Play house

The foot rubs continued—not followed by spit drenched blowjobs, but still, or maybe because of it, heavily tinged with sexual tension. Of course. More than once Dojima had been sure Souji would take his toes in his mouth as he lifted his foot to his chest and dipped his head while digging his thumbs into the arch and sliding them in small, powerful circles. It never happened though, never came closer than Dojima being able to feel Souji’s quick little breaths against his skin.



No, the foot rubs were chaste in an utterly perverse way. It left them both hard but they kept themselves from taking it further, still trying to ease their way into some sort of relationship where Souji kept attending to Dojima’s needs, as well as Nanako’s, and that sure wasn’t an easy feat, now that Dojima knew what lay beneath Souji’s caring and considerate surface. Not to mention what lay under his own. And so the tension kept building, soon turning paper thin and threatening to rip any second. After every session Souji still excused himself and went upstairs and more than once Dojima jerked off on the couch, thinking of his nephew doing the same in his room, pushed to the edge just from kneeling and touching his feet.



Souji looked more and more desperate every time he got to his feet and left the room but kept his mouth shut, apparently thinking it was Dojima’s call if they should take another step or not.



And Dojima kept holding back, partly because they needed time, but partly because he could. He could make Souji this way, shaky and desperate and it was such a goddamn hot sight he couldn’t help himself, despite shame burning like wildfire in his chest. But when that twisted little pleasure after some time turned into something like pity, he finally decided to just let things play out as they happened.



That night the massage he got was glorious. Souji’s skilled fingers worked magic on his feet, easing every tiny bit of tension there was and finishing it off with just the pads of his thumbs sliding over one sole over and over and over, making Dojima groan and sigh in pleasure and having to struggle hard to snap out of hazy bliss when Souji cleared his throat and stilled his fingers.



“There... How’s that?” Despite the deep voice sounding steady, albeit breathless, Dojima could feel his nephew’s hands tremble.



“Good. Thank you.”



When Souji put Dojima’s foot down a moment later and wiped his palms over his thighs, he looked up at him with an almost pleading look on his face. “Dojima-san, I should go to my room and—”



Dojima straightened up, letting his eyes slide from slightly tousled hair and red cheeks down to the prominent bulge in gray uniform pants. He weighed things over in his mind for a second before lifting his foot and planting it straight on top of Souji’s cock, pushing lightly. The sharp gasp it produced sent a thrill down his spine. “To take care of this?” He pushed a little harder and could see Souji dig his fingers into his thighs, probably fighting back the urge to thrust back.



“Y—yeah…”



“Why don’t you do it right here?” Dojima rubbed his foot against Souji, slowly sliding it up and down before pressing his heel against where he guessed the head of Souji’s cock would be. He was rewarded with another gasp.



“Do—Dojima-san?” Souji’s hands slid hesitantly up his thighs, as if he was waiting for proper permission to touch himself.



A sense of power spread in Dojima, setting his nerves on fire but cooling his head. He had Soujii—and his pleasure—in the palm of his hand. He could allow him or deny him and he was pretty sure Souji would obey and if that wasn’t a heady feeling, he didn’t know what was. “Here…” He slid his foot down between Souji’s spread legs, hooking it under his ass and urging him to come closer. Souji took the hint and shuffled forward best he could on his knees, until his crotch was in full contact with Dojima’s shin. “Use this.”



Souji looked up at him; confusion and hesitation written on his face, making Dojima nearly roll his eyes. It was an adorable sight, arousing as fuck, but still—it couldn’t be that hard to get what he meant. He flexed the leg trapped between Souji’s thighs a little, lifted an eyebrow.



And then Souji got the point, and he blushed so hard Dojima was worried for a second he’d faint. He sat absolutely still for a moment, mortified, before finally hesitantly rolling his hips, rubbing up closer against Dojima.



“That’s it…”



Souji repeated the move, a little more confident this time. He bit down on his bottom lip and leaned forward, bracing himself with a hand on Dojima’s thigh. A moan escaped him the next time he thrust forward and soon it was a stream of poorly held back little noises as he rode Dojima’s leg.



Like a dog, Dojima thought. He found himself unable to look away from Souji’s face, from the perfect combination of shame and arousal, and it hit him how much this weird, fucked up little thing of theirs taught him about his own sexuality—his turn ons and needs. He supposed he could dig into it, fully analyze what made him tick, but he knew going down that road would force him to scrutinize what he was actually doing to his nephew, and the fact it was his goddamn nephew in the first place, and that just couldn’t happen. Not now, not when he had said nephew straddling his leg and whining like a puppy, leaking so heavily Dojima could feel it start to dampen the fabric of his own pants. It just felt far too good, looked far too good, fed far too much into dark parts of him that had slumbered until now.



“God, Dojima-san…” Souji sounded as if he had trouble breathing, only managing shallow, scratchy panting as he worked his hips in a broken, almost desperate rhythm.



Dojima put his hand on Souji’s head, digging his fingers into his scalp and scratching for a moment, before grabbing a handful of hair—not tugging, just closing his fist tight in it, knowing it would be appreciated. “You look good like this, Souji.” He bent down, gently tilted Souji’s head back and looked him straight in the eye. “Come for me.”



Souji let out a high keening noise and convulsed in Dojima’s grip. When he jerked again, rubbing up so hard against Dojima he was pushed further back into the couch, he found his proper voice and gasped Dojima’s name, then kept repeating it as he came.



“God, Dojima-san, oh yes, Dojima-san. Please, please Do-ji-ma-san, so good…”



“Good…” Dog? Girl? “…boy.” Dojima hesitated, seeing how vulnerable Souji looked when lost in pleasure, sexy as hell but completely naked. He was starting to realize what amount of responsibility lay in the role he’d taken. If he were to reduce Souji to this, he was the one who had to bring him back to his confident self afterwards. “You look… so pretty like this, Souji.” He released his grip in Souji’s hair and instead raked his fingers through it, over and over, his heart clenching at the sight of Souji trying to catch his breath, his hips still jerking unevenly, the fingers digging into Dojima’s thighs slowly straightening out. “Thanks for letting me see that. I… appreciate it.”



Souji opened his eyes and met his uncle’s gaze, pupils still blown and long lashes glued together by a stray tear or two. He did look pretty…and exhausted. “What about you, Dojima-san? Let me…” He reached after Dojima’s belt, but was stopped by a firm grip.



“I’m good. Don’t worry about it.”



“But…”



“Next time, Souji. Go wash up, go to bed.” Dojima let Souji’s hands go and straightened up on the couch. “You look like you could need some sleep.”



At that Souji smiled. “Yeah... I think I maybe do.” He slid back on the floor and unsteadily got to his feet, wiping the front of his pants as if trying to remove the stain, but instead rubbing it in deeper. He wrinkled his nose a little and looked down to check the damage.



“Drop ‘em in the hamper, I’ll take care of it while you shower.” Dojima met Souji’s smile before looking down at his own pants, ignoring his erection and instead focusing on the dark spot on the leg. “Need to wash these as well.”



Souji snorted quietly, his version of a chuckle. “I’m sorry about that. I can take care of it if—”



Dojima help up a hand. “No, I got it. Now get going. It’s way past your bedtime anyways.”



Souji stood there for a while, hesitating, as if he wanted to argue some more or maybe lean down for a goodnight kiss. He settled for the tiniest of bows, just a tilt of the head. “Goodnight, Dojima-san.”



“’Night, kid.”



When Souji headed up the stairs, Dojima could see him wobble slightly. It made him grin and frown at the same time. He’d walked a fine line between treating Souji as a lover (toy, a voice in the back of his head added) and a teen in his care and he had no idea if he’d actually managed the feat. But at least Souji had smiled. It would have to do.



For now.