Pitch black darkness. He blinked his eyes multiple times, but could not get rid of it. He was numb, weak and surrounded by the smell of stale blood and sweat mixed with something unrecognizable.

As time elapsed, he realized he was lying face down on top of something that felt nothing like his bed. In fact the exact opposite of the familiar feeling, it was irregular and unusually warm and as immobilized he was, the spark of panic caused him to lift his body.

His limbs were all pins and needles, his throat scratchy and sore as he tried to balance himself on his knees. It was dark in his rooms and his first reaction was to use his hands to feel the unknown object underneath him.

The one beneath him had the same idea apparently because before Madara could shake out the numbness and get his flattened nerves back in action, he felt cold fingertips graze his chest.

That contact was all that was required for memories to flood his mind and he was reminded immediately of who the fingers belonged to. His vision focused on the pale body of the man lying on his bed, his hands pressed against his eyes probably in an attempt to rub out the haze out of them.

Every movement was hell for Tobirama. One side of his face was swollen and throbbed painfully. As air traveled tortuously down his throat, he looked towards the man responsible for his situation whose condition was no better.

Smears of blood covered his face and his hair was suspended around his head like a mangled mane hiding the finger-shaped bruises darkening his neck.

The mental and physical agony kept them from talking and they mostly stared at each from their awkward positions until Madara decided to get up and leave the scene.

His destination was the bathroom and his intention mostly instinctual, an attempt to get as much distance between him and Tobirama. There was still a chance that he was just a nightmare, a hallucination marking the onset of his insanity, Madara kept his dwindling hopes up.

Tobirama got up slowly to sit upright, wincing along the way as his bones achingly and reluctantly moved to execute his command. It was still night, but he assumed morning wasn't too far and would bring dilemmas of its own that he didn't want to even begin thinking about. First on his list right now was how to keep his head up since his neck wanted to collapse just from the pain.

His mouth was sealed shut from the dried blood which he pried open with the help of his saliva and fingers, groaning as the flesh from his lips literally tore off to separate. The gashes inside his mouth were still raw and after being reopened from the forced separation started to bleed again. Soothing the wounds with his tongue he decided to heal them, not because of the pain, but because of the talking that would transpire after Madara returned and he was not about to go into a verbal battle with an injured mouth.

The first rays of the dawning sun filled Madara's dark room with soft hues of orange and red as Tobirama desperately tried to mend his body, however, failing to do so completely before Madara reappeared in an ominous black robe. His hair looked way tamer and the bruises surrounding his neck were fainter, but exaggerated due to the weird illumination from the sun.

He let out a single, deep sigh at the sight of Tobirama, indicating unwillingly acceptance of the situation.

"Why are you still here?" Madara grimaced while asking in a low,flat tone really not feeling like putting energy in dealing with the situation and wanting Tobirama to make an exit out of his place and preferably out of his life.

"Just wanted to see the sunrise with you. Romantic, isn't it?" Tobirama, who was still unclothed, bruised and covered in blood, replied in a similarly flat tone. The wounds affected his ability to form words and his pronunciation came out sounding odd, but still carried with them the sardonic jab that was intended by their speaker.

Madara's expression of disgust stayed unchanged, his mouth the only thing that moved to utter a single command.

"Leave"

"Give me something to wear first."

"I am not going to repeat myself."

"Me neither."

Their eyes locked with each other in the familiar unrelenting stare of defiance for a few minutes as infiltrating beams of orange sunlight illuminated their surroundings.

"I mean, I can go like this too." Tobirama broke the silence as he slowly got up to stand up in front of the man trying to kick him out. "Just as long as you don't mind any of your clan members seeing me leave your bedroom looking like this." He continued talking while sliding his hand slowly down his torso stopping barely above his groin before sliding it upwards towards his chest. The main purpose of this act was just to add an innocent emphasis to what he meant by "looking like this", but he was well aware of the other collateral not-so-innocent purposes the gesture held.

He might be inexperienced when it came to the act, but teasing was his specialty.

"I am honestly doing this for you. You should be a little bit more appreciative." Tobirama added in a tone similar to the one an adult uses to reprimand an ungrateful child, which he knew was sure to get a reaction from Madara.

"Where the hell are your clothes?" Madara blurted, perturbed by Tobirama's ridiculous request. If it was a different situation and place, Madara would have gladly if not forcefully made Tobirama take the walk of shame, but he had a feeling that the Senju wasn't just kidding when he threatened to exit his place fully unclothed.

"Not here" Tobirama responded plainly. "Do I really have to fight with you for everything? Can't you resolve anything peacefully?" Tobirama continued his mild teasings as he took steps forward to shorten the distance between himself and Madara. From what he had gathered from his extensive research last night and before, he had concluded that it's best to get as close to Madara when dealing with him. He was a long range fighter, close combat always fumbled him up and made him vulnerable to Tobirama's quick enough, Madara became visibly uneasy as the unclad Senju advanced towards him.

Madara always knew that the cosmos itself plotted against him and people like the two Senju brothers were just manifestation of its ill will. Something in him said that it was just his innate pessimism that made him think this way, but when he's put into situations like these he can't help but reject this theory.

Tobirama was only few steps in on his way towards Madara when the sound of an urgent knock permeated through the now fully sunlit room. The sound froze both of them in place.

"Madara?"

The sound of the knock might have made their breaths hitch, but the voice of the person outside the door almost put their bodies in a complete shutdown.

Tobirama gulped audibly, his eyes widened and his jaw tightened to further hold back any voice or movement that would indicate his presence. He became terribly aware of his nudity, something that he was not bothered by just seconds ago, as soon as he realized that the voice outside undoubtedly belonged to his older brother.

Few more curt knocks resounded like gunshots in Madara's room and rang in his ears like his heartbeat. These fucking brothers were going to be his death of him he knew it. Honestly, at this point he yearned for one of them to just behead him and release him from the back and forth torture they enjoy putting him in.

But this was not the time to contemplate suicide, more of a tell-Tobirama-to-get-the-fuck-out-here time. Before Madara could turn to the Senju inside his room to urge him to make the quickest exit out of his place, Tobirama had already halfway made it to the door without a shred of covering on his body with the obvious intention to open it.

"Madara….it's ...uh ...Hashirama. Are you in there?"

Madara didn't know when he lifted his feet to chase after Tobirama, who has completely lost his mind he is assuming, but his hand was currently holding the pale wrist of the Senju with crushing force successfully preventing his hand from making contact with his door and committing an act that not even death could rid the embarrassment of.

Madara stared wide eyed at Tobirama,holding his breath in order to avoid giving evidence of his presence to the man that stood literally inches away from him.

His eyes caught the face of the Senju in his restraint and his previous assumption that that he was possessed by insanity to even think that opening the door was a good idea was completely discarded when he saw his badly bruised lips stretch into a familiar conniving smirk.

It was deliberate, all of it, of course like almost everything was with Tobirama. His intention was never to open the door, only to elicit a reaction from Madara. It was always so much fun to make the Uchiha do things out of desperation. Turning such a cold and calculating being into an incoherent mess, watching him struggle to pick between logic or his animalistic desires. Tobirama felt almost sinful admitting that he enjoyed tearing apart another man like that. Madara, however, deserved every bit of it so the guilt was only half baked.

Slightly swollen eyes glinted at Madara with mischief and boiled his blood. He painfully increased the pressure on Tobirama's wrist to relay his anger and watched his smirk wane into a slight wince.

"You know I can hear you in there, Madara. Don't ignore me." Hashirama, who was naturally growing impatient standing outside, chimed in completely unaware of the silent war going on behind the door.

"Get the hell out of here" Madara could only mouth his commands to Tobirama, tightening his grip on his wrist instead of raising his voice and hoping that it would have the same effect. He would have broken the joint easily, preferably, but couldn't with all the risks involved and if that wasn't crappy enough Tobirama knew this was exactly the case and of course took advantage of it.

"Give me your robe." Tobirama barely whispered back, half smirking half wincing. The ridiculous reply caused Madara to almost flinch because though it was just a whisper it sounded loud enough to him to be heard on the other side.

He strained his hearing to pick up any kind of sound from Hashirama and heard the impatient Senju sigh right before hearing a deafening series of knocks.

"Come on, at least just tell me you're busy and want me to go away. It's better than being ignored." Hashirama's voice had no trouble reaching the two men through the thin wall of the door, the feigned remorse of being left unacknowledged crystal clear in it.

Madara became reflexively rigid after the response, the dangerous possibility of Hashirama making a forced entry into his bedroom causing cold sweat to drip down his temples and cover his body.

Something even colder slid across his skin, but unlike the downward stream of his sweat it traveled upwards. His breath hitched in instinctive response and originally he would have panicked about the Senju outside, but the one inside right now was slithering his cold palm up his chest and he only had so much panic to pass around.

Tobirama's hand slid upwards from Madara's chest to the back of his neck and without any warning pulled the panicked man towards himself only leaving enough space between their faces to only slightly brush against the other man's lips.\After making sure that he had all of Madara's attention he mouthed the same words again.

"Give. Me. Your. Robe." This time right against his lips, accentuating and pausing after each words to making sure his own lightly pressed against the other's.

All Tobirama received as a response was a shaky breath against his face, not like he expected much. Madara was pathetically trapped and oh man he almost felt bad for him at this point, but he had to do what he had to and a little torture was always fun especially so when Madara was the one receiving it.

To make matters easy for the other man and hurry this along because he could practically feel Hashirama's impatience through the door, he freed his other hand from Madara's now lax grip and started to work on untying the sash of his robe.

Warm, shuddering breath dampened against their mouths almost like they were breathing into each other- a little more distance and they'd be connected. Not yet though, this time Tobirama wanted Madara to fall into him and the way those red eyes were half closed and heavy he knew it was only a matter of time.

Tobirama let his hand wander a bit, cold fingertips grazed the staunch muscles of Madara's abdomen continuing on to the trail of fine hair leading to his eventual destination, but stopping right before to travel back upwards to his chest. He was a fucking tease and he knew it and smirked against the other's lips as he felt his body contract from that small betrayal.

Madara was once again stuck in a unwanted tug-of-war, forced to participate and fight against his inner demons and his scant humanity. His demons wanted to devour him just like they wanted him to devour Tobirama. The light touches to the sensitive skin of chest and the "accidental" brushes against the nubs of his nipples increased his hunger in all the wrong ways.

His humanity, as always, focused on Hashirama, his presence merely inches away, though not having as much of a potent effect and that surprised him. The pain and paralysis that were always the symptoms of him even thinking about the older Senju only present in his mind rather than his body. Or was it even that? Maybe it was just a habitual wanting to feel miserable. He didn't know anymore, didn't know what to think about, only the incredible sensation of fingertips crawling down his back, inducing goosebumps and bringing his arousal to life.

"Tobi..rama…" Madara breath out,without fear of being heard, as the younger Senju slipped his hands down the 'V' of his Adonis belt and down to his thighs,barely skipping the part of him the most needy of attention. Tobirama let out a small "hmph" of amusement and widened his smiirk.

The sun was now flooding the small room with bright sunlight that highlighted all their bruises and wounds from last night. In a daze, Madara eyed the Senju sporting his battle scars that were at various states of healing. On his pale skin every shade of his wounds was so defined, from the purple of coagulated blood of his bruises to the rust of the clotted blood surrounding the slitted flesh, it was an entire palette of bodily injuries.

It was beautiful.

His white hair lied on his head in damp wisps marked here and there with a sprinkle of dried blood either his own or maybe Madara's. His red eyes stared at Madara, glassy, but focused and Madara's would have stared back if they hadn't rolled back from the sudden harsh grip on his impending erection, and that's all it took for his demons to gain effortless victory.

Before either one of them knew what was happening, their lips were locked, smashed, together with Madara fingers entrenched into Tobirama's hair pulling him into himself and simultaneously dragging him backwards towards the unkempt bed they just left.

Tobirama dug his fingers into the Uchiha's back to balance himself from being so roughly hauled. Within seconds his feet left contact with the ground and his back hit the same familiar softness of Madara's bed.

"If we're going to do this, we're going to do it the right way." Madara declared as he discarded his robe. There was no anger, panic or hatred in voice anymore just a strong, almost malicious determination mixed with the right amount of lust.

"That's what I've been wanting this entire time." Tobirama almost giddily due to finally achieving the impossible mission, his goal to get Madara to comply. Unfortunately for him, he was given every little time to celebrate.

"And now you have gotten what you wanted. I wouldn't look so happy if I were you." The Uchiha replied, the malice truly evident in his voice and appearance this time. His usual red sharingan was a menacing dark maroon laden with hunger, his brimming smile bared his teeth in a manner to further reflect that hunger causing Tobirama to frown a little in confusion.

"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, Senju. No fucking idea."