Hashirama, you never told me that your brother's a natural at sucking cock," Madara says indolently.
A hot flush washes through Tobirama at the words. It's — shame. It's shame and nothing else. He doesn't want Anija to witness this latest humiliation, doesn't want Anija to see that he's been reduced to Madara's whore in the space of — how long has it been? Tobirama no longer knows.
There's a sharp tug at his hair, sending sparks down Tobirama's spine, pain and pleasure he can't separate. "Wife," Madara says chidingly. "We have a guest; best to make sure we give a good show, hmm?"
Obedience is deeply ingrained into Tobirama by now, so he applies himself to his task with renewed vigor, bobbing his head up and down Madara's shaft and making sure to lave his tongue along the spots where his husband is most sensitive as he goes. But he shuts his eyes while doing it — never mind that avoiding eye contact will displease Madara. Tobirama can tolerate whatever punishment he metes out later; Tobirama cannot tolerate the revulsion that must be on Hashirama's face. Seeing his only brother openly disgusted by the lows to which Tobirama has fallen will break him.
There's a sharp intake of breath from Hashirama — but he says nothing. Tobirama doesn't know what that means. For an endless chasm there's nothing but the lewd, slick sounds of his throat closing around cock. Then Madara starts thrusting , bullying his dick even further down, and with his hands tied behind his back, Tobirama can do nothing to stop him.
Tears begin to collect at the corners of his eyes, and Tobirama desperately tries to blink them away. He can take this. He's taken much worse, spent so long under that red sky with his throat getting savaged —
And now he's sobbing, thrown back into that old terror as Madara grabs him by the hair and forces his fat cock as far down Tobirama's throat as it can go. Come floods his mouth, and he's choking, gagging on it, but Madara won't let him up for air —
"Madara, please!" Hashirama cries out.
Mercifully, Madara lets him go, and Tobirama falls to the floor, coughing and heaving for air.
"Tobirama doesn't deserve this." Hashirama says quietly in the aftermath.
Madara gathers Tobirama into his arms, and brushes the strands away from his sweaty forehead. "He doesn't," Madara agrees, voice amiable and all the more dangerous for it. " You , however… you deserve this, and everything else that's coming to you."
There's hands on his face. "Love, look at me," Madara croons, and Tobirama opens his eyes for his husband. The Sharingan greets him, tomoe spinning lazily in circles, and he nearly cringes away at the sight, but Madara cups his cheek to keep him in place.
No genjutsu. For now.
"Thank you, love. Now look at our esteemed Hokage."
There's come on his face. He is covered in tears, saliva, and semen — but Madara's expression brooks no argument. Slowly, unwillingly, he turns to Hashirama. His Anija looks wild, eyes wide and frenzied, hair in disarray — but most terribly of all, he's hard . Hashirama's hakama is tented, and he is looking everywhere but at Tobirama.
"You're hard," Madara continues mercilessly, lips turned up in a cruel facsimile of a smile. "Your brother was bound at my feet, sucking my cock like the beautiful whore that he is, and you sat here, watched, and got hard ."
Hashirama swallows, and shifts in his seat, but doesn't deny it.
"Don't talk to me about what Tobirama deserves. You've never given him his due, and instead of finding someone to love him, to raise children with him, you gave him to me ." A finger swipes through the mess on Tobirama's face, and Madara presents it to him; by now Tobirama understands that he is to clean his husband's fingers. He sucks the digit into his mouth, collects the fluids with his tongue, and Madara smiles when he swallows.
"He loved you, followed you, trusted you, and this is how you repaid him. Do you not deserve to witness the fruits of your failure?"
"I should kill you," Hashirama growls, fists clenched around the fabric of his hakama so tightly that his knuckles have turned white.
"No, you won't," Madara says easily. He rearranges Tobirama in his lap, back to that broad chest, Tobirama's face tucked into his shoulder, and Madara's hands are caressing every inch of his body. The touch is electrifying, and Tobirama keens , suddenly aware that he's hard and dripping, and that he needs to come now . Madara continues, his voice a silken purr in Tobirama's ear: "If you do, then Tobirama would have suffered for nothing."
Hashirama flinches. There's a voice in the back of Tobirama's head that tells him to speak up, to reassure Anija, tell him that Tobirama is doing his best to keep his dream of peace alive. But it's buried deep down beneath the numbness that's blanketing his brain.
It's better this way. Tobirama can give himself over to the pleasure of Madara's touch. Worrying over Hashirama can wait until tomorrow.
Madara starts slow, spreading the moisture beading at the tip of Tobirama's pink cock down the rest of his shaft. Hashirama tracks the motion with his eyes, the flush on his face getting darker and darker — though whether it's from rage or arousal, Tobirama can't say. He doesn't care anymore, anyway; he's been reduced to a panting, shivering mess, canting his hips into Madara's fist, mindlessly chasing his pleasure.
"Does that feel good, wife?" Madara croons. "Tell your Anija what it feels like."
"A-anija?" He gasps. No, no, that's not — Tobirama shakes his head wildly. "I can't —"
"Yes, you can," his husband coaxes. "It's easy; say, 'Anija, it feels good.'"
There's a slick twist to Madara's strokes, and the pleasure renders Tobirama compliant. "A-anija. It feels — it feels good," he pants, and Madara rewards him with a soft kiss at the nape of his neck.
"Lovely," Madara says, and something inside Tobirama melts at the praise. "Now look at him and ask your Anija for permission to come."
Tobirama's eyes snap open — when had he closed them? — and there's too much emotion in Hashirama's eyes. He tries to turn away, but Madara's other hand comes up to grab his cheeks and pull him to face Hashirama again.
"Look him in the eyes when you beg him to come."
"It's okay, Tobira —"
"Beg him," Madara growls. His chakra flares around Tobirama, mean and menacing, and Tobirama breaks.
"Anija. Please," he whimpers. "May I come?"
Hashirama looks anguished, and he can't take his eyes away from Tobirama — but he doesn't say anything. "Pleasepleaseplease," Tobirama begs, mindless with the pleasure thrumming through his body. "Let me come, please, I've been good, did what you wanted, Anija, please —"
He sees the moment Anija's heart breaks. "Okay, Tobi," he chokes out, despair strangling his voice. "Go ahead — you can come."
Then Tobirama's vision whites out as his pleasure crests, Madara wringing out every drop of spend out of his cock.