the one

Since that day, Madara had moved back into his room.

Tobirama hadn’t agreed to it. He hadn’t even been asked.

It simply happened.

One day, the empty space beside him in bed was no longer empty.

One night, when the air should have been cold, he found himself burning under the weight of another’s presence.

Madara never left his side after that.

Every morning, when Tobirama woke, the first thing he saw was Madara watching him, eyes dark with something unreadable.

Every night, when he tried to retreat into sleep, the steady, unwavering rhythm of another’s breath reminded him that he was no longer alone.

During the day, the Alpha followed him.

He prepared breakfast. He packed his lunch, making sure Tobirama carried it with him. He waited outside the office until Tobirama’s shift ended, standing like an immovable shadow.

And if he ever tried to avoid him—if he stayed too late at work, lingered too long in empty hallways, took unnecessary detours through the village—

Madara would find him. He always did.

At first, Tobirama resisted.

He refused the food, ignored the gestures, tried to turn away when Madara reached for him.

But Madara had always been relentless.

“Tobirama,” the Alpha said, voice low, even. “Listen to me.”

Tobirama didn’t look at him.

The smell of warm rice porridge lingered in the air between them, thick and suffocating. Madara scooped a spoonful, brought it to his lips, blew on it gently before lifting it toward Tobirama.

The silver spoon hovered there, waiting.

Tobirama sat still, his hands curling into the fabric of his robe.

His heart pounded.

Not from fear.

Not from anger.

But from something far more hollowing.

Defeat.

Slow. Inevitable.

He should turn away.

Should refuse.

Should tell Madara—again, for what must have been the hundredth time—that he didn’t need this, didn’t want this.

But the weight of the Alpha’s presence bore down on him, heavy as the hand that rested against his thigh.

Madara had been patient. He always was, when he knew he would win.

Tobirama’s breath shuddered through him.

His lips parted.

And just like that, the last piece of his resistance crumbled.

Warmth filled his mouth.

Not just from the food.

But from the slow, sinking realization that no matter how much he fought, no matter how much he struggled—

Madara was never going to let him go.

At night, Madara always held him.

Always.

There was no escape from it.

Even when Tobirama’s body was stiff with exhaustion, even when his mind screamed for distance, the Alpha’s arm would wind around his waist, drawing him back against the warmth of a body he did not want to feel.

Madara was impossibly gentle.

It was almost cruel, how soft he could be.

A hand, warm and deliberate, smoothed over the swell of Tobirama’s stomach, slow enough that Tobirama could feel every line of his palm, every shift of his fingers.

Madara exhaled against his nape.

“Be good for your mother, alright?” His voice was deep. “Don’t make him suffer too much.”

He rubbed slow, soothing circles against Tobirama’s belly, pressing a kiss to the curve of his neck.

The child settled.

Just like that.

No more sharp kicks, no more restless stirring.

Tobirama could feel it—how the tension in his own body ebbed away with it, how his stomach no longer clenched painfully, how the ache in his bones dulled into something bearable.

The child responded to him.

To Madara.

As if it already understood where it belonged.

Tobirama swallowed hard.

He hated it.

Hated the way Madara’s voice wrapped around him like silk, how it pulled him under, lulled him into stillness.

He hated the way his body responded—how, even now, fresh from the lingering taste of a kiss he hadn’t asked for, he could only lay there and let it happen.

His breath shuddered out of him.

Madara hummed against his skin, satisfied, stroking his hand over Tobirama’s belly as though the child were already his, already within his grasp.

“You hear that, little one?” The Alpha whispered. “Your father’s here.”

The child didn’t stir.

Tobirama closed his eyes.

It was unbearable.

The way Madara held him. The way his voice turned soft. The way his warmth seeped into Tobirama’s skin.

It was unbearable.

And yet—

There was nowhere left to run.

The child only needed to be near Madara to be soothed.

It was infuriating.

No matter how restless it was throughout the day, how it pushed and twisted inside him, how it drained him to the point of exhaustion, the moment Madara touched him, it settled.

In the mornings, Madara would kiss him. At night, too, before they slept. A hand large and warm would smooth over the swell of Tobirama’s stomach, and just like that, the child would quiet, would become still, obedient.

Tobirama hated it.

Hated the way his body betrayed him—hated that his exhaustion made him weak, that his own flesh had become a prison. Hated that the child seemed to belong more to Madara than to him.

Hated that, for all the pain it put him through, all it took was a touch from the Alpha to make it behave.

If it loved Madara so much, why not tear itself from his body and go to him? Why not leave him behind entirely?

Why force him to suffer?

Madara’s hand was warm against his stomach. He stroked the curve of it absently, as if he had all the time in the world.

“What is it?” His voice was low, almost indulgent. “Are you sulking?”

He leaned in before Tobirama could recoil, pressing hot, wet kisses along his throat, teeth scraping lightly against sensitive skin. Tobirama shuddered, exhaling a broken noise before biting it back, jaw tightening in frustration.

Tobirama wanted to push him away.

But his arms remained limp at his sides, trembling from the force of his own resistance.

His body had already surrendered to the heat of Madara’s mouth, the deliberate scrape of his teeth, the slow, devastating glide of his tongue.

He hated this, too.

Hated that Madara could play his body like a finely tuned instrument, could tease out reactions Tobirama wanted no part of.

Hated the way his breath hitched, how the tight ache in his body unwound at the press of lips against his skin.

Madara’s arms curled around him from behind, broad hands sliding along his sides as he tilted Tobirama’s chin upward.

The kiss was nothing gentle.

Madara kissed like he meant to devour, lips harsh, demanding, swallowing the sounds Tobirama didn’t mean to make.

Tobirama had already gone weak from the earlier kiss, already had his resistance stripped from him. Now, when Madara deepened the kiss—when he pried Tobirama’s lips apart and let his tongue sweep inside, taking everything—there was no strength left in him to fight back.

It was humiliating, the way he let himself be kissed like this.

His lips felt swollen when Madara finally pulled away, breath warm against his skin.

Tobirama tried to look away, but Madara didn’t let him. A finger, firm yet unhurried, traced the outline of his jaw, forcing his gaze back to meet the Alpha’s.

For a long moment, Madara simply studied him.

“You always go so quiet when I kiss you,” Madara murmured against his lips, voice husky with amusement. His thumb traced lazy circles against Tobirama’s jawline before he moved lower, dragging his lips over the pale skin of his throat, pressing wet, burning kisses along the sharp line of his collarbone.

Then he kissed him again, slower this time. Less about control, more about possession.

They kissed every night like this.

Always.

Madara would press him into the mattress, take his lips with the same slow, unyielding patience, and then—

Nothing.

They never went further than this.

Never touched, never claimed.

Just endless, suffocating kisses, before Madara would pull back, satisfied, and go to sleep beside him.

And the child—

The child was content.

With Madara’s warmth pressed against his back, the child in his belly sleeping soundly for the first time all day, Tobirama let his eyes slip shut.

Ever since that near miscarriage, Tobirama had been forced to reduce his workload.

His responsibilities had been reassigned—placed in Madara’s hands.

“The proposal for the Nara clan,” Tobirama murmured, his brush gliding swiftly over the scroll. “We need input from the Akimichi and Yamanaka before finalizing anything.”

And yet, even now, even as he sat at his desk, working through the remnants of what he was still allowed to handle, he could feel Madara looming behind him.

“Hm,” Madara hummed.

It was a noncommittal sound, one that sent irritation prickling up Tobirama’s spine.

He exhaled sharply, trying to focus. The meeting this morning had left him on edge, the child had been restless all day, and now—now he had to contend with the heat of an Alpha standing entirely too close behind him.

Tobirama dipped his brush into the ink, willing himself to ignore it.

The warmth of Madara’s breath ghosted against the back of his neck.

He stiffened.

“You’re not listening,” Tobirama snapped, his patience fraying. He turned slightly, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been staring at me this whole time.”

Madara only laughed—low, indulgent.

“But I am listening,” the Alpha murmured, voice dropping into something smoother, something richer.

Tobirama didn’t have time to react before he felt the shift of weight behind him—Madara leaning in closer, broad and imposing, his entire body radiating heat.

Madara’s lips grazed his ear, his breath curling over the sensitive skin of Tobirama’s throat.

“I just can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice a velvet whisper. “You’re too beautiful.”

Tobirama sucked in a breath.

The day had already been too much—his mind exhausted, his body aching from the weight of the child that would not stay still. The moment Madara pressed a kiss against the column of his throat, his body shuddered, his muscles slackening against his will.

“Madara—”

Another kiss.

This one slower, lingering.

The brush slipped from Tobirama’s fingers, rolling across the scroll, leaving a dark, inky smudge in its wake.

Tobirama clenched his jaw, willing himself to fight against the warmth pooling in his stomach.

“Stop playing around.”

Tobirama exhaled sharply, snapping out of his daze, his hand pressing against the Alpha’s face in an attempt to push him away.

But Madara didn’t relent.

Instead, he tilted his head, parting his lips, and—

A slow, deliberate drag of his tongue along Tobirama’s palm.

Tobirama’s breath hitched. His fingers twitched, instinctively curling back, but Madara caught them before he could pull away. He traced the lines of Tobirama’s palm, warm breath following the path his tongue left behind.

Dark eyes flickered up, locking onto Tobirama’s own.

“Let me kiss you.”

Before Tobirama could snap at him, Madara had already reached for his chair, turning it with ease. In a single, fluid motion, the Alpha settled himself between Tobirama’s legs, his presence overwhelming, suffocating, all-consuming.

Tobirama growled, jaw tightening as he attempted to shove Madara away again.

“I already let you kiss me this morning,” he hissed. “Enough.”

Madara hummed. One large, calloused hand slid down—pressing over the curve of his stomach, rubbing slow circles over the taut skin.

“But both you and our pup are tense, aren’t you?”

His voice was smooth, laced with something indulgent, something coaxing.

His other hand had found its way to Tobirama’s wrist, guiding it gently, pressing it against his cheek as if Tobirama had touched him first. As if he were inviting Tobirama to hold him, to soothe him.

Tobirama hated how practiced it felt.

How easy it was for Madara to slip into these roles—controlling, teasing, disarming.

The child inside him stirred restlessly.

“I have a meeting soon,” Tobirama muttered, his voice edged with frustration.

Madara chuckled, the deep sound reverberating between them.

“Then I’ll be quick.”

The tip of his nose brushed against Tobirama’s wrist, a light, fleeting touch—one that felt far too intimate for what it was.

“You’ll feel better after, won’t you?”

Tobirama scowled, but the Alpha pressed on, his words warm and persuasive.

“If you keep resisting, you’ll only make yourself more exhausted. Just let me do this.”

His voice dropped lower.

“Let me take care of you.”

Tobirama exhaled through his nose, his grip on the arms of the chair tightening.

The baby kicked.

Tobirama cursed under his breath.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But be quick about it.”

Madara smiled. The Alpha moved with unshakable ease, his strength effortless as he lifted Tobirama off the chair.

A startled gasp escaped Tobirama’s lips.

“What are you doing?!” His hands instinctively clutched at Madara’s shoulders, but the Alpha didn’t even flinch at the resistance.

“Kissing you,” Madara answered.

Tobirama barely had time to protest before his back met the surface of the desk. Scrolls crinkled beneath him, pushed aside and forgotten as Madara leaned down, his presence looming.

And then—

A kiss, deep and consuming.

Madara’s tongue invaded his mouth without hesitation, curling against his own, coaxing, demanding, claiming. The force of it stole the breath from Tobirama’s lungs, a muffled whimper breaking between them.

“Mm—ah—”

The sounds escaped against his will, swallowed whole by Madara’s relentless kiss.

He could barely process what was happening—one moment, he had been resisting, the next, he was melting, pinned beneath Madara’s weight, his body trembling under the overwhelming pressure.

Tobirama’s hands found their way to the Alpha’s broad shoulders, pushing weakly, but it was useless. The more he resisted, the more forceful Madara became, his lips bruising, his teeth scraping, his tongue delving deeper, devouring every shuddering breath Tobirama tried to take.

He could feel the heat pooling in his stomach, spreading through his veins like wildfire.

Madara’s hands weren’t still either. He could feel the heat of Madara’s touch seeping through his clothes, making his skin burn where the Alpha’s hands roamed.

Then—

A warm, firm hand slid downward.

Madara’s palm found Tobirama’s belly, resting there with the kind of deliberate care that made the air catch in Tobirama’s throat.

The touch wasn’t urgent. It wasn’t rough. It was slow—his fingers spreading slightly, pressing just enough to remind Tobirama of the life growing inside him.

Tobirama gasped into the kiss. The sensation sent a tremor up his spine, his whole body tightening.

“Haa—” A breathless, involuntary sound slipped from his lips. Madara swallowed it eagerly, deepening the kiss, his other hand rising to cup the back of Tobirama’s neck, tilting his head. His fingertips traced slow, lazy circles over the curve of Tobirama’s stomach, rubbing warmth into the skin, making Tobirama’s knees weaken.

He wanted to pull away. He wanted to snarl, to shove Madara’s hand off him, to reclaim his own body—

But the baby stilled.

For the first time all morning, the restless movements in his belly quieted, as if soothed by the touch of its father.

Madara must have noticed. His lips curled into a smile against Tobirama’s mouth.

“See?” Madara murmured, his thumb brushing over Tobirama’s navel in slow, lazy circles. “Even our pup behaves when I’m here.”

Madara’s hands continued roaming, sliding down Tobirama’s sides, slow and deliberate, fingertips pressing into sensitive skin as if mapping out every inch of him. And then—

A squeeze.

Madara’s hands gripped his hips, firm and possessive, before trailing lower.

Tobirama stiffened.

A shuddering whimper left his throat as rough palms cupped the soft flesh of his ass, kneading with unrestrained hunger. His body betrayed him, instinctively arching into the touch, his thighs twitching as heat gathered in his lower belly.

Madara growled in satisfaction against his lips.

By the time the kiss ended, Tobirama was left breathless—panting, dazed, his entire body trembling against the desk. His face burned, the heat creeping down his neck, his ears, even the tips of his fingers.

His legs refused to move.

The Alpha pressed closer, lowering his lips to Tobirama’s ear, letting the warmth of his breath tickle sensitive skin before whispering—

“Tobirama… you’re hard.”

A rough palm slid between his legs, cupping him through the fabric.

Tobirama’s body trembled, his breath uneven as he lay beneath Madara’s weight.

He didn’t know when his pants had disappeared.

Tobirama’s pale skin, kissed by the cold air, flushed in contrast to the burning heat that pooled deep within him. His thighs quivered as Madara spread them apart, pressing his calloused palms into the softness of his flesh, holding him open.

“You’re already so hard,” Madara murmured, voice low. The Alpha’s breath was hot against Tobirama’s skin, a whisper of warmth that sent an involuntary shudder through his body.

A deep, satisfied hum rumbled in Madara’s chest as he dipped his head, inhaling the scent that lingered between Tobirama’s thighs. He lingered there, lips hovering.

Then, with slow, deliberate cruelty, Madara let his tongue flick out, dragging a slick, wet line up the sensitive skin of Tobirama’s inner thigh.

The shiver that wracked Tobirama’s frame was immediate—uncontrollable.

“So sensitive,” Madara mused, amusement lacing his voice. He nipped at the same spot, teeth sinking just deep enough to mark. Tobirama gasped, legs twitching, but Madara only chuckled, dragging his tongue over the bite as if in apology.

One of his large hands found Tobirama’s cock, wrapping around it with slow, knowing precision. It pulsed against his palm, hot, leaking. “Look at you,” he murmured. “So hard for me already.”

Madara rubbed his thumb over the sensitive head, smearing the slick arousal that beaded there. He leaned down again, his breath ghosting over the length of Tobirama’s cock, teasing, savoring the anticipation that thickened the air between them. “Let me take care of you.”

A damp, feverish heat pooled between Tobirama’s thighs.

His breath hitched as he shifted slightly, trying to adjust to the oppressive warmth pressing against his skin. It wasn’t until he glanced downward—his view partially obstructed by the gentle swell of his stomach—that he saw the cause of it.

Madara positioned himself between Tobirama’s spread legs, mouth latched onto the tender weight of his balls, lips sealed around them with obscene devotion.

The sensation was unbearable.

Each slow suck sent a shiver crawling up Tobirama’s spine, tightening his chest with something dangerously close to shame.

Madara’s large hand wrapped firmly around Tobirama’s cock, stroking with slow, indulgent drags, coaxing him further into helpless need. His other palm pressed against Tobirama’s inner thigh, pushing, spreading, demanding more access to every vulnerable inch of him.

Tobirama sucked in a sharp breath as strong fingers wrenched his legs farther apart. A fresh wave of heat licked up his neck, leaving him dizzy, disoriented.

Madara pressed his face deeper into the damp heat between Tobirama’s legs. His nose brushed against the sensitive skin of Tobirama’s inner thigh before sliding higher, dragging along the slick, swollen flesh until he reached the source of that irresistible scent.

Tobirama barely had time to brace himself before Madara’s tongue darted out.

The first slow lick sent a violent tremor through him, his stomach tightening, his breath stuttering into something between a gasp and a quiet sob.

Each touch, each wet stroke of Madara’s tongue, sent shudders down Tobirama’s spine, leaving him lightheaded, lost in the heat pooling between his thighs. His muscles trembled, his chest rising and falling in desperate rhythm as the lingering traces of Madara’s mouth burned into his skin.

The slow, deliberate drag of Madara’s tongue traced a scorching path along his swollen balls, lapping up every bead of heat and arousal. Tobirama’s thighs tensed as a broken sound caught in his throat.

It was too much, but Madara wasn’t done with him.

A sharp inhale rattled in his lungs as Madara shifted, his mouth trailing upward, following the rigid length of Tobirama’s cock with languid, wet strokes. His tongue flicked over the sensitive veins, lapping up the slick sheen of arousal that dripped from the tip, savoring the taste.

“Aah… Madara… stop… don’t…” Tobirama gasped. His entire body burned, a feverish heat that spread beyond his core, leaving his skin damp and trembling. His back stuck to the table, his palms slick with sweat.

The Alpha ignored him.

Madara exhaled a deep, satisfied hum before taking him whole, lips sealing tightly around the flushed head before sinking down—slow, deliberate, unyielding. The slick heat of Madara’s mouth engulfed him entirely, pulling him deeper, deeper, until the thick tip of his cock pressed past the tight resistance of Madara’s throat.

Tobirama choked on a moan, hips twitching helplessly as a fresh wave of heat coiled in his stomach.

The sensation was unbearable.

Wet.

Scorching.

Suffocating.

Madara didn’t hesitate, didn’t give him room to breathe. His throat contracted around Tobirama’s length, swallowing him down in rhythmic, obscene motions.

The Alpha’s hands gripped him with merciless possession, fingers digging into the plush flesh of Tobirama’s ass. His hold was unbreakable, fingers pressing deep enough to leave bruises, his knuckles whitening with the force of his grasp. Thick veins bulged beneath the skin of his forearms, muscles straining as he pulled Tobirama forward, forcing him deeper into the relentless heat of his mouth.

A guttural, shuddering groan rumbled in Madara’s chest as he swallowed around him again, taking him impossibly deep. His breath came heavy, ragged, as if he, too, was lost in the feverish hunger that bound them together.

Tobirama’s legs trembled violently, his body teetering on the edge of something unbearable. His thighs clamped around Madara’s head, his muscles locking in a desperate attempt to anchor himself against the overwhelming flood of sensation. But the Alpha only growled in satisfaction, the deep, reverberating sound sending vibrations straight into Tobirama’s core as he sucked harder, more ravenous, more relentless.

A sharp gasp tore from Tobirama’s lips before he caught himself, biting down on his knuckles to stifle the sound. His chest heaved, his breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts. The risk of being heard gnawed at the edges of his mind, but it was impossible to think clearly when every inch of him was burning, shaking, unraveling under Madara’s relentless mouth.

His body betrayed him—his back arching, his legs trembling, his knees tightening around the Alpha’s head. The tension in his stomach coiled tighter, pressing against the weight of his swollen belly, making his breath stutter. His hands clenched uselessly at the edges of the table beneath him, seeking any kind of stability, but there was none.

Madara held him open, controlled him, devoured him.

The sharp, electric pleasure lanced through him, tinged with the faintest edge of pain—a scorching, aching heat that spread from the base of his spine and shot straight up to his skull, blinding, suffocating.

It was too much.

Tobirama’s body twisted against it, his toes curling, his fingers digging into his own skin as if to ground himself against the unbearable wave cresting inside him.

Madara didn’t stop.

He groaned against Tobirama’s sensitive flesh, his fingers gripping hard enough to bruise, his mouth still wrapped tight, drawing him in, swallowing him whole. Every slow, agonizing pull of Madara’s lips sent another jolt of overstimulation up Tobirama’s spine, his nerves frayed, his mind blanking out into sheer sensation.

Tobirama barely heard the soft, choked sound that escaped him, muffled against his own palm.

Every inch of him trembled, wrung dry, drowning in the unbearable warmth of Madara’s mouth and the ghost of his touch lingering deep in his bones.

Tobirama’s body convulsed as the final wave of pleasure crashed over him, leaving him breathless, undone. His thighs trembled violently, struggling to hold their grip around Madara’s head before going slack, his muscles giving out completely. His back arched off the table, spine aching, every nerve in his body alight with the unbearable force of his release.

A muffled, strangled gasp tore from Tobirama’s throat as he spilled into Madara’s mouth.

Tobirama’s hands flew up to smother the sound, to hold in the shattered remnants of his restraint. His cock pulsed helplessly, spilling over Madara’s tongue, and still—the Alpha didn’t pull away.

Madara swallowed him down to the root, taking everything, his throat contracting around the throbbing length still caught in his mouth.

Tobirama twitched at the overstimulation, his body caught in the trembling aftermath of pleasure. His cock ached, softening against the unrelenting warmth of Madara’s mouth before, finally, mercifully, the Alpha let him go. It slipped wetly from Madara’s lips, falling limp between his trembling thighs.

Tobirama’s body felt weightless, disconnected, floating somewhere between exhaustion and distant. His vision blurred, his mind sluggish, his limbs heavy and useless against the table.

Tobirama barely managed to pry his eyes open, the world around him hazy and slow. His breath came in uneven, shallow pulls, his chest rising and falling in unsteady rhythm. He couldn’t move. His body refused him, still caught in the lingering aftershocks of his climax.

Somewhere beyond the ringing in his ears, he heard the soft sound of Madara shifting, rising to his feet.

Madara stood above him, licking the taste of him from his lips.

Tobirama barely had the strength to react as a large hand wrapped around the nape of his neck, fingers pressing into the skin beneath his damp, silver hair.

A sudden pull—

And then Madara’s mouth was on his, swallowing whatever air he had left.

The kiss was deep, slow, unrelenting.

The taste of himself flooded his senses—thick, warm, lingering between their tongues. Tobirama shuddered, lightheaded, his hands twitching at his sides but unable to lift, unable to resist.

Madara’s lips parted from his with a final, slow drag, the Alpha’s breath still warm against his swollen lips. Tobirama barely had the energy to keep his eyes open, his lashes fluttering as the heavy weight of exhaustion dragged at his limbs.

“Stay here,” Madara murmured. “I‘ll handle the meeting.”

Tobirama barely registered the words before he was lifted into Madara’s arms, his exhausted body molding against the warmth of the Alpha’s chest. He let himself be carried, too tired to protest, too dazed to do anything but breathe.

The softness of the couch met his back as Madara laid him down, adjusting him with quiet care, tucking him into the cushions. Tobirama’s half-lidded eyes followed the Alpha’s movements in a dreamlike haze, watching as Madara straightened, rolling his shoulders before turning his attention back to him.

Madara didn’t leave immediately.

Instead, he knelt down, dragging a warm cloth over the mess between Tobirama’s thighs, wiping him clean.

Tobirama’s fingers twitched against the fabric of the couch, his body too heavy, too spent to react. He exhaled softly, his body sinking into the warmth surrounding him.

His abdomen tensed slightly, then stilled—no longer plagued by the restless stirring of the child within.

The baby, as if sensing the Alpha’s presence, quieted, soothed by the heavy blanket of Madara’s pheromones.

Tobirama’s hand instinctively rested over his abdomen, feeling the strange, rare stillness.

No more sharp kicks, no more uncomfortable pressure—just a deep, settling calm washing over him.

Tobirama’s eyelids grew heavy.

The lingering tension drained from his limbs, replaced by an overwhelming, boneless exhaustion. His muscles slackened, his mind drifting somewhere weightless, lost between consciousness and the lulling warmth of his own fatigue.

Madara noticed.

He shifted, reaching down to move Tobirama’s hand away from his stomach and place it carefully by his side. Then, with deliberate ease, he pulled a thin blanket over him, shielding Tobirama from the cool air.

Madara’s rough fingertips traced a slow path over Tobirama’s flushed cheek, lingering for just a moment.

“Sleep.” Madara’s voice was low, quiet.

Tobirama did not answer. A faint breath escaped his parted lips, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm slower, steadier.

His body had surrendered completely, drawn into a rare, fragile peace.

His lashes trembled, barely resisting the pull of sleep, before they stilled.

Then, with a final exhale, his eyes slipped shut completely.