Disclaimer: The Jak and Daxter series and all associated materials are property of Naughty Dog and Sony Computer Entertainment America. The song For All We Know belonged to the great Nat King Cole.
For All We Know
By: Nanaki BH
I collapsed, finally letting go of my strength or whatever was left of it. I was so close to his door, so close. With my fists clenched tightly and my eyes closed in unimaginable pain, I pushed myself up so I could drag myself the rest of the way. My clothes smelled like gunpowder and it burned my nose with every deep and ragged breath I took. I raised one weak, gloved hand and at last forced out a couple pounds on Torn's door.
He wasn't answering and I was far too weak to yell for him to let me in. I think I must have lied there for quite some time, actually; just faithfully waiting for a miracle, hoping that he would open the door for me. I felt my fist relax and for the first time in my life I was aware that I was falling unconscious.
How long I was asleep I wasn't sure, but the pain seemed to leave me steadily. My mind kept circling around thoughts of him. I would see his face in my dreams and I would reach out, hoping to grab his hand or at least get in a tug at his shirt. He was there so plain as day and then, before I even had the chance to react, a Metal Head would gobble me up and I would fall endlessly until I wound up in the darkness of its belly. I woke up panting and screaming.
It took me a while to catch my bearings. I noticed the damp rag in my lap and realized that it must have fallen from my forehead. I touched my face and found it wet; slick in sweat or slick with water I wasn't sure. It was a reassuring sign none the less. I was for sure safe and sound back in Torn's hideout but he wasn't anywhere that I could see. He had left out maps on his desk and the light above it was still on. Without it, I thought, there would be no light at all anyway. His zoomer was gone. I thought it was broken or something for it to be inside his hideout all the time instead of parked outside. Perhaps that would give him away… He's a clever man.
I pushed myself up on my elbows and gritted my teeth to bear the pain in my middle. My armor was gone, I noticed. I pulled up my tight shirt a little to see that my wounds had been dressed. It was a relief, actually, to lift the tight fabric from my worrying wounds. I wondered for a moment when he would be back and if he would mind me taking my shirt off. No embarrassment between men, I supposed. I pulled it over my head and gasped halfway as it caught against a particularly painful cut on my upper arm.
It was a definite relief to be rid of the constricting material but an even more worrisome thought came to mind. Daxter – where could he have been? Without me Daxter was… well, he liked to amuse himself with the "Daxter, Jak, and Daxter Team" joke, but I knew he wasn't particularly strong on his own. When did I last see him, I wondered?
I touched the place on my shoulder where he usually sat and fear momentarily sank into my stomach. It felt so cold, and not just because I was missing a shoulder plate. The barbaric Metal Head from my dreams came to mind and taunted me, in my mind, waving around Daxter's dead body, as limp as a rag doll. I closed my eyes and instinctively covered them with my hands, begging the image to leave me.
Dax's fine, I assured myself. He knew how to get around. Maybe he was with Tess at the Hip Hog Saloon; safe, snuggled deep in her breasts. I got up, betraying whatever feeling of contentment the idea brought. For all I knew, Dax wasn't safe and I would make it my duty to find him. There was no way he was too far from the path we took. So I swung my legs over the side of the bunk, standing uneasily on my feet, still very mindful of my wounds.
I never liked being a hero. I wasn't quite fond of doing things I didn't willingly choose, really. This was Daxter we were talking about though; the other half of our duo. I scoured the hideout in search of my armor so that I could venture out for Daxter. It was surprising though, I thought, how difficult it was to find my armor in such a small place. It wasn't on his desk, the most obvious place to look, nor was it even under the bunks. I even went as far as to stand up on a lower bunk to look on the ones above. Either it wasn't there at all or I just hadn't looked hard enough. Armor certainly wouldn't help me if it remained missing.
I returned to the center of the room, hands on my hips, and released an aggravated sigh. One more deep breath and I resolved to look no further and work with what I had: my intelligence. One had to have the proper balance of brains and brawn to get things done effectively. My adventures thus far proved that all right.
So I began looking around again with different eyes. My armor was mysteriously gone and I had no idea why. I put that thought at the back of my mind for the time being and moved on to another thought. Torn's zoomer was gone. Torn was gone as well. Ten to one that meant he left on it which meant he wasn't just walking next door to borrow a cup of sugar. Good observation. He had obviously been in the hideout at one point to take care of me. I let something that felt like affection warm my heart for a moment before I bow-leggedly half-fell to the door to put on my boots.
I looked up, pondering that for a moment. Torn had left my boots by the door? Did he expect me to leave? Did he want me to? I shook my head clear and finished strapping them on. I ran back to his desk and grabbed one of his small guns before heading back to the door which was looking more and more like the port of Daxter's salvation. Without another second's hesitation, I made my way back painfully and just when I reached the door it opened on its own. But there was Torn, and in he walked, pulling in his zoomer behind him.
"Where were you?" I sputtered exasperatedly.
He shrugged casually and unclipped his gun-belt. "Why are you holding one of my guns?" he asked, pointing to the small pistol I held still. I looked down at it, a little bewildered.
"I was going to go find Daxter," I said.
Torn came forward and slipped the gun from my loose grasp, and set both the gun and his belt back on his desk. Without looking at me once, he circled around to the other side of his workspace and set to work looking over his maps. I watched him, incredulous, as he picked up a marker and began placing plots around an area on the map in front of him.
My eyes narrowed and I was tempted to shout at him for the way he was ignoring me. "I'm leaving!" I decided it was a better response than to lash out at him. I wasn't too sure how I should react. Had he really been the one taking care of me? I felt betrayed for some reason, like I expected him to show me any further affection or tenderness.
He looked up, only so slightly and quickly, almost like it didn't happen at all; had I blinked, I wouldn't have known otherwise. "I've got something for you to do," he said, still working diligently on his plans. The dim light shrouded his face in shadows like a mask of indifference.
I guffawed and crossed my arms defiantly over my chest. Clearly, he'd heard my concern and had simply chosen to ignore it. "Daxter is more important," I said, narrowing my eyes, though I knew he wouldn't see me do it.
"I dropped him off with Tess," he explained simply, replacing his red marker with a black one.
"Why didn't you tell me? That certainly would have saved me some grief." Whatever it was he wanted me to do for him seemed absolutely out of the question at that point.
He lifted his head and looked me square in the eyes. "I did."
The ringing in my ears settled to listen for once. I wondered if I'd really heard what I thought I did. A part of me didn't want to hear that; wanted to stay mad at Torn. I was being irrational. "Nothing wrong with being worried," I muttered, now pacing back and forth in front of his desk.
"See," he said, picking up a protractor, "I told you when you were sleeping. You had your eyes open for a while. I guess you weren't really awake, huh?" The pen he held dropped to the table with a slight clatter and I looked up, previously unaware that my eyes had even been averted.
I raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
"I can't finish this right now. Maybe I just don't want to – not until you sort some things out for me over in Haven Forest. I can't mark the area safe yet, now can I?" I still did feel a little tired, actually, and in the state I was in, I felt a little bitter.
"Sorry, Torn. I can't work without Orange Lightening." I threw a glare over my shoulder as I turned and found my way back to my bunk to begin unlacing my recent handiwork. I rather enjoyed the sour look on his face. I don't know what it was about him; why I felt hurt when he let me down and why I still felt bad when spiting him. Certainly, part of me enjoyed it, but he looked so damn disappointed. It was odd for Torn and even stranger for me to feel bad about it.
My fingers curled around the laces and just when I was about to tug, our eyes locked. His stare, now ten times more intense, made me feel suddenly nervous. He straightened up; imposing and almost frightening. "You think you're bad, Jak?" he yelled. His deep, commanding voice caused me to flinch slightly. He brought his hand down to his table with a loud clap as shocking as thunder and in one violent, fluid motion, threw his maps to the floor.
I was not the type to cower or submit, but the predatory glare being bore into my skull made me very uneasy. I swallowed hard and shifted on the bunk sheets under his vigilant gaze. "I'll get to it, okay?" I said, shrugging, trying my hardest to seem flippant. "For now, how about I just going to go check on Daxter and see if –"
"He's fine!" he shouted, stalking around his desk. I knew something bad was coming. Where was that reassuring Torn who had taken care of me? Where was the man who had bandaged my wounds? Before I even had the chance to yell back, he had slapped his palm hard and flat right across my cheek. Unfortunately, I have quick reflexes; stupid reflexes. I landed a punch right in his cheek, forcing his head to turn at an odd angle. It was like I had frozen him, paused his actions momentarily so I could catch my breath from the slight exertion.
My rough panting filled the silence, lengthening time and forcing it to become still and unsettling. He stared at the wall. I was unable to read his eyes in the dark of the room. Was he angry still? Would he give into the urge shared by everyone in the goddamn city and kill me? No, he was far too just of a person. At most, I would anticipate some torture.
He came within mere millimeters of my face and whispered; his voice sent cold shivers down my spine. "You must think pretty highly of yourself, kid."
That was the last I heard from him before he rushed forward, pressing our lips roughly together, and had me effectively pinned to the bunk. He was rather passionate; oddly so. I didn't expect such a vigorous kiss from someone who seemed as though he wanted to kill me just moments before. Torn was pushing his hands through my hair, rubbing the back of my neck with forceful fingers. His lips sensually massaged my own and it wasn't long before I felt his insistent tongue requesting entrance to my mouth.
I allowed him to do what he wanted for some reason. I've wanted this, haven't I, I thought, no longer trying to resist the urges that I had been restraining for quite a while. My mind swirled around thoughts I previously had of him while in the thick of battle; how I imagined what it would be like if he were to be there beside me, fighting valiantly for my sake.
I struggled to pull my legs out from under him and brought them up around his waist, already feeling him raking eager fingers up and down my sides. I whimpered when his nails caught a few of my wounds and reminded him harshly of them with a smack to the back of his head. Torn just grunted at it and kept on his way, dipping his head down to kiss and lick down my neck. To be honest, no one had ever kissed my neck before and I was damn well enjoying it. I tugged gently at his knotted hair, encouraging him. For a second I thought it did just the opposite; he backed up and stared down at me. I must have looked so prone like that, my arms still above my head, flushing from head to toe.
Torn looked like he was really thinking about something for a second; the way his eyes narrowed slightly and his nose scrunched. I recognized it as the same look he adopts while pondering a plan. I fidgeted slightly, curling my fingers in the bed sheets. It was probably only a moment; that time that our eyes were connected. It was just long enough for me to know I should give in and surrender myself completely. I wiggled around a little, letting him know that he could have me if he so desired.
He grinned and I mirrored it. Without another moment's hesitation, he began working on the buttons on my pants. There was nothing to fear, but my heart was racing. It thumped rapidly, uncontrollably, behind my ribs. In one swift movement my pants were gone and he was above me again, kissing me madly and rubbing my nipples. I wasn't quite sure what I'd done to make him so hot; to make him want me in that way. Did it really matter though? No, no thoughts mattered anymore.
I felt his hands on the sensitive skin on my lower stomach; a little cold but exciting. His rough, yet delicate fingers lingered there to tease me, never going any lower to give me what I really wanted. And his face was so close too. I could practically feel his breath on my chest.
"Torn, just do it," I gasped. My fists tightened in the sheets and I closed my eyes tightly when I felt him comply, his fingers wrapping firmly around my shaft. He gave it a couple tentative strokes; slow and agonizing at first, though they gradually became quicker in pace. He leaned a little lower and ran his tongue experimentally over the tip as though to taste me first. I yelped when I felt his tongue slip languidly over it and I banged my head on the headboard; albeit accidentally… and painfully.
When he heard the sudden sound, he looked up. "What'd you do?" he asked me. And it was odd, I thought, seeing the concern in his gaze.
"Hit my head," I muttered embarrassedly.
"Are you okay?" he asked, reaching up to rub a hand at the back of my head.
I nodded, probably blushing furiously. I wasn't a kid and he didn't have to keep acting like I couldn't take care of myself. Torn pushed himself up a little; balancing on his elbows and kissed me with closed eyes. A sigh escaped my lips when he pulled away. "I'm… okay," I said softly.
Sensitively, deftly, he kissed my reddening nipples and spread my legs apart. I honestly didn't expect him to take so much care with me. Maybe he was feeling a little bad after he made me hit my head. After all, it was his damn fault.
That thought made me smile and that grin only broadened when he began to undress. I watched in silent awe as his tight uniform slid over his toned muscles and was pulled off expertly without any struggle at all. I reasoned that he must practice that because no normal person would ever be able to get a shirt that tight off so quick. Ashelin's face snuck its way into my mind and I felt my face grow hot again. No way would he have ever been with her… I took mental note of it so I could ask him later; no need to spoil the moment.
Soon he was kneeling in front of me on the bed; naked and proudly tossing a small bottle of lubricant up and down in the air. I had to push away those bothersome thoughts of Ashelin when I noticed that the bottle was only half full. Then, without any second thoughts, he uncapped the lid and pushed me back against the bed with one of his feet. I was taken aback, if only for a second.
He spread my legs apart again and looked up at me, asking me for my consent with his eyes. What did the guy expect me to do; tell him no? What, after he'd already been man-handling me and all… But who would I be to tell him no? Although my heart pounded rapidly and my stomach filled with butterflies, I knew secretly that I was beyond excited. So I nodded and urged him to finish what he'd started. My mind posed another question: What would Daxter think of this? Screw Daxter. Torn now.
Torn hooked one arm under my left leg and lifted it slightly so he could put it up over his shoulder, leaning in between to kiss me. I could feel his rough, slick fingers coaxing me, swirling around my entrance. It enticed a gasp from my sore throat and I pressed my head back into a pillow, thankful I didn't hit the headboard again. A cool, slippery finger worked its way inside of me and I involuntarily tightened around it. He crooked that finger and rubbed in relaxing circles. He eventually added another finger, scissoring them, easing me wider.
"You like that?" Torn asked.
I felt him slip out his fingers and I groaned slightly, turning my head, trying to bury my face in the pillows. "Fuck, Torn! How the hell can you just sit there like that?"
Stupid, Jak, I thought. I actually knew how he could just sit there like that. He was more into it than I was, the sick bastard. The way he licked his lips in that "I know something you don't know" way… The way he stretched and raised his arms above his head, practically taunting me, intentionally trying to make me grope him…
"You're enjoying this aren't you?" I laughed, pulling his face down to mine by his hair.
Torn grinned widely. "Oh, I am, Jak."
That was about when I felt him push in. Indeed, it was quite unexpected. If memory serves me well, I yelped like a fucking dog, and threw my head back in sudden agony. He slapped my thigh and told me not to worry so much, that the pain would leave quickly. Typically, that's how things go. Don't worry; it's easier than it looks, my ass. That's how he puts everything. Nothing is ever easier than it looks.
And I hate it when I'm wrong. Torn was right. After some surprisingly gentle thrusts from him, I was already feeling more relaxed. Damn, I cursed myself for being so relaxed in such a dangerous man's embrace. The more I tried to resist, the more I wanted him. I couldn't keep myself from every little moan that passed my lips every time he thrust in just right. I wrapped my legs around his waist, somehow forcing him in even deeper. Ever so gently, he brushed the back of his palm against my cheek and I sighed, rubbing my face against his hand.
I cracked open an eye, feeling blinded by desire for a moment. I looked up at him, somehow not very surprised to find him in an equal kind of concentration. His eyes were closed, his head tilted a little backwards, and his mouth was slightly agape. I wanted so badly to kiss him; to pull him against me and rape that dirty mouth of his. He reached between us and grabbed my cock which had previously been straining neglected against my belly. He gave it a few relieving strokes and had me pleasurably moaning in no time. My wounds were almost completely forgotten. Was he trying to distract me?
My toes curled when he pushed in at the most perfect angle. I couldn't keep myself from rubbing my thighs against his sides, aching for him to do me harder and faster. I begged even, and for what ever reason, Torn actually gave me what I wanted for once. He quickened his pace, his fist, and even pinched a nipple and before I knew it, I was riding my orgasm, gasping his name. He maintained that concentrated expression and came as well inside of me.
For a second he stayed poised above me, just panting and enjoying what lasted of his own orgasm. He took in one long, deep breath and finally pulled out so he could lie beside me.
"You know… I think those plans can wait a little while longer…"
"These beds are too small for two people," I muttered tiredly.
"…So?"
Author's Notes: First Jak and Daxter fic! Second PWP of all time! Although I'm not new to the games, I'm fairly new to the fandom, so I hope nobody has any qualms with the characterization. Time permitting, I'll write something else for the series. Tell me what you think!