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Little White Lies

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The patrols weren’t quite out of range yet but Tobirama was more than aware that his range far exceeded that of a normal shinobi, certainly that of the two men he could feel moving farther east by the second. Neither of them would have been able to sense him for the last four miles but he had to be sure. This wasn’t something he wanted to be interrupted in the middle of.

Damn Madara for catching him just before he left. He’d thought getting such an early start would avoid any possible interactions but he’d failed to take in to account Madara’s penchant for rising early on the days he knew he would have more paperwork to do. So instead of making an easy escape Tobirama had been stopped by the one person he was trying to avoid and forced to maintain an outward appearance of calm, desperately trying not to let his reaction to this man show in any way. Not an easy endeavor.

He had escaped as quickly as he could without giving more offense than usual, streaking away from the village as though hell itself were nipping at his heels. Now the very moment he felt safely beyond the reach of anyone’s senses Tobirama ground to a halt, stumbling as he dropped his mission pack to the ground and letting his weight fall backwards against the closest tree, hands scrabbling for his waistline. Damn Madara for that stupidly attractive voice of his. Just listening to the way he growled his words in the early dawn, sleep lingering in every syllable, it set a fire under Tobirama’s skin that only one thing had ever helped.

An involuntary shiver ran through him when the crisp autumn air seeped in but he paid it no mind, tugging harder on the fastenings of his clothing until he was spilling out the front of them and wrapping warm fingers around himself with a groan of relief. Running with an erection was quite possibly the most uncomfortable thing in the world. He wished he could say this was the first time he suffered through this condition because of something Madara had done. It would be a lie if he tried, though.

Gods.” Tobirama ground his teeth together and let his head slam back in to the wood supporting him, one hand roughly holding his clothes out of the way as the other stroked upwards with a firm grip, too firm, just the way he always pictured Madara would touch him. The older man had so many rough edges to his personality that Tobirama liked to imagine would spill over in to the bedroom. In the moments he let his mind explore, he drove himself onwards with fantasies of teeth biting, nails dragging, hands too tight around his hips and a mouth that took too much too fast. Everything about Madara always struck him as too much too fast but oh how he wanted it.

Dragging his hand down and back up, Tobirama closed his eyes, letting his photographic memory construct the image of Madara’s hands there instead, Madara’s sharp grin with too many teeth to be anything but feral. He hardly noticed when his breath started coming in panting gasps. Boiling heat raged through his veins and something soundless was ringing through his ears – or maybe he was just hearing his own voice chanting the same word over and over under his breath, the same name he’d whispered to the darkness of his bedroom so many times before. Every time he told himself this had to be the last time he thought of the man this way and every time it was a lie. The mere thought of having Madara’s hands on his body was addictive enough. Tobirama could only imagine how overwhelming it would be to experience the real thing.

What he wouldn’t give to have it though.

Swiping his thumb across the head on an upward pass, Tobirama nearly choked on a harsh cry. His other hand shoved at his pants some more until they were low enough to reach below and roll his sacs between his fingers. After a gentle tug he reached lower, hunkering down against the tree and bending forward until he could press one knuckle against his own perineum, hardly caring that his jaw was hanging open now in stunned pleasure.

He would kill for some lube at the moment, although even as he thought that he knew he simply wouldn’t have the patience for that right now. Clones and a good henge could make for some amazing nights alone but the visceral need burning through him at the moment wasn’t something that could wait for some big drawn out scene. Now was the time for increasing the speed of his hand and letting his hips thrust upwards in jerky uncoordinated motions, drawing out yet another cry of pleasure as he felt himself drawing close.

“Madara…” His voice rasped and broke and the fantasy playing behind his eyelids grinned at him again, making him whimper. Would Madara like the sounds he made? Would it please him how desperate Tobirama was for his touch?

Fuuuck!” So close. He was so fucking close. Hand moving faster, fingers holding tighter, belly clenching and thighs quaking and then – that perfect moment of white hot clarity as his orgasm hit him with the force of a punch to the gut, doubling him over. Tobirama worked himself for as long as he could, stroking his cock through the brilliance until the sensations were just too intense and he released himself with an explosive breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Sliding down the trunk of the tree, Tobirama grimaced when his bare ass hit the dirt and landed right on a very uncomfortable rock. Both his hands slid out of his clothes and he braced the one not covered in seed on a trembling thigh to hold himself up.

It was always an intense experience whenever Madara got in to his head like this and yet he always managed to be surprised by it in the aftermath. With a low groan, he let his head fall back against the tree and clenched his sticky fist. Now he wouldn’t have to run with an erection but he was going to need several minutes of recovery before his legs stopped shaking enough to even stand, let alone run all the way to Ame territory. Doing this out in the open forest where an enemy could happen upon him – or god forbid an ally – would definitely have been stupid if it weren’t for his hypersensitive sensor abilities. Tobirama wasn’t sure he would outlive the shame of being caught jerking off on a mission with Madara’s name on his lips.

He frowned, glaring down at his softening cock. This had to stop. It was getting just a bit ridiculous if he couldn’t even have a five minute conversation with the man on a public street without losing his head. When he returned from his mission, Tobirama told himself, he would need to speak with Madara. Things had been amicable between them lately and there was that one time he was almost positive he’d caught the other man staring at him when he’d taken his shirt off for a spar.  No matter what the outcome, however, they needed to talk. He needed to either get over his obsession or get under it. Either solution was viable.

For now he needed to get going. Tobirama wiped himself clean with some of the gauze from his med kit, burned it all, and then buried the ashes. Hopefully no one questioned why his kit needed restocking again so soon.

Then he hauled himself to his feet and straightened his clothes, looking around for the pack he’d carelessly tossed off before. When he left the clearing the only sign that he had been there was the small patch of disturbed earth where his essence was buried and the almost indecipherable print of his bare ass at the base of an unmarked tree. Tobirama told himself he would put this incident completely out of his mind and focus only on his mission, that he would not think about Madara until he could return home and speak to the man about the possibility of a future between them.

It was a lie – but a little white lie never hurt anyone.