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raendown · 5 years

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Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 8688 Chapter: 34/42 Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

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Chapter 34

“Was it necessary to send us off with a two hour breakfast?” Madara rolled his neck, looking for the angle to crack it so he could finally be free of the crick that had been bothering him for the past forty minutes. At his side Tobirama scoffed.

“After the consistent excess of the last seven days do you really need to ask that question?”

“I suppose not. It was all just so…so…”

“Excessive.”

“Yes!” Madara paused to sigh with relief when his neck finally cracked and then immediately took up the rant again. “I mean, sure he’s an important man. In a way. But he would probably be a lot more useful if he actually did something with his time other than pander to his own entertainment and turn every occasion in to a massive party!”

Tobirama hummed. “When I was last in the city he had no time for celebration because he was tending to important matters. I think perhaps he simply saw an opportunity. From what I heard things have only just settled down after the attempted coup, the last of the conspirators have seen their trials, so it’s possible he was using the excuse of celebrating our good deeds as a chance to bring the morale back up and reinvent the image of his reign. If the people remain unhappy and tense that can only create a perfect breeding ground for more discontent.”

“You know, I hate it when you’re logical.”

“I did know that.”

Madara harrumphed and quickened his pace to pull ahead as a sign of his own discontent. How dare Tobirama disprove his irritation with logical reasoning and simple deductions? Of course he couldn’t stay mad for long when Tobirama caught up and smoothly wove their fingers together in a firm grip. The man really did know his weaknesses.

Pretending to be grumpy and ignoring his husband was supposed to be a punishment for Tobirama and yet as the silence continued Madara discovered that it was really just as terrible for him. Silence gave room for all the thoughts he’d been trying to keep at the back of his mind to rush forward and make themselves known all over again. Naughty thoughts. Thoughts that definitely did not make continuing to walk any easier. He’d been trying not to let his mind travel down this path since they woke up and for this very reason.

As a grown man several years past when shinobi were considered to reach adulthood he knew it was just a little ridiculous to still be nervous about the idea of intimacy. He knew that not everyone from his clan actually followed the traditions as strictly as he did, people like Susumu-sensei who cared very little for whether or not they ever fell in love and gave their bodies away whenever they felt the desire to do so. With the way the Senju were raised he would not be surprised if there were still a part of Tobirama that thought he was being completely ridiculous holding out for such a subjective landmark as knowing for sure that he was in love. And yet here he was walking in silence and knowing that he was ready but also mentally spinning in circles with anxiety. Feeling anxious about this felt a little stupid, admittedly. Sex was supposed to feel good but even if it didn’t it wasn’t like he’d never felt pain before. Madara wasn’t really sure what precisely was making him nervous, actually, which only served to make him feel even more stupid.

Whatever stupid catch his brain kept stumbling on he was determined not to let it have any effect. He’d known for a while now that he desired his husband. No stupid overemotional thoughts should have the power to stop him from experiencing those things if he wanted to.

But kami forbid Tobirama notice. Madara wasn’t sure he would outlive the embarrassment of Tobirama having to console him again for not being ready. He was a grown ass adult and he did not need anyone to hold his hand when he was nervous like a small child afraid of the dark. It was nice but he didn’t need it. Especially not because every time he was allowed a glimpse behind his husband’s barriers Madara couldn’t help but feel a wave of guilt for how badly he could tell the man wanted to take the next step between them. At some point he really needed to find a way to show his gratitude for Tobirama’s patience and accommodation as they danced around each other trying to navigate the maze of their own emotions.

Eventually the silence grew overwhelming and Madara struck up a conversation on the first thing to cross his mind, blurting it out with little thought just to distract himself from the stupidity he had already gone over in his own mind a hundred times and more.

“You look a lot better now than you did a few months ago.” It took a great deal of effort not to shrink with regret as soon as the words were out of his mouth but somehow he managed to stand strong under the baffled look Tobirama turned to give him, clearly unsure if he should be insulted or not.

“I think I need a little more context on that statement.”

“You just look healthier I mean. Because you’re sleeping properly and you’re not skipping breakfast to avoid me. And…I’m glad.”

“Oh.” Tobirama paused, probably trying to think of how to respond to that. “Did I really look all that bad?”

Angling his steps to walk a little closer, Madara pressed their shoulders together in an approximation of a hug. “Sometimes you looked like you were going to fall apart in a strong breeze. Your eyes didn’t just have bags, they had entire suitcases. I’m sorry that I turned you in to that.”

“The misunderstandings between us had fault on both sides,” Tobirama assured him.

“Did they though? You thought you already knew me after writing all those letters. There’s no way you could have known it wasn’t me answering them.”

“And there is no way you could have known I ever wrote them in the first place. Looking back, I should not have been so aggressive in my approach. Neither of us reacted very well to each other that night but we’re happy now and that’s more important, yes?”

Madara looked away to hide his smile. “I suppose I could be considered happy.”

“Oh is that how it is?”

When he peeked back over Tobirama was smiling too with a light in his eyes that Madara had gotten to know quite well. His husband was indeed happy and there was a domestic sort of joy in knowing he was the cause of it that made everything inside him settle quite suddenly. All of the nerves that had been bothering him hung suspended as he wondered why he was wasting the effort to worry when Tobirama had proven time and time again that he would always be kind and caring. The reserved front he presented to the rest of the world was just that: a front. In private he was so much more. He was everything Madara had ever dreamed of.

The rest of their day didn’t feel quite as nerve-wracking as the beginning had. Even the casual unhurried pace they travelled at was able to keep him in a calm, contented mood as they made their way towards home. Since they weren’t rushing the journey would be stretched out over two days again so they made camp that night by the edge of a small lake from which Tobirama caught several fish for their dinner. After spending a week in a massive bed that could have fit three other couples on the mattress with them he almost expected the limited space of their tent to feel a little claustrophobic but once they bedded down he realized that it made very little different since they slept curled together anyway.

Passing through the village gates after the second day of travel was done with very little fanfare, the gate guards waving them in after a brief chakra scan to ensure their identities. They were still proudly expressing their satisfaction with the improvements in village security when they passed under a second set of gates marking the entrance to the Uchiha district and were nearly mowed down by a relatively small body. Madara watched with disgustingly sappy thoughts as Tobirama allowed Kagami to practically crawl all over him in greeting after being apart for more than a week.

“Where’s my hello?” he demanded after the initial happy screeching had passed.

“Hi!” Kagami smiled at him and then immediately turned back to his teacher, who was now shaking lightly with suppressed laughter. “I’m glad you’re back sensei! Are you going to leave again soon? Please don’t! When can we train again? I promise I did all my exercises every day while you were gone!”

Neither of them could get much of a word in edgewise as he prattled on, recounting in almost painful detail all the progress he’d made on one of the simple chakra exercises Tobirama had been teaching him. Admittedly his husband did look fairly impressed, deeply engaged in just a few sentences, so even though it chafed a little Madara very carefully stayed quiet and allowed the two of them to reconnect.

One might think he wouldn’t be quite so protective of Tobirama’s time after just spending more than a week together all day every day but for the most part those days had been filled with social events and attending scheduled performances where they were required to sit prominently as guests of honor. Having the Daimyo’s regard should not be this troublesome. Now that they were home he’d been hoping they could at least enjoy the rest of the day with just each other, no interruptions and no forced socialization, but it seemed his dreams were not to be. Kagami followed them all the way home and invited himself inside to continue chattering away as Tobirama puttered around the kitchen to whip them all up a very late lunch.

It wasn’t until he very gently mentioned that the two of them needed to unpack that the boy seemed to talk himself out but even then he extracted several promises before he left for Tobirama to give up his lunch hour the next day so the two of them could meet at their favorite training grounds. The sound of his little legs stumbling down the porch steps faltered for a few moments only to be followed with the impact of shoes against dirt belying the leap he must have taken, bounding everywhere as he was wont to do. In his wake Tobirama stood in the middle of their living room holding his travel bag and sighed almost wistfully.

“He’s getting so big.”

“As long as he stays shorter than me I’ll be happy,” Madara grumbled, turning away to head for the laundry room. The sound of Tobirama chuckling followed him down the hall.

“Most of your clansmen tend around the same height as you but at the rate he’s sprouting up I don’t know if you can count on that.”

Throwing his pack down so he could tear it open in search of all the dirty laundry he had accrued, Madara harrumphed, repeating the sound louder when he stood up to feel a hand slipping around his waist. “Growth. What a ridiculous notion. All children should stay small.”

“Smaller than you, you mean?”

“Yes!” Tossing his clothes in the right baskets was a little awkward while being held against another solid body but he didn’t really want to pull away so he made it work. “They stay small forever, I stay young forever, all the elders can kick the bucket because they’re nosey old coots with outdated ideas, and everyone gets to be happy.”

Tobirama pressed a quick smooch to the side of his head. “It sounds like the perfect world.”

Choosing to ignore the dry tone those words had been delivered in, Madara nodded magnanimously and waited until Tobirama released him to sort out his own laundry. Then he gathered up the rest of his things and made his way upstairs to sort them out. Nothing had ever been quite as relieving as walking in to his own bedroom knowing that everything in this room belonged only to them and no one would ever dare to disturb them here. It was like walking in to a haven, an oasis, a pocket of calm removed from the rest of the world. The moment he was inside all plans of unpacking flew out the window. Madara forced himself to at least set his bag down against the dresser before slipping away to the bathroom to rinse of his hands and face.

Then he returned to the bedroom, shed his outer layers, and let his body collapse across the familiar surface of their mattress just as Tobirama walked through the door behind him.

“Someone is happy to be home,” his husband noted and Madara let out a quiet purr. “Not even going to finish sorting your things?”

“It can wait,” he murmured.

“Your things can wait, perhaps, but it will drive me insane if I don’t unpack my own.”

Listening to the sounds of the other man rummaging around the room, just the quiet domestic sounds of everyday life, somehow worked as the most soothing lullaby. Madara drifted off before he even realized what was happening, startling awake from his impromptu power nap perhaps ten minutes later when Tobirama shut the door to the bathroom. A moment later there came the sounds of the shower running and he smiled. He was not the only fastidious one between them.

Now that he’d had his little moment of lethargy he felt just refreshed enough to sit up and stare consideringly at where he’d dropped his possessions. Should he unpack? Tobirama had said it would bother him not to unpack his own things but he hadn’t said anything about Madara's. At the very least he should probably move his bag so it was a little less in the direct path of where either of them would be walking. Being someone who tended towards clumsiness in the mornings, he could testify that the less tripping hazards present the better.

A dissatisfied groan rumbled up in his throat as he forced himself to swing him legs out and stand up slowly. Standing up was so much worse when he could have been lying down. A few more dissatisfied rumblings escaped him as he snatched up the pack and poked his nose in, trying to decide if he had the energy to sort through the contents. He decided no. The canvas made a very light thump when it landed in the corner and the sound was further muted by the sound of footsteps coming back in to the room. Either Tobirama was just that tired, dragging his feet along the carpet, or he was putting in a conscious effort to make sound when he walked so neither of them startled the other.

It was still a little surprising to feel soft lips pressing against the back of his shoulder, pale skin flashing in his peripherals as Tobirama brought one hand up to push the giant mass of Madara's hair aside so he could leave a row of kisses down the back of his neck as well.

“Welcome home,” he said and Madara furrowed his brows in confusion.

“You came home with me.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t give you a proper welcome.”

It took a few moments of thinking for him to read between the lines, distracted as he was with the gentle affections. When he realized what the other meant he flushed a little. Partly with embarrassment for being so slow and partly with a shameful sort of eagerness. Maybe he should have showered too.

“Go on then,” he breathed. “Show me what you think a proper welcome home entails.”

Tobirama wasted no time pulling him around to face each other and Madara barely had a chance to register the almost serious expression before he was swept away with a deep kiss that gave him a new understanding of that old phrase about floating on nine clouds or something. Already a genius at many things, it was almost unfair that he should be so good at this too and yet Madara could not find any desire inside him to complain. He was the one that benefitted the most after all.

Strong hands framed his hips in a tight grip but they did not linger for very long. Soon they were travelling upwards, skimming along his sides in a touch that somehow felt almost lewd despite there still being layers of clothing between them, dipping inwards to caress his chest before sliding up his vulnerable neck to bury themselves deep in the mess of his hair. When Tobirama gripping two handfuls tightly Madara whimpered at the sensation. He’d never thought having his hair pulled would actually be a pleasant experience but he wasn’t exactly upset to be proven wrong on the point. If Tobirama wanted to prove him wrong on anything in the bedroom he couldn’t say he would ever be upset about it when the results were this good.

At some point he realized that he was doing little more than standing still and allowing himself to be pawed at by the admittedly welcome beast in front of him. What exactly he should be doing was difficult to figure out with such a pleasant distraction taking up most of his cognitive processes but eventually he muddled his way in to a decision that maybe wrapping his arms around the strong shoulders before him would be nice. That was simple enough. Bringing his hands in to proximity with all that pale soft hair made him wonder if Tobirama would make the same noises as him to have the strands gently tugged on.

He did.

Such a delicious discovery was enough to keep his attention riveted further, enough distraction that he barely noticed the shuffle of their feet as he was led slowly backwards until he was caught between the solid body in front and a tall dresser behind. It was not a trap he was upset to find himself in. Not even when those clever fingers stopped tugging senseless patterns in the back of his head to slide down instead and pull inquisitively at the knot of his obi. All he could do was pull Tobirama in a little closer and tilt his head the way his husband did sometimes to deepen their kiss, satisfied to earn himself a quiet groan of appreciation.

What finally caught his attention and brought him back out of the building haze was the sensation of cool air against his chest when the panels of his shirt were tugged a few inches apart. His eyes fluttered open to find Tobirama watching him with a very careful expression, something almost reserved in his eyes caging in the heat Madara could see just waiting to pounce. For a moment he couldn’t imagine what would make such a confident man hesitate at a time like this. Then he scoffed.

“If I haven’t stopped you yet then I think it’s safe to say I’m fine with this.”

“You’re sure?”

“Stop asking me if I’m sure,” Madara growled, “and do something. I’m not the one that knows what he’s doing here, you’re sort of the one in charge.”

He hadn’t intended for his words to be sexy in any way, had been trying to cover up any lingering hints of the last of his insecurities, but he realized what they might have sounded like only when Tobirama’s eyes widened and the cage around his obvious desires fell away with one heated look.

“If I’d known that’s how you felt about it…”

With a wicked grin he dropped his gaze to trace the red spreading out across Madara's cheeks. Which, of course, only made the blush darken.

Flustered, Madara did the only thing he could think of to prove that he was completely and totally not at all in any way whatsoever embarrassed by what was happening. A quiet snarl of determination echoed through his teeth as he reached down to fumble some more with the knot in his obi, a little too tight after getting dressed in the limited space of their shared tent that morning. He continued to struggle with uncharacteristically clumsy fingers until another pale set laid themselves over his own.

“May I?” Tobirama asked and he swallowed against a lump in his throat.

“If you want to.” He couldn’t think of a good way to say the idea of Tobirama undressing him was incredibly erotic and he had no problems indulging in one of the most common fantasies he had been able to cobble together with his lack of experience and vivid imagination.

Yet somehow in all of his imaginings he had apparently been forgetting one key detail that ramped up the heat exponentially. Those eyes. Keeping still was difficult when he found himself equally caught up in the feathery touches of clothing sliding away from his body and the heat of those pretty red eyes increasing with every inch of skin revealed. Madara had expected to feel exposed, expected he would need to fight off the instinctive urge to cover himself up. He did not expect how feeling the weight of that hot gaze made him want to puff out his chest and preen like a bird fluffing out its feathers for display. Feeling so desirable gave him the confidence to reach out and slip his fingers in to his husband’s clothing so they were undressing each other at the same time.

When he stood bare in nothing but his fundoshi and a puddle of cloth at his feet Madara easily gave in to the tug on his hands drawing him over towards the bed, though he did frown petulantly at having his work interrupted. Tobirama was still wearing trousers. By the light pressure on his shoulder he could tell his partner was trying to topple him backwards but he resisted and reached instead for the ties he was still trying to unknot. For a moment he was distracted by a hot flash of triumph for being allowed to do as he wanted with the other man’s body.

Then the ties came undone and Tobirama’s pants slithered down his body to tangle around his ankles and Madara's eyes were, surprisingly, drawn lower than the naughty bits he thought he would be staring at. His gaze was instead caught on the ring of thick pink scar tissue around mid-thigh on the leg to his right.

“Ah,” Tobirama mumbled in an offhanded fashion. “That would be from one of the more violent laboratory accidents before we improved safety measures. I did say we got the leg reattached just fine.”

“Gods above,” Madara swore under his breath and sat heavily on the edge of the mattress.

Slipping a hand underneath his chin, Tobirama lifted his face up so their eyes could meet. “Does it bother you?”

“The idea of losing you to your own enthusiastic stupidity? Yes. A bit of scarring? Not in the least.”

“Understandable. Well then, allow me to distract you from such thoughts.”

Grinning suddenly in a way that reminded Madara of a hungry beast, Tobirama freed himself from the pool of his own clothing with a couple of swift, elegant motions then reached down to take Madara's hands in his own. He drew them to either side of his fundoshi with one eyebrow lifted in question but left the option of what to do from there to Madara, busying himself with combing his fingers through the long mane of dark hair that always seemed to fascinate him.

It took a few moments to frantically gather his courage but eventually Madara was able to convince his trembling digits to pull at the twisted fabric before him. Their position, he realized only as he pulled, was much more suggestive than he was sure Tobirama had intended. With him seated and the other still standing his face was at the perfect level to stare as a long pale cock was revealed to hang full and heavy between them only a few inches from his startled gaze. Despite many visits to different public onsen and bathhouses he’d never actually taken the time to be so rude as to stare at another man’s genitals. The only frame of reference he had was his own body. As far as cocks go he supposed there wasn’t anything too different between them, they were both the same general shape with small differences in length or girth, so he wasn’t entirely sure what made his mouth water as he continued to stare.

His staring must have gone on for too long and he only stopped when a low rumbling chuckle jerked him back to reality, Tobirama bending down to kiss him soundly. When his husband pulled away Madara flushed deeply.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“You are more than free to appreciate me with that expression any time you like, anata.”

“Oh gods…” Madara covered his face with both hands, mortified, too scared to ask what sort of embarrassing look he’d been wearing just now.

He ignored the swish of footsteps across their carpeted floor, grateful that Tobirama was making the effort to make noise but content to stay hidden in his little pocket of shame until the footsteps returned and he squawked indignantly to be pushed down on the mattress. Tobirama laughed unrepentantly but was at least polite enough to wait for Madara to scramble back a little further before crawling up in to the bed himself.

And he did not stop crawling in a deliciously predatory way until he had fit himself right between Madara's legs, hovering over him with both arms holding his weight to either side of Madara's head and hot eyes tracing lines across the willing sacrifice underneath him.

“You would not believe,” he whispered, “how badly I have wanted this.” Something in the way he spoke gave the impression that he wasn’t only talking about sex but reading between the lines would have to wait for a day when Madara was not entirely focused on his need for discovery, the all-consuming heat building inside him that, between them, only Tobirama would know how to sate.

“Maybe I wouldn’t. But you can have it now.”

“I want all of you, anata. Every part of you. Every inch and every thought and every beat of your heart; I want all of it to belong to me.”

Struggling to draw breath, Madara reached up to pull his husband in and whispered in the fractional space left between their lips. “I already do.”

What possessed him to word his sentence like that he couldn’t say but the effect was more than worth any lingering embarrassment he might have felt for declaring himself so openly. Something in Tobirama’s eyes shattered in the best possible way and he flowed forward to take Madara's lips as a warrior takes his victory, unhesitant and unrestrained, no apologies and no quarter given. Keeping up with his kisses would have been difficult enough even without the distraction of his wandering hands. Madara writhed as the roamed freely across his body leaving trails of fire in their wake. If he gasped Tobirama deepened their kiss. If he arched Tobirama pressed their bodies closer.

It wasn’t until he felt those overwhelming fingers pulling at something on his hip that he remembered there was a single barrier left between them but he was so aroused he couldn’t think of a single reason it should not be done away with. Who had time to be embarrassed? Clearly he was much too busy gasping for air and writhing under the sensation of Tobirama’s hard cock rutting in to the crease of his groin, tucked in alongside his own and oh so good the way they rubbed together.

The exact progression of events existed to Madara as a hazy blur of heat and touch and lewd sounds he hadn’t even realized he was capable of making. Somehow Tobirama’s hands managed to be everywhere at once and yet always just where he needed them to be, stroking without teasing and driving him ever higher towards heights he barely recognized. He’d touched himself before. Obviously. But no shameful quick strokes of his own hand could ever compare to the feeling of teeth scraping up the sides of his neck while Tobirama’s weight rocked them both in to the mattress in a steady rhythm. Madara hardly had time to recognize his end before it was coiling tighter and tighter and he fisted both hands in his husband’s hair, throwing his head back with gritted teeth and praying not yet, not yet, not yet.

“It��s alright,” Tobirama’s voice rumbled against the shell of his ear in panting breaths. “Come for me, husband. Let me watch you fall apart so I can put you back together – and take you apart again.”

If Madara whimpered there was only the two of them here to know and never tell another soul.

Then for a few eternal moments the very knowledge of his own existence was wiped from his mind, whimpers and any other reactionary noises entirely forgotten in the rush of cumming harder than he ever had before. His back arched off the bed with the force of it and his arms lifted off their own accord to wrap around Tobirama’s shoulders and hang on for dear life. When he hit the mattress again he was panting harder than the first time his sensei made him run fifty laps around the old Uchiha compound.

“Oh sweet flames,” he whimpered. “You’re going to do that again?”

“I’m going to do that better,” Tobirama corrected him, pulling away to leer seductively. Madara gaped at him stupidly. The very concept of pleasure any better than that seemed impossible but he’d never known this man to be a liar.

“Prove it.”

Again it seemed he had blurted out exactly the right thing to say without meaning to, something he absently noted would bode well for them doing this again in the future. With all the hunger in his eyes of a man deprived his appetites for more than half a year Tobirama crawled back down the bed and drew his tongue straight through the mess Madara had just made of his own stomach. It should have been gross. Madara wondered if he could pass the heat in his cheeks off as anger instead of the arousal coursing through him, making him twitch no matter than he had just experienced release.

Why, in the name of all things holy, had he never tested his own refraction time before? What a waste of an inquisitive youth.

On the upside Tobirama seemed determined to test that for him. Whatever magic he was working with that tongue of his certainly seemed to be doing a good job of bringing Madara's body back to attention must faster than he would have thought possible. The sensations were so overwhelming he almost missed it when hands began to roam his skin again, just another layer in the sensory overload, but when he did finally notice Madara was glad that he did.

It would have been all too easy to dismiss the touches as no more than aimless pawing at his person, as sensual groping with no purpose other than to arouse. And he might have dismissed them as such but for the tenderness in Tobirama’s face when his husband flicked those pretty red eyes up to meet his own for a single brief moment. Then he understood. Madara closed his own eyes and drew in a breath that shuddered, body shaking, emotions almost as strong as the touches driving him wild – touches that said more than words ever could. He’d known since the two of them finally started getting to know each other that Tobirama had been raised in a world where he learned to speak with his actions rather than his language. And he’d even thought he was coming to understand the way his husband expressed himself but oh how he hadn’t known what he hadn’t known.

No kind gesture of making tea or carrying him to bed when he fell asleep on the couch could ever compare to the messages conveyed in the tender hands tracing every inch of his body like memorizing a masterpiece with touch alone. Every press of those fingers was a declaration of love, every stroke a promise, and each time the touches paused to linger somewhere in particular Madara wished he knew the words being pressed in to his skin like reverent prayers. He would learn this language too if it killed him.

And it might, he decided, if the pleasure continued to mount beyond the bounds of what he could understand. By the time one of those wandering glorious hands slid around to trace the edges of his most intimate place Madara was almost too caught up in the beat of his own heart to notice. He definitely noticed when a little oil was added.

“Hah!”

“Should I slow down?” Tobirama’s voice rumbled from where he was lavishing attention on the line of Madara's oblique muscles.

“N-no! Shut up! Just…that’s not…I didn’t expect…shut up and don’t stop, damn it!”

He ignored the chuckle which meant his partner was laughing at him in favor of biting down on a drawn out moan, entirely engaged with the sensation of a long thing finger sliding inside him for the first time. Suddenly he regretted all the times he had staunchly decided against touching this part of himself and yet somehow at the same time praised himself for holding out. As unprepared as he was for this new wave of sensations he was glad that Tobirama was the one to help him discover them.

Or maybe it was just that he was glad he’d never explored himself like this with anyone he was related to in the same house where they would have surely heard the shameless noises spilling out of him one after another. Even the palm firmly tucked over his mouth couldn’t contain the litany of gasps and moans – and it was only one finger! Madara's eyes fairly rolled in to the back of his head when he felt a second nudging at his entrance.

“Will you even fit?” He didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud – in a very breathy voice – until he felt Tobirama’s weight shifting off the mattress and looked down to see one pale eyebrow lifted in a disgustingly attractive smug expression.

“That’s what the stretching is for, love.”

Madara would have responded if he could string anymore words together but the friction of Tobirama’s fingers sinking inside him and the warm glide of the oil between them stole his attention back much too easily. His eyes snapped open to stare sightlessly at the ceiling with shock when he felt a hot tongue laving at his nipples but, already well past the point of being able to separate the massive tangle of input, it was hard to tell whether he really did like the feeling or if he only did because the rest of his body was so sensitive already. Not that it mattered. He felt good and safe and that was all he cared about.

Three fingers felt almost like too much at first but by that point Tobirama was smart enough to move up and distract him with kisses, for which Madara was grateful. For every inch their bodies that he could feel pressing together he felt grounded, captured in the moment, as though the mere presence of the man he loved was a safety net without which he might actually fly to pieces. His mind did its best to focus on the kisses while his body could do nothing but shake.

When the fingers inside him pulled away Madara shocked himself by almost whining for them to come back and he had to bite down on his lip to stop the flood of questions that tried to spill out, forcing himself to stay quiet and observe as Tobirama leaned away to pick up the bottle of oil he hadn’t seen before. He’d had sex explained to him when puberty hit. And he’d had to sit through it all again when Susumu-sensei caught him asking questions about boys instead of girls. He knew what the oil was for, why Tobirama was pouring out a little more. Unexpected was the muted noise that made Tobirama turn his head away as the tips of his ears turned pink.

“Eager?” Madara couldn’t help but tease in a breathless voice.

“More so than I have ever been before,” his partner admitted. “Your people may have been on to something with the idea that love changes this experience.” Wryness twisted his lips a little but Tobirama shrugged away any shame he might have felt for his words rather easily.

“Are you…”

The way his words trailed off must have made him sound unsure. Tobirama hesitated, pulling his hand away from where he had been spreading it on himself and capping the oil to let it drop to the side of the bed. “Not if you–”

“Kami, stop asking if I’m ready!” If he added enough grumpiness to his voice then maybe it would cover the lingering nerves. He only needed one look to see he hadn’t fooled anyone, that Tobirama could see right through him, and on any other day he would have appreciated that his husband knew him so well.

He didn’t say anything more, though. So that was nice. Much nicer was the kiss hot and deep that kept him centered as Tobirama shuffled his weight around to situate his body a little more comfortably between Madara's legs. When he rocked his hips forward this time it was an aborted motion that brought the head of his cock up to Madara's entrance without pushing inside, almost like a false start to warn of his intentions. And it was, apparently, a good thing that he did since every muscle in Madara's jumped with shock despite the fact that he was more than expecting it.

Tobirama broke their kiss to duck down in to his neck but he caught a flash of amusement before teeth dragging at the lobe of his ear stole the words he was about to say. He was ready the next time, resolutely keeping his muscles loose when he felt the nudge at his entrance, though there was nothing to be done for the heat in his cheeks. The nibbles on his ears turned to soft kisses trailing down his neck as the pressure increased. All the thoughts in his head melted together until all he knew was the push, the pressure, the moment before completion. Then his back was bowing up and his fingers fisting in Tobirama’s hair, eyes wide as he tried to process the sensation of being quite so full.

Only when quiet words murmuring in his ears slowly began to filter through the fog did he realize how laser focused he was on the connection between them. Slowly, gradually, the world came back in little pieces and he listened to Tobirama murmuring small reassurances in a voice that sounded like he was barely holding himself together. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one a little overwhelmed here.

“Move!” he managed to gasp eventually and Tobirama did not need to be told twice.

Curses spilled out of him immediately but the murmuring against his neck never stopped and the sound of his husband’s voice worked amazingly to keep him grounded until he was able to think through waves of pleasure he could hardly believe. But when he was able to think again he wished he could sink back in to that strange space outside of awareness. Of all the possible reactions to finally having everything he’d ever wanted in life – love, a husband, a moment they could come together and celebrate that love – the one reaction he would never have expected from himself was the urge to cry. Madara was tempted to scream at his own body for betraying him like this.

Salvation came in the form of a bitten off groan in his ear and a powerful shudder running through his limbs. Focusing on Tobirama’s pleasure was so much less mortifying than his own. And it came with the added benefit of puffing his chest out with pride because that was his doing. He was the reason Tobirama’s infamous self-control was cracking.

A little taste of that power left him craving for more, unsurprisingly. Madara wracked his distracted wrung-out brain for a way to drive his husband as close to the edge as he already was again and when an idea came to him he gave himself no time to think it through, turning his head to pant his words against the sweaty skin of Tobirama’s temple. Or he tried to, at least, most of his words broken and interrupted as he writhed under the feeling of being filled over and over in a steady rhythm.

“Feels g- you feel good! Shit you- ah! There!” The mortification that burned through him at being so vocal was made entirely worth it when Tobirama let out an unfettered noise that could only be described as desperate, spurring him on. “I love you.”

“Nnnnh! Anata, stop.” Incredibly, Tobirama’s voice came out as a whine.

“You d-don’t – haaah! – like my words?”

He did not expect Tobirama to bite at his ear again and confess in a low rush, “I like them too much, you minx.”

Yet another steady rocking of pale hips and Madara saw stars behind the fluttering of his eyelids. He wanted to say that sex wasn’t anything close to how he imagined it, so much better than the shades of minor pleasure he was able to give to himself under the covers alone, but his lungs constricted around the words and his tongue was busy crying out against pale skin where he buried his face in a strong shoulder. Sex was nothing like he could have known. Making love, he corrected himself distantly. They were making love.

It even felt like love, something he had quietly hoped for when he was young with stars in his eyes and then later mournfully rejected as romanticism as his bodily urges towards Tobirama grew more and more animalistic. He did feel like an animal, his body rolling and thrashing in his efforts to ride the hot intrusion sliding in and out, but it also felt like love in the way Tobirama surrounded him on all sides and pressed against him with as much skin as possible. Pale fingers stroking his hair. Warm lips murmuring promises in to his skin. This was base lust but it was also love and the combination made his gut twist in a way he most certainly recognized.

Someday he might achieve the same level of shamelessness as the man above him but in the state he was now there was not a force on earth that could help him find the words to warn his husband of the tension building at an unstoppable rate. Try as he might he just couldn’t force himself to say it, settling instead for pulling Tobirama up in to a frantic kiss, biting and licking in a frantic way that startled them both. He wanted to say something, though he had no idea where the urge was coming from. If he opened his mouth with so much frazzled energy hummed underneath his skin he was sure all that spilled out would be an endless litany of babble and nonsense – or worse, confessions of all the depraved imaginings he’d constructed in his mind and every way Tobirama had blown his expectations out of the water.

“Anata,” Tobirama’s voice brushed against his ear, husky and irresistible. “Say something else.”

“You- you told me – nnh – to stop!”

“Changed my mind. Shit, just, Madara.” He’d never heard his name in such a debauched way and Madara found he couldn’t be bothered to rationalize his husband’s change of heart. All he could do was give the man what he asked for no matter that he’d just decided it was a terrible idea. In that tone he would give Tobirama what he wanted.

“I love you,” he blurted, the first words that came to mind.

The shattered sound his husband made might have been enough to send him over the edge on its own, though they would have to lay together again for him to figure that out. With a particularly harsh snap of his hips Tobirama drove deep and hit something inside of Madara that made his vision go white and the coil inside of him snapped so hard he echoed his partner’s scream.

No orgasm had ever felt like this one. Spilling over his own fist after hurriedly palming himself under the covers was nothing like this. This was lights behind his eyes and muscles contracting, knuckles as white as the hair they gripped and throat raw with the force of expressing himself. Nothing existed outside the solidity of the man in his arms and the thickness of the length still grinding inside him as though determined to make him lose his mind entirely. Unlike the quick burst of pleasure he was used to this was an arched spine he couldn’t seem to unbend and stickiness between their bellies that he could never have caught in his fist like usual. Several minutes passed before he could hear past the ringing in his ear, the rest of the world fading back in to focus as well.

An exhausted, loopy sort of grin spread across his face when he finally heard the way Tobirama was murmuring under his breath, probably entirely unaware he was doing so judging by the soppy romantic nonsense he was spouting. They had made love. If he had a little more energy he might have been tempted to go shout that from the rooftops and rub it in his brother’s face. It might have taken them a few months extra to get there but they had finally – happily – consummated their marriage. This really was the rest of their lives.

Now he was exhausted and cramped and his belly was a little gross. The aftermath of sex wasn’t quite as romantic as he pictured it to be. Lazy open-mouthed kisses began traveled up his neck, down the line of his chin, and as they reached his own lips Madara thought that he could not possibly care less for the supposed reality of the situation, not when Tobirama seemed determined to keep holding him close and kiss the breath right out of him.

“You’re heavy,” he grunted finally, half-heartedly pushing at one shoulder of the body flopped over his own. Then he muffled a protesting whine as Tobirama fairly shot upright.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Without even waiting for an answer his hands were stroking wherever they could reach in what Madara had to admit was quite a soothing manner. Unnecessary but soothing all the same. He had a feeling that his side and chest were not where he was going to be sore later.

“Not used to holding my legs open this wide for this long.” Saying so brought the red back to his cheeks and he cursed it. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long for the ingrained shame of these activities to fade.

Tobirama blinked and looked down at the place where their bodies joined with one eyebrow raised, prompting Madara to cover his eyes with one hand. He didn’t need to look there! The hand stayed until he felt cool lips pressing a kiss against the back of his fingers and a voice warning him that his partner was about to pull away. He wondered for a moment why he might need warning, it was basically the same motion they been doing together for the last several minutes, he didn’t see why it should be any different now. Then Tobirama slowly began to pull away and it stole a sharp cry from him before he bit down on his lower lip to cut it off.

Okay. The warning was necessary. He really hadn’t anticipated how sensitive that area would be now.

It made sense when he thought about it. His intimate parts were usually quite sensitive to the drag of cotton as he pulled his clothing back in to place after relieving a bit of tension. But how was he supposed to know that there could be quite that sensitive? He opened his mouth to ask – then shut it again and wondered if sex brain was always going to trick him in to asking stupid questions.

Letting his husband clean him was somehow even more mortifying than anything else had been but all it took was one pointed look and Tobirama asking if he wanted to do it himself for Madara to subside, hand back over his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch. His good behavior was rewarded with more kisses against random patches of skin until as much of the oil had been wiped away as possible and the blankets they’d made a mess of had been straightened around them. When Tobirama crawled in to bed he only made it partway across the mattress before freezing in a rather comical four-legged stance as he caught sight of Madara's expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re…not going to get dressed?”

“I hadn’t planned to.” Sitting back on his haunches was no less comical looking, though he didn’t seem to care. “Does that make you uncomfortable? I can if you’d like me to.”

Madara glared at him. Even after everything they’d just done he was still being sweet and considerate. Unbearable. “It’s fine! Everything’s fine! Just get in the bed!”

They had just been rubbing all against each other quite intimately, after all. It really shouldn’t bother him to stay naked if all they were doing was falling asleep. As his husband crawled in Madara tried not to picture getting called out of bed for some emergency that had him booking it through the streets with his bits swinging in the breeze. Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, he just knew it would be one of their brothers’ fault.

His suspicious musings were cut short by warm fingers brushing down the back of his arm. He looked round to find Tobirama smiling up at him from the pillows, arms opened in an invitation he was all too happy to accept. Burrowing in to that pale chest and breathing in the scent of sweat and love-making was much preferable to imagining catastrophes that hadn’t happened. Yet. He very nearly purred when he felt the hands on his waist dig in to slowly scratch up and down the length of his back in absent circles, a most excellent distraction no matter what stupidity was clogging up his brain.

“Will you say it one more time?”

“Hm?” Already the fog of lassitude had begun to fall over him and Madara had to fight his way through it to figure out what that meant, responding in a quieter voice. “Oh. I love you.” He hummed contentedly when the arms around him tightened.

“I love you too, Madara.”

With all his heart he believed that. It was the single most freeing assurance he had ever experienced in his life and as he lay there in their home, in their marriage bed, he wondered if he would change anything about their journey given the chance. Then he snorted very gently and determinedly settled in for a quick nap before the rest of the world came to bother them as he knew it would. What use was there in wondering about the past with such a wonderful future ahead of them?

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #kagami #fanfiction #me?? posting at 4 in the morning??#it's more likely than you think #and by likely i mean please pray for my soul #as i attempt to flip my sleep schedule back to nights again #T_T

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