Why did it feel like loss?

I was here, wasn't I? In my cathedral, walking around the chambers and aisles that has become oh-so-familiar to me, so much so that I missed them during my time in hospital.

Even so, I had cried as if I had lost something.

Maybe, that something was Tobirama. I hadn't seen him since I had been shot.

I jerked, stopping in my tracks, grabbing my stomach as I groaned. The area of surgery, where they had removed my spleen that had caught the bullet, hurt less and less but sometimes, it was as if someone had shoved a knife into it and twisted. The doctors had told me more than once how lucky I had been. A small distance towards my head, and they would have gotten a major artery that would have entailed the certain death for me. Now, they had had time to resurrect and operate on me before I had died.

But at what cost?

Suddenly, the main doors to the cathedral opened. I jerked. Again? It didn't frighten me. On the contrary; the fact that I was certain the cathedral, that was temporarily closed down for visitors, for anyone but me and Izuna, had been invaded by someone else who should shoot me filled me with serenity. Take me, then. What the fuck have I got to lose?

But then, something else struck me. Someone had used a key to unlock the door. The only ones who had the key was Izuna, me, and..

"Tobirama."

He stood in the doorway so I could only see the contours of him. When he slowly stepped closer, I saw he held a bouquet of a hundred yellow roses. I realised it was the first time I saw him completely civil; khaki trousers, a white t-shirt that didn't cling to him but didn't leave much to the imagination, either, sunglasses on the top of his head... No bulletproof vest, no belt, no baton, no gun. Just him, and me, who was also civil.

I blushed as I realised he hadn't really seen me in civil clothes except for when he had roped me and fucked me. I hadn't really thought my clothes through; a grey knitted sweater, black jeans. I hadn't even styled my hair or put my rings on.

He walked up to me slowly after having closed the giant main doors after him. I could see he was frowning, that he was trembling. I felt tears burn my eyes when I realised it was because of me, because of his desire to be close to me.

"I thought you were dead", he said.

And that was when I noticed his face was full of tears.

He ran to me. I ran to him. We embraced and kissed with force. I had jumped up into his embrace and wrapped my legs around his waist without intending to. He had put his strong hands beneath my thighs to support me as I held one hand on either side of his face and kissed him.

"I'm sorry", I said. "I'm sorry", over and over.

He said something to me, too, which I thought was an apology, but I didn't hear as he was crying so much.

He laid me down on the cathedral floor, gently as if I were the most fragile egg, and I started tugging at my clothes. He calmed me down by putting his hands over mine, then went on to undress me slowly. When he saw my surgery scar, now without a bandage on but still with stitches, he took care to kiss all around it, so carefully it actually soothed the pain. I realised that this man had gone berserk and shot a man, killed someone for the first time, because that man had shot me first. The thought made me blush. My blush made Tobirama smile.

"What?" he asked.

I told him what. I told him exactly what was on my mind.

"Oh, Madara", he said.

He undressed me, but not himself. Instead, as I lay naked in front of him, he kissed my scar and down, down, until he breathed over my tip. Then, he opened his mouth and took it.

I groaned, closed my eyes and leaned my head back. What he was doing was such a submissive move for a man so dominant, I had no idea what to do with myself.

It got worse. Or better. Or way, way more unbearable, because as he mouth-fucked my dick, he also started fingering me, not to prepare me like last time but to actually elicit pleasure. My screams echoed over the entirety of the cathedral, into each little crack in the wall, and in that moment I didn't care if someone would hear me and then come shoot me because I would gladly die if that was what it took for me to experience this with him.

The transition between foreplay and fucking was so subtle, it was as if everything fell into place when he penetrated me. He leaned his face to my collarbone and moaned as he came into me, and I nuzzled the top of his head as he left bite marks over my neck, giving me a necklace of his love.

He thrusted softly. Then, he pulled out, causing me to frown in disappointment, but then he turned me around and started to do me from behind.

He thrusted like a madman and soon, he was murmuring nonsense. Then, I realised it wasn't nonsense at all, but words directed at the man who had shot me. It was warnings, but also detailed explanations of how his actions had made me feel, how believing he had lost me made him feel. It was enough to make me cry.

He kept murmuring, pulling my hair with one hand, clenching at my waist with the other until I came. This time, I didn't let him finish while fucking me. Instead, I turned over and took him into my mouth, deep-throating until I gagged, twirling my tongue. He lost what little control he had had over himself completely and soon, the warm, salty taste of him filled my mouth.

"You're not a deacon when you're with me", he said darkly as he tugged at my hair to force me to look up at him while I still had his cum in my mouth. "You're my luxury whore, aren't you?" I swallowed and nodded. "Madara?" he suddenly said and his dark, raspy voice, even more raspy now because he had screamed so much when he came, echoed through the cathedral. "I know you're going to choose God over me, and that is okay."

"I'm sorry", I said.

And what broke my heart wasn't that I confessed to him that I wasn't choosing him.

It was that I could see in his eyes that despite his words, he had still held hope that I would have chosen him over God.