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Tobirama had not expected to see Madara here.
Not on a quiet path, not without armor and without the roar of battle to separate them.
They both wore ordinary clothes, nothing that marked rank or clan, nothing that should have made this moment dangerous. Yet the air between them felt more charged than in the battlefield. Tobirama’s posture shifted almost imperceptibly, weight settling, breath steadying. Even unarmed, he prepared himself.
Madara didn’t need steel to kill him.
And Tobirama knew it.
But Tobirama also knew that if Madara tried, he would not walk away untouched. If the Uchiha clan head wanted to take him, Tobirama would make sure the price was steep.
Madara stopped a few paces away. His eyes were dark, darker than Tobirama had ever seen them on a battlefield. There was no wildness in them, no heat of combat, no flicker of the Sharingan. What lived there now was colder, heavier, and far more personal.
It was hatred sharpened into purpose.
“Tell me,” Madara said, voice low, “what you’ve been doing to Izuna.”
It wasn’t a question.
It was an accusation delivered like a blade pressed to the throat.
Tobirama’s shoulders stiffened for a heartbeat, then eased. A slow, controlled breath left him. The corner of his mouth lifted, not quite a smile — something more smug, something that acknowledged the truth Madara had already decided on.
So that was why Madara had come.
He had found out about them. And he thought he could intimidate Tobirama into stopping.
Tobirama’s gaze held steady, unblinking.
Madara’s killing intent pressed against him like a hand around the throat, silent and suffocating. Tobirama felt it, recognized it, and did not step back.
If anything, the faint smirk deepened.
Madara had come to threaten him.
But Tobirama had never once stepped away from an Uchiha.
Least of all this one.
If he wanted to know so much, Tobirama would inform him in excruciating detail.
He straightened, the forest around them falling into a tense, waiting silence.
“So,” Tobirama said quietly, “that is what this is about.”
Madara’s eyes narrowed down to slits in warning.
“If you must know, I’ve been fucking your prescious little brother” he dropped the bomb and watched disbelief wash over the Uchiha. As if he hadn’t chased Tobirama without knowing it.
“We meet weekly” Tobirama was smiling, “He likes to get stretched open by my cock” he tilted his head to the side.
"Doesn’t sleep well if we miss our weekly session” he knew exactly what his words were doing to Madara. “You should see him under me, he’s so needy for it, breaks so prettily when I make him come”
Memories flashed through Tobirama’s mind. Just two days ago, he had the younger Uchiha under him, flat on his back, leg over Tobirama’s shoulder as he fucked into the tight heat of that beautiful body.
His body temperature rises just from the memory of that encounter. Black hair sticking to the pale face flushed from roots of his hair all the way down to his chest, kiss swollen lips parted in a gasp, dark lashes and darker eyes looking at him with so much desire Tobirama’s hard from the thought of it.
“You’re lucky he’s your brother and not sister, he’d be carrying my second child by now” Tobirama says with some regret because he could just imagine Izuna as a woman. Face that pretty, body soft and full of curves instead of muscles.
Tobirama would still take him in the ass, watch Izuna’s pink cunt weep from desire and deny it, torment him until he’d taken his pleasure and then when he was ready to come, he’d plunge deep inside that needy cunt and spill his seed.
Tobirama never saw the first strike coming.
He had been too wrapped in the satisfaction of provoking Madara, too caught in the heat of remembering his encounter with Izuna, and that single lapse was all Madara needed. One moment Tobirama was smirking; the next, a fist crashed into his jaw with enough force to lift him off his feet.
He hit a tree hard, bark scraping his back as the impact rattled through him. He barely had time to register the blow before Madara was on him again — a blur of motion, a knee driving into his abdomen with brutal precision. The air punched out of his lungs, his body folding forward instinctively.
Madara’s hand closed around his throat.
The world snapped into sharp focus as his head was slammed back against the trunk. The impact sent a ringing through his skull, a dizzying jolt that made his vision swim. He felt the pressure of Madara’s grip, the weight of the man’s fury pressing into his windpipe.
But none of it dimmed the satisfaction curling through him.
Madara was burning.
“What’s the matter, Uchiha?” Tobirama rasped, voice strained but steady. “Jealous he needs me more than you?”
The smirk never left his lips.
Madara’s fist snapped his head to the side, the force of it sending a sharp sting through his cheek. Tobirama tasted iron, felt the world tilt for a heartbeat — but the smile stayed.
“I bet you wish it was you he was moaning for, his body’s so fucking tight, you won’t believe it” he murmured. “You want him too don’t you”
Madara didn’t hesitate.
He seized Tobirama by the front of his clothes, spun him with a single violent motion, and drove him face‑first into the tree. The impact was jarring, the rough bark scraping across his skin, the shock of it radiating through his skull.
Pain flared. The world pulsed.
Madara’s grip tightened.
But Tobirama’s smirk, faint and blood‑tinged, still clung to the corner of his mouth. Seems like he’d touched a nerve.
Because Madara’s rage was confirmation.
Nothing enraged the Uchiha more than the idea that Tobirama had touched something he considered his.
And Tobirama reveled in it.
And then Madara had Tobirama on his hands and knees, clothes ripped off him as he felt Madara pressed hard and pulsing at the crack of his ass.
“That hard just from the thought of him?” He said looking over his shoulder. It's as if he wanted to get destroyed by the Uchiha clan head.
But this had been a long time coming.
Tobirama knew Madara burned from a desire he could never admit to anyone, especially not to himself. The way this man loved Izuna with possessive fire had confused Tobirama for years.
Today Tobirama had given a name to the demon Madara has been hiding in the depth of his soul.
When Madara’s hard cock drives into him, all it brings is pain. All Tobirama feels is the burn of his body and the satisfaction that even if it was Madara that was ripping him open, it’s Tobirama who’s inflicted the wound Madara wouldn’t be able to heal from.
It takes time for the Senju to get used to the brutal thrusts. Madara’s touches are pure hate and violence. All he wants to do is inflict a pain nearly as painful as the one Tobirama had inflicted on him.
But Tobirama finds his voice back eventually as the pain subsides and pleasure takes over.
“We can share Madara” he gasps out between the thrusts that rocked his body “You can fuck into his pretty little mouth as I fill his ass” and Madara’s fingers are digging into his hips, leaving brises on his pale skin.
“Or would you like him bouncing on top of you, stretching his tight little hole around your thick cock as mine stretches his lips” Madara’s fingers are in his hair, pulling his head back with such force he feels like his neck would snap.
“He likes to be kissed you know” Tobirama’s voice hitches from the force of Madara’s thrusts “He mewls and melts into it, makes him come harder” and Madara’s gloved hand comes to grab around his throat from the back and cuts off his airway.
Tobirama couldn’t talk, couldn’t even breathe, all he could do was take and take all that Madara was giving him. Darkness takes over him as Madara’s hand tightens around his windpipe.
When Tobirama wakes up, he’s alone. Madara had taken his pleasure from his body and left it in ruin.
His head falls back on the ground with a sigh as he feels Madara’s semen drying between his legs.
Tobirama was bruised, aching and burning yet still painfully hard.
Well he’d just have to find Izuna to chase his own release won’t he.
The thought brings a slow smile to his bleeding lips.