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Hashirama stared grimly at his own reflection and wished the gentle waves of the river would reach out to swallow him. The redness from his face and neck refused to disappear, but what was worse, he was still hard as rock. He felt repulsed by his body's reactions, especially as it wasn't the first time it happened.

What the hell was wrong with him? It wasn't as if he made a habit of lusting after young boys. He thought he put this whole thing behind him when he'd been Madara's age. He found it shameful enough even when he was an adolescent, getting a hard-on if he recalled one of his friends' naked body he glimpsed in the onsen, or if it happened to him during practice or playful wrestling. He thought he was over it... at least if he looked at or fantasized about someone nowadays who he shouldn't, it was about men, not... children.

And Madara was that, or at the very best, stuck somewhere between childhood charm and the gracefulness that would surely be typical of him when he grew up. A teen, without any idea who he was befriending... and the least of that was his origin. Wasn't Hashirama a monster for this, for waving all kinds of dirty fantasies about his friend's young, lithe body, his black, beautiful eyes, his lips that appeared so temptingly soft...And if he was doing it only when lying alone at nights! But no, he did it at times like these as well, when they were together, when supposedly he was training with the boy for his own safety, for him to become stronger and to be able to defend himself. He thought he was a better man than this, but his body's reactions told otherwise.

A soft splash behind his back signalled that Madara stepped into the river as well. Hashirama washed his face one more time before straightening up, thankful for the loose trousers he was wearing as it hid what needed to be hidden. He turned back and unconsciously smiled at the disdainful face the boy made - the Uchiha loved to hide his feelings behind such a mask, unknowing that Hashirama found it charming. By now he knew him enough to know when he was feeling insecure, no matter what false expression he wore. He was an exceptionally powerful shinobi despite his tender age, but in many aspects his young friend was vulnerable. Quite probably he hurt his feelings as he didn't know what to make of Hashirama leaving him like that suddenly.

"You don't mind if we finish for today, do you? I'm worn out."

Madara just shrugged his shoulders moodily, prodding the pebbles of the riverbed with his naked toes. The warm July sun, the taxing practice and the previous flounce made him sweaty as well, tempting Hashirama to suggest him to take off his shirt and wash himself down. But he already knew the boy to be rather shy, not to mention that would be just a bit too much strain on his willpower as well. So, though he wouldn't have minded cooling off his own body either, he rather just turned up the legs of his trousers, sat down on the bank to dangle his feet into the water. After some hesitation Madara did the same.

It was so pleasant spending time like this - shamefully much more pleasant than dealing with all the issues of his clan, leading the battles or healing the injured ones. Just one more reason to feel twinges of conscience... he would need to put an end to these meetings, nothing good could come out of them...But he knew he'd be too weak to do so. When he was with Madara he felt he entered another, carefree life.

"Hashirama?"

"Yes?"

"Then see you next time here, right?" the boy obviously aimed to sound uncaring, but failed at it. The Senju couldn't help but smile.

"Of course. But I expect you to defeat me then."

"I will!"

*/*/*

Madara swore quietly as he dragged off his soggy pants he wore for sleeping. Not this again...of course it happened from time to time, but to wake for this every night... Now he had to wash his trousers again in secret as he would have died of shame if his mother found it like this.

He didn't use to remember those dreams, only some vague, pleasant feeling remained in him after waking. But tonight was the fourth in a row when he dreamt about Hashirama and woke to find a tell-tale spot on his pants above his groin, or, and this was in many aspects even worse, that he was on the brink of orgasm and he just couldn't hold it back…

He wished if one of his older brothers were still alive, so he could ask for some advice. Of course it was selfish to wish it for such reason, but he desperately wanted someone to reassure him that these were just dreams, they didn't mean anything really and that he wasn't some freak for having them. He couldn't talk about this with his parents and Izuna was too young and wouldn't understand.

But even if he had someone to talk to, he couldn't tell who he was dreaming about. A stranger, someone whose last name he didn't know, an adult over twenty, when he'd only turn fifteen this winter and to make it even worse, a man. Why it had to be him of all people, why it had to happen to him? When he heard older boys gossiping, it was always about breasts and thighs of girls they whispered about. No mentions were made of battle-toned, hard muscles, strong hands or wide shoulders – the things he fantasised about even awake.

He kept thinking about it, making it impossible to concentrate on anything else. His father scolded him when he made mistakes during practice – something he never did – and that of course made him feel even more miserable. This couldn't go on like this, he decided. He didn't know what Hashirama had done to him, but it was obviously his fault. When they met next time, he'd make him pay for it. He'd deserve it, it was due time for revenge, for the way he just refused to be defeated and for invading his most private thoughts. Until then it was the best if he excluded him from his mind.

Despite his decision, most nights he continued to have the dreams.

He arrived in very low spirits to their next meeting. Hashirama wasn't there yet as usual, no, Madara actually had to wait so much that he thought he wouldn't come at all. This was the worst, not knowing what could have happened to him. Was he injured in a fight or did he die in one? Maybe he simply got bored of Madara… Maybe it had something to do with his dreams? It was ridiculous to think that of course, it wasn't as if he was such a waste of shinobi that he couldn't conceal his thoughts and emotions, but he had too much time while waiting for him, and his worries and doubts kept gnawing him.

When he sensed his presence he felt relieved for the barest of moment, before his anger bubbled to the surface. He picked up a sharp little stone and threw it straight at the man's temple when he got close enough, though of course Hashirama easily caught it.

"Is this your new tactic for defeating me?"

"Where the hell have you been?" Madara snarled, feeling so furious that he could hardly resist drawing his blades and attack the man. "I won't wait for you next time, I have better things to do!"

Hashirama stepped close to him and the boy felt his questioning eyes boring into him. He set his chin up and looked defiantly back up him, making sure his face didn't betray him. He was aware of the slightest of flush on his cheeks, but that was just his anger's doing, nothing else, nothing else at all. What was he thinking, he fumed. What a stupid thing, to be worried about him. Probably it would have been better if he didn't come at all, at least Madara could be rid of these disgusting dreams and disturbing desires…

Still, when the man put his hand on his shoulder he couldn't bring himself to shake it off.

"I'm sorry. Something happened, at home, with my clan, that's why I couldn't come sooner."

"I don't care," he felt it was a childish response, but what else could he say? He should not care where he was after all. They never talked about their clans, he'd no idea what Hashirama's role there was. Maybe he was with his family – after all he was old enough to have a wife and maybe kids of his own, wasn't he? Madara grimaced at the thought and he asked his question way more demanding than he intended. "Do you have somebody?!"

"What do you mean?" the tall shinobi pulled his hand back with a confused expression.

"A wife. Girlfriend…" children, anyone who's more important than me. That last part of course he didn't say out loud.

"I don't!" he grinned as if the Uchiha asked something funny and Madara's hand twitched with the urge to slap him. How dare he laugh at him? "I really have plenty of time yet to…"

"You're twenty-three, aren't you?" he spat. "My father had two sons already at your age."

"Now I feel like some old man," Hashirama seemed uncomfortable as he looked sideways and scratched his nape. This time Madara resisted rubbing in that he was. Suddenly he didn't feel like pressing this topic any further.

"I don't feel like practicing today," he quickly changed the subject instead. "And we wouldn't really have the time anyway, you were so late." He sat down with his back against a tree trunk in the cool shadows of the canopy and the man followed him. He didn't want to question him or take revenge on him any longer. Though his fury was blazing minutes ago, the calmness that always took over him here at the riverbank was now smoothing out his jumbled emotions. It was the magic of this place, the little island of peace in the ocean of war and chaos that always appeared when he was with Hashirama. He was relieved that his friend did come to meet him after all. He just realized how tense he'd been, afraid that he wouldn't, for whatever reason. He yawned a jaw-cracking yawn and tried, without much success to find a more comfortable position. The summer heat made him so sleepy. As he fidgeted, he started to lean against Hashirama more and more, but there wasn't anything wrong in that, after all. He'd touched him plenty of times before, during their trainings or for no reason at all… He smiled and burrowed even closer, already half asleep. He could afford half an hour rest, really. He'd been very tense these past few days, but Hashirama made him relax, the gods knew how he did it. It was comforting to have him by his side. He smelt nice, like a forest at summer...

He woke to Hashirama calling his name softly. As he opened his eyes he noticed the sun was already setting, it was due time to head home. He stretched out lazily, realizing only afterwards that he was lying with his head resting in his friend's lap. He squinted up at him before quickly turning his glance away. How humiliating. He wanted to sit up quickly, but Hashirama's hand on his hair stopped him, as he run it through his always tangled locks. That made Madara relax instantly – his touch felt so nice, the way he caressed gently not just his hair, but his face and temple as well. Sleepy as he still was, it took a good minute to sink in what an improper position he was in. He opened his eyes again – Hashirama was looking at him with some strange, unfathomable expression that made the teen feel hot from his head to toes. He flushed red in embarrassment, though he didn't even understand why.

"I think…" he had to clear his suddenly dry throat so he could continue, "I think I have to go home now." He sat up quickly and turned around, to say his goodbyes and dash off before he did something idiotic. His breath caught as Hashirama leaned in very close. He was still looking at him with that intense gaze that all but hypnotized the teen… Their foreheads almost touched, he could see from so close up how the dark brown irises of the man were marked by lighter spots… Hashirama raised one of his warm palms and pressed it to Madara's face, caressing his jawline with his thumb… then their lips brushed. Unconsciously, the boy opened his mouth to gasp in air and the other took advantage of it and kissed him – really kissed him, not just pressed mouth against mouth in a childish gesture as the Uchiha saw others of his age do, but pushed his tongue deep into his mouth, making him so embarrassed that he just couldn't decide what to do. He wanted to shove him away, but all he managed was a weak moan. His prick stiffened so quickly, it was downright painful how hard it got, rubbing against the inside of his pants in a most uncomfortable way. He felt so ashamed about it, he wished the earth would open up and swallow him. He should have protested, what protested, he should have cut Hashirama's throat for doing this. But he only felt deep disappointment when the kiss ended.

His friend pulled back and he just gawked at him, at loss for words. He just didn't know what to do, he was not prepared for such a thing happening. In the end he decided if the man tried to kiss him again, he wouldn't let himself – if only he would try again finally and not just stare at him…

"Forgive me," Hashirama said at long last. "I shouldn't have done this. I didn't want to…"

Madara felt as if a bucket of cold water was tipped on his head supplely. He didn't want to…

"If you didn't want to, WHY DID YOU DO IT?" quiet as the beginning of the sentence was, the last few words he shouted angrily. He jumped up to run away, as he felt he just couldn't stay with him a moment longer. But he didn't get too far before strong arms caught him from behind and he was pulled flush against Hashirama's muscled chest. He kicked his shin for good measure as hard as he could, but the other must have noticed he wasn't really struggling to get free.

Hashirama held him tight and he leaned back against him after a while. His face must have been red as the setting sun from the shame and excitement he felt. They stood like this for a while, before the man planted a kiss on the top of his head and turned him to face him. When Madara tried to hide his face behind his hair, he gently took hold of his chin and raised it, until he had no choice but to look at him.

"I phrased that wrong. It is something I want – but I shouldn't have done it."

He smoothed out a lock that fallen before Madara's eyes, and he just couldn't resist rubbing his cheek against his hand. After a moment of obvious hesitation, Hashirama pulled him close again and that felt so good. What was happening to him? Why was he letting it happen? No matter that he knew how wrong it was, he downright melted when he felt those lips he loved to see smile at him press against his face, his neck. He clamped his mouth shut on a whimper that wanted to escape as the man's palm caressed a path down his spine to grasp his buttocks just a bit roughly. Madara raised his arm to embrace his neck, though he had to stand on his tiptoes to be able to do that, so their bodies pressed together even closer. He looked into the eyes of his friend and his breath caught at all those emotions that swirled in them. He couldn't quite place them, they scared him, but pleased him at the same time. His own, contradictory feelings paralyzed him. His hard-on woke up again, or maybe it never went away at all, and it was now pressing against Hashirama's thigh, and he surely noticed it… He hid his red face in the crook of the other's neck just for a second, then chided himself for showing weakness, so raised it again, narrowing his eyes in the best show of anger he could manage.

"Madara…" Hashirama's voice was hoarse and he was just as flushed as the boy was, compensating the Uchiha somewhat for the nervous embarrassment he felt. "You have to go home now, before… before it's too late. So they won't worry for you. We'll talk about this next time, alright?" Before Madara could have become affronted at being sent away so, he dipped his head down and kissed him, deeply enough to make the boy dizzy.

He walked home with mind over-swarming with thoughts. He just had no clue what he should do now.

TBC…