Ever since he had moved into his new home Madara had been having strange dreams; he would feel fingers tracing his face, soft hands running over his body, a cool weight pinning him to the mattress.
Whenever he awoke, panting, to sheets soaked with sweat and other things, he swore he could hear the fading echoes of masculine laughter.
As time went on the dreams became bolder, he caught glimpses of dark hair and deathly pale skin, could feel a rough tongue tracing his jaw, felt sharp nails scoring his skin and awoken to find marks.
Madara had long since given up all thoughts of attributing these events to hormones and an over-active imagination, now he was quite sure that something was haunting him. He felt exhausted all the time. Friends began to comment that he looked as though he was ill.
Dark circles etched themselves thickly under his eyes.
Finally, one night, when the dream began, more vivid than anything before, he wrested himself back to wakefulness.
"Why Do You Torment Me!!" he yelled. His reply was dark, haunting laughter. Madara froze, staring as a form appeared before him, silhouetted in the moonlight flooding through the window.
"Torment you?" It asked mockingly, "Is that what you think I'm doing?" It laughed again, stalking soundlessly over to the bed and crawling up over Madara's legs until they were face to face.
"What are you?" Madara asked; his voice barley audible. It smiled and he was given a brief glimpse of delicate fangs.
"I am many things," Its laughter rumbled through its chest, "But you may call me Hashirama."
Then Hashirama leaned forward and kissed him, Madara gasped and Hashirama took advantage, plundering Madara's mouth. Madara squirmed, in a vain effort to get free, but Hashirama pinned him to the bed so he couldn't move, just as he had in countless dreams.
He drew back and pinned Madara's hands above him, tying his wrists securely to the headboard.
"What are you doing?" Madara asked, beginning to panic. Hashirama smiled again, a deeply predatory expression that sent shivers down Madara's spine.
"Me? I'm showing you the real torment that you somehow think you've been experiencing."
He threw the covers off the bed and ripped off Madara's pajamas, leaving him bare and terribly exposed. Madara kicked out at Hashirama but he caught his ankle.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, unless you want me to tie up your legs as well? Hmmm?" Hashirama looked down at him expectantly and Madara bucked his entire body. Hashirama caught his other foot and pressed Madara back down onto the bed, using the weight of his own body to keep Madara still, he took this as an opportunity to nibble at Madara's collarbone, eliciting a sharp exhale from the smaller man.
Madara took this as an opportunity to realize that Hashirama was totally naked, and fully aroused.
"You never answered my question," Madara stated, his voice faint, "What are you?"
Hashirama's laughter rumbled through his chest, making Madara writhe as he laved attention on his neck.
"I told you, I am many things," Hashirama's breath was cool against his ear, raising the hair at the nape of his neck, "But first and foremost I am an Incubus."
This statement shocked Madara into complete stillness.
"An…?" his wide-eyed stare was met by Hashirama's amused gaze.
"Incubus, yes." The Incubus placed a soft kiss on Madara's lips, "And you are my sweet little mortal victim." He breathed, kissing Madara again before sitting back on the foot of the bed to survey him.
Hashirama knew well why he had picked this human, a smirk finding its way onto his lips as he took in the sight of long legs and creamy, pale skin and a lithe frame and sweet lips and dark, silky hair and big, pretty eyes. His smirk becoming markedly more amused as Madara squirmed under his scrutinous gaze and blushed with his entire body.
Beauty and innocence, together in one person; something that had thrown his good judgment, causing him to return night after night, stealing Madara's warmth and vitality to use as his own, he had wallowed glutinously, partaking far more than he had needed, of far more than was safe for a mortal to give.
Madara stilled again as he watched Hashirama's face become solemn.
"Which happens to be the reason I'm here," he said at last, untying Madara and holding the younger man tight against him, his voice soft as his words tumbled out against Madara's throat, "I'm afraid I've done you a horrible disservice, I've come to you too many times. If I continue then I will soon drain you of all vitality and life," he paused, moving again, taking Madara's face in his hands and looking into his eyes, "But I have no wish to give you up, so I will offer you a choice."
There was a long silence as Hashirama stared intently into Madara's eyes, trying to convey all that he felt, trying to somehow rightfully win Madara's affection instead of only possessing his dreams.
"What is the choice?" Madara asked softly, he felt a pang in his chest; Hashirama looked absolutely desolate, his face—a gorgeous face, Madara realized—was drawn into a harsh frown, golden eyes shining with accepted guilt.
"You can choose to cast me out, have me exorcized from your home and never endure my company again. Or," Madara watched as Hashirama's lovely eyes became guardedly hopeful, "or you could give yourself willingly, and become fully mine."
Madara breathed out slowly. Never again? But hadn't a deep, secret part of him enjoyed it? Mine. He looked up at Hashirama, studying his features, trying to gage the sincerity he saw in his eyes. He unconsciously lifted a hand and caressed Hashirama's jaw, and beginning to jerk away when he realized what he was going, but Hashirama caught his hand, holding it, so gentle. Gentle.
He exhaled again, before leaning forward and pressing a feather-light and oh-so-tentative kiss to Hashirama's lips.
Hashirama felt as though his heart would burst with joy, Madara was his!
He deepened the kiss, coaxing open Madara's mouth and exploring it, pressing Madara back onto the bed, letting his hands roam freely, arousal growing with each pleasured sound Madara made. He kissed his way down Madara's neck to the junction of his shoulder.
The Incubus extended his fangs to their full length, sinking them into Madara's soft flesh, letting his power wash over Madara's soul.
Madara threw his head back and his eyes fluttered shut, his entire body arching against Hashirama as he felt pleasure so intense it hurt.
Hashirama withdrew his fangs, licking away the blood that pooled on the mark. As he did so he became aware of the fact that Madara was writhing beneath him, so ready and wanting and needy it was painful.
He deftly positioned Madara and began slowly to enter him, mercilessly teasing Madara as he begged Hashirama to just take him. The teasing continued, however, with Hashirama setting a languorous rhythm, until Madara arched against him again and made a keening, wanton, utterly sexy noise and his control snapped.
The rhythm of their lovemaking becoming harsh and furious and utterly fulfilling as they danced in the music of one another's bodies, pleasure becoming pain becoming pleasure again and the power of their act singing through their veins until they couldn't move or breath or even think of anything but each other and Madara was hoarse from screaming and Hashirama was full of so much warmth and life and love that he thought he might never need to feed on another's vitality again.
And at the end of it, they lied curled against one another in Madara's bed, two separate beings combined to make a whole; utterly content.
Ahhh.... no real comments to make about this one. I just got the idea from nerding around on Wikipedia and finding this really neat picture.
So R&R, ok?
Flames will be used to light the fire arrows that the Vikings will shoot at your house. Consider yourself warned.