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areyougameTitle: Stains
Artist: myeerah
Rating: PG13
Warnings: glossed het, mentions of past torture
Wordcount: <700
Prompt: Jak & Daxter, Jak/Keira: Healing or comfort sex – Free me before I slip away
Summary: Comforting the exile
A/N: Apologies for lateness.
It was amazing, the way the stain clung. Keira sighed and tossed the overalls and their offending oil spots aside. She was just beginning to turn back to her desultory spring cleaning when her communicator blipped.
“Daddy!” she exclaimed. “What’s going on?”
”It’s not good,” Samos gravely replied.
Keira closed her eyes, vestigial hopes dashed.
”Veger’s stirred up the rest of the council against Jak,” Samos continued. ”There’s only so much that Ashelin and I can do.” There was a pause, then the sound of a throat clearing. “Veger’s pushing for execution. With the way things are now, dropping the charges is out of the question. The best we can hope for is exile.”
A slight scuffle made Keira open her eyes. “Daddy, I’ll talk to you later.” She shut the communicator down and gaped at her visitor.
Jak looked like hell. His face was closed down, but she’d gotten used to reading him around the edges and recognized the set of his jaw, the slight crease between his eyes, and the tension in his neck. He was furious and holding it in with everything he had. His eyes were darker than usual, and his skin a trifle too pale for her comfort.
“Writing me off already, huh?” His tone was scathing.
“Jak, no!” Keira made a furtive motion in his direction, but drew back almost instantly. “It’s stupid of them to blame you. It was the Baron and Krew that let the Metalheads into the city.”
“Yeah. I know.” His folded arms were every bit as tight as they had been.
Keira swallowed hard, then took a deliberate step in his direction. “I don’t know what to do, Jak. Daddy’s doing what he can, but we can’t fight another war with Haven and the Metalheads. We just can’t.”
“I left Daxter with Tess,” Jak said. “I just came to say goodbye while I still can.”
“Goodb— What?! No!” Startled into action, Keira grabbed at his shoulders, ignoring his flinch as she dragged him around to look him in the face. “I just know Daddy will figure something out. Don’t give up on us, please.”
His bark of laughter wilted something inside her. “Too late, Keira. Over two years too late.” He made to pull away, but she tightened her grip.
“Don’t go, Jak.” Closing her eyes to block out the view of his own, and ignoring the hair-raising static she could feel rising from his skin, she leaned in and up, and pressed her lips to his.
The angle was off, making it awkward, but the stiffness in his body gradually lessened and he turned his head to meet her more fully. She risked opening her eyes for a moment and saw his, restored to their usual blue, wide in confusion. She smiled into his mouth and pressed more firmly against him.
Slow steps led them back through her workroom into the small break room, and he didn’t resist when she drew him down onto her emergency cot. She had to tamp down a flare of panic when he loomed over her, eyes gone dark with lust rather than rage, but he was as gentle as anticipation would allow.
Afterward, crowded together on her tiny bed, she rested her head on his shoulder and drew one leg up across his thighs, tracing small patterns on his chest with her fingertips as he did the same on her back.
“This is still goodbye,” he said, voice soft and hoarse.
“I know,” she replied, her own voice thick with regret, tears dripping onto his skin and following the tracks of scars before running off and dampening the sheets.
Hours later, after he’d gone—left before the Guard could be sent to collect him—she lay curled up on her cot, face buried in her pillow, inhaling the traces of his scent.
She remembered the scent of the boy she’d grown up with, and how his scent had been overlaid with sea and sand and sun. He had lost that, along with everything else he’d lost, leaving instead an acrid residue of dark eco. It was amazing, the way that stain clung.
Artist: myeerah
Rating: PG13
Warnings: glossed het, mentions of past torture
Wordcount: <700
Prompt: Jak & Daxter, Jak/Keira: Healing or comfort sex – Free me before I slip away
Summary: Comforting the exile
A/N: Apologies for lateness.
It was amazing, the way the stain clung. Keira sighed and tossed the overalls and their offending oil spots aside. She was just beginning to turn back to her desultory spring cleaning when her communicator blipped.
“Daddy!” she exclaimed. “What’s going on?”
”It’s not good,” Samos gravely replied.
Keira closed her eyes, vestigial hopes dashed.
”Veger’s stirred up the rest of the council against Jak,” Samos continued. ”There’s only so much that Ashelin and I can do.” There was a pause, then the sound of a throat clearing. “Veger’s pushing for execution. With the way things are now, dropping the charges is out of the question. The best we can hope for is exile.”
A slight scuffle made Keira open her eyes. “Daddy, I’ll talk to you later.” She shut the communicator down and gaped at her visitor.
Jak looked like hell. His face was closed down, but she’d gotten used to reading him around the edges and recognized the set of his jaw, the slight crease between his eyes, and the tension in his neck. He was furious and holding it in with everything he had. His eyes were darker than usual, and his skin a trifle too pale for her comfort.
“Writing me off already, huh?” His tone was scathing.
“Jak, no!” Keira made a furtive motion in his direction, but drew back almost instantly. “It’s stupid of them to blame you. It was the Baron and Krew that let the Metalheads into the city.”
“Yeah. I know.” His folded arms were every bit as tight as they had been.
Keira swallowed hard, then took a deliberate step in his direction. “I don’t know what to do, Jak. Daddy’s doing what he can, but we can’t fight another war with Haven and the Metalheads. We just can’t.”
“I left Daxter with Tess,” Jak said. “I just came to say goodbye while I still can.”
“Goodb— What?! No!” Startled into action, Keira grabbed at his shoulders, ignoring his flinch as she dragged him around to look him in the face. “I just know Daddy will figure something out. Don’t give up on us, please.”
His bark of laughter wilted something inside her. “Too late, Keira. Over two years too late.” He made to pull away, but she tightened her grip.
“Don’t go, Jak.” Closing her eyes to block out the view of his own, and ignoring the hair-raising static she could feel rising from his skin, she leaned in and up, and pressed her lips to his.
The angle was off, making it awkward, but the stiffness in his body gradually lessened and he turned his head to meet her more fully. She risked opening her eyes for a moment and saw his, restored to their usual blue, wide in confusion. She smiled into his mouth and pressed more firmly against him.
Slow steps led them back through her workroom into the small break room, and he didn’t resist when she drew him down onto her emergency cot. She had to tamp down a flare of panic when he loomed over her, eyes gone dark with lust rather than rage, but he was as gentle as anticipation would allow.
Afterward, crowded together on her tiny bed, she rested her head on his shoulder and drew one leg up across his thighs, tracing small patterns on his chest with her fingertips as he did the same on her back.
“This is still goodbye,” he said, voice soft and hoarse.
“I know,” she replied, her own voice thick with regret, tears dripping onto his skin and following the tracks of scars before running off and dampening the sheets.
Hours later, after he’d gone—left before the Guard could be sent to collect him—she lay curled up on her cot, face buried in her pillow, inhaling the traces of his scent.
She remembered the scent of the boy she’d grown up with, and how his scent had been overlaid with sea and sand and sun. He had lost that, along with everything else he’d lost, leaving instead an acrid residue of dark eco. It was amazing, the way that stain clung.