Current Title: It's Not A Free World
Previous Title: Hormonal Disadvantages
Rated: Fiction T
Genre: Romance, Humour
Initial Content: Kishimoto Masashi NARUTO Shippuden
Full Summary: It was their fault he had wandered into her bedroom, uninvited, in the middle of the night. It was not because he had issues with his pride or sexuality. Nope. Madara blamed Pein and Konan – it was all their fault.

It's Not A Free World

Overhead, the insistent rhythm of a bed as it met the wall, over and over, reverberated into the otherwise silent house. Somewhere, in one of the hidden chambers on the third-storey of the genjutsu-swathed home, used as the initial base for the Akatsuki, the self-proclaimed leader of the infamous organization seemed to find an absolute pleasure in both satisfying his bed-mate, and disturbing the other occupants from their well-deserved slumber. And, this did not please Uchiha Madara, whom remained immobile in the underground bowels of the base, his intellectual mind restless.

It took little time before the Uchiha clan founder re-dressed in loose-fitted sweatpants, and a cotton shirt, and abandoned his chamber to the main floor. From the disturbance which cluttered the air quietly, he could tell that he wasn't the only one bothered by the involvement between Pein and Konan. The first person he stumbled across was an irate, Yugakure shinobi; Hidan's calloused, scarred hands cradled a ceramic mug – the delicate fragrance of green tea wafted from the ivory-coloured mug, which he inhaled deeply. Beside him, his exhausted relative, Uchiha Itachi, threaded his hands through his coarse, charcoal-coloured hair; the calm, pacifist of his clan was also bothered by the lack of sleep, which was unusual, because the man needed little slumber to function.

"Of course, when I assigned partners into this organization," the almost-immortal started as he ran his hands through his thick, black mane and pulled it off of his face in a messy ponytail. "I did not intend for this to happen,"

"You're fucking right about that," Hidan agreed.

"It's not like we're on the brink of war or anything," the other Uchiha said in a sarcastic tone.

In sluggish movements, the former Iwagakure shinobi of the Akatsuki slid into the room, lacking his usual grace, but still refined by his harsh, close-to-barbaric strides. "I can't believe they're having sex in a time like this. I want to have s–

"Oh, shut-up, Deidara," Madara ordered as he sank into a leather-clad seat, opposite the other three shinobi.

"What? Do you really blame me, ya' old geezer?" Deidara demanded, his temper heated. "When was the last time you got action, hmm? Last century?"

"You're pushing your luck, pretty boy," the older Uchiha pointed out.

"Deidara, leave it," Itachi said and turned his attention to the blonde male.

"You're a fucking fool to say that, you fucking idiot,"

"When was the last time any of you guys had any?!"

"When was the last fucking time you had any with a woman?" Hidan intervened.

It was a shuddered moment before the renowned, blonde terrorist tackled the religious man onto the ground; the ceramic mug shattered across the pale linoleum, and spilt the mouth-watering tea all across the floor. The Iwagakure shinobi manoeuvred his tired limbs in an offensive stance, as he propelled his comrade off of the leather-bound couch, and into the far wall. The decorative war-fan which Madara had hung on the wall beside the couch, clambered onto the ground, and threatened to tear as Hidan crushed it beneath his muscled abdomen. The oldest member of the Akatsuki breathed out and tried to cool his temper, but it was difficult to maintain, as the other two shinobi wrestled.

Hidan choked out a hearty laugh, before he hacked up a small handful of blood. "I'm impressed; I never thought that such a fucking feminine, little c–

"For Christ's s–

Madara's voice was drowned out as Deidara lunged at Hidan again, and sent the other man through the wall behind him. The Uchiha clansman ducked beneath the childish men, and watched in distaste as debris of wood, plaster and wallpaper splintered beneath the harsh pressure of the strike, and scattered across the ornate furniture in the common room. On the other side of the room, Itachi stared at the colossal mess that his comrades had made in obvious irritation, and the human-sized hole which had been created.

"I hope they don't expect us to clean that up," Itachi commented as he gestured to the state of the room. "By now, they should have learnt not to break anything,"

"They're children. But, I am still not pleased about the state of my home," Madara said. "I furnished this home with the funds and fortune I had had from my earlier life, and I do not appreciate it's end,"

"Of course, not,"

Madara frowned as he lifted his ornate, war-fan out of the debris and shook the plaster off of the ancient instrument. "At least, Pein and Konan h–

In the silence, overhead, Konan screamed and the bed strained beneath the sheer velocity in which Pein seemed to force it into.

"You spoke too soon, Madara,"

"It would seem, so," he murmured and turned to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" Itachi asked, ignoring the loud thudding noises as Deidara and Hidan continued to ruin the elaborate household.

"No where in particular."

Noise.

Haruno Sakura decided she hated noise. And, so far, the usual serene, Akatsuki base was absorbed in it; not the comfortable tranquillity of silence, but rather the consistent thunder of noise. It had started above; Pein and Konan had the stamina of two well-seasoned shinobi, therefore, she had to teach herself to tune out the insistent banging. However, now, it was also downstairs. And, it wasn't fair.

It had been less than five hours since Sakura had returned from a lengthy, retrieval mission which involved the accidental assassination of the daimyō's wife, Madam Shijimi, and a lot less information than initially thought. Pein had not been pleased, and she had not been in much of a better mood. Nonetheless, she had gained certain information about her former alliance – Konohagakure – and decided that it wasn't a total loss. Not to mention, at least, Madam Shijimi's poor, tormented cat could live without it's overbearing owner. Sakura had retired to her bedroom – which she shared with the mass-murderer, Akasuna no Sasori, whom should have died, but didn't – in a lot more infuriated mood than usual. Sasori had laughed at the adolescent female, before he had departed for his own mission, which was, without a doubt, another retrieval mission.

"Ohmigod! Can't they give it a rest!" Sakura shouted, aloud, not caring that she'd most likely be heard. Sakura decided that life sucked, especially, if she had to live another sleepless night.

"Oh, my, isn't someone in a bad mood?"
"Go away, Uchiha," she hissed and turned on her side, ignoring the fact that she hadn't noticed his entrance into her bedroom, but not idiotic enough to give him that simple pleasure in knowing that. "If you haven't noticed, I want to sleep,"

"So, the kitty has claws, does she?" Madara's smooth, seductive laughter followed his snide, sexy comment before he sauntered across the burgundy carpet, and closer to her bed.

Sakura could feel the rich pelts of power and masculinity behind her, but chose to ignore him. "I'll use these claws to tear off your balls, slowly and painfully, and laugh when you regenerate,"

Much too quickly, and even if she hadn't been half-awake from fatigue, she doubted she could have stopped him, he slid beneath her silken covers beside her and cornered her slender form against the wall. Sakura frowned, shocked, and turned to face the oldest member of the Uchiha clan. Of course, he wore that irritable, sexy smile, whenever he tried to seduce her into submission. Nonetheless, she was not some sort of prostitute that allowed any attractive man of free reign of her body, because she respected herself. And, he knew this well. Should have learnt, after the first time he had kissed her, and had been head-butted off. It wasn't the classiest of moves, and she had almost knocked herself out, but, it did the job.

"I know you'd like to do... other things with them, if you were given the chance," Madara said and leaned his face closer.

"Get out of my bed, Madara," she ordered. "I swear, I will do a whole lot more to you than that, if you don't get out of my bed,"

"Promise?"

It wasn't his fault that he was tempted by her, and although he had voluntarily sought her out, he still blamed Deidara's blunt comment which had lead him here. It had wounded his pride, although he didn't show it, when his inferior had dared to make such a statement. And not for the first time, he had found himself outside Sakura's bedroom, after he had left an irate Itachi to mediate the squabbling shinobi, wanting no more than to replicate the same act as Pein and Konan.

"For, Christ's sake, Madara! Get out!" Sakura slammed the base of her palms against his well-built chest, and sent him off the side of the bed.

"That wasn't nice, Sakura," he said, sounding serious, but she knew better than to believe him. If he was serious, she would be dead by now.

"Goodnight, Madara,"

"Who can sleep with those two going at it?" Madara remained immobile and still on the carpet, and stared at the ivory-painted ceiling.

"That doesn't mean we have to go at it,"

There was a moment of silence, before he answered. "So, you've considered?"

Frustrated, Sakura slammed a silken, plush pillow into the side of his face with enough force that the insides burst out, and smothered the masculine individual in squashed, white feathers. Sakura leant over the edge of the bed, and laughed at the pathetic sight; the most famed, and infamous shinobi of all time, covered in feathers seemed quite pitiful. Madara was not impressed; he did not appreciate the myriad of feathers which coated him, and wondered if he should have infiltrated her bedroom. For the most part, he had known she would downright refuse his indirect proposal, and taunting her already brutal temper in the state she had wound herself in now, wasn't his most smartest of decisions. Nonetheless, he was an Uchiha, and he was used to getting what he wanted.

"You look ridiculous," she commented as she giggled at the Uchiha clansman, before she stumbled out of the bed to help him to his feet.

Madara arched as he rose to his feet. Like most Uchiha men, he was tall and broad-shouldered, with an insatiable iris hue which could have been distinguished as a dark, cobalt-blue, beneath the glare of light. But, in the dark, his features were shrouded in a dark haze. It didn't end his attractive-streak, however, and dare she say it – it increased his alluring demeanour.

"I have you, to blame for that," he answered coolly, as he plucked a feather from his tied-back mane, and examined it was slight irritation.

"No, I think it's your fault for wandering in here," Sakura accused and coiled a silken sheet around her rather exposed body.

Sakura was a kunoichi, therefore, she was comfortable with showing more skin than an ordinary, Japanese civilian, but in front of the likes of the hormonal and attractive Uchiha founder, she felt it necessary to hide as much of her pale skin as possible. And dressed in no more than cotton underwear meant to look like small, lime-green shorts and an oversized shirt that she had stolen out of Sasori's dresser, on the other side of the room. The satin sheets smoothed around her curvaceous figure and bulked around her narrow hips, bunching and ending in a crumpled mess an inch above her knees.

Madara snorted. "Hardly. In reality, neither of us are to blame. It is truly Pein's fault,"

"Don't act so high and mighty," she scolded and headed in the general direction of her pine dresser. "You're just unhappy that you aren't getting any,"

The Uchiha clansman decided not to confront her rude comment and instead, rolled his dark-painted eyes. "It's unfair,"

In his voice, there was a certain dejected, playful tone used that reminded Sakura oddly of a child. Regardless, she could still brutally remind herself that man she seemed so comfortable to converse with, dressed in almost no more than her skin, was also a barbaric murderer whom had aided Itachi with the slaughter of their own clan. It was a topic she would often avoid with both men, especially Itachi, but whereas whenever the massacre was mentioned around him, it was clear the obvious remorse and self-loathing he possessed, whilst Madara was filled with in an insatiable pride. Although playful and provocative, Madara was no more than a s-ranked murderer. On the otherhand, Sakura was still unsure of her place in the infamous criminal organization is where she belonged. Nevertheless, she knew that Konohagakure was not her home – not anymore.

"You're a child," she waved her hand at him and crouched low, blindly moulding a poorly constructed outfit.

"I am, am I?"

In fluid movements which could belong to no other than a seasoned criminal, accustomed to lithe, agile getaways, Madara had crouched down beside her and cornered her against the pine dresser. The masculine scent that wafted around him – of peppermint and forestry, camp-fire and the sea – quickly assaulted her and smothered her senses. Behind her, she could feel the tantalizing caress of his muscled chest against the flexible curve of her back as his body heat overwhelmed her. Sakura swallowed and turned her head to stare at him over the small hill of her bare shoulder, and into dark cobalt-tinted irises.

"I... I..."

Madara leaned forward and stroked the hard line of his nose across hers in a gentle, affectionate notion which startled her, and caused her to inhale sharply; the older male smirked and inched closer, ending the distance between them. In a momentary lapse of control, Sakura melted into his chest and allowed his arms to wind around her smaller frame. The kiss had started chaste and innocent, but soon escalated; Madara's talented hands climbed along the side of her leg, and moved beneath the sheet which cuddled her. It was then that Sakura returned to her senses – no matter how splintered they were at this point. Quickly, Sakura wound her arms around his neck and turned around, kneeling between his legs, still yet to separate. Madara smirked and pulled her closer. Sakura drew back and feigned embarrassment; the male was quick to tempt her once more. However, before he could, she allowed the flow of chakra to reach her knees and then, impaled her knee roughly between his legs. Madara gagged and dropped back.

"Pervert,"

"S-Sakura..." he stuttered out and cradled his precious jewels. "I-I thought this was a free world?"

"Hardly." Sakura rose and stepped over the fallen soldier, teasing him with a tantalizing flash of the inside of her creamy thigh. Madara groaned and remained immobile as she abandoned the room.

It wasn't the most comedic story I had ever written but in my perspective, it wasn't terrible either. It's more CRACK than anything else, and I had somehow intended to keep this as canon as possible. Instead, I reverted back to my lazy ways and couldn't be bothered. Oh, well. I sincerely hope that I did this pairing justice and that it wasn't too bad. I'd appreciate reviews (although, I know how little this couple gains coverage). Anyway, until next time!

- P. Lambert-Jensen