Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5373242.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      Gen
  Fandom:
      Persona_4
  Character:
      Narukami_Yu, Seta_Souji
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-12-07 Words: 6298
****** The Dark Abyss ******
by xXxdanknoscoperxXx
Summary
     Dojima misses his wife, and Souji happens to look very much like her.
     (This is a story I wrote several years ago for a friend.)
He slumped back against the door with a low, breathy sigh as soon as it had
completely shut behind him, struggling to keep dull, worn out eyes—so tired
that they almost looked bloodshot, or sickly, even—from disappearing behind
thin eyelids, never to be revealed again to those around him, and sending the
man off to the dark, lonely abyss of silence which he so dreaded.
The coat which he had put so much care into making neat and presentable now
slid and crinkled up behind him as he felt himself slowly falling, falling,
shoulders relaxing themselves with a relieved shrug, head lolling forward until
a stubbled chin came to rest on his collarbone. And eyelids fluttered and
drooped a bit as the organs beneath searched for something, anything, but he
hadn't the slightest clue as to what it was. Perhaps he might find out later.
All he had to do now was to open his eyes. Open his eyes. Open… His…
Two sets of eyelashes met one another as they enveloped the small organs
encased inside of his skull, as legs began to buckle underneath him. They would
give way soon; but he couldn't see any of that now. All he could even come
mildly close to being able to decipher were the images which came, flashes of
something that his brain had the honor of linking together in some kind of
half-coherent pattern, like a young child connecting dots.
All he could remember was the darkness; the cold, eerie, bone-chilling, blood-
curdling darkness that made the very hairs buried in his skin stand on edge;
the same cold black that he had always dreaded the sight of, and that wormed
its way deep into his mind until it was all that he could feel, all that he
could comprehend. It was terrifying.
It was so lonely, floating over pure black all on his very own, as though he
had been caught in limbo, never to escape or to see the light of day again. He
wanted so desperately to move, but it was extremely difficult, beyond anything
he could have ever imagined, as though his limbs had been crafted from the
heaviest, bulkiest lead and every time he attempted to swim forward in the
ceaseless, never-ending darkness; it made every muscle in his body tingle and
quiver from so much exertion.
No, no, please, no.
He did not want to be all alone; he did not want this anymore. If this were all
that was left for him, if he were destined to live like this for the rest of
his life (wasn't this life?), he might as well have simply taken his own
meaningless, pathetic, petty little life right then and there, if only he could
find a way.
Either he was dissolving into the frightening black abyss, or he was just
vanishing completely, never to be seen or heard from again. He could feel his
entire body jitter and quake and, surprisingly enough, grow warm, almost
uncomfortably so. A sharp, much too sharp ringing like that of a tiny bell
filled his ears suddenly, and he felt that he would soon grow deaf if he
continued to listen, but he knew not of how to eliminate it.
But even beyond that, he was able to register a voice. It sounded so very
familiar…
"—fall asleep down here again?"
He was very well aware that he knew to whom that concerned, calm voice
belonged, but he was in a bit of a daze, with his eyelids still drooping rather
wearily in front of his irises, threatening to close on him again in order to
once more meet with their lower brethren, launching him back into that pitiful
loneliness.
However, he struggled as much as he possibly ever could to keep them open. No
matter what, he did not want to return to that awful, lonely, desolate place.
Not for as long as he continued to live and breathe; but he knew by now that
there was no way he could escape it.
He felt somewhat relieved though, by the environment which currently lay around
him, especially pleased by the knowledge that someone else was sharing the room
with him, no matter who it was.
"Sorry I'm up so late, I was just trying to make something for tomorrow."
By now, he knew full well exactly who it was that spoke, as the hazy, drowsy
blanket of sleep had since slightly lifted, allowing his mind to function with
more clarity, and with more reason, although he still found it to be quite
sluggish and slow, unable to process more than the simplest ideas.
He finally was able to part chapped, dry lips apart in order to speak from a
parched throat, "Th… That's alright, Souji. Just… Go to bed soon."
"Shouldn't I be the one saying that to you?" the boy replied somewhat jokingly.
A small laugh wavering about in his throat, just barely leaving his lips as he
warily studied what seemed to be a potted plant in his hand, a grass, it looked
like.
The other might have, under normal circumstances, questioned why he was so
meticulously cutting the grass away from its roots, separating it from a dirt-
filled clay pot which was clearly labeled "Nanako", but he would have supposed
that his head was still a bit slower than how exactly it should have been.
He must have been sitting on the floor by himself for quite a while, wondering
why exactly his nephew was being so very silent, for he had completely
forgotten to respond to those last words altogether.
He simply sat upon the cold wooden floor, exactly where he had awoken, his
breath coming slow, so very slow, and heavy as he attempted to muster up the
strength to stand upright on his feet and make the long, arduous journey up the
stairs simply to be able to lie down and sleep comfortably.
"Ah, Dojima. Do you want any help?"
Huh? He must have blinked for much longer than he thought he had, because he
couldn't help but wonder how Souji suddenly managed to get so close to him. He
was still just struggling with all of his might to remain aware of all that
which lay around him, but he wasn't quite sure if his ability to keep his eyes
open was growing better or worse.
A firm hand on his forearm, strong fingers curled tightly around. At first they
simply held the limb in place, keeping it from slumping against the man's
figure, but then they lifted him up, a bit awkwardly at first, to stand
straight up on his feet as he fought the urge to slouch back over and onto the
kitchen table beside him, as best as he could.
When he stood, Dojima noted that he was actually able to see the boy, his
nephew, closely once more. He looked so… He couldn't even think of the right
word to describe him, but for the first time, he noticed the boy's fair face,
his grey eyes and accentuated cheek bones; such strong features that he could
see and acknowledge even in his current state, and he caught himself staring
just a little bit before he forced his eyes away, pretending as though they
were fumbling around the room for a clock.
"Th-Thanks. I think I can make it to bed on my own."
Souji steadied his uncle for a moment, making sure that he was stable enough to
walk on his own before finally releasing his grip on the other's arm, keeping
his eye on the other for just a little while longer, making sure that he
wouldn't fall over again.
Dojima slumped against the wall as he slowly made his way up the steps, trying
to brush the peculiar thoughts that had gone through his head only moments
before out of his mind.
It seemed as though the dreary hole caused by his loss was finally starting to
get to him again.
There was no more than a tiny little creak, barely audible at all as he walked
into the room. It frightened him slightly, he had to admit, but he felt an
overwhelming sense of relief when he could see that the other one hadn't even
flinched from the sound.
"Hello, Dojima. Welcome home," Souji's voice was as calm and collected as ever,
with a hint of exhaustion behind it, but Dojima didn't quite care to notice,
for he instead found himself to be completely enthralled with his pure, fair
face; hardly revealing any fatigue.
"So how was your day, Uncle?" For some reason, Souji's voice resounded in his
head more clearly and sharply than it ever had before. It seemed almost unreal,
his own nephew suddenly seemed so different, and yet it made Dojima feel so
odd, excited even, to be able to look at him through a whole new lens.
Was this all simply because of what had happened during the night before?
The man approached Souji's sleeping figure carefully, so carefully, for he
feared that if he even made so much as a single sound that it would wake the
other from his slumber and alert him to the man's unwelcome presence.
But Dojima could see—as he finally came close enough—that this boy was truly
beautiful. Those eyes, although closed, the lids hanging rather loosely over
the instruments, reminded him so very much of another person; a dear person who
had the same eyes. The lashes, he could see, were longer than they maybe should
have been, and Souji's brows gave him a sort of air of vulnerability that the
man almost couldn't stand to be near.
Oh, God, what was happening to him now? Dojima felt his heart's pace quicken a
bit as he listened in to the boy's slow, deep, rhythmic breaths.
The man reached down with a strong, thick hand, and, without very much thought
at all, he placed his fingers gently under Souji's chin.
Ah— He was actually doing this, wasn't he? He was doing all of it without quite
registering what was actually going on around him.
"I've had a pretty long day at work…" Dojima replied softly, biting his lip all
the while. In truth, he had stayed out for much longer than was necessary. It
seemed as though his mind was pretty preoccupied despite his efforts to clear
it of such peculiar notions as he had felt.
A silence dragged on for a little while, lingering between the two of them. The
man felt almost as though he may have misread it at first.
"Ah, it's been a long day for me too," added Souji, breaking the sort of eerie
awkward silence which stood like a cloud in their midst, with a nervous little
chuckle, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck somewhat uncomfortably.
Was he still timid around his own uncle? Or was Dojima staring a little bit too
much? Either way, the man felt the sudden need to turn his gaze away from the
other and make as though he were looking for something which could fill his
stomach.
That skin was so soft, so delicate; Dojima felt that if he simply were to press
into it a bit too harshly that it would rip or give way completely underneath
his fingertips with hardly any warning at all.
After examining Souji's calm, sweet, beautifully fair face as gently as softly
as he possibly could, remaining extremely cautious around his nephew's body
which was captured firmly in sleep's kind grasp, Dojima decided to move his
hand up, brushing fingers lightly against the skin which he passed, in order to
be able to run those digits through the boy's smooth hair.
It felt so soft, so nice; just like hers…
If he were any more aware of just what it was that he was doing, just by a tiny
bit, he would have tried to stop himself from proceeding any further. But he
couldn't possibly help himself, not anymore.
Ah, that hair was so beautiful, so amazing, like that of some gorgeous model,
only, somehow, it was even better. And by touching it and stroking through it
many, many times over, Dojima somehow felt more connected to the person it was
attached to, as though it were helping them to form a close bond, even when one
of them was clearly fast asleep.
"So, um, Dojima…" Souji cut through the silence once more, this time with his
own curious use of language.
Dojima fixed his gaze at the other, but only in time to be able to see him
lifting his body up from where he sat, buried comfortably in the couch with his
eyes glued onto the weather channel, a somewhat relieved expression now present
on his face. Dojima could only wonder why as he studied that awfully peculiar
look.
"I'm going to bed now." With that, a soft click of a button on the television
remote and the brightly lit screen died out and faded into pitch black.
Dojima caught himself staring again, and he quickly averted his eyes to a blank
spot on the wall, hoping that the other had never even noticed.
"Good night, Dojima." That voice had only the very slightest hint of a smile in
it, so faint that the man wondered if he had truly heard it, or if it were just
some illusion, a hallucination created from the back of his mind, brought
forward only by want.
He could hear the sound of feet climbing quickly up steps, which took to
creaking ever so slightly underneath the sudden weight that was placed onto
them, as the boy disappeared into the darkness which lay up the stairs.
And, for some reason, Dojima wanted to follow.
Suddenly, the man got a rather odd idea, which he normally would have dismissed
on the grounds that the very thought itself was absolutely disgusting and wrong
in every possible angle and aspect.
He didn't know what had come over him, but he supposed that he had simply lost
all control and was giving into desire now, without even an ounce of the
strength needed to stop himself.
He hadn't the slightest clue as to why, but Dojima had suddenly developed the
strange urge to do something absolutely awful. He didn't know why, but he
somehow felt that it might be right, that maybe if he did it, it would help to
ease his horrid nightmares, his pain, and his bitter cold loneliness.
While one hand continued to lovingly stroke the boy's feathery hair, the other
reached downward, downward. "Too far down, too far," the recesses of Dojima's
now-feeble mind began to protest.
But the rest of the man was lost now, and he had finally admitted defeat when
his hand, entirely of its own accord, fumbled around and created a quiet,
nearly inaudible zip, and he bit his trembling lip down as he reached inside of
the small V-shaped pocket which it had created, sliding thick fingers between
the zipper teeth. His body trembled a bit as he felt fingertips brush over
himself briefly, before pulling it out, averting his eyes from it as best as he
could, still trying to ignore what it was that he was about to do.
Almost as though it weren't even his own mind controlling his own actions,
nimble digits curled around his length. His breath stopped short after a long
pause had made his hand feel a bit numb, though it had begun to move even
despite that. After a few more seconds, Dojima finally released the puff of air
he had been holding back in his lungs, a bit alarmed when he realized that it
was much louder than it should have been.
However, a quiet sigh of relief slipped past his lips when he noticed that the
boy hadn't so much as flinched from the noise, let alone awaken. In all
honesty, Dojima hadn't the slightest idea what he planned to do if Souji were
to actually awaken; but the man was slowly allowing his inhibition to slip
away, and he supposed that the fact this boy could wake up and notice him at
any given moment added greatly to the excitement.
And to the stimulation as well, for Dojima found that he could feel himself
much better than he had in a long time. It was almost like the times he had
with… with—
For a brief moment, but just barely, the man could have sworn that he was able
to see her face again, so calm, so at peace, and his eyes lit up immediately,
with a spark that had been missing for so long, the feeling was very nearly
unfamiliar to him now, almost overwhelming.
"Please… If this is some kind of dream, then I don't want to wake up. I never,
ever want to open my eyes again," his mind called out, the thought echoing so
loudly that Dojima almost feared that the boy might have heard it.
But he couldn't help it. This was so amazing. It was far, far too amazing, and
much, much more welcoming than dreams, or rather nightmares, of the lonely
black pit. Dojima was so sick of that hole. He hated it with every last fiber
of his being, and wanted nothing more than for it to simply stop.
Without his realizing it, the man's hand slowly built up in speed with each
delicate, gentle stroke. It was almost as though it were not himself doing it
at all, but instead, he tried his very best to imitate her, to mimic her sweet,
loving motions with his own rough, callused hands; but—
But it wasn't nearly enough. He longed for the warmth of someone else's touch,
for the smooth, unblemished, porcelain skin on his own. He wanted that more
than anything in the world. It had been so, so very long, and he felt that he
absolutely needed it or it was quite possible he'd explode.
So slowly, very, very slowly (one may have even questioned whether or not he
were truly moving at all), Dojima moved himself closer, closer, dangerously
close, entangling the fingers of his other hand further into Souji's wonderful
hair, but dared not to pull on it or to use any more roughness than was
necessary.
And when he was just close enough, when he knew that he would be able to feel
that smooth skin right on him, it excited him beyond words.
He felt as though he were shaking just a bit too hard when he slid his engorged
member onto the smooth skin of the other's soft, fair cheek. But he honestly
did not pay that too much mind. It felt so good, better than anything he would
ever be able to do by himself, and Dojima almost couldn't stand it.
He studied the boy's expression carefully for any changes, anything to show
that Souji was at least somewhat aware of what was happening around him outside
of his little unconscious dream world. Dojima was very heavily elated when he
could see none. This boy was positively still asleep, and the man was just a
bit too thankful for that, it seemed, and so he allowed a tiny, warm smile to
grace his lips before he began.
At first, it was so slow, and so gentle, and so delicate, and so careful when
Dojima pushed his hips forward, allowing his fear of eliciting some kind of
response from his own nephew to slip away into the darkness, to hopefully never
be seen again, although it continued to linger weakly in the recesses of his
mind.
And then the man pulled himself back just before Souji's pale, beautiful cheek
was met with dark, thick pubic hair, for the man was still somewhat hesitant
about the whole thing. He still could not possibly shake that knowledge that
this was terrible, that it was so incredibly wrong, that it was an absolutely
awful thing for him to have even thought of doing in the very first place. And
yet…
And yet despite his mind's persistent protests, Dojima soon found that it was
absolutely impossible for him to stop. Now that his mind was trying to make his
body obey, it refused against even his most valiant efforts. He continued to
move his hips so rhythmically; forward and back, forward and back.
Until he gradually began to feel particularly sensitive, and he knew exactly
what was coming and it felt so very good that he couldn't possibly hold himself
back, especially not now. Before he could even catch himself, before he could
even think to hold back and before he could even consider the fact that he
needed to control himself, he felt such an overwhelming wave of pleasure and
wanted more, more, more, that he dug those long, thick fingers of his into the
boy's head and squeezed them around his skull much more tightly than he ever
should have dared.
But Dojima couldn't help himself. It was so unbelievably, incredibly, amazingly
good; good to be able to feel someone else's skin on his own, good to feel that
calm, peaceful, loving warmth, good to feel the—
Suddenly, however, all that Dojima was soon able to hear was rough, rapid
breathing, the smooth, calm rhythm of before completely vanished into the
night. But when the man was stunned into silence by the realization that this
voice was not his own, his hips became still, save for the bit of jittering
which they still continued to do, the man's heavy breathing more erratic than
it had been before, as though something were about to hit him.
He didn't know what to do when he finally managed to open his eyes and look
down at Souji's figure in front of him, only to feel his heart jump, flutter
and flop for a moment, and then stop when he could see grey eyes, wide with
fear, confusion and terror staring right back up at him.
Suddenly, after a few, slow beats, almost as though his chest were throbbing,
and after watching Souji's eyes begin to dart around the room like those of a
captured animal searching desperately for some means of escape, the small organ
started back up again, racing so wildly that the man feared it might have very
well exploded in his chest.
Souji breathed in deep when his fearful eyes managed to settle back onto
Dojima's, staring into them pleadingly, begging him for something, but for
what, the man wasn't quite sure. The boy then opened his mouth wide, as wide as
it would possibly go before the inhalation ceased, and it took Dojima no more
than a fraction of a second to realize what it was that the boy was about to
do.
In a brief moment of pure panic, the man quickly clamped a hand, much too
powerful for his own good, over the boy's mouth, curling his fingers so tightly
over it that they buried themselves deep into his cheeks, refusing to give him
even the slightest opportunity to cry out for someone.
No, no, no, no, no. Dojima wouldn't allow himself to be discovered doing such a
thing. He wouldn't let this boy give him away when he had already gotten so
far. He would never let that happen.
But as soon as he had covered Souji's pretty little mouth with his rough,
strong hand, Dojima was met with glistening, watery eyes, filled with pure
horror, just before he felt a tear slide onto his fingers, and then another,
and another after that until they began to come down non-stop.
And then came the muffled sobs and dampened scream, vibrating harshly against
the man's sensitive palm, and Dojima couldn't help it. Fuck, he couldn't help
it.
When the boy began to writhe and kick about, grabbing at the now-soaked hand
which restricted him so with both of his own, panic continued to shroud
Dojima's mind, more rapidly than it ever had before. Without thinking (how
could he have?), the man pulled away the fingers that he had trapped in the
boy's hair and drew them back, curling those digits which once stroked so
gently through Souji's hair into a tight, coiled fist.
The boy stared at the hand as it moved back further and further, and Dojima
could feel his breath coming out in huge, messy puffs from his nose, spraying
mucus on his fingers, but he didn't care. The man didn't even think about
Souji's fear, only his own, even when he found that the loud sobs had turned
into desperate, frightened whimpers.
Then Dojima brought his arm back forward, and watched as the boy suddenly
tensed sharply underneath him, shutting his eyes as tightly as it seemed that
he could.
Suddenly, the man's fist connected with the boy's soft face, and the yelp which
Souji let out immediately afterward, although still muffled, was very audible,
and Dojima's heart skipped a beat when he thought that someone might have been
able to hear.
However, instead of releasing Souji, he squeezed the boy's cheeks even harder
between his thumb and fingers, causing him to whimper slightly once again,
before Dojima stared into his eyes once more.
"Don't you dare make another sound."
The man was sure that it was not even himself speaking anymore.
Normally, he would have immediately released Souji. Oh, he would never have
wanted to hurt his own nephew. He loved the boy so very dearly.
But now, looking into those frightened eyes, all color drained from Souji's
face, the man could feel anything but remorse for his actions. For some reason,
the only emotions he could feel at that moment were anger and frustration. How
dare Souji wake up in the middle of it all and ruin it for him? He was so
close, so close to finishing his experience. It was all he wanted, all he
needed. If the boy had simply kept his eyes and mouth shut up tight, Dojima
wouldn't have been forced to do this to him.
Souji blinked several times at the other, and he was clearly trying hard to
avert his gaze, but his eyes simply darted about. The man watched him until the
boy began to grow a bit exhausted and settled back on his uncle's face with
that pleading, sad, pitiful stare.
Suddenly, however, Dojima became frustrated at the fact that he was screwed,
frustrated at the knowledge that the nightmares would simply keep coming,
frustrated at the fact that, for him, escaping reality, even if only for a
little while by latching onto his nephew's face was only some strange fantasy
that he could never truly possess.
Then, out of pure anger, the fingers which had dug their way into Souji's soft,
supple skin began to press and push harder, and harder, with such an immense
amount of force that the man knew Souji would not have been able to bear it for
any longer.
Hands, weak with fright and exhaustion, reached back up toward those monstrous
fingers, pulling on them in a desperate attempt to get them off of him, or at
least to loosen their dangerously powerful hold, as the boy slowly let out
another weak, helpless sob.
But Dojima wouldn't have it. He wouldn't let this boy make another sound; even
it was only for help which he clearly needed.
"I told you to stay quiet!" he accidentally said much, much more loudly than he
should have, but he failed to notice, for anger and frustration already held
him completely in its grasp, refusing to let go, and he hadn't even the
slightest idea of what was occurring around him.
Dojima shifted closer to Souji, grasping his hair tightly once again as the boy
clearly continued to try and hold in his whimpers and sobs and cries, but to no
avail, for the man could still feel them vibrating against his palm, and he
could still feel the sloppy, wet tears come down onto his hand and the snot
oozing from his nose while the boy's attempts to sniffle and snort it back up
were loud and clear, the noises positively disgusting.
But Souji shirked and squirmed against Dojima as he could feel the man's length
prodding once more against his face, and it looked as though the boy's eyes
were very close to popping out of his skull, but Dojima didn't care.
"Come on," he demanded, voice unnaturally menacing, as though he planned to
strike Souji again and again, as many times as he needed to until the boy
finally complied.
It was clear that the boy would have attempted to scream once more when he man
finally removed his hand from Souji's mouth, wiping the slime and moisture off
against the cloth of his pants, as it gave him a perfect opportunity to cry out
and save himself, if only—
If only his uncle's throbbing girth weren't right near his mouth, poking at his
lips, wetting them with some glossy liquid. Obviously, someone like Souji
wouldn't want that anywhere near his mouth, and the man simply watched the boy
as he clenched his eyes and mouth shut.
But Dojima soon grew impatient with the boy's stubbornness, and he lifted and
yanked the boy's head by his hair, until it proved too much. But the boy simply
bit down hard on his lip, causing a tiny stream of blood to trickle down his
chin. Souji was simply not opening his mouth.
As his willingness to tolerate what the boy was doing began to wear thin,
Dojima decided that it would be best to force Souji to open his pretty little
mouth. And so he used the thumb and index finger of his free hand in order to
pinch the boy's nose shut, and tightly at that.
The man was met with Souji's immediate panic, as the boy's eyes shot open at
that exact moment. But before those pale, long-fingered hands could make it to
his face, Dojima shot him another glare.
"Hands down or I'll fucking kill you."
Souji gulped. Hard. And Dojima didn't even have to say anything more than that
to get him to comply.
But not before long had passed, the boy began to struggle, and it was clear he
was suffering some distress, obviously running out of air, and this situation
wasn't making it any of that any easier on him.
Dojima moved the hand which tightly gripped Souji's hair to the back of the
boy's head, holding it tightly there instead.
Suddenly, unable to bear it for any longer, the boy gasped out for air which he
so desperately needed, for he seemed to be unable to withstand any more of this
torture. But when he opened his mouth wide to finally be able to take a deep
breath—
The man clenched the hand which held the back of the boy's head into a tight
fist, pulling harshly on his hair, pushing the boy toward himself as he
immediately thrust himself deep inside of the boy's warm, moist opening.
He managed to earn more tears, as well as some disgusting, unappealing sort of
gagging sounds, as though the organ were blocking off Souji's airway, choking
him and causing him to make noises which imitated those that someone who were
about to vomit would emit.
Dojima released his tight hold around the boy's nose, instead joining the hand
which held it to his other one, now using it to squeeze the back of Souji's
head tightly, unwilling to relax his hold for anything.
"Bite down and you fucking die."
Souji made some kind of sound which resembled that of an injured dog when it
reached the very back of his throat, cutting it off completely, and the boy's
eyes were now shut up tightly, as though he attempted to ward off the pain and
discomfort which he was now being forced to face.
The man hesitated for a few long, grueling moments, lingering deep inside of
that warm, moist orifice. It felt so wonderfully sublime in there, much better
than anything he'd done in a very, very long time.
Suddenly, however, the boy snorted, hard and loud, spraying mucus into the
thick, dark curls of pubic hair, just before he began to gag uncontrollably,
and he reached his hands up, placing them on the man's legs, attempting to push
him away.
"What did I say about those hands?" Dojima barked, pulling roughly on the boy's
hair as he finally allowed himself to slip out of Souji's amazing little mouth.
He earned a small whimper as the boy finally brought his hands back down, and
then a slight sigh of relief when he began to pull his length away, but not
completely, as the man soon thrust himself back inside after only several
seconds, eliciting more coughing, more gagging, and, of course, plenty more
tears.
When Dojima let out a short, low groan, pulling his hips back once again, he
looked down at Souji's pitiful, frightened little face, eyes wide and pleading,
begging for his uncle to please stop hurting him like this, to please end this
torment and he wouldn't tell anyone, he promised.
But the man paid Souji's discomfort no mind, and instead somehow found the
boy's (near) complete submission to him to be incredibly arousing, and, as he
stared into his sad eyes, he was able to feel himself twitch inside of that
hot, wet hole.
Unable to bear the stillness for any longer than a few short moments at a time,
he continued his torture over, and over, and over, and over again. And instead
of being disgusted and repulsed by the atrocious noises his nephew was making,
they only made him more and more excited to the point where he could hardly
hold back and contain himself.
And yet, all he could think as he forced his way into Souji's mouth was, "This
is all your fault. All your fault. All of it," which he, with hardly even a
moment's worth of thought, grunted and moaned aloud, all the while pulling at
the boy's hair so harshly that he threatened to tear the strands right out of
his scalp.
"Because of you—" Dojima panted heavily, breath coming in great puffs as he
grew nearer and nearer to his absolute peak.
"Because of you, it had t—" he suddenly stopped that thought midsentence,
breathing more roughly than he felt he ever had, all because—
"Ah, I'm going to—"
As soon as those words slipped past his lips, Dojima could feel the boy's hands
rush into action. Souji placed a firm hand on the man's thigh, and a stiff
forearm over both of his legs, struggling with as much might as it seemed that
he could muster in order to get Dojima off of him, clearly not too keen on
having something so disgusting and vile anywhere near him, let alone in his
mouth.
Souji began to cry even more intensely, his eyes much too red as tears cascaded
down pale cheeks, staining them with streaks of salty sweetness, which Dojim
was far more than happy to see.
Those sobs and screams for help which Souji was obviously trying so hard to let
out, only to be interrupted by another powerful thrust of the man's hips were
so wonderful. All of it felt so amazing, so good that Dojima could no longer
stand it, and before long, he—
He went as deep as he could possibly go, and then remained entirely still, save
for the ecstatic jittering and shaking which his body, particularly his lower
half, was doing, grunting out sharply for a few moments while he reached the
climax of his pleasure.
Souji's eyes shot open then as he stared directly at the mess of coarse hair
which sat in front of him, before he shut them again and let out some awful
noises as though he were about to release the contents of his stomach, gagging
and coughing and choking hard because of the organ which lay in his throat.
The man waited until he began to come down from the rush, breathing heavily,
before he finally relaxed his much-too-tight grip on the boy's feathery hair
and pulled himself away from Souji completely.
When he bothered to look back down toward his nephew, through some foggy film
which now covered his eyes, he was still able to see a pair of confused,
scared, distraught ones staring back at him, streams trailing from them all the
way down to the chin, and a mixture of mucus, saliva, and coughed-up semen
covering the rest of his face.
And, for the first time that day, Dojima didn't see the face of the one he once
loved, or of some horrible, spiteful piece of shit, or even of some wonderful,
foreign beauty which he had failed to notice earlier.
He just saw the face of a frightened, confused little boy.
Dojima left the room, staggering to his own as he tried his very hardest to
keep the wall of tears from breaking through, as he could hear the horrible,
awful sound of his nephew's terribly loud retching, and that of his sorrow and
regret and confusion.
It made Dojima feel as though his heart had sunk down completely, and that the
weight would never ever be lifted.
Souji had always been such a sweet, loving boy. He never deserved any of this.
"What have I done?"
The man rested his frame against the door once he had closed it behind himself,
but he couldn't block out those frightening, bone-chilling sounds.
As he sank down to the floor, Dojima fell further and further into that dark,
cold, lonely abyss.
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