A\N: Not much to say here, except that writing descriptive erotic scenes, without ending up with something vulgar, is a lot harder that I thought.

Pleasurable Shame

Madara walked in silently. The house was dark and silent, what meant that everyone was already resting. As a perfect shinobi, being quiet wasn't a challenge, but it was unnecessary. After all, this was his house, he thought frowning his nose. Stupid Senju, delaying him.

Silent like a shadow, he worked his way around the house, reaching for the hallways that lead to his room. Grumbling about how interfering the Senju could be, he noticed a small light tremble in the corridor that lead to the guest rooms. Following the light, Madara glanced inside, through a crack in the door.

Naomi was undressing, kneeling in the futon, her back to the door. As his eyes landed upon the scene, Madara was assaulted by a deep feeling of guilt, but at the same time, he couldn't stop himself from looking. It was erotically hypnotizing.

With fluid movements, Naomi untied her obi and let the dark blue winter kimono slid across her thin shoulders. She reached for her hair pin, releasing her midnight black hair that run straight towards her small waist.

Madara breath started to become heavier, in rhythm with his increasing heartbeat. He knew, that this wasn't acceptable, and if he got caught, his father wouldn't hold himself back regarding the punishment. Also, and despite the way he had been behaving during the night, he hold Naomi's friendship dear, and couldn't imagine her reaction, if she found out he had been watching her undress. Sure, it had been an accident, the first glance inside the room, but he hadn't left. He had tried, although; his brain wasn't complying. Sighing and disregarding all cautionary thinking, he accepted his body momentarily inability to move, and got a little closer to the screen door.

She reached for the vase with hot water, complementary in every Uchiha guest room, flashing Madara her smooth lower back and the hem of the black cotton tights that were wore underneath the kimono. Pulling her hair to the side, she started passing a soaked towel around her neck, sighing contently, unaware of the unwise audience. The only candle in the room lent her pale skin a golden touch.

Madara swallowed. He needed to get out of there soon, as something was burning hard in his lower abdomen. He was no longer a twelve year old boy with privacy issues, he knew all too well what that ablaze sensation meant. Slowly, his hand drifted below the waist, feeling his erection, and unconsciously stroking it. As a pleasurable feeling washed over him, he looked down, and realized he wouldn't be able to conceal his growing lust, and if he got caught, he believed himself to be unable to find a plausible it-was-an-accident kind of excuse.

A sigh came from the room, making Madara shift his attention again. Naomi had reached for a dark haori, marked with the Uchiha crest. As it slid up her arms, Madara recognized it as one of his own old haoris, one that didn't fit him anymore. It was too long for her, wrapping loosely around her slender frame, but that, somehow, ignited a strange feeling in his chest, at the same time something else pulsed in his hand, down below.

Suddenly, he listen the whispering sound of a slide door opening, and an unmistakable yawn. Izuna was, for some Kami forsaken reason, coming out of his room, and he could sense through the wooden floor, that his little Otouto was approaching. Gathering himself together, Madara fled towards the kitchen and pretend to reached for a cup of water, leaning against the sink, so he was able to conceal his still painfully obvious erection.

"Aniki? What are you doing here?" Izuna's sleepy voice came from behind him.

"I just came for some water" he didn't turn himself to face Izuna. Instead, he stood still against the sink.

"Me too. You know, we should have water in our rooms too, so we don't have to come here. It's cold." Izuna mumbled, also leaning against the sink, trying to fill himself a cup "aren't you cold Nii-san?"

"I am. And that's why I'm going to bed. You should do the same" Madara took advantage of his brother sleep-walking state of mind and left. He didn't stop in the way or looked to the sides, desirous to get to his room and calm himself down.

He closed his door and leaned against it trying to relax the tense muscles. The adrenaline rushed through his veins with the frightful sensation of almost getting caught by Izuna peeking at theirs guest and pleasuring himself in the hallway. And, as if it wasn't bad enough, he felt shame and guilt threatening to take over his mind, ready to judge him harshly.

"What was I thinking?" He could answer himself that. He wasn't. At least not with his usual head. They had been friends since they were no older than two, how could he feel attracted to her like that? But she is not a child anymore, challenged some perverted voice in his mind, and, definitely, neither was he.

Ignoring the voice, he stripped of his standard Uchiha attire and laid in his futon. He was feeling calmer now. After all, Uchiha Madara, he thought while pulling the sheets over, would not curve to lustful desires just like that.

He closed his eyes and tried to find the predictable path of sleep, but as he let his mind lose, it chose to show him, instead, the iron marked, image of her skin glowing in the candle light, black hair falling around her neck, thick eyelashes hiding her blue sky colored eyes…

As he remembered a drop of water that had ran down her shoulder, his hand had moved past the sheets and was lingering at his waistline. There was a moment of hesitation, an aggressive fight between guilt and lust, before his fingers crawl below, grabbing his erected member. Slowly, he gave in, and started stroking himself, breathing heavily. A low groan escaped his lips, as he smelled her perfume in his memories, and his mind make up options to where that drop of water may have gone. He swallows, as the muscles in his groin and stomach start to coil, his hand tighter, moving faster, around his hard, leaking length. The tension was becoming uncontrollable, his flanks shaking with the intense pleasure as it came in one weakening wave, shuddering Madara to the core, eyes shut tight, as a moaned hiss escaped his clenched teeth. He relaxed, his eyes still closed, breathing growing steady as he felt the last shivers left his body. A warm, blissful sensation had taken over him, and he started feeling sleepy, his mind delightfully blank.

Madara rolled over, getting comfortable to sleep, until noticing his hand still covered in cum. And so were the sheets. Grumbling against his lack of self control, he got clean sheets and cleaned his hand in the dirty ones. No servant would ever have the courage to ask why his sheets were so sticky.