Naruto (c) Masashi Kishimoto
Dedicated to: RogueAngleofSatin
The summer night was sticky with a cool breeze blowing through the window, smelling of leaf and soil and the coming rain. It tickled Uchiha Madara's senses as he stared at the frustrating man before him. "I don't understand," Madara growled, tossing a shock of hair over his shoulder, "why you wanted me to here at this hour! It's almost two in the morning!" He folded his arms over his muscular chest and shifted his weight causing the fresh tatami to squeak beneath his feet, release the sweet smell of fresh cut grass. "Couldn't the discussion about the alliance with Iwagakure wait until morning?"
Hashirama felt his lips curl into a tiny smile as he shook his head, mud brown hair swishing softly in the pregnant darkness. "My summoning of you has nothing to do with the possible alliance with Iwagakure."
"I don't like being summoned as if I'm some mongrel cur!" Madara snarled, eyes narrowing dangerously. His Sharingan spun sanguine in the darkness.
"Oh Madara..." Hashirama whispered softly.
"Don't you oh Madara me, Senju!"
"Can I just want to see you, without out politics meddling in the middle of everything?"
"At two in the fucking morning?"
"A potent hour, no?"
Madara snorted. "Clearly," he said tersely, "you don't enjoy our dances nearly enough as I thought you did." His eyes narrowed further in his annoyance. When Hashirama didn't answer right away, Madara bit out a snarl. "I'm leaving!" he pivoted and made for the door.
"You mistake me," Hashirama whispered softly, halting Madara more effectively then any trap. "I do enjoy our 'dances' as you dubbed them." Hashirama allowed a lazy smile to spread across his lips, "But sometimes I want to just be with you."
"Hn," Madara blinked slowly before turning around, "I see."
Hashirama smiled as he walked up to him on cat-silent feet. Madara felt his own grin spread across his face before he tossed a thin silver needle, slicing Hashirama's cheek. The clouds drifted away from the glorious full moon, it's silver light illuminating the blood oozing down Hashirama's cheek, turning it a chilly black. Hashirama touched his cheek, staring at his blood. "You cut me," he stated. Madara felt a shiver of pleasure tingle down his spine to his nether-regions at the sight, his predator's grin widening.
"Of course," Madara stated, taking a few quick strides up to the man, stopping mere inches from him. "It..." Madara reached up and drew his finger along the bleeding wound, he pulled his hand away and stared at the blood before rubbing it between the pads of his thumb and first two fingers. Tantalizingly slow, he raised his fingers to his lips and his tongue darted out, snake-like, to lick the blood from them. "Excites me!" Madara's Sharingan seemed to grow brighter as the utterance.
Hashirama chuckled softly, before cupping Madara's unmarred cheek. "And your skin," the taller man said, "is so pale it seems to almost glow in the moonlight." Hashirama removed his hand, only to use his index finger to trace the sharp angle of Madara's cheek until it met his firm jaw.
"Tch." Madara hissed but didn't bat the other man's hand away. He allowed the Senju to trace the curve of his neck, pausing at the center o his throat. Hashirama could feel the steady rhythm of Madara's pulse and breath, knowing that he could easily crush Madara's throat and kill him.
"So beautiful," Hashirama breathed before resting his hand on Madara's shoulder. He wiggled it beneath the Uchiha's yukata, pushing the shoulder down to reveal creamy flesh crisscrossed with cicatrices. Hashirama watched as the night air perked Madara's nipples up, or was that due to Madara's bridled lust? Hashirama shivered with want at the sight, he traces a scar, remembering the battle where that wound was born. "Your body..." Hashirama leaned forward and kissed the skin of Madara's warm shoulder, "is so beautiful."
Madara raised his other arm and stroked Hashirama's hair as the Senju continued to press soft butterfly kisses to his exposed side. "I see what this is," Madara whispered. He leaned forward slightly, his lips brushing against the curve of Hashirama's ear. "Sin begets sin," that predator's smile spread across the Uchiha's lips again, "in the witching hour." Madara hissed before his lips closed around Hashirama's lower lobe and sucked, a tooth digging into the tender flesh. Hashirama opened his mouth to say something but a moan tore itself loose from his throat. Madara ran his hand down Hashirama's hair, tugging at it as he did so until his fingers found the soft flesh at Hashirama's nape. He dug blunt fingers into the Senju's skin until he felt it break and hot blood slowly ooze up, revealing four bloody crescents.
Madara took a step back and tugged his obi free, revealing his nakedness to Hashirama. The Senju's brown eyes roved over his body and Madara felt himself preen like a peacock with pride. He knew Hashirama liked what he was seeing and that the Senju was growing weak kneed. "I see it," Madara purred, as he slowly closed the gap between them, "you want me, desire me," Madara stopped before Hashirama, their bare toe touching. Madara pressed his hand against Hashirama's firm thigh and slowly dragged it up, nails scratching as he did so. He leaned forward, "Crave me!" his hand found the prize and he gave Hashirama a firm tug.
Hashirama gasped softly at the sensation, though it morphed into a series of guttural moans as Madara's hand worked him. Suddenly, the ministrations to his throbbing erection stopped and Madara was no longer close enough to smell musk coming off of him. Hashirama whimpered a little, but he soon found Madara sitting on the futon with his legs spread wide and his cock at attention among the tangle of black hair; his yukata was discarded besides him and he held a little bottle in his hand while the other held a kunai.
Grinning like a hellcat Madara whispered: "Come, Hashirama."
Hashirama's throat went dry as he untied the obi around his waist; he practically threw off the yukata he was wearing before taking shaky steps towards Madara. He felt like he was man that was dying of thirst and Madara was a fresh clear spring. Hashirama fell to his knees and hobbled the rest of of the way to Madara.
"Yes," Madara growled softly, lustily, guiding Hashirama's head between his legs. The Uchiha hissed when Hashirama's hot mouth engulfed his member, felt his harden slightly more against the Senju's mouth. Little grunts and moans escaped Madara's throat as he tossed his head back, exposing his throat. His hips trembled with the urge to buck, but he held back. It would do no good if he would choke the Senju. Groaning, Madara leaned forward, petting Hashirama's hair as the Senju continued to suck on him. "That's it," Madara whispered before trailing the kunai along Hashirama's back. He drew the kunai back with a practice flick of the wrist, the tomoe of his Sharingan spinning delight at the sight of Hashirama's blood flowing out of his ruined flesh.
Hashirama gave a jerk, teeth scraping the hypersensitive skin of Madara's dick. The Uchiha let out a pleased snarl, cutting Hashirama again and again and again, until his back was curved with little wounds and a trickling river of red was sliding it's way towards Hashirama's firm buttocks. "Yessssssss... Like that... Ooooooh," Madara moaned when he watched Hashirama's chakra heal him and felt his lover's tongue press against his swollen crown, "Ffffffff-uuuuuuuck!" Madara moaned, and was unable to prevent himself from bucking his hips, until his cock hit the back of Hashirama's throat. Sputtering the Senju pulled away, gasping for breath.
"S-Sorry..." Hashirama gasped, one hand around himself and the other pressed against the futon. "Lemme finish," Hashirama leaned forward but Madara shoved him away.
"No," Madara whispered and repositioned them. He trailed his hands in the blood that oozed down Hashirama's back. "I wish you didn't heal yourself," Madara tutted, "I like watching you bleed. Oh well." Madara took out the small bottle and pulled the cork out with his teeth. The heady scent of cloves filled the air, and Hashirama gasped in surprise as the cool oil touched his backside. Madara's oil slick finger was soon delving itself deep between Hashirama's buttcheeks, seeking that special euphoria educing spot.
Madara found it quickly enough and began to rub and message it, grinning like a Cheshire Cat as Hashirama moaned and squirmed beneath him. Madara added finger after finger, until he was three fingers deep in Hashirama. "Yes," Madara purred against Hashirama, "just like that. Whimper for me, Kami no Shinobi."
"Uh... uh... uh..." Hashirama moaned and dropped his head, panting heavily as his hands fisted the pillow before him. "Ugh!" he bucked against Madara's hand, listening to his lover's dark chuckle as the dark hair man forced whiny little moans from his throat.
"Shhhh," Madara whispered as he pulled his fingers, "mustn't be too loud now," he dribbled the clove oil over his cock, gasping as he smoothed it over this sensitive part of his anatomy. "Wouldn't want your dearest brother to hear us now," he pour some more oil between Hashirama's butt-cheeks.
"Madara..." Hashirama gasped.
"I think you're good," Madara said, "dripping like a bitch almost," he grinned nastily as he set the bottle aside. He the positioned his cock at Hashirama's hole, squeezing between Hashirama's firm ass-cheeks. Hooking his fingers into the Senju's hips, Madara gave a well practiced thrust and drove himself balls deep into Hashirama as he yanked the other man's hips up to meet his.
"OH!" Hashirama cried as Madara began to pound out a rhythm of pleasure and pain. With each thrust, another cry-growing in volume-was torn from Hashirama's throat. He soon was grinding against Madara himself without the other man's aid, but Madara soon prevented Hashirama from moving with the fluid motion. He held Hashirama still as he brutally ground into him, almost as if they would fuse together and become one if Madara just pushed a little bit harder than before. "Aaahahahaahaaaaa!" Hashirama cried, sweat and blood mingling along his back. Madara leaned forward and licked the concoction up Hashirama's spin until he was at his nape.
Madara kissed Hashirama's nape as he naked his hands down the Senju's arms and interlocked their fingers together. "Are you enjoying this?" Madara panted into Hashirama's ear. He licked the shell before pressed his teeth into Hashirama's shoulder and jerking his hips. He grunted as Hashirama gave a little whimper. "Like me being balls deep in your backside?" He gave another little thrust to prove his point.
"Y-Yes..." Hashirama whimpered, nodding and enjoying the feel of his lover/best friend/rival being buried deep inside him. "S-So... m-much!" Hashirama wiggled his hips, which caused Madara to moan softly.
"Cheeky bastard," Madara chuckled softly, before he bit Hashirama on the throat to the point pleasure bleed into pain. He allowed Madara to stay like that as Madara drew his hands back up his arms and grabbed Hashirama around his cock. Madara let go of his throat, admiring the perfect imprint of his teeth in his lover's throat before his thrusts began again at a brutal pace, though this time he worked Hashirama's cock. Since the poor Senju bastard needed his hands to fist the futon as if the mattress was his only anchor between reality and total rapture.
Madara bit into Hashirama's back, causing the other man to yowl like a she-cat in heat and arch against him. "A ripe mixture of pleasure and pain," Madara murmured huskily against Hashirama's skin, before picking up speed and his bites taking on a more brutal quality until Hashirama wasn't sure if his yelps were due to pleasure or to pain.
Then he came. His orgasm rocketed through him like lightning, tearing a primal scream from his throat. He felt his muscles spasm and his seed coat Madara's hand and drip onto the futon. Madara came a few moments later.
Panting. Trying to grab their fleeing breath and sooth their tingling nerves all at once. Hashirama felt Madara pull out of him and pull him down to cuddle. Madara only ever allowed cuddling after he climaxed. Hashirama thought it was an endearing quirk of his. The two blooded shinobi lied there-coated in blood, sweat and semen-in each other arms.
They lost track of time, until they heard a bell toll from outside. It's deep resonate voice rang thrice through the budding village. "It's over..." Hashirama whispered.
"Hn," Madara nuzzled the other man's shoulder.
"The witching hour is over."
"And now," Madara purred, tracing a swirl pattern on Hashirama's stomach, "we wallow in our sin." And he kissed the Senju.
Between the hours of two and three am is the Japanese witching hour. I felt this hour of day was fitting for the two of them to fuck.