A/n: Written for the Persona 4 kink meme on livejournal. I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell for it.

This contains noncon, albeit of the non-violent kind. Also, December spoilers ahoy!

ooo

"I'm home!"

Dojima is carrying something that turns out to be a whole platter of prettily arranged sushi, enough for four, through the door. Behind him his partner, Adachi, ambles in, a plastic bag in his hand Souji suspects contains beer—beer and melon soda. Dojima always buys melon soda, it's Nanako's favorite. A bit too sweet for Souji's taste but he never complains.

The dinner starts out calm enough, Adachi chatting happily and Dojima cutting in with sour grunts. Nanako tells them about her day and Souji recounts King Moron's latest outburst, censored for his little cousin's sake—all the swears cut out.

Eventually it gets a little louder. Dojima is drunk and maybe Adachi is too, but the glances he shoots in Souji's direction are strangely sharp, even when he trips over his words as he tries to teach Nanako a word game. Souji keeps a constant frown hidden under his bangs, an unpleasant feeling growing in his stomach and making it ache. He puts Nanako to bed before his uncle starts nodding off where he sits at the table.

Adachi stands too close to Souji by the kitchen counter as they sort the trash and do the dishes. Their elbows meet repeatedly but Souji doesn't move away; he doesn't want to offend. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Adachi's voice is suddenly close to his ear, though.

"You know, you've eyelashes like a girl, Souji-kun. Funny I never noticed before."

Souji's eyebrows shoot up. He wonders if he heard that wrong. Adachi wouldn't—

"And your eyes are just… I'm sorry. I shouldn't."

He does step to the side then, enough to turn and face Adachi, take in the mildly sheepish look on his face, the drunken slackness around his eyes and mouth. He's had a few more beers after he shot Souji those curious looks at the table and it shows.

Souji puts on the disarming little half-smile he uses when he's not sure what to say or do. Uneasy curiosity tickles the back of his mind. His eyes are just what?

"That's ok…" he mutters a moment later, about to add that it's time for Adachi to leave. Dojima's already gone to bed after all and Souji should too; he's got school tomorrow. But a damp thumb pressed against his bottom lip makes his mouth snap shut.

"The prettiest little mouth, too. Lips made for…"

And then Adachi kisses him. He tastes faintly of beer and wasabi and it's not unpleasant but it doesn't cover the fact Souji's got a man's—and adult's—a police officer's lips on his. He's never been kissed before and he never in his life imagined it would happen like this. It overwhelms him, rendering him unable to move or respond. He just stands there like an idiot, dishwater dripping from his fingers, staring at a face too close to come into focus, and takes it. He doesn't even move when one of Adachi's hands sneak up to rest on the back of his neck and a tongue pushes between his lips and wipes over his clenched teeth.

He doesn't move when Adachi pulls back with a nervous laugh either, putting a modest distance between them and holding his hands up in apology.

"I really shouldn't have done that."

Souji starts back into life then, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before replying. "No, you shouldn't." He hesitates, needing to know what that was, what Adachi had wanted with that, what he'd done to give Adachi the idea he'd be allowed to do that. Instead he blurts out something about homework and bed, pushes past Adachi and flees up the stairs.

Adachi can let himself out.

ooo

A week passes. Souji cooks this evening: a spicy curry for him, Dojima and Nanako. What was supposed to be his lunch the day after goes to Adachi who has the most apologetic smile on his face when he steps through the door, slightly hunched over—cowed—as he takes a seat by the low table and allows Souji to serve him.

Souji loses his appetite at the sight of him. Maybe there'll be enough leftovers to make lunch anyways.

A couple of hours later he's pressed up against the kitchen wall, Adachi's arms keeping him trapped. This time he kisses back, shame and arousal mingling in his belly to the point where he doesn't know which is which, but it soothes over the panic that boils beneath. His knees nearly buckle when Adachi shoves a leg between his, his skinny thigh rubbing against Souji's crotch and making him hard in record time.

A few meters away Dojima is snoring on the couch.

"I can't help myself," Adachi says, a quiet mumble in Souji's ear. "And neither can you, it seems."

Souji's all but humping Adachi's thigh.

He hadn't even noticed.

When he freezes up, Adachi's hands slip down to his hips, pulling him closer, urging him to continue. It takes a moment for him to understand—his brain is far too busy trying to take in the sensation of Adachi working his hips for him—but in the end he gives in and starts moving again.

He doesn't really want to, he doesn't even want to be there; he doesn't want Adachi's tongue tickling the roof of his mouth and his hands grabbing his ass. But he can't stop—the crazy excitement over being so close to another person for the first time in his life overrides the discomfort, works his hips and moves his tongue. He moans into Adachi's mouth, forgetting where he is and feels an unfamiliar thrill race down his spine when Adachi slaps a hand over his mouth and hiss at him to be quiet.

He's almost disappointed when the hand disappears a moment later, then hopes desperately it doesn't show on his face. There's a glimmer in Adachi's eyes—a hint of something almost malicious—that tells him it does, and he cringes, closes his eyes hard and waits for a comment that never comes. When he looks back up Adachi's back to normal, his eyes big and dark and aroused, yes, but harmless, almost kind. Then Adachi is kissing him again.

They break apart before Souji comes. Before Adachi does too, for that matter, but Souji hasn't even spared his pleasure a thought; he's been far too wrapped up in his own. Adachi doesn't seem disappointed, though. He's smiling, gently straightening Souji's messy hair with a curiously steady hand while adjusting himself with the other.

"We can't do this here." Adachi's smile falters; a little crease appears between his eyebrows. "We can't do this at all." His fingers slide down Souji's cheek, two tips pressing between lips parting far too willingly and allowing him to rub them over a slick tongue. "But you're so tempting, Souji-kun." Adachi's already quiet voice drops into an almost inaudible whisper. "Do you have any idea of what kind of signals you send? You make it impossible for a man to—" He cuts himself off, extracts his fingers and absently wipes them off on his pants. "I should go. I'm sorry, kid. This won't happen again." He bows slightly in apology before turning on his heel, quickly puts his jacket and shoes on and leaves.

Souji stands pressed against the wall, rubbing his fingers over his lips, for a long while after he's gone.

ooo

It's been nearly a month since Adachi's last visit. Souji's been so busy fighting his way through steamy bathhouse corridors he hasn't had the time to truly dwell on what went down that night. Sure, the low-pitched moans echoing around him as he led his band of merry shadow slayers to where Kanji was trapped, and Kanji's taunting, raging queen of a shadow in itself have given him plenty of opportunity to face the fact he gets off on the thought of men—men doing things to him—and he's blushed several times to the point his friends have gotten worried, asking him if he was ok, when remembering Adachi's hands on him and how hard he'd been, but he's been too caught up, too exhausted to come to any sort of conclusion. Wondering about what signals he sends had been put on hold.

It all crashes over him when Adachi walks through the door, two steps behind Dojima as always, and offers him a smile while putting bags of takeout down on the kitchen table. He nearly staggers, suddenly so self-conscious he finds himself staring at his feet, only mumbling a hello and hoping his cheeks aren't as red as they feel. He doesn't want to send the wrong signals—he doesn't want to send any signals at all.

The takeout turns out to be beef bowls from Aiya's, not the rainy day special kind, but still with enough meat for both Nanako and Dojima to push their bowls away and declaring themselves full before they've barely even reached the rice. Souji quickly does the same, glad for an excuse to leave his dinner without having to explain his lack of appetite.

Adachi on the other hand eats happily, finishing his meal without any complaint.

Afterwards it's just a repetition of the last time they had dinner together. Dojima gets drunk, Nanako gets uncomfortable, Souji tries to keep a balance between the two and Adachi chats happily about things he shouldn't and things that have no substance at all. A few hours pass before Nanako's taken shelter in her room, Dojima has passed out in his and Souji finds himself alone in the kitchen with Adachi. Again.

He could've excused himself at any time and gone to his room to do homework, but something keeps him back. Adachi does. His curiosity does. His cock hardening in his pants, uncomfortably pressed down against his leg, does.

They clean up in silence, Souji washing the dishes and Adachi drying them without being asked. They make a good team, Souji thinks to himself with a crooked little smile, but draws his lips back into a thin, pale line when he realizes Adachi is watching him.

The moment they're done Souji's got Adachi's hand squeezing his shoulder. "I know what I said," Adachi says, his voice a little unsteady, "but you keep doing that, that little thing with your mouth. You keep teasing, Souji-kun, and I'm not a strong man. I can't hold back."

Souji has no idea of what he's talking about, wishes he'd dwelt more on the thought of how he presents himself, tries as hard as he can to understand but comes up with nothing. He wants to ask but can't muster the courage; he just stands there, doing his best not to let his gaze shy away from Adachi's.

"Show me your room," Adachi says.

Souji does.

Soon after that Souji learns that he likes to suck cock. He's not good at it, Adachi keeps correcting him: punishing by tugging his hair a little when he accidentally scrapes his teeth against the swollen flesh in his mouth, rewarding by petting him when he takes it deep without gagging, but he's ridiculously hard, turned on beyond belief by kneeling between Adachi's spread legs, by the thought of sucking someone off on the little couch in his room. At one point he tries to relieve himself, tugging at his belt while moaning around Adachi's cock, but Adachi tells him no, and he stops.

Souji's fumbling in the dark here and Adachi knows what he's doing. Souji sees no reason not to follow his lead. He's not comfortable with it, not comfortable with Adachi jerking his hips to push deeper, even though the head of his cock is already lodged in the back of Souji's throat, and not comfortable with being denied his own pleasure. But just as Souji knows how to lead in the TV world, he knows how to follow in this one when someone shows authority he can't deny. He swallows the lump in his throat—making Adachi hiss in pleasure—and keeps his head down. Not that he'd been able to hold it high anyways; Adachi's grip in his hair is steady.

Adachi pulls out before he comes to Souji's surprise and mild disappointment, and tucks himself away, fighting a little to be able to close his pants over his erection before telling Souji to switch places with him.

This time it feels good to obey.

Seated between Souji's thighs Adachi reaches up and starts unbuttoning his shirt. There's something like a smirk on his face, a look Souji has never seen on him before and it confuses him a little. He doesn't have time to dwell on it though; Adachi's nimble fingers have found his nipples and are tweaking them lightly. He arches his back with a choked moan.

"Your body is so lewd, Souji-kun." Adachi releases his nipples and trails his fingers down his chest, letting them linger on his stomach as it rises and falls with every quick little breath. "Perfect, really." The smirk remains on his face as he looks up and meets Souji's eyes. "You're just aching for it, aren't you…"

It isn't a question, just a simple statement, but Souji nods anyways. He is. His pants are far too tight and he can even feel his damn pulse in his cock, making it, yeah, ache. "Please, Adachi-san…"

Adachi acts as if he didn't hear him. "You know what I'd like to do to you right now?"

Souji shakes his head, begging with his hips instead of his mouth now, moving them restlessly, squirming where he sits.

Adachi rises on his knees, leans in so close their noses nearly touch. "Fuck you." He muffles Souji's low groan with his lips, waiting until he's quiet before he pulls back. "Your body is just made for fucking."

He states it like it's an obvious truth, but Souji's had no idea that was the case. Has he been walking around Inaba just begging for it up until now? Is he really that…that lewd? The words flatter and confuse him in equal amounts and he doesn't know what to say. On top of it he feels panic start to rise inside him. He doesn't want to get fucked. Not here. Not by Adachi. At least he thinks he doesn't. "I—I…"

"Don't worry. I won't. But I sure would like to. Bet you're a great little lay once you get the hang of it."

Souji's eyes widen in surprise. By now he knows exactly how dirty Adachi's mouth can be, but that sounded so demeaning. And the smirk is still there.

Adachi is… No, this is wrong. No. Souji can't do this.

He grabs Adachi's shoulders, about to push him off, but a hand on his cock, squeezing it hard through his pants, stops him in his tracks and the protest on his tongue warps into a whine. He closes his eyes hard and hangs his head, biting his tongue to try and stop himself from making any more embarrassing noises.

"Just picture it for a moment," Adachi says, squeezing Souji harder, to the point of pain. "Face down, a fat cock pounding your sweet little ass." His tone is light, conversational almost—miles from the deep, firm one he used only a moment ago.

It's all so confusing and it's impossible to straighten it out with Adachi's hand on his dick, making his thoughts go haywire, making his skin feel so thin it's about to split. And why is it so hot in his room? He can hardly breathe and he feels drops of sweat form on his forehead and roll down his temples. "D—don't—" he manages, digging his fingers into Adachi's shoulders, fists the fabric of his shirt hard.

"Too much?" Adachi's voice, now mild and concerned, throws Souji off again. It's like he flips through a collection of moods, of masks.

Souji jerks his head in a nod, still refusing to open his eyes.

"Alright." Adachi lets up the grip on his cock, just keeping his hand there, cupping it lightly. "I'm sorry..." He pauses, increases the pressure of his hand for a moment and wrings another whine from Souji. "But just imagine it for a second, kid. Humor me."

And so Souji does. The mental image spreads out like a blanket over his scattered thoughts and raging emotions. He sees himself belly down on his futon, face buried in his pillow, and he imagines the feeling of someone resting their hands on his shoulders while pushing into him, thighs straddling his ass.

His toes curl as he imagines the sounds he'd make, how his cock would leak precome and stain the futon, how good it would feel to get fucked. His firm conviction it would scares him.

"Yeah… You can see it now, can't you, kid." Adachi's hands work on Souji's belt and zipper, freeing his cock in seconds. He starts stroking it—long, slow tugs with an extra squeeze at the tip—and Souji's mind goes blank again.

"Know how I'd do it?"

Souji jolts, his eyes flying open and meeting Adachi's. The gaze is friendly, but with a hint of something sharp buried beneath, narrowed just slightly. It's good old Adachi in front of him, but with a twist. Good old Adachi Souji is starting to realize he doesn't know at all. He doesn't nod, doesn't shake his head; he just keeps staring.

Adachi stills his hand, only working his thumb over a spot that makes Souji jerk, right under the head, one Souji likes to rub and press himself when he masturbates. "I'd let you ride me. On a couch, like this. I'd have you straddle my lap and fuck yourself on my cock."

Souji whimpers, eyes still locked on Adachi.

"Yeah. I want to see you work those pretty hips hard to get yourself off. You'd be amazing." Adachi starts moving again, staring back at Souji while jerking him off, the smirk gone, his mouth slack with arousal now, his voice heated. "You'd be a good boy, wouldn't you? You'd come all over my belly."

"Oh god…"

"How about that, Souji-kun… It's a nice thought, isn't it? Coming with your ass full of cock?"

It is. It's such a nice thought Souji comes without warning, with just enough presence to bury his cry in the crook of his arm as he scrunches his eyes shut and spills over Adachi's hand.

"God, you little…"

And Souji's almost sure he hears Adachi finish that sentence, hissing 'bitch' under his breath, but it doesn't seem right; no, he must've heard it wrong because Adachi is smiling at him when he comes back to his senses, a handkerchief presented from somewhere wiping him down carefully, gentle hands zipping him back up as soon as he's clean. The smile really is friendly this time; it's as if Adachi got his release when Souji did and is just as sated as him. Souji dares to throw a glance at his crotch, but there's no stain, no sign he'd come in his pants.

Souji's back to confused, but he manages a small smile back. "Thank you," he says. "That felt really good." He doesn't touch on the topic of the scenario Adachi spun, doesn't want to dwell on how dirty it had been.

"You're welcome," Adachi says and pats Souji's knee before getting to his feet. "You up for returning the favor?"

"I—uh. I guess so?"

"Figured. You're a good boy, Souji-kun. Just slide your ass off the couch and stay on your knees. This'll be quick."

It is. Adachi jerks himself off while keeping Souji's head in a firm grip, and comes in his face a minute or two later, watery semen spattering all over it, from his chin up to his hair.

Souji feels humiliated, but thinks this is the least he can do after Adachi getting him off. He takes it without a word, waiting until Adachi's wiped the final drops off on his lips and tucked himself back into his pants before getting to his feet and reaching for the box of tissues standing by the TV. He nabs a handful and starts wiping his face, more roughly than he'd maybe meant to.

"Whoa. Whoa there, kid. Take it easy." Adachi catches his wrist in one hand and the tissues in the other and finishes the job for him, a lot gentler. "I didn't mean to freak you out." He ends it with an apologetic kiss to Souji's forehead, holding sticky bangs to the side. "I just figured you weren't up to sucking me off, wanted to go easy on you. Plus…" He kisses Souji again. "With the way you are, I figured you'd like it if I did it like that. Guess I was way off on that one, huh?" Another kiss, gentle fingers combing through his hair. "I'm sorry."

Souji takes deep breaths through his nose and tries to shove the burning shame now residing in his chest to the side; he can't deal with it right now, not with Adachi in the room. The hand in his hair is comforting but he can't get Adachi's words out of his head. What way is he to give Adachi the idea he'd want something like that?

But he just can't bring himself to ask.

"No, it's ok. You just surprised me." It comes out weak but it's the best he can do. He clenches his fists by his sides and hopes it's good enough for Adachi to just let it rest.

"…Well, ok. If you say so." Adachi lets out a little chuckle and ruffles Souji's hair before pulling away, and Souji just barely manages to hold back a sigh of relief. Adachi takes a couple of steps back, giving Souji a quick onceover before offering him a smile that's almost goofy. "Man, look at you. You're amazing, Souji-kun. Just amazing."

Somehow the compliment doesn't quite stick. Scattered parts of the evening start to come together in Souji's head and he finds he can't buy the goofiness anymore. Adachi's gone through too many moods too quickly for Souji to believe in any of them. He stays quiet.

Adachi looks uncomfortable, rubbing his neck and glancing to the side. "Overdid that one, huh..." He smiles sheepishly before running his fingers through his hair and straightening his tie. "Guess I should head home. And you look like you could need a shower." He takes a hesitant step forward, his eyes searching Souji's face. "Will you let me kiss you goodnight?"

Souji hesitates, shame and worry and budding anger warring inside him, but in the end he gives in, closes the distance between them and lets Adachi kiss him. It's easier this way. He just wants to be left alone now, wants Adachi to leave and hopes he'll do just that if Souji gives him what he wants. And he hates to admit it, but it feels good, too—sending an unwanted little jolt of excitement through his body.

Adachi keeps it short and sweet; he strokes Souji's cheek, rubs an earlobe between his fingers for a moment, before finishing the kiss with a silly little peck and backing off, giving a meek wave and taking his leave without another word.

The moment Souji hears the front door slide shut he lets out a huge burst of air, only now realizing he's been holding his breath for God knows how long. He sinks down on his couch while rubbing his face as if trying to wipe off any remaining traces of semen, and then just sits there and breathes for a long while, before getting up and going to the bathroom to take that shower.

ooo

Adachi never touches him again.

ooo

It takes months for the investigation team to put all the pieces together, but Souji isn't surprised with the result when they finally do; he's angry with himself he didn't figure it out earlier, but not surprised. Eventually he gets to see Adachi's true face, all masks shed, and it's ugly and twisted, and Souji wishes he could beat it to a bloody pulp. Handing Adachi over to the police isn't enough—Souji wants to make him pay.

But that's not how things work in this world and he swallows his rage without a word.

Months later he still wonders what it is about him that's so lewd, even though he knows it was probably just something Adachi said to fuck with his head, another one of the little games he proved to be so fond of. Still Souji can't shake the feeling he's doing something wrong. These days he keeps himself in even further check in the presence of strangers, men in particular, and he makes sure not to do anything that could be interpreted as an invitation.

Like smile.