DISCLAIMER: Naruto is a series originally created by Kishimoto Masashi. This is a work of fan fiction. No copyright infringement was intended.
There was yet another low rumble in the distance, and when the shock wave finally reached the village and the house began to shake lightly, Tobirama lay down the ink brush from his hand, leaned back in his zaisu chair and glanced at the flickering flame of his oil lamp, frowning.
The night was heavy, the air pregnant with humidity, and behind the mountains, against the churning red canvas created by the kyuubi's overwhelming power, he could sense his brother and Madara's chakras spike over and over and over again.
He had been told not to interfere with the battle. "Stay in the village," Hashirama had said, "protect everyone if I fail."
Protect everyone? Tobirama would have laughed in his brother's face, had Hashirama's expression not been so severe at the time. There was no way Tobirama could've protected Konoha against Madara, not without his brother firmly by his side. Not without his chakra, his determination, his authority.
If Hashirama failed, Konoha would be doomed.
Just half an hour later, there was commotion outside, people running through the muddy yard of the house, shouts in the distance, and Tobirama scooted up, alerted.
How could Hashirama be back so soon? Or did they already have Madara on their gates, ready let his bijuu loose in the village? Surely, the man knew how to cloak his chakra well enough to fool Tobirama, too. They had gathered all the women and children into both the natural and the newly excavated and furnished caves within the Hokage Mountain, but that would've been of little help, had all their homes and possessions been destroyed and their husbands and fathers slaughtered by the merciless, vengeful Uchiha.
Tobirama opened the shouji doors, stepped outside to the terrace and lit up the lanterns one by one before walking down the stairs and reaching down to touch the already wet ground, as the rain once again began to fall in heavy, drenching drops around him.
He could finally sense Hashirama's faint, abused chakra, now approaching from the direction of the main gates of the village. At first, Tobirama suspected he must've been heavily wounded; however, the way a handful of people gathered around him and followed him through the streets seemed to tell otherwise, so after a moment's hesitation, Tobirama decided to stand back and wait for his brother to emerge from the darkness.
He did not have to wait long. Shrouded by the gray veil of the pouring rain, Hashirama stumbled into the circle of light, dragging Madara's lifeless body on his back. A few more meters, and the hokage fell onto his knees in front of his brother, mindful enough not let his precious cargo slide and fall face down in the mud.
"Anija - ?"
"He's dead. Take him inside."
Tobirama's eyes widened.
Dead.
Uchiha Madara was dead.
For a second or two Tobirama was too stunned to move, but when Hashirama raised his hand to wipe his dirt streaked face on his sleeve, still panting, he somehow managed to shake himself into action, gathering the limp, wet corpse in his arms.
The rigor mortis had not set in yet, and the Uchiha felt heavier than Tobirama had expected. The soaked black mop of his hair glowed dimly in the light cast by the terrace lanterns.
It wasn't until then that he noticed the gash in Madara's chest; apparently, the rain had washed away most of the blood from his clothes, but closer to the wound, the fabric was still glued to the skin, tinted with crimson. The Uchiha looked calm as if he was sound asleep, and only the paleness of his lips revealed that his chakra was no longer present in his body.
Tobirama carried the man up the stairs, maneuvered him through the door and laid him down on the boarded kitchen floor. He then searched the body for traps or weapons and heard Hashirama cough as he made his way in, too.
"Are you injured?"
The older Senju shook his head, even though Tobirama could see an oddly shaped laceration in his arm below the shoulder. It appeared to be relatively shallow, and Tobirama wondered why Hashirama hadn't bothered to heal it before his arrival. He could tell his brother was low on chakra but not low enough to neglect his own well-being in such a manner.
"I did it with a sword."
"Which one?"
Hashirama rubbed his forehead. "I don't remember. I wasn't thinking. And honestly, I don't even care."
"And the kyuubi?"
"Still out there. I need to get Mito - she has already prepared the seals we can use to contain it."
Tobirama laid his hand on the Uchiha's unmoving chest, and when Hashirama turned to leave the room, he cleared his throat.
"Brother, wait."
"Yes?"
"I need to perform a cranial autopsy on Madara." He stood up and crossed his arms across his chest.
"Is that really necessary?" Hashirama's voice was starting to grow thin from exhaustion, and Tobirama nodded stiffly.
"I want to find out what brings on this curse so that we can prepare ourselves in case there will be other similar occurrences within the Uchiha clan. To prevent this from happening again."
"But he was my friend." Hashirama leaned his still clothed shoulder against the door frame, his wet hair falling limp over his face.
"And you just ran your sword through his heart because he was trying to destroy everything we have built together so far."
Tobirama could tell that Hashirama was troubled by his suggestion, but after a few moments in silent contemplation, his brother straightened his back.
"You may do as you please."
"Thank you."
Later that night, Tobirama received a message that his brother's wife had succeeded in sealing the kyuubi within herself. He'd never doubted her skills in fuuinjutsu, but her determination together with the unproportionate amount of strength hidden within that meager body of hers still managed to take him by surprise sometimes.
To Tobirama, women had never been of any significance. The majority of them were mere vessels, necessary for bringing new life to the world. But when it came to controlling the bijuu, even the women of the famed but nearly extinct Uzumaki clan were all equipped with the right kind of chakra - and with that very chakra, Mito had just made Fire the strongest nation on Earth.
The newly excavated and constructed laboratory deep within the Hokage Mountain was, without question, a perfect place for such a discreet procedure. Together with the hospital, the school and the mortuary next door, it was also one of the few places in Konoha that had already been fully electrified, and it had a refrigerator large enough to accommodate up to three corpses as well as any chemicals or samples that needed to be kept in cold storage. The majority of the medical equipment available was also more or less up to date, including the small electric saw Tobirama expected to become handy when he would take a peek inside the Uchiha's skull.
The tiled floors were white and clean, the storage cabinets, tables and the fridge made of hygienic stainless steel, and after having the mortuary staff prepare the room with the rest of the instruments required for an autopsy, it was finally time to get to work, less than three hours after Madara's death.
To avoid all the prying eyes of the village, Tobirama used hiraishin to transport the Uchiha directly into the laboratory, then laid him on the autopsy table and undressed him. Luckily, there was no need to cut his clothes, so he could eventually be buried in them - a specific wish from Hashirama who had been reluctant to touch the Uchiha's remains after his return.
However, before setting to work, Tobirama took time to make some notes of his initial observations.
The Uchiha was truly a fine specimen of a man, symmetric in every sense of the word. The wound in his chest was as clean as it could possibly be, and Tobirama wondered how Hashirama had managed to land such a perfect strike; after all, his brother had never been the main swordsman of the family.
Like Hashirama, Madara had always preferred to keep his hair long, and it had never appeared to bother him in battle. The texture of those thick strands was not as coarse as Tobirama had expected, and later, when he cleaned up the Uchiha's corpse, he also washed his hair, fascinated by its thickness and quality so different from his brother's.
Madara's hands and feet weren't nearly as calloused as they should've been for a shinobi of his age, and Tobirama couldn't find a single major scar on his body. It was a telltale indication of Madara's skills as a fighter, as his healing abilities had obviously been nowhere on par with Hashirama's. Even as a child, he had evidently never been gravely injured.
Madara had more muscle mass than your average ninja; to Tobirama's astonishment, he was only slightly less bulked up than Hashirama - whose muscles, in turn, had never been quite as distinguished as the Uchiha's. Madara's natural skin tone was fair but not pale, and the tiny hairs on his body were mostly almost invisible except for the dark brown patches of straight underarm and pubic hair.
After having removed the Uchiha's clothing, Tobirama had already been appraising his penis from time to time, and finally, he closed his fingers around the limp organ. It was thick - not as thick as his brother's, but thicker than his own - and although he knew it would not react to his touch, he couldn't help but feel somewhat disappointed.
He wasn't quite sure how to interpret the conflicting sensations caused by the simple act of holding his now former enemy's genitals in his hand. If Madara had been alive, it would've probably been sheer torture to him, unless, of course, he would've preferred to be touched by a man. Even as a boy, Tobirama had always seen Madara as a distinctively sexual being - albeit back then, at the tender age of ten, he had not understood the exact source and meaning of his feelings. After having secretly observed Madara and Hashirama for more than three months, his admiration and wonder had gradually been eroded and surpassed by jealousy, and he had decided to let their father know about Hashirama's liaison with the Uchiha.
Hashirama had never blamed his little brother for what he had done that fateful day. But he had blamed him after Madara had left Konoha, even though Tobirama had, in spite of his poorly concealed mistrust towards the Uchiha, always done his best to act civil in his presence.
What Hashirama hadn't realized was that his honeymoon with Madara had been over the day he had announced his engagement to the Uzumaki woman. The fact that he had - rightfully so - been elected hokage a couple of weeks later had actually had little to do with Madara's departure.
Tobirama, on the other hand, had never bothered to try and explain the true nature of the split to his brother, partly because it might've compelled him to make his own repressed desires known in the process.
As much as he had disliked Uchiha Madara, he had also always been haunted by a lingering sense of yearning - even now when the man was lying irrevocably dead before him.
He had performed several autopsies on Uchihas of various ages before, and the extent of abnormal structures in Madara's brain only confirmed his suspicions - at least as far as the sharingan was concerned.
The pronounced optic nerves were not only directly connected to the visual cortex of Madara's brain but also to the frontal lobe and the limbic system that supports functions such as adrenaline flow, emotion and motivation, which was likely to explain the heavy influence Madara's behavior had had on the evolution of his doujutsu as well.
Tobirama leaned back in his chair and hummed.
Such distinctive mutations could only be the result of selective inbreeding. Not outright incest, perhaps, but the clan was relatively small and the Uchihas rarely married outside of it. Within the Senju clan, marrying cousins was generally accepted but not encouraged, and basically any new blood - especially female - was always welcome, which in turn enabled considerable genetic variation.
The laboratory had been equipped with one of the latest medical inventions, an EEG apparatus that not only recorded the spontaneous electrical activity of the brain but could also be used to stimulate it with electric impulses of pre-set frequencies. It had cost the village a small fortune, but Tobirama had insisted on purchasing it because he saw its potential now that the Uchiha clan constituted a significant part of Konoha's population, and he hoped that it would also help him to understand the neural mechanisms behind Madara's sharingan.
After attaching the electrodes directly on the surface of Madara's brain, Tobirama spent most of the night calibrating the machine in order to mimic Madara's own neural activity. The results, however, weren't particularly encouraging, as electric stimulation on the visual cortex and the optic nerves alone clearly wasn't enough to produce the effects he was looking for, and it was only when he moved a couple of electrodes closer to Madara's frontal lobe, the ordinary sharingan flared to life a number of times, albeit briefly. It would've required an endogenous, masterly controlled chakra feed to maintain the doujutsu, let alone to make any practical use of it, and with the equipment available, Tobirama knew he would never be able to stimulate Madara's brain in a way that would provide him a glimpse of the full glory of his eternal mangekyou sharingan.
After closing Madara's skull and sewing his scalp to keep his head neatly in one piece, Tobirama sawed open his sternum and cut the ribs to get a proper look inside his chest.
Hashirama's sword had pierced both the upper left chamber as well as the main aorta of the Uchiha's heart, so Madara's death must've been almost instant due to the shock caused by such a major trauma. Otherwise, there was nothing out of the ordinary, not even a single broken rib or signs of extracardiac internal bleeding. Whatever bruises he had were all superficial and required no further investigation.
How exactly had Hashirama done it? His brother had avoided the subject entirely, and because of Hashirama's currently agitated state of mind, Tobirama had thought it wise not to push the matter.
He sat next to the Uchiha's corpse for nearly an hour, first finalizing his notes, then deep in his thoughts while his fingers were brushing idly at the man's cold, smooth skin.
Ever since he had laid Madara on the examination table, Tobirama had been constantly plagued by flashbacks of the studies he had conducted in his tiny zoo that consisted mainly of carefully bred white mice and pigeons. He had been working on a special jutsu for over a year now, and all of his recent tests had yielded consistent results.
He called the technique edo tensei, the impure world reincarnation. It was a jutsu where a dead being's chakra was forced back to the world of the living, attached to a separate vessel and thus made practically immortal. The only drawback to the technique was that the vessel had to be alive the moment the jutsu was executed, so using edo tensei in order to bring back someone - like Madara - would've meant that another man's life would've been claimed in the process.
Letting his brother know about his experiments was naturally out of the question. Sacrificing people - whether they were enemies or even serious criminals or other wrongdoers - in order to create indestructible or at least regenerable warriors for combat purposes would have been an abomination to Hashirama even if it would've meant saving their own soldiers' lives.
As expected, Tobirama did not agree with all of his brother's moral standards as far as military ethics was concerned, which was why he had decided to keep his work a well-guarded secret. However, he had yet to test the jutsu on a human subject, and right now, right there beside him lay a man Tobirama had despised, hated, feared and secretly craved for more ten years of his life.
It took him six hours of restless sleep and six hours of going through his notes on the jutsu before he decided to give in to the temptation.
The tests he had carried out on animals had already indicated that it was indeed possible to summon a spirit back into its original, deceased body as well. However, controlling the individual required a complex set of external seals, and once the body was seriously damaged or destroyed, it would be basically impossible to rebuild it. Unlike edo tensei, it was the only technique that truly resembled a resurrection without actually being one, so Tobirama had named it joudo tensei - the pure world reincarnation.
Tobirama had to admit to himself that the very idea of giving Madara's original body a shot was foolish if not insane, especially after such an invasive autopsy, but because he had left not only Madara's internal organs but also his eyes as good as intact, he was curious about witnessing the power of the eternal mangekyou sharingan that he had personally never had a chance to see before.
In the end, his foolishness very nearly cost him his life.
He had prepared an extensive network of seals that were supposed to keep Madara strictly under his command, but as soon as revived, the Uchiha opened his eyes in full mangekyou sharingan and lashed out like a snake, his reflexes nearly as agile as in his prime. Had Tobirama not kept his distance to the Uchiha, he wouldn't have had time activate all the seals surrounding the table - and that, in turn, would've meant that he, most likely, wouldn't have survived.
Well, at least the incident made it obvious that using Madara's own body was now out of the question.
So Tobirama had to start looking for a replacement.
"What exactly do you need him for?"
"I'm planning to examine him for the sake of comparison."
"Oh. I see. Well, as far as I know, this Kumo boy is - or was - more or less neurotypical, if you know what I mean."
"Yes, I do. Have your men deliver him to my laboratory by this afternoon. You can leave the paperwork to me."
The Kumo shinobi was young, dark-skinned and somewhat attractive, and he had fallen into deep coma as a result of an intracranial hemorrhage that had been caused by a simple, uncalculated blow to the back of his head soon after he had been brought to Konoha for interrogation. Tobirama knew he was not currently in a position to sacrifice anyone for his experiments, but it was clear that no one would miss the boy - not even the interrogation team who had already been informed that there was a great chance their prisoner would never wake up again.
The seal controlling the edo tensei had to be designed with utmost care. After debating with himself whether or not to repress Madara's personality, Tobirama eventually figured the man might provide him with useful information in one way or another if he remained fully conscious during the experiment. If the edo tensei mice had been able to squeak, it was fairly certain that the reincarnated Madara would be able to speak, too.
Most importantly, he had to make sure the Uchiha would not be able to move of his own volition anymore. Tobirama had to bind his hands as well as his feet, but he did not want to have him completely paralyzed. The most practical solution was to combine delayed responses to partial, one-sided motion, which meant that Madara would be able to move only one hand, one part of his arm and one finger at the time. That would eliminate the possibility of even minute hand signs, especially if the simultaneous chakra flow remained weak enough, thus preventing any signs from taking effect.
After completing the seal scroll and smearing a drop of Madara's blood on it, Tobirama pushed the examination table out into the corridor and laid the Kumo boy in the center of the laboratory floor before taking a seat cross-legged near the wall a few meters away. He knew the technique well enough not to be concerned about his own safety this time, but the seal, once activated, required plenty of space, and the laboratory was slightly too cramped a canvas for it.
He rolled the scroll open before him and took a deep breath before starting with the hand seals.
Tiger.
Snake.
Dog.
Dragon.
Clap.
Watching the dust begin to gather in such a large scale was awe-inspiring.
Unlike during his experiments with the mice, the signs covering on the white tiles of the floor were now practically glowing around the vessel, and Tobirama could literally feel the power of the vortex within his own body as well, as the atoms and molecules gathered and rearranged themselves by the power of his own chakra - and Madara's.
The process itself did not take very long - less than twenty seconds from the beginning till the end - but to Tobirama, it felt like a small eternity.
And then it was over, and there he was, his hair fanned out, his eyes tightly shut and his body completely naked, as requested in the seal.
Uchiha Madara.
"You've obviously planned ahead better this time," Madara croaked, his abs tensing as he made a feeble effort to sit up on the examination table.
"I learn quickly."
"So I've noticed."
Madara's skin hadn't turned out as smooth as Tobirama had hoped for - there were faint cracks crisscrossing the surface - but the color was right and the texture was flexible enough to allow natural movement. A cold breath of air from the ventilation system made the hair on Madara's makeshift skin stand up, and when Tobirama's exploring fingers brushed over the Uchiha's nipple, its bud hardened instantly at the touch.
It was a mesmerizing sight indeed.
Madara's impatience was clearly growing by the minute, and he observed the Senju with a deep frown, his lips parted and the muscles in his arms twitching.
"Does this tickle?" Tobirama's fingernails raked the Madara's chest as his red eyes shifted to his face, and the Uchiha grimaced.
"I don't know what you're planning to do, but I suggest you get on with it already."
"You're dead, so there's hardly any point in rushing at things. I've only done this to small rodents before, and there are quite a number of experiments to be done before we can even consider getting you off this table."
"Rodents, huh?" Madara tried to tap the surface of the table with his fingers, but the movement was painstakingly slow. Any hand signs were definitely out of the question. "I must've given you quite a scare earlier when you woke me up. If my corpse hadn't been so damn stiff, you wouldn't be standing there ogling at me right now."
"I'm fully aware of that."
"Would you be able to use this technique on Izuna, too?" Madara's voice was filled with genuine curiosity, and Tobirama raised an eyebrow.
"I have no interest in him whatsoever."
"Nevertheless."
Tobirama leaned against the table and hovered over the Uchiha's body, questioning. "Would you really allow me use a coarse reincarnation jutsu to bring back your own brother?"
"Why not? There were so many things left unsaid. Things I wanted him to know."
"Was that before or after you stole his eyes?"
Madara's features hardened. "These eyes were a precious gift from a courageous young man who was wounded and eventually killed by your sword."
"In fair battle," Tobirama reminded, lost in thought.
The Uchiha did not reply.
The sclera of Madara's eyes was now dark grey due to the molecular changes that had taken place on its surface, but the lacrimal glands were in perfect working condition. An eye without lubrication would've been a useless eye, after all.
Both Madara's mouth and throat were moist, too; apparently the Kumo boy's salivary glands had remained functional and his respiratory capacity normal so that the edo tensei would be able to speak. Fortunately, aside from his occasionally sharp retorts and remarks, Madara had turned out to be more agreeable company than Tobirama had expected.
The rest of Madara's body remained perfectly dry. No urine, no feces, no nasal mucus, no cerumen, not even a single drop of perspiration. His body temperature followed the temperature of the room, and even though some heat was occasionally generated by the Uchiha's limited muscular activity, it had little or no effect on his composition or functionality.
Which basically meant that Madara was cool, dry and velvety to touch, and Tobirama had to admit that he found it quite pleasing.
He began the series of tests by attempting to injure or at least to damage the Uchiha with a selection of weapons including needles, kunais and swords and even poisons and venoms of various kind, both injected and swallowed or inhaled. However, as Tobirama had expected, none of them had any noticeable effect on the Uchiha who appeared to be aeons away in his own thoughts throughout most of the experiments.
"How did he do it?" Tobirama inquired at last, taking a seat on the edge of the autopsy table with a piece of rope in his hands.
"Hm?"
"How did my brother kill you?"
"I'd rather not share that information with you."
Tobirama crossed his arms. "I could force you to talk, if that's more preferable to you."
"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" Madara smirked. "You never fail to impress me, Tobirama. You always get what you want, one way or another, the spoiled little brother that you are."
"If that was truly the case, you wouldn't be lying there right now."
"Oh?"
"Just answer my question."
"He used a wood clone to distract me, and the next thing I knew he was right behind me and ran a sword through my chest."
Tobirama chuckled. "That was careless - even of you."
"I'm amazed he hasn't told you."
"There are many things we don't talk about."
Madara tilted his head. "I take it he doesn't know about this technique?"
Tobirama's jaw tightened. "No, he does not."
"You should really watch your step, then."
"I always do."
"So, what's next? Are you going to chop me to pieces?"
"Perhaps later. But first, I'd like to see what happens if I try to strangle you."
"Very funny. Except that you're probably not joking."
"No, I am not."
"Figured as much."
Over the course of the experiments, Tobirama couldn't help paying attention to the way Madara would sometimes flinch or twitch at the lightest of his touches even when he had a large weapon sticking out of his chest. It wasn't entirely unlooked-for; after all, while an edo tensei was fully capable of remaining completely oblivious of the possible damage done to its body, it still needed keep track of the smaller sensations because in order to move properly, it had to stay constantly aware of its position in relation to its surroundings.
However, in Madara's case, Tobirama soon discovered the fun of tormenting the immobilized man with his fingertips. A subtle graze here, a fleeting, exaggeratingly innocent caress there, and the defiant Uchiha was writhing. It was almost as if Madara's incapability to feel pain actually enhanced his ability to feel pleasure - an idea that defied all logic even though the two sensations were sometimes considered to be most intimately connected.
But then again, Madara's hypersensitivity might've been a personal trait instead. Tobirama remembered the effect his touchy-feely brother used to have on the Uchiha back when he was still residing in Konoha; generally, the whole concept of "personal space" was alien to Hashirama who was easily attracted to people - who, in turn, tended to be easily attracted to him. The only exception had been Madara who had been visibly reluctant to receive Hashirama's physical affections and who had made sure to keep a safe distance between him and the older Senju even in everyday situations.
Only days before Hashirama's engagement to Mito, Tobirama had returned from a mission to find his brother and Madara, both drunk in the garden behind the house. Hashirama's hand had been inside Madara's haori, and it was the first time Tobirama had heard the Uchiha moan. What exactly had been going on had never been properly explained to him, but the little sound that had escaped the Uchiha's lips that day had tormented Tobirama to the point that he had actually considered getting him drunk and seducing him, but before he had managed to carry out his plan, Madara had left the village, never to return.
This time, however, there was no escape for the Uchiha.
"I'm simply intrigued by how sensitive you really are."
Madara looked suspicious. "And you intend to use no other than a feather to find that out?"
Tobirama shrugged and twiddled the long, striped pheasant feather between his thumb and forefinger. "Why not? Your countenance will tell me precisely where your most, uh, delicate spots are, unless, of course, you're ready to cooperate and describe me exactly how you feel."
Madara snorted but did not reply.
Tobirama braced his left hand against the edge of the table and let the feather trail along Madara's chin and neck before moving down to stroke his chest and the lower regions of his abdomen, which made the Uchiha's expression shift between annoyance, irritation and even apprehension.
"This is plain silly."
"But you can feel it, right?"
"Yes."
"Would you prefer my bare hands, then?" Tobirama's fingers grazed the thin, dark hairs on Madara's legs, and this time, the man actually gasped.
The opportunity was too good to pass up.
He lowered the table, ignoring another skeptical glare from the Uchiha, then placed his knee between Madara's legs and bent down to run his fingertips gently along the man's legs and inner thighs before letting his thumb brush at Madara's penis from tip to hilt with excruciating care.
"Bad? Good?"
"Nothing."
However, the distracted look that had crept onto Madara's face was an evident proof that he did feel something.
And just seconds later Tobirama realized that the Uchiha was starting to get hard.
An erection? But how was that possible? There was no liquid blood left in that body, nothing that could've filled the erectile tissue and make the organ change in size.
Tobirama's hand covered it instantly.
Right. No pulse. No heat. Nothing that would've indicated the presence of blood.
"What... the hell do you think you're doing?" Madara whispered, and Tobirama loosened his hold, allowing the arousal to gradually take its full form.
"This shouldn't be happening. There is no physical basis to it anymore."
"But if I can move my muscles, then - "
Tobirama scoffed. "A penis has no muscular tissue in it. The erection is created by blood that fills the sponge-like structures within the organ, thus making it appear hard. But there isn't a drop of blood in you."
Madara's eyes widened. "If you dare to cut my cock for the sake of your absurd experiments, I will tear yours off as soon as I'll get my hands working again."
"You are unable to feel any pain, so I don't believe that would hurt you either."
Madara snarled. "But it would leave a permanent mental scar that I would carry with me into fucking eternity. Don't even think about it, Senju, and get your hand off before - "
"Before what?" Tobirama squeezed the arousal lightly, his thumb brushing at the tip, and Madara swallowed and shuddered visibly.
"... before you make me come," he huffed.
Tobirama raised a perplexed eyebrow. "Honestly, I don't think you can."
"Then why don't you try and explain what the hell is happening to me right now."
Madara's bewildered response took him completely off-guard.
"What do you mean?"
"My sensations... seem heightened... I..."
Small shivers filled in the gaps in Madara's breathless confession when Tobirama moved his hand, up and down, his grip still loose.
Watching Madara's eyes close and his hips and torso first tense and then relax made Tobirama's own breathing grow shallow as well. He was sure no one had ever seen the Uchiha quite this vulnerable before, and the fact that he - the Senju brother Madara had always despised for various reasons - was the one who had managed to do this to him was like a strange honor he was sure he would never forget.
There was no denying it any longer.
He wanted this man.
He wanted this man to respond to him, to acknowledge his existence, to see beyond the regrettable detail that he was the one who had delivered that final, fatal blow to Izuna.
"... your... dirty hand off me, you - " Madara panted, growling deep in his throat, but when Tobirama's grip tightened, he practically meowed, his fingernails scraping at the metal surface below.
Tobirama took his time to study the man's reactions and quickly learned that Madara liked it somewhat rough and very close the rim of the tip. As the pleasure began to build, the Uchiha parted his lips, licking them repeatedly, and glancing down, Tobirama could see that he also attempted to spread his thighs in a way that made it look like a lewd invitation, even though the subtle movement was most likely just a reflex.
"... you sick bastard Senju," Madara persisted, the tone of his voice notably less threatening now.
To the Uchiha's astonishment, Tobirama obeyed - but after several seconds of appraising the jutting organ before him, the Senju leaned forward and let it slide smoothly into his mouth.
"Tobirama - " Madara grunted before he stiffened.
And then he was coming.
There was no semen, which was expected yet oddly disappointing, but the expression on Madara's face, his intense gasps and the way his hips thrust forward and his testicles and muscles contracted left no doubt that he did, indeed, have an orgasm.
And a powerful one at that.
"I... will kill... you," Madara rasped, exasperated, and then, without prior warning, his body fluttered apart.
Tobirama - who had managed to pull back just in time - stared at the white-haired Kumo boy before him and wiped the saliva from the corners of his mouth on his sleeve. The nausea he expected to kick in never showed up; instead, he waited for a few minutes just to realize that his own erection was stubbornly refusing to dwindle. In the end, he gave in to his need, staggered away from the table, leaned his shoulder against the stone wall and masturbated, his orgasm almost painful, his moans loud and shameless.
He had to weaken the link between emotional responses and edo tensei collapse: after all, cleaning up every time after Madara became agitated was bound to get tiresome after a while. Luckily, he had used a permanent inscription instead of a removable talisman, so as long as the seal he'd placed on the back of the Kumo boy's head while he had still been alive remained intact, Tobirama was able to utilize his body over and over again and there was no need to go looking for new sacrifices.
It took him twenty hours of meticulous work to modify the seal without altering its actual core, and only minutes after he was done, Madara was once again lying on the examination table. The Uchiha did not seem too happy to see him, but at least he wasn't complaining.
And ever since that day, every test, every session always ended the same.
Watching Madara come was almost intoxicating. Forcing him to climax meant domination, and dominating an Uchiha as prestigious as Madara was something Tobirama just couldn't resist.
Initially, he rarely thought about his own pleasure until afterwards because observing the expressions on Madara's face and the reactions of his body were more than enough to hold his full attention. The profanities Madara kept spitting at him tended to distract him somewhat, but silencing the Uchiha with kisses was risky because Madara sure didn't hold back when he managed to sink his teeth into Tobirama's lip.
However, over time, as the Uchiha's protests began to grow weaker, Tobirama's kisses and touches grew bolder, and after Madara finally stopped trying to bite him viciously every time he tasted his mouth, Tobirama decided to take his game a significant step further.
The first time he came all over the Uchiha after rubbing their cocks together and feeling Madara shudder beneath him in his own nearly simultaneous climax felt like a victory. A grisly, terrifying victory, perhaps, but a victory nevertheless, especially when Madara - who in his post-orgasmic haze had fallen uncharacteristically silent - lifted his fingers to caress his sweaty arm briefly.
A sign of attachment, perhaps?
A captive's acknowledgement to his captor, an unspoken recognition of their shared moment of mutual gratification?
Analyzing the Uchiha's emotional status was pointless, but the obscurity of that tiny gesture bothered Tobirama for several days to come.
"How is that autopsy coming along?" Hashirama's voice was hoarse, his eyes devoid of life, and Tobirama cocked his head, questioning.
"Are you sure you're ready to hear the results quite yet?"
"I am as ready now as I ever will be. It's been a month already. Give me a briefing."
"I need to get my notes first. I hope you're not in a hurry - explaining it all might take a while."
Hashirama leaned back in his chair. "I'll be waiting."
Tobirama spend the rest of the afternoon describing him the medically significant procedures in detail, illustrating his findings with drawings and graphs, while Hashirama only asked him a few technical questions regarding the sharingan but never really showed any enthusiasm or even particular interest in his brother's scientific findings in general.
Once or twice during the day Tobirama felt a pang of remorse for what he had done behind his brother's back. After all, his brother's feelings towards Madara had always been undoubtedly pure while his own actions could only be described as rutting.
However, after the presentation was over, Hashirama's next question took Tobirama completely by surprise.
"Have you set the burial date yet?"
Tobirama's hands that had been busy sorting out his notes stilled. "I have plenty of blood and tissue samples I need to analyze, and - "
"Isn't that something you can save for later?"
"With the equipment we have today, I may need to collect more samples as I'm getting along. The storage space we have in that laboratory is too limited for my purposes."
Hashirama frowned. "Well, as soon as you have a date, please let me know."
Tobirama scratched his brow. "Of course, anija."
After leaving the hokage's office, Tobirama rummaged through the outdoor storage of their house before teleporting straight back into the laboratory where he cleared one corner of the room and spread on the floor an old, thick and dusty double futon that was - judging by its battered appearance - stained with generations' worth of Senju blood, drool and semen.
He then uncovered Madara who had been lying on the examination table since morning and looked somewhat dazed when Tobirama pulled the sheet off of him.
"What the hell is going on? Where have you been?"
"It's none of your business. But I've brought us something more comfortable to lie on."
"If you mean that futon, it's filthy. I can smell it from here."
"It will be much better than this metal table, believe me."
He hauled the Uchiha onto his shoulder, carried him across the floor and slumped him on the mattress before collapsing on top of him as the man had somehow managed to get a hold of his shirt and refused to let go.
Madara's hair spread around his head like a black halo, and Tobirama pressed his forehead against the Uchiha's, flashing him a wry smile before kissing him square on the lips.
"My brother wants your original body buried as soon as possible."
"Oh?"
"And even though you're no longer bound to its presence, I might still have some use for it later."
Madara huffed but did not avert his gaze when Tobirama stood up and pulled off his shirt and pants before rolling the helpless but unprotesting Uchiha over onto his stomach.
The planes of Madara's back felt smooth and reassuringly sound beneath his touch, and when Tobirama pressed his lips on the Uchiha's neck, the man scowled at him but at least he was finally playing along.
He raked his fingernails down along the Uchiha's spine and felt him shiver at the contact. The hours he'd spent in the wearisome company of his sullen brother had already pushed him to the limit, and because Madara did not usually care for an extended foreplay, Tobirama was probably more than welcome to take out his frustrations on him. So he reached out, dug a small bottle of unscented oil out of the pocket of his pants and shed a few drops of it unceremoniously into Madara's crack before smearing some onto himself as well.
However, the moment he thought he saw Madara's shoulders stiffen, he hesitated.
"No more games." Madara's voice was gruff, and he raised his head and looked back, his dark eyes filled with undecipherable emotion. "Don't be a wussy, little brother. Just do it."
Tobirama filled the Uchiha to the hilt.
He knew Madara couldn't possibly feel the pain caused by the hasty, unapologetic penetration, but he could see the muscles in the Uchiha's back and arms tense when he made his first tentative, crude efforts to move without actually coming right away.
Madara grunted, clutching at the mattress beneath him. "Harder."
"What?" Tobirama breathed, and Madara growled.
"I said harder."
"Give me a minute."
To Tobirama's relief, Madara agreed to stay quiet, just panting lightly until the Senju had regained control and was able to carry on.
Madara was tight, responsive, pleasantly vocal and undeniably willing, but he was also aggressive, easily frustrated and annoyingly outspoken after he decided his younger partner was incapable of responding to his needs. When Tobirama pulled him up to his knees to make it easier for himself to move, the Uchiha made several efforts to lift his left hand and arm until his patience ran out.
"Fuck - at least let me touch my - !"
Madara arched his back, his face hidden behind the thick veil of his hair, and Tobirama growled. There was no way he would allow the Uchiha move his arms at free will, but after a few more fierce but calculated thrusts he reached down to grab a hold of the man's straining cock.
To Tobirama's surprise, it took only a couple of harsh pulls, and Madara was coming, the muscles in his thighs flexing and his groans heady and unrestrained. The clenching of his sphincter soon flipped Tobirama over the edge, too, his own orgasm as sudden as it was violent, and he jerked his hips, spilling his semen deep into the panting and shuddering mockery of a man below him.
He lay flat on top of his silent partner for a long while, his face buried in Madara's hair until his body began to cool off and he had to pull out, roll over and cover himself with the hideously embroidered blanket he had also brought along and then forgotten on the floor.
"Next time, let me move my hands and arms," Madara grumbled, and Tobirama sneered.
"You still take me for an idiot, it seems."
"One hand, one arm. I wouldn't be able to do seals - I just want to get my goddamn release when I feel like it."
Tobirama rubbed his face with a sigh, then turned over to look at the Uchiha whose dark gaze was examining his features with overt curiosity. "What makes you think there will be a next time?"
"You're deprived, like a caged animal in heat. I've no idea why you're here in this barren, chilly cave fucking a dry, cold corpse when you could be out there in the arms of a warm, luscious woman, your dick deep in her wet, soft pussy. You may not be as good-looking as your brother, but I'm pretty certain that most women - and men, if that's your true preference - in this village wouldn't mind opening their legs for you, even if it was just for a one night stand."
Tobirama cocked an eyebrow. "So you find Hashirama handsome?"
"Your mother - she was from the Land of Wolves, right?"
Tobirama frowned. "What does that have to do with - ?"
"People in that country are rumored to have an exceptionally high libido. And I can tell you have inherited more than just your looks from her. You may live like a monk but there's a fire in you that you're constantly trying to put out or at least to repress by sheer will, and as we can both see, you're not entirely succeeding."
Tobirama's red eyes narrowed into mere slits. "Perhaps it's time I put you out for a while again."
"So much pent up anger," Madara said, his eyes half-mast and voice laced with complacency and more than a hint of contempt. "Anger, frustration, incestuous lust - "
Tobirama's hands moved swiftly, and Madara's body fluttered apart, exposing the Kumo boy whose peaceful expression calmed him down right away.
Madness.
It was all madness.
But as soon as he had dragged the boy's corpse back to the refrigerator and finished cleaning up the sooty mess left behind on the futon, he had to admit to himself that he missed the infuriating Uchiha already.
Ten days later, just as he had attached Madara securely on the metal rack by the wall to examine the rather peculiar structure of his edo tensei lungs, the door of the laboratory was slung open and someone - who, without a doubt, had deliberately been masking his chakra since entering the caves - walked straight inside before coming to an abrupt halt at the foot of the autopsy table.
"What on earth is going on?"
Hashirama's voice was tinged with disbelief, and Tobirama froze.
"He's been working on a very nasty piece of jutsu," Madara croaked and let out a short cackle that ended with a bout of violent coughing as the gaping wound the younger Senju had just incised on his chest began to flutter close.
There was a moment of ominous silence before Tobirama dared a glance over his shoulder.
The expression on his brother's face was something he had hoped he would never have to see.
Bewilderment.
Disgust.
And, gradually, horror.
"Is he - are you alive?" Hashirama took a tentative step forward, his eyes shifting from Tobirama to Madara and back.
"Am I?" Madara turned his gaze at Tobirama who put down his scalpel just in time before the room began to spin in his eyes.
"No," he uttered at last, "you're still as dead as a stone. But that foul chakra of yours - "
Hashirama rushed past his brother before he managed to finish his sentence.
Madara winced when the older Senju buried his fingers in his hair and his face in his neck.
"Anija," Tobirama whispered and tried to pry Hashirama away, but the man wrenched himself free from his grip and shoved him against the stone wall roughly before pressing his forehead against the Uchiha's collarbone, his fingers grasping at Madara's rigid shoulders and spread arms.
"I told you to be more careful," Madara hissed, his words directed at Tobirama who could tell that the situation was something the Uchiha had not been looking forward to either.
"How long has this atrocity been going on?" Hashirama sounded breathless, and Tobirama could feel cold sweat form on his brow.
"Does it matter? I did it for the village, brother. I wanted to - "
"If you have no intention to answer my question, you may as well be quiet."
"But I - "
"Quiet!"
Tobirama had never heard Hashirama use that tone before. Not with him, not with anyone.
And it was a tone that made a chill run down his spine.
It was only then that Hashirama seemed to realize that Madara was naked, and he leaned back a bit, examining him up and down with a deep frown before wrapping his arms around the Uchiha and pulling his body firmly against his own.
Tobirama swore silently to himself when he heard Hashirama whisper in Madara's ear. He could only make out a hushed word or two, but as he watched the expression on Madara's face darken as the seconds ticked by, his own fury and frustration began swell up in his gut as well, and he cursed his own pathetic state when faced with his brother's obstinacy.
"Stop it," Madara muttered at last, his gaze firmly fixed on the opposite wall. "Stop it. It's too late. It's over."
"Madara - just listen - "
"No. You should allow me some dignity and let me rot in peace. There's nothing I can say to you that I didn't already say at the Naka shrine before I left the village. I still feel that way. Go back to your precious villagers. Get out of here and see if you can maintain the utopia you've been fantasizing about ever since we were kids."
Hashirama's breath hitched - and then he did something that took both Tobirama and Madara by total surprise.
He grabbed the Uchiha by his face and crushed his mouth against his in a clumsy imitation of a kiss that was undoubtedly more driven by desperation rather than genuine passion. Nevertheless, Tobirama could see Madara's eyes close at the contact, but only briefly.
As soon as they parted again, Madara turned his head and licked his lips, his breathing mere shuddering gasps now.
"You just kissed a corpse."
"But - "
"You just kissed a fucking corpse! Why don't you come back to your senses, Hashirama! It's over, I'm dead, what you see here is your brother's macabre jutsu that brought me back on borrowed time. None of this is real! Now get off me and get out! Go back to your wife! Get out!"
The unveiled despair in Madara's voice made Tobirama's stomach turn, and he struggled to keep his emotions under control when his brother finally pushed himself away from the man, swaying on his feet slightly before turning around and stepping away from Madara who was starting to flake.
However, before leaving the room, Hashirama took a hold of the door frame and cleared his throat, not looking back.
"I want him buried and the jutsu expelled as soon as possible."
Tobirama's hands clenched into fists. "I understand."
They lay side by side in the darkness, Tobirama sweaty and out of breath from their copulation, Madara pensive and unmoving, until the Senju felt the Uchiha turn laboriously over to his side and lay his now only partially seal-bound hand on his chest.
"Are you going to defy his wishes? You could simply dispose of my real body, after all."
Tobirama groaned. "No. I've dragged this on long enough."
"So this is it, then."
"Yes. This is it."
"Good. I can finally move on."
With the plan.
Tobirama's eyes widened when he heard those three words clearly in his head. It sounded almost as if his own mind had completed Madara's sentence, but there was no way to be sure of anything anymore.
"Kiss me." Madara's fingers dug into his skin weakly, and Tobirama obliged, pressing his mouth against the Uchiha's and tasting his lips languidly until he felt Madara's cool, slick tongue in his mouth.
"What are you - ?"
"Just this once," Madara murmured. "Let me - take you - before I go."
Without a moment's hesitation, Tobirama agreed.
He doubted whether the Uchiha would be able to make him climax again, but feeling his solid weight between his thighs, his deep, concentrated, relentless thrusts, his cool, heavy pants against his overheated skin soon proved his downfall. Madara's fingers curled around his neck, too weak to actually hurt him but strong enough to partially obstruct his breathing and thus heighten his sensations, and when Tobirama's semen finally splattered across the Uchiha's chest and stomach, he was gasping for air and drifting on the verge of consciousness.
"Watch your back, Senju," Madara whispered, his lips brushing against Tobirama's as he spoke, "because I will kill you. Eventually."
For a heartbeat or two Tobirama imagined he could see something red gleam in Madara's eyes, and then the Uchiha shuddered and groaned when he found his release, too.
The next morning, he woke up with Madara still half on top of him and Hashirama standing motionless at the laboratory doorway. However, in spite of his evident shock, his brother regarded their naked forms wordlessly for quite some time before closing the door behind him and walking away.
He fully assumed Madara to make fun of the mortifying situation, but much to his surprise, the man just raised his head, looked him solemnly in the eyes and then kissed him good morning - and goodbye.
He spent three whole days just preparing the seals that would ensure that no one was going to get in - or out of - the casket Madara was to be interred in. Keeping the body too close to Konoha would've been a considerable security risk, so he picked a spot not far from the Valley of the End, prepared a small chamber underground and delivered the casket there by using hiraishin.
But first, Tobirama buried the Kumo ninja, the unfortunate boy who had given his life for his experiments.
He wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel when he looked at the young man he had placed in a small coffin. Sometimes, especially when tossing and turning in his bed at night, he found himself pondering whether the vessel had actually had an effect on Madara's preferences and to what degree. Would the ferocious Uchiha - in spite of his numerous death threats - really have willingly embraced Tobirama, if not for his vessel? What if Madara's wanton behavior had only been a reflection of the Kumo boy's own sexual orientation?
He should have been more careful. He should have spent more time in observing and analyzing Madara's actions instead of just toying with him and, eventually, fucking him night in, night out like a reckless, insatiable teenager.
Looking at Madara's original stitch-covered corpse disgusted him now, and he fully understood why Hashirama firmly refused to see the Uchiha anymore. Even when paralyzed, the edo tensei had retained a distinct aura of dignity, whereas the corpse was just an empty shell, mere organic waste that was already in an artificially slowed down process of decay, and Tobirama could no longer comprehend his earlier obsession to preserve it.
All he felt was relief when he could finally lay the Uchiha in the casket, shut the lid, attach the straps and perform the seals.
There was no need for a moment of silence like the one he had granted the Kumo boy deep within the Hokage Mountain.
There was no need for impassioned words or goodbyes.
After marking the spot with a small rock, Tobirama returned to Konoha, cleaned up the laboratory and began to work on the samples he had collected during the initial autopsy.
"I want you to write down everything you did and hand over the notes to me. If you ever even try to use that jutsu again, I will personally cast you out of this village. Do I make myself clear?"
Tobirama nodded.
"Jutsus like that will have to remain forbidden now and in the future. It would be a disgrace, having spirits of the dead fighting wars for us, let alone sacrificing living people for it. You do understand that, don't you, brother?"
"Yes, I do."
Hashirama examined his impassive sibling with a frown. "Do you even regret what you have done?"
Tobirama's jaw tightened. "No, I do not."
"How many times did you... lay with him?" Hashirama had difficulties getting the rest of the sentence out of his mouth, and Tobirama swallowed when a memory of Madara's body on top of him flashed before his eyes.
"I lost count."
Hashirama leaned back in his chair, speechless and visibly appalled.
As much as Tobirama loved his brother, Hashirama's hypocrisy and denial made the blood boil in his veins, and he had to close his eyes to remain his composure before his brother's disapproving glare.
You're just jealous, brother. Jealous because I got to embrace the man you loved. Jealous because even after returning from death, he still rejected you.
"You may leave now. I want that scroll on my desk by tomorrow." Hashirama turned his gaze away.
Tobirama strode out of the office without a word.
Less than ten years after Hashirama's death, he and his team were patrolling near the Valley of the End when Hiruzen literally stumbled on the rock under which the Uchiha had been resting ever since the experiments had been finished. After leading his young, nosy team securely away from the site, Tobirama teleported underground, lit the two large candles by the wall and found the burial chamber more or less in its original state.
There was a thin layer of fine sand on top of the casket and on the floor - it had no doubt seeped in through the small cracks between the tiles he had used to enforce the walls of the chamber - and all the seals and straps appeared to be perfectly intact.
However, there was something about the room that struck him wrong, something that prevented him from leaving right away. It was a troubled feeling, something that alerted him to take a closer look at the container, and he wondered if he was simply driven by his tendency to suspicion or perhaps even some twisted sense of nostalgia.
He braced his hands on the casket, deep in his thoughts for a few minutes before moving over to release the straps and finally the seals, too.
He had never seriously considered going against his brother's will after the incident with the Uchiha, even though after his brother's death, he had once had a vivid nightmare about using the technique to bring Hashirama back just for the sake of keeping Konoha safe when the Second Shinobi World War had finally broken out in full force.
The lid felt heavier now than it had back in that day when he had closed it in order to never open it again, and Tobirama had to use his whole body to slide it off the casket and rotate it to the side without dropping it to the ground.
He was mentally fully prepared to see Madara, still in his clothes, most likely partially decomposed or even mummified, and he peeked in, curious to inspect the state the corpse was currently in.
Tobirama blinked once, twice, then straightened his back and closed his eyes for a few seconds before peering into the casket again.
It was empty.
He immediately fell down to his knees next to it and pressed his happuri-covered forehead against its side as his fingers held on to the edge of the casket and his mind was flooded with questions.
Perhaps he was trapped in an advanced genjutsu? The possibility was there, yet it was highly unlikely. Especially now, after the intensive training he had gone through with Kagami over the past six months, Tobirama should have spotted it straight away.
Had the corpse been stolen? The seals had not been tampered with, and there was nothing that would've indicated that the casket would've been forced open by an intruder.
Maybe the corpse had been a bunshin all along? He found it hard to believe that any clone would've been able to outlast such an invasive autopsy. Then again, there was no way Madara could've been alive during the tests; otherwise, the edo tensei no jutsu would simply not have worked.
He gasped, struggling to keep his pulse down and his insistently upwelling tears at bay.
He had been fooled - but how, he couldn't tell.
The only way to find out whether Madara was currently dead or alive would have been to try and summon him once more, but even now, Tobirama could hear his brother's accusing voice ringing in his ears.
Do you even regret what you have done?
He could sense his team's chakra signals nearby, and he knew they were probably looking for him, concerned by their sensei's sudden disappearance.
If, against all probability, Madara was still alive, there was no evidence to suggest that he had been anywhere near Konoha after Tobirama had teleported his remains away from the village more than twenty years earlier. From that point of view, the Uchiha was no longer a threat, and it was what mattered to Tobirama the most.
There was no need to make it personal.
There was no need to get emotional.
So after wiping the corners of his eyes with his sleeve, he stumbled up to his feet, took a deep breath and, just in case, closed the lid of the casket, reattached the straps and activated the seals before leaving the chamber.
Hiruzen was notably relieved to see him again, and Tobirama ruffled the young man's hair affectionately while doing his best to resist the dangerous lure of Kagami's questioning sharingan.
The Era of the Founders had come to an end, and in time, it would be Tobirama's turn to pass on the torch to his team as well.
However, eventually, it happened sooner than he had expected: less than forty-eight hours later, he followed his brother to the netherworld.
The Uchiha came to a halt next to Tobirama, never looking back at Sasuke who was now lying in a slowly expanding puddle of blood on the ground, unmoving.
"Where was I again? Oh yes. Those Kumo shinobi to whom you sacrificed yourself so willingly - who do you think could've provided them with detailed descriptions of all your nature types and techniques as well as instructions on to how to prepare a flawless poison that could beat every single antidote you and your medical team were developing at the time you brought me back?"
Tobirama's eyes narrowed in disdain. "You sick bastard."
"Takes one to know one. But you never even had a clue that when you used your pathetic technique on me, you failed to suppress my sharingan completely, so none of your secrets were safe from me. And now I'm alive, and soon I will become the next juubi jinchuuriki, while you will still be just another corpse. An animated one, perhaps, but a corpse nevertheless. Your shameful state won't even allow you to break out of your own jutsu."
"Corpse or not, I won't be hesitating to put you down like your late brother."
Tobirama could practically hear Madara grit his teeth.
"And I will come up with a way to get rid of you without your master's consent sooner or later. Until then, I better make sure you won't be going anywhere."
Yet another stave, and it was thrust in between Tobirama's buttocks, but once again, the only sting he felt was to his pride.
"No hard feelings?" Madara squatted down and carefully removed the two halves of Tobirama's cracked face protector, then brushed back some of his hair, the touch of his fingers almost gentle.
Tobirama grunted. "If you had been more eager to pierce my brother's arse back when he was still alive, this whole mess could've been avoided."
Madara's sole eye widened, but then Tobirama could see the corners of his mouth twitch.
"You're probably right. And he might've actually let me do him, too."
"There isn't a shadow of a doubt in my mind."
"Tell me one thing, though." Madara's hand was still in Tobirama's hair, his grip light. "Did he ever have a male lover in his life?"
"Not as far as I know of. Even that Uzumaki woman... There was companionship for sure, but - "
"But the only one he ever loved was me. Which must've pissed you off greatly."
"I did get over it eventually." Tobirama stared at his brother's expressionless face that protruded from the Uchiha's bare chest, and Madara chuckled.
"Yes, I know you did."
There was a moment of intense silence until Madara yanked Tobirama's face up by the hair, his warm breath fanning the Senju's forehead before his bloodied, moist lips settled firmly against the only remaining patch of intact skin next to the jutting black stake. A few fleeting seconds later, he broke the contact, pulled back and stood up, the black mane of his hair flying in the wind like a ragged flag.
"You keep rattling on about the glory of pain," Tobirama rasped, "but we both know you're more inclined to pleasure."
Madara cocked his head, and his rinnegan glinted. "It's a pity I have no time to enjoy your excuse of a body much longer, then."
Tobirama snorted. "A pity indeed."
A nonexistent heartbeat later, the Uchiha was gone.
Tobirama closed his eyes briefly until he remembered the brave but imbecile boy who was bleeding to death just ten meters away.
"Damn you Uchihas," he hissed. "Damn you all to hell."
And yet somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind, he knew that in one way or another, he was probably going to wind up in the same place with that megalomaniac again.
Not that it bothered him much.
In fact, now that he thought about it -
- he was quite looking forward to it.