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It was the first major arrangement since Konoha as a village was deemed finished. Oh, people were still trickling in, but the main facilities were done, and everything was running smoothly. So, it was time to throw a grand party. A five day festival. And, to celebrate their unity, it was decided that each clan would do a brief show, as a part of a cultural exchange of sorts. Or at least that was the excuse given. Madara suspected it was, on Hashirama’s part, an excuse to drink and gamble, and for some of the other clan heads, a way to show off some of their skills. That was certainly what he intended to use this opportunity to. The best and most skilled fire-dancers had been instructed to come up with the most flashy and ostentatious choreography yet. It might not be a competition, but the Uchiha were going to win.
~*~
Seated in the stands with his brother on one side, and Hikaku on the other, the rest of the clan surrounding them, Madara had a good view of the open space set aside for the various shows. So far in the evening, he was only mildly impressed.
The Nara had done a shadow-play that was leagues ahead of what any wandering showman could do, which made sense given their skills.
The Hyūga had done an elegant kabuki show. More interesting than Madara would have given them credit for before seeing it with his own eyes.
The Akimichi had done a war-dance, with stomps that shook the ground, and shouts that made the hair on the back of Madara’s neck rise. A trio of Akimichi women had sung, in a strange ululating pattern with no words. He was sure it would haunt his dreams.
The Inuzuka had an acrobatic performance that included their canine companions, with leaps and spins and a human pyramid. To showcase their playful nature perhaps?
But now it was time for the Senju. Madara tilted his head slightly in confusion as four Senju moved to stand equidistant from each other, while a single shirtless person moved to stand in the middle. Senju Tobirama. What was the clan heir doing performing? Because it was him, of that Madara was sure, despite the man’s face being covered with a blue oni mask. A bit on the nose perhaps? But the hair was a dead giveaway.
He waited along with every other spectator as hidden drums started up, a slow rhythm that reverberated through Madara’s bones. Slowly, painfully slow, Tobirama started to move, looking like he was performing kata. His body stretched, flexed, and twisted, moving sensually slow, displaying amazing control.
Then Madara noticed that the air around the Senju glittered like someone had sprinkled diamonds over him. Droplets of water reflecting the light from the torches that circled the showground. Sparkling, shimmering, mesmerizing. They were clearly multiplying. And then they started to move, all in the same direction, forming a ribbon of water that snaked around the Senju in the center, flickering, gliding, almost brushing against Tobirama’s skin as the ribbon pulsed in time with the drumbeat. Like the water was a living entity. An extension of Tobirama’s will.
As Madara watched, he realized that Tobirama had started to move faster. And so did the water, gaining both speed and mass. One ribbon split into two. Then three. Four. Five. Before suddenly dividing into hundreds of small ribbons flickering around Tobirama. Like threads of silver, spinning through the air, weaving between each other, over, under, around…
The four other Senju finally moved, forming hand-seals. They completed it as one, and lightning arched from their palms, into the ribbons, creating an amazing display of sparks and threads of light, dancing together with the Senju heir.
He looked otherworldly inside his cage of lightning and water. Like a demon. Or a divine being. The blue light had replaced the warm yellow of the torches, and Tobirama’s skin looked almost translucent, his red tattoos turning purple. And Madara couldn’t help but stare, transfixed. The way Tobirama moved, gliding around like water, body arching and bending, flexing rapidly from one pose to another, like he was lightning personified… His chakra flowing through the air around him like a whirlwind, controlling the water so precisely… Madara wanted. Like he had never wanted anyone before. Like it was burning into his soul, having been seared into his very being by the thin filaments of lightning that was all that separated him from Tobirama right now.
The way the Senju heir’s skin gleamed where droplets had attached themselves. The way the muscles underneath that skin stretched and contracted with each movement. The way his red eyes were narrowed in extreme concentration. The way each strand of hair flicked in concert with his motions. It was all burnt into Madara’s memory by a Sharingan he could not remember having activated.
With a final spin, Tobirama curled up, clenching his fists. The lightning stopped instantly, and all the water snapped together into one ribbon, wrapping almost sensually around him.
As the daze started to clear, Madara realized he was not the only one who was thirsty, willing to drink straight from Tobirama’s skin. Around the audience quite a few people were shifting awkwardly in their seats. Madara had more self-control. Well… A little more. Discreetly he deactivated his Sharingan as soon as Tobirama stepped away from the circle. He could sense more of his fellow clansmen doing the same. Beside him, Izuna made a little huh noise, drawing Madara’s attention to him. The wide-eyed look had Madara narrowing his eyes. Would Izuna try..? No, surely not? But, just in case his own brother would turn out to be competition, Madara shunshined out of there, to get to the Senju first.
He found him inside a tent set aside for the performers just as Tobirama pulled the oni mask off, confirming his identity. The pale Senju grabbed a towel and turned to face Madara while wiping droplets of water, or sweat, off his neck and chest. It drew Madara’s eyes to the red lines inked there, and he almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing.
Using every ounce of self-control he possessed, Madara wrenched his eyes from that tempting sight, to look Tobirama in the eyes. What he found there was enough to make him blush. A raised eyebrow and an amused expression. Oh! Tobirama had known exactly what kind of effect he had on Madara. And he had no mercy, tossing the towel over one shoulder and hooking his thumb into the waist of his pants, the weight of his hand pulling the fabric far enough down to reveal the edge of those pale curls that… Madara wrenched his eyes back up. Tobirama was smirking now.
“Like what you saw?”
A shiver ran down Madara’s spine. He was certain that Tobirama’s voice was not that deep usually. No, he sounded… Seductive.
Tossing caution to the wind, Madara took a few quick steps, covering the ground that separated them. Then he wrapped one hand around Tobirama’s neck, digging his fingers into the pale locks, getting a good grip. A grip he used to hold Tobirama’s head in place while he leaned forward to plunder those smirking lips.
He felt an arm snake around his waist, and then Tobirama jerked him right up against his chest, returning the kiss with equal fervor. Madara forgot where they were, his whole world narrowing to the man in his arms.
That was until a surprised squeak, and a horrified “Aniki?!” made him jerk back and twist his head to glare at Izuna. For all of two seconds. Then Tobirama placed two fingers against Madara’s cheek, turning his head back. “Bed?”
Madara blinked. Twice. Then he gave a small nod. Tobirama’s expression looked almost evil as he turned to Izuna, telling the younger man “Bye.”
The world spun around Madara. Then he fell. Landing on a futon. And Tobirama landed almost on top of him, still bare-chested, and smirking like a cat that had not only stolen the cream, but had plans to enjoy it to the fullest.
The Senju may have won the competition for the best show, but right now Madara felt like he had won something far more important. Now all he had to do was impress Tobirama enough that the Senju would stick around.
Madara pulled him close for a deep kiss, swallowing the pleased hum. They had the whole night, and he intended to make the most of it. To leave Tobirama utterly wrecked by the end of it. To leave him addicted to Madara. Entirely captured. The way Madara was captured by Tobirama.