Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/192496.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Persona_4
  Relationship:
      Dojima_Ryotaro/Seta_Souji
  Character:
      Seta_Souji, Dojima_Ryotaro
  Additional Tags:
      Blow_Jobs, Sexual_Abuse, Power_Imbalance, Dubious_Consent, Community:
      badbadbathhouse, Emotional_Manipulation, Age_Difference, Uncle/Nephew
      Incest
  Series:
      Part 2 of A_Friendly_Gesture
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-04-30 Words: 2315
****** What a Convenient Arrangement ******
by scatter
Summary
     Dojima takes advantage of Souji's need to be praised.
Notes
     Prequel/tie-in full of bad touching.
"Damn inconvenience, that's what you are."
Coaxed by a mixture of frustration, anger, and booze, the words were out of
Dojima's mouth before he could think about them. The murder case had him on
edge. It was going nowhere – no real suspects, no real motives, no conceivable
reason for someone to string women up on telephone lines. Souji was underfoot
again, had been since he'd arrived, always in the kitchen trying to cook
something or sticking his nose in the case where it didn’t belong despite
repeated warnings about the danger. As Dojima reached for another beer and
bumped into him, unused to having another person in the house, the last of his
fraying patience snapped and he turned his frustration onto Souji.
Souji jerked like he'd been slapped and stepped away from him. He didn't say
anything, of course; he was perfectly respectful, had been since the way he
arrived, and somehow managed to be all the more aggravating because of it. If
he'd been rude or difficult, Dojima could have an easy outlet for his
irritation, but he was denied even that. Now, Dojima didn't care. He was going
to use Souji, show him that this quiet polite act wasn't a shield.
"Make yourself useful, do something!" Too loud; Nanako might wake up. He
lowered his voice and, inspired, shot out another comment, "Why's Nanako still
taking care of the house? Aren't you a grown man, can't you clean after
yourself instead of letting a little girl take care of everything? Did you come
here expecting to freeload?"
Each word brought a sense of relief, took a weight off of his shoulders. He'd
been holding the thoughts in since the day Souji arrived. He hadn't wanted this
kid in his house, didn't like the idea of some stranger invading his space when
he could barely take care of Nanako. What had his sister been thinking, flying
halfway across the world and leaving him with Dojima?
Souji flinched and lowered his head, but he stood there and listened until
Dojima ran himself dry. He didn't say a word the whole time, didn't stick up
for himself once, just trembled and took it and, when Dojima waved him away in
disgust, retreated up the stairs. Dojima let him go, sunk onto the couch and
tried in vain to relax and enjoy the relief that came with getting all of that
off his chest. He'd feel guilty later, apologize in the morning, and say it'd
just been the booze talking after a long day at work. Souji would understand.
Except an early call into work kept him from seeing Souji before he went to
school, a late night had him back at the house when they were both in bed, and
after that there was always something to put off the conversation – Nanako in
the room, Souji out with his friends, Dojima not wanting to ruin a good
atmosphere – and gradually it slipped to the back of his mind. When he did
remember, bringing it back up just seemed awkward. Why mention it when Souji
never did, make things uncomfortable when he didn't have to?
And, dammit, it'd worked, hadn't it? Maybe Souji'd needed a stern word, a
verbal smack. Maybe all that traveling he did made it impossible for his
parents to properly discipline him. Whatever the reason, he took over the bulk
of the housework so that Nanako could go and play with her friends, started
taking care of dinner, and no longer got in Dojima's way. If he seemed
unusually unsure of himself at times, if he snuck worried glances at Dojima,
well, he'd get over it. Wasn't like Dojima had threatened him or said another
harsh word since then.
Things continued like this for a few weeks, the two of them stuck in an uneasy
truce, until another hard day of work found Dojima staying up late and turning
to alcohol for a respite. Nanako was asleep, tucked into bed by Souji because
Dojima'd gotten home too late again, and the television set was on but Dojima
barely paid attention to it, comforted some by the background noise. He grunted
when Souji came down the stairs and stood in the shadows.
"You look tense, Uncle."
Dojima wasn't in the mood to talk, stopped himself from saying a smart remark
by taking a sip of beer. Of course he was tense; the murder case was still
going nowhere, and hours of pouring over reports only led to confusion, dead
ends, and headaches.
"I can help you take care of that." Souji crept forward on quiet feet, the
light of the TV washing out his features. With slow, almost lazy movements, he
leaned over Dojima, long body trapping him in place without touching him. His
voice was odd but pitched in such a way that his next statement couldn't be
taken as anything other than invitation. "I'll make up for being such an
inconvenience. I promise I'll do a good job."
Dozens of reasons to say no: Souji was a boy and Dojima wasn't into that; he
was a minor and this was against the law; this was his nephew, put under his
care to be kept safe, and he wasn't going to betray the trust shown in him,
wasn't going to practice incest. But damn if Souji didn't how to tempt a man;
mind buzzing from his drinks, Dojima had never been more aware of just how
attractive he was with those long legs and pale skin, and even with an
unsettling, vacant look in them, his eyes were arresting. Pictures didn't do a
boy like him justice. Dojima'd said so on their meeting and he'd thought it
many times since, casually when they were eating dinner, dangerously when he
was alone. He thought it again now as he eyed the neck being presented to him,
gripped the forgotten beer in a hand that moved on the neck of the bottle
restlessly.
Easy to say yes in the dark; bad things, forbidden things, seemed more
forgivable then. Easier to close his eyes and pretend his nephew wasn't down on
his knees, hands working at his belt, on his cock, and to imagine that this was
someone else's mouth, someone else's tongue bringing him the kind of pleasure
he hadn't felt in too long.
"Wait, Souji, don't—"
Souji didn't wait. He licked harder and kept his mouth where it was, the
temptation too much for Dojima to resist. Afterwards, wiping his mouth on the
back of his hand, he didn't look happy. He didn't upset, either, and when he
stood up he wasn't even aroused. The blank look on his face made Dojima a
little nauseous, sobered him up some so he was more aware of what had just
occurred.
"Was it any good? Did you like it?"
After not being touched in years, anything would have been good, but this
hadn't been some sloppy first time blowjob. Souji knew what he was doing and
it'd been good enough to deserve praise, even as the reality of the moment
started to sink in. Gruffly, he said, "You were fine, Souji."
That got a reaction. The blank look on his face disappeared as Souji smiled in
obvious relief, and Dojima was struck by the realization that Souji hadn't
really smiled at him in weeks or looked at him with anything other than worry.
The knowledge made Dojima feel worse than ever, so he kept talking, hoping to
make up for his emotional absence. "Great, even. Couldn't have been better."
"You're embarrassing me." Speaking softly, Souji turned away to hide his face
but he couldn't stop Dojima from seeing the red flush that appeared or, more
telling, the bulge starting to form in his pants.
Curiosity got the best of him. "Haven't felt this good in a long while," he
said, and watched Souji pull his night shirt down to hide himself, breath
quickening. "You're too good to me."
Souji bit his lip, worried it between his teeth. "I should go to bed now."
"You do that."
Dojima waited a minute before following him up and putting an ear to his door.
Poorly muffled moans drifted through the wood, a breathless repetition of his
compliments spurring Souji towards a pathetic sounding orgasm.
Dojima took a shower and tried to forget the whole thing.
That turned out to be impossible, especially with the way Souji looked in the
morning, happier than he'd been in a while. Happier than he'd been around
Dojima, at least. Still watching himself to make sure he didn't get in the way,
true, but less worried glances now, no suddenly freezing up.
It could have stopped there. Dojima had this answer. A harsh dressing down
wasn't the answer; Souji needed praise, craved it so much that it physically
excited him. A few kind words could go a long way to keeping everything in
order and last night could be a forgotten footnote in their history, never
brought up or thought about again. He knew how to fix things, how to put them
back on track.
He told himself he wanted it to happen again because his hypothesis had to be
tested.
A few days of watching his words, of deliberately harping on small mistakes, a
couple of beers for courage, and a suggestion that Souji stay up and watch some
television with him after Nanako went to sleep put everything in place.
"It's been a hard week," he said and didn't have to fake the tiredness in his
voice, "and I still think you're up to something. You've been spending too much
time around Junes. Heard from Nanako you were there all afternoon."
"I'm not," Souji said, wilting under the words. It was odd to see him that way
when he was usually so confident and relaxed, so skilled at making other people
feel good about themselves. "I was just hanging out with Yosuke while he
worked."
Dojima knew that was true – he'd seen the two of them goofing off in the
aisles, the Junes boy trying to stock shelves while Souji alternated between
helping and hindering his progress – but it was still a way in, a chink in
Souji's armor. "I'm disappointed in you," he said. No need to fake the scolding
tone of his voice either, because that was true as well. He knew Souji was
hiding something, though he didn't know what, and the thought bothered him.
Souji hunched over, drawing in on himself. His mouth was set in a thin line,
eyes downcast.
A swig of beer to steel himself and then, staring at the TV without seeing it,
Dojima said, "Make it up to me."
He told himself this: if Souji did it again – did it without Dojima prompting
him – then he wanted it and there was no need for guilt. If Souji had to be
pushed or prodded or if he manned up and walked away, Dojima would never bring
it up again. He wasn't going to force him.
The relief he felt when Souji got between his legs was sickening.
It was better this time; the edge of desperation made it better. No blank,
staring eyes now, none of that odd, determined confidence. Souji watched him
carefully, responded to each twitch and sigh, and every line of his body showed
he was hoping for some kind word. When Dojima didn't speak, the seconds of
silence weighed down on him, made him work harder until he panted with
exertion.
Dojima tangled a hand in his hair, tugged him down. "Take some more."
Souji did without complaint, without gagging – good at this, why was the damn
kid so good at this? – eager to please, movements almost frantic with his need
for acknowledgement.
"You're doing fine." Dojima smoothed his hair back, used his hand to show Souji
what he wanted, thrust up sharply. "Just great."
Souji made a noise, half moan, half relieved sob, that went straight to
Dojima's cock, got him hard in a way that the sight of Souji kneeling before
him hadn't managed. When Dojima climaxed without warning, he milked every drop
out of him, swallowed, and came when Dojima patted his cheek and told him how
pleased he was.
After that, he withheld his praise, told himself it was because he didn't want
to spoil Souji. He was a young man, well past the age where he needed a father
figure to congratulate him over every little thing. Hard deny the thrill that
came with every little frown, though, the pleasure that went through him when
Souji flinched and looked away, or the amazing results it produced – Souji
dropping hard to his knees, tongue and mouth wrapped around him without
hesitation, eyes begging for some word of approval. He was almost vulgar in his
need for acceptance, and when Dojima gave the words he wanted, doled them out
like candy, Souji moaned obscenely and came in his pants.
Dojima thought of it as rent. He hadn't asked for a teenager to come live with
them, didn't know how to deal with one, and Souji's actions made up for the
hassle Dojima had to deal with, gave him a moment to forget about his troubles.
He soothed his conscious by reassuring himself that except for the hair
pulling, he wasn't touching Souji. If he got off, it was from his psychological
ticks, things Dojima couldn't control, and if he flattered himself by thinking
it wasn't the words so much as the fact that he was the one saying them then it
all boiled down to the reality that they were both getting what they wanted.
Souji had come to him that first time, had gone to his knees without prompt the
second. He did it willingly; he wanted this, would be devastated if Dojima told
him to stop.
It was for the boy's own good, really.
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