"Stay in the medical ward to watch over them tonight, I want a report on their progress in the morning." Pein finished his weary command, his voice and body both feeling heavy. Konan bowed before she took her leave, whisking away to the medical wing to observe her two charges who, although having suffered severe damage, were stable. She assured Pein neither Kisame nor Itachi would die from their wounds, and they should make a full recovery within a week and a half to two-week period. Neither man had awoken yet, and he wanted Konan to watch them overnight for when they did. That, and he didn't want her present when he left to report to Madara. Konan was the only other person, aside from Pein, aware of Madara's existence. But, she didn't know him the way Pein did—and he felt guilty that it relieved him so. Madara was brisk and Konan was professional whenever she reported to him. He never looked at her the way he looked at Pein, never aimed that calculative, appraising look at her. Pein tried to convince himself he felt that way because he wanted to keep Konan safe, but that wasn't the truth. Not all of it.

With a deep sigh that felt like it emptied Pein of everything inside, the young man straightened his back and squared his shoulders. He had to face Madara, and sooner would be better than later. Keeping the man waiting would only serve to test his temper, and Pein was certain he'd already stepped far out of bounds. It was his fault that Kisame and Itachi had suffered injury in battle and almost lost their lives. It was Pein's miscalculation, his desire to obtain the nine-tailed beast, and he had sent the team into a battle that they couldn't win. It was his own mistake that put two valuable members of his organization in jeopardy, and it was by the threads of sheer luck that they survived at all. Pein, while ridden with guilt and anger towards himself, couldn't begin to anticipate Madara's own rage. The man's warning rang in Pein's ears as he made his way towards the hidden room. Madara's private quarters were past Pein's office, secret and locked to all who wasn't Madara or Pein.

Pein had never tested Madara's ability to go through with a threat, but the curiosity was there. He often wondered what Madara meant, what he might be capable of. Pein had considered testing Madara before, but on a much lesser extent, never would he purposely fail. Now that he had no other choice, Pein found his curiosity had waned.

Mostly.

When he reached the door to Madara's room, having resealed the one to his office, Pein's hands were clammy as he performed the seal to open this one. He didn't dare look up until he'd entered and the door had shut behind him, closing him into his fate. Cautiously raising his head, Pein could see Madara sitting at his desk, the lit fireplace cast an eerie glow over him. He couldn't see the man's face yet, but the fire's soft glow illuminated much of his body. The sight alone sent a chill spiraling in Pein's gut, and a part of him wished he could slip away again, if Madara hadn't heard him—

"Come here, Pein."

Pein winced. The command was too calm, too quiet, masquerading as a benign order. With no other choice but to swallow his reluctance and walk forward, Pein did so, until he stopped short of the chair Madara sat in. The silence wore on for several seconds, the only noise was the quiet scribbling of Madara's pen on parchment, and even that sounded muffled, to Pein. Finally, right when Pein thought he may go crazy if Madara didn't say (or do) something, Madara set his pen down. "Pein," Madara began, and Pein stiffened upon hearing his name leave those lips. "What went wrong, today?"

Pein's lips parted a sliver, but he realized he had no answer prepared. The answer was in what had happened. "I pushed for Kisame and Itachi to capture the nine-tails," Pein confessed, "we hadn't gathered enough information to understand Konoha's power, and they got attacked and hurt in the process. It was my fault, Madara-sama, I won't allow for another mistake like this." Not that the organization could handle another mistake like that, each member, while theoretically replaceable, was still of immense value to Madara. He chose them all based on their specific skill sets. One loss would be tragic, two would be devastating.

Madara hummed in understanding before he stood up and circled behind the chair. Pein didn't dare to raise his head and watch Madara, as much as he wanted to. The second Madara was out of his sight, Pein's heart started to beat faster. "What did I tell you earlier, Pein?" Madara asked, "when you expressed your desire to pursue the Kyuubi's Jinchūriki?"

Pein's throat was dry. Swallowing made it worse. Madara's voice, although still calm, had an edge that was sharpening into something deadly. "You said it would be better to wait and gather more intel, you thought it best to seek a better opening."

A hand rested on Pein's hip, then, making him start. Madara's grip was tight, but it wasn't as if Pein was under any impression he could escape, anyway. "But you did it anyway," Madara's voice was too close, "you did what you thought was best, without consulting me, without taking my words into consideration, and you disobeyed me."

Pein struggled with the urge to shiver, but in the end, his body won that one. He couldn't suppress the chill that raced down his back—a chill that melted into heat somewhere in his abdomen. "I didn't think that—"

The hold on Pein's hip strengthened, and he found himself shoved forward and over the desk before Madara's chair. The wooden edge cut into his skin where he pressed against it, but Pein bit his tongue and held onto that tiny distraction. Madara's hands were like steel wrapped around Pein's wrists, keeping his arms pinned behind his back; just as cold and twice as strong. Pein felt his heart in his throat. "I don't care what you thought, Pein," Madara's voice lowered into a hiss, "your thinking failed you, you disobeyed me." The raw taste of shame mixed with that of arousal, leaving a bitter coating on Pein's tongue. That should be the last thing on his mind, but he couldn't help the way his body reacted to Madara. It was like reflex, like something had trained Pein for it. Madara leaned closer to Pein's prone body, his chest hovering just short of the younger man's back. "Who is the true leader here, Pein? Who do you answer to?"

Pein's voice betrayed him when he tried to answer, leaving him silent for a moment before he could speak. "You are, Madara-sama," Pein grit out, struggling to pretend Madara's hips were not pressing into his own. "I'm sorry for my indiscretion," Pein said, even knowing that his apology was futile. Madara's breath was warm against Pein's ear when the older man chuckled.

"I believe I warned you about disobedience, Pein? I don't tolerate it from anything of mine," Madara's smirk carried through his voice, and any hope of leeway dropped like a rock in Pein's stomach. All the same, his skin prickled with goosebumps, lingering on the edge of anticipation for what Madara meant. What more could the man want, aside from diffidence, respect, or utter control? Didn't he have the latter in full? Pein had given Madara almost everything, as it was!

"You need to learn your place, Pein. All pets do."

Pein's eyes widened at hearing such a term, and he tried to straighten, mostly out of shock, but he didn't have any freedom to do so. Madara's hands tightened on his arms, only for a coarse rope to replace the feeling of smooth palms. Madara's fingers were deft and practiced as he tied Pein's hands with the chakra-rope, certain to consume all of Pein's means of fighting. The oncoming promise of vulnerability quickened Pein's breathing, but that was nothing compared to when Madara reached a hand around Pein's throat. "I like a struggle, Pein, so by all means, entertain me." Pein flinched when sharp teeth nipped at his ear, and he opened his mouth; to question, to demand? He didn't know, nor would he ever find out.

Pein was out, with the faint sound of a laugh following him into unconsciousness.

It wasn't for a few hours until Pein awoke, with the room dim and mind still sluggishly trying to pull together. He pried his eyes open with a soft groan, his body wanted to protest even that simple movement. As soon as he made the noise, Pein heard someone laugh, and it sent every alarm in his body blaring. He hadn't realized anyone else was in the room—nor did he recognize the room at all, now that he was alert enough to look around him. It was a plain room, barren, aside from the distant fireplace and bed that Pein was lying on. The sheets rustled beneath his back when he struggled to sit up, but he could only get so far before the rope around his wrists tightened and pulled him back. The rope, now tied to the wooden poles at the headboard of the bed, had started to leave rope burn on Pein's pale wrists. He stared up at where his arms were tied above him for several seconds, grappling with the realization that he was completely at someone else's mercy. Someone else who Pein didn't know to be too merciful.

"Don't struggle too much, you'll only tire yourself." Pein started at the lulling voice that dripped out of the darkness. He collapsed back onto the bed and looked forward, towards the edge of the bed. His eyes had adjusted to the lack of light after a few minutes had passed, granting him the sight of his captor standing before the bed. Madara's eyes were at half-mast, as if he were bored, but the smirk on his lips told otherwise. His cloak hung off one shoulder, revealing he was bare beneath it. In the seconds between seeing and the realization sinking in, Pein's eyes widened at the sight. Madara had nothing on—

Pein yanked at his wrists again in another bid to break the rope. Unfortunately, that futile attempt only further amused Madara. Cerise flushed Pein's skin, growing hot under Madara's sharp eyes. "You act like such a blushing virgin," Madara mused, almost admonishing, but almost amused. Pein sunk his teeth into his tongue to withhold any retort to that, and he was lucky he did, because he thought he would've gasped when Madara climbed atop the bed. The mattress dipped between the man's weight as he prowled forward, caging Pein between his hands where they pressed into the pillow. Pein tried to sink back against said pillow, but it didn't do him any favors. Madara's gaze made him feel tiny and exposed. "I must say," Madara cocked a smirk, "I quite like that look for you."

He leaned down, his long, dark hair spilling over his shoulders and against Pein's chest. Pein couldn't help but to tilt his head when Madara's mouth pressed against his throat, inevitably feeling the way the Uchiha's lips curled into a pleased smile. Madara pressed a kiss against Pein's neck and lingered for a moment, just to feel the way the younger man's throat bobbed when he swallowed. "Do you not trust me, Pein?"

Pein could have snorted, had he felt brave enough, but it was difficult feeling brave. The words had only just touched his lips, should I? when he felt a cold, sharp edge against his abdomen. The suddenness had Pein flinching, but Madara didn't falter. His hand was steady as he skimmed the knife up Pein's torso and chest, shredding his shirt open and leaving a thin, crimson line to shed a few drops of blood. A throaty groan rose in Pein's throat, right at the time that Madara bit down over the spot where his pulse raced. The added flare of pain choked Pein's sound off into a cry, one that he'd try to pass off as one of shock, if Madara wouldn't know better. The pain was warm and stinging, something so small yet impossible for Pein to not focus on.

Madara parted from Pein's neck with one last nip and lowered, smoothing his palm down to Pein's hip and beneath the hem of his pants. Madara reached the shallow wound that ran up the length of Pein's torso, and traced his tongue along the fresh cut. Pein hissed and arched his back; he wished that it had hurt, but the tightening in his pants proved otherwise. It burned, but the heat sunk into Pein's nerves and made them thrum with excitement. Madara looked up, his tongue passing over his lips and smearing a flash of red across them. An anticipative shiver traveled through Pein's body, and Madara felt it. "Already so impatient? It's almost unbecoming, Pein," he murmured, the silky comment belying the hunger in his eyes.

"Madara-sama," Pein beseeched, frustrated with what the man could do with hardly more than a look and a few words. Madara tisked, the fingers he had hooked in the hem of Pein's pants starting to tug the article down. He admired the expanse of pale skin as the pants slid lower, exposing Pein's legs even as they pressed close together in a last attempt at modesty. Madara found it endearing, in a way only his pet could be. He allowed Pein any control he had, and when he wanted to, he could strip it all away and leave the younger man with nothing. Pein sucked in a breath and exhaled a distressed a noise.

"What's the matter, you don't like not having control?" Madara mocked, the question may have masked as sweet, but it held sarcastic undertones. His hand snaked between Pein's thighs despite the way the younger was trying to clamp them shut, and his fingers curled around Pein's cock. Madara wasn't surprised to find Pein was already starting to harden, but he cocked a brow all the same to watch Pein turn his head in embarrassment. It was too easy. Madara tightened his fingers around Pein's stiffening cock as he gave it a slow stroke, wrenching a reluctant moan past Pein's lips. He spread his thighs slightly, offering Madara more room to move, to which he took advantage of. He moved his fingers over the head of Pein's cock and smeared some of the pre-cum that had dripped from the tip. Pein clenched his hands after that, now that the friction had lessened into a smoother glide, he couldn't help getting fully hard in Madara's hand.

He squirmed beneath Madara's gaze, unable to escape neither that nor his hand. Madara was inexorable.

Pein's erection twitched in Madara's palm, prompting him to slow his pumping. That was about the worst thing for someone so close to coming; Pein thrust his hips up in hopes to convince Madara to continue, but instead of complying, Madara slid his hand to the base of Pein's cock and squeezed. At that, Pein whined in protest, unable to think clearly with his orgasm so close, only to get blocked off. Madara watched his toy squirm in discomfort until he felt satisfied enough to pull his hand away. "Rewards are earned, not freely given," Madara reminded, when a pair of glazed eyes looked to him. That did little to mollify Pein, whose chest was heaving with breath.

Madara straightened onto his knees and slipped the cloak off his body, revealing planes of muscle and pale skin that rose and darkened in places with scars. Some were old, from when Madara was a child of war; others newer, lighter. Pein's throat went dry as he drank in the sight like a parched man, and he allowed himself to get so lost he didn't pay attention to Madara moving until he realized Madara was at the head of the bed, his erection thick and heavy and only inches from Pein's face. Pein's lips parted almost immediately, before he'd even thought about it, but his body tried to lean away.

Such contradicting reactions, but he had no choice in the first place. Madara buried his hand in Pein's ruffled hair and tugged him forward, making the man wince. "You'll suck, unless you like a dry fuck," Madara coldly warned. Pein cringed at the thought and, with a final glance up at Madara, conceded. He had no doubts Madara would follow through, and even if there were any doubts, Pein wasn't going to test them. He was tentative in slipping his tongue out to taste the slick head of Madara's cock, and although the taste was bitter, it wasn't the worst. He took the tip into his mouth and hollowed his cheeks to suck at it. It felt clumsy, but Madara's fingers tightened in Pein's hair, so he supposed he wasn't failing at his task

His tongue pressed into the slit as he sucked, only toying with the head for a few moments before Madara's hand began to push Pein's head lower. Before having Madara choke him, Pein hurried to open his mouth wider and take in more of the older man's erection. It was hot and heavy on Pein's tongue when he moved it against the underside, struggling to make it work without his teeth (or a need for air) getting in the way. He cocked his head to glide his tongue across the side of Madara's cock, and that garnered a harsh moan from the man, so Pein altered between using his tongue and taking Madara into his mouth to suck. Had he a chance to get used to it, he might learn to like it, but Madara's patience was already thin. His hips rolled forward into Pein's mouth, pushing his cock in deep and gagging the younger man, who wasn't prepared to take the thick length into his throat.

Madara ignored the choked sound and held still for a moment, savoring the tightness of Pein's throat before he withdrew with a wet pop. Pein coughed and sucked in a greedy, frantic breath, aiming a glower up at Madara's smug expression. He'd been foolish to hope Madara might go easy. "Don't give me that look," Madara's voice was verging on a laugh, "you'll learn to get used to it."

Somehow, surprisingly, Pein found no solace in that. He found it briefly, when Madara moved away, but the earlier panic from before returned like a knife to the gut when the older man moved towards the edge of the bed. Pein's legs twitched with the desire to close, but Madara forced himself between Pein's thighs before he got that chance, keeping the man's legs spread wide. Pein's eyes flickered from Madara's waist up to his eyes, but he didn't find a trace of pity. Not that Pein expected so much. Madara's fingertips were cold against Pein's thigh as he gripped it, his other hand reaching down to stroke his slick cock a few times. "You act like you've never done this before, Pein." Madara was mocking him, because he doubted that was true, but Pein's eyes narrowed at the accusation.

"Never like this," Pein said, and his admission made Madara's lips curve into a vicious smirk. Well, that was a surprising plus.

With a satisfied hum, Madara pressed the head of his cock against Pein's entrance, where he nudged against the tight ring. Pein's jaw clenched—whether out of anticipation or preparation to block a scream, he wasn't sure. "It's better if you relax," Madara suggested, but that was all the advice he offered before he started pushing forward. Pein's teeth grit tighter together as the pressure against his unrelaxed muscles increased until, finally, something had to give, and it had to be him. The head of Madara's cock popped inside and Pein couldn't help clamping down on it. The slowness that Madara had started off with vanished, and he shoved his hips forward in a harsh thrust that buried his cock inside of Pein's sweltering heat. Pain burst from the action, so sharp and sudden that a yelp shot from the younger man's mouth and moisture brimmed in his eyes, unbidden. His thighs trembled against Madara's waist, where the man was at least staying still.

Pein kept his eyes shut tight, refusing to let neither himself nor Madara acknowledge the tears that almost came to be. The pain traveled up Pein's back and branched through his nerves, like lightning striking a tree; Pein was willing to bet it felt the exact same. Madara was so big, almost too big—after taking the man in his mouth, Pein thought he knew what to expect. He couldn't get himself to relax much, if any, and he somehow doubted Madara cared. The tight muscles clamped down around his cock were only succeeding in pleasuring the sadistic man further. "You feel perfect," Madara purred, chasing a shiver down Pein's tense back. He moaned into the older man's mouth when Madara leaned down and covered Pein's lips with own, capturing him in a kiss. Madara started to move his hips then, and the kiss muffled Pein's cry, but it did little to distract against the discomfort as Madara forced him to take his length.

Madara kept his hands locked on Pein's hips to hold him still, refusing to allow Pein room to squirm away, but the younger man's trembling didn't cease. It was hard to move too fast with how tight Pein kept clenching, but Madara's pace was steady and unrelenting as he stretched Pein open around his cock. Pein's teeth scraped against Madara's lower lip, rousing a quiet groan from the Uchiha, his hips making a lewd sound as they slapped against Pein's with each deep thrust. While Madara liked the pitiful sounds Pein was struggling to hide, he thought something might sound nicer, perhaps a scream. Reaching between their bodies, Madara's fingers found Pein's erection, where it had only flagged slightly after the initial pain.

The suddenness made Pein flinch away from Madara's hand when he began to stroke the younger man's cock in harsh pumps, forcing him back to full hardness even as Madara kept shoving his hips into Pein's. The conflicting pain and pleasure was turning Pein's head into complete mush, and all he could do was shout Madara's name when the thick cock inside of him started ramming over his prostate. His back arched tight, like a bowstring ready to snap, and Pein felt almost as tense. His body was trying both to reach orgasm and to stave it off, but Madara's constant thrusts against Pein's prostate and his hand on Pein's cock, dribbling precum as it was, made Pein realize he wasn't going to hold on for much longer. His voice started to rise in feverish pitch and his muscles, already vice tight, quivered around Madara's cock. Madara didn't slow down a beat even when he knew Pein was on the edge, he was going to force Pein over it and then-some.

Pein's mouth went lax when his orgasm started edging closer, his swollen lips opened in a round, filthy expression. Finally, moments before Pein thought he was going to lose his mind to the haze threatening him, the dam shattered to pieces inside him. Spurts of white shot from the head of his cock and spilled over his abdomen and navel in sticky white stains, and for a second, Pein felt nothing but bliss as the thrumming pleasure washed over his nerves. Soon, before he could sink too deep into that euphoria, the haze turned into a fire. It was too hot, too much, and Madara wasn't stopping or even slowing down, Pein couldn't catch his breath. "M—Madara-sama!" Pein's voice choked up somewhere in the beginning as he tried to a voice a plea, tried to tug on his arms or squeeze his legs in a bid to stop the onslaught of overwhelming feeling, but nothing worked.

Madara held Pein's hips pinned down to the bed as he fucked into him, sweat dripping down his temple as he drove into his distressed lover and ignoring how it was obviously painful. The abuse lasted but a few more minutes, but to Pein, it might as well have gone on the entire night. His whole body was vibrating with intense frissons, too wound up to come down off the high that was leaving him incoherent and shaking. He flinched when Madara came inside of him, spilling liquid heat into sore muscles. Neither man moved for a moment—Madara because he was savoring the moment, and Pein because frankly, he doubted he could. He whined low in his throat when Madara withdrew, allowing some of his come to leak onto Pein's thighs in an uncomfortably sticky, warm mess. The mattress dipped as Madara moved up to sit closer to Pein's head.

Pein's eyes were only half-open when he cut them to risk a look at his—his—at Madara. Pein was too out of it to say anything, aches covered his body, including his wrists where the rope had rubbed them raw. Madara reached a hand out and brushed some of Pein's hair, stuck to his forehead with sweat, out of his face. Pein flinched at the touch, too wary of how gentle it was. He only wanted to rest, but a piece of him worried he would wake up and find the whole thing was nothing but an elaborate genjutsu. Guilt welled in Pein's chest when he realized where his worries were coming from. After everything, after knowing he was nothing but a toy for his master, Pein still wanted it to be real.

"Don't be so jumpy, Pein." Madara's fingers carded through Pein's hair in an affectionate petting gesture. It was luring Pein's weakened and invulnerable senses into a state of relaxation and trust, but what a stupid mistake that would have been. Pein cracked open his eyes (when had he shut them? When had he leaned into Madara's hand?) and shot a hurt glower to the side.

"After what you've done to me, you have the gall to tell me that?" Pein's hoarse voice hurt his throat. Madara made a noise that was somewhere between soothing and hushing, bent down, and pressed a soft kiss against Pein's quivering lips.

"I will do to you what I see fit, Pein. If a punishment is earned, it will be given," Madara said, before he reached up and began to untie the ropes binding Pein's arms. They fell to the bed and he hissed, flexing his numb fingers in hopes to gain the circulation back faster. Madara slid an arm around his distracted lover's waist and hoisted him up to sit Pein in his lap. Pein's vision swam at the abrupt change in position, raising his arms to loop them around Madara's shoulders and keep himself steady. He murmured in appreciation as Madara kissed at his shoulder, his battered body soaking in the affection. Madara's hands grazed down Pein's sides and to his waist, where he lifted Pein's weight with an unnerving ease, never failing to make Pein feel infinitesimal. He shifted Pein in his lap, where the younger male felt the hard press of Madara's renewed erection against his inner thighs. The sugarcoated daze from the affection snapped away when Pein realized what Madara wanted.

"Madara-sama, wait, I can't—" Pein tried to plead, but he'd hardly gotten his voice to work before Madara was pushing him down onto his cock. A cry worked its way up Pein's throat as Madara forced him down onto his lap, his overworked muscles straining to accept. This time, Madara didn't wait for any adjustment. He dug his fingers into Pein's hip, urging his pet to ride him.

"Get moving," Madara spoke against Pein's ear, delivering a short nip to it. Pein whined in protest, but Madara's hands were unrelenting and bruising against Pein's hips as he forced Pein up. Slowly, Pein rocked his hips back down. His only relief was that this time, the slide was slicker, but that didn't make it any easier on his worn body. His rim and prostate were both too sensitive for the fresh abuse, pulling a whimper from Pein's mouth. He wanted to squirm away and escape the onslaught before it broke him; but his body spited him, his cock trying to get hard again despite how exhausted and sore Pein felt. The dissonance between his brain and his body was shameful. Though, a bruised, messy wreck like him probably shouldn't have any of that left.

Madara's hands on Pein's waist might be the only things keeping the bruised man upright. They were certainly the only reason Pein kept moving; each squeeze to his hips, and Madara would lift him up, forcing Pein to bounce faster on his cock. An overwhelmed sob finally sneaked past Pein's bravado, and neither shame nor humiliation could keep him from breaking. His entire body stiffened, his muscles locking painfully as a second, dry orgasm forced through him. The burst of bittersweet, wrenching pleasure blinded him for a moment, and he didn't realize he'd stilled. Madara let it slide to watch the dazed, lost expression as Pein sunk into submission. It was the perfect sight as he rolled his hips up into Pein's tense body, pushed to the edge by the beautiful display. Pein's eyes fluttered when he felt Madara's come dripping out of him, too lost to feel as disgusted as he should.

Madara's arms moved away and Pein collapsed onto the bed, a wrecked heap unable to even move and close his legs. Madara exhaled a spent sigh and leaned back, drawing Pein closer. Pein cringed as a throb traveled through his whole being, but he burrowed closer nonetheless, hungry for warmth and sleep. A long, deep sleep. "I won't tolerate failure from you, Pein," Madara's voice settled over Pein like a blanket, "next time, I won't be so lenient, though it seems you enjoy punishment too much."

That wasn't the word Pein would use, but he would be lying if he didn't. "I won't…I won't make the same mistake twice, Madara-sama," Pein promised, struggling to catch his breath. His lungs were as numb as the rest of him. With a cruel smirk, Madara leaned to brush his lips over Pein's marked throat.

"Don't ever forget who you belong to."

Pein was wrong. He was not a pawn, but the king. Madara was the player, holding the king in his palm.

/sips milk from a wine glass/ A part of me died rewriting this, may she rest in peace.