Hashirama was an expert in the art of balancing domination and caretaking.

As soon as I slumped down on his mattress, wet of our sweat and tears and blood and cum and love, he softened. He lay down next to me and put his arms around me, kissing the top of my head over and over.

"There we go, pet", he praised. "You've been good. So good. Thank you. Thank you so much. I love you."

I squealed pathetically at his praise and thanks and hid my face. He tried to make me look at him, and laughed when I refused.

In that moment, I did not long for cocaine. And it was the first time I felt that way since I stopped, making me believe that maybe, just maybe. with Hashirama's help, I could do this.

"I shall make us some tea", Hashirama said. "It's late, so chamomile tea might be good."

He lifted me up into his embrace and carried me to the kitchen while I still hid my face, now in his chest. He gently placed me down on a chair and went about making tea. He added some biscuits and cheeses and jams I had taken to having in his fridge on a tray and brought it to the living room alongside the tea.

"What movie do you want to watch with me? Titanic or Planet Earth?"

"Titanic", I said shyly as he came and took my hand and took me to the couch, where he sat me down so I could have my legs over his as we watched the film and had our evening snack, and he continued taking care of me as part of our session.

"Madara?" he asked.

"Mmm?"

"Would you move in with me?"

I stopped chewing the salty cracker with Brie and fig jam. The cosy scent of chamomile filled my lungs, caught me in a lavender haze I loved being stuck in.

I could be stuck in it forever with this man.

And I gladly would.

"I mean..." he continued, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he displayed some of his usual mild insecurity as he scratched his head and looked apologetically around him. "My place is not of the standard you're used to. But I do have two bedrooms with a bathroom each. And we could change it up a bit to be to your taste."

The thought of Hashirama believing his apartment was not to my taste made my heart hurt. I almost started crying. I looked around me, at the apartment that was nowhere in the same league as mine, but with its old polished oak floors, its freshly painted white walls, all the plats, the souvenirs, the bookshelves, the cushions...

"This is home", I said. "Not just this..." I flailed my arms around me. Then, I put my hand to his heart. "But this as well."

"Madara..."

"What do we need two bedrooms for? We only need the one."

"There is..." Hashirama swallowed. "You know you had your secret with the cocaine?" I nodded. "Well, there is something I need to tell you at some point as well. Nothing life-changing for us!" he added quickly, which I was grateful for as it prevented any anxiety from bubbling up. "But it would be good to ease my heart."

"Whenever you're ready", I whispered.

He kissed me, and we made love again, this time slowly, affectionately, until both of us came sighing into the other's mouth, feeding the other's soul.

I got to work with my own fucking life.

First of all, I ended all my modelling contracts, and got the finishing photo shoots I owed the different agencies and companies before I broke it off with them done.

When I was free, I started searching. I was yearning to study, to become something. Hashirama showed great interest every day he came home from work.

"What about languages?" he asked while leaning his arms on the top of my head as he stood behind me, looking over my head on the computer screen I had brought with me together with only two boxes of belongings from my apartment before I sold it.

I blushed.

"Except for English, I know Russian and Italian and I'm learning Mandarin. I don't think I want to study any more languages for a degree. I want to have a job where I can use my skills."

I could see Hashirama's reflection in the computer screen.

"How do you know so many languages?"

I shrugged and blushed. 

"I just... did it on the side, I guess."

"How could you do this, you were so busy?"

"I had a lot airborne time and did a lot of cocaine", I joked.

Hashirama kissed my cheek.

"I'm proud of you. Both for your language skills but also for doing all of this without cocaine."

"All of what?"

Hashirama, who had turned to leave, then turned back to me.

"You had worked yourself half to death. You were malnourished. You were an addict. Now, you're healthy, you're looking for a career, and..." He looked to the side and blushed. The contrast between this man and the one who had fucked me bloody turned me on no end. "And you're living with a man who loves you."

It struck me that I had never said I loved him back. So I pushed the chair back, stood up and went to him, put my arms around his neck.

"I love you, too."

I offered my neck to him.

He bit it until it bled.

One of my favourite dinners to make for when Hashirama came home from work was a simple pasta salad. I would place the different components in bowls on the kitchen table, then place two bowls in front of us so that we would mix our own salads. Today, I decided to make a Greek style one and chopped salad, tomatoes, cucumber and bell pepper and put in different bowls as a base, and I also added bowls of olives, beans and feta cheese and a self-made vinaigrette.

But when Hashirama came home, he didn't sit down for dinner while thanking me profusely as he usually did. Instead, he came to me and grabbed my shoulders. He had a little love bite on his neck from last night's play, and I blushed a little at the thought of his patients seeing it. Before I remembered he was a trauma surgeon and his patients were almost dead.

"I have had an idea", he said.

"About what?" I asked.

"I know it's your life, and you should study to become whatever you want. But today, I met a Russian patient and had to book a telephone interpreter. And I thought, if only Madara were here, this would be much easier."

I frowned.

"But an interpreter sounds boring", I said. "And since I already know the languages and don't plan on learning more just yet, it's not much studying required, and I'm aching to study."

Hashirama looked at me with a sneaky smirk. Hashirama never looked at me with a sneaky smirk. Whatever idea he had had, it must be good.

"I know. But what if you were the profession?"

It took me a while to understand what he had said. But then, I shook my head.

"I'm not going to study to become a doctor. My grades are good, but not excellent. And I thought three years of studying. Not five or six."

"Not a doctor", Hashirama said and leaned forwards, placed his lips on my ear. "But a nurse."

When he said that, I felt something in me start to stir. As if my heart had been still, but that little word had made its cogwheels start spinning, and then, something clicked into place.

"Yes..."

"You're smart, you're kind, you're patient. And with your excellent language skills, many doctors would be very happy to have you on board."

A nurse... I can become a nurse. Gain medical knowledge and help people. Actually do something good.

I threw myself at Hashirama and squealed in happiness.

"I'll apply for this autumn", I said. "And..." I looked to the side.

"And what?" Hashirama asked.

"Can I be your boyfriend?"

The air went out of him. Then, he lifted my hand to his mouth, trembling, weakened by my question, and kissed it.

"That would be my honour and pleasure", I said.

 loved studying to become a nurse.

I did most of the lectures on distance, wanting to avoid my famous ass being seen out. For the practical parts, I had to be on site, but everyone were super respectful. 

Actually, the modelling world seemed to have lost interest in me, as had the paparazzi. I was prepared to feel some level of sadness over the fact that they could drop me so quickly after so many years of my life, but I didn't. Where the anxiety had once been, I felt only relief.

My longing after cocaine faded away like the pain when you had unwillingly lost a lover. It was there, in the back of my head, but it didn't control me anymore. For each day, my fear of a relapse grew smaller, until I found myself having gone days without worrying about it. Hashirama, my boyfriend, was an incredible support system. We were so, so happy together.

One day, I would have my placement in the ward where Hashirama worked, to learn how to take care of trauma patients. I didn't tell him, wanting to surprise him. I would never forget the look on his face when he saw me in nursing scrubs.

It was him, me and two other nursing students, and I saw how hard he worked not to let it show the he knew me. But more than once, I saw him look at me with famine in his eyes that I could just hope the others did not notice.

Then, when I was sitting down having lunch with my two classmates, Hashirama seemed to have had enough. He came up to us and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, Mr Uchiha? A moment, please, if you'll follow me."

He led me in front of him with a hand on my shoulder, and I could hear his heavy breathing behind me. I was trembling in anticipation as he led me through the corridors.

Then, in one that was completely empty, he suddenly pushed me to the side into a bathroom that I hadn't even noticed was there. He locked us into a stall, and I could only pray we were alone as he bent me over, pulled mine and then his trousers down, put a hand over my mouth and pushed himself into me.

He fucked me bloody, and it didn't take him twelve seconds to come inside me, his seed and my blood mixing on my thigh to create pink.

He leaned forwards to whisper in my ear.

"I get off early today. I have an idea. I will stop on the way home to get you a little something. When you come home, you will wear it without protest and play the part." He squeezed my cheeks threateningly but lovingly, squeezing my face. "Understood?"

I nodded, and he released me and left me like that, leaking and dripping and yearning to come,  a pleasure he had deprived me on purpose.

I couldn't focus for the rest of the day, wondering what my boyfriend was up to. In the Uber home (I didn't take the bus out of fear of being recognised), I jumped my leg in my desire for it to go faster. When I was going to unlock the front door, I failed several times before I managed to get the key in the hole.

Wow, Madara, good thing you don't top.

When I came in, the atmosphere of the apartment hit me like a train, something other than the weather and the scent of chamomile. I saw Hashirama's shoes and coat in the hallway; he was already home. 

"H?"

It felt right calling him that tonight. 

"I'm here", came his dark reply from the living room.

I took a deep breath and fixed my hair a little before going into the room. He was sitting on the couch, and I recognised the trousers and unbuttoned shirt he used to have when we cammed. On the table in front of him was a parcel wrapped in light pink tissue paper.

"For you" he said, looking at me sternly. "Open it." I went to it and started tumbling with the parcel, nervous as I was. "Careful!"

I swallowed and slowed down, and when I finally managed to the present out, I gasped and blushed.

"Hashi..."

"You like it?"

He suddenly sounded concerned. I looked at him, and his harsh, domineering self had softened a bit to let his true self, or other self, through.

I looked back at what he had gotten me. The fabric. The seams. The quality.

"I love it."

"Good. Now, go get changed."

I went to our bathroom to put on what he had gotten me, blushing all the while.

Because Hashirama Senju had gotten me a female nursing outfit made of the most beautiful silk.