.

Two minutes later the world-saving hero was hustling down the stairs, ears laid back as his brain shuffled through excuses he could dish up when Daxter tried to kill him for this.  He passed the kitchen where Torn and Sig where playing cards with an accompaniment of beer and cheesy snacks.  He hurried through the living area where Ashelin was putting a fresh coat of red paint on her fingernails and Keira was reading an article on looking chic in overalls aloud from an issue of Roses and Wrenches. 

“Going out, Jak?” Ashelin asked absently as she blew on her nails.

“Uh, yeah.  It’s pretty boring without Dax here.”



“Have fun.”  Keira glanced up from her magazine sternly.  “But no brawls.”

Jak smiled slightly in agreement.  “No brawls.”  Not unless he found Razer standing less than two yards from Daxter.  Then all bets were off.

It was a short trip out to the garage and the miniature warp gate Daxter had created for easy access to Razer’s base.  Only, the warp gate seemed to have vanished.  The larger gate, the one back to Sandover, shimmered with the block that Daxter had temporarily sealed it with, but the second gate was gone as if it had never existed.  Jak huffed in frustration as he faced off with the section of bare concrete wall where the smaller gate had been.  Trust Daxter to somehow know that the racer would follow no matter what he said.  Clever, little Precursor, quite clever.

Jak debated momentarily, eyeing the various vehicle shapes looming in the dim light, before walking quickly to the side door.  The alley behind their garage greeted him, and then the sidewalk.  Without a backward glance he took off at a steady jog toward the upscale part of town.  There were other ways to get from point A to point B.

- // - // - // - // -

“Dishes.  Dusting.  Vacuuming.  Glass surfaces.”  Razer ticked them off on gloved fingertips one by one, inches from Daxter’s nose.  “Stay out of my food, stay out of my liquor, and be out of my house no later than twelve.”

Daxter rolled his eyes theatrically.  “Sure thing, Fairy God-loser.  I’d hate ta turn into a pumpkin.”

“I’m serious, you little weasel.  I have an important… engagement tonight.  There is a good possibility that I will be returning to my home accompanied.  And if that occurs the last thing I want is supervision.  Understand?”

“Oh, I understand, alright.  You got a hot date!”  The redhead grinned slyly as Razer fluffed like a flustered pigeon, tripping over excuses and denials.  “Who’s the fresh meat?  They hot?”

“That is none of your—”

“It’s Rayn, ain’t it?”

“How did you—?!”

“I have my subtle ways.”  It wouldn’t hurt to leave out the part about the girls chattering about the impending date all day long.  “Don’t you worry yer pretty little perfumed head.  You just go out, have a nice time, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, an’ I’ll have the place all spiffed up fer you two lovebirds by the time ya get home.” 

Razer sputtered and stalled indignantly as he was pushed toward the door by insistent hands on the back of his dress coat, but gave it up with a glance at the clock.  “Very well.  Mind your business, then, and be out of here by midnight!  No shenanigans.”

“Shenanigans?  Moi?  Surely you jest.”  Daxter smiled angelically.

With one last glance over his shoulder and a very disbelieving snort, Razer departed.  In another few moments the engine of his most plush car was heard disappearing into the night.  The house was left in silence, save the ticking clock and the drip of water from the kitchen sink faucet that had somehow managed to start leaking again in the short time that had elapsed since Daxter had fixed it.

The redhead sighed and took off his jacket, dropping it over one of the hand carved chairs at the table.  “Guess it’s time ta roll up the ol’ sleeves and get busy.”

The kitchen seemed as good a place to begin as any.  Daxter looked about, taking note of how many dishes were stacked by the sink and what kind of crumbed-up state the floor under the table was in.  He wouldn’t put it past Razer to have let messes accumulate on purpose specifically in honor of his cleaning visit. 

“Yeah, I figured, he’s used up every dish an’ spoon in this place.  Man, this is gonna take forever.  You’d think a fancy-ass guy like him would actually bother ta install a dishwasher in a high class pad like this, but nooo.” 

It was no use griping to an empty house, though, so Daxter satisfied himself with plugging the sink and dropping the closest stack of dishes into it a little too hard.  Water, soap, sponge.  A billowy mound of suds covered the stack and he settled in for the long haul, sleeves pushed up to his elbows.  He looked out the window over the sink as he scrubbed, idly wondering why someone would install a window that overlooked an alley and the brick side of the building opposite.  Probably so lazy people like Razer could drop their kitchen trash straight out the window without having to walk outside.

Slowly the stacks of dishes on the counter began to dwindle in the face of concentrated scrubbing and rinsing.  Daxter was satisfied with the new stacks of shiny plates and cups in the drying rack.  The silverware sparkled from its caddy.  At this rate he might get done early enough to break into Razer’s wine collection.  The happy thought was interrupted when a sudden clatter from outside made his ears perk.  He leaned forward over the sink to peer down through the dark as best he could.  “Wha…?”

The head popping into view caught him completely off guard.  The redhead screamed, arching away from the window as the plate he had been washing plummeted to its end on the tile.  To his credit, the stubborn face on the other side of the glass looked just as surprised.  With a growl of disbelief Daxter recovered himself and reached out to firmly drop the blinds over the window.  “Go home, Jak!”

What sounded like the beginnings of an argument from without were curtailed when the ominous clatter came again.  There was a shout, shortly followed by a massive crash—what could only be a decently heavy body falling hard into one or more metal trashcans.  Snarls and curses drifted up to the window, but Daxter didn’t pay them much mind. He was too busy leaning against the sink and laughing hysterically.

A few minutes later a small, hesitant knock on the front door made Dax straighten up, wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes, and go let his boyfriend inside.

Jak looked suitably ashamed of himself as the door swung open.  He stepped in out of the dark with his ears low, like a crocadog about to be spanked with a paper.  “Hi.”

“Hi, yerself,” Dax snickered.  He leaned casually against the wall in the foyer, smirking the smirk he allowed himself when he was completely and utterly within his rights to give Jak a hard time.  “So.  I gotta ask.  What happened out there, graceful warrior-hero?  He who performs death-defying acrobatic feats through firefights?  The guy who can spin-kick three consecutive metal heads out’a the air an’ land on his toes?”

“I was standing on a trashcan and the lid wasn’t on right, okay?”  Jak was blushing from ear tips to down under the collar of his racing jacket. 

Dax shook his head, unable to stop grinning.  “I should make you turn that fine ass of yers right around and go home.  You know that, right?  Because ya also know that stalkin’ yer partner an’ peepin’ in windows at night isn’t somethin’ normal people do, right?”

“I know, I know!”

“But ya know what?”  At Jak’s quizzical pout, Daxter reached out to insolently pinch his cheek.  “I’m not gonna.  If yer willin’ ta come all the way over here just ta do somethin’ totally dumb like that, you deserve ta stay an’ provide slave labor.”

Jak perked at once.  “Really?”

“Yeah.  Now that I think about it I kinda like the idea of a domestic hero obeyin’ my every direction.  Besides, I can’t very well turn ya back out there in the dark on the wrong side’a town, now, can I?  You’d get raped or somethin’.”

“Hey!”

Ignoring Jak’s affronted look, he turned back into the house with a quickly hidden grin.  “Come on, I know where there’s a broom with yer name on it.”  Oh, this was going to be fun.

- // - // - // - // -

Five minutes into his newly appointed role as assistant maid, Jak realized that the evening was not going to be easy. 

For starters, Daxter made it very clear who was in charge.  It wasn’t Jak.  The hero was unceremoniously divested of his racing jacket and ordered into an honest to gods apron that had, for some reason, been hanging in Razer’s kitchen.  He didn’t put up a fight, wary of annoying his redhead any more than he already had that night.  At least it was a plain apron, simple cloth and no frills. 

“Okay, what now?” Jak asked awkwardly.  He wasn’t exactly trained for challenges in this particular area.  The Peacemaker felt a million times more familiar in his hands than the broom that Daxter had plopped into them.

“Now yer gonna use that broom an’ sweep up the plate you killed.  When yer done sweepin’ the kitchen you can dust the living room.  I’m gonna finish the dishes.”

“Right.”  It seemed simple enough.  Even if he was cleaning Razer’s house, he had been the one who insisted on helping.  And he was with Daxter, his ultimate goal in the first place.  Jak made a couple sweeps with the broom and glanced over his shoulder at the sink.  Daxter scrubbed adeptly, one hip cocked jauntily and foot tapping on the tile.  The green-blonde smiled, eyes softening.  He watched the flick of Daxter’s ears, the subtle sway of his hair over the nape of his neck as he nodded to an imaginary beat. 

“I don’t hear any sweeping,” the redhead said casually.

Jak blinked.  “Huh?”

The wet, soapy spatula came out of nowhere, cracking Jak firmly across his right ass cheek.  He let out an undignified yelp at the stinging smack, fumbling not to drop his broom.  “Oww!”

Dax cackled, waving the spatula threateningly.  “Straighten up, soldier!  You here ta clean, or ogle?”

It was probably a bad thing that he stalled over the answer.  Face and ears red, Jak sidled out of the kitchen.  Killer dust bunnies seemed less intimidating than Daxter with his game on.

- - - - -

Little more than an hour of steady cleaning later, they were finished.  Eager to please, Jak had done his best, and everything on Razer’s list had been completed without a hitch.  The broken plate was disposed of quietly in hopes that the posh racer wouldn’t notice its absence until the improvised cleaning crew was long gone.  The brooms and dust rags were replaced in their closet, the blinds were straightened, and everything was in order.  It had been a productive night.

“Can I take this off now?” Jak asked, fingering the apron ties behind his back.

Daxter looked him up and down.  “Yeah.  Take it off an’ sit on the couch.”

“Why?”



“Don’t worry about the why, gorgeous.  Just do it.”

Jak did.  Opulent red leather squeaked under his racing pants as he dropped down onto the cushions and slid over a bit to give Daxter space to do the same.  The low table in front of the couch gleamed with the polishing it had been given, uncomfortably close to his knees.  “Being around all this fancy stuff makes me feel like I’m gonna break something.  Shouldn’t we just go home if we’re done?”

“No hurry, Jakkie-boy.  We got time ta relax a little.  Just sit still an’ everything will be a-okay.”  A companionable arm snuck around the green-blonde’s shoulders and gave a light squeeze.

Jak’s eyes narrowed.  “Okay, what are you up to?”

The redhead looked up at him, suddenly grinning deviously.  His hand tightened on Jak’s shoulder, fingers digging in to the black fabric of the racer’s t-shirt.  In a moment he was straddled across Jak’s lap, hands pinning broad shoulders to the back of the sofa, face nuzzling into a ticklish neck.  “Doling out the punishment you so rightfully deserve fer disobeyin’ direct Precursor orders.  Don’t struggle, now…”

“Daxter, stop!” Jak demanded, but he was already trying not to laugh.  “Not here, alright?  Wait until we get—”  A hot tongue trailed down the side of his neck and then he was trying not to squirm.  “We are not doing this in Razer’s—”  Teeth nipped at the outline of his collarbone and he sucked in a gasp, hands on lean hips to try and pry his tormenter off.  “Gods, Dax, quit that—!”  Lips latched onto the skin over his pulse point and sucked hard.  Jak moaned, head falling back.

Dax purred.  “S’what I thought.  Be still an’ take yer punishment like a man.”

Jak bit his lip and closed his eyes.  What the hell.  He did deserve to be pushed around a little for insulting his partner like that, following him like he needed a babysitter.  And it wasn’t late at all—barely midnight.  Most likely Razer wouldn’t return for another few hours.  “Alright.  But only necking.”

“Hey, who’s callin’ the shots here?” Daxter demanded on a growl, grabbing Jak’s ear and using it to pull his head to the side.  “You just sit there an’ be quiet.”

Jak huffed in surprise, his breath catching.  Along with the harder nip at his neck, the grip on his ear sent a shiver up his spine that would have been difficult to miss even if Daxter hadn’t been sitting in his lap.

The redhead smiled slyly.  “Hmm.  Is this a silent hint that I should change tactics?”

“Dax, no—!”  Too late.  Jak trembled as that warm mouth descended on the soft place just below his ear, leaving a deceptively gentle kiss.  He sat, frozen like a kangarat in the headlights, as Daxter kissed up the lobe of his right ear and a quick hand came up to take hold of his left. 

“Nnnn…”  The green-blonde went limp, even as his hips automatically rose at the electric touches and Daxter ground down against him in return.  Jak flushed, blood rushing across his cheeks and up the ears being so cruelly molested.  It was something of an embarrassment that he, such a formidable fighter, would have such sensitive ears.  Not that Daxter exploiting his little weakness was anything new.  Even as an ottsel he had no qualms about grabbing an ear from his shoulder perch and directing Jak where to go with it, like reins.  The degrading thought gave Jak the willpower to sit up straighter and try to stand.

“Oh no ya don’t!”  Daxter shifted with him and shoved with one long leg braced against the sofa.

Jak went down sideways, laughing despite himself as he hit the cushions with the tenacious redhead still clinging to him.  Now it was a game.  He rolled onto his stomach and tried to crawl away, but Daxter was faster.  In a moment he was straddling the racer’s lower back, grip on his ears reestablished.

“Cheater,” Jak growled, dropping down to lie flat on his belly.  There wasn’t much else he could do, if he didn’t want to flip the redhead off and send him flying into the coffee table. 

Daxter knew it and purred smugly—right before he gently bit the upper edge of a captive ear.

“Ah!”  Warmth flooded Jak’s insides, turning his limbs to jelly.  He buried his face in his arms with a quiet groan and surrendered as Daxter settled fully on top of him, breath puffing hot in the ear he was worrying.  His tongue ghosted up the inside fold in a way that made Jak shudder and whine, pressing his awakening arousal into the cushions beneath them.

“That’s it, big guy.  Y’know it feels good.  Just take it easy an’ let me make ya squeal…”

Jak bit his own hand to prevent that very thing as Daxter reached the end of the long taper of flesh and began to nibble the tip.  He nibbled… then sucked lightly… and before Jak could react the top half of his ear was drawn into a warm, wet vice.  A guttural groan escaped the racer and his hips bucked automatically.  Nimble fingers began to stroke and knead the ear not being sucked, and his breathing began to come faster.

Daxter pulled back slowly, sure to lave every inch of sensitive skin as it left his lips.  “No fight, Jak?  None at all?”

The only reply he could muster was a muffled whine and a lifting of his hips against the hard ridge of cock pressing so invitingly against him.

“Fuck, Jak,” Daxter swore breathlessly, “you have any idea how hot you are?”  He thrust against the backs of Jak’s thighs with another stifled curse.  “Okay, y’know what—raise up.”

One beat, two to decide whether or not to go along, and the racer slowly lifted himself up on his arms.  Quick mechanics’ hands slipped under his hips to grip his belt.  In seconds it was loose and the button of his pants suffered the same fate.  This was rapidly becoming much more than a simple makeout session—and Jak couldn’t bring himself to stop it.  Dax sprawled on top of him, cooing hot words into his burning ears, was so, so good.  And with the redhead in charge he didn’t have to think about anything but how good it was.  He stayed still and compliant as his pants were tugged down his thighs.

“Stay… stay… good boy,” Daxter murmured absently, as if Jak might change his mind suddenly.  He reached over a wide shoulder to grab a throw pillow from where it lay against the arm of the sofa and tucked it under Jak.  “There ya go.  Ease down, now.”

That one was easy to obey.  Jak shifted his hips forward, letting out a relieved huff at the friction of soft suede against the hot skin of his bared erection.  Then back, dragging the redhead’s own arousal against the place he’d been half hoping it would end up for a week now.  They both gasped, and Daxter stretched a bit to tongue Jak’s neck again as he began to grind in earnest. 

Fingernails dug into leather as the green-blonde’s hands clenched without his control.  He had ridden flutfluts.  He had ridden leaper lizards.  But he had never been ridden himself before, and the feeling of it, even without Daxter properly inside, was absolutely delicious.  He groaned through his teeth and ground down into the softness of the pillow, the world narrowed to the two of them and the sweet havoc Daxter was wrecking on his nervous system.  Gonna come… gonna come… gonna—!

The sound of a key in the front door and the lock clicking over seemed to reverberate like a rifle shot.  Jak and Daxter froze.

Several dozen thoughts flew through Jak’s mind in the space of seconds as the door swung open in the foyer around the corner.  Where is gun where is jacket how many seconds to pull up pants how far to the back door no possible way to not be caught in this situation oh dear GODS Daxter keep moving just like THAT—

The door closed with a decisive thud.  Footsteps in the hall.  Quiet voices and muffled… giggles?  Jak remembered to breathe again.  He gave an urgent push at the redhead on top of him, but before they could so much as shift Razer stepped into the dimly lit living room with Rayn in his arms.  The two on the sofa stared.

“But a moment, my lovely,” Razer purred to the blue-haired beauty simpering seductively up at him with her arms around his neck.  “My bed is quite—”  Then his eyes flickered just enough to span the room.  His head jerked up, those green eyes widened to their limit, and he screamed, literally screamed as Rayn tumbled from his arms with a squeal of shock to land on her pert bottom at his feet.  “MY SOFA!!”

All thoughts of playing opossum in hopes that they would somehow go unnoticed fled Jak’s mind.  Lithe and agile as his ottsel form, Daxter was off of him in less time than it took to draw breath.  Jak was on his feet in a moment more, pants already hiked up to within a reasonable distance of where they were supposed to be.  By the time Rayn’s infuriated shout of “What the hell—?!” echoed through the house Jak and Daxter were sprinting through the kitchen toward the door that connected to the older racer’s garage.  Jak grabbed his jacket off the chair back on the fly, none too keen to wait around for whatever reaction beyond hysterics Razer was likely to have.

Daxter laughed breathlessly as they ran, tugging Jak along by his wrist as the door banged behind them and the glow of a homemade warp gate illuminating the garage leapt into view.  The green-blonde had time to notice something swinging from Daxter’s free hand before they were through the portal and tripping out into their own garage.

“The look on ol’ Smokey’s face!” Daxter howled, clutching Jak’s sleeve for support.  “I thought his jaw was gonna drop clean off his mug!”

Jak shook his head dazedly, brain gone fuzzy with adrenaline, lingering arousal, and warp gate vertigo.  “We are so dead.”

“Psssh.  He’ll get over it.  Fer sure when I bring his cushion back all nice an’ clean.”  Daxter held up the strange object in his hands.

“You stole his throw pillow too?” Jak asked disbelievingly.

“Don’t look at me like that.  It needs cleaned, and I ain’t the one who stained it.”

Jak’s raging blush returned with a vengeance.  “W-well, you’re the one who put it under me!”

Dax laughed.  “Okay, okay!  Simmer down, hot stuff.”  He moved closer, smiling and seductive.  “Now.  As much as I love a beautiful blonde with brains, I suggest ya shut yers off fer a while.  You’ll be a lot happier that way.”

Jak’s erection, persistent in the face of adversity, agreed.  And that, coupled with the certainty that they were already fucked—figuratively if not literally—no matter what happened was how Jak Mar found himself, not more than a minute later, on his back across the seats of the Havoc in the dark quiet of the garage, stifling moan after moan as his friend ground and squirmed on top of him.

“Careful, Jakkie-babe,” the redhead panted through a shit-eating grin.  “Stay as quiet as ya want, yer eyes are still screamin’ ‘fuck me!’”

“And what… are you gonna… do about it?” Jak gritted with an answering buck that splayed his legs as wide open around Daxter’s hips as the cramped space would allow.

The rhythm Daxter had been building faltered.  He stared down at Jak in disbelief through the dim light.  “Holy shit, ya serious?”

The racer swallowed surreptitiously.  Over the mad fluttering of his insides, he lifted his chin in challenge.  “Sure I am.  Why not?”

“Of course ya say that when we got no lube!” Daxter groaned playfully.  He leaned forward, draping across Jak as he claimed a giddy, demanding kiss.  “Don’t gotta ask twice, pal.  ‘Course I’ll fuck ya.  I’ll show ya such a good time you won’t remember yer name by the time I’m through.  Just as soon as we got lube, I will.”

That wasn’t the answer Jak wanted to hear, but he could appreciate the sense of it.  Unless they wanted to sneak through the base and then risk waking everyone sleeping upstairs with their enthusiasm, lube was out of the equation.  He had learned enough by now to know that an attempt at this kind of sex without the slippery stuff would crash and burn, and he rather wanted his first time on the receiving end to equal up to his giving experiences.  So he settled back as calmly as he could given the circumstances, head cushioned against a hard door panel by the stolen pillow (stained side down).

Daxter reached down with spit-slick fingers and took hold of Jak unerringly through the open fabric of pants that had long since come down again.  Jak shivered and arched at the touch combined with the redhead steadily rocking against him.  He reached back to brace his hands on the paneling on either side of his head, getting a feel for the position he was in.  He felt as he had all those weeks ago when Dax had first taken it upon himself to tackle the former hero in their living room in Haven—dizzy, a bit bewildered, a bit nervous, but largely unresisting.  If there was anyone Jak would willingly submit to, it was the one on top of him now.

The hand around him tightened suddenly, strokes speeding to match the increasingly frantic movements of the hips against him.  Jak’s leg kicked out reflexively at the double stimulation of attention to his aching cock and the mimicry of being taken, hitting the door behind Daxter with enough force to send a loud bang echoing through the garage.  He didn’t stand a chance when Dax laid into him like this.

“Nnn—aah!”  The racer had to bite his own gloved hand to muffle the loud shout when he came.  His leg still managed to kick out again, his knee colliding with the steering column in a way that surely would have launched the Havoc’s supply of blaster missiles if the vehicle had been operational. 

“Jeez, big guy, easy!” Daxter whimpered.  He stroked Jak gently through his release and into the afterglow, his own thrusting hard and ever more erratic until he too shuddered atop his friend and went rigid on a wavering moan.

Falling asleep on his back inside one of the vehicles they would be working on in the morning was most likely a bad idea, but Jak was sorely tempted.  He hummed contentedly as they settled against each other to catch their breath, the redhead nuzzling him pettishly and brushing damp hair off his face.

“I think I dented the door…”

“Pssh, yeah, no kiddin’.”  Dax lifted his head to grin crookedly at the green-blonde.  “Damn, babe, you were gettin’ into it.  How will you ever cope when we get around ta the real deal?”

Jak quirked a brow in mock disbelief.  “How will you ever last long enough to get me off during the real deal?”

“Why, you—!” 

Jak snickered evilly and ducked the smack aimed at his head as best he could.  “Okay, okay, low blow.”  He sat up rather stiffly, hair in disarray.  “Think we can get upstairs without waking everybody up?”

“So long as you don’t try kickin’ anything else apart this evenin’ I think we’ll be good.  Can’t imagine how Torn didn’t come chargin’ in here with a steak knife, with all the racket ya made.”

They managed a cursory mop up with a clean shop cloth, then attained the upstairs bathroom with all the quiet they could muster.  Subdued but still noticeable panting and moaning from the room Torn and Ashelin shared provided perfect cover for a more thorough rinse with wet washcloths before the two crept to their room and locked themselves in for the evening.

Daxter was giggling like an idiot. 

“Come on, Dax.  Let’s be mature.”  Jak rolled his eyes and smiled as he stripped down for bed.

“Whaaat?  It’s funny!”  The redhead burrowed under the covers, head and ears popping up by his pillow.  “Still ain’t fair, though.  They get ta screw around an’ make all the noise they want, an’ nobody says a word.  Why can’t we?”

Jak paused in the act of kicking his dirty, stained clothing under the bed.  He would need to wash those himself; he’d die of embarrassment if Keira got a hold of their sweat and come-streaked pants.  “Uh… because we’re heroes, and we have dignity?”

Dax snorted in disbelief.

The racer sighed.  “Because I’m easily embarrassed and I know they’ll taunt me mercilessly, at the very least.”

“That’s what I thought.”  Daxter stretched and curled close as Jak turned out the light and climbed into bed.  “Don’t worry about it, pal.  They’re all our friends.  It’ll work out.  They won’t say nothin’ too bad to ya.”

No.  But the tabloids might.  Jak suppressed a growl at the thought of the Kras City news rags catching wind of their love life.  Trackside Romance: Upcoming Racer Jak Discovered Bedding Male Mechanic!  Not that Jak gave much of a damn about what a city full of people he didn’t know thought of him.  They weren’t his friends and their opinion of him didn’t matter—he had figured that out in Haven, when ninety percent of the populace knew him as Eco Freak.  But he might just be forced to go Dark and tear some sleazy reporters’ faces off if they dared to start smearing his redhead. 

“Hey up there.  I can hear ya thinkin’ an’ I know it’s nothin’ positive.  So shut off the neurons an’ close those pretty blue eyes, huh?”  Daxter snuggled closer, tucking his head under Jak’s chin.  “Be a good boy an’ I just might screw ya through the mattress tomorrow night.”

Jak grumbled, but a pleasant heat bloomed in his ears and cheeks at the promise.  He pulled Daxter close and did indeed shut his eyes, burying his face in a mass of red hair that smelled of lemon cleaner.  It had, after all, been a very good day.

- // - // - // - // -

 To be continued.

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(2^nd)AN: You know what this story needs? Some drama.  Yeah, that’s it.  Drama…

Andyway. Outtakes!  Though this chapter hardly seems to need more comedy.

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Jak: Can I take off this stupid apron now, Dax?

Dax: No.  Go lay over the arm of the couch.  I want that ass in the air, buster!  *brandishes spatula*

Jak: o_o

Dax: The funny part is, you think I’m kidding.

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Razer: My SOFA!  You perverse little brats, I ought to—!!

Rayn: Now, now, Razer.  Let’s put this in perspective.

Razer: Wha?

Rayn: They’re cute boys, after all. Why just have hot sex when you can have a foursome?

Razer: ….

Daxter: Hey, yeah, that’s not a bad idea!  How about it, Smokey?

Razer: … I rather dislike my life right now.

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Sig:  (the next morning) Yo, cherries, either of you know why there’s some kind of cushion in my ride?

Jak: O.O

Dax:  Gee, I dunno, Sig.  I wonder where it came from!

Sig: I know, right?  Eww, looks like there’s some kind of stain on it.  But… why’s the stain shaped like a smiley face?

Dax: Wow, I’m not sure.  Why do YOU think the stain’s shaped like a smiley face, Jak?

Jak: … *withers up and dies of embarrassment*

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