Chapter Text
Tobirama Senju didn’t make it easy for Madara Uchiha to do anything but curse his name.
“Why do you have to disagree with every single sentence I make?” Madara glowered over the desk, close enough for Tobirama to get a hit of the smell of scorched earth and pine.
It had taken a while for Tobirama to get comfortable with looking at an Uchiha in the eyes, but now that they both had the shared goal of a thriving village, Tobirama had learned to weaponize eye contact when it came to Madara. Tobirama’s stare was level and stoic, unflinching at the non-zero chance that Madara would break their no-jutsu gentleman’s pact and throw him into some eternal genjutsu hell. It was a risk he wouldn’t dare take if it were not so wildly thrilling. So, he continued to poke the beast.
“Because every sentence that comes out of your defective mouth is flawed.”
Madara clenched his jaw so tight that he thought his teeth would crack. “God, I can’t fucking stand – I fucking hate – “ he took a palm off the desk and grabbed the collar of Tobirama’s shirt, dragging him close enough to feel his chakra jabbing at his face, “– fucking you!”
The younger man smirked. Madara’s grip tightened.
Despite Tobirama being well into adulthood, he was still a younger sibling and knew exactly how to rile up an eldest brother, whether it was his own or the Uchiha clan head.
“How can you hate fucking me if you’ve never tried?”
“That’s not what I meant!” The now sputtering man shoved the Senju hard enough to push his chair back.
“Case in point. Even you disagree with your words.”
Tobirama could’ve been merciful and taken his win right then and there. But then again, he had an exhausting day full of heated meetings and now Madara was here, in his office, pissing him the fuck off. So no, he was not going to let Madara off the hook without torturing him a little more. Mercy was his brother’s thing, anyway.
Tobirama cocked his head and looked at Madara teasingly through the corners of his eyes, “You’d love to fuck me if you could.”
Madara gawked the statement, eyes widening in bewilderment before narrowing in calculation. The first mention of hypothetical sex may have just been to provoke, but the second mention sounded like a provocation. The asshole was playing games with him, and Madara did not like to lose.
The older man filled the space between Tobirama and his desk. He leant in, face darkening like the clouds of an oncoming storm.
“Is that a challenge?”
The low half-whisper sent a chill down Tobirama’s spine, but the younger man remained otherwise collected and sat up, arms folded across his own chest. Pangs of desire shot down to his stomach as Madara’s intoxicating chakra blazed millimeters away from his face. He did his best to hide the physical pleasure he derived from taunting Madara, though he could only mask his expression and not his growing erection. Tobirama would rather die than admit that he had become almost addicted to the other man’s chakra, made even more electrifying when the Uchiha was on the precipice of bloodlust and murderous rage. It’s why he always picked on him and bickered until they were grappling on the floor of the Hokage’s office.
Tormenting Madara had become Tobirama’s new favorite hobby.
“Sex is simple enough. Not much of a challenge for a selfish lover.”
Madara’s mouth twitched into a half-snarl. Tobirama could not help but focus on the curled lips that were licked wet during the other man’s frenzy.
“Can’t even look me in the eyes after insulting my manhood? I would tear you apart,” Madara sneered, “You could never handle me.”
Unaware that his attention had wandered, Tobirama snapped his eyes up.
“I see the way you fuck me with those precious eyes of yours whenever you think nobody is looking,” he paused and reveled Madara’s flush of embarrassment – a silent admission of guilt. “Can the Uchiha get off on sight alone? Or are you afraid that I may be more than you can swallow?”
If Tobirama were a worse sensor, he may have thought he had gone too far when a rough hand wraps around his neck. If he were a worse sensor, he would’ve mistaken the lust to have been for blood rather than sex and would have missed the droplets of lecherous desire in the sea of rage. It only encouraged his bad behavior. He couldn’t hold back his smirk.
Madara did not let any signs of disquiet slip past his darkened demeanor.
“I can make you scream until your voice gives out. I will make you beg for more and more like the insatiable brat you are,” Madara’s fingers pressed against the other man’s quickening pulse of his carotid, “You, Tobirama Senju, could not handle me.”
The way Madara uttered his name through gritted teeth conjured up memories from war and the adrenaline rush alongside it, making Tobirama’s skin prick and heart race. The Senju tilted his head and leaned in close enough for Madara to feel the warmth of his breath.
“Prove it.”
It was permission enough for Madara to slide his hand from Tobirama’s neck to his jaw, forcing the younger man’s face up into a crashing of lips and tongue and teeth. The passion and force of the kiss preceded their reputations as two of the fiercest shinobi in the Land of Fire – no gentle lead up, no tease, just an onslaught of hunger and need to taste and bite and take and fight.
Tobirama drank Madara’s warm chakra as their lips enveloped each other in a way that could only be described as feral. The Uchiha’s chakra was like a strong mulled wine on a frigid day. Tobirama got drunk off it, got hard for it. Madara’s hands kept a steady pressure on the back of Tobirama’s head that prevented any attempt to escape the kiss. It didn’t matter, because Tobirama was exactly where he wanted to be.
Madara pulled back, eyes lidded and hazy with desire.
“You can’t hide from me, Senju,” he traced a finger over Tobirama’s jawline, “I’ve also noticed how your gaze, no matter how cold you try to make it, lingers on me a touch longer than it does everyone else.”
Tobirama wasn’t going to outright lie and say that he hadn’t undressed the man in his mind during countless monotonous meetings, but he also wasn’t going to hand over the satisfaction of admitting to it. He let out a defiant huff.
“Where’s that clever tongue of yours?” Madara asked while his thumb toyed with the other man’s swollen lower lip. “No matter,” he continued while prying open the stubborn jaw, “you won’t be able to say anything with a mouthful of cock.”
Tobirama pulled back as Madara undid his own pants enough to free his half-hard dick. The older man paused, breath bated in anticipation of being turned down.
“You and I both know that I have the superior physical stamina,” Tobirama smirked, “Can you keep up with me, old man?”
Madara let out a breath of relief, though it was laced with annoyance at Tobirama’s jab.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Senju, you’ll still be finishing first.”
Tobirama flashed a sly grin at the challenge before shooing away Madara’s hand to wrap his long, pale fingers around the man’s cock. As a water-based user and a highly sensitive one at that, Tobirama naturally salivated more than most. He plunged straight down, twisting his hand and sucking until Madara was fully hard. He was intent on eating him alive.
“Fuck, Tobirama,” Madara hissed.
Tobirama hummed in response before clashing the fat cock head with the back of his throat. It wasn’t easy, as Madara was as girthy as Tobirama had imagined he’d be during his late-night indulgences. His throat spasmed and gagged around the hot length, making Madara groan from the constriction.
The Uchiha looked down at the younger man’s clumped wet lashes. “Having a hard time taking me, Senju?” Despite his taunting, Madara knew that he’d have his own difficulties suppressing a premature orgasm.
Tobirama hollowed his cheeks and slowly worked his mouth back up to the rim of the head, swirling his tongue in a way that made Madara shoot his hand out and nearly scalp him. Once he released Madara from his lips, he tilted his head to showcase his tear-stained face. He wiped away the trickles of saliva and tears that tickled his neck.
“Oh, I’ve just barely started, Uchiha.” Tobirama flashed another devilish grin and opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out for more.
Madara uttered a curse and clenched his jaw. Tobirama’s refined features had become thoroughly wrecked, all red and covered in drool. There was no way he could say no to that pretty face begging to be stuffed with cock, his cock. The race for last place was no guaranteed victory.
Despite his body’s protest, his body’s innate unwillingness to choke on Madara, Tobirama wanted and could take more, so he did. Red eyes met black ones as he gave the tip of Madara’s cock a teasing kitten lick, drawing another curse out of the older man’s lips.
Madara released his hold on Tobirama’s hair in exchange for a grip on his throat. He pushed him back so that Tobirama sat straight up in his chair. He could feel the younger man gulp in anticipation as he repositioned himself to be behind him.
Madara leant down and let his breath tickle the other man’s ear. “Be a good boy for me, Tobirama, for once in your life.”
Tobirama sneered at the assertion that he had ever been anything other than exemplary, especially by Madara’s standards. Still, fucking him was an enormously stupid idea and sociopolitically suicidal. But Tobirama got a thrill from entering forbidden territory, and his brother’s best friend was as forbidden as it could get.
Madara felt the Senju’s thundering heart while his rough, bare hands explored the body that had always been used against him, never completely at his mercy as it was now. Hands snaked their way under Tobirama’s shirt, tugging it up until fingers were circling around pert nipples. Madara gave them a squeeze, eliciting an unintentional yelp from the now embarrassed man.
“So sensitive,” Madara murmured with his low, sultry voice – a shameful weakness of Tobirama’s. He continued to pleasurably torture the Senju while exploiting the man’s reaction to his words.
“I wonder what other pretty sounds I can pull out of that insolent mouth of yours.”
“You’re going to have to – fuck, Madara,” Tobirama gasped when a cold, spit-covered finger grazed over his nipple.
“That’s it. Good boy.”
Getting praised by Madara fucking Uchiha shouldn’t be as hot as it was but fuck, it was making Tobirama’s cock throb. When Tobirama reached down to relieve the tension, Madara snatched his wrist and stopped him.
“All your pleasure will come from me and me alone,” Madara growled.
The sudden hostility made Tobirama’s breath hitch. Madara’s other hand began lifting Tobirama’s shirt up and off and tossed it carelessly to the side in a way that would have initiated a verbal altercation, had Madara’s words not had Tobirama so hot and bothered. Instead, Tobirama settled his hands on the edges of his seat as he fought the desperation to touch himself.
Madara’s breath ghosted the back of Tobirama’s neck, sending a shudder down the younger man’s spine.
“I’ve waited so long to taste you,” Madara murmured. He dragged his tongue across the tender expanse where neck meets shoulder. “Tell me, what possessed you to give yourself to me?”
Tobirama tried to focus on the answer, but his cock was pulsating in response to Madara’s lips and tongue lapping up his skin and Madara’s hands wandering closer and closer to where Tobirama wanted – needed – them to be. It was impossible to think clearly.
Madara grew impatient with the silence. He needed to know why the strict, stubborn asshole broke the silent boundary between fighting and fucking. They both knew that on paper, it was a horrendous idea, being founders of a budding village and the two closest confidants to the god of shinobi.
Tobirama didn’t know exactly when, but after accepting that Madara truly wanted peace as much as he did, his habitual defensiveness around the Uchiha waned and gave way to the desire it had been shielding for who knows how long. It was mortifying that, out of all people, his dick got so hard for Madara fucking Uchiha. It drove him mad. Madara drove him mad. But Tobirama would rather pull his own teeth out than admit it out loud.
“I was – I was just curious.” Not a complete lie.
“Hm,” Madara huffed, unsatisfied with the reply but too enrapt in the minute twitches of muscles that responded to his touch, too eager to see what other suppressed tells of desire he could pull out. “Curious of what it’s like to be fucked into your rightful place?” His hands teasingly traced over the wet bulge under the younger man’s pants.
Tobirama snorted, covering up the sound of his nails scratching the underside of the seat. “At the pace you’re going, I might fall asleep before I can find out.”
Madara tutted. “Impatient brat,” he said as his hands slid back up Tobirama’s hips, then his waist, then over his nipples again before settling one hand on his throat, other hand forcing two digits between his soft lips.
“Take your pants off,” he commanded. Tobirama stripped off his remaining clothing while simultaneously sucking on the fingers.
Madara removed his soaked fingers from Tobirama’s mouth and gripped the man’s dripping cock.
“God, you’re so wet for me,” the older man purred. He peppered kisses along the side of Tobirama’s neck and shoulder, calloused hand pumping up and down at a languid pace. Tobirama breathed steadily through parted lips and tilted his head to expose more of his neck for Madara’s taking. Madara hummed in approval and, as a reward, quickened his strokes.
Tobirama’s breaths came out louder and faster. His eyes squeezed shut and his knuckles turned white. Madara shifted to the unmarred side of Tobirama’s neck and laid claim to it. He rubbed his thumb across the weeping slit of the pretty pink cock and twisted his palm, squeezing a touch tighter as he stroked the slick shaft. His other arm wrapped around to palm Tobirama’s balls, eliciting a gasp.
Tobirama bit his lower lip to stifle his reaction. Though he had moaned Madara’s name in his own private time, he found himself unexpectedly bashful now that his fantasy was playing out.
“Don’t be shy. Let me hear you,” Madara encouraged, as if he could hear the Senju’s inner turbulence. Aside for the air that passed through his flared nostrils, Tobirama remained silent. This was supposed to be a challenge, after all.
Parrying the resistance, Madara plunged his teeth into the soft flesh of Tobirama’s neck, forcing out a surprised cry. Exploiting the opening, Madara extended a finger to rub Tobirama’s perineum while massaging his balls. Tobirama couldn’t hold back his moans.
Madara varied the pressure of his finger and grip, reveling in the way that the man squirmed and bucked at his touch. He dipped his finger lower, stopping at the edge of the pulsating ring of flesh, and then repositioned his hands to caress Tobirama’s quivering thighs.
Tobirama released his death grip on his chair and shot a hand up to grab a mass of unruly blackhair.
“Madara,” Tobirama hissed.
Madara’s lips curled into the shit-eating grin that usually accompanied Tobirama’s disapproval. It wasn’t Madara’s fault that he had developed an insatiable itch for Tobirama’s chakra. It sharpened and dragged across Madara’s own skin whenever the younger man became irritated. It became a reward after every argument, and it was only natural that Madara had become wired to seek it out.
“What is it?” Madara hummed in feigned ignorance. His hands wandered closer to Tobirama’s groin yet never dared return to the man’s throbbing cock. “I’m listening.”
Refusing to play into Madara’s game, Tobirama remained closemouthed and allowed his hand to fall from the coarse tresses. He tried to meditate and outlast the other man’s patience. Both sat in silence for a moment, waiting for the other to break.
Madara faked a sigh. “I suppose your ‘curiosity’ has been sated. I’ll be taking my leave now.” He rose, knees stiff and surely bruised after kneeling on the floor for so long. He didn’t bother stuffing his own painfully hard cock into his pants – the subtle twitch of Tobirama’s index finger signaled that he was not, in fact, free to go.
Before the Uchiha could regain full blood circulation in his legs, Tobirama had risen from his seat and snatched the front of Madara’s shirt. Tobirama’s red eyes burned with a lustful rage that, had he been anyone other than Madara Uchiha, would have triggered every nerve in his body to get away. Instead, it made him want to get even closer and press himself against the pale bare skin. Tobirama felt the same, proving such by yanking up the older man’s shirt up and off and leaning in to land an aggressive and sloppy open-mouthed kiss. Madara divested his pants and kicked away the chair between them, sending it flying toward a wall with a smash. Tobirama pulled back, annoyed.
“What the hell,” he complained. It was so like Madara to break perfectly good furniture as foreplay.
Madara shoved himself against Tobirama’s toned body. “I’ll get you a new one,” he breathed before continuing their searing kiss. Whatever lie he would tell Hashirama as to why his baby brother’s chair needed replacing could be figured out later. Right now, he was too busy pushing said brother back and up onto his desk. While their tongues greedily slid against each other, Madara settled himself in between Tobirama’s thighs and pressed their cocks together. He grinded into him teasingly, precum mixing and smearing all over each other’s lengths. He convinced himself that it was to further torment the other man rather than stave off his own release but god, it took an incredible amount of self-control when Tobirama was now shamelessly moaning into his mouth and squeezing his ass.
Tobirama let go of the cheek and blindly reached out to open a desk drawer. Madara opened his eyes to look at what could be more important than massaging his ass.
The fucker was putting away papers while they were rubbing dicks and deep in each other’s mouths.
Madara pulled back with a chastise on his lips, but before he could get a word out, a bottle of healing oil pressed into his palm.
Oh?
Oh.
Tobirama scooted back on the cleared table and leaned back to rest on his elbows. His heels rested on the edge of the desk, knees up and legs parted wide. Despite the boldness of the lewd display, the younger man’s face flushed and turned to the side in an attempt to conceal his reddened cheeks.
Madara had to suppress the agonizing urge to turn on his sharingan, lest he overstep and drive Tobirama away. The Uchiha didn’t want to seem too excited, nor did he want to be seen as some pervert that was going to get off to the permanent photographic memory of Tobirama Senju baring his beautiful naked body for Madara’s taking.
Tobirama’s pale skin lacked the scars that littered across Madara’s own flesh, a testament to his talent for healing. His near-translucent pubic hair was neatly trimmed and allowed for an unhindered view of the younger man’s most private and vulnerable region, hidden away for all but the most intimate partners to see. Judging by sight alone, one would guess that Tobirama was a high-class whore, made to be fucked and used for none other than the head of a powerful clan, for none other than Madara himself. But Madara knew that his body was sharpened not for vanity, but as a weapon, and that Tobirama could be as deadly as his brother allowed him to be. Had he not been muzzled by Hashirama, only one of them would be alive right now. It made the circumstance more illicit and even more seductive.
Looking at him, splayed out on the desk and disarmed in the throes of desire, felt the same as gazing down at the village from atop the cliffside. Tobirama was breathtaking. Tobirama was all his.
“Are you broken, Uchiha? Are you just going to stand there all day?” Tobirama’s voice was steady, but the tremor of his chakra betrayed him.
“Intolerant urchin.”
Obliging him, Madara poured out a generous amount of oil and watched Tobirama’s cock twitch from the cold liquid. He used flattened palms to not only slick up Tobirama’s cock and hole, but also the surrounding muscles of his thighs and abdomen. He massaged the tense flesh, again neglecting the area where Tobirama was aching for him to be.
“Can you hurry – ah!” Tobirama yelped as two thick fingers were unceremoniously shoved into his asshole.
“Are you usually this mouthy with your lovers,” Madara began, bending his knuckles at the opening, “or are you just that eager to take me?”
“Fuck you,” Tobirama hissed between ragged breaths.
“I’m getting to it.”
He picked up the pace and used his free hand to stroke Tobirama’s slick cock.
“You know –”
Madara prattled on, coaxing out the tumultuous, stormy chakra that he thirsted for.
“– patience is a virtue. But –”
A twist of the wrist made Tobirama buck into his hand.
“– it’s not that a brat like you would care to develop such a skill.”
A brush of a thumb over the frenulum made Tobirama clench around Madara’s fingers.
“Shut up,” Tobirama snapped before burying his reddened face into the crook of his elbow. His other hand raised above his head to grip the edge of the desk.
Madara scissored his fingers in reprimand, eliciting a muffled, throaty groan. That wouldn’t do. No, Madara wanted more.
“Let me hear you,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.
Tobirama shook his head, eyes shut, looking like a defiant child. Madara tsked.
“I said,” he crooked his fingers to exploit his prostate, “let me hear you.”
Tobirama cried out. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes.
“Good boy,” Madara cooed as he slid in a third finger, easing it in more gently as a reward for Tobirama’s obedience.
“You’re so fucking tight,” Madara purred, now relentless in his attacks on Tobirama’s sweet spot, who was panting and sweating and writhing beneath him. Tobirama’s undoing drove Madara mad with power and want. Having the arrogant Senju stripped of any dignity before him was robbing him of his self-control, and he could barely deny his own feral need to drive his cock into Tobirama’s tight asshole, not when the man was completely at his mercy.
Between Tobirama’s needy gasps and over the slick sounds of Madara’s fingers and hand ruthlessly fucking him, the younger man opened his watery eyes and managed to growl, “Fuck me already.”
Though that was Madara’s current dying wish, the Uchiha clan head wasn’t one to be ordered around. He leaned over the man, long hair brushing over the taut abdomen.
“Beg for it.”
Tobirama grabbed a fistful of Madara’s hair and pulled him in, red eyes sharpened with rebellion. He opened his mouth to retort, but whatever words he had were shoved aside when Madara’s thumb pressed into the slit of Tobirama’s cock head. The Senju shouted and released his grip on Madara’s hair in exchange for digging his nails into the wooden desk, leaving drag marks that he would have to form an excuse for later.
Tobirama knew that his defenses were wearing thin. Madara’s fingers dancing inside of him, hand sliding up and down and twisting around his sensitive cock, their sweaty bodies sliding against each other. He wouldn’t last long.
“Fuck – ah – me,” Tobirama said through gritted teeth.
“Not good enough,” Madara said as he probed Tobirama’s prostate once again.
“Fuck you,” the younger man spat, though with much less venom than intended.
Madara tutted before gliding his thumb over Tobirama’s perineum.
“Oh god – fuck – please,” he gasped.
Madara increased the pressure of his thumb as his other fingers pushed threateningly close to Tobirama’s prostate. “Please what?”
“Shit, Madara. Please fuck me. Please, Madara.”
Madara hummed in satisfaction. He withdrew his hand and fingers, Tobirama groaning at the loss. Madara gripped the younger man’s hips and pulled him to the edge of the desk. Madara took in the sight of the man before him, whose face was strewn with tears and glistening chest heaving. Any traces of dignity went up in smoke when Tobirama caved into his desire to be taken by his lifelong enemy.
Madara’s breath wavered as he lined up his own dripping cock with pretty pink hole that he had just abused.
“Fuck,” he groaned as he pressed into the tight, wet asshole. Tobirama gasped at the entry, breathing through the glacial pace at which Madara was pushing into him. Madara couldn’t help but exploit the Senju’s meticulous grooming habits. He was mesmerized by the unencumbered view of Tobirama’s ass stretching to take him, popping over the rim of his cock, and gripping his shaft as he slid down to the hilt. Pulling out was just as entrancing. If Madara had less self control, he would’ve came from the sight of Tobirama’s rim hugging his cock, stretching out to hold onto the withdrawing length. It was a peek into the divine, and Madara knew he was not yet worthy of storing it away with his sharingan.
Tobirama repositioned his legs, swinging one up over Madara’s shoulder and the other out for the older man to hold and support. He tugged the older man’s body closer, caging him in until Madara delivered more.
“Slow down,” Madara ordered, relieved that his tone came out more commanding than it did begging.
Tobirama was about to say something smart in return, but an experimental thrust made him choke on his words. Another thrust. Tobirama let out a low moan when Madara’s hand started pumping his length.
“God, Tobirama, you feel so good – “
The thrusts and stroking got faster. The sounds coming from Tobirama’s mouth become needier and desperate.
“It’s like you were made for me – “
Tobirama’s hand wrapped around Madara’s in a weak attempt to stave off his climax, but the older man did not yield. Their hands remained coupled, gliding over Tobirama’s slick, throbbing cock.
“It’s like you were made to take me.”
And Tobirama was doing just that, taking the thick, hot cock befitting of a powerful clan head and oh god was he stretching him out, filling him up, making his hole burn with bliss.
Typically, Madara couldn’t speak two sentences before Tobirama interjected, and if he ever did manage to finish an entire counter argument, it meant that the other man wasn’t listening. Now, however, Tobirama was hanging on every word as Madara drilled into him.
Madara could tell that Tobirama was close by the way his back arched and his moans and panting got faster and louder. Though Tobirama may have had more stamina than Madara, Madara far outclassed him when it came to patience.
The Uchiha slowed to a halt and dragged his cock fully out. Tobirama looked up, tears falling down the sides of his frustrated face. Madara kissed the inside of Tobirama’s raised leg before unhooking it off his shoulder. He pressed both of Tobirama’s knees down onto the desk so that the man was open wide for him.
“I’ll end you if you don’t – “ Tobirama paused, regretful that he started a sentence that he didn’t want to finish.
Madara’s smug face hid the fact that his body was screaming for his own release. “If I don’t what?”
Tobirama bit his lip and swallowed his remaining shred of pride. “If you don’t fuck me until I cum.”
“Though I’d love to see you try to kill me – “ Madara said as he realigned himself up with Tobirama’s hole “ – I’d much rather see you come apart under me.”
The first thrust sent a flash of electricity through Tobirama’s spine. He titled his head back, eyes shut, and a sharp cry escaped from his parted lips.
Tobirama verbally confirmed that the Uchiha had struck his target.
“Right there – oh fuck – Madara.”
The sound of his name being whined by his former enemy pushed him close to the edge. Tobirama was there alongside him, back arching and muscles tensing as his prostate was nailed into by the blunt head of Madara’s thick cock. Tobirama’s whines became loud, frantic cries that he tried to muffle by placing his hand over his mouth.
“No, I want to hear you cum,” Madara demanded. He ripped Tobirama’s hand away and interlaced their fingers. Madara’s other hand gripped the Senju’s bobbing cock and adopted a pace that matched his brutal thrusting.
Madara’s words came out low and breathy. “Can I –“
“Yes, yes, please, yes,” Tobirama begged, mind and body too shrouded in Madara to save face.
Tobirama was so vulnerable. So pliant. So beautiful. All for Madara. Just for Madara. Because of Madara.
“Cum for me, Tobirama.”
Tobirama’s convulsing sent Madara over the edge. Tobirama’s strong hand gripped Madara’s so tightly that he swore he would’ve heard his bones crack if it were not lost in Tobirama’s cry. The younger man released over himself and Madara’s hand.
So the rumor that water-based users spilled more than others was true, after all.
Madara inadvertently held his breath as he rode through his own orgasm and bellowed out a loud, shaky moan at the exhale. He would have been embarrassed had it not been for Tobirama’s surging chakra that crashed into him in a way that made his previous lovers seem like light drizzles.
Tobirama was drowning him, pulling him into a riptide of ecstasy that Madara did not – could not – fight against. Once the waters calmed and Madara could surface for air, he had realized that his control over his sharingan had slipped.
Tobirama’s own red eyes were wide in surprise, though he remained unmoving aside from the heaving of his chest. Madara pulled out, causing the younger man to shudder with over-sensitization.
“I – I’m sorry,” Madara muttered, face heating up and eyes returning to black, “that hasn’t happened to me since I was a teenager and I – uh – didn’t mean to –”
He wanted to die right then and there and may as well could have, had Tobirama not offered equally sheepish assurance.
His voice shook through the last of the aftershocks. “It’s okay, I – um – it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
Neither man was talented when it came to apologies and comfort, so they shifted uncomfortably in silence, avoiding each other’s gaze.
Tobirama was first to break the awkward tension. He propped himself up on his elbows. “Are you alright?” He made brief eye contact before turning his head to the side and clearing his throat.
“Yes, I’m – I’m okay,” Madara replied, equally as flustered, “Are you alright?”
“Of course. Yeah. Yes,” he affirmed.
“Um,” Madara stared at a suddenly interesting spot in the corner of the room, “I can clean up.”
Tobirama busied his own eyes by scanning the mess that they had made. “It’s okay, I can – I’ll do it in the morning.”
Another excruciatingly long stint of silence.
“Well, um, I’ll be going, then. See you tomorrow,” Tobirama said.
“Sure, okay. See you tomorrow.”
“Right.” Tobirama cleared his throat again before making a sign and disappearing out of the room.
Now alone, Madara was painfully aware of his own nakedness. He gathered his clothing and dressed himself before collecting Tobirama’s clothing and neatly folding it, placing it on the side of his desk. Despite the Senju’s offer to clean, Madara fetched some damp rags and wiped down the now-scratched up desk. He gathered up the pieces of the chair he had broken and replaced it with the one from his own office, cursing the conversation with Hashirama that had not yet occurred.
Once everything was back in its place, Madara headed for home, eyes cast down at the ground the entire time. He took the long way around to avoid his clansmen that were outside and enjoying the cool evening right before the sun retired for the day. Caught up in his own rumination, Madara didn’t notice that he was not alone when he opened his door.
“Where is he?”
Madara snapped into attention, eyes turning red to mimic the ones peering at him from an archway.
“Izuna!” he nearly choked, “You’re back early.”
His younger sibling didn’t acknowledge the welcome. “Where is he?” he reiterated.
Madara knitted his brows. “Where is who?”
“Tobirama! That icy motherfucker!” Izuna cried out, jumping away from the wall that he was half-hidden behind.
Madara, confused and heart rate rising, stared back. “Huh?”
“I can smell that cold son of a bitch a mile away,” Izuna huffed. He scanned the room and reached his sensing out to the perimeter of the home.
Madara inwardly cursed, knowing that he had to de-escalate the situation before his brother homed in on him and discovered the truth, the truth that he had fucked –
“Did you two fight? You reek of him."
Goddammit.
“Izuna,” Madara groaned.
The younger man strode across the room and planted himself in front of Madara before looking him up and down, searching for any signs of foul play. Madara thanked his modest clothing for hiding any scratches Tobirama had carved into his flesh.
“As if that brat could land a blow on me.”
Oh, he blew him alright.
Izuna wrinkled his nose and turned Madara around to examine his backside.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. Now please,” Madara said as he plucked himself from his brother’s scrutiny, “it has been a hell of a day, and I wish for nothing more than a chance to relax before the sun rises. Now, if you will excuse me, I will be going to take a long soak. And turn off your sharingan. You’ll go blind,” he chastised.
Izuna pouted. “Scrub hard. You stink.”
Madara ruffled his little brother’s hair, knowing that Tobirama’s chakra was pleasantly minty, much to his sibling’s annoyance.
“Tell me about your mission tomorrow,” Madara smiled, pinching his grimacing brother’s cheek.
“Tell me what he did to you,” he retorted.
Madara turned to hide the rising blush on his face and shuffled over to his quarters. He waved Izuna off and disappeared behind his bedroom door before his thundering heart gave him away.
He closed his eyes and sighed.
Little brothers will be the death of him.