Madara:

I sat next to Hashirama in the waiting room, holding his hand. In the madness of it all, I allowed myself to indulge in the fact that I was sitting next to this gorgeous man, holding his hand casually as if he were my boyfriend.

Was he?

I just wore some Adidas sweatpants and my favourite hoodie Izuna had gotten me ("It's purple and I bought an oversized one to make your feet look smaller!" that little bitch), and my hair was in a braid. I had no idea what Hashirama wore, of course, but he smelled of the aseptic he'd had to shower in last night and this morning.

A nurse opened the door.

"Hashirama Senju, please."

We stood up and entered.

I was allowed to be with him for all the preparations for his surgery. Hashirama didn't need me, mind; he seemed perfectly calm and collected. But I needed to be with him. This surgery made me so nervous, it felt as though I might throw up.

Before they were going to administer the anaesthetics, I had to go out.

"It will be a long surgery", a kind nurse said. "You might want to go home and rest.

"I'll stay!" I said, a bit too harshly as I did sometimes. "If I may, please", I added a bit more calmly, shame-faced.

The kind nurse smiled. "I understand."

I was in the waiting room of the ward for hours. The wait was agony. Sometimes, I broke down crying, sometimes I fidgeted with anything and everything. I tried listening to a podcast, but I didn't comprehend a thing. At some point, I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up curled into a ball, my coat a pillow, to smell something delicious beside me. I reached my hand out to find a glass of soft drink and a cheese sandwich besides me. I gratefully ate. That was a good quality I had; no matter how I felt or what was going on in my life I never lost my appetite.

At nine in the evening, after six hours, the nurse came out, smiling.

"Did you enjoy your sandwich?" she asked and handed me a small plate, explaining it contained a piece of home-baked carrot cake from the staff room.

"You are very kind", I said, taking it.

"Everything went well."

"They're done?!" I exclaimed.

"Yes."

"Oh, thank God!" I exclaimed and burst out crying. The nurse lay a hand on my shoulder.

"How is he?"

"Mad about you. He has asked about you from the moment he woke up."

My heart fluttered. "Can I see him?"

"He needs a little bit more time to wake up properly. So you have time to eat your cake."

I gladly did, my heart at peace but bursting with excitement to see him again.

Hashirama:

Had I been alone, I would have just calmly laid in my bed. And I believe my appearance was that of a calm, adult man who had accepted his faith and was now recovering from his surgery.

But I wasn't alone. Knowing Madara were just a short distance away, in the waiting room, having waited for me for all these hours, made my nerve endings tingle. I couldn't wait to see him.

I heard soft footsteps in the corridor and immediately recognised them as his. I could hear them increase in pace and it made my heart sing; he seemed to be eager to see me, too.

And then he turned the corner of my door, and came to a stop.

We stayed there for a while, me in my bed, him standing. He looked adorable in his sweatpants and his ruffled braid. He suddenly blushed and became shy.

"Hi", he said carefully.

"Hello there", I said warmly.

"What do I see?"

"Well... It's very white and clean. I'm in a bed, on my back, in a horrible gown. I swear to God you would wish you were blind if you could see me." He snorted. "I have a few needles connected to my arms. My hair is finally free. And I have dressers on my legs." I could see Madara's brows furrow as he built himself a picture. I took a deep breath. "And you also see a man in a hospital bed who's about to ask you if you would like to become his boyfriend."

Madara became dead silent, a shocked expression on his face. I could see him taking in what I had just said, the pieces clicking together.

He then took a few tentative steps, his winter boots echoing softly on the floor.

Then he literally ran to me and threw his arms around me, buried his head in my chest and wept.

And wept.

And wept.

It tool a few weeks for me to get home. I had given my key to Madara and I knew he was sleeping in my bed. It felt comforting in a sense. And arousing... God, I missed being alone with him.

A few weeks later, I was home, still wobbly on my feet but able to walk a little. We lay in bed, naked, warm underneath my heavy double duvet, lower bodies pressed together, erections throbbing against each other, desperate for release after weeks of longing, but upper bodies some distance away so that I could gaze at him, stroke his cheek, play with his hair. He had his eyes on mine, unseeing, his hand on my waist, stroking it. I hadn't made love with this man in so long... My breathing became heavy, hard to control.

"Hashirama", Madara whispered and out his fingers to my lips. "Take me."

And he pushed his two fingers into my mouth. I started working on them, deep-throating them so I almost gagged in that way that always caused my arousal to skyrocket.

Madara came in for a kiss but I pushed him back, continuing my row with his fingers, and he mewled unhappily, desperate for my lips. God, I loved the power I had over this man. I could feel him tremble, move closer, pressing his hips against mine. His erection against my skin, mine against his, but I still wasn't letting him kiss me.

"Hashi, please!" he cried and stared touching himself. He had a way with his hand that made me mental, holding himself with a loose grip and pushing semen out with every stroke until it lubed his entire hand. It was mesmerising and it took my entire willpower to harshly grab his hand and make him stop.

"Ahh!" he complained. I just rolled him over his back and pinned his throat down with my hand. It was so little underneath my big hand, his white skin a contrast to my tanned. I leaned forwards so my lips were an inch above his.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me..." I purred. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my lips, that were trembling in anticipation.

I went down, hand around his throat still so as to keep him from moving, and started kissing his stomach. It had a delicious softness to it, but it was firm underneath.

"I've missed you so fucking much", I whispered.

Madara just whimpered.

I placed a kiss on his left thigh.

"I'm going to make love to you."

A kiss on the shaved area just above his shaft.

A moan from him.

"I'm going to fuck you senseless."

A kiss on the inside of his thigh.

Semen poured from his tip like a fountain, he wanted me so badly.

"Are you ready?"

And Madara started screaming in desperation. He clenched the sheets, painted, sweat streaming down his face.

"Hashi, please!" he shouted again but so loudly this time I was sure the neighbours would hear.

I didn't care. I turned him over so he was on his hands and knees and shoved myself inside him harshly. Madara moaned to the heavens and started thrusting his hips back like a maniac. I grabbed his waist and moved with him, met him at his pace. I grabbed a handful of his long hair and pulled his head back, shoved two fingers into his mouth. He sucked them.

"You're so good to me, baby..." I murmured. Whatever this man did to me, it made me talk.

It made me talk like I'd never done before and I told him I loved him, that I would always love him wherever I went after this life, that I would watch over him, see him grow into an old man, always loving him.

And as we both came to each other and I turned him around, I could see he was crying.

"I don't want you to die", he whispered.

I licked his tears away, licked the agony away, away with his heart.

That morning, we woke up to me having a coughing fit.

There was blood on the entire sheet. Madara put his hand in it, and lifted it to his face.

"It's blood..." his voice trembled. "You're coughing this up, aren't you?"

And for the second time, I saw him have a full-blown panic attack.

That morning, I made my decision.