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Tobirama didn’t care about the amount of noise he made as he used his renowned speed and raced through the foreign trees growing in the no-man’s-land between the Senju and Uchiha territories. He was better off placing all of his resources on one card to get as much space between himself and his pursuiter and had abandoned all attempts at stealth early on. Especially after it became quite clear that the thrice-damned seal on his back didn’t just temper his chakra down to a tickle but also acted as a beacon for anyone with the barest grip on sensing.
Their prestigious liege was taking no chances with his demand for peace, and it left Tobirama seething. So much that he even indulged in the luxury of wasting precious air to curse his rotten luck under his breath.
It would be a welcome surprise if for once - only once - his brother didn’t persist in making Tobirama’s life more difficult than it already was on a good day. He had no idea what could have possibly possessed Hashirama to start a fight at court, of all places, and with Izuna at that. If his brother’s morals weren’t so much more befitting for a samurai than a shinobi, Tobirama might have called it calculated manipulation. After all, peace with the Uchiha had always been Hashirama’s greatest dream.
It was only due to his visible remorse and dread that saved Hashirama - for once from Tobirama’s and Butsuma’s combined ire - when he returned to the compound with a decree sealed by the daimyo’s personal wax and a ‘most trusted’ official accompanying him.
No matter how Butsuma raged - his long-standing plans for overthrowing the Uchiha all but invoked now that Tajima was dead - there was no way around it. The Senju were decreed to make peace with the Uchiha, bound in matrimony, or having all rights and contracts revoked, their people and lands ending up as free-for-all for anyone who’d have the might to take it.
As much as Hashirama and Madara were acknowledged for their strength, even if they united, they wouldn’t be able to protect those under their respective care if the daimyo decided to follow through with his threat and declare a hunt on their clans; combining his civil resources with the samurai and remaining shinobi clans to bring the Senju and Uchiha down in a way that had never been seen before in Fire. But Tobirama had seen purges like this take place in Water, and he knew it was a fate to be averted at any cost.
Even if it came at the cost of a more personal hunt.
Marriage hunts were an old custom, almost forgotten by anyone but the Hatake and the court historians. A custom to bind two lives together by laws older than their lands, older than most of their stories even, in a way that couldn’t ever be revoked.
But although Hashirama and Izuna were at fault, they didn’t have to pay the price for peace. With Hashirama already promised to a princess of Uzushio, it fell onto Tobirama to stand in for the Senju. And unmarried as he was, Madara had to participate in the hunt as the Uchiha clan head.
That the both of them were forced to participate in their offending brothers’ stead was a tasteless joke that Tobirama couldn’t find any humour in. And if his thunderous expression at the beginning of the night and the turmoil in his chakra even now after hours of punishing speed was anything to go by, Madara couldn’t either.
Tobirama scoffed, the sound echoing disturbingly loud in the quiet night. As if the Uchiha had anything to worry about. There was only one way this hunt could end, and Tobirama was well aware of it, as was Hashirama.
Hashirama’s anguish ever since he’d realised what fate his carelessness had brought upon his last brother was not cooling Tobirama’s ire in the slightest. Taking Tobirama permanently off the honeypot roster was the one ultimatum Hashirama had ever successfully forced upon their father, but apparently, the relief was only to be short-lived.
The cool oil clinging to his skin where it had trickled down his thighs was a persistent reminder of what was about to happen, of what Tobirama would be forced to let happen if he didn’t want his clan to be executed. In the end, Tobirama had no chance of getting away, of gaining his freedom with the first ray of sunshine warming his skin.
This was no true hunt; it was a farce.
For peace to be made per the daimyo’s decree, the hunt would need to end while the moon was still up, its light witnessing the consummation of their marriage in the eyes of kami and men alike.
Tobirama could only hope to extend the hunt until there wouldn’t be much time left for Madara to draw his victory out. Maybe he even managed to exhaust himself to a point where he would pass out as soon as he was forced to stop; it would likely be the most desirable outcome of today’s endeavour. Afterwards, he could figure out the rest of his marital life one day at a time. His marital life as Uchiha fucking Madara’s spouse because, apparently, this would be his life now.
With his senses dulled and his mind occupied, Tobirama lost his footing when Madara suddenly crashed into his side as if Tobirama’s dour thoughts summoned him. They fell through the branches, grappling each other like children, and Tobirama wasn’t ashamed to admit he even resorted to pulling sharply at Madara’s surprisingly soft hair to get up and running again.
The moon was still too high, the night still long. Too long for the quick over and done with consummation that Tobirama was aiming for.
Despite his efforts, though, Tobirama felt something catch around his ankle, taking hold as it pulled his foot from where it was about to land on another tree branch, causing him to crash down to the ground with a yelled curse. And while he immediately tried to spring back into action, tried to get away once more to draw out the inevitable, to taste the last hint at freedom he would ever have, it shouldn’t be.
Madara’s heavy weight settled on Tobirama’s back, an unmovable force that kept him pinned without much effort as Madara caught his mindlessly slapping hands against the ground over his head and bound them with what Tobirama suspected to be the blessed marriage rope that the court had provided them with.
It was an unwelcome reminder of what was at stake, and Tobirama closed his eyes, falling limp in defeat.
In truth, he could get out of the bindings, even out of Madara’s hold, if he gave it his all. But what would be the point? The hunt would end with Tobirama bound and his ass up in the air either way. Might as well get it over with.
If only Madara would comply with Tobirama’s internal resolve.
After weathering his brother’s daily nonsense for almost two decades, Tobirama’s patience was endless and deep as the sea, truly. But sometimes, even his calm reached its limit. It wasn’t as if he wanted to be here. He hadn’t asked to be hunted down like an animal, only to be taken by an almost stranger. As if getting taken off the roster for honeypot missions hadn’t been the single most relieving moment in his life . Despite it all, Tobirama had done his duty to the Senju and their liege, had participated in this farce of a hunt and was willing to see it through.
But he fucking drew the line at talking the Uchiha into doing his part. Tobirama felt his usually controlled chakra all but explode outwards in cold fury, pushing against the burning heat of Madara’s own barely contained chakra in an unspoken warning.
“Get on with it! Stick it in and be done. It isn’t that hard, you know?!”
There was something akin to a surprised pause, the flex in chakra barely noticeable beneath the seals on his sensing, then a huff. And suddenly, in a quick move that Tobirama couldn’t quite follow nor understand, he was hauled off the ground and pressed against a nearby tree, his bound hands securely caught on one of its branches before Madara stepped back, taking his warmth with him.
The Uchiha’s face remained unreadable for a moment, but then his expression bled into a mischievous smirk, letting him appear so much more playful than Tobirama would ever have expected from the usually brooding and shouty man.
“But there seems to be the problem, Sen- Tobirama.”
“Wha-” Tobirama’s annoyed yell was cut off as Madara unexpectedly dropped to his knees. The older man nestled his face briefly into the thin fabric covering Tobirama’s modesty before he parted the planes of fabric with nimble hands and instantly mouthed along Tobirama’s flaccid cock as soon as it was exposed to the cold air.
Madara flicked up his eyes to an increasingly bewildered Tobirama to send a teasing wink before he dropped his insufferably cocky smirk in favour of taking Tobirama’s soft dick into his mouth in full, surrounding him with a warm wetness that Tobirama had not expected to experience tonight or for the rest of his marital life, for that matter.
It only took a few experimental bobs of Madara’s head for Tobirama’s dick to become interested, filling out until the heat burning through his veins had nothing to do with the leftover adrenaline of the hunt anymore. Not when Madara hummed appreciatively around the now hard flesh on his tongue, startling a quiet moan out of Tobirama before he could get a grip on himself.
That the turn of events had impacted his self-restraint more than he’d liked to admit shouldn’t be an excuse to let go of it entirely. There was no getting his bearing, though.
Despite his best efforts, Tobirama could barely think past the sudden flash of arousal when Madara started to suck his dick in earnest, chasing the taste of pre-cum with vigour until Tobirama was left panting, straining against the broad hands pinning him against the tree. Only then did Madara let the tip of Tobirama’s erect cock pop out of his mouth with an obscene sound, smirking up at Tobirama from beneath his lashes.
Tobirama’s attention zeroed in on the spit coating Madara’s full lips. It made them shine in the moonlight, and Tobirama was overwhelmed by the impulsive need to kiss them. While this certainly wasn’t the most severe turn of events occurring this night, it surly was the most surprising. Or so he thought, until-
“How was I supposed to ‘stick it in’ when you weren’t hard yet?”