
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/185327.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Persona_4
  Relationship:
      Hanamura_Yosuke/Seta_Souji, Dojima_Ryotaro/Seta_Souji
  Character:
      Seta_Souji, Dojima_Ryotaro
  Additional Tags:
      Dubious_Consent, Blow_Jobs, Dirty_Talk, Community:_badbadbathhouse, Age
      Difference, Power_Imbalance, Sexual_Abuse, Uncle/Nephew_Incest
  Series:
      Part 1 of Dirty_Talk
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-04-17 Words: 4152
****** A Lot of Talk ******
by scatter
Summary
     Dojima orders Souji to his knees but he's not as in charge of the
     situation as he'd like.
Notes
     Written for a prompt at the Persona 4 Kink Meme: Anon has a simple
     request: dirty talk.
     Just lots and lots of dirty talk.
     Phone sex, whispers in bed, words meant to humiliate, words meant to
     arouse, give me anything. I'm fine with dubcon, noncon, and incest as
     well, if you decide to go for my guilty pleasure Dojima/Souji.
This time, Souji brought it on himself.
Dojima didn't have anything planned when he agreed to let Nanako stay at a
friend's house. His only aim was to be a good father for once. Sleepovers had
been a rare occurrence for Nanako before Souji arrived; she never asked for
them, too sure, maybe, that'd he'd say no and too concerned about making sure
the house was straight, and he never brought the subject up, too detached from
his daughter to think of it. So when she asked the question before dinner, he'd
seen it as an opportunity to do something right. Get her out of the house for a
while, let her have some fun. He'd even given her some pocket money because she
said her friend's mother was going to take them to see a movie. Souji hadn't
factored into the decision at all.
Not until Dojima looked over at him and spotted the sullen, mulish expression
on his face, like he thought he knew why Dojima was agreeing. Like the decision
was all about him.
Despite what Souji might have been led to believe by his friends, not
everything revolved around him, but if that's what he was thinking then Dojima
wasn't going to disappoint him. That quickly, his plans to go straight to bed
were replaced.
Dojima saw Nanako off at the door, gave her a kiss, and entrusted her into the
care of the neighbor. As soon as the door closed, Souji put his plate away and
excused himself, very carefully not looking at him. "I'm not feeling well."
Dojima caught his face as he walked by and turned it side-to-side. Souji
stiffened but stared back at him steadily, full of himself and full of
defiance.
Much too often, he forgot whose house he was in.
"You look fine to me," Dojima said. Souji might have been pale but he knew that
reaction well enough now to pin it on nerves and not sickness. Souji did get
sick sometimes – terrible eating habits that Dojima was half-convinced were on
purpose – but that brought sweating and shaking hands, fever and chills.
This strained expression and lack of color was his version of anticipation.
He released Souji, turned away, and pulled out a cigarette. "Go upstairs, I'll
be with you in a minute."
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Souji staring at him, hands clenched into
fists, mouth thin with anger, and seemingly on the verge of saying something.
What, Dojima would have liked to hear. Nothing new, he was sure; Souji only had
so many excuses, only so much eloquence around him – he might be able to charm
his friends until they were eating out of his hand, but he lost that around
Dojima.
He left without speaking, walking away stiff-backed and silent, and Dojima
shrugged. "Leave your door unlocked."
A cheap parting shot, but it got a reaction; Souji made a frustrated sound and
stomped up the first two steps before reining himself back in.
Dojima went to the backyard, smoked for a while. More than letting Souji stew –
letting him worry, letting him grow anxious, letting him grow aroused—yes,
aroused because Dojima knew his secrets, knew what he wanted not matter how
much he denied it… More than that, or at least about as much, Dojima wanted the
smell to cling to him because in a few minutes he'd be transferring it to
Souji. Dojima might not have been a scientific man but he knew smell was
closely associated with memory. A certain perfume made him think of his wife,
and he wanted Souji to remember him whenever someone lit up.
Dojima aimed to be a good father. He'd had few illusions about being a good
uncle when Souji arrived and none now.
Souji was kneeling by his couch when Dojima walked in, head down and fists on
his thighs. Occasionally, that was fine; Dojima was pleased with Souji knowing
what he wanted, with this subtle sign of eagerness. Tonight, it didn't have its
usual effect. Tonight, it might have been what Dojima wanted – Souji's mouth
had been what initially drew his attention to him, the way he sometimes licked
the corner the original inspiration for dreams the like Dojima hadn't had in
years – but it wasn't for the right reasons, wasn't eagerness or obedience or a
desire to please. It was an attempt to get this over with as fast as possible,
plain and simple, and Dojima wasn't going to put up with it. Only one person
set the pace and it wasn't Souji.
"Stand up," he said, and Souji stayed on the ground a few seconds too long –
too damn defiant, this boy – before rising. He kept his eyes down. "Look up,
don't you have any manners?"
Of course not, look at who he ran with – Hanamura, that bumbling Junes city
boy, and Tatsumi, the embodiment of a punk. Neither of them would say a polite
word unless they were forced to and they'd been a bad influence on Souji,
rubbed off on him.
(And Souji had probably rubbed off on them as well, his head thrown back,
panting raggedly, cock hard and covered with his own come.)
Souji's head jerked up. His lips were still twisted sullenly. How distasteful,
his expression said; this whole thing makes me sick.
Dojima's cock hardened.
"Relax your hands," he said, "or you'll give yourself a cramp. You'll be able
to fist them around something soon enough, but right now I want you to undo my
tie."
Souji had quick, clever hands, a good match for his mouth, and they worked on
Dojima's tie with practiced ease. Sometimes, Dojima made him do it up in the
morning, before Nanako was awake. He had to pull Souji out of bed and shake him
awake but the payoff was worth the trouble, seeing Souji drowsy in his
nightclothes, too tired to complain or fight or argue when Dojima touched him
or took a kiss.
He took one now and gave Souji half a second of warning by grabbing the back of
his head, fingers tight enough in his hair for pain. Souji gasped when their
mouths met, clicked his teeth shut before Dojima's tongue could get past them,
and tried to turn his head away. No success there, but his lips pressed
together and he stiffened.
Dojima knew this act; if Souji pretended he didn't want it then he could
moralize it to himself later, convince himself that Dojima had forced him and
that his hands were clean. Dojima wasn't interested in morals, not right now.
Now his attention was on Souji's fingers tightening around the knot of his tie.
He'd discovered a while ago that, once he figured out what to watch for, Souji
had plenty of ticks to give him away.
"Open your mouth," he growled.
"You smell like smoke," Souji said, the words barely escaping him. "You taste
like it too, I hate that."
"Open your mouth, Souji, or I'll do it for you." He could. A hand on the jaw to
force it apart, just the right threat, a knee working between Souji's legs
until he was panting so hard he couldn't resist – they were all good options
but so was force of will and the satisfaction that came with getting a result
with nothing more than an order was hard to match.
Dojima's house, Dojima's rules; he was the adult here, and Souji was supposed
to obey.
Another few seconds of defiance, a shudder running through his body as his jaw
clenched, a muscle twitching – and then Souji's mouth falling open, slack, and
such a disinterested, blank look on his face that Dojima's temper almost flared
up.
He managed to keep it in check, threw Souji's little game off by softening his
kiss, his earlier intensity, the intensity he wanted, momentarily pushed aside.
No tongue at first, just his mouth moving against Souji's lips (chapped now,
but they'd slick soon, he just had to be patient), and loosening his fingers in
Souji's hair, feeling Souji's stance change as confusion overtook him. Souji's
hands were still hard on his tie, not pulling – he'd never get that kind of
tell, not from Souji – but not dropping away either.
Souji looked at him warily when he pulled away. Dojima wasn't that tender
often, didn't like being that way, but sometimes he had to bend to get the
reaction he wanted and throwing Souji off-balance was always its own reward.
"S'not so bad, right?" He smiled. Souji didn't blink. "Now kiss me back this
time."
Souji did, careful not to seem too enthusiastic, and he resisted when Dojima
put his hand on his hip and tugged him forward, but Dojima was stronger and it
was either move or fall. Their hips met – they were more or less the same
height – and he pushed, let Souji feel the erection that strained against his
boxers, made him feel it. Souji's fingers twitched – either restrained desire
or restrained violence – and he exhaled heavily.
"Tongue," Dojima muttered, and forced his into Souji's mouth before he could
reply.
Feeling their tongues slide against each other made Dojima harder, made him
want to cut to the chase. He got sloppy; tame pecks and slow make outs weren't
his thing, and saliva escaped the seal of their mouths to make its way down
Souji's chin. He rolled their hips together, got a hint of a whimper or
something like it, did it again and moved his hand off Souji's hip, put it back
around and between his legs. Souji's nightclothes were thin, made to breathe,
and he could feel his sac, could reach further and fondle his dick.
If Souji hated this like he said, like he tried to act, it would have been
soft. He found it half-hard and groped clumsily.
"What's this?" He put enough space between their mouths to speak clearly.
"Ugh, don't—" Souji's hands left his tie, found and gripped his shirt instead.
His face was red and distressed.
"Souji, we go through this every time—"
"Wouldn't have to if you'd just stop—"
Dojima put an edge to his tone and shut Souji up. "—and frankly I'm starting to
get tired of this act. Things would be a hell of a lot easier on you if you
just admitted you wanted this. You'd sleep better at night." He wouldn't keep
Dojima up at night with his pacing and late phone calls.
"I don't," Souji said, glaring at the floor. "I don’t, I don't…"
"Then you're a slut, getting hard for someone you don't want?" He brought his
hand around front, cupped Souji through his pants, squeezed him hard and
twisted. Souji panted and sagged, rode Dojima's hand before he could still
himself. "You'd let anyone do this, is that it? Spread your legs and open your
mouth as long as you got off?"
"You don't—you never let me…" Frustration made Souji's voice a near whine.
Damn right Dojima never let him come. "Think about it: the fact that you want
to come at all says something about you, Souji. It means you want this." He
rubbed harder, feeling the outline of Souji's cock as it hardened in his grip.
"And by the feel of things now, you want my hand on you. Open your fly."
Souji gave a tiny shake of his head.
"Do it, let me see what you're always trying to hide. If you think you're
fooling me, you're wrong. I know you get hard when you're on your knees for me;
I've seen you trying to resist touching yourself. What do you think of when
you're finally alone and you take care of it?" He put his mouth next to Souji's
ear and kept making slow circles over Souji's crotch. He could feel the strain
in Souji's body as he fought not to respond, to not give in and hump his hand
like he desperately wanted to. "Having a mouth full of my cock, stretching your
lips and hitting the back of your throat? Or is it the shame you must feel
about how much to respond to it, licking your uncle's cock and touching his
sac? Do you come thinking of me holding your hair and fucking your mouth until
you can't breathe, standing over you and bending your head back?"
Souji made some meaningless noise.
"Or do you want me to take it further, want me to finally lay you out on your
futon, lube you up and fuck you raw? Let me tell you this: I've thought about
it, about how easy it'd be to push you down and turn you over and bury myself
in your ass. You probably jerk off at night thinking about it, fingers stuffed
up your hole – or do you rub yourself off on the sheets and bite a pillow to
keep yourself from making any noise?" If he kept moving his hand, Souji was
going to come. Already there was dampness building up on his slacks and seeping
through the thin cotton. "Maybe you're just waiting for me to do it."
"No." Souji's control slipped and he rocked forward, seeking more friction.
Dojima gave it to him with a rough grope before backing off. "No, not to—"
"Don't lie; I've seen your sheets." Seen how often Souji washed them too.
Teenagers had no control over themselves or their dreams, but at least Souji
had the decency to do his own laundry.
"Not to you," Souji said, and looked Dojima in the face. His cheeks were
flushed and damp with sweat, his eyes hazy. He blinked to focus and managed to
take some of the shakiness out of his voice. "I've never thought of you while I
did it, not once, and I never will."
Dojima stared at him before releasing him. "Take off my belt."
Souji did, hands moving efficiently. His eyes were clearing – too clear now,
voice too steady, all that damned defiance back in him. "When I think
about—when I think about him, I want it. I want it bad, Dojima-san, so bad that
I get harder than I ever do taking care of you." He tossed the belt the ground
so hard it made a harsh snap.
Dojima ground his teeth together and told himself not to let Souji get under
his skin. "What are you just standing there for? Put those hands to good use
and take out my cock."
Souji was smiling now, and going slower, prolonging things. Long, familiar
fingers touched him; Dojima had received a dozen handjobs from them, had made
Souji lick the come off of them just as many times, but now he could only think
of Souji stroking himself, stroking himself and thinking of some boy he knew.
"Sometimes, I do it. I lie in bed and I rub myself on the sheet until I can't
stand it and I imagine him behind me and fucking me and begging me—making me
say his name, and I do every time, I've never said Dojima-san, you're not in my
head then, you're the last thing I'm thinking of—"
Dojima brushed by him and sat on the couch. Souji cut himself off, swallowed
hard, and watched as he spread his legs wide, bracing his feet on the work
table. His was cock completely exposed, pants and boxers pushed down. His sac
hung heavy, his dick was long and stiff, erection unaffected by Souji's
attitude, and he knew whoever Souji was thinking about couldn't match this.
"Get on your knees, Souji. Instead of hearing your nonsense, I'm going to put
that mouth of yours to good use."
He expected a no and was poised to counter it, but Souji surprised him by
stepping over the table and sinking down without hesitation. In some ways,
Souji-on-his-knees wasn't too different from Souji-on-his-feet – he usually had
that same surly look on his face and the confidence was still there along with
the distain and anger. The difference was that on his knees, given enough time,
he could get Souji to crack, make those pretty eyes water and hear him gag on
his cock, get him to whimper and see raw emotion play over his face.
That's what usually happened. Now, Souji leaned forward, a smile on his lips,
and said, "I think about him when I'm doing this too. That's why I get hard
sometimes because when it's too much – when I hate you so much I want to bite –
I think of him and it's not so bad. Then, I want to grab myself and be filthy,
so filthy you wouldn't believe it, you wouldn't be able to keep yourself from
wanting me. It takes everything I have to not come in my pants."
Dojima grabbed his hair and smacked his dick against Souji's cheek. "Suck me
off."
Souji licked him. He usually didn't to this without being told; it was the head
in his mouth with his hand stroking what he couldn't reach, or his sac being
teased. What Souji did now – a long, slow, very wet pass of his tongue from sac
to head; closed eyes and a moan Dojima had never heard from him – wasn't for
him. It might have been a pleasure to receive those licks, to see Souji look up
at him with lidded eyes, one good enough that Dojima almost took himself in
hand and jerked off to come on his tongue, but Dojima knew the real intent
behind them.
Souji thought he was winning. To hell with that.
"I said suck. Open your mouth." His cock bumped impatiently against Souji's
lips.
Souji kissed it, tongue peeking out to tease the slit and taste precome. "Yes,
Uncle."
"That's right." The acknowledgement of their relationship made his hips move,
and the head of his cock disappeared into the warm wetness of Souji's mouth.
"You're going to take it all today, Souji. It's been too long since we've done
this. I've missed seeing you kneel like this."
Souji hummed, rolled his eyes, and moved a hand between his legs, not touching
himself but close enough to tease. Playing it up or not, Dojima crept closer to
orgasm. He'd seen Souji confident throughout this, seen him angry and resigned
and crying, but wanton was new, these tempting looks and sighs unfamiliar
territory.
Souji removed his mouth just enough to speak, the reverberations running across
sensitive skin. "Make me gag, Dojima-san. I want you to use my mouth like
you've thought about using my ass. I want to be so sore in the morning I can't
speak." He didn't quite sound convincing but Dojima didn't care. He drove
himself deeper in, earning a gasp, earning – of all things – a muffled laugh.
Souji's eyes mocked, but his mouth worked more than willingly, cheeks
hollowing, tongue caressing him, and one hand coming up to grab his sac.
Dojima did use his mouth, fucked it in long, deep strokes that kept Souji from
saying anything else. His cock slid out covered in spit, slid in smoothly, and
twice he took it out entirely to force it up against Souji's face, to make him
lick it again and smear slick streaks of precome and saliva on his face.
Souji took it all, and during the moments he was free to talk he begged for
more and told Dojima how good it was in a voice that would have landed half the
cops in Inaba in jail.
"Your mouth's better full," Dojima said, though Souji's words aroused him more
than anything in recent memory. "Keep talking and I'm going to paint your face
white."
"Yes, yes."
"You'd like that, huh, lick it up like you were starving, let me cover your
cheeks and your neck—"
"Everything," Souji said, and rolled his body distractingly. "Everywhere,
anywhere you wanted, Dojima-san. I can take it; I want you to give it to me."
Dojima could have come like this easy. Souji had always been good – except for
the first few times but that was to be expected – but this was above and beyond
for him, his enthusiasm unusual, the look on his face as his lips closed around
the shaft of Dojima's cock one he'd never worn before.
When Dojima figured it out, when it all clicked into place, he smiled and
slackened his pace.
"Whose cock have you been sucking?"
Souji touched his mouth and pulled away sticky fingers. His face was flushed,
his hair stuck up, and his lips were red and wet. "Yours, Uncle. Please let me
keep going, please don't tease me."
"That's not what I'm talking about." Dojima let him suck on the tip, forced him
to look up while he did it. "You've been… It's – let me guess – that Hanamura
boy, isn't it? You've been burying your face in his lap and sucking his cock."
Souji froze, and Dojima had his answer. "No," Souji said flatly.
"Don't lie to me, Souji. Gone from thinking about it to actually doing it, have
you?" The confidence and wantonness faded from Souji's face. It blanked, and he
ignored the cock bobbing an inch away from his mouth. "He must have been
impressed the first time you put all that experience to use. Did you do
something fancy and impress him or did you manage to hold back? He probably
didn't last long enough for you to enjoy it, but then again you must have been
happy just having your mouth full. Let's be honest with each other, Souji:
you're a cocksucker. That bulge in your pants doesn't lie. So get back to
work."
Souji's breathing came hard and fast. His eyes were narrowed, the hand between
his legs a fist like he wanted to take a swing.
Dojima took his cock in hand, mashed the tip to Souji's mouth, and kept it
there until Souji opened up.
And then he was back in charge.
"How'd it start?" He asked. Souji wasn't moving, but that was fine; he'd asked
to be used and Dojima was doing just that, forcing his cock pass those swollen
lips time and time again, watching as Souji swallowed and took more in with
every push. "Lunch on the roof, some meet up in the school restroom? You came
on to him, I'm sure – he's too damn jittery to approach you, and you're… Well,
you just wanted it. Said it yourself that you thought about it, wanted to have
him in your ass and order you to say his name." Dojima couldn't remember the
kid's name now. It didn't matter. "Have you gotten that far? That's what you
were thinking of now, wasn't it? You were pretending I was him or remembering
him and fooling yourself. Well, Souji, it's just me and you. That's my cock in
your mouth, it was there before his, and…" He paused to groan and force Souji
lower, to get every bit of him he was capable of holding in his mouth. Souji
sounded close to gagging. "…you're about to swallow my come, not his."
He came with sharp jerks, spent himself down Souji's throat, and watched in
satisfaction as Souji shut his eyes and took it with no defiant glare or
attitude. Seeing him enjoy it, really enjoy it, would have been nice, but
resignation worked well too as long as he understood where things stood.
He pulled out. "Lick me until I tell you to stop." He murmured as Souji obeyed
– "That's good" and "Right there" and other encouragements – let it go for a
bit before finally releasing Souji's hair and pushing him back. "That's
enough."
Souji didn't stand. He stared at Dojima and deliberately wiped his mouth on the
back of his sleeve. As though that meant something.
"Don't be like that," Dojima said, in a better mood than when they'd started.
"Why don't you do what you were talking about earlier, take care of yourself in
front of me? No? Guess all that talk was for nothing."
He stood over Souji and tucked himself away. Souji watched him through his
fringe, aroused but unwilling to do anything about it, and Dojima wondered when
he'd give in, what he'd think about when he did – Hanamura or this.
He saw himself to the door and was surprised when Souji stood and followed him,
staying in his room as Dojima entered the hallway. There was an odd, thoughtful
look growing on his face, a weird smile.
"Something you want to say?"
"That dirty stuff you were saying earlier? I was hard during it, you know."
"I noticed," Dojima said, but his interest was piqued. Maybe now Souji would
just admit—
"I was hard," Souji said, one hand on the door, "because I kept thinking how
Yosuke does the same thing, talk dirty, and about—well, how much better at it
he is than you."
With a final, quick smile, Souji closed and locked the door.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
