Chapter 16: Acting on Regrets
"Madara… do you love someone?"
Madara's eyes slightly gaped; he wasn't expecting that question at all. He slightly parted his lips to speak, but nothing came out. Truth is, he does love someone, and that someone was Hashirama. But he could never say it. He will never say it. What good will come from saying it when he knew what his fate was? Apart from Hashirama, he loved no one. Well, no one who was alive anyway. All of his loved ones were gone… taken away from him by the cruelty of war and the accursed world.
"All my loved ones are dead," Madara finally responded coldly as he lowered his eyes to the last onigiri sitting in front of him.
Madara's words triggered a chilling silence between the two. Hashirama instantly regretted asking the question, worried that he might've brought up haunting memories for Madara. Yet, a feeling of shame also overtook Hashirama when he felt a bit upset that Madara didn't mention him. How could I be so selfish? Hashirama thought.
"Do you… want to talk about it?" Hashirama asked cautiously.
"What is there to talk about?" Madara asked, almost a little too harshly, as he grabbed the last onigiri and took a bite.
"S-Sorry, I just… I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories, so if you wanted to talk—"
"I'm fine."
And there he goes, doing it again. Deflecting. Refusing to open up. This killed Hashirama on the inside. He just wanted to be there for Madara, so why won't Madara let him? "As your friend, I'm always here to—"
"As my friend, you can stop pressing me. I told you, I'm fine."
"I can tell you're hurting, Madara. Let me be here for you."
"There's nothing to be there for. All there is to do is keep moving forward."
Moving forward. Hashirama swallowed, fiddling with his thumbs. "And what does moving forward mean to you?" Hashirama asked curiously. The thought of 'moving forward' has been on Hashirama's mind a lot lately. It was an interesting coincidence that Madara brought it up.
Madara took another bite of his onigiri. "Pursuing my dream."
Hashirama slightly tilted his head. "Your dream… of… true peace?"
"Exactly," Madara smirked. That's all Madara felt like he had left, reliably. He could lean on this dream and achieve his purpose, so it made his pain feel a little less harsh. It was a spark of hope that kept him going. A reminder that his life still had meaning. Yet, why hasn't he left the village? Madara cursed in his head. He knew why. But tonight, he was hardening his resolve and leaving for real this time, for good.
Hashirama thought back to their time together on the stone hill a few weeks ago. He recalled the moment Madara told him he had found the answer to true peace before bursting into an almost menacing chuckle, which was unsettling to Hashirama. "You know… you never really did tell me what the answer was, the answer that you found to true peace. What was it? What are you planning?" Hashirama asked.
Madara turned his head. "That's none of your business," he remarked as he took another bite of his rice ball, leaving only a small piece left.
Hashirama sighed. He couldn't help but have an uneasy feeling about this. As much as he didn't want to assume anything bad, like Tobirama and Isamu Uchiha were doing, he admittedly couldn't completely rule it out. Why wasn't Madara telling him what he had planned? Of course, Hashirama himself also wanted to achieve true peace. It was a dream Madara and he shared when they were kids, and uniting multiple clans and spearheading the start of Shinobi villages was the first step. He would love to keep working towards this goal with Madara, but it felt like Madara was at risk of straying away from the righteous path.
"Madara… you know I don't want to assume, but I hope you're not up to anything… worrisome."
Madara's eye twitched. Worrisome? What could possibly be so worrisome about achieving true peace? Madara briefly chuckled. He finished the last bite of his onigiri and smirked. "Most people already assume the worst in me anyway. What's one more? Go ahead, I dare you," Madara goaded.
Hashirama could sense a hint of pain in Madara's voice despite his attempt to mask it. "Madara, I didn't mean— you know I'm not going to do that—"
Madara let out an exaggerated sigh. Great, now he's horny and he's irritated.
"I'm not assuming the worst, Madara," Hashirama tried to reassure.
"Mhm."
"I just… want to know what's on your mind," Hashirama added.
There was no response from Madara.
Noticing that he might be pushing Madara's buttons a little too far, Hashirama attempted to steer the conversation in a different direction. He glanced down to see the empty container in front of Madara and smirked. "So, you were hungry. I knew it."
Madara pouted. "Shut up, get out of my house."
Hashirama burst into laughter. "I'm just messing with you!"
Madara shifted out of his seat and sucked his teeth. "I'm serious, it's getting late," he responded as he stood up, turning his body away from Hashirama to hide his semi-hard on. He needed to kick Hashirama out so that he could finish packing and leave the village. He allowed himself to indulge in Hashirama's presence for a short while, but that's it. It's time for him to go.
"Wait," Hashirama said as he grabbed Madara's gloved hand, preventing him from walking away from the table.
Madara looked down at his hand in Hashirama's and raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"A little longer?"
"Huh?"
Hashirama flashed a sheepish smile. "I just want to talk… a little longer," Hashirama said as he shifted his gaze toward his and Madara's hands. God, he hated that Madara wore gloves. Hashirama started reminiscing on his old days with Madara, when they first shared their dreams about true peace with one another. "Do you remember?"
"Do I remember… what?" Madara responded, trying to suppress the excitement that threatened to rise from Hashirama's touch. Why is he still holding my hand anyway? Madara thought.
Hashirama grinned. "Do you remember when we decided we would change the world? Achieve true peace? It was an ambitious dream to have as kids." Hashirama softly chuckled. "But I think we've made some good progress, yeah?"
Madara softly sighed. What? Was Hashirama attempting to have one of these talks again? Madara sat back down, his hand still in Hashirama's, knowing it was time to claim his hand back, but not acting on those thoughts. Instead, he acted on his feelings, and his feelings were telling him that he wanted to continue feeling Hashirama's hand around his. Madara finally spoke, "You call this good progress?"
"Mhm," Hashirama hummed as he traced the subtle seams of Madara's gloves with his eyes. "I think… things are better now than they were before, because of us and what we did."
Speak for yourself, Madara thought. Nothing really changed for Madara. This wasn't peace. This was an illusion of peace. Different circumstances, different flavors of conflict. Madara still felt like he was living in hell, only now he was alone.
As Hashirama kept his gaze downward, he added, "And I think we can keep working towards our dream together to achieve more."
No, we can't, Madara thought. "We don't need to."
Hashirama met Madara's gaze. "What do you mean?"
"I told you, I already have my answer to true peace. A guaranteed answer. And I'll achieve it myself." That's right. He'll leave and fulfill his purpose. He'll leave tonight. He'll become the savior of this world. So Hashirama should just… "You just worry about the village," he mumbled.
Hashirama didn't like that answer. Because it excluded the most important word to him: together. What he wanted the most was to keep moving forward with Madara. Keep pursuing his dreams with Madara. Keep running the village with Madara. Keep talking with Madara. Keep laughing with Madara. He wanted them to do life together. Hashirama looked back down at his hand holding Madara's, their hands resting against the middle of the table. Together. And he wanted to do life together because he loved him. Hashirama couldn't help but gently brush his thumb side to side, tenderly stroking Madara's hand. He wondered when his love for Madara started. When Mito asked him that one night, he couldn't think of an answer, and he still can't.
"I wonder when it all started…" Hashirama accidentally whispered under his breath.
Madara's arm tensed up at Hashirama's shifting touch as he felt a pleasant rush throughout his body. His lips slightly parted as he took in this feeling. He wanted to feel Hashirama's touch move up his arm and caress his body. He wanted to do the same back. Madara's thumb twitched. He resisted the urge to reciprocate, but his thumb still managed to move, brushing against Hashirama's hand. Wait, what is he doing? And, wait, what did Hashirama mean? Madara finally spoke, "When what all started? And let go of my hand."
"Sorry," Hashirama said as he let go of Madara's hand, bringing his own down to his lap. Also crap, he didn't realize he said that out loud. Hashirama struggled to come up with the next words to say. Was now the time? Was now the time to tell him how he felt? If so, then why was he struggling to find the words? "Um… I-I just, I wonder when we became really close friends. You know, when you meet someone, you don't typically start off close, but you know, I think for me, it might've really been when I first met you."
Hashirama did think that he felt drawn to Madara the first time he met him. He was drawn to the way he carried himself, his personality, the way he spoke, the way he looked. After meeting him for the first time, he knew he wanted to see him again. And the rest was history.
"When I first met you, I hated you," Madara said bluntly.
Hashirama was immediately overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor.
Madara continued, "You were annoying, loud, impulsive."
With every additional word, Hashirama's head dropped lower and lower.
Madara slightly grinned. "But that feeling didn't last long, I suppose."
Hashirama looked up with hopeful eyes.
"Don't be mistaken, I still feel it from time to time, like now," Madara teased.
Hashirama was immediately overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor once again.
Madara softly chuckled.
"You can be pretty mean sometimes, you know that?" Hashirama said sullenly, with a pout.
Madara smirked and crossed his arms. "But on a real note, I'm sure all of it is a gradual process. There may not be a specific day or time when people become close friends. Kind of like love."
"Love?" Hashirama looked up at Madara, his chest fluttering. "What do you mean?"
"It's also a gradual process. For instance, can you pinpoint the day you fell in love with Mito? Sure, you can probably remember the time you came to the realization, but the feelings themselves gradually grew in the background."
Hashirama turned his head to the side, avoiding eye contact with Madara. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. Madara never failed to bring up Mito. "I suppose so," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Madara raised an eyebrow. The energy he was getting from Hashirama was very similar to what he had felt before. "Am I wrong?"
"N-No! I just, you're right," Hashirama responded. Thoughts of his pending divorce flooded his mind. He wanted to honor Mito's request and keep the divorce private until it was official, but maybe he should tell Madara. It's Madara. The man he trusted. The man he was in love with. The man he wanted to be with. The very reason why he was getting a divorce in the first place.
Madara lowered his eyes, and a heavy feeling settled in his chest. Well no shit he's right. He remembered he was leaving the village tonight. Damn it. Madara hated to admit it, but he was going to miss Hashirama. But he needed to go. It's clear what his purpose was. It's clear where he stood in this world, in the village, in Hashirama's life. He wished things were… different. But this was reality. He couldn't keep stalling; he couldn't keep indulging in Hashirama's presence, he couldn't keep stationery. He had to move forward. Madara swallowed back a lump and cleared his throat.
"Listen, Madara—"
"You should go, it's getting late," Madara said as he stood up.
Hashirama reached his hand out, attempting to grab Madara's hand again. "But, wait—"
Madara quickly retracted his arm, refusing to get caught by Hashirama again. "Stop it," he said as he leaned forward, flicking Hashirama in the forehead.
"Ouch."
"Get out of my house. Besides, shouldn't you go home to your wife? I don't need to hear you complain about how she claims you're never home." But it's not like he'll ever hear that again. He's leaving after all.
Rubbing his forehead, Hashirama asked, "Can I at least stay a little longer?"
"No."
Hashirama pouted as he watched Madara walk away from the table. "But I don't want to leave."
Stopping in his tracks, Madara turned his head and stared at Hashirama with narrowed eyes. "Since when did I care about what you wanted?"
Hashirama flinched before being overtaken by a depressed demeanor. "Okay, okay," Hashirama muttered with a sullen tone. He begrudgingly got out of his seat and slowly followed Madara in silence. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay with Madara. He wanted to hold him in his arms and tell him everything would be okay. He wanted to talk to him, kiss him, love him, love on him. He wanted to be together.
Hashirama bit his lip as he watched Madara from behind, retreating into his own thoughts. He didn't know what to do in the moment, and was plagued with many bodily sensations. He could feel an intense warmth radiate through his body as the butterflies wrestled in his stomach, accompanied by the pleasant tingling that traveled down his pelvis. Hashirama grew very aware of his heartbeat, which seemed to be picking up its pace. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to lay it all out on the table. He wanted Madara to know how he felt. He wanted Madara's touch. He wanted to become one with Madara. But he couldn't manage to put it into words.
Hashirama's eyes slowly wandered down Madara's body, from his shoulders, down his back, and to his ass. He had a really nice ass. Hashirama swallowed, quickly looking back up at the back of Madara's head. His heart now felt like it was pounding in his chest, as if trying to escape. Jeez.
Move forward.
Hashirama went in circles in his head, trying to decide what to do next. What should he say? What should he do? Every question piled up until it all collapsed into a jumbled mess, muddling his mind. Move forward. He wanted to say something. He felt this physical urge to do something. Say something. Do something. Say something. Do something. Say something. Do—
"Hashirama?"
"Hmm?" Hashirama quickly snapped back into reality, not realizing he had stopped walking.
"Were you even listening to what I was saying?" Madara asked, looking back at Hashirama.
"S-Sorry, I didn't hear you." Hashirama flashed a sheepish smile. "What'd you say?"
Madara silently eyed Hashirama. He seemed a bit… off. Maybe not off enough for a regular person to tell, but off enough for Madara, who knew Hashirama very well, to tell. Madara was just saying that, in hindsight, he also believed he started to consider Hashirama as a close friend the day they met. But there was probably no point in repeating such words. After tonight, Madara will probably never see him again until he comes back to collect Hashirama's cells, and even then, he'll leave right after. Madara sighed before turning his head back around. "Nothing, forget it. And why'd you stop? Don't make me force you out of my house."
Goodbye, Hashirama.
"I'm going, I'm going…" Hashirama said as he took a few steps forward, watching Madara from behind. He could feel his breathing grow heavy. He wanted Madara. He needed Madara. Hashirama parted his lips to speak, but nothing would come out. He watched as Madara reached for his door, and for some reason, he developed this gut-wrenching feeling, as if it was now or never. Wait. No. Don't.
What's his problem? Madara thought as he finally arrived at his front door. Just as he was about to grab the doorknob, he felt a grip around his wrist and was forcefully turned around until he was facing Hashirama.
Huh?
Madara furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, quickly growing aware of how close their bodies were—just a few inches apart.
Hashirama's eyes slightly widened, surprised at his own actions, as if his body just acted on its own. It felt like he had no control over his it; he couldn't get his body to stop. And frankly, he didn't want it to stop.
"Hashi—"
Hashirama stepped forward. Madara stepped backward. They did this until Madara's back made contact with the door, stopping him from moving away any further. As Hashirama pressed his hand against the door, above Madara's head, he slowly leaned forward until his face was just inches away from Madara's. He found himself entranced, captivated by the dark depths of Madara's onyx eyes. Hashirama simply couldn't resist any longer. He needed him.
As Madara stared back into Hashirama's eyes, he could feel his chest start to flutter. Hashirama's stare was intense, enough to make Madara's knees feel weak. And he was… so close. Madara had no clue what was going on, his mind racing with a million questions in an attempt to process the moment. What was Hashirama doing? What was Hashirama thinking? This was ridiculous. But for some reason, Madara couldn't move, as if Hashirama had him under a spell.
Hashirama slowly leaned in. Flustered, Madara placed his gloved hand on Hashirama's chest, preventing him from leaning in any closer.
"H-Hashirama—"
Hashirama gently grabbed Madara's wrist and removed his gloved hand from his chest, pinning it beside Madara's head against the door.
"W-What are you—"
Hashirama grabbed Madara's free gloved hand and slowly brought it to his lips. He carefully bit down on the fabric of the tip of his glove, avoiding Madara's finger, and slowly slid it off to finally expose Madara's bare hand.
"…doing…?" Madara finished, his voice soft and breathy as he watched Hashirama.
Hashirama guided Madara's bare fingertips towards his soft lips, met with brief resistance, but was able to gently kiss them. Without breaking eye contact with Madara, he brushed his lips down to Madara's palm and planted another kiss. He kept going, leaving a trail of soft, tender kisses down his wrist and to his forearm. Each kiss sent a pleasant thrill down Madara's frozen body.
Hashirama intertwined his bare fingers with Madara's and pinned that hand against the door as well. Now, both of Madara's hands were in Hashirama's, pinned against the door, Madara completely in Hashirama's possession. Hashirama had no words. Overwhelmed by his feelings, all he could do was express them through actions. He wanted to show Madara how much he loved him; he wanted to show him how much he wanted him.
Meanwhile, Madara still couldn't get a grasp of what was going on. He was simply in shock. His body felt a magnetizing pull towards Hashirama, his heart racing under Hashirama's longing gaze. But his mind, his mind was jumbled, his neurons rapidly firing to process Hashirama's actions. Surely, this wasn't real. Surely, this wasn't his reality. Was he dreaming? Was Hashirama under some sort of genjutsu? Was he under some sort of genjutsu? Did he already cast the Infinite Tsukuyomi? No, because if he did, he would be the one overseeing everything. So, what was going on? Hashirama would never do this. Just moments ago, they were sitting at the table having a conversation. Now, this?
Madara swore he wouldn't fall for his delusions ever again. Was the universe taunting him? Was the universe laughing at him? As Madara's mind raced with conflicting thoughts, he suddenly became aware of how close Hashirama was slowly getting, inching closer and closer. Madara's heart skipped a beat, and in a flustered confusion, he turned his head sharply to the side. What was happening? The air between them was charged with tension, a tension that had Madara in a chokehold.
Hashirama took notice of Madara's resistance and instead leaned in toward Madara's ear, his lips brushing against it. "Do you… want me to stop?" Hashirama whispered.
"Hashirama, what are you…" Madara's voice trailed off.
Hashirama found himself falling back into reality. What was he doing? Hashirama was too far in, and he didn't want to hold back now. But he figured maybe he got a little ahead of himself. Who was he to think Madara would want what he wanted? Hashirama was well aware that rejection was a possibility, that despite how much Hashirama loved him, there was a possibility that Madara wouldn't love him back. But that was a risk Hashirama was willing to take.
As Madara slowly sank into the feeling of Hashirama's proximity, it became clear to him that this was reality, his reality. All of this was real—Hashirama's deep voice, his warm breath against his ear, his musky scent, his soft lips that brushed against his ear lobe. It was all real. And his urges, his urge to submit to his desires, to submit to Hashirama, were all real. His beating heart, the warmth in his cheeks, the feeling of Hashirama's hands in his, the pressure from his growing boner, they were all very real bodily sensations. All the feelings for Hashirama that Madara desperately tried to suppress were resurfacing, which wasn't good. He needed to keep suppressing them. Of course, he would suppress them. Why wouldn't he? Madara thought, who was he to think he'd mean anything more to Hashirama?
But at that moment, Madara wanted Hashirama so badly. He wanted to kiss him, to fuck him. He needed him. But why now? Madara cursed in his head. Why today? Why tonight? When he already decided he would leave the village? When he finally hardened his resolve to leave everything behind and go after his goal? His dream? True peace? But he needed him. But, he shouldn't… right? But he wanted him… he wanted his love, his warmth, his light.
But Hashirama's light was too bright, it was never meant for him. And good things never happened to Madara anyway.
At the thought, Madara weakly resisted Hashirama's annoyingly strong grasp, but only briefly. He quickly felt his knees weaken; his body being drawn to the presence before him. He couldn't resist. He needed Hashirama.
A lump formed at the back of Hashirama's throat when he felt Madara's resistance. Well, he had his answer. A man can only dream, he supposed. Though Hashirama was hoping to continue, he wasn't going to force himself on Madara. Hashirama swallowed and softly exhaled. He silently beat himself up in his head, thinking about the intense awkwardness that all of this would probably produce after he pulls away. Then, what would he say? Hashirama started loosening his grip on Madara's hands.
"S-Sorry, Madara, I'll stop. I don't know what I was doing. I—"
"N-No…" Madara softly muttered as Hashirama spoke.
Hashirama's eyes widened at the unexpected response. Did he hear that correctly? Were his ears deceiving him? He pulled his head back to look at Madara; he looked… different than how he did earlier. His facial expression was softer, more wanting, his lips slightly parted, his cheeks reddened. The rise and fall of his chest was deeper. What a sight.
Intense warmth overtook Madara's body, and his breathing slowly grew heavy as he stared longingly at Hashirama's lips.
For the two of them, it felt like time had stopped, and that it was only them in a timeless void.
Finally, Hashirama and Madara locked eyes.
Before they knew it, their lips crashed into each other's.
It felt like the gates to the years of yearning they stored for one another were finally unlocked. Like an endless flow of water bursting through a broken dam, a force too intense to be stopped. Hashirama pressed his body against Madara's, pinning him further against the door. Their lips moved against each other hungrily as they savored the taste of one another, Hashirama kissing off the residual taste of umami from Madara's soft lips.
But it wasn't enough, they needed to be closer. Hashirama let go of Madara's hands, immediately wrapping one hand around Madara's neck and one around his waist, pulling him in closer and deepening the heated kiss. As Madara wrapped his arms around Hashirama, he shifted, causing their bulging crotches to rub against each other. A wave of pleasure washed over their bodies as they softly moaned into each other's mouths.
"Fuck…" Madara whispered. It was all too much. He needed all of Hashirama, and he couldn't stop.
Madara tugged at the bottom of Hashirama's shirt, prompting Hashirama to quickly take it off while Madara took off his own. Before their lips could find each other's again, Hashirama grabbed Madara's remaining gloved hand and started slipping the glove off. He hated Madara's gloves, they always robbed him of Madara's touch.
Madara looked down at his gloved hand in Hashirama's before looking back up at Hashirama. Fuck, he hate how sexy he looked. He hated the effect Hashirama had on him. His reddened cheeks, his glistening pouty lips, his yearning eyes, his broad, well-built shoulders; it was all so incredibly, annoyingly irresistible. Once the glove was off, Madara was pulled into another ravenous kiss, which he didn't hesitate to sink into.
Their bare hands wandered each other's bodies, taking note of every dimple, every curve, every scar. Hashirama took in the feeling of Madara's hand, slowly caressing up his chest and neck until it sank into the back of his head, fingers entangling in a handful of Hashirama's soft, brown locks. God, the touch Hashirama had been yearning for. Hashirama ran his hand down Madara's chiseled back, sending satisfying chills down Madara's spine.
Hashirama broke the kiss, leaving a trail of soft pecks across Madara's chin. Madara reflexively tilted his head, granting Hashirama access to travel down his neck with wet kisses. Hashirama then stroked Madara's neck with his tongue, parting his lips to suck on his soft skin. As Madara softly moaned, he pulled at the hair in his grasp while Hashirama ran his hand up the back of Madara's head, grabbing and pulling his hair to gain more exposure to his neck. He couldn't resist. He gently bit down and sucked at the same spot on Madara's neck over and over again, harder and harder, until a bruise appeared. Mine.
Their lips found each other again, kissing as their breathing grew heavier. Madara bit down on Hashirama's lower lip, gently pulling before sinking back into the kiss. As their embrace tightened, they moaned, gaining access to each other's mouths. Their tongues eagerly sought the other and twirled around each other rhythmically, like a dance.
Madara stepped forward, Hashirama stepped back, until they reached the bedroom, neither of them daring to break the intoxicating kiss. Once inside, Hashirama shifted their position, now leading Madara toward the bed until the back of his legs bumped the edge. Madara succumbed to gravity, lowering himself onto the bed as Hashirama followed. As Hashirama hovered over Madara's body, they gazed longingly into each other's eyes. Hashirama's brown locks slid gracefully off his shoulder and down the side of his face, the ends landing just beside Madara's face.
There was a moment of silence, neither of the two uttering a word about the situation, as if they feared it would pull them down from the clouds they were floating on. As if they would plummet to the ground, ending this long-awaited moment. As if they would wake up from a dream if they dared to speak.
Madara no longer had the resolve to resist, he gave up that idea as soon as their lips met. It was inevitable because of his love for Hashirama. And now here he was, under Hashirama, succumbing to the effect the man had on him. It was shameful. It was confusing. It was infuriating. It was… electrifying. Every touch, every kiss, was so irritatingly electrifying. And he couldn't stop. But what did this all mean? This moment? Madara still struggled to make sense of it all. It was a reality he couldn't come to terms with. A reality too good to be true. And good things never happened to Madara, so what did his dark fate have in store for him now?
And then it dawned on him that he'd never done something like this before. Sure, he's kissed a couple of people, but he never showed interest in anything more. He was too busy watching over his family, leading his clan, getting stronger, fighting wars. He didn't show interest in dating, intimacy, or sex. More so, no one was worthy of that attention from him. No one was capable of bringing that desire out of him. No one but Hashirama, the only person he ever even imagined going that far with, the very man who was hovering over him at that moment. Seriously, what the fuck was happening?
Hashirama debated on telling Madara how he felt, right then, right there. But he couldn't. If he said something, would this end? He didn't want it to end. He was still shocked that it even started. He wanted to know what Madara was thinking, why Madara didn't stop him, why Madara kissed him back with such… passion. Those lips… he wanted… to feel… those lips again.
Hashirama slowly leaned in, pressing his lips against Madara's as he lowered his body. As their lips moved in an intoxicating crescendo, they slowly rocked their hips, their boners rubbing against each other's. Their deep moans filled the room as they got lost in the overwhelming ecstasy. They couldn't stop. The warmth, the yearning, the pleasure, it all brought out such animalistic desires. Far too gone to turn back now.
Hashirama pressed his lips against Madara's neck and softly whimpered. "Madara… I want you so bad…" The breathy words slipped out of his mouth without him realizing.
Madara moaned in response, unconsciously bucking his hips upward into Hashirama. He'd never felt such intense pleasure and lust before. Words couldn't describe how much he wanted Hashirama. Madara felt Hashirama's kisses run down his neck and chest. He opened his eyes to meet Hashirama's gaze as those lips brushed against one of Madara's nipples. Madara sharply inhaled. Oh? That felt… good?
Hashirama intentionally watched for Madara's reaction as he took his nipple into his mouth, sucking it gently. Hashirama wanted to learn his body, make him feel good. He observed Madara as he flicked his pink nipple with his wet tongue, bringing his hand to the other nipple and flicking it repeatedly with his finger. He loved seeing Madara shift under him, evidently holding back a moan. Hashirama moved his mouth to the other nipple while he ran his hand towards Madara's crotch.
Madara bit back a moan as he sank into the pleasurable goodness. He wasn't expecting to like this. His breath hitched when he felt Hashirama's hand grab his cock through his pants. Fuck.
Hashirama released Madara's nipple from his mouth and left wet kisses along his chest, down his abs until he reached the band of Madara's pants. He wanted a taste. Hashirama quickly grabbed Madara's pants and started slipping them off while Madara lifted his hips to help him. Hashirama took a moment to take off his own pants and threw them to the side.
Hashirama hungrily looked down at Madara's crotch, only trunks left as he eyed Madara's visible boner, fighting to be released from the cloth restricting it. Hashirama tucked his finger under the band of Madara's trunks and paused, looking up to meet Madara's gaze. "May I?" he asked breathily, fighting back the desire to rip it off.
Madara could feel his cheeks grow hotter as he stared at Hashirama, who subtly licked his lip and bit it. Once his trunks are pulled off, his whole body will be exposed. Vulnerable. Completely giving himself to Hashirama. The idea of giving his first time to his long-term rival shook his pride a bit. But his body wanted it. He couldn't resist. Madara turned his head away reluctantly and slightly lifted his hips, granting Hashirama permission to take off the last barrier between them.
Hashirama eagerly slipped off Madara's black trunks, watching as his hard cock sprung out, oozing with pre-cum. He hummed pleasantly as he threw Madara's trunks to the side, lowering himself down towards Madara's lap while grabbing Madara's muscular thighs. Hashirama stuck his tongue out, and slowly tracing the bulging vein up Madara's cock until he reached his glistening tip. Madara softly whimpered, bucking his hips upward in anticipation of Hashirama's mouth. With his tongue, Hashirama circled the head.
"Fuck, Hashi, stop teasing me," Madara softly groaned as he stirred underneath Hashirama, his thighs tensing, his body begging for more.
Hashirama smirked, gaining extreme satisfaction from witnessing Madara subtly writhe under him. He loved witnessing the typically collected, confident, prideful man succumbing to the anticipated pleasure Hashirama wanted to bring him. Finally, Hashirama took Madara into his mouth, immediately taking in his entire length.
Eyes shutting, Madara threw his head back deep into his pillow, and a moan escaped his lips as this new, intense, exquisite feeling took over his body.
Madara's soft cries aroused Hashirama, motivating him to keep going as he sucked Madara's cock with tightened lips, his eyes locked on Madara's face. He wanted to hear more. He wanted to make Madara feel even better.
Madara clenched his sheets as he took in the feeling of Hashirama's mouth around him. The friction, the wetness, the warmth, it all felt so good. Madara parted his lips and sighed, lifting his head to make eye contact with Hashirama.
Hashirama released Madara's cock from his mouth, not daring to break eye contact. He wrapped his fingers around Madara's shaft and rested the tip against his bottom lip as he exhaled. Madara shuddered from Hashirama's warm breath as he ran his hand up Hashirama's neck, sinking his fingers deep into his hair and grasping it. He wanted more. Madara guided Hashirama's head down, and Hashirama complied.
Madara thrusted his hips upward, forcing himself deeper into Hashirama's mouth. They moved in rhythm with one another as Hashirama moaned around Madara's cock, drool dripping down his chin as he hungrily took in Madara's glistening cock in its entirety, over and over again.
Madara could always only imagine Hashirama giving him head, but this time, this time, it's reality, his reality. "Hashi…," Madara breathed as he clutched desperately to Hashirama's brown locks, his rhythmic thrusting breaking as he felt the built-up pressure reach its peak. A deep, drawn-out moan escaped Madara's lips, and his body tensed, washed over with intense, electrifying pleasure as he came into Hashirama's mouth. Hashirama slowly sucked Madara's cock, working him through his climax as he swallowed the cum that spilled into his mouth.
Hashirama released Madara from his mouth and shifted back up to marvel at Madara recovering from his orgasm. What a sight.
Madara steadied his heavy breath as he drank in the sight of Hashirama, the way his reddened lips glistened as saliva dripped down his chin, his yearning, seductive eyes, his tousled hair. Mmm. This was a sight Madara definitely couldn't get enough of. A sight that stirred something inside of him. Madara pulled Hashirama in for a kiss, admittedly desperate for his lips.
Hashirama whispered against Madara's lips, "I love how you taste."
"Yeah?" Madara muttered.
Hashirama hummed in response. He could barely bare the feeling of his own throbbing cock begging for a feel, begging for friction, warmth. Begging for Madara. Hashirama slipped his own trunks off and threw them to the side before lowering his body, grinding his throbbing boner against Madara. Their lips brushed against each other's as they softly moaned. Hashirama slipped his hand between Madara's thighs, spreading his legs further apart. He needed to be inside of him, right then, right there.
"Oh," Hashirama murmured before pulling away. He sought out his pants and took out a tube of lube that he borrowed from Tobirama earlier.
Madara propped himself up on his forearms and watched suspiciously as Hashirama squeezed some lube onto his fingers. Why the fuck does he have lube with him? Does he just carry lube around? Or did he… plan this? Madara's eyes furrowed as he processed the sight before him, which Hashirama took notice of.
"What?" Hashirama asked as he closed the bottle of lube and threw it to the side.
"Why do you have that?"
Hashirama looked down at his fingers and then looked at Madara. "Trust me, you don't want to do this without lube."
"That's not what I—" Madara sighed and brought his palm to his face, hiding his flushed cheeks. He continued, "That's not what I meant, Hashirama. Do you just walk around with lube in your pocket or what?"
It was the first conversation they had had since before they first kissed, yet neither of them directly addressed the situation at hand. And they knew why. It was because neither of them wanted to stop.
Hashirama softly chuckled. "No, I don't," Hashirama answered. He just brought it in case. He crawled back on top of Madara, eager to be inside of him at any moment, as the pressure in his crotch overwhelmed him.
Madara lowered his head down to his pillow and stared at Hashirama. "So—"
"Are you a virgin?" Hashirama asked innocently.
Madara's eyes slightly gaped as his cheeks grew hot and a wave of heat traveled down his body. He broke eye contact and abruptly turned his head to the side. Was it that obvious? "T-T-That's none of your business."
So, yes, Hashirama thought. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched Madara get flustered underneath him. It was cute. The way Madara reacted. Hashirama knew his stubbornness and pride would never allow him to openly admit such a thing. But that was okay. He brought his lips to Madara's reddened ear and whispered, "Then I'll be gentle."
Gentle?! "I don't need you to be gentle," Madara grumbled. Who does Hashirama take Madara for? Madara snapped his head back, reinstating eye contact with Hashirama, as if he was challenging him. "I—" Before Madara could say anything else, his words caught in his throat when he felt Hashirama's wet finger against his hole. Another new sensation. And just like that, he was lost in his own arousal.
"Hmm?" Hashirama hummed teasingly as he massaged Madara's tightened hole with his lubed fingers. He watched as Madara bit back a moan before he stole a kiss from him, who didn't hesitate to kiss back. Once he felt Madara relax, he gently pressed a finger inside Madara. Madara gasped as he felt Hashirama's finger slide in slowly.
Patiently thrusting his finger inside of Madara, Hashirama felt him relax before sliding in a second finger. When he felt like Madara was ready, he slipped his fingers out and propped himself up on his knees, positioning himself between Madara's legs.
Madara could feel his heart pounding as his eyes slowly wandered down Hashirama's body. He hated to admit it, but he looked like a God. A face and body fit for a man of his caliber. It was no wonder he was heavily admired by so many. His eyes finally landed on Hashirama's cock. Well, fuck. It was bigger than Madara anticipated, but honestly, he expected no less from his rival. He still wanted it, all of it. He could feel his hole pulsating as he waited in anticipation. He looked up at Hashirama's face, who was also staring at him, his eyes scanning Madara's body.
"What?" Madara asked, a little uncomfortable at Hashirama's ogling eyes.
Hashirama grinned while admiring Madara's body. He loved the way Madara's long, luscious black hair blanketed his pillow, falling around his handsome face, with beautiful, black eyes. His defined muscles, his smooth skin, his big cock, which was now already hard once again. Madara was truly beautiful, like a gift from the divine. And Hashirama felt lucky to be able to witness him in his entirety. "You're breathtaking."
Madara's eyes slightly widened, and he turned his head to the side. His cheeks flushed, and his ears reddened. "Just shut up and fuck me," he mumbled.
Hashirama smirked. He was so cute. He learned forward, brushing his lips against his neck, and whispered, "Yes, sir." Hashirama positioned his cock at Madara's entrance and slowly eased inside, watching as Madara closed his eyes, inhaling as he involuntarily tensed up.
Madara didn't anticipate the discomfort. Hashirama could feel Madara tighten around him. He stopped and lightly caressed Madara's cheek with his thumb before leaning in for a kiss, pressing his body against Madara's. He whispered, "Try to relax… I got you. It'll feel good, I promise."
Madara's eyebrow twitched. Who was he talking to like that? He thought defensively, initially hesitating to accept Hashirama's comfort for the sake of his pride. Though he was annoyed, there was still something… endearing about the way Hashirama tried to comfort him. It exuded the intimate warmth Madara had always wanted from Hashirama. Something he never thought he'd have. But wait… was this just another sample the cruel world was serving him? Madara didn't want to think about it, he just wanted to get lost in the moment. He allowed himself to sink into Hashirama's tantalizing kiss.
Once Hashirama felt Madara relax, he continued to penetrate Madara. Madara softly groaned as he felt Hashirama edge deeper and deeper inside of him.
Finally, Hashirama was halfway inside Madara, fighting back every urge to immediately start thrusting his entire length inside. Hashirama slowly pulled out before sliding slowly into Madara again, earning a soft groan from him. As he slowly penetrated Madara, Hashirama moaned. He felt so good. The warmth and friction from Madara's tight, wet hole sent shocks of ecstasy throughout his body.
A sudden moan escaped Madara's lips, and his body jolted once Hashirama hit a sweet spot that made his core feel fuzzy. This was another new sensation; an overwhelmingly good sensation.
"Mmh, right there?"
"Right there," Madara said breathily.
Hashirama observed Madara as he continued to hit that same spot, finding pleasure in both the feeling of Madara around him and the sexy look on Madara's face. Their lips met, their kiss interrupted by their moans as their bodies brimmed with breathtaking pleasure. Madara was no longer able to conceive any organized thoughts; all that was running through his mind was that he wanted more.
"Faster… Deeper…," Madara moaned.
Hashirama rocked his hips faster, slamming his cock deeper and deeper inside of Madara as his balls slapped against him. Madara caught Hashirama's neck in his mouth, sucking and biting senselessly, causing Hashirama to softly whimper. It was all so intense. They wrapped their arms around each other tightly, their bodies beaded with sweat, deeply moaning each other's names as they got lost in their euphoria, making sweet, hot, sexy love.
They both felt their arousal start to peak. Suddenly, Madara's body tensed, and he threw his head back, erupting into a resonant moan as his cum oozed onto his stomach. Hashirama's rhythm broke as he tried to get a few more strokes in. Overwhelmed by the feeling of Madara's clenching hole and the sound of his enticing voice, Hashirama felt a sudden rush of intense pleasure and sweet, sweet release. He slammed his cock into Madara one last time, tensing up as a deep moan escaped his lips, shooting his cum deep inside of Madara.
The two lay in Madara's bed in silence, finding themselves nuzzled against each other as they caught their breaths. Madara's cheek rested on Hashirama's warm chest, his leg over Hashirama's. He got lost in Hashirama's heartbeat as he felt Hashirama's hand run down his long, tousled black hair and down his back, which soothed Madara.
As Hashirama caressed Madara, he thought, Wow, I really love this man. He allowed himself to process what had just happened. He just slept with Madara… Madara Uchiha, his best friend, his rival, the man he loved. And it was amazing. And it was reciprocated. Something more between them was there; he could feel it. Now, it was time to say something. It was time to tell him. It was time to initiate the conversation. Hashirama's hand movements stopped, and his nerves started to build up. He needed to say something.
Once Madara fully came down from the high of his orgasm, he couldn't help but feel panic settle in as he realized what had just happened. He just slept with Hashirama… Hashirama Senju… his best friend, his rival, the Hokage, Mito's husband, Tobirama's brother, the man far out of his reach, the man he told himself he'd leave behind to achieve true peace. What the fuck was he doing? What did all of this mean? Despite his brain's inclination to ruminate, Madara felt his panic ease and his mind slowly clear. He didn't dwell on the thoughts that the village hated him or that his clan betrayed him. He didn't reflect on Izuna's death or the painful fact that he could never have Hashirama. He didn't think about his loneliness, his dark fate, or this accursed world.
When Madara felt Hashirama stop, he assumed he had fallen asleep. Madara just wanted to stay in Hashirama's arms. He wanted to savor the moment, a moment he'd probably never have again. It's okay… he'll just leave the village when he wakes up. Extending his indulgence in this one last sample won't hurt… Madara felt his eyelids grow heavy as he focused on Hashirama's heartbeat, which, oddly enough, didn't seem to be slowing down. The sight before him slowly blurred, before fading into darkness.
"Madara… Can we talk?"
Madara's eyes shot open. Shit, he was still awake? Madara suddenly felt like he was finally coming to his senses, thought processes immediately falling into his usual maladaptive patterns, his panic reemerging. He shouldn't be here. Madara needed to get out of there. He pushed himself off Hashirama, getting out of his bed.
Hashirama reached his hand out for Madara. He didn't want to be separated. He wanted Madara to stay with him in bed, cuddle with him, talk to him. "Madara, wait—"
"Don't touch me," Madara snapped as he dodged Hashirama's hand. "I'm tired of you doing that. Stop grabbing me."
Hashirama sat up. "I'm sorry, it's just—"
"Shut up!"
Madara sought out his trunks and slipped them on. His mind raced. What did they just do? Why did he fuck Hashirama? But wait, Hashirama was the one who came on to him. Madara felt a fluttering in his stomach. So does that mean…? Madara immediately erased that thought. Impossible. Madara had already vowed he would never fall for his delusions again, because they didn't have a place in his dark fate, a fate he had accepted. Hashirama would never… so why? He turned to Hashirama. "Why did you come on to me?" Madara demanded.
"'Why?'" Hashirama's cheeks flushed. He rubbed the back of his neck as he nervously chuckled. "Isn't it obvious…?"
Madara's eyes narrowed. "Obvious?"
Hashirama hummed in response. He swung his legs to the side of the bed and pulled the covers over his naked lap. "I want to talk about it," Hashirama said, hoping Madara would sit back down and give him his attention.
Madara sucked his teeth. He paced in front of Hashirama, ignoring his request, overwhelmed by numerous feelings: disbelief, suspicion, curiosity, doom, yearning, shock, embarrassment, love. This was a mistake. Because surely, things weren't that simple. Surely, the universe was laughing at him. Because good things rarely happened for Madara, and if they did, they never lasted. So what was the catch? Madara tried connecting the dots, forcefully bringing together pieces of a puzzle whose image was unclear. Whose image he desperately tried to decipher, even if it had nothing to give. Then something clicked, like a puzzle piece that wasn't the right shape, but just close enough to fit into the hole.
"...Are you okay?" Hashirama asked.
"So is this your plan?" Madara asked accusingly.
"Huh?" Hashirama responded.
"Is this your plan? Huh?!" The volume of Madara's voice rose.
"Madara… what are you talking about?" Hashirama was genuinely confused.
"Don't think you can fool me, Hashirama. So what? This is what you're doing now? Huh? You're going to fuck me to stop me from leaving the village?! HUH?!"
Hashirama immediately felt his heart sink inside his chest. What? His body was overtaken by a rush of heat as he processed what he had just heard. A lump formed in the back of his throat, and he struggled to release the words from his mouth.
Madara paused, realizing the words that slipped out of his mouth.
Finally, Hashirama spoke with a subtle shakiness to his voice, "So…you're… you're planning on leaving the village…?"
Well, fuck. Hashirama was never supposed to know that.
Thanks for reading! Sorry for the long wait /3 But I hope you enjoyed! Tune in for the next chapter ^_^