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Relative Insanity	By : Snowway32 Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1789 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto and any of the characters created there within. This is purely a pleasure to write on my part, I make no money from this. The rightful owner, Masashi Kishimoto has the sole rights to all Naruto characters.

Chapter List
- 1-Relative Insanity
- 1
Wow, I’ve been writing a lot these days as I’ve found quite the bit of inspiration from the manga. This one shot was something I had to create, I just love the implications of it and if you do not like Madara/Hashirama then please don’t read this.

I’ll issue a strong warning: the first two parts of this story most of the spoken lines are taken from Chapter 624 and 625 of the manga and if you have not read up till those chapters, most of this story will contain serious spoilers. So please don’t read if you don’t want the story to be spoiled for you!

Anyway, for those who wish to continue, I hope you enjoy it.

It was happening again...the world was fading around him, dissolving into a blur of colours and sounds until nothing but one solitary focal point remained. A single focal point that was driving him insane, begging for his sole attention so much so that the continuous fighting and suffering of his clan and comrades around him as they fought a heady battle was nothing but a distant cacophony of dulled sounds to his ears. Infinitely dark brown eyes looked towards his hands that were trembling by his side, sneering at the reaction in disgust as he literally quivered with the excitement he could barely contain.

He was there. He was coming. It was impossible to miss the moment he stepped upon any battlefield. His haunting presence and dark chakra always brought a brush of heated pleasure across tanned skin...

Despite the sense of trepidation that built through Hashirama's veins in having to face him again, anxiousness was crossing his aching heart in continues flashes of images of a long forgotten friendship. He still did not want to do this, even if he was terribly thrilled at the prospect of seeing his friend again. Uchiha Madara was a force to be reckoned with, one that could either destroy Hashirama should he so much as falter one step or challenge him to the heights of his own infinite power with shuddering pleasure.

Just how would it feel to stand beside this man...side by side, shoulder to shoulder and hand in hand to create the village of peace from their childhood dreams? Hashirama could ask himself that question again and again and again but still gain no appropriate answer. He could not describe the sensations of just imagining how it would feel if his proffered peace treaty was to be accepted. Even though it seemed impossible with his messengers usually coming back half dead from their missions, Hashirama had no will to give up just yet. There was still a light in Madara's eyes, a forgotten light that may be dulled by his anger and hatred but Hashirama saw that flicker of exhausted compassion and admiration often enough when their swords clashed, often enough that he still held out blind hope.

He shuddered suddenly, brushing away a stray lock of hip length black hair that the wind tugged into his eyes, watching transfixed as the dark blur rising across the horizon of the battlefield began to take its definitive shape. Madara's movements were a haze of red, black and orange flame against the bright morning dawn. An ethereal glow of power and malevolent chakra surrounding him like a cloak of darkness and regret.

'Nii-sama,' Tobirama called from somewhere behind him in warning and Hashirama nodded. 'I know.' There was no need to say it, he had a job to do and that was all that mattered in that single moment. With chakra aiding his movements in carrying him away from the main fighting forces, he prepared himself to meet his rival head to head in the middle of the empty battlefield.

There was something different about Madara though, Hashirama noted. Something had taken place, manifesting itself in his friend's desperately moving form and violent, exploding anger...

Sharingan red eyes, taking their shape the closer the enemies came to their inevitable clash, seemed clouded and dulled by a definitive sorrow so deep that the leader of the Senju Clan felt his breath stall in his chest for a second before their blades crossed and the world swam back into full contrast with only the two of them existing within its centre. It was like an explosion of emotions, pain and desperation that flooded through both their bodies with just that one clash. Hashirama could feel even his fingers go numb from the force of Madara's raging strength and deepening hatred.

This wasn't normal; something had definitely happened. And as they began to dance around each other in their usual collision of power: taijutsu matched block for block, ninjutsu weaving new forests and destroying mountains around their forms with strength and power not supposed to be seen in the world and genjutsu cast and dispelled, Hashirama continued to feel a little bit of him rebelling against this new recklessness Madara showed.

It wasn't right; no one was supposed to suffer the pain he could see in those deep red eyes.

The Uchiha Clan leader was reckless and sloppy in his fighting. He had already given Hashirama several obvious openings to kill him, and yet the Senju refused to do so. This was not a fight of strength and prowess anymore...a simple clash of rivalry upon a battlefield that they always shared...no, this was a clash of eternal sorrow and desperation that his friend did not know how to deal with.

A fight where he deliberately wanted to die by Hashirama's hands. And his will, no matter how well hidden behind angry glares and a cold disposition, it was palpable to Hashirama now. Having always been overly empathetic towards others' emotions and sensitive to their internal will, the Senju could feel his long time friend's wish clearly within every traded blow and exhausting chakra powered attack.

His friend's pain, the sorrow and desperation...they were like his own, now. But just where was it coming from, what could have caused it?

'What happened?' Hashirama finally questioned, parrying another swipe of that deadly scythe and fan as he jumped back to balance himself on the water. Wincing at the gaping wound on his shoulder at his miscalculated timing, a silly mistake brought on by the sudden influx of dangerous emotions rushing around them and tainting their chakra.

'Izuna, he died from his wounds.' Madara spoke for the first time since they had started their fight, answering Hashirama's question even though the younger Shinobi had clearly not expected him to. 'He left this strength to me, in order to protect the Uchiha.' A swirl of red and black coloured familiar red eyes seconds later and Hashirama felt a foreboding sensation race up his spine; a chill of fear colouring his erratically heart.

That wasn't the normal Mangekyo he had seen Madara use.

No, it was something much more complex and darker than he thought.

In spite of standing before an enemy, heaving for breath as they tended to do in between little breaks of their fighting, despite being in range to be killed by Madara if he decided to move in for the kill whilst Hashirama healed his leaking wound. The slightly older shinobi still did not move to take his chance and Hashirama saw a brief flash of compassion in those red eyes that he had always known his friend had possessed. But it was gone in another flash of enraged hatred...

When facing the Uchiha like this, it was nothing but raw emotion and communication through actions that saw them through to the end of their battles. But now, Hashirama could feel nothing but despair and pain for his friend's plight. Feeling Madara's turmoiled emotions as if it were all his own pain and suffering. As the pacifist that constantly lived within him came forth, the Senju wanted nothing more than to extend his hand in an offer of peace once and for all.

'Madara! I have sent you a ceasefire agreement, if you want to protect the Uchiha Clan, then let's stop this fight.' Hashirama called out suddenly, surprised by his own emotional crack in his voice as he took on a non-threatening stance. His shoulder was still aching from the healed over wound but he made no move to show any hostility. This was a crucial moment shared between them. A crucial moment that perhaps one day would be spoken of as the one that had started peace.

'Hashirama! When are you going to stop spouting your childish dreams?! Huh?!' Madara yelled and Hashirama sighed with disappointment. Apparently it wasn't going to be that easy right? If he let his depression problem overwhelm him now, it was really going to be the end. But he couldn't help the everlasting flicker of grief chasing through his body as he looked towards Madara now. He must have been in excruciating pain, his heart must have been aching...his little brother dead...just like little Itama and all the others. It hurt, Hashirama knew because losing a precious Otouto that you were supposed to protect was worse than any other pain imaginable.

No, he shook his head. He could not go down that path now, not when Madara was preparing his next devastating attack.

'We can't come to terms!' The next time they clashed weapon to weapon, it was a desperate fight of Mokuton against Susano'o and lost will against hope. Ideal against ideal. But deep down Hashirama had already rejected his friend's last cry of defensiveness. No, they could come to terms. He just had to make him see that he too was feeling Madara's pain and he too could protect what was held so dear to Madara's heart. It did not matter that some Uchiha deserters had come seeking asylum from the Senju Clan.

He would bring Madara under his protection too, as his equal...now he just had to show him.

~~~~

'Its enough Hashirama, I yield.' Madara whispered softly, his entire body falling forward exhaustedly against the younger shinobi as he lost his balance on the water. Their weapons were strewn somewhere along the Naka River banks, their chakra reserves severely depleted as the geography of land had shifted after an entire day spent locked in fierce combat. They were both at their limit and they both knew it well.

Hashirama felt his breath rasping in his throat as he too fought to keep the two of them now afloat on the water's surface. He had the perfect opportunity to kill his opponent once and for all, but he had not wanted it to end up like this. He did not want anyone else to see Madara this weakened and dependant on his enemy, just as he was sure that Madara had given up on his life already. If he was relying on Hashirama's strength to keep them afloat like this, he had lost the last of his resolve, yielding for the first time as if his realization of his defeat had darkened Madara's heart.

'It's fine,' Hashirama whispered suddenly, his heart clenching painfully against his chest as he felt slickened blood drip down his torso and stain his clothes. The source of the red liquid from one of Madara's more dangerous and deadly wounds colouring his side. 'My offer has not changed, it will never change, Uchiha Madara.' The leader of the Senju said truthfully, sincerely meaning every single word that he spoke. Hashirama even went as far as to raise his hand and subtly seal the dripping wound Madara had sustained on his side with his own depleted chakra. Wincing internally as the older of the two coughed up blood on his shoulder that splattered sickeningly warm against his neck.

He could feel his friend try to pull away from him, probably wanting to die from the injury, but Hashirama wouldn't let him. He wound his arm around Madara's neck in warning, tugging at the long black strands that were surprisingly soft in his fingers in order to keep his injured friend in place so that he could finish what he had started. He cursed internally though, the moment that he could feel Tobirama racing towards their location from somewhere off in the distance, their moment of peace together was almost at an end.

With quick and precise movements he jumped to the nearest undamaged rock and laid his paralyzed friend on the ground. Sinking to the ground himself as his exhaustion finally overtook him completely. Wilfully resting his ear against a steadily beating heart, just to make sure that Madara would not succumbing to his injury, Hashirama took several breaths to calm his own frantically beating heart and rising concern.

'W-why are you—.' Madara's deep voice rumbled against his ear and Hashirama frowned at the question. Why wouldn't he? Madara meant more to him than he liked to admit and he was sure that somewhere he still meant something to this stoic man suffering in front of his very eyes. Straightening up, he brought down both his hands towards the bleeding wound and increased the healing process by as much as he dared.

'Because I can still remember that child that had once been my best friend, who shared all of my silly little dreams.' Warm, green chakra flowed from trembling fingertips, never stilling as Hashirama soothed away both the pain and closed his enemy's wound as if it was nothing to him despite his own injuries bothering him more than Madara's. He simply did not care that he was betraying his clan by healing the one man that would probably destroy them all should he no longer be alive. Dark, unreadable, eyes gazed yearningly up at the sky prompting Hashirama to follow his friend's gaze as he too stared at the clouds rolling in from the south. A storm was coming but neither said anything.

With a small noise of triumph drifting past his lips, Hashirama smiled at his friend sadly but sincerely. Gentle fingers tracing the now closed wound as he drew back, not wanting to give away his trespass to Tobirama, who flickered into existence right next to him a few seconds later. He could feel his little brother tense next to him instantly as dark maroon eyes took in the situation before him. His katana already raised in front him as a killing intent, harsher than any Hashirama had felt in a long while, crawled dangerously across tanned skin.

'Madara! This is your end!' Hashirama shuddered at the coldness colouring his brother's words. The realization of what Tobirama's anger was causing within him brought forth something dangerous inside the older of the two brothers. Protectiveness he had not felt for anyone but his family in a long. Deadly but calm anger flashed in unreadable brown eyes as Hashirama watched his brother level his sword at the now helpless enemy.

He held out his hand suddenly, signalling his brother to stand down. Even if he was panting for breath and darkness was swirling dangerously black before his vision, he wouldn't stand for this senseless killing anymore. He was too tired, too emotionally drained to deal with his internal pain at having to give up his friend to his brother's sword or to anyone else's for that matter.

He would end this, today. Even at the cost of his own life.

'Wait Tobirama.' He said suddenly. His voice ringing out deadly calm throughout the valley, inducing not only a shudder in his clansmen but causing a flash of lighting to streak through the sky as well.

'But why, Nii-sama? This is our chance isn't it?' His brother's bold words of protest against him, it seemed that Tobirama still had a lot to learn when dealing with Hashirama's anger.

'I won't let you lay a hand on him.' His whispered suddenly, his words resounding through the entire valley like rumbling thunder. Hashirama's tone was deathly quiet and charged with so much chakra that it all but lost its gentle sincerity and eternal kindness. Dark eyes glared deeply into his brother's startled eyes, daring him to disobey. His chakra rising in response to smother everyone else's in the valley so that not a single person would have the chance to challenge his words.

The moment was over as quickly as it had come though as Hashirama forced himself to breathe deeply to steady himself. In an attempt to build up his chakra so that he could ease the throbbing wound in his back before it too could render him paralyzed, caused him to steady his movements and words. Where in return, if he had been paying closer attention to Madara, he would have seen turmoiled charcoal eyes widening in surprise at his words before they turned back to their cold disposition. A smirk tugging at his friend's pale lips that no one could see, a bitter chuckle soon following afterwards to drift awkwardly into the air.

'Heh...you might as well make it quick, Hashirama. If you do it, I'll be satisfied.' The leader of the Senju Clan halted at the nonchalant statement. His heart lodging itself painfully in his throat as sorrow suddenly glazed intelligent dark eyes. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth in internal distress, worrying the flesh between his teeth in contemplation. No, he didn't want to that. He would not do it either, no matter how his friend would have begged for it. He just couldn't...

'It's no use acting tough, Madara.' Hashirama said suddenly, drawing on a plan forming inside his head. His chocolate brown eyes glaring willing down at Madara as if scolding a wayward child. 'If we kill you, the Head of the Clan, the young Uchiha that hold you dear will go on a rampage.' The other man, intently listening to him for the first time in many years and because he had little other choice, merely snorted and laughed mockingly at his long time friend's words. Those charcoal eyes were now clouded with a pain much deeper than anything physical the Senju leader could heal and it irked him that he couldn't help Madara.

'There are no one in the Uchiha who feel that way anymore.' Madara eventually spat bitterly, leaving Hashirama to fight off another breath of pain hitching in his chest.

'No, I'm sure there are.' Hashirama countered sincerely, knowing he had to repair some of the emotional damage before it became too much. For surely what Madara was saying was nothing but a lie; the Uchiha Clan all still respected and loved Madara just as much as he did.

'Can't we settle this like we used to? Just the two of us?' He asked hopefully in return. If it was possible to convince Madara with his mere words, now would be the time to attempt it.

'You know we can't.' Madara returned brokenly, though. 'I'm not the same as you anymore. I don't have any siblings left and I can't trust you.'

'Then how can we make you trust us?" Hashirama shook his head at Tobirama's warning. The hand resting on his shoulder was there to protect but also to remind of his obligation to the Senju but something, something deep inside was making him disobey all those instincts.

'If you want to straighten things out...' Madara said with a smirk, now. Those dead charcoal eyes focusing solely on Hashirama's dark orbs as if searching for a truth that only he could understand in their depths. 'Then either kill yourself or kill your brother. Then we'll be even...then I will trust your clan.' Hashirama sucked in a sharp breath, it wasn't the request that startled him so much as it was the sadness for his friend that crept upon his brow. For the first time that day, he allowed sorrow to stain his chocolate brown eyes and break through his mask of serenity. Just how deep was the pain Madara suffered? How could he free him from it? It was so pitiful, Hashirama thought.

If he had been given only those two options, then it would be very easy to decide and carry through with it.

'To kill your brother or commit suicide?! What the hell are you saying?!' The sudden enraged call of one of his cousins had Hashirama sitting up a bit straighter in defensiveness. Holding up his hand for silence as he prepared to stand, only his brother's grip on his shoulder kept him firmly in place, forcing him to stay where he was. Hashirama glared over his shoulder but gave his brother one last chance to voice his opinion.

'That man's crazy, Nii-sama. What do you plan to do...are you going to kill me or do want to follow this man's nonsense? How foolish! Don't listen to him brother.' The elder of the two sighed softly and shook his head sadly. Pushing his brother's clenching hand from his shoulder with a gentle, reassuring touch and a warm smile. Their fingers briefly touched in affection for one last time as Hashirama affectively calmed the both of them with just a simple gesture. He was glad that he got to see his dear brother's over protectiveness one last time.

It had always warmed his heart and set his resolve even further. After all, he had been given his choice, weighed his options and knew that his choice would be enough to keep himself happy in the afterlife. If the two clans could prosper side by side from now on, it would mean the world to him.

'Thank you, Madara.' Hashirama said softly. 'You truly are a sympathetic person...' His words were quiet, only meant to be heard by his friend as he boldly stripped himself of his armour and turned his back on his enemy to look towards his brother and his clan one last time. Madara truly knew what it meant to have a brother and what Hashirama's sole remaining brother meant to him. There was nothing more than gentle kindness in that simple choice...

He stepped forward, out of his brother's reaching fingers with a decisive smile and one last nod. Cringing internally for the sudden pain he saw flashing in Tobirama's sorrow darkened eyes.

'Tobirama!' He called. 'Listen to me, for these will be my last words.' He pulled a kunai out of his pouch and held it in front of him. Mentally and physically preparing himself for the pain that would soon follow. 'I'll give you these words in place of my life, everyone in the clan should do the same.' He could see Tobirama shifting his form, ready to rush to his side to take him away, but it was Hashirama's glaring eyes that stopped him instantly. He never was able to disobey when his Nii-sama became like this, showed the true traits of something more than just a powerful leader.

'After my death, do not kill Madara. The Uchiha and Senju must never fight each other again. Vow on your fathers and grandchildren that are not born yet. I implore you, my most beloved Otouto. Farewell. Now, please turn away, this shame is not something you should ever have to witness.' And with that, despite his brother's angered shouts and sorrowful cries, Hashirama could do nothing but desperately try to ignore those sad calls chasing pain through his veins. Those cries that scorched his eyes with sorrow, eventually leaving him grateful when his clansmen knew his resolve would not be broken and forcibly took Tobirama in their arms and turned him around so that he could not see.

He could feel his own uneasiness spiking through his veins at he was going to do, but one last glance at Madara's stoic features told him all he needed to know.

'Ne, Madara. Thank you.' He said again, eyes closing in a serene smile as a tear of regret finally traced a painful path down his cheek. 'I know you don't like Tobirama much, but he's a good kid. Please look after him, perhaps one day he too can become a dear brother to you too.' And with his final request spoken, assured hands plunged the deadly kunai forward. Bracing himself for the inevitable pain and anguish but it never came. Gloved hands, not his own, were clamped harshly over his own clutching the kunai. Madara was leaning forward now, so that he could still the kunai's deadly path and halt the process of his death.

A new spark of life shimmering within those charcoal eyes as the two friends looked at each other in much the same way as they did as children once.

'That's enough, Hashirama. I've seen your guts. There's no need for this pain anymore.'

His hand, it had been surprisingly firm but gentle. Hashirama thought to himself absentmindedly, gazing at his bare hand that now rested, all alone again, against the pleated fabric of his white hakama clothed thigh. Some time earlier that day, when the sun had nearly reached its midday peak and the birds had sung happily within the sunshine, the storm of last week seemed now long forgotten in light of something new. Hashirama had finally shook hands with one of his fiercest enemies, now one of his most respected allies and hopefully, somewhere along the line, the glowing embers of their friendship could be rekindled into the blazing fire it used to be.

Where in that moment of utter peace and tranquillity when Madara's hand had grasped his hand firmly in promise, it was like a dream had opened up before him. And Hashirama couldn't help but smile to himself. It was a dream that he never thought he would ever see the chance of coming true. And yet, it had and he couldn't have been any happier than when he was right now.

Dark brown eyes gazed absently up at the early evening stars bursting across the night's darkened sky. Just like a beautiful, perfect dream where the opened shoji doors allowed for the night's cool breeze to drift around his form and tug playfully at his long, unbound hair. A cup of sake, probably the ninth of that day, balanced expertly in his right hand as he rested his arm across his pulled up knee nonchalantly.

His formal black haori was discarded somewhere across the floor of the tea room, his tanned cheeks darkened red with the rush of alcohol in his blood and somewhere, within his blurring field of vision, he could feel the heavy weight of his newly acquired ally's scowling eyes. It was probably annoyance at his behaviour that coloured the atmosphere with a subtle but not uncomfortable tension and caused Hashirama to shift his gaze towards the dark blur sitting a few feet away from him.

From behind his dark lashes, he could make out those haunting features that he had come to know so well over the years.

'Oi! Wipe that idiotic grin off your face, Senju! It's unbecoming!' Hashirama was closed off to the world around him, he heard nothing, saw nothing and all that really mattered was the figure illuminated within the light of several newly lit candles before him. He could only stare openly at those full lips that were pulled into an aggravated scowl, shifting restlessly where he sat to observe red Sharingan eyes (still activated in his presence) narrowing against his dark, searching, gaze as if daring him to trespass the silence.

And those incredibly long locks of midnight black, glinting so alluringly soft in the light of the moon's haunting rays and the candles dancing flames... He felt something dangerously yearning stirring itself in the pit of his stomach. Somehow making him want to throw away all of his dignity and run his fingers through the soft strands to—.

'Are you even listening to me, Hashirama?! Have you perhaps wondered into dreamland again?' Madara's scathing comment rang mockingly throughout the room, the tone of his voice startling the younger of the two out of his racing thoughts and scarring the comfortable silence that had cocooned them for several minutes in uncertainty. Hashirama shuddered suddenly, feeling as if ice water had been doused across his body and froze his mind. It was only reluctantly that he pulled his gaze away from the way those lips moved (just in case the heated sensation building through his veins got any worse).

Yet, as Hashirama stared instead into now darkening red orbs, he made an even bigger mistake. They were flashing darker and darker, colouring to the same dark shade of flowing blood and shimmering subtly with something Hashirama had not seen directed towards himself in a long time. Especially not from a man of Madara's standing and dignity.

'M-M-Madara? W-what are you—.' The bewildered Senju stuttered out uncertainly before trailing off again with silent trepidation as the Uchiha stood from his cross-legged position. The way he moved...he walked...Hashirama cursed the swirl of too much alcohol racing through his blood. It was driving him insane the moment that elated feeling came crawling back to him.

The world was shifting into a senseless blur of swirling colours and sounds again and only the two of them were left to exist in its contrasting centre. He turned away quickly though. A flush of darkening colour blossoming across his nose as Madara moved ever closer to his seated form. He could even feel those haunting eyes gazing at his body longingly, causing him to quiver under the gaze and swallow thickly around the sudden lump forming in his throat.

This wasn't normal, this shouldn't be accepted and yet...

Sharingan eyes were watching him intently now, as if Madara had just discovered some sort of big secret that only he knew and could exploit. In order to distract himself from the sudden heated shivers chasing up his spine, Hashirama pulled his sake cup to his lips and drained it of all alcohol in a single gulp. His thoughts carrying himself far away from reality where he was, in hopes of escaping the sudden unbearable heat that was brewing incessantly within his abdomen.

A shuddering breath suddenly whistled past Hashirama's lips when he recalled seeing that same darkening look across his friend's eyes a few times on the battlefield. Even though it was only in brief flickers and when it was just the two of them fighting, it was not a gaze he would soon forget. A gaze that robbed him of all inhibitions and linear thought.

He scowled in return, the burning in his gut was only getting worse and worse and despite being harshly brought back to reality when Madara's overwhelming presence suddenly loomed over him, his breath hitched painfully in his chest when warm fingers brushed up against his own as his empty sake cup was stolen from his fingers. Hashirama wanted desperately to protest, to demand compensation for his stolen treat but his heart was racing too hastily against his chest, chasing blood through his ears so that he could barely even comprehend what was happening around him. One look from those red eyes lodged all his words and curses of protest in his throat, though.

His entire hand was aching warmly at the soft touch, the stroke of flesh finally registering in his mind as something more than just an accident. But just where were these new sensation coming from? He couldn't understand anymore, his mind was too hazed, his heart in too much pain and—.

'I think you've had quite enough, Hashirama.' Madara huffed irritably and Hashirama, so surprised by his friend's sudden looming appearance over him, forced himself to lean backwards to escape the crowded sensation. Only, he was more drunk than he thought, for he overestimated his lean and tumbled backwards onto the tatami mats. A look of surprise drifting across his features as he hit his head quite harshly against the floor.

He really hadn't been expecting that.

The sudden and unexpected movement caused Hashirama's sky and ground to shift around, though, spinning in a violent circle above his head as Madara, now leaning over his form with some irritation colouring pale features, had somehow managed to work himself between the Senju's parted legs by accident. The Uchiha was gazing down at the clumsy shinobi with a perpetual frown crinkling his brow and a simple eyebrow raised in question to his idiocy and stumbling coordination. This Senju was definitely not the shinobi he had fought over and over again with such haunting precision and perfectly executed moves, no, but it seemed that alcohol could do quite a number on him.

'You see? More than enough. Who would have thought that the Leader of the Senju couldn't hold his alcohol.' Madara chuckled maliciously, ready to pull back from the awkward sprawl of limbs when clumsy fingers curled in the fabric of his yukata and pulled. A sharp tug of a breath resounded through the air as Hashirama brought them close enough together so that their noses were nearly brushing together intimately.

Hashirama's scowling features now displayed his own frustration to the older shinobi and his careless actions. He was confused, irritated and angry that his sake had been taken away from him and the throbbing ache at the back of his head was going to drive him over the edge of sanity, if it had not already. Because just as he was about to shout, his dark eyes widened and he turned his head to the side in embarrassment - long having forgotten what he had wanted to say now that Madara was in such close in proximity . That heated sensation in the pit of his stomach was making itself known again and it wasn't the sake this time.

He shivered when Madara let out a resigned sigh above him that tickled his lips before those familiar calloused hands rested on either side of his head to keep the Sharingan user's balance over his enemy. Fingertips curling through Hashirama's locks almost gently, like a lover's touch, instead of the usual violent manner in which they touched, was a new experience for the younger Senju. The action not only serving as a buffer against movement but kept the both of them grounded and aware of their surroundings.

But Hashirama had had enough. Without even thinking of what he was doing, his lips parted and a small noise of frustration drifted past his lips. His heart was positively yearning now, a yearning so deep and heart wrenching that could only be satisfied when he tilted his head upwards, nose brushing against nose, eyes locked desperately together in a silent battle of the wills when understanding finally dawned upon not one but the both of them. Hashirama wanted this man. Not in the way he had always thought of, but differently.

He wanted him desperately and he wanted him now.

And he boldly took his chance, knowing that perhaps he was walking to his own death by waking a sleeping dragon but when he moved his head upwards just a little bit more, there was an explosion of colour erupting in front of his glazed eyes. The first touch of lips against lips was like an explosion of sensations racing through Hashirama's entire being. His heart was racing madly against his chest, his lips parted of their own accord and when lips slid sensually against Madara's, a moan of lust drifted in the air around them.

His friend's resounding growl of warning was muffled through the kiss, causing Hashirama to wince softly when those fingers clenched in his hair, pulled.

His mind was a haze with wave after wave of lust, he didn't know how to deal with this.

Hashirama was literally burning up from the inside out, his heart imploding in on itself as his bare toes curled in utter bliss when a tongue was thrust into his mouth without warning. There was nothing in his life that had made him feel more alive than he did now, not even the countless fights they had shared and the scrapes with death they had both endured. Now, this was utterly sinful and he didn't want it to end.

Hashirama's fingers clenched harder in Madara's soft yukata, only untangling moments later to move up and twine through long black locks. He was forced to swallow back his moan when those long locks fell over the older shinobi's shoulders and surrounded them in a sea of black silk. Strands of soft but coarse hair brushing against his cheeks and neck when Madara leaned their bodies together in a more intimate position. Hashirama was in heaven, his breath harshly coming through his nose before a whine of disappointment left his lips. Madara's fingers were pulling his hands from out those soft locks before locking them together above his head with Madara's larger hand encircling Hashirama's wrists to still his movements.

'N-no!' Hashirama whined when their kiss was broken. 'P-please d-don't stop.' He gasped and pleaded, his chocolate brown eyes darkened to black in unwavering lust towards his once enemy. He could only helplessly, pleadingly stare up at those seemingly stoic features through a haze of lust, until a wicked smirk danced across pale, full, lips.

They were both panting for breath, both tasting of too much sake but neither seemed to care.

Hashirama watched through his haze of his frustrated tears, just about to beg some more for Madara to continue, when that smirk turned to a deadly seductive smile that danced across frowning features.

'Oh my, now this is just precious, Hashirama.' Madara leaned down to purr right beside the Senju's ear, teeth tugging at the shell of his ear as if wanting to make a point only Hashirama could understand and obey. 'You started this, my dear Senju. I will finish it, and despite my better judgement in knowing we're probably both too drunk to think properly right now, perhaps we can forge another bond here.'

'M-Madara...' Hashirama breathed in warning, arching up suddenly when teeth dug mercilessly into his neck.

'No protesting, you asked for this and I will give it. Now be a good Senju and do exactly as I tell you.' The slightly younger Senju could only nod dumbly, hissing when a tongue and warm, moist lips soothed the pain of the bite away from his neck soon after. He wanted nothing more than to keep experiencing the heated sensations chasing up his spine, lose himself in Madara's harsh but still tender ministration that the thought of disobeying never crossed his mind.

Perhaps he was way more drunk than he thought...

~~~~

'Kuso...M-Madara...p-please...!' Hashirama was seriously losing his head, with the cool night air brushing teasingly up against his perspiring skin and trembling limbs, it caused a different and welcome contrast to Madara's almost painfully pleasured scratches, bites and scalding tongue exploring the flesh of his stomach, sensitized nipples and swollen lips. This was an entirely new situation for the Senju, one he had not yet had the pleasure to indulge in with another man but now, he did not want it to end or for Madara to stop driving him insane with heated sensations.

His thighs were quivering with the raging excitement and strain of his arousal, his clothes lost within minutes of Madara's haunting words of 'Now be a good Senju and do exactly as I tell you', thrown somewhere haphazardly over his shoulder left Hashirama somewhat flushed and embarrassed at the new vulnerability that he felt creeping across his sensitive skin. It wasn't fair, his muddled mind supplied, and here he was, literally drowning in naked pleasure and Madara had yet to shed a single piece of his clothing.

Finding a resolve to resist for only a few seconds, if only a little against those lips attached to his neck, he brought his hands forward to push the slightly older shinobi away from him. Flinching openly at the angered glare reflected in daring Sharingan red eyes, Hashirama chose instead to ignore it as he brought his hands around Madara's waist to search for that irritating knot in his white obi. Biting his lip in concentration and fighting against his alcohol clumsy fingers and pleasure hazed mind, he was relieved and a little confused when Madara chuckled next to his ear in sheer amusement.

Warm fingers, not his own, winding around his fumbling hands to help him in his quest to loosen the elusive obi.

'I never would have thought I'd see the day where you would look at me so desperately and placidly, its much better than your usual defiance. Especially when you lose your patience.' Hashirama gasped suddenly, his protest at those words completely forgotten when his head was thrown back against the tatami mat of its own aching accord. Calloused fingers had finally, finally, circled his aching arousal and traced the sensitive flesh from base to tip. Teasing it into full blown, aching arousal where a sly thumbnail smeared the dribbling pearls of Hashirama's unmistakeable need across the mushroomed head with expert precision. Leaving the Senju with no more will to protest and moaning instead, writhing his need for a firmer and rougher touch at his enemy's hand and careful control.

'So sensitive, Hashirama.' Madara purred delightedly, leaning back and letting go of his newly found prize only momentarily to drop his yukata from his shoulders and undress himself. All the while, his eyes never once strayed far from Hashirama's panting from spread so delectably beneath him. Just who would have thought that such a strong shinobi, even stronger than him, could have such allure when he had too much to drink and endless reams of unresolved sexual frustration? But Madara guessed that was just how it was with Hashirama, he never did anything in halves and being quite the surprising submissive beneath him, it was no surprise that the Uchiha could wring countless sensations of pleasure through the both of them.

Hashirama was moaning again, desperately whimpering, arching up against Madara's bare torso as he pressed against him now completely naked. Spreading Hashirama's legs further apart so that he could settle their aching arousal's closer together with a sensual slide. The leader of the Senju clan whined abruptly at the scorching heat spreading through his pelvis and racing up his body to settled within that heated coil in his stomach. With Madara's own hardened arousal pressing against his, now rocking his hips ever so subtly backwards and forwards, Madara managed to pull increasingly louder and louder sounds from Hashirama's parted lips.

'Shizukesa(1*), Hashirama.' Madara warned against his lips almost urgently, teeth clamping down on Hashirama's bottom lip to bring him back to himself and jolt him awake from his pleasure induced haze. 'Really now,' He whispered with exasperation as his action only caused Hashirama to moan louder and more intensely than before. His panting and hissing breaths were warm and plaint against Madara's lips as he leaned closer so that his Sharingan eyes and slowly spinning tamoes, could record and file away every single detail of Hashirama's actions and reactions to his body.

Those infinitely kind, dark, eyes were begging him for something more substantial and intense. Who was he to deny Hashirama his pleasure when the both of them were at the end of their rope?

'If you don't hush your moans and cries, Senju, your brother will paying us a visit soon.' Madara cautioned, already filled with trepidation that he could feel the younger Senju's waking chakra stirring deeper in clan's large estate in response to the rising level of noise. His words, somehow having gotten through to Hashirama, stilled the Mokuton user's loud whines and cries for more almost instantly. Despite Madara's disappointment in having to hush his lover's pleasure, he in return was willing to offer more pleasure to Hashirama than he had ever experienced.

'B-but...I-I...can't seem to control...Nnngh...please M-Madara...' Hashirama begged suddenly, arching up against the Uchiha in hopes of finding some delicious friction in sliding their erections together, pleading for something that his words could not seem to describe. His actions unexpectedly caused a hiss of pleasure to pass Madara's lips as he bent down to swallow the blatant groan he saw building in Hashirama. The Sharingan Master sighed internally, he should have known that it would be impossible to ask for a little quieter enjoyment of their coupling. But Hashirama never did anything in halves...as he had noted more than once before.

'I understand.' He eventually whispered, a flicker of understanding and sympathy at his lover's plight flashing in his red eyes as he separating their pelvis' and shifting to his knees between Hashirama's spread thighs. He wanted to stall the aching, slow spread of pleasure so that he could catch his breath and offer the Senju some time to compose himself as he trailed his calloused fingers up a quivering stomach. Fingernails tracing hardened nipples and scratching possessively against a red marked neck that solely belonged to him for that night.

When he rested several fingers against Hashirama's panting lips, he chuckled softly at the blank, inquisitive stare that he received in return to his action.

'Suck them, Senju, it's not that hard. Besides, you'll thank me for it later.' Hashirama, too dazed to try and understand the reasoning behind the request, did as he was told. Giving away his inexperience not only to Madara but himself when he nibbled on fingertips and traced his saliva slickened tongue across the proffered appendages. 'Make them wet, Hashirama. Don't play with them.' He flushed deep red at the nonchalant statement, already losing his mind again when a suckling mouth attached itself to his chest and subtly made its way downwards.

Madara's fingers were quickly retracted when a tongue dipped experimentally into his naval, knowing that he had barely missed those clamping teeth. He shuddered at the sensations that Hashirama's seemingly innocent actions could cause within him. He was going to have to do something about those moans and lingering sounds of pleasure but he could barely think straight with his own arousal begging for attention. He needed to be buried within Hashirama, and without thinking of warning the inexperienced shinobi of what he was about to do, he penetrated Hashirama with two saliva slicked fingers.

'Nnngh! Ow!' Hashirama moaned softly, managing somehow to stifle his pained yelp against Madara's shoulder by biting into flesh. He felt Madara stiffen on top of him, but did not stop in his task of stretching his entrance for something bigger. Confused as he was, drifting out of his drunken haze too much to question the pain, Hashirama was soon thrust back into his pleasured state when sly fingernails scraped against something inside of him that set his blood alight with desperate need. His yelp smothered by Madara's mouth and tongue where he was forcefully kissed allowed for Hashirama to begin to enjoy the strange sensations.

He relaxed back against the tatami mat slightly, pulling Madara closer to him as he clung to the Uchiha's shoulders for dear life. It was incredible, his mind supplied. The alcohol had soothed away his pain so quickly and with Madara teasing his tongue into a playful, erotic duel, he barely even noticed when a third finger was pushed inside of him and stretched him further. He hummed appreciatively when teeth tugged at his neck again, sure to leave quite the large mark, but Hashirama was not bothered. It was so intense, every emotion that Madara was chasing through his veins and crippling his body with was so deeply intense that he did not want it to stop, even if he had to bite his lip until it bled to keep from crying out his increasing rapture.

'P-please! M-more!' That was all it seemed he needed to ask. Because before he could take another breath something much larger and harder was abruptly buried fully within him. The sudden thrust and breach of his entrance had lust darkened eyes widening in surprise and excruciating pain, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs in a whoosh of desperately escaping air. He tasted blood on his tongue, his fingers were tugging at long, black hair falling around him like a curtain to try and find something, anything to ground him from the sudden racing hurt.

'T-that really hurt, y-you bastard!' He swore, finding it difficult to breathe around the intrusion. He felt Madara's body tense against his own, though. Sharingan red eyes spinning faster and faster as he looked up, surprised by the sheer look of bliss that crept across his enemy's features. The Sharingan Master's fingers were digging harshly into his hip, seeking to control the both of them through his sense of duty. He leant down then, shifting his hips a little so that the head of arousal brushed something deep inside of Hashirama that made him stutter his next, long forgotten words of reprimand.

'Please...bear with me for a while...' Hips shifted again, rocking back a bit before pushing forward and Hashirama slammed his head against the tatami mats in pure unadulterated pleasure. 'It'll feel better soon.' After repeating the same action several times, the Senju finally began to relax into the embrace, boldly seeking out warm, moist lips to cover with his own as he shifted his own hips and pleaded for more. It seemed that was all that was needed between them as Madara's steady rhythm and controlled pace began to change, becoming deeper, more controlling and much more pleasurable.

'S-so good!' Hashirama moaned loudly, his lips almost permanently sealed by Madara's to keep his cries at bay. Madara tasted strongly of alcohol, blood and something bittersweet that could only belong to the man himself. His hissing, panting breaths increased. Hashirama's body tensed as he was drowned in a river of pleasure, Uchiha Madara being the one who was willingly and skilfully keeping him submerged under that water, refusing to let him up until he would yield and beg completely.

It didn't take much after that for Hashirama to build up to his imminent release, his soft pleading calls and desperate sounds seeming to spur Madara on. And legendary Sharingan Master seemed to have lost some of his immense control through the sensations and consumption of sake. He was grunting now, whispering words in Hashirama's ear that made him flush and tighten his grip in raven black hair as he clung on for dear life. His thighs were automatically tightening around the Uchiha's waist. How they had gotten there he could not remember, but it grounded him all the same.

'Just a little more, Hashirama.' Madara grunted and Hashirama whined, that blinding warmth was chasing through his veins now in a rush of hazy rapture. His world took a sudden and unexpected tilt as everything exploded and shattered around him at the same time. He could not hold back anymore. His climax was upon him so fast Hashirama barely had time to breathe before his back was arching gracefully into the body above him, his fingernails digging harshly into Madara's skin. His lover's name spilling from his lips in a cry of utter sensuous pleasure that shook both of them to the core.

Several, harsh thrusts that rattled his body later and a warm wetness he had never felt before spilled, sticky inside of him. He shuddered at the strange feeling, stars still dancing dizzyingly across his vision as his breath rasped in his lungs. In a moment of sheer panic, when he felt the man that had just gifted him with this pleasure pull away from him, he wound his arms around his friend's shoulders and pulled him closer to his body. Desperately in search of the heat that was rapidly fading from his skin and leaving him dizzy with a different kind of yearning.

'Please don't leave, yet.' He pleaded softly. 'Just for a little while.' He promised. Not yet, not yet wanting to let go of the pleasure and pain he had just found. Madara, too tired to say anything, complied for now. Cradling a sweaty forehead against his shoulder to sooth away the intensity and pleasure from Hashirama's trembling form. The night's cool air a soft, whispering, reminder that their moment of mutual pleasure would be shared for an eternity.

Hashirama shifted restlessly beneath a warm cocoon of blankets, a burning ache building behind his eyes the further he ascended into consciousness and the roiling in his stomach making him nauseas and disorientated. There was a presence leaning over him, soft and warm, as the blinding rays of the sun pulled a frown across his lips. The bright light was searing his eyes even from behind closed eyelids, causing him to moan at the intense pain it caused. He groaned softly though, surprised when cool, soothing fingers rested against his forehead and traced his cheek, brushing away stray strands of brown hair that clung to his sweaty forehead and cheeks.

He moaned softly, tilting his head into the touch and warm chakra fingertips that raced against his forehead comfortingly. Healing and soothing away the burning ache from the night before's alcohol. His body was still ached for some reason though, one he struggled to recall through the haze laid over his mind.

'...wake up...please wake up...' A gentle voice called and Hashirama burrowed further into the covers in defiance. He was not quite ready to face reality yet. Not when his mind, dazed a confused, was rapidly catching up to reality as memories, unbidden and erotic, swirled in front of his closed eyelids with renewed vigour. A gasp of surprise reached past kiss swollen lips as he recalled the blurred details of what had happened. What he had allowed to happen...

And that desperate yearning that he had always felt clawing within his heart, when no one thought he could feel emotions like that, was somewhat sated and more calm that morning. He sighed softly when cool fingers brushed against his forehead again, like the flowing of a steady stream of water. He whined softly, tilting his head upwards to feel it again, smiling softly when the touch didn't retract.

'Wake up! Nii-sama!' Hashirama jerked abruptly, dark brown eyes shooting open against the harsh glare of the morning sun as a familiar figure dressed in dark blue, brilliant white hair and maroon eyes swam into hazy focus above him. There were several things that registered in his aching mind in that moment: one, he was dressed in his clothes again, two, there was no trace of Madara's presence and, three, he wasn't buried in a warm blanket as he had first through but in a haori, not his own, that was thrown across his from to keep away the night's chill.

The tea room was excessively bright within the morning light, the shoji door having stood open the entire night was now a curse to his aching head and shivering skin. And yet, his beloved otouto, looking quite concerned with a frown furrowing his brow, was leaning over him with a steady stream of healing chakra pushing away the pain in his body and mind.

He started when cool fingers traced down his cheek to rest against his neck, a no-nonsense frown dipping his brow as he covered the quite obvious mark that Madara had left behind. Erasing its existence within seconds before Hashirama could breathe a word of protest.

'You've been drinking quite a bit Nii-sama,' Tobirama said irritably, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back of his thighs for several minutes. Both brothers staring at each other, one in annoyed reprimand, the other in depressed acceptance. Both waiting for the other to break eye contact, but neither did until Tobirama decided to stand. Pulling himself to his feet and dusting off his knees. He eventually sighed in defeat and offered a forgiving smile to Hashirama before he held out his hand for his brother to grasp.

He helped Hashirama to his feet, balancing his older brother with a reassuring grasp to his shoulder as he waited for Hashirama to pull himself together again.

'You should be more careful, Nii-sama.' He said, turning his back to hide his expression and give his brother time to rekindle his lost dignity. He stalled his steps towards the doors though, leaning against the door frame for a few seconds. Gazing over his shoulder with a frown marring his face. He hadn't told his Nii-sama that he had not just healed his brother's obvious bruises but the slight fever from sleeping in the cold air that had clung to his skin as well. There were times where he just couldn't ignore his brother's neglectful nature and nonchalant response to situations like these.

'I hope you know what you are doing.' That was all he said as he slipped deeper into the house, a sense of dread flitting across his stomach that fuelled his internal anger. One day that dreaded man was going to be death of them, he just knew it. But out of courtesy for Hashirama did he keep his mouth shut against his brother's actions and inherent blindness.

Note:

1* - Shizukesa – Hush

Thanks so much for reading, I really appreciate it. If you have enjoyed this story then I would be honoured if you could drop me a review and a rating.
Thanks again, that would be much loved.
SSP
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