I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart.

[forefather]

Who: Madara and Hashirama.
When: Saturday night until Sunday morning, after this.
Where: Hashirama's room.
Summary: Eighty years of violent sexual tension comes down to this.
Rating: R?
Warnings: Old men. Naked and gay. Post-sex cuddles. Shame and regret.

Comments

[forefather]

Madara laughed quietly against Hashirama's skin as those legs caught him. "What are you doing, idiot? One more round is sure to give you a heart attack, and then they'd all accuse me of killing you."

Killing Hashirama was, however, the last thing he felt like doing. Killing Hashirama was his duty, his responsibility, but as it turned out, it was not his desire. His hatred for the Senju clan might be limitless, but so was his love for Hashirama. No one alive might ever know it, but he had once loved Hashirama so deeply that he ached, and when Hashirama had turned away from him it drove him so far into madness that he was consumed entirely.

He didn't have to worry about that right now. He had Hashirama's complete attention right now. And, as Madara was prone to doing when attention was on him, he began talking. "Mm, you need to be like this all the time. You need to be more passionate. I always have to do the worst things to get you to look at me with fire in your eyes. I wish you would just look like this always. I hate the way you've chained yourself down."

[foundingfire]

"How many times must I tell you: I am not as fragile as you make me seem you pompous coot."

Naturally, he would actually feel concerned that Madara had made some sort of joke on his life but at the moment he was far to romanced to take anything seriously. The hands passed through those black locks again and again as he lifted his head, his brown eyes lazily opening. He was proving that he wasn't going to sleep, dammit. At Madara's last

"Are you telling me you act out like some child in order to get my attention? You are heartless, there is no other explanation. As heartless and spiteful as any devil." He trailed off in his amusement. How could he sound angry after such happy days? He didn't feel like he believed his words but something told him it was the thing to do.

[forefather]

Midnight was surely only minutes away. Madara was conscious of it as his eye fixed on his friend's face. The last time Hashirama had treated him this way was when he had amnesia. That reset had hit him with the force of a fist, a million painful memories returning all at once. That was how it was always going to be. The experiments would give him momentary relief, but he could never erase the past.

"I suppose it is childish," he replied, flashing a grin. "It isn't all about you, though. Only sometimes. Only partially. You make it worse, though. I was calm until you arrived. Then you drove me mad all over again."

[foundingfire]

Brown eyes eyed those moving lips as Madara continued to talk. Words, words, words, it was incredible how the Uchiha loved to talk. It was how he was always acting. Madara adored to be the center of attention, he strove to please the masses back when they were young and reckless.

Quite personally, Tobirama had called Madara Hashirama's worst piece of bad influence but the Senju always considered otherwise. They were fitting together. Hashirama was the Uchiha's restraint while giving the Senju a reason to perfect himself. There was no such thing as second-best to him, everything was always a competition. To winning ladies in bars to fighting amongst themselves, Madara always had the upper hand. Hashirama blamed those lips.

"Trying to lure me again with those lips of yours, Madara? You must be ma-"

And he stopped. Hands had moved from that messy hair to either side of the Uchiha's face but there was something terribly wrong. The smile that had once been painted against the Senju's face was gone and replaced by a shocked look. He seemed to have forgotten how to breath and what had once had been adoration swelling his chest, was slowly falling away into the first signs of regret, anger, and disgust. Midnight had passed. Hashirama was back.

He remained there for a few moments, stunned by the crash of emotions. He didn't know what to do, who was at fault, or why he had been doing what he had been doing. The memories were there, it wasn't like he had forgotten anything to begin with. He was frozen hoping Madara wasn't really there. His hands began to slowly move away from his face, not wanting to touch it.

[forefather]

That dark hour had finally come. There was very little change in Madara, however. Madara, who was already ruled by his emotions, his fleeting whims. He watched the change in Hashirama's face with his own lips frozen in a rueful smile. If an eclipse could happen in mere seconds, he supposed that it would look something like Hashirama's face at that moment.

He didn't say anything. His gaze dropped away in brief consideration of the crimes he'd committed in the past week, and also the crimes against him. He supposed that his crimes outweighed the others. After all, the jury would rule that he hadn't suffered nearly enough in his life, and that he must be punished further.

And here he was, in bed with the judge. The judge, who was glaring up at him with eyes full of hatred and disgust.

He breathed a weak laugh and returned his gaze to Hashirama. Well, let the real sentencing begin, then.

[foundingfire]

Hashirama still hadn't bothered to breath as he tried to get as far away as he could from where he now lay. He felt the weight of the other above him, he felt sick. It wasn't until he heard that weak laugh that his body reacted fully, breaking away from that mesmerizing spell.

His lungs took their first breath as he gagged, realizing just how much the entire room smelled of the vile man above him. He was sweaty, he could feel his skin sticking to the man above him. Legs came down as hands came up to shove the disgusting vile rat away.

"Wh-What have I-"

He was surrounded by him, he could feel Madara's presence everywhere. He was disgusted, entirely distraught at what he had done. He glared at Madara as if it had all been his fault.

"What were you thinking!"

[forefather]

Madara allowed himself to be touched, to be shoved away. He fell backwards off the bed, sprawling on the floor with the bedsheets twisted around his legs. For a moment he sat there, watching Hashirama between messy strands of hair with his lips pressed into an unreadable line.

Then he rose, utterly composed for someone who had just been tossed from a bed like a filthy whore. "Are you asking me or yourself?" he cooed, unraveling the sheets from around him and letting them fall to his feet. Hashirama would burn those. He knew that he would.

Madara then turned, taking his eyes off his enemy to locate his discarded robes. He found them a few feet away, and bent to pick them up so that he could clothe himself properly.

[foundingfire]

Hashirama was still drenched in his self disgust as he saw Madara move. How could he move as if without a care in the world. It was painful to watch. The young Shodaime found himself surrounded by his anger. He wanted to rip that face apart even though just minutes again he had been so close to kissing it. Kissing it!

"I am asking you!"

It was an impulse to reach out and attack. He lunged forward reaching for his clothing at the side of his bed. He always learned to carry a weapon and the first thought that had entered his thought was to injure him. He reached up to bring a sharp end against smooth flesh.

[forefather]

Madara made a small noise of surprise, a choked whimper in his throat. His head had been bowed, his robe just barely draped on his shoulders when the blade sank into his side. The puncture was deep; it had come fast and it had struck true.

Slowly, he turned and raised his eye to meet Hashirama's murderous gaze. "Oh," he breathed quietly. His lips twisted into a smile. "I've gone too far. Again."

He staggered back, then fell to his knees. What a fatal wound that would have been, if he was an ordinary and mortal man. Even now, blood was rising up in his throat. But he wasn't finished. So he bowed low before Hashirama, his hair tumbling down to leave his neck exposed. It was the posture of a traitor waiting to be beheaded.

[foundingfire]

The wound on Madara's side wasn't enough to quench the Senju. He couldn't shake off the fact they had been so close. The Uchiha was like a plague, Hashirama had foolishly gotten himself captured by it. The object was still in his hand, dripping away slowly. He didn't catch Madara's movements until that head was bent low before him. He frowned.

"Killing you now would be pointless. Not while I reek of your scent. You choose the darnedest times to fake being humble, you snake."

Hashirama was no stranger to murder and the look on Madara's dying face had been one he had become quite accustomed to see considering how many times it had been now. Killing Madara wasn't a chore on its own, that wasn't what pained him. It was the fact that he had to do. No one trusted Hashirama when it came to his reasons, but he couldn't kill the willing Uchiha. That wasn't what he was trying to do.

The day no one had to kill Madara, the day Madara didn't want to kill anyone, was the day Hashirama was waiting for. Would it come? He doubted it. Truly. But he promised he wouldn't give up on his attempts. He didn't know what good it would make. That didn't stop him from kicking the Uchiha as he moved the sheets to cover himself.

[forefather]

Madara cried out when he was kicked. His arms gave out and he fell forward, his chin smacking into the floor. Blood splashed from the wound and his mouth, further tainting Hashirama's once-pristine room. He made one attempt to push himself up, then resigned himself to lying sprawled on the ground. Blood continued to pool around him, blackish-red seeping slowly over white.

He didn't say anything for a while, only making pained gasps as he tried to breathe with a lung full of fluid. Eventually it became easier, his sick bubbly hiccups becoming wheezes. His inhuman body repairing... Even when his twitching had calmed, he remained on the floor like a corpse.

"I..." he uttered finally, his voice thick. "I didn't want to..."

[foundingfire]

The Senju was moving about the room as if having a bleeding Uchiha on his floor was something very usual for him. He was slipping on his robe as he heard Madara mutter. His wheezing and gasping did nothing for Hashirama. Really, the man deserved some pain now and again so this was beyond what he could have ever received. He felt foolish for his attack done by impulse, but he wasn't going to regret it now. He enjoyed it.

"What lies do you intend to speak of now?" He asked as he closed he tied the front of his robe as he brought a foot to turn Madara around. on his back. He frowned. He had made quite a mess in his own room.

[forefather]

"Nngh..." Madara rolled back as he was forced, his blood-smeared face turning up towards Hashirama. He swallowed hard. Speaking would be a lot easier if Hashirama could spare a moment to heal Madara, but he obviously couldn't bother with it. Maybe he was still holding out hope that Madara would die there on his floor.

"It's not a lie," he murmured. "I didn't have a choice... Not any more than you had a choice to take me into your bed, Hashi." He paused, sucking in a wet breath. "But I am sorry. I am. I didn't want it to be like this. I thought we had..." But he let his voice trail off there.

[foundingfire]

"You thought we had what?"

Madara was correct, it was pointless to throw the blame upon a single person in the room but Hashirama was far too deep into this to consider it otherwise. He had tried his darnedest, he had kept his distance. He was upset at himself that he hadn't been able to cope. It was as if he had been holding no inhibitions and the thought that he was willing to sleep with his enemy during a period of losing his mind frightened him. What if he had done worse? Certainly, he could never join Madara's cause no matter how much he adored and detested the man. He was not a child of chaos, he was the seeker for peace. Hashirama was the light while Madara represented all the darkness in the world. They could not blend

...but they could join in the most sinful of ways. It tore the Senju apart.

"I-It meant nothing to you. It never has. I despise you enough to kill you and you have clearly taken it a sport to watch your old enemy suffer. That was made clear before in this facility."

Regardless, Hashirama couldn't stop thinking of Madara's words. That he wanted attention? Well of course Madara wanted attention, he lived to be the spotlight. But it meant nothing. At least Hashirama was hoping so. He rolled Madara a bit more to eye the wound on his side. It was bleeding a bit less. The man was healing.

[forefather]

Without a thought to it, Madara's hand moved to cover his wound. He didn't want Hashirama to see it. It didn't even matter, really. It wasn't as if Hashirama's eyes could see the secrets behind his jutsu. But he didn't want to find himself under Hashirama's knife, his inhuman regeneration observed the same way he'd watched Kanda repair himself.

Maybe he just liked to believe he could make Hashirama see him forever the way he had been when they were young. Fragile. After all, his rival would never cower before his immortal might. He would only shake his head in disgust and look away.

"I had meant to show you I'd changed," Madara uttered weakly. "I'd wanted you to see that you didn't need to imprison me, to force me to behave. I wanted to show you that I could choose good, that I could choose you." He shook his head slowly, averting his eyes. "But I... I see now that my nature overpowers my choices."