Madara knocks on the door, though he knows Tobirama must already know that he's here.
Hopefully he'll answer. Madara is capable of overpowering the wards on his house, and he will if he has to, but he's only here to make sure Tobirama is, in Hashirama's words, "doing okay" and it really won't be worth the effort when all needs to do is make sure Tobirama is alive and walking.
"Please Madara? He probably won't even let me through the door, he's so mad at me right now." Hashirama had begged him, crocodile tears already shining in his eyes, "I'll buy all your drinks next time we go out!"
Madara plans to exact that promise for all that it's worth, not that he thinks it will be much; more importantly, whatever it is that's so bad that it's gotten Tobirama of all people to miss work is worth checking in on in person. If he keels over and dies before he finish revising the plans he's working on before they have to meet with the daimyo, it will be more of a pain than dealing with him being pissy over Madara breaking into his house.
Madara waits an entire thirty seconds for Tobirama to answer the door, but if there's any movement inside the privacy seals all over the house keep him from sensing it. He doesn't have the patience for any more than that, so, with a huff, he puts his hand on the door frame and starts carefully sinking his chakra in to test the edge of the wards.
The door is jerked open in practically the very same moment, leaving Madara face-to-face with a very disgruntled Tobirama.
His hair is askew, his face his flushed, and the yukata he's wearing is gaping wide at the neck, like he's only just tossed it on. He doesn't greet Madara, just fixes him with a narrow-eyed glare.
Eh. He's alive. Worse for wear, clearly, but that's not really his business, and if he can make it to the door then he's probably not about to die in the immediate future.
"Just here for a wellness check." Madara says, flat. "If you think you're gonna keel over, speak up now."
Long fingers drum on an arm where Tobirama has folded them tight. He watches Madara in silence for another long moment before, voice slightly low and rough, he says. "Unlikely, but not impossible." And then, in the same tone someone might ask about the weather, "Would you be willing to fuck me?"
Madara's, halfway to turning away and leaving, freezes in place. Evidently Tobirama isn't fine if he's gone insane enough to ask Madara a question like that out of nowhere. His expression must give away his incredulity -- Tobirama rolls his eyes like Madara is the one who's behaving strangely.
"I take it Hashirama didn't tell you what he's done." Tobirama sighs and takes a step back, but he leaves the door wide open, "You'd better come in."
…Should he? Madara can easily admit that he is now morbidly curious about whatever is going on here, and if Tobirama is going to ask that -- and so nicely, too -- he can at least hear him out. Because, after brief consideration, he is willing.
Feeling a bit like he's walking into trap, or maybe the den of a wild animal, Madara follows Tobirama into his home. By the time he's done removing his sandals, Tobirama is busying himself in the kitchen with a pot of tea. Madara sits at a table that's clearly been hastily cleared of clutter and lets his eyes wander. It's… homier than he'd imagined. The books and scrolls littering every surface are expected -- the knick-knacks are not. Without context, Madara has no idea if they're sentimental or if they're things that Tobirama plans to use in future experiments. They could be gifts, maybe? But who would give Tobirama anything but his oaf of a brother?
Between that and the way Tobirama is fussing about in the kitchen like Madara being in his home is a regular occurrence, he can't help but feel as though he somehow managed to step into another dimension between here and the hokage tower.
When Tobirama brings the pot over and sits across from him, he wears an unimpressed frown, but his usually stern demeanor is weakened by the way his shoulders slump and his blinking is sluggish. When he pours the tea, the stream isn't half as steady as it should be coming from any shinobi, much less Tobirama.
The Senju picks up the cup and closes his eyes for a long moment, like he's basking in the rising steam.
"As you know, anija and I have been working on improving the defenses around the village." He says with no preamble, "A combination of seal work and mokuton. Because we haven't devised a way to guarantee someone non-hostile can't trigger them, we've settled on a first line of defense that is non-lethal and difficult to detect to those without foreknowlege."
He pauses, takes a long sip of his tea eyes still half-lidded. Is this -- some sort of sideways attempt at seduction?
"We've been testing out several combinations of things, one of which is an airborne toxin that my brother can manufacture in large quantities, and have gone back and forth on dosage and effects. Earlier today, anija got distracted from what we were working on, lost control of some of the plants he was growing, and I got a lungful of the current batch."
Madara leans back, marveling at just how defeated Tobirama sounds, no matter that he's trying to cover it up with annoyance.
"You said non-lethal. So you will be fine."
"Eventually. But in the meantime I'm debilitatingly aroused, and it's only gotten worse as time has gone on."
That's -- huh.
"…I don't see how being fucked would make you less aroused."
Tobirama snorts.
"The only relief I've been able to find comes after release. I came for the third time just before you arrived." Madara doesn't choke on his tea, but he is forced to take a scalding hot swallow in order to avoid it. "I'm of the understanding that sharing the experience with someone else is more satisfying."
"Have you not --" Had sex before? But no, that's the wrong question, he almost certainly hasn't from the way he's talking about it. The better question would be, "-- That is, are your faculties in tact?"
"My perception isn't altered if that's what your asking." Tobirama frowns, "And I believe this lowering of inhibitions is a side effect of how I'm feeling, not a direct effect from the toxin… If you're not willing, I'd prefer you leave as soon as possible."
No kidding. Madara spends half a moment wondering if Tobirama would try and seek out another partner if he did, before discarding the idea, because he's not going to give him the chance.
"Oh, I'm willing" Madara purrs, now very aware of the way Tobirama reacts to his proximity as he leans closer. The slight clench of one fist, the jump of muscles and near silent intake of breath. The way his eyes, usually so eager to slide off of him are fixed on his mouth and the grin he's now sporting. "Just wanted to make sure we're on the same page, is all."
"If you are, then let's get on with it." Tobirama snaps, but there's the slightest waver to his voice. Madara feels strangely giddy as they both stand. The image of Tobirama underneath him is a powerful one, the chance to tease him apart and make him beg a thing he thought too ridiculous to ever ask for. Now here's the opportunity handed to him on a silver platter.
The bedroom is a mess, though that's not surprising now that Madara knows what Tobirama has been doing in here for the better part of the day. Tobirama's futon is askew where its laid out on the floor, pillow and blanket tossed haphazardly to the side. Before they're even fully inside, Tobirama has loosened his yukata so much that its starting to fall off his shoulders.
"Exited?"
Tobirama turns to shoot him a glare.
"Impatient."
Probably more like desperate, not that Madara is going to mention that -- at least not until he's certain Tobirama won't rescind his offer. And despite his words, he remains where he stands, his single minded focus directed at the way Madara slides his fingers under one glove to peel it off. He removes one and then the other with casual slowness, as though he hasn't noticed the way red eyes track every movement.
"Well?" He asks, letting the leather drop to the floor, "If you're so impatient then lie down. Unless you'd prefer I take you standing?"
Tobirama jerks back around, and stalks the few steps to his futon. He drops to his knees, then he hesitates, like he's not sure how he wants to position himself. Madara chalks it up to inexperience more than self-consciousness, considering how they got here. He springs on the opening -- Madara can easily see Tobirama deciding he wants to lay himself straight and stiff like a log, and though it's a funny image, it's not how he actually wants this encounter to go. He sinks to sit next to Tobirama, loose and easy. The Senju's hand comes up, fingers twitching, only to fall before they can close even half the distance between them.
Madara resists the urge to draw it out. There will be far more fun ways to make Tobirama squirm coming shortly.
"Come here." He says, low and coxing. He reaches for the hand that Tobirama dropped and gently tugs at it. That's all he needs -- Tobirama considers it for another wary moment before letting himself be pulled closer. He's tense, but he's not fighting it.
Tobirama is a beautiful man. Now, already half-nude and sitting nearly in his lap, Madara can truly appreciate it. Those lovely red eyes, the lithe muscle, and the way he lets Madara easily manipulate his hands to rest on his waist, when he's normally so resistant to even being touched... What a heady thing.
He runs a thumb up Tobirama's jaw, traces the red line on his cheek until his fingers push back Tobirama's hair as though he's brushing it out of his face, though it's not long enough for that. Tobirama's throat bobs, but he doesn't resist the way Madara tilts his head and pulls him into a kiss.
Tobirama's grip on his hips grows so tight for a moment that Madara wonders if he's misstepped, but then a tiny hum escapes him and its he goes practically boneless in Madara's hold, lips parting to trade uncoordinated kisses that quickly become demanding. Madara had never imagined him to be this eager, not even with his inhibitions as lowered as they are.
Has he even done this before? Or am I his first in this as well? The thought sends a bolt of heat directly to Madara's groin. To be the one that every future encounter is compared to. To be given the chance to make sure they never measure up --
His other hand fumbles to pull away what little clothing to Tobirama's that remains. They break apart only long enough for Tobirama to shrug off his yukata and Madara his shirt. Tobirama -- unsurprisingly -- is wearing nothing underneath it. His cock is hard already, red and weeping and probably has been for hours. Madara's is slowly filling to join it, as his hands roam all the pale skin that's been laid bare before him.
Tobirama sucks in a sharp breath when Madara runs his palm down his chest, and when Madara grins and pinches the pale pink bud between two fingers and rolls it, his whole body spasms.
"You -- ah -- There's no need for you to bother with this. I'm already --" Tobirama's breath catches as Madara moves to do the same to the other nipple, "I'm already aroused. You can just…"
Madara hasn't stopped teasing as he's talked, and it seems to have made Tobirama lose his train of thought entirely, complaint forgotten as Madara leans in to kiss him again. That will be good to keep in mind for later.
"I haven't been dosed with an aphrodisiac." Madara reminds when he breaks the kiss again, "I need some time to work up to it. But don't you worry, I'm enjoying myself."
Tobirama's only response to that is a narrow eyed glare, which Madara answers by softly biting his chin, and from there moving his lips down Tobirama's throat which is easily -- eagerly -- bared to him, a soft sigh escaping Tobirama's lips as his eyes flutter closed.
He takes great enjoyment out of slowly mapping out the feverish body under his hands. Tobirama shivers at his touch, goes from tense to pliant when Madara finds a particularly sensitive spot -- h is ribs, hips, the soft skin on the inside of this thighs and knees. Tobirama keeps mostly silent through Madara's exploration, but his body betrays him. The is practically straddling his thigh and Madara can feel the tiny aborted thrusts as Tobirama stops himself from rutting onto his leg.
Just to prove a point, Madara drops his mouth from where he's been making marks on Tobirama's neck to lick and suck at one of those nipples that he now knows is sensitive. Tobirama hisses, nails digging in where they find purchase in the meat of Madara's shoulder.
"You can-- just --" Tobirama pants, eyes averted. Madara doesn't have him begging yet, but he can feel Tobirama's thighs trembling and decides he can be a little merciful -- or more exactly that the wants to get things moving along.
When Madara pushes Tobirama off of him and onto the futon, it's without any of the stiffness from earlier. He lies where Madara settles him, only moving to turn his face into the blanket that's already bunched around his shoulders, like it will hide anything.
A glance around the room reveals several containers that could hold slick, and knowing Tobirama at least one of them is a deadly poison that will kill them both if Madara gets his fingers in it.
"Did you finger yourself?" He asks, surprising himself with how husky his own voice has gotten from just the teasing he's done so far. Tobirama huffs, somehow even more dramatic about it than he usually is.
"A bit. Even like this, it didn't seem worth the effort."
…And yet he asked Madara to fuck him so eagerly? Maybe he's worse off than Madara realized.
"I'm sure I can get a better angle." He soothes. And he actually knows what he's doing, "Lube?"
"…The white jar." Tobirama mumbles, a loose gesture to the mess of things on the bottom of the nearest shelf. Sure enough, there's a container with some neutral smelling cream inside, and the tell-tale marks of a finger having been dipped in. Madara scoops some out for himself. Tobirama watches him rub it between his fingers as though hypnotized -- that expression on his face make his stomach clench, hot with electricity. One of the proudest men he's ever met, at his mercy...
Tobirama's muscles twitch when Madara pushes one knee to the side, and his throat bobs when Madara glances up at him to find him biting at his lower lip. He looks like he's leapt of life straight out of a shunga print, totally exposed to him like this.
Whatever slick Tobirama had used before is dried now, and when cups Tobirama's balls and dips his fingers lower to circle his hole, the Senju shivers, or maybe shudders. Though he can slip one finger in easily enough, Tobirama immediately clenches around him, tight and hot.
"Well it's no wonder you didn't enjoy it," He says, rubbing a coaxing circle into the soft flesh of Tobirama's thigh, "You've got to relax."
Tobirama makes a discontented noise, but a moment later he sighs and Madara can feel Tobirama forcibly relax under him.
"Good, good." Madara tells him thoughtlessly as he starts moving his finger again, searching for the spot that Tobirama wasn't able to find, more to prove a point than anything else. Look at how much better this is when I do it.
He knows exactly when he's found it. He doesn't so much as graze the spot when Tobirama throws back his head and yowls, like the sound has been punched out of him. His prostate must be extra sensitive, having spent all this time aroused and not having been touched -- if this is his fist time with the experience, on top of that---
Madara crooks his finger and rubs at it relentlessly, and Tobirama's panting gets higher and louder, until every breath is a strangled cry or some garbled approximation of a word that might just be Madara's name. His back arches off the futon, trembling; Tobirama comes with a sob, and without Madara having touched his cock at all.
Madara doesn't remove his finger, but he does stop moving them, giving himself a chance to appreciate Tobirama, head lolled back and lips parted, chest splattered with cum. The moment doesn't last nearly as long as it should. Tobirama only lays lax for a few heaving breaths before shuddering, blinking a few time, and turning to look at Madara from under his lashes.
"You ought to continue." Tobirama says it admirably evenly, all things considered. But his voice is husky, and breathing uneven. Despite having just come, is dick is still hard, red and flush against his stomach.
Madara hums, distracted by the thought of making Tobirama come for him, over and over. Like this, it would be easy, but he thinks he'd like to do that without the help of some failed attempt at village defense. No, he'll do what Tobirama asked, for now. It's much easier to fit another finger in when Tobirama is still lose from orgasm.
He is, admittedly, careless in the rest of his preparation, though Tobirama makes no complaint about it, just small noises and quiet sighs. If he's impatient, Tobirama must be doubly so, right? And he probably can't tell pain from pleasure too well in this state, always.
Still, he has time for one more tease, he leans down and kisses the head of Tobirama's cock.
"Madara--" It might be an admonishment, but Tobirama's voice breaks and his hips jerk, smearing fluid over Madara's lips. He licks it off and meets Tobirama's gaze, the expression now something near devastated.
"Fuck me already." Tobirama commands. Begs. His voice wavers, his eyes, his body, are desperate, and the sight him like this so powerfully erotic that Madara makes no attempt to resist. It's already taking enough of his will not to activate his sharingan and burn this into his memory forever.
Madara wastes no more time. He probably tears seams with the force he rips the remains of his clothes off, tossing them them away, and pulling Tobirama's legs up and over his shoulders. He reaches for more slick, stroking own cock a few times to get it slicked up, though he needs no help getting any harder. The way Tobirama gasps and turns to hide his face when Madara lines up the head of his cock is delicious. Madara doesn't even mean to make him wait, but just the sight of Tobirama, splayed out in front of him, shivering and panting, splotchy red blush down his chest, having come once for him already is --
His blood is burning hot. And extra second or two will be to both of their benefit, but then Tobirama whimpers and Madara's restraint snaps.
They both groan as he pushes the head in in, and Madara itches to bite something. Tobirama, maddingly, twitches and clenches around him, and he moans, which doesn't make it any easier for Madara to keep his composure. The heat is perfect, but the pressure is bordering on too much too fast, even a touch painful, which only lessens his restraint.
"Fuck-- Tobirama -- " All the thoughts he had about further teasing fly from his head, instead the dizzy heat flaring in Madara's veins draws out nonsense that's something like honesty, "You're gorgeous. Taking me so well, and all for me."
Tobirama's hand comes up to stifle another moan, though if it's as a result of his words or because he's finally bottomed out Madara can't guess and doesn't care to.
"No. Let me hear you." He reaches out, grabs the offending arm and pulls it away, laces their fingers together for good measure. Tobirama only watches every line in his body and the flutter of his lashes screaming hunger. Madara swallows thick, the urgency in his own body feeling like a match.
Madara means to keep it slow at first, he does, but the sensation of Tobirama tight around him is so perfect that he rolls his hips only until his finds the angle that makes Tobirama cry out again -- before pounding into him in earnest.
He's speaking nonsense, but he can't even hear himself over Tobirama's wailing. 'Ah!' interspersed with what might be meant to be another command, but just comes out as breathy, broken off calls of 'Madara!' Or care, how could he care about anything more than the sight of Tobirama, cock bobbing to his thrusts in him, head thrown back, mouth open and drooling, eyes wide open, unfocused, and glimmering with unshed tears as Madara fucks him into the bedding. Who could be expected to be patient under these circumstances?
Madara can feel his climax building frighteningly quickly, so he reaches down and strokes him as in time with his thrusts as steady he can manage. Tobirama's cries become hoarse, wordless sobs.
It doesn't take much. A few more thrusts and Tobirama screams, entire body going taut as he comes, over his stomach and Madara's hand. The pressure on Madara's cock grows even tighter and has him following after a few more stuttering thrusts, his entire body euphoric with heat and tension.
He only barely has enough presence of mind not to fall forward into the mess Tobirama's made. He pulls out with another groan and topples to the side, sated and boneless. He recognizes, through his post-orgasmic haze, the way Tobirama twitches from the aftershocks, the lovely fucked out look on his slack face. His dick has even gone limp and looks to be staying that way.
Madara is slow and unwilling the shake off the afterglow, and by the time he's come down enough to feel like he might want to bathe, he's also aware enough to realize that Tobirama hasn't moved a muscle. He breathes, but his eyes are nearly closed and his body lies spread and slack where Madara left it. Relaxed -- or exhausted -- enough to doze off even with Madara right next to him.
…He could just leave, but -- no, Madara isn't that inconsiderate of a partner, not even to Tobirama, and letting that much cum dry on someone's stomach is just cruel. With great effort, Madara pushes himself to his feet, and reaches down to pull Tobirama with him.
He's a complete dead weight, his legs shake and stumble, and Madara has to resort to looping an arm around his waist and dragging him along.
Luckily, Tobirama lives in a modern home, with plumbing for a shower and even an electric water heater, which Madara has never seen the point in until right this very moment. Though he has to wait for it to warm up, that feels like a better alternative than trying to do something that requires as much control as heating water right now. As soon as it's warm to touch, Madara drags himself and Tobirama under the stream, prompting a confused noise out of Tobirama, but not enough concern for him to actually open his eyes. He lets his not insignificant weight lean on Madara, leaves his cheek pressed to his shoulder, touches him far more than he strictly has to. Very strange, coming from Tobirama.
Madara has no idea what the emotion the realization sparks in his chest is when he realizes that it's probably some attempt at cuddling. He barks out a quiet laugh, but even than isn't enough to prompt more than a tired hum from the man.
Madara can't get as clean as he wants with Tobirama all over him like this, but he finds he doesn't mind so much at the moment. He's clean enough, and Tobirama is too, so he finds a towel (a mostly clean one, which was surprisingly difficult), dries them off, and spares the theatrics to just scoop Tobirama into a bridal carry to bring him back to bed.
His head bounces on Madara's chest, the sight of it is almost endearing. Maybe…
Yes, Madara will have to get him to this point again. Soon, preferably. For today, he's worn himself out enough that letting Tobirama nap tucked under his arm doesn't sound like the worst thing in the world.