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For all that there was no shortage of tales about Madara's alleged cruelty, barely anyone would expect the depths of his true depravity. After all, ever since he fully realised the nature of his innermost desires, he'd made an effort to hide it from friend and foe alike—never to be perceived but for a select few.
Of which neither had lasted.
While the rumours about his thirst for blood were vastly exaggerated, one thing remained true: There was little Madara enjoyed more than breaking the unbreakable.
Another truth was that no one he’d ever met had been as enduring as Senju Tobirama.
Madara peered up at the tear-streaked face, monitoring the damage done to bloodied lips as the younger man tried and failed to bite back any more of the sounds Madara had wrung from him over the past few hours.
"You're doing so well," he praised before he dipped his tongue into the slit of Tobirama's cock, enjoying another taste of salty bitterness. While the Senju had so far managed to stave off his orgasm despite Madara's incessant teasing, precum had started leaking almost the very moment his cock had been freed from the cage that had prevented him from getting hard before.
Suffice to say, poor Tobirama did have some tiring days behind him already. It was truly admirable how well he was still holding himself together.
Not for much longer, though. That much was clear when dazed red eyes barely managed to track his movements from underneath wet lashes. In an impressive attempt to heed Madara's command not to find release before he was allowed to, Tobirama's whole body had tensed up in a way that would've broken a lesser man's bones.
At this point, he must be beyond exhausted, which meant he was almost ripe for today's great finale, and the anticipation was killing Madara. It would be a marvellous performance, he could feel it in his very soul.
"Just a little bit more, and I'll allow you to cum."
Tobirama choked when Madara bowed over his lap and swallowed his length down without further ado. There was no need for finesse, not anymore. He had balanced the Senju on the edge for the past two days, denying him the release he so desperately ached for time and time again.
As one would expect based on his reputation, so far the White Demon's self-control had been downright inhuman.
Madara could not wait to shatter it beyond repair.
Taking Tobirama’s soft whimper as his cue, Madara withdrew for good after a final flick of tongue and settled back on his heels just out of reach, activating his sharingan without an ounce of shame. He would not miss this opportunity, and Tobirama was beyond caring anyway.
At least he would be, very soon.
"Good," Madara cooed, voice deceivingly soft. "You may let go."
While he really should've known better than to trust Madara, Tobirama moaned at the long-awaited permission—only for the sound to break off into a wordless whine when he couldn't reach down to take himself in hand and find release.
Keeping his breath forcibly calm, Madara recorded how the Senju thrashed in his forgotten bindings, red ropes a delightful compliment to the tattoos adorning pale skin as his back arched off the mattress and his muscles strained against the restriction of his limbs.
Madara tsked in mocking disapproval. "Haven't I taken good care of you? Come on, let go, if that is what you want," he taunted. "You don't have to, of course."
Sharingan still spinning, Madara feasted on the growing alarm in Tobirama's wild eyes when he finally realised the trap laid out for him. Or, well, what he thought to be the trap, as if Madara would already be done with him after just a few days.
This was nothing yet, merely a warm-up for the sensual torment he had planned for Tobirama.
Madara would unmake him, tear to shreds the iron-clad control he'd built his sense of self around until there was nothing left for him to cling to.
Nothing but Madara.
"Three."
Tobirama's cock was still achingly hard, still flushed an angry purple and drooling thin precum—but nothing more. The frustration was obvious in every tense line of his body, face scrunched up into a focused grimace as he tried to relax, which was entirely beyond Tobirama in his current state and mindset.
Why else would Madara have teased the man while challenging him to hold back, forcing him to tense up lest he lose control and risk punishment?
"Two."
Finally acknowledging that he couldn't help himself, Tobirama's composure broke at long last. Made all the sweeter for how rare it was for the proud man to beg.
"Please, I need-"
Unfortunately for Tobirama, Madara’s goal today was not to make him sing. Meeting desperate eyes head-on, Madara allowed a soft smile to slowly unfold on his lips.
"You need nothing that I do not deign to give you."
Madara savoured a moment of silent suspense between them before he pushed a little bit further, knowing full well that he was making it all but impossible for Tobirama to succeed.
"One. Last chance."
Realising the futility of his plea, Tobirama threw back his head and yelled—unorthodox in the bedroom, maybe, but not unheard of to try and release some tension. Madara wasn't worried, though. True enough, the short burst of angry frustration was soon replaced by helpless desperation as Tobirama's voice broke into a sob, body trembling and shaking when his last-ditch effort at relaxing proved useless because he was too pent-up for it to succeed in any meaningful way.
While Madara had refused to touch Tobirama before, now he reached out with chakra coiled in his palm, ignoring the babbled pleas as he took a careful hold of Tobirama's erection and forced it down.
When the cock was flaccid, Madara calmly stuffed it back into the cage he had specifically gotten for this occasion, one that allowed for long-term use without any adverse effects. While he did train Tobirama on orgasm control—edged and denied him at his leisure—who knew what he might want to do another time?
It would be a shame if he decided to take their training further, expand the control aspect in the opposite direction and force orgasm after orgasm out of the younger man, only to have his plans thwarted by erectile dysfunction caused by unsafe play. That really wouldn’t do. Madara wouldn't have his fun cut short like that—he took care of his belongings.
Madara carefully loosened the rope that had kept Tobirama in place and hindered him from chasing his own orgasm. He took great care to unwind it slowly, checking the pink marks left behind with soft touches and broad strokes, soothing any lingering ache before it could turn into pain.
Any, but one, as Tobirama’s cock remained untouched and locked away while pent-up arousal still wreaked havoc on his body.
Madara gathered the sobbing mess into his arms, held him close as he hiccuped through the aftershocks of his denied release. It took longer than he expected for Tobirama to calm from devastated sobs down to soft sniffles, but Madara didn't mind the wait. He kept up the soft touches until he deemed his lover calm enough to switch to a wet cloth, wiping his body down to remove all traces of sweat and precum from the naked skin marred by scars, tattoos and rope marks.
At last, Madara cradled Tobirama's face and forced him to look up from where he had hidden in the crook of Madara's neck. As beautiful as he was on any given day, Tobirama was rarely as striking as he was now, covered in half-dried tears and snot, blood still clinging to his lips and chin.
It was a good look on him; Madara would need to put it there more often.
With his sharingan still active, Madara committed the sight to memory before he started to clean up the mess. He found solace in the fact that Tobirama's eyes would still be puffed up and red-rimmed—undeniable proof of his distress, of how deeply Madara had affected him.
He lingered for a moment longer before he let his sharingan bleed away at long last. The sudden change in his chakra flow startled Tobirama out of his drowsy exhaustion and his eyes properly focused for the first time since desperation had taken away all sense.
It would be a lie to say Madara's heart didn't swell when the proud man intentionally nuzzled into the hand still cradling his face. When they first fell into bed together—first started doing this—hell would have frozen over before Tobirama would have allowed himself to seek comfort from anyone, let alone Madara.
How far they've come since then.
Tobirama truly blossomed beautifully under Madara's cruel care, but there was still a long way to go until he would be bored of breaking the man apart and mending the pieces. Truthfully, Madara didn’t think it was likely to ever happen.
"How much more do you think you can take?"
They were a bit on a schedule, and Madara was determined to make the most of the time they had. There was only a week of leave left until they had to return to their daily duties—had to attend their respective responsibilities, divorced from those they'd imposed on each other.
"Is that a challenge?"
Tobirama's voice was nothing but a rasp and Madara lifted a cup of water to his lips, feeling a perverse sort of contentment as he helped to ease the discomfort he caused.
"Isn't it always?"
Tobirama turned his head with a wry smile, red-rimmed eyes soft with tacit understanding as he answered Madara's initial question.
"However much you need me to."