Play house

Ryotaro Dojima liked to think of himself as a rather sharp man—he was a detective after all, and a damn good one at that. He managed to put pieces together to solve cases so quickly it earned him a rain of pats on the shoulder from his colleagues every time, and he squeezed confessions out of suspects with almost graceful skill.

At home, however, he’d been pretty damn thick. Now when he finally realized that, he couldn’t for his life understand how he could not have seen it earlier.

It had begun with small things: the newspaper laying folded, already turned to the local pages, on the table every morning along with a glass of water and the little pill he now took once a day to fight off the beginning of an ulcer, a new toothbrush standing in the little glass on the bathroom sink every third week. Little things he wasn’t used to.

He hadn’t even registered what was going on when Souji had snuck the honorific back in when addressing him; how he more and more often appeared at the door when Dojima came home to welcome him, how a chilled beer can already waited for him on the table when he sunk down on the couch to watch the late news (the TV already set to the right channel when he turned it on.)

It hadn’t been until the evening his nephew offered to give him a foot rub when he sat on the couch, beer can in one hand, remote in the other, that things clicked in Dojima’s head. Souji had not only adopted the role of big brother to Nanako, he’d adopted the role of wife to Dojima.

Dojima had turned the offer down that night, disturbed by the sight of Souji already kneeling by his feet, looking up at him with a small smile and earnest eyes. He’d sent him to bed with a gruff command, telling him his feet were just fine, thank you very much.

That, however, hadn’t deterred Souji, and the offer had been repeated the next evening the moment Nanako had gone to bed, this time catching Dojima off guard. His feet were aching after a long day of walking around town searching for eye witnesses to a robbery, and before he knew it he’d accepted the offer.

It had been heavenly. His nephew had obviously known what he was doing and his slender hands (almost as delicate as a woman’s Dojima had noted, but with longer fingers; stronger) had made Dojima groan in pleasure.

The pink hue in Souji’s cheeks as he’d gotten up and excused himself after he’d finished, mumbling something about homework and paper cranes, had stirred something inside Dojima—a sensation he’d rather not explore lingering in his belly into the late hours of the night, making him twist and turn in his bed for a long time before he’d managed to go to sleep.

Still, the foot rubs had continued, soon followed by shoulder massages and questions if there was something else Souji could do for him: would he like another beer, was he cold, should Souji run a bath for him while he watched the news. And it had all been too pleasant to turn down. Although the uneasiness had taken up constant residence in Dojima’s gut, he’d found himself continue allowing Souji to serve him. It had reminded him of better days, when Chisato was still alive and took loving care of him after long days at work.

She’d never been nearly as subservient though.

Most of Souji’s new little gestures and offerings took place after Nanako’s bedtime, another thing that disturbed Dojima, but at the same time made him grateful. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see her reaction to her big bro sitting by her daddy’s feet or perched behind him. Then again he did notice Souji changing his behavior around her as well; laying out clothes for her in the morning and putting a piece of candy by her plate at dinner time, making boxed lunches for her and telling her when it was time to wash up and go to bed in the evenings. Nanako seemed to accept the changes happily. No wonder, Dojima thought, she must’ve been so fed up with bearing the brunt of keeping everything together at home by then. That was the major reason he let Souji go on.

He kept telling himself so, kept telling himself he’d have to buy the whole package, massages and all, to keep his daughter happy. But it was hard work keeping the lie up, what with Souji constantly on the verge of taking it one step too far, letting his hands linger on Dojima’s neck after he was finished; blushing as he slid his fingers between Dojima’s toes before cracking the joints and rubbing the pads. It ate Dojima from the inside and it angered him—an anger aimed at himself for enjoying it and letting it continue, an anger laced with dirty shame aimed at his nephew for starting it all and being such a goddamn tease about it.

They found themselves alone one evening, with Nanako spending the night at a friend’s house. Dojima sat on the couch with Souji by his feet, a bit drunk from the extra beer he tried to keep himself from having when Nanako was home. He kept glancing down at his nephew, suddenly irked by the submissive display, the anger he kept trying to choke down rising like bile in his throat.

When Souji started to ask him if he wanted his feet taken care of—a ritual they never strayed from, despite Dojima never turning the offer down—he cut him off by grabbing his shoulder and pushing him back. “Why are you doing this, Souji?”

Souji gaped, blinking rapidly as he visibly tried to collect his thoughts. “I… I thought you liked it, Dojima-san.”

“It’s not your job to take care of me!” It came out sharper than Dojima had intended but he found it increasingly hard to hold back and he dug his fingers into Souji’s shoulder hard enough to make him wince.

“N—no, of course not, Dojima-san, but I know how hard you work and I just want to make you f—feel good. Help you relax.” Souji was biting his lip. He looked nervous, a look Dojima had never seen on his face before.

“You’re not my damn wife! Why are you acting like one? ‘Want to make me feel good’?”

“I know I’m not your…your… But you said we’re a family now, the three of us, and I wanted to do my part. If that makes me the wife, then…” He hung his head with a sigh and continued in a whisper, “…Then so be it.”

Dojima watched his nephew closely, noting the blush creeping up his neck, the same way it did when he got aroused while— Aroused. Yes, of course he got aroused. Dojima could deny it all he wanted but he knew very well why Souji kept excusing himself and hurry to his room after their little sessions. He’d just not wanted to know that, so he’d shoved it into a dark and dusty corner of his mind.

Because the thought was far too exciting.

Now, with alcohol making his blood rush and his head spin, he found the walls he’d built to keep forbidden thoughts away crumble, his nephew’s words ringing in his ears. He leaned back on the couch again, spreading his thighs wide and grabbing the upholstery tight. “So you do want to act the wife. And you want to make me feel good?”

Souji gave a hesitant nod.

“Then why don’t you do that. Why don’t you come here and make me feel good. It’s a wife’s duty after all, isn’t it?” Before he knew it, he’d slid a hand down to his crotch and grabbed himself through his pants, as if emphasis was even needed.

Souji replied by simply getting up on his knees and shuffling one step forward to settle between Dojima’s legs, and next he knew he had his nephew’s hand on his wrist, pulling his hand to the side, and his lips on his cock, mouthing it through the fabric of his pants and he couldn’t do much else but throw his head back and groan.

It had been years. Dojima hadn’t taken a partner since his wife died—the thought had barely crossed his mind. He’d settled for his right hand, somehow feeling he’d desecrate Chisato’s memory if he shared their bed with someone else. He’d forgotten how good it felt with another person touching his dick. The massages had been one thing, a great thing, but this…this was in a whole ‘nother league and Dojima realized there was no way he’d be able to break things off now. It was too good. It was too late.

“Souji… Take it out.” He let the hand Souji had pulled away settle on his head instead, running fine, gray hair between his fingers, scratching the scalp lightly, as he would a dog.

Souji moaned quietly, rubbing his face against Dojima’s crotch with a warm sigh before starting to work on his belt with deft fingers, soon moving on to the button and zipper of his pants. Once open he slid his fingers under the elastic of the underwear found beneath, pulling up and then sliding them down, carefully making sure the cock springing up didn’t get caught in the fabric. He held the underwear out of the way with one hand while grabbing the ruddy shaft with the other, pulling it upright and running his lips over the head without pausing.

When he lifted his head a moment later and looked up at Dojima his lips were glistening with precome, and the sight made Dojima want to grab the hair in his hand tight and force that slick mouth over his cock, right down to the base. Instead he settled for closing his hand just slightly, enough to hint at what he could do, and pushed lightly. “Suck it.”

When Souji moaned again the situation hit Dojima like a freight train and it turned him on beyond belief. The thought of his nephew acting his wife, taking care of him, servicing him, letting him have his way, made him shudder hard and—all the shame, the knowledge this was beyond wrong, it was sick, firmly pushed aside—he let the fantasy take over. “Yeah, be a good little wife and suck it.”

This time Souji let out a whimper, before parting his lips and taking the head of Dojima’s cock in his mouth, running the flat of his tongue over it and sucking lightly.

“Oh fuck yes, Souji, like that. Now take it deeper.”

Souji obeyed without hesitation. Good girl, Dojima found himself thinking , glad it hadn’t slipped from his mouth as well. Then again, who knew; maybe Souji would love being called a good girl. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t warped already, getting off on sucking his uncle off, pretending to be his wife. Oh god.

Souji’s lips wrapped tight around the shaft of Dojima’s cock and slid down, the slick insides of his cheeks following as he sucked hard. He kept his teeth out of the way and didn’t stop until his mouth met the fingers still wrapped around the base. There he stilled, instead working his tongue, letting it slip and slide wherever it could reach, before slowly starting to pull up again, keeping it pressed hard against the underside.

It was obvious this wasn’t his first time tending to a man and the thought made an unexpected tendril of anger wrap tight around Dojima’s chest and squeeze. He meant to comment on it, snap at Souji for being a slut, something, but Souji’s mouth felt far too good for him to be able to voice his anger. Instead he channeled it by tightening his grip in Souji’s hair and pushing his head down again, until his lips pressed hard against his fist. The moan Souji let out vibrated against his skin and made him moan in return. “Shit, that’s it, Souji… Now let go of my cock and show me how much of it you can take.”

He looked on, almost in a daze, as Souji did as he was told, releasing his grip and letting himself be pushed down until the head pressed against the back of his throat. He wasn’t quite there, there was still an inch or two left before he’d have his lips wrapped around the base and his nose buried in pubic hair, but it would have to do. Dojima kept Souji there for a moment, relishing the feeling of almost pushing into Souji’s throat, before easing up and letting his cock slip from Souji’s mouth with a wet ‘pop’. “Good…” he murmured, tilting Souji’s head up with a finger under his chin. “Now tell me where you learned to suck cock.”

Souji’s eyes were hazy as they tried to focus on Dojima’s face, and he was gulping down air, working his mouth as if he was about to speak, but nothing came out.

“Spit it out. As your… husband I’d love to know where those skills come from.” Dojima smiled crookedly.

“I—I…”

Dojima shook Souji’s head lightly, drawing a moan from him. The color in his cheeks had risen dramatically, going from pink to a deep red. “I haven’t got all night, Souji.”

“O—old school,” Souji panted, “classmate.”

So it wasn’t anyone from around here. Dojima felt relief wash over him, the tight feeling around his chest letting up and fading. Still he found himself too curious to just leave off there. “How? Sneaking away between classes for a quickie in the boys’ bathroom? Going down on him in your room as you pretended to study? Sleepovers? I bet he loved it, having your pretty mouth on his cock… Did he return the favor?”

Souji had grabbed Dojima’s thighs, squeezing and relaxing his hands over and over, as if it helped him think, or calm down. “Yes,” he finally said, his voice only wobbling the slightest bit, “all three of those. And no, it was just… just me.”

Dojima snorted. “He never got you off? What a little bastard.”

“No.” Squeeze, relax, squeeze. “He did. Just not with his mouth.”

“Did he fuck you?” The question slipped from Dojima’s mouth before he knew it.

Souji swallowed hard, his eyes glazing over again. “No...” It came out as a moan.

“Has anyone ever fucked you, Souji?”

Souji’s eyes fluttered closed and his head tilted back, exposing the flushed column of his neck. “No, Dojima-san. You’d be the…”

Dojima groaned, wanting Souji’s mouth back on his dick now, the thought of Souji spreading his long legs for him and offer up his virginity, doing his duty, driving him out of his mind. His voice was thick when he managed to speak. “You’d let me fuck you?”

“Yes. Yes, Dojima-san. Please.”

It was all he could take. He pushed Souji’s head down again, rubbed his face against his sticky cock while making muttered promises that he would. He’d fuck Souji good, make him come hard, make him never forget it, fuck him like it was their wedding night. And Souji whimpered, lips and tongue sliding over sweat-slick skin, obviously trying to catch Dojima’s cock in his mouth again. After a while Dojima let him, letting up his grip completely and just looking on as Souji managed to suck him back in, taking him as far as he could without being encouraged this time, as far as he could and then a little more, choking on it, so eager Dojima could feel his orgasm start to build in record speed. Would Souji let him come in his mouth? Maybe he wanted it all over his face. Maybe he didn’t want it all. But that wasn’t Dojima’s problem, now was it? He would just have to be a good little wife and take it.

“Make me come, Souji.”

The little tilt of Souji’s head could be interpreted as a yes, his increased administrations definitely so. He worked Dojima’s cock almost desperately; wet, obscene noises filled the room together with choked moans and Dojima’s heavy breathing. Souji took him as deep as he could every time he dipped his head, gagging lightly but never slowing down. The amount of saliva it produced was ridiculous, staining Dojima’s pants and drenching his pubes, trickling down over his balls. He’d never seen anything like it before. It was all so messy and nasty and damn if he didn’t found himself wanting to add to it. When he was about to finally tip over the edge he grabbed Souji by the hair again and tugged him off his cock, held him in place as he jerked himself off with quick, rough strokes, his knuckles smacking against Souji’s already swollen lips over and over before tugging him back a little more and coming with a deep, drawn out groan, painting his nephew’s face in thick streaks of white.

He stared at the sight in front of him. Souji was a total mess: one glob of semen gluing his right eye shut, another hanging from the tip of his nose, with the rest joining the already thick coat of saliva on his lips and chin. His clean eye was locked on Dojima and his mouth hung open, the tip of his tongue trailing his stained bottom lip. His cheeks were still a deep red and his breath came in quick shallow pants and Dojima was pretty sure he’d never seen anyone as debauched before and it was all because…

…All because Souji had apparently imagined playing the role of a wife, serving Dojima and playing his part in the household. And Dojima highly doubted sitting between his drunken uncle’s thighs with his face full of come fitted into that little fantasy.

With a guilty hand he squeezed the last few drops from his cock and wiped it off on his pants before zipping himself back up. Next he sat up straight and once more looked his nephew over.

Souji was still panting, now running fingers over his face, catching every last drop and lapping it up. It was glaringly obvious it all did fit into his fantasy. When Dojima glanced down he could even see a dark stain spreading on the front of Souji’s slacks.

The kid had come in his pants from sucking Dojima off.

A shaky ‘thank you’ made him jerk and look up again.

“Shouldn’t it be me thanking you?”

“Maybe… No… No. Thank you. I hope I… um, did a good job?”

“You felt good, Souji.” Dojima could hardly believe himself when he lifted a hand and patted Souji on the head. He nearly gasped when Souji smiled then and stretched, rubbing against Dojima’s hand. Like a pet.

Then Souji looked down, hanging his head, the smile melting off his face. “I just want to take care of you, Dojima-san,” he mumbled, “Wife or not… I don’t care. Just let me.”

Dojima swallowed hard. He reached down and cupped Souji’s face in his hands and tilted his head back up, searching his eyes. “So you want… this to happen again?”

Souji instantly nodded in his grip.

Images of Souji indeed acting a wife, of Dojima letting him, of him massaging Dojima’s feet after a long day at work, of him ushering Nanako to bed, of Dojima sneaking up behind him and kissing his neck as he stood in the kitchen cooking dinner, of him giving Dojima a messy blowjob on the couch, of him clinging to Dojima and kissing him senseless as Dojima moved deep inside him, gripping his thighs and fucking him to orgasm, of him—

God, they were already halfway there. More than halfway—Souji had served him in a way that was wrong on so many levels Dojima didn’t even bother counting them. Would this actually work? If he turned off his conscience and knowledge of what was right and wrong?

He wanted it; he wanted it so badly he could taste it. But surely he couldn’t?

But who would know...

And he’d missed the warmth of another person close to him for so long.

And Souji was so willing and eager...

Dojima took a deep breath. “Alright.”

The smile he was rewarded with was all he needed to bury his bad conscience. He’d make it work.