Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I.

It was almost shamefully pathetic how desperately Hashirama begged, only a few short leaps of judgment away from the pure desperation of kneeling before him; his voice was wavering, his eyes pleading. Madara felt his lip curl in disgust at such a paltry display that surely was so against Hashirama's Alpha nature. 

But then again, Hashirama often opted to act like a mere Beta. Why he'd ever lower himself to such levels, eluded Madara entirely. Yet he couldn't help but savor the moment of another strong, capable Alpha submitting to him in such manner —

"Please!" 

— Hashirama had said and it had sent a jolt of satisfaction down Madara's spine, making him feel drunk off of power. 

"Please, think about it, Madara!" 

How could he have not indulged in the thought then, if the other most powerful Alpha in this current world besides himself was begging him so prettily? It was so flattering to his Alpha ego, to his character as a strong shinobi that he did actually think about it — even if the serious consideration of the matter only lasted for a few minutes. 

Truthfully, he never planned to go through with it. Why should he give the Senju any chance at reconciliation at all? They had killed a majority of his close family, his father and many of his siblings; and killing pack was one of the most atrocious crimes that could be committed. It was something unforgivable. It didn’t matter then, that Madara had actually felt pleased that he could step up and take the position as lead Alpha of the Uchiha clan from his deceased father: that had been the only positive thing to come out of it. No matter how mirthful he could feel, the Senju were still at fault. 

Mangy, treacherous scum that they were. 

And while he did have a short lived, relatively close friendship with Senju Hashirama, it did little to persuade his mind to consider actual peace. It had been a long time ago, they were children with no serious thought for the world, set apart far from reality. And even back then, Madara had found Hashirama more amusing than anything else. He'd left those childish imaginations behind immediately after the parted ways in friendship a final time. 

And yet, he indulged. How far would Hashirama take it? How low would he go, to please Madara? To make this ridiculous idea of peace actually work? Fueled by this new feeling of power and the malicious joy of what could happen, he nodded. Slowly and meaningfully. 

“Fine.” He cocked his head to look down at Hashirama, “We will meet again for talks in three days time, at this exact location.”

The location: the battlefield, in which countless bodies laid. The dead from the gruesome fight that had taken place until a few short hours prior; to retrieve their deceased and to give them a proper burial pyre they’d need those three days. He didn’t think that anyone quite important died, his brother was alive as well as his close advisor Hikaku, but the families back at the settlement would want to properly grieve over their fallen. 

They would’ve certainly won this battle and decimated the Senju ranks, if Hashirama hadn’t pleaded for an armistice in the middle of their heated duel. It had rubbed him the wrong way at first, still so agitated and fired up by adrenaline and aggression, but the desperate tone had made him curious. 

This is what had come from it. Madara didn’t even wait for Hashirama to answer, he’d stated his terms and either the other Alpha would accept them or not. 

He turned and quickly made his way through the muddied, trampled earth: wet from water and blood, the stench of burned flesh hung thickly in the air. After he'd gained some distance, Hikaku hurried to his side as he retrieved his kiseru from underneath his armor — his Beta advisor looked fine, if not a little roughened up. 

“Round up the living, see that our wounded are properly treated and ready to travel. Count how many made it and send a falcon ahead for the medics. We will come for the deceased tomorrow and start with the funerals the day after.” He said as he was stuffing the pipe’s small bowl with the bit of tobacco that he always carried with him.

Madara’s thick fingers were soiled, blotchy with drying blood; crimson and dark it stuck to his fingers, smearing on the pipe’s stem, the bowl, the tobacco. He didn’t mind. It was a usual sight.

“I will do as told, my Lord.” Hikaku dutifully answered, “What shall we do with the couple of Senju that we have captured during this battle?” 

Madara looked up from his activity, towards the far away treeline rising under the gray, clouded sky, thinking. A murder of crows rose from the pines, cawing and screeching loudly in delight of the deadly outcome of this battle — hoping for eyes as a treat, soft flesh to rip from bones. 

“Anyone important?” He asked. 

In the corner of his eyes he saw how Hikaku shook his head. “No, my Lord.”

“Hm.”

He guided the kiseru to his mouth and carefully enlightened the tobacco with a small fire jutsu, taking a few deep inhales — the warm, familiar burn hit his lung and he exhaled the tasteful smoke with no hurry at all.

“Kill them.” He said and left.

Business went along. Madara watched a dozen pyres go up in flames — the heavy incense smelling of lavender and lemon balm hung in sickenly thick clouds over the settlement's funeral square. He shook the close relatives’ hands, expressed his condolences, grimly swore vengeance to his simple people — went home and slept peacefully. The remnants of the herbal scent still clung to his nose when he returned to the fallow battlefield after three days.

Madara kind of expected it to escalate into battle again, as he never really planned to indulge Hashirama's delusions for too long. He was simply curious. But as a caution he held some couple dozen men back, hidden a few yards from their meeting point, only taking a handful of trusted subordinates with him. Hikaku included. 

He saw Hashirama standing in a small crowd of Senju shinobi from afar, feeling validated in his precautious actions as Hashirama seemed to have done the same. But as he finally arrived within talking distance, the Senju was distracted, his face in a concentrated frown and eyes staring down at the muddy ground as someone was leaning closely into his space. 

The man that was whispering into his ear looked like a right bird of paradise among the brown haired, tanned folk surrounding him.

Silverish white hair curled in large, generous locks and strands around his slightly averted face, only held back by a metal forehead protector. The exposed throat and the hand on Hashirama’s shoulders were so pale they rivaled an Uchiha’s fairness. 

He was clothed downright decadently in comparison to his comrades, with a deep, navy blue armor that looked very similar in design to Hashirama’s bloodred body protection. On his broad shoulders and as a part of the armor rested a large, white fur trim; by Madara’s judgment, it had to be the skin of a snow fox. The get up not only looked impressive, but expensive. 

A man of status? From the main family's circle, perhaps? Madara could see that the armor was scratched up in places, even if well maintained; he certainly has been to battle. 

But this wasn’t the thing that bothered Madara. So one unusual Senju actually managed to accumulate some wealth unlike the pathetic and poor majority of his clan, comme si, comme ça.

What actually ticked him off was the fact that Hashirama was actually listening to the man, hanging off of his every word, even going so far as to only quickly acknowledge Madara’s presence with a brief upward flicker of his eyes and then ignoring him in favor of the man next to him. 

Not quite the supplicant now, with the way he nodded in a stern, determined way.

Madara felt one of his eyes twitch in irritation and he waved for Hikaku, who immediately was by his side, leaning closer — but by far not as close as the man next to Hashirama did. It seemed like such an eerily familiar scene for them and it rubbed Madara the wrong way. 

“Tell me who that is.” Madara demanded in a low tone. 

“Oh, we don’t quite know either, my Lord. He is definitely part of the Senju clan in some way, but was rarely seen on the battlefield. Among your shinobi he is known as ‘The White Demon’, as his skills in battle are quite unprecedented, even if they do not quite compare to Senju Hashirama’s or yours. He has been quite a problem in the past and we tended to lose the battles he was involved in.” Hikaku murmured. 

“What?! Why am I only told about this now?!” Madara hissed angrily, throwing his advisor a glare.

Hikaku looked a little sheepish. “Because the data wasn’t quite clear, it’s merely an estimate of mine. And The White Demon has always made a conscious effort to stay away from you or your brother as far as I’ve observed, my Lord.”

Madara huffed in annoyance and turned his gaze forward again. Now that he thought about it, he had seen the blue armor before; in the distance, in battle. He felt his eyes narrow in growing suspicion as Hashirama and the man broke apart, which finally gave Madara a good view of him. 

He couldn't help but inhale sharply.

The White Demon looked as if he was carved from marble by a true master of the fine arts, otherworldly handsome and stoic as could be. He looked straight ahead, right into Madara’s eyes; meeting his gaze unafraid and utterly unimpressed. Madara felt his blood boil as he scrutinized the sharp cheekbones, the strong nose, the pale, plush lips. The sharp, crimson seal tattoos that spoke of serious commitment. 

The eyes, astounding; glowing garnets, tiny, priceless jewels misplaced in a filthy Senju like him. A color Madara had never seen before, not even in the sharingan. How could it be? 

His gaze — sharp, grim, almost predatory which seemed profoundly jarring for a Beta that he likely was. Both parties walked closer and Madara already felt raw and rubbed the wrong way, his inner Alpha ego rearing its head and demanding to put this insolent Beta into place. 

That man meant trouble, whoever he was. 

The mood was tense, stretched taut like a longbow as the air seemed to grow thicker and more meaningful by the minute. The sky was as gray as the days before — the same crows circling in the sky, looking for the last scraps of meat that had possibly been left behind.

“Madara.” Hashirama greeted seriously, “You came. I didn’t think you would.”


Madara sneered. “You wound me, Hashirama. Have I ever broken my word?”


Hashirama frowned at that, but didn’t dare to contradict him. Instead, he straightened, reaching out for a handshake; which Madara actually took. 

“Very well. I pleaded to you for this meeting, I’m glad that you’ve considered it. I want to go into these talks as open as possible and I’ve brought my brother, Tobirama. He’s actually quite skilled with negotiations.”


Hashirama gestured to the man next to him, who had his head held high, his arms crossed over his large chest. He gave Madara a cold look over which made the Alpha bristle. Brother?  

How could that be? Madara wondered, I never knew Hashirama had another brother. Weren't they all dead? 

The White Demon, or Tobirama, slowly unfolded his arms and, too, held his hand out in greeting, though it looked like he forced himself to, as if he did the Alpha a favor. Madara, wanting to have the high ground and not back down, stepped closer, took the warm, strong hand and—

A windrow of scent hit him, carried by a faint breeze. Flowery and wild, like summer meadow bloom, elder, hyacinth, a faint hint of something sharp and biting like— Horseradish? No, aconite! — intense and clear, nothing overly sweet, not at all saccharine and yet still so very clearly—

Omega. 

Madara almost lost the strength in his hand in sudden surprise, only regaining countenance in the last second, staring ahead at the man in front of him. 

This arrogant, stoic, broad-shouldered Senju shinobi, known to be capable and skilled, that looked at him as if he was nothing but dirt underneath his boots, haughty and supercilious in his entire behavior, so fearless and undismayed by Madara's Alpha presence and overall person was a goddamned Omega. 

Every proper Alpha that thought himself to be someone of name and rank, of power and influence, needed an Omega. It was essentially a rule of nature. At least in Madara's world dynamic and he by far wasn't the only one — the majority of society, especially of shinobi society worked this way. Alpha and Omega, the most natural of relationships, nature’s most ultimate combination, the most respected form of bonding. 

An Alpha’s status was only peaked if he had an Omega by his side, a demure, sweet little thing to give him pups and make him better by existing alone. But while Betas were the most common designation, Alphas coming in second, Omegas have become rarer than they used to. Not entirely uncommon, but still a sight to see — it was a damn shame, families wanted Alpha children to continue their lineage, didn’t want Omegas and their often expensive dowries. 

Nobody really talked about it, but the cases of infant death had been on the rise in the past decades. 

Which made the Omegas that did exist even more of a gift. To be treasured and pampered. 

Madara had often thought about taking an Omega and knew that at some point he most certainly would. He was getting older, passing his mid-thirties a while ago and the Uchiha main family needed heirs. He needed heirs. Izuna was a Beta, he wouldn’t be able to take over the position of clan head should something happen to him and the thought of having some Alpha from a side branch taking over made Madara’s skin crawl. The Uchiha clan line should remain pure: it was his opinion, it had been his father’s and his father’s father’s. 

But he simply had never gotten around to it. Certainly, he could’ve taken any Omega from a respectable, noble shinobi clan, given that money for dowries had never been a problem and that he didn’t care about gender. He could’ve bonded them, fucked some pups into them and the topic would’ve been from the table. 

But Madara didn’t want just anyone. The picture in his head of some ditzy Omega asking him stupid questions about clan business and making him dread coming home for the risk of being annoyed to death has been in the back of his mind every time he considered looking for an Omega. These requirements meant that he’d have to take the time to properly look and evaluate his future bondmate and this was time he simply didn’t have. 

War kept him pretty busy. 

And he’d have to look pretty hard, given that most Omega’s generally weren’t very smart. It wasn’t really their fault, the families often just skimped on the money and didn’t send them to school, after all only the Alpha and Beta children were useful educated. Omegas were simply married off, it wasn’t deemed necessary for them to receive schooling. This practice was common, even among noble and large clans. 

Madara had his people ordered to have their Omegas at least go through basic education. He thought that he was pretty liberal with this decision. 

But this all didn’t change the fact that he needed an Omega. For his image, his reputation. For the Uchiha clan’s image and reputation. And for heirs, preferably a lot of them; one couldn’t be careful enough. His siblings, two of them Alphas, had already perished after all. 

An Omega was standing right before him now, the most beautiful Omega Madara had ever seen, with such a sour expression on his face that it was very clear what he thought of him. 

A Senju mainline Omega. 

The handshake only lasted for a couple of seconds. 

“I’d say it is a pleasure to meet you, but we both know that this isn’t true.” The Omega said dryly. His voice was deep and smooth, a real pleasure to the ears. 

“Tobirama!” Hashirama hissed, but Tobirama only clicked his tongue, folding his arms over his chest again. 

“Indeed,” Madara rumbled, having difficulty ripping his eyes from the man. Not that he really tried. 

Hashirama began talking, but Madara wasn’t really listening to his ramblings. The details of this meeting have never interested him after all, but this Omega right in front of him most certainly did. 

The uppity thing got him thinking. While he didn’t care if things went on like they did, the war was a pesky, annoying matter; costing the clan resources, people and overall weakened their position in shinobi society with these ongoing burdenings. And additionally to that, Madara couldn’t properly plan for the future and take the necessary measures to guarantee the Uchiha clan’s prospective, powerful existence. For that he’d have to finally have to get into family planning. 

Here was his chance, presented to him on a silver platter. Hashirama and the Senju clan were the supplicants, meaning that Madara could probably demand any condition he wanted for this peace — depending on how desperate Hashirama was, which he’d already shown.

He could demand the Omega as one condition. If he truly was Hashirama’s brother, he was of noble blood. Even if the Senju were treacherous scum, their bloodline was old and pure; their children wouldn’t be sullied. 

And, on top of it all, it would be the final, greatest humiliation to Hashirama. For everything the Senju clan had done to the Uchiha. To take his little Omega brother, bite him, fuck him, pump him full of Uchiha pups.


And wouldn’t it be of sweet satisfaction to put this arrogant Omega into his righteous place, to fuck this smug defiance out of him? 

It was perfect. 

Madara didn’t think too long about it. 

He snapped his head towards Hashirama, who’d still been talking, interrupting him in his long-winded speech. 

“How important is this peace to you, Hashirama?”

Hashirama fell quiet, visibly a little offended to be interrupted this way; his thoughts not really catching up to the question. His brother answered in his stead. 

“What a moronic question is that?!” Tobirama snapped, his arms still stubbornly crossed, “What do you think? Our people are dying and I know for certain that yours are, too! Does life and your poor subordinates mean so little to you that your asinine Alpha brain can’t properly comprehend how important peace is, after so many years of meaningless, mindless bloodshed?!”

“Now, now, Tobirama, let’s not get offensive,” Hashirama quickly said, casting a nervous glance towards Madara who was a little stumped, but nonetheless amused by the outburst. 

“Tsk.” Tobirama only emitted, looking past Madara. 

“To answer your questions, Madara, it is very important to me.” Hashirama answered seriously and his expression translated that, “I cannot stand for all of this death and suffering anymore. Our people don’t deserve that. For so many years our clans have been at war and we don’t even know why anymore. It is time to put our weapons aside.” 

Madara took this in, knowing he’d won. He’d won this. Yet, he remained silent for a few more moments, quickly thinking his plans through one more time before speaking up. 

“I have conditions. I want them to be met.”

Hashirama quickly nodded. “Of course, within reason I will fulfill them.”


Within reason. Madara smirked. 

“You see, Hashirama, for the longest time I’ve been wanting to start a family. But I simply haven’t found the right Omega yet.”

He paused dramatically, just to let the dread in Hashirama settle in. To let him draw conclusions.

“You should’ve told me that you have such a lovely brother, my friend . What a beauty he is and so opinionated, too. I’ve always wanted my Omega to be smart and with a mind of his own.”

Madara looked at Tobirama, hoping to see shock, dread, anything alike. To his disgruntlement however, the Omega just looked annoyed, his gaze still unafraid and unwaveringly fixated on him. Madara didn’t want to show how much that rubbed him the wrong way and so he turned back to Hashirama. 

“I want your brother as my Omega and bondmate. That is one condition I want fulfilled, otherwise this peace won’t happen.” He demanded, jaunting his chin. 

Hashirama didn’t say anything. He looked at Madara, really looked at him as if he’d been wearing rosy glasses for years and just now taken them off; his gaze spoke of hurt, betrayal, anger. His jaw was working in what could’ve only been furious insults he was holding back. Because at the end of the day, Hashirama wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly why Madara was doing this. 

Madara decided that he’d had enough of this. He would let Hashirama sit on it, though he was sure that he would come to agree to his condition. After all, he really wanted this peace. 

“Tell me when you’ve decided on it and we will meet again to properly discuss the rest of the conditions, from both sides. I will send a falcon.”

With that he turned and began to leave, the rest of his party on his heels. As soon as he’d turned his back, he’d heard it. 

A scoff. 

“Pah. Knothead.” Said in a now strangely familiar attitude. 

He grit his teeth, but only for a moment. Because as Madara walked away further and further he knew he wouldn’t let himself be bothered by it. 

He would show this little Omega his proper place once they were promised to each other. He knew exactly how to shut this impudent thing up and he’d enjoy every second of it. 

Chapter Text

II.

“So you’re really gonna agree to peace with the Senju scum for some Omega pussy? To get your knot wet?” 

How Izuna wasn’t an Alpha eluded Madara to this day as he threw a disapproving side eye to his little brother, who was lounging in an office chair as if he was packing too much and didn’t have enough spine to sit straight. Obnoxiously biting huge chunks off of the apple in his hand, chewing the pieces with no care for Madara who was actually trying to concentrate on the paperwork. 

Izuna was a Beta, just as Hikaku was who in his right was standing behind Madara with stacks of paper in his hands  — drafts for the peace contract — but Hikaku had manners and was obedient to the lead Alpha of the clan, not swearing like a bandit and rude like a fishmonger like young Alphas from poor families tended to be. 

This had to be because their mother died shortly after Izuna was born, Madara often theorized; her soft and caring Omega influence was lacking in Izuna’s upbringing, showing itself in his lack of countenance and conduct. He would’ve actually explained this to his little brother, but he knew that this would simply fall on deaf ears. 

“Language.” He simply reprimanded, which earned him a dramatic eye roll. “Of course it’s not only about the Omega. You are well aware that the war is a burden on our clan. This way we can save costs and focus on different matters. The Omega is only there to guarantee peace is being retained and for me to start with the family planning.”

“Sooooo… it’s to get your knot wet.” Izuna concluded confidently, biting half of the apple’s husk off, seed, stem and all and eating it as if it was just like the rest of the apple. 

Madara watched the display with a growing irritation. 

“Why are you always eating?!” He finally asked peevishly because Izuna really was always eating. He would’ve blamed it on the fact that his little brother was still growing, but Izuna was twenty. It would've been explainable if he was an Alpha, too, but he wasn’t. It was just pure gluttony. 

“What?!” Izuna snapped back, pushing the rest of the apple’s remains into his mouth and straightening himself, “Now you’re all prissy because I eat too much? Ugh, get off my back!”

With that he got off and strutted out of Madara’s office, leaving his brother to stare after him with a frown. 

“Why is he like that?” Madara finally asked into the room after Izuna had slammed the tatami door shut in what could’ve only been as loud as possible. 

“I can’t say, my Lord.” Hikaku answered dutifully from behind him. 

“Of course you can’t.” Madara grumbled and instructed him to hand him the contract’s drafts.

A few days after he’d met with Hashirama on that desolate, muddy battlefield, a Senju falcon was sitting in the Uchiha falconry; a nervous, half feral thing that was screeching, picking and hacking at the other birds to the point that it had to be separated.

The messenger boy that handed him the scroll was still wiping the gaping flesh wound on his hand with a wet, bloodied rag, his expression annoyed and contorted in pain as Madara dismissed him. The scroll was smeared with blood; ironically symbolic, Madara mused as he pried the scroll open. 

He couldn’t help the giddy, sharp grin that snuck onto his face as he read through the neat, black lines. The wild falcon had been sent out of malicious compliance, he was sure. 

“... on behalf of the Senju, I agree to the previously stated terms… I also agree with the suggestions of further conversation regarding… I hope for prosperous talks…”

Anyone who didn’t know Hashirama would think the letter was appropriately formal, detached and necessarily polite. But Madara knew the furious anger that was writing these lines. The frustration. 

“I’ve won, Hikaku.” He said, unable to get the smile off of his face. 

“It indeed seems like it, my Lord.” His advisor said as he got the chance to read the letter, “Congratulations! I’m certain the Omega will be to your tastes.”

If there was any judgment within his advisor, he didn’t hear it. But Hikaku was like that, loyal, professional, a hard worker that gave up anything for his Lord. 

“I know he will be.” Madara said and leaned back with satisfaction thrumming in his veins. 

Madara didn’t quite bother to think about what Hashirama and the Senju could want from this peace. He let Hikaku draw up a full peace contract with the Uchiha’s terms and conditions, with consideration of what they’d grant and give the Senju in return. Those things were simple, but effective; offerings that were almost impossible to turn down for the Senju and Madara knew this. 

Protection, aid in battle, a steady supply in ailments — produce of any kind, dairy, meats, grain and vegetables. Leatherwares, furs, metal work. The Uchiha were a rich clan and Madara was well aware of how the Senju were struggling every winter: their forest could only give them so much and misguided decisions by their former clan head and Hashirama’s father, Butsuma, had impoverished the large clan. 

A glorious chance for Madara to take. To create a dependency relationship between the clans and effectively making Madara the most powerful man in all of the Fire nation. Maybe even the shinobi world. And it wasn’t like Hashirama had much of a choice, but Madara was making it easy for him. The only thing he had to do was to put his signature on the contract. 

He was watching Hashirama closely as the other man read through the contract with a grim expression on his face. They’d met up with their respective parties in a reputable, quiet teahouse on neutral territory. Much to Madara’s pleasure, Hashirama had brought his little brother, who, looking as lovely as ever, was reading the contract from Hashirama’s right side himself. 

Madara let himself appreciate the view. Outside of the large, bulky armor the Omega looked a little smaller and much less imposing, which he liked. Blue really was his color, the indigo haori perfectly suited his pale complexion and white hair and especially brought out his jewel eyes as a consequence of the contrast. There were white details stitched into the admittedly rough fabric, clearly it was one of the better garments the Omega owned. 

Madara noted in the back of his mind to shower him in expensive, qualitative garments once he was his. He looked beautiful now, but would look otherworldly once in satin and silk. 

“God, this is horrible.” He heard Tobirama say under his breath, to which Hashirama only nodded miserably as they both were still reading

Hashirama leaned in, to whisper something into his brother’s ear which Madara couldn’t listen to this time. But it wasn’t like it mattered. Hashirama would sign anyway. 

When they’ve both finished reading the document Hashirama placed it on the low table in front of them and he made it seem like the scroll weighed hundreds of pounds, heavy and difficult to lift and move. He was swallowing thickly before looking at Madara, his gaze hard. 

“It seems like you have this all figured out already,” he said bitterly, “I will have to deliberate with my advisors before I will decide.”

“Of course.” Madara replied smoothly and got up. “I will await your answer tomorrow.”

That wasn’t a lot of time to deliberate on difficult, life-changing decisions. Life-changing for many, many lives, not only for Hashirama’s own. Madara knew this and didn’t quite care; it was part of his strategy. People didn’t make smart, well thought out decisions under pressure — Madara didn’t think Hashirama would turn the contract down, but it never hurt to put fuel to the fire. 

Hashirama frowned, but nodded. “Then we’ll end this for now and meet again tomorrow. Noon?”

“Noon.” Madara agreed, walking out of the room, his party in tow. 

He withdrew to the accommodations the tea house had prepared for their guests, took a long, comforting bath and ate a dinner especially made for him by one of his clan members. He didn’t want to risk getting poisoned shortly before getting the biggest success of his life. 

The Senju, the hated, loathed arch enemy of the Uchiha, finally under his heel. This was history. Legend , even. So many before him had tried, generation after generation and Alpha Uchiha leader after Alpha Uchiha leader, but he was the one. He was the one to have finally done it: cementing him to be what he knew himself to be all along — the absolute greatest of them all. And on top of it all, he got a pretty Omega as a reward. He leaned back and bathed in his sure victory. 

The stony face of Hashirama said it all. He looked like he’s swallowed a handful of glass and the shards were painfully traveling down his throat. 

“I have decided to agree to this prefabricated contract. I will sign it, making the terms and conditions valid.” He said gravely. Madara gave him some credit, his voice was still strong and proud as he said it.

Victory, victory, victory.

Madara smugly looked over to Tobirama, who now for certain knew that he’d be handed over to Madara, once and for all. Maybe now the dread would settle in, maybe now he’d see some fear and respect in the Omega’s eyes. 

He is thoroughly disappointed. Tobirama looked annoyed at best, his pretty face in somewhat of a neutral expression; again, meeting Madara’s gaze utterly unafraid. 

Madara wanted to seethe and snap at the Omega, but reeled himself in, only working his jaw to let these emotions go. He’d only have to be patient, he told himself, soon enough they’d be married and then it would be an entirely different matter. That bonding bite would taste outright delicious when he’d finally had this Omega fucked into submission. His canines ached at the thought. 

“Then go ahead and sign,” Madara said irritatedly at Hashirama, “I have a wedding to plan.”

Madara sought Tobirama out in the evening hours, he couldn’t help himself. He saw him from afar in the small gardens of the teahouse, standing there all by himself. How could he not have approached, now that the contract was signed and wedding planning in full motion? 

Tobirama looked beautiful in the evening sun, smoking a small kiseru and clutching his middle with his other arm — he knew some Omega’s did it and it looked like the exact type of kiseru an Omega would use, but Madara thought it to be a bad habit. Maybe he’d have him stop once they were bonded. 

He felt drunk off of the excitement, grabbing the Omega’s waist and pulling him close as he was in reaching distance. It earned him a glare over the shoulder. 

“Get your dirty paws off of me, we aren’t married yet.” He commented drily. 

“Oh, but we are affianced.” Madara murmured into his ear as he allowed himself one last, generous stroke over the Omega’s hips before letting go, rounding the other man and standing in front of him.

Tobirama was looking at him as if he’d just said something incredibly stupid. “Sure, if you want to call it that.”

“What else would you call it?”

That only made the Omega’s eyebrow rise as he guided the kiseru to his mouth, taking in one deep inhale. “Don’t play stupid, it doesn't suit you.”

Madara chuckled at that. “You really have no manners, don’t you, little Omega?”

This earned him a scoff. “You have none either, so why should I? You seek me out without a chaperone, feel me up like some pervert.”

“My, my, what harsh words.” Madara retorted humorlessly, feeling a twinge of sourness in his chest. It seemed like nothing could really shake the other and that was disturbing him. 

Would he really yield in the bedroom? The smallest of doubts began to settle. Madara wouldn’t have the motivation to manhandle the Omega into place once they’d consummate the marriage. He always hated when they were crying and screeching, it made his cock limb instead of hard. Some Alphas enjoyed their Omega’s entirely unwillingly, but it mostly turned Madara off. 

“Fucking moron.” Tobirama said and Madara didn’t think he heard it right. Did the Omega really just insult him to his face?!

“What did you just say?” He ground out, closing a bit of distance. 

The other remained unimpressed, the kiseru still held high and it made him flare his nose. How could he?!

“I called you a fucking moron.” Tobirama repeated calmly, “Are you deaf as well?”

An honest growl ripped out of Madara’s throat and before he was able to stop himself, he’d stepped impossibly closer into the other's personal space, face to face with the Omega who was only a little shorter than he was. Tobirama didn’t move back, nor did he flinch; there wasn’t even the tiniest twitch in his lashes. Almost nose to nose with the most powerful Alpha in the entire nation and his expression hadn’t changed one bit. 

It made Madara even angrier.


“Now listen here, Omega, it seems that no one ever bothered to teach you your place, but don’t think this horrendous attitude of yours won't be tolerated once we are mated. I will teach you proper manners and you will obey, you can be sure of that!” He hissed. 

No fear. None at all. 

Instead, Tobirama cocked his head, keeping their faces in the exact same, close proximity. His eyes narrowed, a tiny twitch played around his mouth as if he was holding back laughter. And Madara grit his teeth so hard his back molars were surely disintegrating themselves, finding himself unwilling to back down first and break eye contact. 

Them tiny, crimson jewels — glistening as if they truly had a thousand facets, as if light was breaking in innumerable shades of red in small gemstones shaped like irises. The color of the sharingan, yet it seemed utterly wrong, perverted; though fascinating, captivating at the same time.

A sign, a prophecy? 

A shade of red, indescribable, incomparable and the first thing Madara had to think of was fresh, unoxidized blood; full of youth and life, squirting out of the convulsing body and promising sure death by bleeding out. Demon, demon. 

“Yeah? Will I?” Tobirama said and his voice was quiet, low, full of amusement. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

He was about to draw back entirely, before he leaned back in one more time. “Before you decided to irrevocably tie yourself to me, for life , did you ever stop and think about why I am twenty-eight, an Omega and unmated?” 

He stepped back, giving Madara a dismissive lookover, before letting out a scoff. “Oh well, you’ll see soon enough.”

And with that Tobirama left him there. 

Madara felt like he was frozen in fury and anger, his hands working themselves in fists, wondering why it felt like he’d lost this conversation.

It was an easy thing to decide to ignore the conversation and its contents. So what if the Omega thought he had some kind of leverage? This misconception would clear itself up to him soon enough, even if he was still too stubborn about it now. Madara had to give him some credit, after he’d asked around his people, especially the active shinobi, they’d all given a clear, impressive account on what the White Demon was like on the battlefield. 

Despite everything, Madara had no difficulty believing that the Omega was a skilled shinobi. It was said that he was fast, rivaling his brother's speed and some of his men swore that he was even faster. They also told Madara that he was a master at the suiton ninjutsu, as well as unmatched in his sealing skills which he knew to use in creative and dangerous ways on the battlefield. Madara had seen evidence of it on the man’s body; no one took body sealing lightly and having that many, especially on the face, meant that this was an art the Omega had mastered as well. So many similar tales of his subordinates didn’t lie.

Proficient in summoning, taijutsu, and an apparent sensor as well. It seemed like the list of his skills wouldn’t stop the further Madara asked around and at some point he decided that, even if probably no one in his clan except for him or Izuna rivaled the White Demon’s proficiency, most of that surely had to be exaggerated. 

Simple people were easily impressed. His people unfortunately were mostly simple people.

There was just no way an Omega was this battle hardened. Omegas weren’t even allowed to be shinobi in the Uchiha clan and Madara was quite sure that this rule was well established with the Senju as well. 

So who the hell had given Tobirama the permission to become a shinobi? Especially because he was from the main family. 

He must’ve started when he was way young, like all shinobi did, even before they presented. The difference was that Omegas were immediately pulled from training as soon as they’d had their first heat. On top of it all, Tobirama seemed very intelligent. He must’ve received some form of higher education, otherwise he wouldn’t be this quick-witted, sharp and all around knowledgeable. But Madara knew that the Senju didn’t really educate their Omegas either. So what could be the reason? Had he hidden his designation?

But that couldn’t be, judging by the way he was practically flaunting it with his unveiled scent the first time they met on that muddy field. Moreover, Madara would recognize an Omega a mile away, even if they did their best to hide it. Most herbs, balms and fragrances were easy to see through. 

It would remain a mystery, at least for now. He’d get his answers eventually, even if he doubted that, would he ask Tobirama, he’d get an honest answer. 

But if that little Omega thought his experience in battle would somehow give him an advantage over Madara, an advantage so great that he didn’t fear him at all, he was sorely mistaken.

Patience, Madara thought to himself, he’d learn soon enough. 

Madara smirked. Maybe if the Omega behaved well enough after their mating, he’d let him spar with him from time to time. 

The next two weeks were quite busy. Madara juggled two major responsibilities at once; getting the terms of the peace contract rolling and organizing his wedding. 

Madara had everything pictured already. He wanted a traditional ceremony, with the Omega in white and the Alpha in black and with a priest consecrating the union. He wanted a nice, large, but not too large, reception to show off his victory to every clan out there, has already invited the ones that were on friendly terms with the Uchiha and the clans that were not would find out by the word that was most certainly already spreading. 

With many representatives attending, it would be the event of the year. The compound had to be prepared for that, as it was already decided that the wedding would take place in Uchiha territory. Not that he had anything nefarious in mind, he had the Senju in his pocket already, but he’d always imagined that if he should marry someday, then at home.

As far as he could think back, everyone was bending to his will. There’d been only very few people in his life that were able to dictate him around, tell him what to do. The only one and true man he ever bowed to was his father, until he died. His mother at times had tried to get him to yield to certain things, to make him a little softer, a little more gentle; but he’d merely ever mildly indulged her out of his own free will, for her sake.

She’d been an Omega after all.

His older brother had sometimes been pushing him around when he’d been younger, as he also had been an Alpha; he'd been the one who was initially supposed to follow in their father’s footsteps as Alpha clan leader. But Ryōya died in battle when he was eighteen or nineteen. Madara didn’t quite bother to remember — his only memories of Ryōya weren’t fond ones.

And ever since he’d buried his father, there’d been no one. No one dared, which was only right and sensible. Because truly no one could. Whatever Madara wanted, he got. This peace with the Senju and this stubborn Omega were just another piece of evidence for it. 

As he saw it all come together, the beautiful decorations in the compound and in the estate’s main hall where the ceremony was supposed to take place, he couldn’t help but smile.

The wedding would be beautiful.

“So you’re really marrying him, huh?” Izuna said mutedly on the day he was getting married. 

He had to practically force his younger brother into his best kimono and haori. Why he was so reluctant to be happy for Madara still eluded him — maybe he was jealous, which Madara could understand. He’d have to start looking for brides for Izuna, he noted in the back of his mind as he let a servant finish the final refinements of his tailor-made marital kimono. His brother was old enough to be married as well, after all.

“Yes, as I've said I would.” Madara responded absentmindedly as he was watching himself in the mirror, waving the servant away as he brushed over the material a final time himself. 

"So, what?" Izuna said, "You just fuck him, bite him? Breed him? That's all he's here for?" 

Madara frowned, the questions so weird and sudden that he broke his gaze from the mirror to cast a lingering one to his brother. But Izuna was just sitting there at the side of the room, snacking on some dried fruits. His expression open, if not a little tense. 

Madara looked back to the mirror. "What's with these questions? Of course that's all he's here for, Izuna. He's an Omega."

Silence fell over the room as Izuna apparently had run out of things to say. Maybe he was concerned that the Omega would threaten his place here, would take up too much of Madara's time so that he won't have any more for him left. That thought made Madara soften. 

"I won't forget you just because I'll have an Omega, Izuna. Your place in this family is unshakeable." He stepped away from the mirror and ruffled his brother's hair, who just yelped in offense. 

"No Omega will change that." He promised with a smile. 

Izuna reluctantly, but lopsidedly smiled back. 

The dark estate was lively with people gathering in the lantern lit yard, and Madara drank in the mood; it was filling his chest with pride and a sense of superiority. Clan heads and representatives from all over the fire nation had come to his calling, had responded to his invitation — were now chatting amongst themselves and Uchiha clan members in a very light, casual manner. 

A wedding was always a reason for celebration, of course. 

He saw Nara, with whom the Uchiha were on good terms. By association Yamanaka and Akimichi also attended — naturally there were many Senju and even Uzumaki, who looked rather unhappy to be there. Poor bastards had probably hoped to get their hands on Tobirama first; it wasn’t uncommon for distant cousin clans to marry in between each other to keep the clan lineage clean. Madara had heard rumors that Hashirama was engaged to a Beta kunoichi of the Uzumaki clan. Good for him, Madara mused, maybe that would buffer some of that anger he felt now. 

He made his rounds, shaking hands and engaging in polite conversation, managed to meet a few important people he’d planned to get introduced to before. Even if this was his own wedding, he didn’t want to miss the opportunity to make new connections. After all, this was the event of the year. If people left fed, drunk and happy they’d remember that. A positive association was practically a given then and it never hurt to be remembered in a good light.

After a while he excused himself because while the wedding was a rather public event, the ceremony itself was to be held in a small circle of people. 

The buzz of people talking and laughing quieted down as Madara walked deeper into the estate, eventually reaching the main hall. It was decorated beautifully and the servants had worked for quite a few days to get it to this state. Just as the yard was decorated with lanterns, so was the main hall, along with a few candles, garlands and flowers.

Most of the important people had already gathered on sitting pillows along the side; he spotted his brother, who looked rather bored and Hashirama, who sat on his pillow with a stern and stony face. The old priest was leafing through a small prayer book. Madara came closer, eventually reaching his designated spot.

This was it. He was about to get married.

Perhaps he should’ve felt dread, but instead there was only excitement, satisfaction; giddy, miniscule malicious joy. 

And when Tobirama walked in, he knew he’d done everything right. Because surely, this had to be the gods rewarding him.

The Omega looked a vision in white, for once in traditional, flowy Omega garb instead of Beta clothing that he should honestly be forbidden to wear if he looked this breathtaking in his designation's attire. His pale skin looked even lighter against the white; an ethereal beauty unlike Madara had ever seen before. His silverish hair was brushed and properly styled, adorned with little silver clasps to keep it from falling into his face. There was a little red tint on his plush, usually pale lips and the color mirrored his eyes, the tattoos. 

Madara swallowed thickly, thanking the Gods and his instincts that they’ve once again haven’t failed him. This was the best decision of his life; he’d seen a diamond in the rough the size of an apple, unclaimed, and he’d snatched it within seconds. Perfection and everyone else had looked past it? All the better — it would be his alone. Now he was actually looking forward to a shared future. Tobirama was beautiful and not half-stupid, their pups would be perfect. 

As Tobirama finally settled next to him, almost shoulder to shoulder, Madara managed to look straight ahead towards the priest who began the ceremony. 

“We have gathered here today…”

It was rather unimportant what the contents of the ceremonial speech was, it only mattered that it would tie them in marriage. That was one step, the second, the bonding on that raw, primal level, would come later. 

“Alpha and Omega have come here to be joined, as the Gods have dictated. We ask them to bless this union with their divine power for a prosperous future.”

The ceremony was coming to an end. The priest turned and retrieved a cup with a steaming liquid. Madara immediately knew what it was, a smug smile tingling around his lips. Every traditional wedding came with this herbal tea the Omega was supposed to drink. Heat inducing tea. It was one of the reasons he’d wanted a traditional ceremony — the blend was being used for centuries, so the bonding could take place on the same night the wedding had taken place.

The priest wordlessly handed the cup towards Tobirama, who took it into both hands without hesitation. As Tobirama was from a traditional clan as well he’d have to know what kind of tea it was. Madara watched him from the corner of his eyes, but yet again the Omega’s expression remained unchanged. The brows were a little drawn and his eyes cold, but it was a far away cry from a dissatisfied scowl that Madara would’ve loved to see. By the look on his face it appeared like he was attending some minor mandatory event he was too polite to cancel on, not his own wedding.

Tobirama briefly sniffed the concoction, which only smelled strongly of different herbal teas and wild spices. The power it had though was undeniable. But, without procrastination, Tobirama put his lips on the cup and carefully drank the hot beverage without even an eyelash twitching. It probably tasted horribly, but if it did, Tobirama didn’t show it. He handed the priest the cup back, who looked satisfied. 

“By the power of the Gods, this union is hereby sealed. Alpha and Omega now may kiss.”

Madara didn’t need to be told twice. He clasped the Omega’s jaw rather roughly with one hand and kissed him, maybe a little inappropriately for a wedding, but the previous frustration, anger and yearning overwrote his sense of propriety. The kiss was a little messy, a little wet, but it was everything — the taste of the other’s mouth, the faint remnant of the tea on his tongue. The sticky sensation of the wax tint on his lips. Madara took a little too long to break the kiss and when he did, Tobirama looked properly annoyed with his narrowed eyes and messed up lip tint that now smeared a little over the edges. 

“And now we shall only wait.” He said quietly as the guests began awkwardly shuffling from their seats. 

It would only take a few hours until the tea would make its full impact. 

Madara felt satisfied and uplifted as everything had gone as he’d planned to. But as he watched the Omega’s face, he still saw no dread, no anxiety; Tobirama stared at him with intensity, his gaze sharp and clear, his ruby eyes glistening and instead of worried he looked  — hungry?  

It was then that the faintest, smallest cold stone of trepidation settled in Madara’s stomach.

“Yes.” Tobirama said just as quietly and there was something unrecognizable in his smooth tenor, “We shall.”

Chapter Text

III. 

Despite the strange feeling that something was distinctly… wrong, Madara swore to himself to not let the festivities be ruined for him because of it. His instincts were alerted for one reason or another, particularly Tobirama’s unshaken and unusual behavior, but he thought nothing much of it. Madara was a shinobi, and having his nerves tickled by minor things wasn’t uncommon; sometimes there was just nothing to it and his hindbrain was overreacting. 

So, he just let himself enjoy the afterparty. In the grand entrance hall of the estate, a big and lavish banquet had been prepared, the large room filled to the brim with people. A few musicians from the clan were providing cheerful tunes, the guests were talking happily amongst themselves in the soft light of the many lamps and candles — the mood already drunk and boisterous as the evening hours had progressed, the sun having vanished behind the horizon long ago. 

Madara drank in the atmosphere as he ate the excellently cooked food, sat a little further apart from the wedding guests with Tobirama and other members of the main family which, admittedly, weren’t many. Izuna, to his left, wasn’t really talking and just grazing through the dinner, though this was the first instance Madara didn’t mind. He was just exhilarated by the fact that his plan, with all the details that were part of it, had worked.

To his right sat Tobirama, who he carefully watched by the corner of his eye. But his bride’s face remained stoic, almost bored, as he carefully picked apart his food, taking small and polite bites; refraining from drinking the alcohol the many servants rushing about offered him constantly. But Madara saw it, the small collection of sweat in the other’s nape that slowly, but surely, grew too plentiful to stem from the warm and thick wedding clothing. 

It was some hours after the actual ceremony and Madara was in the depths of a conversation with his uncle, when he felt Tobirama grab his forearm to get his attention; not truly forcefully, but not gently either. He turned. 

“I will retire now, husband. I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of the dinner.” He said it perfectly politely, though there was no emotion in it. No softness, no demureness. 

Madara studied him for a few moments, his eyes raking over his face. Even in the dim halflight of the candles, he could see how sweat was collecting at Tobirama’s temples, how it already had colored the roots of his hair on his forehead a darker color, how the other’s eyes seemed glassy even though he’d refused wine all evening, how his neck and collarbones, of which Madara only got a little peak, were glistening wetly. He smirked; The tea was having its effects.

“Yes, go. I will join you later.” He promised darkly. 

Tobirama nodded and took his leave, Madara watching him as he slipped through one of the smaller doors — Hikaku followed him, as instructed. Madara didn’t want his Omega to get any stupid ideas while walking the empty hallways.

“That’s going to be a lot of fun later, huh?” His uncle slurred happily. 

Madara chuckled. “Yes, indeed.”

Madara stayed for a few hours longer at the feast. He wanted to enjoy the festivities a bit longer and wanted the people to see him on his wedding day. The fact that he was now married, to a member of the other most prolific and influential clan of the fire nation at that, was something that should sink in with the people. And even though the peace contract was sealed away, with only a few people knowing its content, most of the Fire nation population knew that Madara had managed to get the Senju to heel. The marriage was not only useful for him personally; it was also an effective representation. 

Additionally, if Tobirama got worked up into his heat for a few hours, it would be a lot easier to coax him to open up with a few touches. How delightful he’d look, finally submissive to his true nature, Madara mused.

The guests left slowly around midnight, most of them staggering and drunk beyond measure. A few were passed out on the hall’s floor where some servants desperately tried to wake them, and the last few were still talking to each other in small groups. Izuna left hours earlier, looking exhausted and struggling to keep his eyes open, so there was no one there anymore which he’d have to keep an eye on. And so, Madara decided it was time and excused himself. 

The hallways were dark and empty as he walked towards his private rooms, excitement and downright giddiness rising in him; he’d drunk a few cups of wine and the alcohol burned in his system, making his imagination roam wild. 

He’d take Tobirama from behind first, mount him properly. Show him what it means to be an Omega belonging to an Alpha like Madara — he’d fuck and knot the submission into him, and maybe this very first round would take. 

Madara’s dick was already twitching in interest at those thoughts, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. And it wasn’t long before he arrived at his quarter’s doors, pushing them open unceremoniously and stepping through into…

Darkness. 

There wasn’t one lamp lit, not even a candle, though there’d ought to have been, he was sure. When he carefully shut the doors behind him, the dark engulfed him. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that his quarters were abandoned, but that was impossible.

Because the thick, overwhelming scent of an Omega in heat was almost choking him. 

Madara had already thought, upon meeting Tobirama, that his scent was intense, but what he smelled now exceeded all his expectations. It broke the bar of what he thought possible. The natural wild flower scent almost made him dizzy as he took in a deep breath wafting all around the room; the sharpness, that had been faint when smelling it for the first time, had increased by a tenfold. People who didn’t know anything about flowers would’ve just thought it smelled something like horseradish or wasabi, but in this situation Madara knew it could only be aconite. 

What Omega smelled like aconite? He faintly wondered, but that thought got lost quickly.

He came in here with a plan, with stride, but that enthusiasm now wavered as he was confronted with these strange circumstances. He took a step forward and then a second, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, but not fast enough for his liking. 

“Omega?” He grunted into the nothingness, voice bold enough to carry through the space. 

What answered him was a growl. 

He couldn’t describe it as anything else, though that should’ve been impossible because Omega’s didn’t growl. But this one did; low from the chest, deep and true. It reached his ears and made him frown, his instincts suddenly going haywire, the feeling of wrongness increasing. 

He walked, though much more carefully now, further and further  into his quarters, through the thick darkness and towards his large bed that was lightened by the moonlight —  because where else would an Omega in heat be? The growl didn’t sound a second time.

When he reached the bed, a noise made him turn sharply. 

He was tackled suddenly, unexpectedly and, before he even knew what was happening, he was on his back, on his bed, his brain desperately trying to catch up as to what was happening as he found himself lying down.

Tobirama was above him, his large body on top of Madara’s and only dressed in a loose nightshirt with hair damp from sweat and skin wet and shiny. His ruby eyes were wide and, in his feverish state, seemingly shining mysteriously on their own as they bore into Madara. A twisted smile adorned the Omega's lips. This was no innocent, playful smile, he realized quickly. Tobirama looked feral in the moonlight, though there was no doubt of the intelligence and awareness that was still behind his gaze. 

Madara quickly tried to get up and free himself from this inferior position, but Tobirama simply made himself a little heavier, putting an end to his admittedly weak struggle. 

“So, Alpha has finally come to reap what he’s sowed, hasn’t he?” 

The Omega whispered above him, his voice dark and rough — he licked his lips, his small canines sharp in the grin he gave Madara.

“You think you’re so smart,” Tobirama whispered as he drew closer. Madara, having had enough of these ridiculous theatrics, began struggling harder against the Omega’s grip—

—and found, to his horror, that Tobirama was strong. He grunted, his teeth clenching as Tobirama’s fingers closed against his wrist,  snarling as the Omega bent his face towards him, their noses nearly touching.

“I’ll just marry some Omega, that’ll do it.” Tobirama mocked in a low, yet strong voice. He was so close that Madara could feel his warm breath on his nose, could see his red, bloodshot, eyes drilling into him in perfect detail.

“Let him fester a bit in his heat, that’ll make him easy. But you never stopped and thought about what laid above your limited horizon, did you?”

Madara tried to turn his head away, but it was no use, a wrong decision even. Tobirama latched onto his jaw, tiny sharp teeth pressing into his skin, hot tongue lapping over it, biting and licking. Tobirama moved along his jawline, reaching his neck, the Omega moaning filthily as he got a taste of the sweat that had collected there during the evening.

Enough, enough! Madara had enough of this! He put proper strength into his muscles and tried to push upward to move the Omega from him. An Alpha like him shouldn’t be treated this way! He struggled and struggled, the sharp grip around his wrists only intensifying. 

“What? Fuck—” He gasped as he realized, truly, that there was a proper shinobi on top of him, full of muscle and strength of his own. 

The Omega growled around his neck and Madara shivered, swallowing thickly as dread began settling in his stomach. The vibration on his vulnerable skin made him squirm. 

If he really tried, he could free himself, he was sure. If he could really fight—

“Many believe I hate Alphas.” Tobirama mumbled darkly, one of his hands letting go of Madara’s wrist, but before the latter could seize this opportunity to reverse their position, the Omega reached between  the folds of his kimono and squeezed the growing bulge in his underwear, hard and determined. 

An uncontrolled, loud, moan that sounded more like a choke escaped Madara,  who felt pathetic and increasingly horny. 

“But that is false. On the contrary, I love Alphas. I love their cocks, their knots. Maybe a little too much…”

The hand, quickly and with practiced motions, snuck under the fabric, closing around Madara’s growing erection and pumping. The sheer stimulation made Madara throw his head back and clench his teeth in a last, desperate, attempt to not let this crazy display affect him. 

“All these Alphas I was set up with, they loved the idea of me submitting to them. And my father was so very eager to match me to each one of them.” Tobirama continued, his speech fast and intense, heat fever clear in his words, his hand continuing its motions on Madara's erection.

“When they all, sooner or later, found out what I am like, they all backed out, came up with pathetic excuses to break the courting. I’m too intense for them, can you imagine that?”

Madara’s other hand, still in a tight grip, was pulled forward, guided in between the Omega’s legs; soon, he felt the impossibly wet, clenching, omega pussy on his fingertips. He groaned, trying to shake himself from the overwhelming lust he was feeling to finally try  to gain control back over this situation, but it was no use. His Alpha hindbrain erased any rational thoughts  as if it was nothing. 

Two of his fingers dipped in, and the hot, wet, walls welcomed him easily.
“Fuck— What are you—”

“Imagine my excitement when it became clear that I’ll have such a handsome Alpha all to myself.” Tobirama snarled with satisfaction, practically ripping his underwear off of him. 

I could fight back, Madara thought faintly as he watched the Omega position himself, as he watched the Omega position himself over his dripping erection, still in utter disbelief as to what was happening, I could, in theory—

But his cock seemed too interested in what was happening. And, as Tobirama slowly, but surely, lowered himself on his painfully hard erection, all his will and struggle left his pliant, sensitive, body. His moan was earnest, the arousal coiling in his stomach raw and real. He’d rarely felt like this before, the tight warmth around his cock making him feel like he was going crazy. 

“All to myself.” Tobirama repeated with wonder as he began moving, seemingly still in disbelief about it.

Reactionarily Madara tried to push his hips upward, to dive his cock deeper into the Omega’s pussy. Perhaps trying to catch the beginning of his knot on the pussy’s rim like the mindless Alpha he now was, in a lust driven haze. Tobirama only growled at Madara’s actions, pushing him back down roughly. 

“We do this my way. Not yours.” He hissed. 

Madara was beginning to feel desperate as his cock was being used to the Omega’s will. He wanted it to be different, wanted to be the one to control the pace and the vigor, even though there was little to complain about the enthusiasm. But as he tried to move again, to maybe change the position, Tobirama grabbed his throat, his strong hand squeezing in warning. 

Maybe Madara was too far gone. Maybe his hormones had canceled out his rationality and pride entirely, maybe the surprise of this ambush had made him somewhat vulnerable. He whined. 

" Please—” He gasped around the grip on his neck. What was this Omega doing to him?!

“No.” Tobirama responded harshly, his strong legs working harder and harder as he was simply taking what he wanted. 

I’m just an Alpha to him. Not a person. He’s using me. Madara thought as he was breathing harshly, feeling his climax approach. Arousal was flooding his veins in a way it never had before and he felt dizzy, high from it. Tobirama’s face was as beautiful as it was scary when he looked down at him, hunger and superiority practically radiating from his eyes.

“You’re in luck, Alpha.” The other moaned, though it almost came out as a snarl, “I always wanted to have many pups. But see, I’m special, so you will have to try many, many times.”

There was so much Madara wanted to say, he wanted to curse and snarl at this treatment, but words failed him. All that escaped his mouth were the choked off moans he could not entirely hold back, the wet slide around his cock almost too much. His jaw and teeth ached terribly at the sudden urge to bite because, despite the fact that he was being held down and used like a ragdoll, his inner Alpha wanted nothing more but to sink his teeth into the Omega’s neck and mate him. 

And he tried. He really did. Pushed against the other’s hold around his neck and snapped his teeth at the tender flesh that surrounded the mating gland, but he didn’t really get far with his ambition as Tobirama just intensified the grip and shoved him away, his face set in angry dismissal. 

“You think you get to do this first? No, you don’t.” He spat and then sank his own teeth viciously into Madara’s neck. 

It was true, an unshakeable fact of biology, that Omega’s had smaller fangs that were similar to those of Beta’s; kind of cute and non-threatening. Not comparable to an Alpha’s long and impressive fangs in any way, as Omega’s fangs were not designed for show or fight, just an aftereffect of nature, before a child could either present as an Alpha or Omega or not at all. 

And somehow, this fact of biology was a lie; it had to be. Because Tobirama was locked into Madara’s neck savagely, teeth reaching deeply and painfully, the sensation of his bonding gland breaking overwhelming and blinding, to the point that he was sure that he’d blacked out for a moment or two, his knot popping pathetically at the same time, pumping his seed into the Omega above him. 

The pain was indescribable, not exactly bad — because Madara’s been in a lot of really bad pain before — but somehow it was unbearable still.This was no clean, nice and gentle, bite one that loving couples might exchange. In between the harsh, throaty pants and groans of pain that involuntarily escaped Madara, his body exhausted from knotting. He barely managed to get ahold of the Omega’s neck and bite his mating gland as well, and even though it did the job in fulfilling the mating, the bite felt weak. Pathetic. 

Tobirama growled around his hold on Madara’s neck at the sensation of his own gland breaking and it sent a cold shiver down his spine. Madara soon pried himself off of the neck, the faint taste of copper — of blood — rolling on his tongue, growing more and more uncomfortable with the other’s teeth buried in his flesh. It was too much; Tobirama’s hot breath ghosting on his skin, the faint movement of the canines in his flesh. 

This was supposed to be his victory, the peak of his life, his delicious reward in the form of a pliant, submissive, Omega. But now he felt nauseous, the bite he’d administered felt like a loss instead of the win it was supposed to be and he couldn’t wait for the other to finally finish the bite that had grown to be very painful the longer the other was clinging to it. 

When Tobirama did pull back, his mouth was messily smeared with Madara’s blood; a sign that the mating bite had been sloppily and carelessly administered. But the other didn’t seem disturbed, on the contrary, he licked his lips like they were coated with honey, his white teeth tainted red, his gaze glistening and still hungry. In the moonlight, it looked downright devilish.

Too intense. 

Madara looked away, because he couldn’t stand to see it any longer — letting himself fall back on the bed, exhaustion now taking over his body. The wine he’d drunk earlier didn’t help , though his heart was still beating as if he was in an intense fight. Yet, he couldn’t get away from Tobirama, as his knot probably would probably last for another half hour from his own experience. He felt terribly conflicted, while sleep was tugging at his eyelids, his body was still alert by the apparent danger he was so close to. 

The sudden sensation of a hand on his cheek almost made him flinch.

“Sleep, Alpha. I can see how tired you are.”

Madara didn’t usually listen to any commands given to him. He was above that. But this one, it seemed like he couldn’t ignore, even though he tried his best to fight it. And soon sleep took him.

He didn’t stay unconscious for long. He woke with a start, mind scrambling to get ahold of his bearings as it was night still. A lamp now gave faint light to the room and though it didn’t do much, it did just enough for him to see the schemes of his furniture. 

Madara soon realized he wasn't knotted to Tobirama anymore. He was naked, except for a thin undershirt, and the sheets were pooling around his waist. A quick glance to the side, and upon Tobirama's back, told him the Omega was sleeping.

Quickly, Madara got up and, as quietly as he could, went into the adjacent washing room, where fresh water had been placed by servants for the night. With shaky hands, he gathered some of it; it was cold, but exactly what he needed as he splashed it into his face. He felt how the droplets ran down his face, dampening the couple strands of hair that got in the way, while listening to the small sound of water dripping back into the bucket.

His harsh heartbeat seems to resonate in his chest, ringing in his ears and accompanied by uneasy, deep breaths. But, no matter how long he remained in that position, his pounding heart wouldn’t calm. 

Eventually he straightened himself,  lighting a small lamp with a small fire jutsu and reached for the hand mirror. He swallowed thickly as he finally dared, after a moment, strangely hesitant, to look at his reflection. 

Madara had always been pale, it was an Uchiha trait. Now though, maybe because of a trick of the eerie, faint, light, his complexion seemed waxen and gray, lips as pale as his skin, with prominent bags under his eyes, who were bloodshot.  

But the most disturbing thing was the bite. It was like a wild beast had mauled his neck trying to have him for an evening meal, getting a proper taste first before deciding that Madara wasn’t up to its palette. Gory and brutal, the deep marks of Tobirama’s teeth contrasted against his skin, smeared all over with crusting, black and dark blood. It was apparent Tobirama’s teeth had moved a lot when biting Madara, the holes where they’d left almost gaping and deep , as if the Omega had put all his jaw’s strength into it — exploiting every bit of length his canines could give him. 

No effort had been made to clean the open wound. With a shaky hand, Madara reached up, carefully palpating the sensitive area and hissing, even the untouched skin around the bite was starting to look red and inflamed,hot under his touch. He pressed down a little, dried blood flaking off, fresh blood, wet and glistening, still oozing weakly out of the wound. 

No wonder it still hurt this bad. 

With his heartbeat still thundering in his ears, and with hands that just wouldn’t stop shaking, Madara began cleaning the bite, carefully dabbing a wet cloth on the injury and clenching his teeth so as to not groan in pain. When he began feeling dizzy, he stopped, simply standing in the washroom and unsure of what to do.

He cast a glance towards his bedroom, the shoji door open; he saw the man in his bed, still sleeping soundly and unaware of his troubled feelings. 

An Omega. Madara thought, and his mind just couldn’t understand. He’s an Omega. How is he an Omega?

Before this night happened, Madara had been so sure of an Omega’s role in the family and in society. He knew exactly what his opinion on them was. An Omega couldn’t possibly be above an Alpha in any way, shape or form. They were there to balance the family and support their Alpha, that was their only use. Madara knew that he could’ve shoved Tobirama off of him, he was the strongest shinobi in the nation — he would’ve had no problems fighting back and putting that crazy little thing to his place. 

But something about what had transpired had made it impossible. Had made him feel powerless and small. The picture Tobirama made ghosted in his mind; towering above him, with hunger and glee in his gaze, like a beast from the fairytales, a monster in the disguise of an Omega. Impossibly strong, supported by dark magic, making him cum harder than he’d ever had before with a hand around his neck, his teeth buried deep in his flesh. 

What had he said?  “ I’m special, so you will have to try many, many times.”

The thought of having sex like this again, this rough and harsh, made Madara shiver — his cock twitching weakly in interest. Distressed, he didn’t know what to make of that reaction. What did Tobirama even mean by that?

Madara’s thoughts were crashing over each other as he tried to reason with himself — this won’t happen like this again. He’s just an Omega. I will set him straight soon enough.

But doubt was gnawing at him, breaking and biting chunks off of him. The conflict in him was great, greater than it had ever been before, and his heart was beating so heavily in his chest he thought he could see it through the thin clothing he wore if he tried.

He’s just an Omega.

But now, Madara was staring warily into his own bedroom, his eyes tracking every small movement of the Omega in his bed, clasping his hands to get them to stop shaking. 

Who was he? An Omega — surely not.

Demon, demon. 

Chapter Text

IV.

An Omega’s heat lasted for about three to four days, varying from Omega to Omega; some had longer heats of up to five days, others were done after two. In this time they’d crave the Alpha’s knot for relief, sometimes not enough in their right mind to eat, drink or sleep properly; the heat fever ravaging their, often, slim bodies and utterly exhausting them. It was an Alpha’s honor and duty to help an Omega through their heat, taking care of their needs in a sexual, as well as pragmatic manner — providing food, water and a safe environment for them to find rest. 

This was what Madara knew about Omega’s heats. 

But apparently, everything he knew was wrong. Or, he really did marry a demon. 

Tobirama’s heat lasted for seven full days. 

And at no point in time did he ever show any sign of fatigue. On the contrary, even on the zenith of the seventh and final day, Tobirama’s greedy sexual want was as strong as on the first night, taking everything his heat-wrecked mind wanted from Madara’s body. 

Madara’s prior resolve, the one he made on that fateful first night, to make the Omega heel and submit had crumbled into nothingness as soon as Tobirama had woken up. As much as he’d tried to somehow reason with Tobirama, be it with aggression —

“No! I will not— we will not do it this way, you impertinent Omega!

“Of course we will.”

— and not an inconsiderable amount of violence —

Madara trying to grab Tobirama by the neck, to press down on the bite he’d given him and have him go limp, like any other Omega would. Moving against the strong press of Tobirama's body above him. Digging his fingers into the others shoulder, arms, hips. 

— it had all been vain attempts that left him feeling even more pathetic. 

Madara would’ve loved to claim that it all left him unaffected, that his cock got appropriately hard at the right times. To just fulfill a duty to an Omega, even if the Omega was a feral beast that lacked any form of gentleness. Because even when manhandled, any Alpha’s cock would get hard near an Omega’s wet pussy — that’s just how nature was. 

But his cock was eagerly hard during all of it. When the Omega was rutting against him, holding him down, sneering demands at him the few times he was actually able to be on top; when Tobirama allowed him to be on top. 

“Harder. Do it right, you pathetic Alpha. Harder!”

Madara wouldn’t have been able to count the amount of times he’d come. Popped a knot. Pumped seed into a willing, hot body. All while being utterly degraded in a way that he’d never experienced before, that he’d never allowed before. That he’d never thought to be a possible reality for him — Alpha, clan head, shinobi — before. He would’ve killed anyone who would’ve dared to even suggest such a thing without batting an eyelash. 

But now it had just… happened. As if his pride, his status, as a prime Alpha all meant nothing. 

It was mortifying. Shameful beyond anything he’d ever known. Never in his life had he been so utterly ashamed as now, lying in his own bed, relief and nausea flooding his body as he  was seeing the Omega sleeping next to him finally had a healthier glow and wasn’t sweating buckets anymore. That his face was peaceful and not distorted in pain from the cramps he had been experiencing.   

It’s over. Madara thought, and yet his mind was still racing, the shame at remembering all the filthy, undignified, sex settling in his stomach like food poisoning. And yet, despite it all, despite the shame, the anger and the humiliation, his cock did a pathetic twitch. 

Madara practically threw himself out of the bed and fled the room, not able to stand the closeness any longer.

He thought about it. About killing Tobirama. 

If the man ever told anyone about how his heat had taken place, no one would believe him… but it would sow some doubt. And once the seed of doubt was planted, it was only a matter of time until it solidified into belief. And everything Madara had known would be destroyed, in ruins — no one would give him even an ounce of respect if they knew he’d let an Omega treat him this way. And, even out of principle, Tobirama had made a fool out of him, had humiliated him, taken his pride and stomped on it.

That had to be avenged, surely?

But he quickly threw the thought out. Killing the Omega would be a messy affair; the whole peace would fall through and Hashirama wouldn’t rest until his brother’s death was avenged, of this Madara was sure. And he wouldn’t even be able to blame Tobirama’s death on sickness or anything alike. Somehow Madara knew that the man would sniff out a plot to murder him from a mile away.

So, no. He couldn’t, realistically, kill him. But, in the shame he felt, he wished he could.  Then, maybe, it would disappear, melt away like snow in the summer and he’d feel like before. Proud, with his head held high and his eyes towards the sky, nothing so abhorrently different about him anymore. 

Izuna was eyeing him from down the low table, eyes wide, hesitant, and with the concern of a beaten dog. Slowly pushing the sticky natto rice around in his bowl and chewing on his rice in very slow jaw movements. He wasn’t saying anything, which was unusual for someone as boisterous and loud as Izuna, but Madara could see from the corner of his eye that he wanted to. 

Izuna never knew how to shut up, even if Madara wished it, and now his little brother wouldn’t even choke a single word out. It left an embarrassing silence hanging over the room; thick and almost suffocating. 

Madara knew he himself was tense. He hadn’t entirely covered the messy bite on his neck when he finally emerged from his bedroom, after Tobirama’s heat had ended, which turned out to be a mistake. His mind had been elsewhere and he’d simply forgotten. Now the edge of the gory wound was clear to see and the rest of it covered by his loose morning clothing. 

He knew Izuna was staring at it. Probably wondering how it happened. Asking himself questions. He could practically hear his brother’s running thoughts in his own mind and he hated it. 

“Don’t you dare say anything!” Madara finally snapped at him, breaking through the silence with his growling voice. 

Izuna’s head ducked into his shoulders, his eyes quickly averting down to his, now likely cold, natto rice.

“I wasn’t going to.” He mumbled, almost too quietly for Madara to hear. 

“Good.” Madara hissed back, but this conversation felt pointless, weak and certainly didn’t help his mood. He would’ve preferred it if Izuna hadn’t seen the wound at all and  gobbled down his breakfast in his usual greedy manner. 

Frustrated, Madara shoved the final piece of steamed fish into his mouth that he’d barely touched and had been simply sitting in front of him, chewed, swallowed, stood suddenly — which made Izuna flinch — and left the room, feeling sensitive in his own skin.

“I was deceived!” Madara spat as he paced his office in fury, shirtless, “I was made a fool by this Senju whore!”

Hikaku stood by with a deep frown etched into his features, holding bandages and disinfectant in hand. He said nothing as he watched his lord cross the room from left to right in stride, again and again. 

“This had to be set up! Some conspiracy to fuck me over one last time! This filthy little demon—”

Madara clamped his mouth shut, molars grinding onto each other in frustration as his fingernails dug into his skin. He took a deep breath, painfully aware that this furious outburst wouldn’t lead him anywhere. 

“Please sit down, my Lord. I’d like to address that wound.” Hikaku said seriously, his voice calm. This calmness translated over to Madara, whose tenseness left him suddenly, as if sucked out of him.

He let himself fall into the chair, and Hikaku began dabbing a wet cotton cloth, soaked in disinfectant, over the wound. Even eight days after the bite,the treatment burned as sharply as if it occurred yesterday. Madara didn’t grimace, the pain too mild to affect him; instead he stubbornly looked ahead, his gaze fixed on his office’s wall. 

“This wound is very deep, my Lord. This will scar badly, even with your body's excellent healing. I haven’t seen anything like it before.” 

“I know.” Madara grit, “That Omega isn’t fucking normal. That’s not human, he’s not behaving like an Omega should. It’s unnatural. Like he’s some fucking obake.” 

Hikaku grunted in acknowledgement. “Do you want me to do further research on him, my Lord?” 

Madara scoffed. “Naturally. I don’t want to wake up with a kunai in my throat someday. Do you have his quarters arranged already? I don’t want him anywhere near me.”

“It is currently being carried out, my Lord.” 

“Very well.” He said darkly, “I will have to have a word with Hashirama soon.”

For one reason or another, Madara didn’t see his husband for two days. 

It wasn’t like he was actively avoiding him, but burying himself in work did help distract his mind from the fact that a demon was haunting his home. Additionally, as soon as the Omegas heat had ended, he had instructed Hikaku to get an empty suite set up for Tobirama to live in. It had always been an option, but before that fateful week, Madara hadn’t thought that it would be needed; if he’d fucked the Omega into submission, he would’ve been all too happy to let the little thing sleep next to him every night. 

But that wasn’t how it happened. Nothing about Tobirama was submissive. Nothing about him was little. And even when the shame had subsided a little, it still burned brightly within him, slowly corroding his insides. Also, it wasn’t unusual for arranged couples to live separately, and technically they were just that; no one would question this move. 

It didn’t, however, change the reality that Tobirama was now part of the household, and thus actively living in the same walls he did. Sooner or later, Madara knew he'd run into him and some part of his mind wasn’t ready for that confrontation yet. Unfortunately for him, it happened sooner rather than later.

He simply wanted to retrieve a book from the library, when he stumbled over Tobirama sitting in one of the designated chairs, reading a scroll. He was oddly taking up a lot of space; a large presence dressed in white and blue, back straight against the chair’s back, arms loosely hanging over its rest. He looked like one of those sleazy Alphas inviting dainty Omegas to sit on their laps at functions. It looked all wrong to Madara. In one hand Tobirama was holding a smoldering kiseru and in his lap laid a scroll. A couple of others were neatly piled up next to him.

As Madara entered he stood still, contemplating for the briefest of seconds to leave immediately again. But he couldn’t, an Alpha like him didn’t back down in the presence of an Omega; didn’t back down in general. He had to establish, once and for all, that he was the head of this family. He was the Uchiha Alpha lord and everyone else had to bow to him. Even aggressive, manic Omegas.

But his heart beat faster again, as if he was a rabbit being chased by a predator. And he felt his hands getting clammy, similar to the way they got when he picked up a kunai, knowing he was about to fight to death. 

Tobirama’s eyes lazily moved upward, taking him in. He wasn’t saying anything, but his eyes were provoking Madara to. 

“Don’t smoke indoors.” He said coldly.

Tobirama’s eyes wandered back to the scroll, moving the kiseru to his mouth and taking a long, slow drag, entirely unbothered.

“But you do. So why shouldn’t I?” 

Madara felt how he grimaced in distaste. “You’re an Omega, it’s unbecoming for you to smoke anyways.”

He saw how the other rolled his eyes. “Those are arbitrary societal rules, and I don’t see why I should waste my time following those.”

Not knowing how to retort to that, Madara simply scoffed in contempt, deciding that this conversation wasn’t worth his time. He turned away to look for the book he originally came for, keeping Tobirama in the corner of his eye; he wouldn’t make the mistake of turning his back towards him. 

A beat of silence passed and, to his relief, Madara thought the conversation had ended. He thought wrong. 

“I understand why you moved me to another suite, but I was missing you in my bed the past two nights, husband.” Tobirama said calmly.

It sent a cold shiver down Madara’s spine as he quickly threw a glance towards the Omega. He was unmoved in his chair, he hadn’t even lifted his gaze, still reading whatever scroll was propped in his lap. 

“Are you insane?! Why would I continue to seek you out after what happened in your heat?!” Madara bit venomously. 

Tobirama chuckled briefly, as if Madara had made a joke. “You are being dramatic. Don’t you want pups? Heirs?” 

Madara bristled. “The heat should’ve taken care of that.”

“Have you already forgotten what I told you?” Tobirama said, now finally looking at him again. His face was neutral, as if they were talking about the weather, not the traumatic seven days Madara had gone through, “I’m special. We have to try a little longer for conception to happen.” 

“Are you telling me you’re barren? A worthless womb?” Madara spat.

That would be the worst case scenario. Not only would he be stuck with a crazed, unnatural Omega, but said Omega wouldn’t even be able to give him heirs. 

“Are you a moron? Truly? I was told you were of intelligent disposition, but I have yet to see such intelligence. I said we have to try more, not that I can’t.” 

“As if I would want to lay a hand on you outside your heat!” Madara barked in retort, before he could think. 

Tobirama didn’t look impressed.

“Fine, your choice. But I’m telling you that I won’t wait much longer. I have needs and I want pups. I know that you need pups and, well…” He smiled, “Your rut isn’t all too far away isn’t it? You’ll come begging soon enough.”

Madara took a sharp inhale, his heart pounding, trying to comprehend what Tobirama just said, implied  — not knowing what to say, what to do — and despite what his rational mind told him he should do:

Challenge him. Put him into place!

His high strung instinct won. 

And he fled pathetically, feeling ashamed and mortified, without even getting the book he wanted; but he kept his back straight — never would he give an Omega a bow. 

Madara would have to deal with it, somehow. He couldn’t back out of it now because, on the surface, everything had gone just how the Uchiha clan head had schemed. He had a reputation to uphold; he couldn’t allow himself to be visibly disturbed by whatever had taken place. Of course, there was no way he’d continue to tolerate this abhorrent behavior from Tobirama, but he was too busy to even think about what to do to counteract it.

There was enough he had to take care of to distract himself from his young marriage, to gain space between him and the Omega he’d wedded. Just because the peace contract had been signed didn’t mean his work was done, there was enough he had to attend to to ensure that the clauses of the contract were fulfilled. He’d instructed Hikaku to keep an eye on his husband, but he couldn’t help but to have his own on him as well. 

One could never be careful enough.

He hated how Tobirama acted. Simply hated it. And there wasn’t even anything about it he could reprimand or criticize; in the eyes of society, his young husband was doing everything right. But Madara wasn’t letting himself be fooled once again; he saw right through it. 

Tobirama wore loose collars now that the mating had taken place. Madara’s bite on full display on his pale, milky, skin for everyone to see. This wasn’t anything unusual as Omegas had two options after they married: if the union was born out of pressure or politics some shy Omegas could wear high collars, keeping the bite private. But Omega’s who did that were often called stiff, stuck up, high strung, or even Prudish and old-fashioned. Otherwise, they could show the bite, as Tobirama was doing. 

It had slowly established itself that Omegas in noble families wore looser collars, to tease with the view of a bite. To show belonging, fidelity and, symbolically, the Alpha’s power. So, technically, Tobirama wasn’t doing anything wrong. 

But there was no teasing in the way he wore the bite. There was no attempt to hide it,  he walked proudly through the estate and the compound with every Uchiha gawking at his neck. And he didn’t wear it in a ‘show off’ kind of way either, even if people would assume it was — Madara knew his bite was small. Pathetic. He knew exactly why Tobirama paraded it around. 

Tobirama wore it in a smug, humiliating kind of way. ‘Look how small it is, he couldn’t even get his teeth in properly. This is your Alpha clan head?’

Madara avoided looking at it, frustrated and angry that he could do nothing about this behavior, that he was rendered powerless once again. Even his conservative, old, council members would disapprove if he forbade Tobirama to wear his collar so loosely — he could already see his uncle taking him aside, saying something well-meaning along the lines of:

“Don’t be so harsh to him, nephew. I know you want him to be obedient, but Omegas just need a gentle hand from time to time. If you’re being stern with him constantly, he will resent you. Isn’t it nice that he wants to show off your bite?”

Joke’s on his uncle, Tobirama was already resenting him and showing it in the worst way possible. Madara wasn’t buying the Omega’s little speech he’d held on their first night, the one about loving Alphas — a ridiculous statement, given the mocking treatment he’d received.

And yet again, his thoughts were involuntarily with his husband.

Madara smacked the pen he’d uselessly hovered over the half-filled page on his desk, deciding that it was no use. It was late and his mind seemed unwilling to work any longer. He extinguished the few lamps that had been giving him light in the deep of the night and made his way through the dark hallways of the estate. 

He was still debating on if he should eat something before going to sleep when a distinct scent hit his nose — immediately his heart began picking up speed, an almost natural reaction at this point. And when he rounded the corner, sure enough, Tobirama was standing next to the entryway of his chambers. 

“Have you come to terrorize me yet again?” Madara said, but the venom in his lowered voice lacked sharpness. He was too tired for their quarrels. 

Tobirama snorted in response. “Terrorize, he says.” He stepped closer. “An Omega like me? An Alpha like you? What an absurd thought that is.”

Madara warily took him in for a few short moments. The man was still dressed properly in his day clothes, his gaze as neutral and unimpressed as it always was. 

“What do you want?” Madara finally asked.

To that, an amused smile crept on Tobirama’s face. “Is it so outlandish to believe that I simply crave your closeness, Alpha? We are mates, after all. Have my words meant nothing?”

Madara frowned. “If you think I’ll let you repeat whatever happened in your heat, then you are mistaken.”

The Omega clicked his tongue as if Madara had said something incredibly stupid. 

“I’m not here to force myself into your bedroom, I’m not that kind of man. You’ll come to me willingly. No—” he drew a little closer again, “— just your scent. That is all I am asking for. After all, it is terribly lonely here and you smell so incredibly lovely.” 

Lovely. As if he was an Alpha describing an Omega’s scent. 

Madara wrinkled his nose in distaste; he didn’t really want to indulge Tobirama, but he was also painfully aware that he couldn’t fully neglect the needs of the Omega he married. It would cast him in a bad light if Tobirama didn’t smell like him, people would notice sooner or later. Scenting, while incredibly intimate, was something he could bear.

So, after a moment in thought, he held out his wrist. “Fine.”

Wrist scenting wasn’t so bad. And from his experience, Tobirama left him alone after he got what he wanted. 

A smile twitched on Tobirama’s face as he took Madara’s wrist in his hand, moving it up to his face and—

With a jerky pull he got Madara off balance, letting the Alpha stumble and close the distance. With a confident step, Tobirama met him, burying his face in Madara’s neck. Inhaling deeply as his nose brushed against the sensitive, sore skin; it was the side of Madara’s bite. 

Madara growled instinctively, hot anger boiling in his stomach. Typical; give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. He should’ve known better than to give in to anything. But he was trapped in this situation, leaning against the man with one arm still straight and locked, firmly in Tobirama's grasp — Madara wasn’t particularly eager to cause a quarrel in the middle of the night.

Tobirama rumbled deeply in response to his growl, something Madara had never heard an Omega emit, something that, to his horror, made his cheeks heat. The man’s thumb was tracing over his wrist in soothing circles, applying a little pressure on the scent gland there — it was calming him down a little, which was strangely frustrating. 

“Your scent is divine, do you know that?” Tobirama breathed hotly against his neck, and Madara could hear the deep inhale his husband was taking through his nose. “We could have so much fun together. It’s such a shame that you’re still so hung up on miniscule details.” 

“Let go of me.” Madara growled, more sharply this time. A real threat. 

Tobirama sighed and stepped back, his stoic expression trained on Madara as he let go of Madara’s wrist and crossed his arms. Madara worked his jaw, adamant to not let this get to him despite the fact that it already kind of had. 

“You take more than is granted to you. It’s not right.” He bit, furious. 

Tobirama shrugged. “Well, this is an Alpha’s world. So I take what I can.” 

And so, the Omega turned and walked away, untroubled and confident, vanishing into the darkness of the estate. 

Sleep only came slowly to Madara that night, as he refused to touch his semi-stiff cock.

What Madara needed was answers. 

Either Tobirama was really good at pretending, or there was truly something seriously wrong with him. Never in his life had Madara encountered an Omega that acted so confidently and cocky, in a way an Alpha would — he would’ve dismissed it as a bad upbringing; there were plenty Omegas that grew up being warped, spoilt, and ended up having a misplaced sense of confidence and superiority. 

But Tobirama was different from those superficial, flimsy beings. There was nothing superficial about his ego, nothing acted out for the sake of angering Madara. Even though it seemed absurd and disturbing, perverse even, to Madara, everything Tobirama did was because he wanted to. 

“I take what I can.”

On top of it all, there was a strength to the Omega that he’d underestimated. Most of Tobirama’s designation were of lithe and slim built, not a lot of muscle supporting them. They often didn’t grow very tall either, at least not to an Alpha’s height; it was just a part of nature. But Tobirama was just as tall as him, with maybe an inch or two missing. His shoulders were broad and strong, as were his arms, his hands — Madara could still feel their phantom touch pressing down on him. 

It came in handy that Madara was scheduled for a meeting with Hashirama. There were still many things left to discuss and establish about the peace and it was a perfect occasion to confront him about his demon of a brother. 

As a now married Omega, Tobirama wasn’t allowed to attend — politics were an Alpha’s job. Which brought Madara some relief; the thought of having the Omega sit next to him in this meeting was distracting. 

But in truth, even without Tobirama there to distract him, Madara wasn’t even really listening to the meeting with Hashirama. Or anything that came out of Hashirama’s mouth as he read from a paper, he switched from rubbing his forehead and working one hand in a fist in a self-soothing manner. He looked tired and worn out, which was understandable to a certain degree; being a clan head, especially in these times was no easy feat. 

But the more time went by, Madara couldn’t help but wonder if he knew. If Hashirama knew what kind of man his brother was and, the longer that thought simmered in his mind, the angrier Madara became. Because there was no way he didn’t, right? They certainly grew up together, he must’ve witnessed the countless courting offers Tobirama had surely received, seeing them all fall through one by one. He must’ve known. 

“— which were delayed for a week, but should start coming in now. Also— Madara? Are you even listening to me?”

Madara didn’t see any point in denying it. “No.”

Hashirama sighed, and the exhaustion visibly glimmered in his eyes. “Why did I even— why did I spend so much time talking about this then? Now I have to repeat everything.”

Madara hissed in a dismissive manner. Somehow the contents of Hashirama’s document seemed pretty irrelevant to his current household situation. 

“Did you know your brother was a freak?”

This got Hashirama to frown deeply, his eyes sharpening as he finally met Madara’s gaze as he used to on the battlefield. “What are you saying?”

“You know damn well what I’m saying,” Madara hissed as he leaned forward, “But I’ll gladly repeat it: Did you know your brother was a freak?”

Hashirama studied his face, his gaze sharp and calculating; somehow, Madara always forgot that beneath all the jovialness and indulgence, there was an intelligent shinobi that knew when to push, when to pull and when to cut his losses. After a moment, there was something falling from Hashirama’s face, pretense maybe. 

“I take it your marriage isn’t to your satisfaction, then?” He said, and there was something cold in his voice. 

Madara’s face morphed into a silent snarl as silent confirmation, his fist coming down and connecting with the low table in a loud thump, the tea cups clattering in response. 

“You fucking knew, didn’t you?! Let me marry your demon of a brother, for what? For revenge?” He growled, furious, “This world is about winning or losing, Hashirama, I only did what I had to do. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same if you had the chance!”

“No, I most certainly wouldn’t have!” Hashirama snapped back before gathering himself, agitation glistening in the deep brown of his eyes, “I had hope, Madara. That we could build a future together, for our children and grandchildren, without violence and oppression. And I thought that, maybe, you could see the reason in it! The goodness! I remembered the dream we shared as children and had hope, that’s all there is to it.”

Hashirama shook his head, breaking his gaze. “But it seems I never knew you at all.”

Madara wanted to spit at him that he should’ve known, that this world wasn’t made for goodness. That those dreams children had were doomed to crumble, to be crushed by the rolling stone of reality. But he was so angry that he couldn’t even pry his jaw loose. Instead, Hashirama continued: 

“Tobirama is very dear to my heart. He is my only surviving brother, so yes, I know that he is special. I always loved that about him, because I always knew that, no matter what Alpha would someday be foolish enough to try and claim him, he would come out on top. That he wouldn’t drown in this… sickness Alpha’s spread. That he would never be a docile, head bowing creature that lost its entire personality to a marriage, to a claim.”

Hashirama laughed, but there was no humor in it. “And he even tried so many times to tell you. He would tell me every night how you simply wouldn’t get it. I’m sorry to tell you, Madara, but at that point it’s your own damn fault.”

Madara wanted to set the room on fire. Wanted to burn it to a crisp and ash with everyone in it, Hashirama included. Wanted to avenge his pride, his honor, his status through suffering. Wanted them to hurt. Set up all along, to fall into a trap shaped like an Omega, smelling of wildflowers and aconite. He wanted… he needed…

His wrath was a fire and it was burning him from within, because he knew.

He knew Hashirama was right.

His own damn fault.

Chapter Text

V.

Madara watched the scene unfold from afar. 

It was quite the chilly, overcast afternoon for it being the midst of summer; water from the heavy rain the night before still clinging to the grass. Madara, who was scheduled to meet with his uncle, the representative of his circle of advisors,was coincidentally standing on the front porch, when he saw his uncle talking animatedly to Tobirama in the estate’s gardens. 

His uncle seemed a little too excited to talk to the Omega and Tobirama, on his part, was nodding politely, a smirk adorning his face that anyone who wasn't as perceptive as him would, perhaps, read as inviting. Madara knew better. He could see, even from this distance, how Tobirama thought of his uncle as a blithering idiot. 

It wasn't like Madara didn't agree with the sentiment. Uchiha Tatsuhiro, fondly called 'Tatsu' by thelate Clan Head, was the sheltered younger brother of Uchiha Tajima and, according to his father, not born under the brightest star. Which in and of itself wasn't that bad — even the mentally slow had a place within the Uchiha clan, and Tajima had given his brother a seat in his circle of advisors. 

It wouldn’t be that bad if Tatsu didn’t have his misplaced sense of confidence. He thought he knew everything, could do everything, and was the best at everything when the absolute opposite was the case. Madara knew his uncle would've loved to lead the clan, but that would've ended in a disaster. 

Luckily for the Uchiha, Tatsu didn't have the right to lead as he was the second born. This, however, never prevented him from blunderingly trying to influence Madara, which was as comical as it was annoying. Madara indulged his uncle, to some degree, he’d promised his father, before he succumbed to battle wounds, that he’d look after him. That didn’t mean he let go of everything his uncle was up to .

Madara felt his eyes narrow as he watched Tatsu clumsily stroking Tobirama’s clothed upper arm, the touch lingering for a bit too long. Again, his uncle was trying to take too much. Tatsu never married, but not for a lack of trying. And even if Madara didn’t particularly like his newly wed Omega…

… the way Madara's uncle touched his husband, he absolutely didn’t appreciate. A low and uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach, like a stone, as he watched Tobirama bare his teeth at the action. It may have looked like a smile to his uncle, but to Madara it looked like a predator preparing to tear into prey. 

Tatsu didn’t get the message, oblivious as he was. Madara told himself that he was angry because Tatsu was so blatantly touching his Omega; it was outright disrespect to him and his position as Alpha and clan head. No Alpha touched another Alpha's Omega. Tatsu should’ve known that, but he was an old horndog that chased after every pretty thing — even when they were already taken. 

Madara has had enough.


“Tatsu!” He bellowed from the porch, his strong, deep voice echoing through the gardens. 

He saw how his uncle startled, withdrawing his hand from Tobirama’s upper arm in an instant, eyes fearful and darting towards Madara, who simply looked Tatsu over dismissively. He briefly wondered why he still bothered to entertain his uncle when he was trying to flirt with his Omega, before jerking his chin to signify his uncle to come to him. 

Tatsu did so, even if reluctantly, throwing a last look at the Omega he was leaving in the gardens. But Tobirama wasn’t paying attention to the old Uchiha, instead he was intensely gazing at Madara; red eyes glistening in delight, smirking without teeth, but seeming almost feral nonetheless. 

Stubbornly, Madara held the stare, working his jaw in dissatisfaction — somehow, yet again, it felt like he’d lost some sort of battle. Even as Tatsu arrived, subdued and awkward at being caught red handed, Madara was almost unable to break away from those devilish red eyes. 

“Follow me.” Madara grunted, and only then managed to tear his gaze away from Tobirama. 

Wordlessly, his uncle followed, his shoulders slightly hunched as they both vanished inside the estate. Madara was walking fast, uncaring for the other man’s war injury that made him limp a little — he could sense that the silence was weighing down on Tatsu as he struggled to keep up.

“Nephew, I —” 

“Shall I find you a wife, uncle?” Madara interrupted unkindly, slowing down to lay his hand on his uncle’s back, giving Tatsu a searching gaze that the man seemed to avoid, “Hm?”

They came to a stand still as Madara’s hand crept towards the back of Tatsu’s neck, which was usually a friendly display done towards younger men and boys from the clan, so as to show that he was a provider and had their back. Here it was none of that; the grip represented his superior status in the clan and the family.

“I, haha…” His uncle laughed stiffly as he finally dared to briefly look Madara in the eye, “Uhm — nephew, you know I’m too old by now.”

“Right.” Madara said, feeling his jaw clench, holding eye contact even if his uncle didn’t have the guts to hold it for long. He leaned forward, into other man’s space.

“Then you’d do good to keep away from my fucking Omega, Tatsu.” Madara hissed in a low tone, squeezing the back of uncle’s neck threateningly. “Do you understand?”

Tatsu swallowed thickly. “Y-yes.”

“Perfect. Then we have no problem, do we?” Madara sneered and kept going, his uncle clumsily following. 

It was because Tatsu disrespected him by touching Tobirama, nothing else. Madara mulled in his head. No Alpha would allow such displays as the one in the garden to happen, especially none in Madara’s position. It would only signal to other clan members that he was weak, unable to protect and provide for his Omega.

Nothing else. It was nothing else.

Madara didn't really want to broach the topic of his uncle with his husband as talking to Tobirama always made him… tense. And defensive. Like control over the conversation was slipping through his fingers, and he hated that. But he couldn't get it out of his head that the Omega had seemed to indulge in Madara's uncle flirtations in the gardens — while Tobirama hadn't really seemed inviting, he hadn't seemed discouraging either. 

And that rubbed Madara the wrong way. Again, he reminded himself, this is about disrespect. An Omega shouldn't behave this way, and he had to simply remind him. 

Madara also hated how much of his mental space the Omega had begun to take up — he was thinking and thinking, until he was overthinking. They’d only been married for roughly two weeks and he felt as if he was losing his mind. Was he giving too much meaning to the scene in the gardens? No, it couldn’t be. 

Tobirama was a cunning, manipulative beast. There had to be some conniving motive behind his actions, especially when it came to gaining Madara’s attention. Madara hated that it had apparently worked, because now he was on his way to confront him. 

Already a little worked up and with raw nerves, he found the Omega sitting on the back porch, reading a book and enjoying some steaming tea from a cup next to him. As Tobirama could apparently hear as much as a cat, he lifted his head as soon as Madara set foot outside — a sly smile creeping onto his face as soon as he recognized the Alpha. 

“Husband,” he said and it somehow always sounded mocking to Madara’s ears, “Care to join me?”

“Yes, I do care actually.” Madara sneered and to his satisfaction, the smile slipped off of Tobirama’s face, replaced by his usual stoic arrogance. 

“Did you encourage my uncle?” Madara pressed not bothering to introduce the topic with tact, crossing his arms in the process, “Don’t answer that, I know that you did. I know he never dares to go as far as touching people without encouragement. Do you know how that would’ve made me look?! If anyone else had seen that shameless display earlier?!”

Tobirama scoffed and closed his book, placing it at his side and finally turned his upper body towards Madara. “With ‘people’ you mean ‘Omegas’; your uncle is a perverted, old Alpha. Of course he dares, the only ‘encouragement’ he got was my mere existence.”

Though Tobirama didn’t really sound upset by the fact, more like it was just another minor inconvenience of his life — as if he was dealing with a bug infestation in his home. Madara was about to retaliate, but after a short silence, Tobirama gave him a sharp onceover before rolling his eyes. 

“By the Kami, sit down. You look like you’re going to hurt yourself with your own standoffishness. I told you I’m not interested in taking you unwillingly and, at the very least, I won’t ravage you on your own back porch.”

Madara felt sharp anger and embarrassment shot through his veins, sure to heat his pale cheeks — how Tobirama had, again, managed to turn the conversation to his favor, to make Madara look like the childish and immature one, was downright infuriating. Madara thought about not doing it — about just remaining where he was, standing, or just walking away — but that would’ve meant giving Tobirama the satisfaction of winning the conversation again. And that was a satisfaction Madara certainly didn’t want to give. 

Working his jaw for a moment, he did sit down, with some distance to Tobirama. 

Tobirama looked at him a little incredulously, before snorting dismissively. “Again, with the theatrics…” he said, before briefly narrowing his eyes. “Tell me, husband. Did you choose me out of propriety? Would you have preferred someone more… neutral? There's no shame in it. A beta? An Alpha, maybe?”

Madara immediately felt his hackles rise at that insinuation. How dare this Omega suggest such a thing! Madara was a proper Alpha, not inverted; never would he even think about entering a relationship with another Alpha!

“What did you just say?!” He growled. 

Tobirama lifted his hands placatingly, though his bored expression didn’t change at Madara’s angry outburst. “Peace. I’m not suggesting that such a thing is true, this rather strong reaction just proved the opposite, as did my other observations. I would've kept my distance if that were the case, I'm not a monster. But if it is not, then I’m left to wonder…”

The Omega tilted his head, looking at Madara as if he was a puzzle to solve. “You were so eager when my pre-heat set in on our wedding day, I could practically smell it. And then, during and after my heat, you were snarling at me and biting as if it physically pained you to fuck me.”

Madara felt his face distort in distaste at the Omega’s foul choice of words, but was otherwise left speechless as the other continued. 

“But it didn’t. You were fighting for your perceived power; you weren’t repulsed by fucking me, quite the opposite. You would’ve loved to fuck me into submission, wouldn’t you? Even now, when you find my behavior repugnant. No—” Tobirama leaned closer, his voice lowering, “You act all repulsed and sensitive because I didn’t let you. Because I was the one in charge. Because you felt robbed of your pride, hurt in your big, moronic Alpha ego. You didn't get your way as you always do and it makes you throw tantrums like an overgrown toddler. ”

Madara clenched his fist, taking deep breaths through his nose as he watched Tobirama smirk, the Omega’s eyes roamed over his face; triumph, at having seemingly hit the nail on the head, and giddiness shining in their bloody depths. “It’s all about keeping power for you, isn’t it?”

Tobirama nodded silently as if Madara had agreed and then, to Madara’s surprise, Tobirama let out a muted laugh that sounded honest.

“Isn’t that really pathetic , Madara-san?”

If it was possible, the world would have burnt with his rage. 

This Omega had it all fucking figured out, didn't he?

A few hours after the conclusion of that conversation, Madara felt embarrassed. Not only by Tobirama's insulting insinuations, but also by his own reaction, fueled by fire and fury. 

Madara had jumped up from the porch, his own impeccable self control the only thing preventing him from physically lunging at the Omega — and even in that moment, a smile tugged at Tobirama's lips as if this situation was the funniest one he'd ever been in. As if they'd been exchanging friendly banter. 

"Shut your mouth! You know nothing!" Madara had all but barked. 

"A little teasing and you lose control. Imagine if I said that before we married, when you hinted and teased at all the ways you wanted to possess me." Tobirama smirked in response. 

"That's different," Madara had hissed, "You're an Omega!" 

"Astute observation." Tobirama had commented drily, "Now tell me why it makes such a big difference. Why are Alphas so much 'better' than Omegas? Why do they deserve to be the ones in charge, at all times? In detail, if you don't mind."

A flush of cold fury had run over Madara at the challenge, suffocating the smoldering wrath, and for a few very long moments he simply stared at Tobirama in frosty anger — didn’t he realize how this world worked? What was the natural order of things? Some things didn’t need to have a reason, they were just… facts. The earlier an Omega accepted that, the better; but this one apparently had never done so. 

“I don’t need to. They just are, Omega.” Madara answered, putting emphasis on Omega.

And Tobirama had just snorted. “Yes, of course.” His tone the epitome of sarcasm, “You just don’t know the answer.”

Madara had not seen a reason to continue this ridiculous conversation afterwards and left the porch — not fled, not fled.

Madara just wished Tobirama would be easier to deal with. That he wouldn’t challenge Madara at every chance he got, in everything he believed in. As if he was Madara’s strange and twisted opposite.

He hated that the Omega got him thinking about fundamentals, about things that usually wouldn’t need a thought — values and norms that had shaped and formed Madara’s life ever since he had been small, and had grown to be the naked constructs that upheld his life. He always had enough on his plate, plenty to worry about; why should he spend valuable time on this as well? And who was Tobirama to demand this? All had been well in Madara’s life, despite its ups and downs, the good, the bad and the ugly; it had turned out good. 

Madara had celebrated his thirtieth birthday quite some time ago. Shinobi often didn’t have the privilege to grow old, and many died before reaching this milestone; not him. Never him. Madara had his life in his hands and uplifted it. And many may call him cruel, selfish, callous because of it. This world wasn’t about what was fair and right. This world was about eat or be eaten — there was no place for equality and justice, and if you thought otherwise, well. You were the eaten one. 

Quietly, Madara quickly admitted that, yes, he did make a mistake. Despite his best efforts, he wasn’t without errors of judgment. Tobirama was one of those errors — in Madara’s own greed he’d miscalculated and yes, it was his own fault. 

Now it was about what he could make out of it. He’d hoped that despite Tobirama’s thorns, he was malleable, reasonable. Because who would be so foolish as to deny nature? To deny what made the world spin? 

But no, again and again, when confronted, Tobirama reciprocated with claws and rendered Madara weaponless. He didn’t know how or why the Omega did it, but after each and every conversation he was left stunned and angry — reminded once again that by the heat, by this Omega, he’d been changed. 

Changed. Forever? Irreconcilably? Madara didn't want to think about absolutes — but the part of him that feared, desperately hoped it wasn't. That he could go back. That everything would be like it was before. Without this strange feeling of being different now. Change caused by hands other than himself never promised anything good.

Madara couldn’t explain it. Didn’t even want to think about it, though to his dismay he was constantly reminded of this change within him. He was an Alpha that demanded respect and yet, when a haughty Omega called him ‘pathetic’, the Omega didn’t lose his head and life, and  remained, instead, sitting and laughing, while Madara retreated, feeling beaten and vulnerable and raw. 

Madara needed answers , as soon as possible. 

Who was this Omega?

Hikaku was standing in his study, holding a pathetically small stack of papers in his hands. Frighteningly small, in fact. Perhaps three solid sheets. And that meant he wasn’t bearer of good news, despite what Madara had hoped, because if Hikaku didn’t bring more, there literally wasn’t more anyone else could find out. 

Madara sighed as he leaned against his desk. “What have you found?”

“Not a lot, my Lord.” Hikaku said, with regret in his voice. 

Oh, really? Madara wanted to sneer at him, but refrained from doing so. Hikaku didn’t deserve his anger, no one did their job so thoroughly and as well as he did. 

“Go ahead.”  Madara said, making a small hand wave, and Hikaku began sorting through the small amount of paper.

“Senju Tobirama, twenty-eight, born sometime in February, third born after a stillborn the year prior.” Hikaku began rattling off facts as he flipped through the pages, “Born without designation, as most are, but with some form of genetic condition that ran in his mother’s family, causing his ‘unusual coloring’. Some of his now deceased siblings were also partially affected, but seemingly not as much as he is. It doesn’t seem to affect his health, though it is quite unclear as his condition is treated as a family secret and I couldn’t get my hands on more. He was reportedly trained as a shinobi ever since he was four, presented around eleven or twelve as most did. Otherwise, my Lord…” 

Hikaku looked up from his papers. “Otherwise I have nothing.”

Madara stayed silent for a few moments, staring at his advisor, processing the information he’d just gotten. “That really is nothing.”

“I know, my Lord. I apologize.”

Madara shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “No need to apologize, I know you always do your best.”

Hikaku still looked distinctly uncomfortable and, after seemingly gathering some courage, he drew a little closer. “My Lord, if I may ask… what is this about? You never really told me.”

And it was true. Madara hadn’t. He’d only ranted and spat fire and fury at his advisor about his unruly Omega without sharing any details — it was only a matter of time until Hikaku began to wonder. 

Madara trailed his tongue between his teeth. Should he dare to explain? The shame about what happened during Tobirama’s heat was still very present, hot and biting in his stomach. Admitting to the events of those seven days seemed impossible. And there was still this ever present fear of people knowing ; knowing how he’d bowed and yielded, defeated. Made submissive by an Omega. How could he ever admit to that?

But Hikaku had been at his side ever since he could remember. They’d grown up together, the man with the all too familiar face a distant cousin and very dear to his heart, even if Madara had never told him so. Madara knew Hikaku would never tell someone, never judge him, even if he feared so — loyal to Madara and Madara only, even if he’d sometimes been a little too brash and demanding to the Beta. And yet… and yet Madara hesitated. 

And decided on something vague. Up for interpretation without it being too misleading and confusing. "Tobirama, he… is a rather dominant Omega."

Hikaku’s pensive frown deepened as he seemed to process the sentence. “That does seem rare, my Lord, but I don’t know how that could be such a problem with your assets.” He offered diplomatically. 

Madara snorted as he knew immediately the kind of Omega Hikaku thought of — the oneshe’d measured Tobirama up to at the beginning as well; confident, spoiled and demanding with little time for things other than finery and all luxurious things money could buy. Those did exist and weren’t too divorced from how the world works. They also fit into Madara’s worldview of how Omega’s should behave, because at the end of the day, they still bent over for their Alpha and mewled prettily and submissively in response to promises of diamonds if they’d let themselves be impregnated this time around. 

But Tobirama wasn’t like that. 

“No, it’s not that. Tobirama is…” Madara’s mouth twisted, “... very special.”

Hikaku must’ve noticed how delicate the subject was — he’d always been good at reading Madara’s moods — because he drew the papers closer to his chest, his expression sinking even deeper into contemplativeness. After a few moments of silence, he cleared his throat. 

“I see.” He said mutedly, “Again, I apologize that my intel wasn’t of high quality.”

And again, Madara could only sigh. “Go, Hikaku. Your work here is done.” 

His advisor wisely said nothing in answer, just bowed his head faintly and quietly left the study. Madara’s mood had sunk to a familiar low; telling someone he trusted about his predicament should’ve felt freeing, but it had done nothing of the sort. Instead, his heart felt even heavier, worry was gnawing at him even more and he thoughtlessly trailed the calluses on his hands with his eyes. 

What if Hikaku told someone? Madara didn’t think he would and even if he did, what would he say — but the thought didn’t seem to want to leave. This fear of being perceived as weak, as powerless, of being submissive even in the slightest of forms was seeping through Madara’s mind like the venom of a snake would through the bloodstream. 

“It’s all about keeping power for you, isn’t it?” Tobirama’s voice mocked him in his head. 

Of course it was, Madara thought angrily. Even if he’d never wasted his thoughts on it, of course it was all about keeping power. Tobirama had called it pathetic. Madara would call it survival. 

Who would he be, if not for his power? If he let it slip from his hands even for a moment? Madara certainly wouldn’t be a clan head and he certainly wouldn’t be able to provide for his family. He would be no one; he would be dead. He would’ve died a very long time ago, like some weak Alpha teenager with a slit throat, somewhere on the countless battlefields he’d been on in his life. This world was cruel and so he had to be more cruel — Madara was an Alpha, and that was his job; to protect, to provide, to lead. To be strong where others couldn’t be.

Power meant survival, especially for Alphas like Madara. How could Tobirama not see that?

And how dare he demand otherwise? How dare he demand change?

His rut was creeping closer, Madara knew that. 

He dreaded it, mainly because he was at a loss at what he should do. If he wanted to keep his good conscience, he couldn't go to Tobirama for relief. Not after the antagonizing and tense conversations they’d shared, in which Madara left feeling that his position as Alpha was disrespected. Sure, it would be easy; pussy was pussy. His rut mind wouldn’t exactly care who he knotted at the end of the day, as long as he got to. 

But that simply wasn’t an option. No matter what his dark, horny and yearning thoughts whispered to him late at night, when he couldn’t sleep — how good it would feel if he didn’t fight it, if he admitted it to himself that, never in his life, sex had ever been as amazing as the time he was forced to submit to a powerful Omega — he would go through his rut in some other way. 

Madara didn’t believe in infidelity. Some Alphas thought that having many Omegas at once made them seem virile and powerful, but he only thought it to be of poor taste. It wouldn’t cast a good light on him, so that wasn’t worth a thought either. 

He could go through his rut alone, which seemed to be the best alternative to the other, rather pathetic, options. It certainly wouldn’t be comfortable and it would leave him exhausted and irritated for some time afterwards, but it certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d done it. He’d gone through a solo rut many, many times before, in fact. So, silently, Madara had made up his mind. 

As the days went by, Madara was reminded again and again of the words Tobirama had said to him regarding his rut.

“You’ll come begging soon enough.”

Madara found that sentiment to be ridiculous, laughable and downright offensive when the Omega had first said it. But since then, Madara’s thoughts have had time to fester. He’d had time to process what exactly had happened during Tobirama’s heat in all its terrifying entirety — including all his feelings and reactions during it.  

Madara had been so confident afterward that it wouldn’t happen again. Not the way Tobirama had prophesied it. After being challenged and mocked so many times, there was absolutely no way he’d come begging an Omega to relieve his knot. 

No way. Right?

Chapter Text

VI.

There was literature and poems written about an Alpha’s rut, glorifying and fantastical, praising this biological function as the peak of virility and strength — of power and superiority. To sow the Alpha’s potent seed and create the next generation; what greater deed was there?

To Madara, it was all a bunch of shit. 

These kinds of texts were often written by delusional Betas with little self worth and respect for their designation or very sick Alphas who simply enjoyed a certain state of suffering and pain. Because that’s what rut was: suffering and pain. 

There was nothing enjoyable about hot sweats one minute, cold shakes the next. About loin cramps and painfully aching jaw and teeth. About a feverish state that was eerily similar to being drunk; losing control just enough for the rational part of your brain to sit and watch in horror. About uncontrollable, overwhelming lust — so barely containable that one had to put in all his willpower to not ravage the next unsuspecting Omega.

Omegas could bring relief, making the pain bearable and some moments of the rut even enjoyable. If it came to it, even female Betas were suitable to spend a rut with an Alpha, though they had to be quite sturdy and enduring; otherwise they’d have to tap out after a day or two. 

Spending a rut alone meant utter misery. Madara knew that. And, compared to the consequences other possibilities could bring, it was still the better option.

He’d felt it creeping up for a day or two now, an all familiar feeling lingering underneath his skin and crawling up his neck. He was aggressive and snappy, people avoided being around him, except for Hikaku, who was always quite brave in the face of his anger. Izuna, Madara hadn’t seen for at least two days — his brother always vanished as soon as he knew Madara’s rut came up, and Madara knew it was because he feared him whenever he lost control.

Madara would think it was sad, if he didn’t have other responsibilities and more important things on his mind. Izuna would survive.

But Madara himself… he wasn’t so sure. Because he felt terrible.

A deep grunt escaped his throat as he gripped the edge of his desk, Hikaku awkwardly standing by and patiently waiting out the wave of cramps Madara was experiencing. They'd actually been working on trade contacts with the Nara, but they hadn't come very far.

“My Lord, if I may…” Hikaku began. 

The scowl Madara threw at Hikaku made the latter pause. He already knew what his advisor was about to say. But even the silent warning didn’t stop Hikaku from saying the obvious.

“My Lord, if I may,” Hikaku repeated, a little more carefully this time, “I think that your rut has either already started or is about to. You should retreat to your quarters.”

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?!” Madara bit out before breathing deeply in an attempt to calm himself. 

He did feel feverish, his loins were aching and his teeth already begged to be buried in soft flesh. Madara knew that he should’ve stayed in his quarters when he woke up this
morning, but there was simply too much to do — and maybe facing this rut did scare him, even if he’d never admit to it.

Though being in denial and ignoring the issue at hand only got him so far. The rut would come either way — scratch that — it was already here. As if on cue, his teeth began hurting so badly a weak moan escaped his lips. 

“My Lord!” 

Hikaku was immediately at his side, hand on Madara’s back. “Shall I accompany you to your quarters?”

Bless him , Madara thought, but that was probably the wrong thing to say because the primal part of his brain was perfectly happy to read things in harmless, innocent conversations. 

“Hikaku.” He mumbled under his breath, “I know you feel… safe because you’re a Beta and a male. But I think it would be best if you leave. Now.”

Because if it really came down to it, Alphas didn’t care for gender and designation in times of need; as long as there was a hole to bury their cock and knot, and said hole didn't belong to another Alpha. Perhaps Hikaku had forgotten, after so many years at Madara’s side, only witnessing him when he was perfectly in control — even in the face of a rut. But this time around it was different. 

Everything seemed different as of late. 

Madara looked up from his hunched state, meeting Hikaku’s wide and startled gaze, which was a mistake. 

Because Hikaku, for a Beta male, was quite beautiful. Soft looking, with his long hair that perfectly framed a face that never quite lost its youthfulness with large, dark eyes and a pouty mouth and — fuck. 

“ Go. NOW!” Madara barked with all the willpower he had left. Because if his childhood best friend stayed any longer, Madara might do something he’d regret. 

Hikaku, finally taking the hint, swallowed heavily and retreated from the room in long strides. And when the door fell shut Madara toppled over, squatting near the floor and burying a hand in his hair.

There was no more denying it. His rut was here.

The further his legs carried him towards his quarters, the more Madara knew he was absolutely fucked. 

Rut was bad in of itself, but he'd never felt this out of control and never this soon either — something was seriously wrong and fear was slowly making its way up his throat at the knowledge that he couldn't do anything about it. It would happen, whatever it was. Soon, rationality would clip out and what would be left is his primal hindbrain, ready to breed whatever seemed fertile to him; hopefully Tobirama would stay within his quarters at the other end of the estate. 

Madara was staggering, hot flashes already so prominent that thick droplets of sweat gathered his forehead and on his nape. He barely made it through the doors of his bedroom before sinking to the floor, muscle cramps rattling his body and a gurgling grunt escaping from deep within his lungs. 

What was happening?! Never before had a rut been truly this bad — he practically felthis self-control slipping through his fingers, as if he tried to carry water with spread hands. What could’ve caused this? What had his hormones so shaken up? Tobirama—

Tobirama.  

As if bitten once again a phantom pain shot through his mating bite and with a throaty yelp Madara buried his hand into the fresh scars, as if to protect himself from what had already happened. 

Of course, this damned Omega again. Madara should’ve known that something truly hadn’t been right with him. How he behaved—

The bite— raw, messy, gorey — 

Tobirama. The Omega, the Omega, theOmegatheOmegathe—

Consciousness faded.

The memories of him stalking through the estate were gone entirely. Because the first thing Madara remembered was him standing in front of unfamiliar doors — doors that did not belong to his quarters. There was nothing rational about it. This was all the Alpha inside of him — greedy for soft flesh and sex to ease the pain, and the demanding urge to breed. And sure, if an Alpha really tried, they were able to get ahold of themselves, at least for long enough to gain distance from people with which the rational part of their brain would be too horrified to be with otherwise.

But Madara had felt like he was on the brink of losing it for weeks now; if someone had asked him what the consequences of losing control would’ve been, he wouldn’t have been able to give a proper answer. He’d been like a bow that had been held taut too long, a rope stretched too far — to finally break apart with a snap. 

The snap was here and now. The snap was his rut. And the consequence, apparently…

The Alpha inside Madara just couldn’t get over how otherworldly beautiful Tobirama was. Unlike anyone he’d ever seen before — captivating in a way he couldn’t explain, wouldn’t  be able to find the words to. A literal, indescribable beauty. But laid beneath… 

Tobirama was a poisonous flower, beautiful yet deadly. A demon: seducing and corrupting. 

“Welcome, Alpha.” He purred, a broad and playful smirk on his face.

And it was over. 

Tobirama pulled Madara inside by his collar, immediately stepping so close into the Alpha’s space that Madara found it difficult to hold his urge to just dive into that Omega. 

“I knew you’d come, I just fucking knew it.” Tobirama breathed roughly against his cheek, hot breath tingling over Madara’s skin, sending a shudder down his spine.

The Omega smelled divine. Madara wanted to choke on that wildflower scent, bury his nose so deep in that neck that he’d come out of it scent-drunk. With that, the last rational part of him the rut hadn’t taken from him was gone. It was crazy, it was intense, Madara thought he was losing his damn mind, and right now he didn’t even care. He only cared about one thing. 

“Omega.” He rumbled from deep within his chest, more of a grunt than a proper word. Pawing at Tobirama’s hips that were still way too clothed in his opinion. 

Tobirama clicked his tongue dismissively, stepping away and loosening the grip around him. It made Madara’s heart sink; the Alpha in him wasn’t particularly smart during a rut and was now wondering what he'd done wrong to displease the Omega. 

“Preposterous that I have to repeat myself, Alpha, because I’m fairly certain we’ve established this the last time already.” He said coldly, crossing his arms. 

The flickering lights of candles illuminated the room just enough to see everything clearly — Tobirama had made a cozy space from the usually cold, detached quarters — though the shadows dancing on the Omega’s face made his features even more stern and scornful. Madara swallowed, his hands twitching at his sides as he tried not to rush forward in the urge to fuckfuckfuck, claimclaimclaim. 

“We do this my way.” Tobirama spoke. 

A beat of silence, then another, a third — a small part in Madara’s brian saw it coming, but still he could’ve never put into words what came next —

“Kneel.”

Even through the haze of the rut, through the lack of self-control, through the horniness and lust and desperate yearning, Madara should’ve put a stop to it then and there. Should’ve growled and threatened, should’ve left the room, affronted and disgusted that an Omega could even demand such a thing, could even say such a thing. He was an Alpha! 

Madara’s knees hit the ground so hard it would bruise.

There’d been nothing he could’ve done about it. Nothing at all. It was like the Omega’s command had bewitched him to obey and nothing he could do about it, be it mentally or physically, would’ve been of any use. Not that he’d really tried to. 

Madara stared up at Tobirama and, instead of feeling humiliated, the only thought going through his rut-drunk brain was how right it looked from down here. The Omega, atop. Him, at the bottom… how mad had he become?

A smile broke through the coldness in Tobirama’s face and finally, finally, he stepped closer, extending a hand that found Madara’s cheek. The hand was large, rough and calloused. Madara felt the roughness of those shinobi hands as the other’s thumb stroked back the sweat-sticky hair on his cheekbone, but it felt right and good — the hand was warm, but not hot, strangely speaking of safety. 

“Good Alpha,” Tobirama praised quietly, “It’s always been this easy, you understand that, don’t you? If you continue being good, I let you fuck me. That does sound good, doesn’t it?”

“Please.” Madara choked out, his mouth feeling numb as if  the insides of his cheeks were stuffed with cotton. He wanted to bury his knot deep inside that Omega’s pussy and he’d do anything to get there. 

Tobirama nodded quietly, his thoughtful, calculating eyes remaining on Madara’s face for a few more minutes before he pulled his hand back. Madara mourned the warmth that went with the Omega, who now walked towards the spacious bed, sitting down as he began undressing himself.

At the first glance of creamy skin and broad shoulders, Madara’s jaw began aching terribly again; in the dim light he could see his own bite on the Omega’s neck. Out of his rut, he was ashamed of it, not even daring to look at it even though Tobirama flaunted it. Now he didn’t quite know what he was so afraid, so embarrassed about.


The bite was small and not very impressive, that much was true. But it was his. Madara’s claim on Tobirama’s skin — the most beautiful, fierce and untouchable Omega in the whole continent, he was sure. And to imagine how many Alpha’s must’ve tried to get their claim on this man’s neck before, just for Madara to triumph again…

Madara squeezed his hand to stop the mindless urge to get up and stumble towards his mate, only barely able to hold back. The Omega hadn’t said that he could move, had he? And if he did something to displease his Omega, that would make him bad; that could mean he didn't get to spend his rut with him. And so Madara swallowed down the urgency that was clawing at his insides, waiting patiently and anxiously for what was to come. 

Tobirama had finished undressing, sitting comfortably on the bed in all his naked glory, looking down towards Madara, amusement tugging at his lips. The Omega was all perfectly sculpted muscle, smooth skin, except for a few scars here and there that marked him as a shinobi; strong arms, full pectorals that one day would hold the milk for Madara’s pups. A flat, muscular, stomach that would eventually swell with his children. 

Those thoughts alone made Madara whine a little. 

Tobirama laughed a little under his breath. “Yes, yes, you’ve been good. You didn’t move because I didn’t say that you could, didn’t you?”

Madara didn’t quite know how to respond, so he just nodded jerkily, once. 

“Alright. Then I won’t be too cruel. Come here—” Tobirama said and as Madara began straightening himself, he spoke up again, “Ah, ah! And I want to see you crawl, little Alpha.”

The thing was, at this point Madara didn’t even think about it too much anymore — too far gone in his rut. Following the Omega’s commands not only meant that he’d get rewarded in the end, but it also made him feel strangely good. 

Usually, his ruts all went the same. If he went through them alone, he was in for at least three days of absolute horny torture that left him with a stiff wrist and sore dick. When he spent them with someone else, he just fucked the Omega into the bedding, bit, clawed, and woke on the third day feeling satisfied, but hollow. And during all of it he couldn’t stop thinking: about how he was wasting these three days, about how he was neglecting his responsibilities for his clan. About how inconvenient this all was for him. 

But now?

Now he found himself kneeling in front of a bed and in between an Omega’s legs, tongue deep in his mate’s pussy and Madara's mind was absolutely empty. 

The only thing that mattered in his primitive, rut-drunk brain was the noises the Omega emitted when he was doing a particularly good job. As his tongue curled around the clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot shortly after, he was rewarded with a harsh tug to his hair and a downright wail. 

Tobirama had never wailed for him before. And so, encouraged by this, he continued, licking the Omega’s slick from in between his folds like it was the best treat he’d ever received. His knot was aching painfully by now, desperate for relief, but Madara’s Alpha felt like he had to service the Omega first. 

Which seemed to be a correct assumption because as Tobirama came all over his face, hot cum streaking on his cheeks and forehead, he grunted: “Good Alpha.”

Even from a kneeling position, sweaty with his cheeks red, Tobirama looked breathtaking. Madara couldn’t look away, mesmerized by the sight. Tobirama caught his gaze, a smirk beginning to form on his face as he grabbed Madara’s chin, tilting his head up a little further. 

“Aren’t you beautiful like this?” rumbled Tobirama, his own eyes a little glazed over from pleasure, “I knew you would be. From the very first time we met, I dreamed of having you on your knees. Such a beautiful Alpha. And I know you like this, too, it’s such a shame that you deny yourself such pleasures. But I understand. It’s hard to admit such things, isn’t it?”

He then began pulling a little, nudging Madara to get up and join him on the bed, which he did. Eagerly, too, because at this point he was in pain, his knot aching to finally swell.

“Don’t worry,” continued Tobirama as he lied back, Madara desperately clawing at his own remaining clothes so as to get them off as quickly as possible, already positioning himself between the Omega’s legs — he was allowed, he was allowed, finallyfinallyfinally — “We’ll get you there.”

Madara fucked Tobirama with reverence and dedication, with the Omega’s hand on his throat more often than not. Sometimes, the Omega squeezed a little in warning if Madara was about to overstep, which drove Madara’s inner Alpha absolutely insane with lust; something about knowing hisOmega could violently throw him off at any moment and ride him like a ragdoll as did in his heat, did very funny things with his brain. 

It came so far that he just buried his head in Tobirama’s neck, hands on the Omega’s hips as his cock slid in and out of the tight heat all the while the other man’s strong fingers pressed into the skin of his neck and throat and Madara just whined desperately. It was automatic and couldn’t have been held back even if he’d wanted to. 

“It’s alright, Alpha.” Tobirama had whispered breathily into his ear,  and so quietly Madara could think he was imagining things, “It’s alright. It’s just us here. Let go. It’s just us.”

And he had. He really had let go after that. After he finally knotted Tobirama, the pressure finally went away; it was like something in him had snapped; he practically blacked out. He didn’t remember much after that, only glimpses in between all of the cramps, the sweats and the rut-drunken haze.

Memories of a strong hand pulling his hair, of desperate knotting and in between, somewhere, sloppy kisses — of feeling vulnerable, but strangely safe, too. 

Madara, after what seemed to be a deep sleep, woke up abruptly. Enough so that it felt like ice water being suddenly dumped on him.

He was lying on his back, staring at the wooden ceiling, the soft daylight of an early morning creeping into the room. He could only think about the sound of his heartbeat in his ears — a constant, heavy thump echoing through his mind —, the oxygen flooding his lungs after each breath and the aching of his muscles. He felt… surprisingly okay for having had such an intense rut and he blinked, once, twice. What day was it? He wondered idly.

As he laid there, motionless, memories came flooding back in, little by little until he finally apprehended the whole picture as to what happened the past two, or three days. 

He clenched his hands and swallowed heavily, remembering all the things he did, all the things he said. How he submitted, once again, to an Omega, to Tobirama, after swearing to himself that it would never happen again. And a gnawing, heavy, feeling opened up in his chest as he tried to get angry at himself and at Tobirama for doing this again, but he simply couldn’t.

Madara couldn’t. It would’ve been quite ridiculous to be angry, to snap and snarl at Tobirama once again, when this time around it was all his own fault. When Tobirama had his heat and Madara got sucked into that madness, it was easy to shift blame onto the Omega and to declare him insane, unnatural. And to be furious for being treated the way Tobirama had treated him. 

But now? Madara was a proud man, a superior Alpha to most, he wouldn’t be so pathetic as to, once again, fault Tobirama for this. This was all on him. There lies  the problem. 

He must’ve wanted this, deep down. Despite all his vehemence and his disgust towards this strange and perverted dynamic, he must’ve wanted it. Otherwise the rut-drunk Alpha inside of him would’ve never sought Tobirama out, as it was very clear how it would’ve ended after all. Otherwise he would’ve left when the Omega commanded him to kneel. Otherwise he would’ve just asked Hikaku to stay; because if he’d asked the Beta to be his rut partner, Hikaku would’ve done it without hesitation, even if it had meant three rough and painful days for him.

I must’ve wanted this. 

I want this. 

And suddenly, Madara couldn’t stand to lay there anymore, faintly aware of Tobirama’s warm body next to him. A quick glance to the side and it was confirmed; the Omega laid there, softly sleeping in midst of pillows and blankets Madara must’ve pushed away from himself when asleep. He looked so peaceful then, with his features evened out instead of drawn together, as they usually were whenever he was talking to Madara.

Madara had to get away. With aching muscles, he pushed himself from Tobirama’s  bed, hastily putting on his gathered clothes on the floor, strangely anxious he’d wake Tobirama in the process. Madara just wasn’t ready for that conversation yet, with his walls down; feeling vulnerable and exposed like he hadn’t in a long, long time.  

And so he fled, once again.

Uchiha Madara, Alpha clan head of the Uchiha, one of the most powerful shinobi in all of the fire nation.

When had he become such a coward?

Madara managed to go a week without speaking or really seeing Tobirama.

The first couple of days, he told himself that he simply wasn’t ready for the confrontation yet — everyone seemed to notice that something wasn’t right , as Madara came out of the rut more aggressive than ever. Somehow, he couldn’t deal with his uncle’s stupid questions, the servant’s fuck ups and Izuna’s constant rude behavior, while he was dealing with this stupid identity crisis in his head. 

Madara was an Alpha. He wasn’t allowed to like whatever happened during the rut. And that  alone made him abrasive to the point even Hikaku started to reprimand him. 

“My Lord, I don’t know what happened during your rut, but I don’t see why you should let it out on me.”

Madara had swallowed his anger down after that. But after he’d told himself that he couldn’t be angry with Tobirama anymore, his wrath had to go somewhere. 

To Tobirama’s credit, he was keeping to himself and never crossed the temporary line Madara had drawn; even though he saw the Omega from afar at times, their gazes catching, Tobirama never crossed that boundary. Which made Madara even more confused, even more angry.

Madara was marching through a less frequented part of the estate on the seventh day after his rut, furious again about something that didn’t even matter, turning a corner when he heard a soft, pitiful noise from further ahead. Stopping in his tracks he stood and listened; people were talking, softly, one clearly tearful and upset. 

Confused and suspicious, Madara continued walking, more quietly this time. It could’ve been just two servants talking and pouring their hearts out. He got closer to the room the noises came from, discovering that the shoji door was only slightly ajar, but enough to get a clear view. 

Madara almost burst through the door then and there. 

In the room, Tobirama and Izuna stood closely entwined, no space in between them. Tobirama’s back was towards the door and Madara could see how he softly stroked over his younger brother’s back, emitting shushing noises into the other’s ear as Izuna’s head was buried in the Omega’s neck, his whole body shaking and rattling from pitiful, deep sobs.

It sounded more than upsetting. Izuna hadn’t even cried this much when their last sibling died. 

Madara stumbled back, fury and helpless confusion shooting through his body, unsure at what to do.

What in all the Kami was going on?!

Chapter Text

VII.

In the end, Madara had managed to tear himself away. 

Away from this strange scenery that he’d witnessed, a situation clearly no one was meant to see —  a private moment shared in one of the many empty rooms in the estate. Made for a large family, that in the end never existed. 

And Madara tried to make sense of it, he really did. Tried hard to have the benefit of the doubt. It was true that he’d never seen his brother and Tobirama interact before, but he never quite knew what Tobirama, or his brother for that matter, was up to, as he avoided keeping any sort of track. That was on him. And granted, Tobirama was technically a part of the noble Uchiha main family now, even if it was through marriage. It wasn’t forbidden for him to engage in conversation with Izuna, it would be ridiculous if he wouldn’t, quite frankly. 

But what reason was there for them to be this close? When had they gotten this close?

What Madara had seen wasn’t friendly conversation between brother-in-laws that barely knew each other. The picture seemed to stick to Madara’s mind like fresh resin; his brother lying in Tobirama’s arms, open and unafraid, clearly distraught — Tobirama soothing him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. They seemed familiar. Intimate. 

Were they having an affair?

His brother, a Beta, sought out by Tobirama? Seeking out Tobirama himself?

Tobirama had made it very clear that he had needs, he’d told Madara so. And Uchiha pups tended to look the same… how would Madara even be able to tell?

Madara swallowed against the knot blind fury in his throat, feeling his heartbeat resonate in his tightly closed fists. 

He shouldn’t judge too soon, a voice of rationality whispered in the back of his head, his rut hadn’t been that long ago and he begrudgingly admitted that was feeling vulnerable. Again, because of what had happened with Tobirama. 

But could he temporarily ignore what he’d seen in favor of having time to think? Of gaining enough distance with his emotions to regain proper rationality, given the rawness of his mental state? Perhaps then he would find a logical conclusion — the harmless piece of the puzzle that he was currently missing.

A good Alpha should. And could. 

And so Madara swallowed his anger down. He’d felt like nothing but a failure as an Alpha these past months and it was time to regain a spine, if not for his own peace of mind.

And yet despite telling himself that he wouldn’t spend that much mental capacity on Tobirama, his brother, his brother and Tobirama, Madara’s mind wandered back again and again. 

What happened during his rut just seemed unbanishable from his mind. Never in his life had he ever behaved this way, this submissive , until Tobirama came along. And why should he have, he was an Alpha after all: it was his job to have control, to lead — to show strength and be the singular most powerful person of the clan. His people looked up to him for guidance and expected leadership. It was the nature of things and something he was meant to do ever since he’d been born. So why?

Why did it feel good?

Why did it feel good to kneel? To give control up? Shameful as it was, emasculating as it was, recalling those hazy, patchy memories from his rut never failed to send a shiver down Madara’s spine. 

But recall, a voice inside him whispered one day, as he was contemplating his rut for what must’ve been the hundredth time, recall how everytime you had sex you felt unfulfilled, just a little. How every mewling and submissive Omega you fucked left you disappointed, feeling hollow in your heart. And you never knew why, didn’t you? You didn’t even question it. Ignored me, as if I was never there, but I’ve always been. Recall, recall…

When was the last time you slept that good, like after Tobirama’s heat, after your rut?

And Madara had swallowed at that, the thought of… this side of him always having existed horrifying and jarring, making him feel nauseous in a way he couldn’t describe. He didn’t want to think about it, but he had to — the distress never fading. 

How could this have happened? How did he end up this way?

Your carrier died when giving birth to Izuna… You were small yourself, then.

Your father died when you were seventeen and with no other siblings to step up as clan head, you had to…

And Madara quietly agreed that yes, he’d had large amounts of responsibilities from a very young age, but that wasn’t anything particularly unusual. The life of a shinobi always had blows of fate and given the circumstances, Madara did well for himself and the clan. It all could’ve been so much worse; he’d always been fed, always had a roof over his head, never really been cold in the winter. So what if he’d had the weight of the Uchiha clan on his shoulders?

It was no excuse to grow to be such a deviant. 

And yet, here he was. Realizing that letting go brought him relief, that giving up control to an Omega, of all designations, had made him feel better than anything he’d ever felt before. What happiness felt like… he couldn’t quite say, but that soft, cotton feeling in his head — akin to drunkenness but so, so much better — when Tobirama had stroked over his cheek, called him good … perhaps that came close. 

Madara always came to think about such things when the busy work from the day was done and the estate laid silent in the darkness, nothing brightening his private chambers but a few candles. He stared into the small flame, bright, yellow and white, flickering miniscule to the left and right. 

He’d never thought that at his age, he’d come to rediscover himself. It didn’t make him particularly happy, quite the opposite; just because he’d now been forced to acknowledge that yes, this was his reality, this was him, it didn’t make it any less shameful. Any less unacceptable. It made it all even worse. 

Realization was one thing. Giving into these urges was another. No one was without flaws and perhaps this was his; and so he’d have to fight it, day in and day out, not to fall victim to his flaw. Madara doubted he was fixable, but he certainly hoped he could live without, like before. He’d done fine before. 

Why not let yourself be happy? The voice whispered, cruel and curious. It clearly makes you happy, you know it does. Why deny yourself?

Madara suffocated the voice, suppressed it and shoved it back deep down into his mind before he could think ‘I don’t deserve to.’

And so Madara quiets his head effectively by burying himself in his responsibilities. He even had the perfect excuse to — a lot of his mental capacity had been spent on Tobirama and his current situation, which meant that his daily tasks had suffered a little under it. Madara quickly rectified this by canceling Tobirama from his thoughts completely. 

And it worked. At least for about three weeks.

Which was when Madara stumbled over a curious document that a member of the council of elders angrily flicked onto his table after having requested a meeting. 

“Your Omega is putting ridiculous and dangerous ideas into our Omega’s heads.” The old Alpha had said, discontent very clear not only in his tone, but also in the grimace on his wrinkled face, “Now my granddaughter wants to study medicine and train under the medical response team! I’ve already set her up for potential courtships and now she’s rejecting the idea of it almost entirely! Preposterous!”

Madara had looked at the seemingly innocuous document, just one paper long, contents precise, short and sweet, no unnecessarily flowery language, impossible to misunderstand and with no loopholes to be found.

A document allowing the clan’s Omega’s to seek higher education. Allowing them to train and exercise professions and trades previously barred for them — almost nothing was left untouched. Almost no rules left in place. 

Madara looked at the lines and the inky black signature underneath them and instead of the usual anger there was only resignation. 

“I will talk to him.” He’d said diplomatically in response.

“See that you do, Madara-sama,” the elder had hissed, “Or otherwise we’ll find our clan’s morals and values going downhill sooner than later! This is a scandal in itself. But it’s nothing a firm hand cannot fix.”

The implication had been clear.

The Madara that had freshly married Tobirama, the brisk and cruel Alpha still basking from his victory over Hashirama, would’ve agreed. Would’ve gotten furious on the elders behalf, would’ve personally seen the granddaughter being married and would’ve effectively put an end to the silly idea of becoming a medic nin. And Omega being a medic nin — it would’ve sounded like the beginning of a crude and terrible jest to him. 

But things had changed since then. His mind had been opened to the cheer potential an Omega could have; and maybe that was the reason Madara didn’t really have it in him to actually be scandalized by the document. No, instead an annoyance spread. Yet another thing that was passed over him by Tobirama, cunningly and cleverly done. And now Madara didn’t have a choice but to talk to him about it.

It seemed like there was no escaping him. 

“What is this?”

Tobirama looked up from his literature at Madara’s question, which he’d, for once, asked calmly after approaching his husband in the library. 

Red eyes flicked from Madara’s eyes downward, then back to the book in his hands. 

“Surely you can read, husband.”

Madara prayed for patience. He already felt uncomfortable in Tobirama’s presence — vulnerable, mostly, but Madara knew of his tendency to lash out when provoked, when feeling unsure. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes over and over again; that would only speak of low intelligence. And so he had to remain calm in the face of Tobirama's aloofness. 

“I’m asking you kindly not to be this standoffish now.” Madara managed as politely as he could, “I’m giving you a chance to explain yourself: what is this?”

Tobirama sighed as if this conversation was a terrible inconvenience and as if it had been held ten times over already. He closed the book, cocking his head towards Madara. 

“As per this document, Omegas of the Uchiha clan are empowered to seek higher education as well as exercise most professions. Before you get too worked up about it, dear husband, let me remind you that all responsibilities regarding Omegas fell towards me when we married.”

It was true. In most traditional clans, with marriage all matters of concern regarding the clan’s Omega population fell towards the Omega spouse; it was a way of appeasing the Omegas in the marriages, to give them the feeling of being reasonably important and needed, to show them they weren’t there just there to be a mother or a doll for decoration and aesthetic. Even though that was mostly the case. 

This practice now came biting Madara back, as he should’ve known that Tobirama would actually do something with this power. Madara stared at his husband’s ever so stoic face for a few long moments before sighing, deflating. Looking at the paper and then looking back at him.

“Listen,” he began slowly, holding his voice calm and steady, “I understand that you have this… need to be contrary , alright? I understand it now. You have a point to prove and I freely admit, here and now, that this point has been driven home. I may have been too… forceful in the beginning, I see this now.”

Madara shook his head slightly.

“But why do you have to always go this far?” He shook the piece of paper, “Omegas in trade? In medicine? A clan elder has said his granddaughter wants to pursue the medic corps. How is this in any shape or form helpful, if it only ruffles the feathers of our clan elders and gives Omegas false hope?! Or do you seriously think that Omegas will be freely welcomed in higher education, in every profession you so generously allowed them to insert themselves in?”

Tobirama narrowed his eyes, his face contorted into a dissatisfied frown — almost immediately the expression sent a cold shiver down Madara’s spine. 

“Contrary.” He repeated lowly, before straightening himself, his voice raised, “It seems like you have misunderstood my intention with this document, husband. This is most certainly not about contrarianism, though it is a nice bonus, I admit.”

He snatched the document out of Madara’s hand before Madara could react. “ This, ” he said seriously “is for the betterment of this clan. For this clan, our clan to thrive, to reach a new found glory no other clan has ever reached, ever dreams of reaching.”

Madara frowned, not understanding where Tobirama was going, but he found himself strangely willing to hear him out. 

“We Omegas have been suppressed ever since designations began to exist. Never did anyone spare us a closer look to see our sheer potential, only viewing us as mere objects for reproduction and status. You know me. And you will know countless others like me if you’d just open your moronic, limited eyes. Would you truly rob the Uchiha clan of this potential? Of the potential to let the workforce, the academics grow by at least quarter of its current number? The Uchiha clan is a larger clan already, with many talented people working on its success, but imagine more of them.”

Tobirama leaned closer. “Imagine indisputable dominance over the entire Fire nation. Because with this—” he shook the paper, “I can guarantee you that the Uchiha will manifest themselves into legend, surpassing mere decades. One would be a downright fool to pass on this oppertunity.”

Madara was left speechless. He comprehended what Tobirama was saying — he’d just never thought about it this way. And the more the words sunk in, the more they made sense, even if a part of him still very much rejected this alien idea of Omegas working alongside Alphas and Betas. 

His silence must’ve been damning, as Tobirama raised his chin smugly. 

“So you do understand.” He stated if not a little mockingly, “Perfect. So there’s nothing more to discuss.”

Madara sighed, frustrated that despite all the good reasonings, Tobirama wouldn’t see the reality of things. “You will have to justify this. This is at your own risk. I won’t be held responsible if this fails as spectaciously as I fear it will.”

“It won’t.” Tobirama brushed him off, “But naturally I will.”

Madara was, once again, out of words. He’d promised himself that he’d remain steadfast and vigilant, but Tobirama had, once again, managed to disarm him, making him bow to his will. It seemed like no matter how hard Madara tried to resist, Tobirama made his walls crumble like it was nothing. 

“Fine.” He finally pressed out, leaving Tobirama where he was.

Madara couldn’t sleep. 

No matter how often he tossed and turned, adjusting pillows and blankets, he just wouldn’t get tired — staring into the darkness of the night, thoughts roaming freely in his head. Three or four days it’s been like this, with him finally falling asleep sometime during the morning hours, exhausted and forced to get up only one or two hours after.

He felt like shit. 

And on top of that, his thoughts at night were of dangerous nature. Madara usually never had this much time to spare to just think, to indulge in his mind’s strange musings and it led him down dangerous paths. Paths of yielding, of submission. Paths he had originally denied himself. But in those dark hours he found himself making compromises with his consciousness; if I do this once, then maybe… then I could…

He saw shapes in the dark, tracing the angular, dark lines of a wardrobe, feeling wrecked and desperate, when his body finally seemed to move on his own. Getting up from the bed and walking out of his room, down the many, many hallways.

Knocking on a familiar door before he could stop himself — before his rationality could put an end to this action born out of exhaustion and deep, gnawing want. 

It didn’t seem like Tobirama expected him, like he had the times before. The cool severity in his face lifted a little as he recognized who’d been disturbing his sleep at such a late hour; with immediate interest the Omega cocked his head, regarding Madara with a calculating stare — not saying anything, waiting for Madara to state his want. 

But Madara couldn’t get a single word out. Under the heavy cloak of the night his words seemed to have been swallowed up, suffocated before they could even reach his tongue; still too ashamed to admit what he wanted, too humiliated by this side of himself to actually beg for it, even if he was sure that it would please the Omega very much. 

And so the silence stretched, for many uncomfortable moments. The longer it took for Madara to say something, the more difficult it seemed to become, the crucial admittance growing into an indomitable, gargantuan task. 

Kami, he couldn’t even properly look Tobirama in the eyes. But when he did, from underneath his lashes, swallowing against the heavy stone in his throat he felt raw, vulnerable — like Tobirama tended to make him feel. His pride hated it so much, fearing cruel rejection. 

And Tobirama in all his wisdom and foresight seemed to recognize that. That Madara simply couldn’t. Couldn’t ask for it, couldn’t admit it. Couldn’t beg for it, not like this, without biological inhibitions to blame. So for once, the Omega decided to be kind, in his way — for Madara’s sake.

“Come in, Alpha.” He said, without smugly demanding to know what Madara wanted, even if it was so very clear. 

Without tearing at his ego, this time around. But the way he said Alpha made Madara realize that Tobirama knew what this was about. There was a freeing alleviation in his chest, a stone lifted and it that finally allowed him to lift his head, stepping over the threshold. 

Tobirama’s hand found Madara’s cheek as soon as the door closed, eyes tracing the features on his face with a thoughtful undertone. 

“You need me to tell you, don’t you? You cannot say it.”

Not even a ‘yes’ he was able to utter, as Madara simply nodded, heat rising to his cheeks as he felt the warm hand cupping it. 

“Hm.” Tobirama acknowledged, “But you will be a good boy for me regardless, won’t you?”

It wasn’t really a question and Madara knew it wasn’t, as they both surely knew the answer.

How Tobirama could still be so soft with a body strong, taut and full of muscles was a thing of silent appreciation and amazement to Madara. 

He’d indeed been very good so far that night and he was allowed to touch: his warm palms tracing Tobirama’s waist and hips slowly, applying soft pressure onto the pale skin. Smooth and pillowy it slid against the sharp callouses of his hands and Madara almost felt unworthy to touch. A thought outlandish and strange if he’d thought it a mere few months ago and yet, here, it seemed so true. 

Tobirama rode his cock with a slow, yet powerful determination, a position he seemed to favor. His cheeks pink and his lips parted in pleasure the superior smugness never left his features as he did a particularly vigorous roll of his hips that sent the continuous stimulation of Madara’s cock into a blinding spike — not being able to help himself, he threw his head back, a raspy moan escaping his lips. 

He may not have been a regular Omega, but he was one indeed, as Tobirama’s body felt divine in Madara’s hands. As much as he wanted to hate his weakness, the fact that he yielded to this strange, deviant desire within himself, he couldn’t, not with the way he felt right now.

“Good Alpha,” Tobirama praised breathlessly, a hand finding Madara’s wrist, “for coming to me with your needs, even if you felt unsure. I told you we’ll get you there.”

Madara should’ve felt furious at that. Betrayed, manipulated. There generally were a lot of ifs and buts, shoulds and shouldn’ts. Yet, none of it seemed to matter anymore, instead the praise went straight to his head and he whimpered, rather pathetically too. When he dared to open his eyes to glance at Tobirama, tall, naked and glorious above him, the other smirked as if he’d won an arduous battle. 

Tobirama was a vision, as he always was, but no one got to see him like this, except for Madara; stripped, covered in a sheen of sweat, his crimson eyes lidded and hazy in pure lust, his hair curling damply, though nonetheless beautifully, around his neck and shoulders. He looked like something straight out of every Alpha’s exotic dream — the perfect Omega, a gift, divine, from the Gods above. Sent by Amaterasu herself. Madara had already thought so the very first time he’d laid eyes onto Tobirama, then still so foolish as to what was awaiting him. 

Regret, regret… there was none. Helplessly, as if letting himself fall backwards from a cliff to plunge into the wild currents of the sea, Madara slid into defeated, warm acceptance. And to his own surprise it didn’t feel like failure, like something utterly shameful , even though he knew it should’ve. Instead he felt relieved. 

“Please—” He gasped, unable to tear his gaze away. 

“Hm,” Tobirama emitted in response as if he was thinking, a smile curling onto his lips. 

The Omega leaned forward until they almost laid chest to chest, placing wet kisses all along Madara’s jaw before smoothly trailing down toward his neck, biting and nibbling. His ministrations of Madara’s cock never seized, the Alpha briefly amazed at the other’s stamina, yet only moments away from losing his mind. He’d been holding himself back from coming for a long time already and he barely could stand it anymore. 

Tobirama must’ve sensed this as he simply commanded: “Knot me, Alpha.”

There was no way Madara could’ve resisted it, not that he’d tried in any shape or form. He came with a long, desperate moan, shivers wrecking his body as his knot caught the Omega’s hole, tying them together effectively as nature intended. Orgasm bliss flooded his brain as he let it happen, his head falling back onto the pillow, feeling how his cock pulsated in the tight heat, pumping his seed into Tobirama.

Tobirama in his own right grunted into Madara’s neck, coming himself as the knot surely put pressure onto his prostate. And so they laid there for a while, catching their breaths, Tobirama busying himself by putting a love bite onto Madara’s skin just underneath his ear. 

After a few moments, the Omega whispered into his ear;

“I have celebratory news, Alpha.”

Tobirama sounded giddy, elevated, as he’d purred it. His hot breath tingled against the shell of his ear and Madara shivered as he anticipated, uncertain whatever Tobirama had to say.

“I’m with child.”

Madara gasped silently, air flooding into his lungs as he processed what had just been said suddenly very alert. Tobirama— pregnant. The Omega above him was pregnant, there was a pup, maybe even multiple pups growing in him right now. He loosened the grip around the other’s hips and in a burst of joy and elevation and a strange, unidentifiable, overwhelming feeling, slung his arms around the other’s back, pulling him even closer, which caused Tobirama to emit a giggle. 

And yet, despite all the happiness, despite the sheer surprise as Tobirama snuggled against him, scent marking him to an excessive degree, a cruel, painful voice inside Madara couldn’t help but wonder…

Is it mine?

Or is it Izuna’s?

Chapter Text

VIII.

“I–” Madara cleared his throat, because of a strange bout of emotions that was creeping up his esophagus, “I’m glad.” He said earnestly, as he carefully pushed Tobirama up a bit to get a look at the other’s stomach. Rationally, he knew he wouldn’t see anything yet as the pregnancy likely at its beginning.. He remembered to ask:

“How far along are you?” He whispered in quiet awe.

“Hm,” Tobirama purred, seemingly very satisfied with himself as he sat up properly, taking Madara’s hand to guide them toward his stomach. “Roughly four weeks, so not that long. But your rut has been particularly fruitful, it seems.”

It did line up with his rut and Madara relaxed a little, his shoulders losing the tiniest bit of tension he didn’t even know he was holding. Tobirama had been with him the entirety of his rut, so there was little possibility that he could’ve found someone to father this child elsewhere, particularly not Izuna as he mostly kept as far away from a rut-drunk Madara as possible. 

“I can’t believe I’m…” He frowned as he moved his hand over Tobirama’s stomach, “That I’m going to be a father. I wanted it all along, yet I didn’t expect it so soon. You said there were some issues…”

Madara phrased it carefully, as to not ire the domineering Omega above him that was still very much connected to himself by his knot. He risked looking up, relieved to find no such anger glistening in crimson eyes. He only saw raw satisfaction staring back at his vulnerability. 

“I did say so and it is true,” Tobirama said, “But it seems that we’re particularly compatible, Alpha. And we gave my body plenty of chances to accept your seed, with my heat and your rut. Though I am surprised myself, it is a welcome one.”

Madara didn’t know how to respond, as Tobirama’s body was a mystery on his own. Instead, his gaze fluttered back to the exposed stomach. 

“Amazing.” He murmured, letting his hands trace the soft skin carefully.

Whenever Madara had thought about Tobirama having his pups, before he married the Omega, he’d just figured he’d nod it off approvingly and leave the rest to servants and midwives. He would’ve done his job by siring the pup. 

Reality, however, was much different. 

Immediately after that night Madara put everything in place for Tobirama’s pregnancy.  He alerted the servants and midwives, holding long conversations with them about what Tobirama needed now. He concerned himself with every little detail, going from accommodations to food. It almost looked like a terrible compulsion, to the point where he couldn’t hold himself back if something wasn’t done to his instructions. For instance, as he attended a meal with Tobirama, he snarled at a servant because the Omega was accidentally served rice with raw egg on top. 

This was when Tobirama decided to step in. As soon as the servant was through the door — curious, he always waited until they were alone — he grabbed Madara by the neck and squeezed, looking at him with an expression that spoke of mild annoyance. 

“I know that you are concerned for the pup, Alpha, ” he said calmly, “But this is enough.”

Madara almost wanted to snap at Tobirama, his Alpha pride reeling at being grabbed like a pup, but he immediately knew that acting on those emotions would have even more dire consequences. Instead he just swallowed thickly and huffed, trying to let the anger out through that deep breath. 

“Alright?” Tobirama emphasized. 

“Yes. Alright.” Madara managed through his teeth. A moment passed before he couldn’t help but pipe up again. “They should know, though. I told them many times. If they can’t obey me—”

“They do know, it was a simple mistake.” Tobirama rationalized and instead of squeezing, now gently stroking Madara’s neck. It indeed had a soothing effect and the anger slowly left Madara’s body. 

“I can look out for myself.” Tobirama said, though it didn’t sound biting, or unkind. 

Madara sighed. He obviously knew very well by now that Tobirama was extremely capable — he’d laughed it off at the beginning, bucked against the idea for weeks if not months, but only a fool would deny it. But he simply couldn’t help this nature of his either. Because even considering all that had transpired, Tobirama was still his Omega. 

“I know,” he said and stubbornly frowned ahead, “I know that.” 

“Hm. I understand though…” Tobirama replied lowly, “You’re just being my good Alpha, aren’t you.”

Madara’s face must’ve been practically radiating heat when Tobirama pressed a kiss on his cheek. 

Madara knew he had to break the news to Izuna. Tobirama, despite being an Omega, was a slim and athletic man who’d certainly be showing sooner or later. And before that happened his little brother had to know, even if Madara had had his concerns with him; concerns that he’d buried deep down. Izuna deserved to know. 

He wasn’t easy to find, but eventually Madara came upon his brother in the gardens, where he was sitting on the grass, seemingly making himself as small as possible, with his legs folded closely against chest and nibbling on what seemed to be candied fruit, whiledreamily staring into the air — it was apparent that he was thinking, seeking a quiet place to do so. 

As soon as Izuna heard someone approaching, his head snapped up and, when realizing it was Madara, he pushed the bag with candy behind him, scrambling to wipe his eyes.As he came closer he saw that his little brother’s eyes were red and the skin around it blotchy — had he been crying?

“Peace, Izuna.” He said calmly, keeping his distance, trying to not scare him away. When had his brother become so afraid of him? “You can keep eating, I don’t mind.”

Izuna only looked up for a short minute, frown as apparent as the disbelief on his features. He didn’t reach for the candy, only warily keeping his eyes on Madara’s form, as if he was an imposter pretending to be his older brother and not doing a very good job at it. 

Madara gestured to the space next to him. “Can I sit?” He asked carefully. 

Izuna hesitated, but nodded after a few moments. “Yeah. Sure.”

Madara settled on the grass next to his brother, letting the silence speak for a few moments, listening to the birds sing, the wind brushing through the leaves. Slowly, Izuna seemed to acclimatize to his presence, as he hesitantly reached into the bag of candied fruit again, beginning to nibble on what seemed to be a plum — though he didn’t speak up, not asking for a reason as to why his older brother decided to seek him out. Madara dared a quick glance to the side; Izuna still seemed upset, sniffing with his eyes glassy and distant. He wondered what happened, but realized that if he pried, his brother would go away.

“Tobirama is pregnant.” Madara said eventually.  

Izuna stilled next to him. 

“Oh.” He simply emitted. 

“The doctors say the pup is healthy so far, but it’s still very early. I thought you should know.”

He looked to the side, just to see his brother looking very uncomfortable. Izuna downright grimaced, devastated as he held the bit of nibbled fruit in his hand so very still that it gave the impression that he was about to vomit. Madara desperately wanted to ask.

Why are you this way? Why can’t you be happy for me?

But he knew that if forced an answer now, he’d definitely get in trouble later. 

“That’s… that’s good.” Izuna said eventually and though it did sound as if he made an effort to be excited about the news, it failed. Madara was more perceptive than that.

Madara didn’t know what to reply and so they fell silent while his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of the pup’s paternity. Anyone who’d expect the pups to be theirs wouldn’t be this dejected about the news, he quickly reasoned, and tried crushing the rearing head of Alpha jealousy inside of him. They’d just been hugging, calm down. 

But then, why would Izuna be this upset about Madara having pups of his own? Could it be that he feared being left alone? That Madara wouldn’t have time for him anymore? They’d been fighting a lot ever since Izuna had reached puberty and, since then, his little brother had been a little brisk towards him — it was around that time Madara had been particularly caught up with clan business, not having the time to properly look after Izuna. 

Izuna had been a very affectionate child, given that Madara was the only one he could cling to. Perhaps he just needed someone in his life that he could fuss over, now that Madara was having a family on his own. 

“Don’t worry, Izuna,” he said encouragingly, fondly and softly squeezing his younger brother’s neck, “Perhaps it’s time you get married as well, hm? Maybe it’ll do you good. I will look for suitable candidates, trust me, I’ll be thorough.”

He ruffled Izuna’s hair and stood, leaving with a better feeling in his chest. He didn’t look back to see the expression on his otouto’s face.

Things have developed to be a little… tense, ever since Tobirama’s pregnancy was announced to the clan. Initially, Madara had wanted to keep it more private, as his partially irrational worries around the whole topic hadn’t ceased, but he soon realized that there was no way around it. It was tradition to announce it as soon as it became clear that the pregnancy wasn’t a… fickle thing. 

The reception was mixed, as was to be expected. Some of course were joyous that the main family was to be enriched by heirs, but Madara wasn’t a fool, nor was he blind. The furthest thing from it. Ever since he’d shown himself more receptive of Tobirama’s ways, as he’d kindly labeled it in his own head, and opened himself up to the Omega’s ideas, he’d become quite sensitive to all the downright vile things that were said about him when Alpha’s thought no one from another designation was listening in. 

And, of course, had it been a few weeks ago, Madara wouldn’t have seen anything too terribly wrong with statements like “Omegas can be bratty at times, nothing a few strokes won’t fix.” or “Sometimes Omegas pretend they don’t want to, but once you start they’ll get there eventually.”

He himself never practiced such things, but he certainly never turned his nose up at, often old and traditional, Alphas who uttered sentences like that. He’d often simply laughed it off, dismissed it with a ‘Is that right?’ and turned the conversation elsewhere. 

Whatever Tobirama had done with him certainly was effective because what was now said about him made Madara want to rip out throats, and he would have if he didn’t have an image to uphold. It made him antsy, irritable. It wasn’t particularly helpful that Tobirama’s new policies about Omegas in trade were met with anger and confusion by many Alphas, especially the ones in the Elder’s council..

The one with the ambitious granddaughter had come to confront Madara once again, this time with his face so red, his head looked ready to explode. 

“This is a scandal! A shame for the entire clan!” He’d bellowed, crude and entitled, and it had made Madara’s eye twitch in annoyance. Had these Alphas always sounded like this?

“Why in Amaterasu’s name would you allow him to do such things?!”

Madara had calmly replied. “Omega business is transferred to the clan head’s Omega upon marriage, surely you know this, elder Emon.”

“Bah!” Elder Emon had spat at that, “That is all a farce and you know it! You could easily do something about these ridiculous happenings. You could just refuse to! If I didn’t know any better, I would think this is a personal insult…”

What a laughable thought, really, as elder Emon was barely a second’s worth in the entirety of Madara’s thoughts. He was just some ancient, traditional Alpha that fancied himself powerful because he’d reached a certain age and had therefore earned a position in the council — for him to think that Madara allowing Tobirama to do his biddings was a personal attack just to spite him… Had he become senile?

Madara only sighed at that, annoyed, dismissively waving a hand. 

“Get out, I don’t have time for you. Accept how things are or continue to seethe, I don’t care. Just cease to bother me with it.”

Elder Emon had sputtered at that, outraged and indignant, leaving in a dramatic fashion. 

To Madara, this was only a small incident. Yet it was an important signifier of how the current mood was in the council of elders; many didn’t dare to oppose him, he knew. But that didn’t mean they weren’t talking behind his back. Tobirama wasn’t very popular with these men as they already claimed the Omega had bewitched him and Madara knew, deep down, that he’d have to keep an eye on that.

Uncle Tatsu was behaving strangely.

Admittedly, he was always behaving kind of strangely, starved of attention and desperate to get it, an attitude unbecoming of someone his age. He was so different from his brother, Madara’s father, that it was almost difficult to believe they were brothers at all — but Madara had indulged his uncle all these years, because despite his antics he’d been harmless.

And Tatsu would remain harmless, surely. There was no way that this man could be a danger in any sense of the word. But what Madara had successfully ignored for weeks now was his uncle’s increasingly aggressive and obsessive behavior towards Tobirama. It had all begun with him just unseemingly sniffing around the Omega until Madara thought he’d put an end to it. But it seemed that fools were hard to teach. 

Because it was impossible to ignore now, as he saw another display from afar on the path towards the estate, a situation so eerily similar to the first one. Tatsu sneaking around an unimpressed Tobirama, left and right, heatedly expressing himself with wild gestures and an exasperated look on his face. But whatever he wanted from the Omega, it was unfruitful. 

Madara felt his blood boil, his instincts hackle as his mind screamed — there’s an Alpha sneaking around your Omega! 

Tobirama had begun showing not long ago, not enough to be visible through his layers of clothing, but Madara knew. There was his pup growing in the Omega’s womb and Tatsu— and Tatsu—

Was grabbing Tobirama by his wrist?!

Madara immediately sprung into action, but Tobirama was faster. He backhanded Madara’s uncle so hard that the Alpha unceremoniously flew backwards, pathetically landing in the dirt. Within seconds Madara was at Tobirama’s side, who didn’t seem bothered at all; yet Madara was bothered, immensely bothered even.

“What do you think you’re doing, Tatsuhiro?! You forget yourself!” He spat towards his uncle, who was still trying to get up, “If you weren’t my uncle I would—”

His furious tirade was interrupted by Tobirama, who wrapped his arms around Madara’s middle; a soothing gesture that worked immediately. Madara inhaled and swallowed heavily, his temper calming. Nevertheless he remained irate as his hand instinctively found Tobirama’s around his waist.

“I think it’s best you don’t come to the estate anymore, Tatsuhiro.” He said coldly. 

His uncle sputtered at that, having finally gotten up. “But— I live here!”

Madara sneered. “You will find something. The compound is large.”

With that he turned, walking away from his uncle and his calls of protest, Tobirama still partially clinging to his body. The anger inside Madara seemed to lessen; his worries did not. 

“My Alpha hero,” Tobirama purred playfully into his ear as soon as they’d gained some distance. 

“Oh, shut it.” Madara grumbled without any real venom. He didn’t want Tobirama making fun of his instincts. “I– apologize for my uncle’s behavior. It seems he ignored my words.”

Tobirama chuckled, the situation seemingly as minor to him as a child playing harmless pranks. “He shall apologize himself, there’s no need for you to concern yourself with your uncle’s behavior. I know how to deal with inferior Alpha’s like that, he will come around.”

Madara sighed. Of course, he was aware of that — he knew Tobirama by now, knew that no one could influence him, could shake his character. If Madara hadn’t been able to, truly, no one could; high and mighty he’d been reduced to lesser, to a bowing, weak, caricature of an Alpha. He thought about it in never ending circles, how he’d been systematically reduced, a never ending theme in the broad landscape of his thoughts — tamed like a wild beast, brought to heel by an Omega.

Accepting this reality in his thoughts alone had been difficult enough. So many sleepless nights he’d spent pondering, torturing himself over it and resisting it with all his might only to find that his will hadn’t been strong enough. At the end, he went back to Tobirama as if the Omega had been a master calling. But these admittedly pathetic facts about his newly awoken self didn’t cancel out his damn instincts.

His instincts to protect, to shelter, to be strong for his Omega and unborn pup.

“Indulge me in this, would you?” Madara asked carefully. “I can’t help this, as much as I want to. It’s not to… discredit your capabilities.”

He stopped and turned towards Tobirama who did the same, staring into his eyes with a familiar expectant, calculating gaze. 

“You can—” Madara began, before realizing that Tobirama likely would not indulge him with a commanding tone. “I want you to move into my quarters. Please. It would… calm my nerves.”

A slightly mischievous grin broke onto Tobirama’s face as the words sunk in, as if he’d played the system and won. Madara weakly thought that he probably would never entirely understand Tobirama’s mind games and that he would have to live with the fact that he’d have to surrender to this fate. 

“Hm,” Tobirama emitted, pretending to think about it with a sharp glint in his crimson eyes, “If you beg nicely tonight, I might consider it.”

Fate , Madara thought weakly yet again, accepting that his cock was very interested in that idea.

And beg nicely he did. 

Until he was nothing but a pliant, weak puddle at his Omega’s feet, his body exhausted, his head fuzzy and resting against Tobirama’s thigh — hazy gaze trained upward, looking at the wonder, the challenge, the punishment, the reward Amaterasu had sent him. Tobirama was a vision pregnant, even if he wasn’t far along yet. The sight of the carrying Omega above him combined with the sensation of the strong hand petting through his hair kept him in this blissful, mindless state. 

“Can I touch you?” Madara asked, though it came out slurred. 

It seemed like Tobirama was pleased by his performance, as he agreed. “You may.”

And when Madara touched the slightly protruding belly, a small sign of the life growing inside Tobirama, the warmth beneath his fingers, he thought there was nothing that could surpass this moment.

It was only a couple of days later when Madara noticed that something was amiss. It wasn’t even something particularly notable, just a strange circumstance combined with an even strange notion that overcame him. It wasn’t something he could name, he wouldn’t have been able to say what it was that seemed so wrong. 

He hadn’t seen Tobirama ever since they parted that morning. 

Usually Madara would see him a couple of times throughout the day as of recently, the Omega sometimes sneaking by, probably to check up on him. Today, Madara hadn’t even caught a glimpse of him. 

Perhaps he craved his presence more now that he was pregnant, but Madara had this strange urge to go and seek out Tobirama, wherever he may be at that moment. But where would that even be? Madara didn’t quite know. 

He laid down the pen carefully, looking at the paper he’d been writing for a short moment, before looking up towards Hikaku who expectantly stared back. 

“I think I shall go and seek for Tobirama. I want to check up on him.” He said casually and the moment he’d said it, a strange and very brief grimace crawled over his advisor’s face. 

“Are you certain, Madara-sama? Won’t the paper need more attention?”

At that, Madara frowned. Why would Hikaku say that? “No, I’m pretty much done with it. What is going on?”

Hikaku remained silent for a few heartbeats. “I’m not sure it would be wise to seek out Tobirama-sama.” He eventually said, sounding cryptic and stiff. 

Madara rose immediately, the chair screeching on the wooden floor, stepping right in front of the Beta advisor who didn’t show any intentions to move. That’s when Madara knew that something definitely wasn’t right — that his weird feeling had been correct.

“Not wise?” He growled under his breath, “You tell me right now what’s going on. Is there something happening to Tobirama?!”

Hikaku swallowed. He was smaller in stature as Madara, but his gaze was trained upward, not wavering. He’d always been brave for a Beta. “Well, not Tobirama exactly…”

Madara had heard enough. Without letting Hikaku finish his vague excuse he pushed the Beta aside with ease, the man stumbling back before catching himself, running after Madara who, in long strides, began making his way through the estate.

“My Lord, please! It’s not wise!”

But Hikaku’s words fell on deaf ears as the Alpha inside Madara began to concoct the wildest, most terrible scenarios — Tobirama was hurt, the pup was hurt, something other terrible thing has happened and everyone has conspired against him, even his closest friend—

Madara didn’t even know where to look for his mate, but the faint scent of Tobirama lingered inside the entire estate. Further and further it guided him until he found himself in the area of the private quarters, Tobirama’s Omega scent intensifying in addition to a thick curtain of herbs, usually burnt to cover the smell of an Omega in heat. But why would the herbs be burnt when Tobirama was pregnant, not able to get a heat anymore until the pup was born?

Madara arrived at the door of an unused guest quarter, sure in the knowledge that Tobirama was right behind it — hearing a faint whimpering muffled by the thick doors. Hikaku almost ran into him, distressed and with his eyes wide, tearing at Madara’s sleeve.

“My Lord, no!”

Madara ripped the previously locked door open with a strength only an Alpha of his caliber could possess. The picture that unfolded before him overwhelmed him left him stunned. 

Tobirama was fully clothed and kneeling on a futon, his head snapping up at the sudden intrusion. Spread out in his lap, clinging to his being like a drowning man to a sole plank in a stormy ocean was…

Dark hair, choppy, shoulder length. 

Izuna. 

Madara’s first thought was betrayal, that he’d been right about Tobirama having an affair with his brother. But that idea vanished within the fraction of a second. 

“Get out! Get out now!” Tobirama snarled, but Madara barely registered his demand, his gaze singularly focused on his brother on the damp futon.

Izuna hadn’t even registered that someone had walked in on them, he himself only clothed in a haori that barely covered him anymore, the skin on his chest glistening wetly from pure sweat. He was whimpering and squirming, squeezing Tobirama’s hand to death as he cried mutedly, very obviously in distress and pain as it was etched onto his youthful features. He was far gone, even when he briefly opened his eyes they were glassy and distant.

Tobirama’s scent was heavily overpowered by the now very obvious one of an Omega in heat. Smokey, with a severe note of overripe fall fruits — sweet, sharp, overwhelming. 

Madara stumbled back as his mind reassessed and reassessed until it finally all fell into one place, though it was unbelievable, almost ridiculous and utterly jarring. 

The Omega in heat… was Izuna.

Chapter Text

IX.

Madara stared, stared and stared at the writhing Omega on the floor, the thick scent of heat dizzying him and yet doing nothing to arouse the Alpha inside of him — because, of course, this was his brother. Family. The Alpha inside of him knew that instinctively. 

Yet, his mind couldn’t keep up, tunnel vision locking him in place, as if the sight of Izuna in the throes of an Omega’s heat had entirely paralyzed him.. How could it be? Izuna was a Beta, had always been a Beta! Nothing over the years had ever suggested that he was actually an Omega. Or had there been signs?

Stunned by the image, Madara almost entirely missed what was actually going on around him.

Tobirama was snarling something that sounded rather biting and suddenly someone, who could only be Hikaku, grabbed Madara by his sleeves and pulled him outside into the hallway, shutting the door behind them. Pliantly, Madara let himself be dragged, too overwhelmed by the jarring truth he’d just learned.

In the hallway, Hikaku gained some distance, a look of devastation and fear on his face as he covered his mouth with one hand, as if sick to his stomach; watching Madara closely for every, ever so small, move. Madara’s arms just flopped to the side, his features slack as he stared into nothingness. He was waiting for his thoughts, who were racing a mile an hour and yet still slow and tenacious, to catch up with him. 

The silence was deafening. Madara slowly shook his head, his mind trying to reject the reality of what he’d just witnessed as it inevitably settled in; hard and unforgiving. 

After what seemed to be an eternity, he slowly opened his mouth to speak. 

“Izuna is…”

“Yes.” Hikaku quickly said, as if it would physically hurt him to hear Madara say it. 

Madara swallowed and rubbed over his forehead, before looking at his advisor and close friend who, apparently, had been keeping the biggest secret that someone could’ve kept from him. Hearing Hikaku speak it, confirm it, made the realization hit home even stronger. 

“Since when?” Madara asked, subdued. 

He didn’t know how to feel, a strange tiredness filling him — a big, devastating void where, only a few months prior, indescribable anger would’ve taken hold. But now… he just couldn’t be angry, no spark lightning what would have been the usual, known Alpha fury. The implications on why his own advisor and brother had kept this secret too great and damning. 

Hikaku sighed, softly shaking his head. “He presented late, when he was fifteen. Up until then he’d been sure he was a Beta, but… life found a way.”

Izuna was twenty. Five years, this secret had loomed over the Uchiha household, shared by a few, a devastating shadow weighing down on them without Madara even suspecting a thing — a crushing secret that had changed his brother, made him fearful and aggressive, distant and distrustful. Small hints over the years, details Madara either oversaw or didn’t know how to interpret, faulting them to puberty or rebellion, suddenly made painful sense.

Hikaku’s gaze found Madara’s, a strange determination now sparkling in the obsidian depths. “He didn’t know what to do when his first heat hit, entirely unsuspected. I found him by accident, overcome by his heat and he begged me not to tell you. And when I say that he begged, then I mean that he begged for his life. The fear in his eyes… he cried as if he was about to stand at the gallows.” 

Nausea hit Madara’s stomach hard and he lowered his head. His own brother, deathly afraid of him just because he’d presented as an Omega. Madara had known that there was some indecipherable anxiety Izuna was suffering from, Madara being the cause of it. But he’d always thought it was simply because of his strict and severe ways of bringing Izuna up.

“How could I have denied him, my Lord?” Hikaku said firmly, the strength in his voice betraying his conviction, “I know what would’ve happened, if I’d told you. Izuna would’ve been married off the next year or the year after, to some other noble house and he would’ve birthed pups shortly after. Doomed for a dull, miserable life of giving heirs until he couldn't anymore. No say, no opinion, no agency!”

Hikaku shook his head, an angry frown on his features, his hands balled into fists. “No. No, I couldn’t have possibly let that happen, couldn’t have bore this weight on my consciousness. He is a bright, talented young man and my loyalty does not only lie with you, my Lord, but with him, too! This fate is not for him, I refuse!”

His anger was righteous, Madara thought as he absorbed the words, feeling numb. Honorable, even. A deep sense of shame filled him, because yes…

“Yes, I would’ve.” Madara confessed, feeling dizzy and shaken, “I would’ve wedded him.”

A withering truth. A fact so real that only mere months separated it from the present. And what of the present? There was only one answer.

Madara straightened, yet still feeling sick to the stomach. “By the Kami, I would’ve. But not anymore. I— no. No, not anymore. Izuna is… Izuna is safe.”

Safe from me. Safe from the me of the past. 

Because how could he do it now? Sell his brother off in fear, to Alphas like he used to be — that thought made him truly sick, truly angry. Madara knew very well what he'd thought, done, said. 

Hikaku’s shoulder slacked, a determined fight leaving him and surprise, relief played over his face in a strange amalgamation. “Truly?” It seemed he couldn’t believe it. 

Madara nodded slowly. “Tobirama… opened my eyes.”

That seemed to leave Hikaku speechless, just for a few moments. “I suspected that he might have had an influence on you… I had— hoped that it would be enough, should this moment come. No secret is kept forever.” He said weakly. 

“You did good, Hikaku.” Madara finally confessed, “Only a few months ago… I don’t know how I would’ve reacted. It pains me, but I understand Izuna’s fear.”

A few beats of silence ensued, until Madara’s curiosity won enough to confirm a suspicion. “So… the eating?”

“His medication suppressing most of his heats makes him incredibly hungry. It’s a constant appetite, a hassling side effect, but if that’s what it took…”

“Well, that explains it.” Madara said, more to himself. “I assume you got him the medication?”

Hikaku nodded softly. “It was less suspicious if I did it.”

And it had been. Madara had never suspected a thing, as he had never really cared what Hikaku did in his free time, what purchases he made or if he had any closer contact with his brother — ignorance, born out of Alpha arrogance. 

“I…” Madara trailed off and sighed, “I need time to think. Stay here. I know Tobirama is already caring for Izuna, but… a heat is hard on an Omega. Izuna will need all the help he can get.”

And so Madara left Hikaku standing in the hallway, walking back to his office in a trance. He fell into his chair and stared at the wall for what must’ve been hours.

Madara had once asked himself how Tobirama could demand change from him.  How Tobirama could demand him to be, by his beliefs, softer and yielding. He remembered how he’d felt angry, thinking that his anger was justified. Because he’d interpreted this change as weakness, as degradation and humiliation. Entirely selfish thoughts, again, like so many things; only related to himself. 

Me, me, me, the Alpha inside of him had cried. This whole world is about me!

And of course, to a degree, it was. This was about Madara and his whole character — and Tobirama broke him down, piece by piece. Perhaps, some changes, only for Tobirama, because he liked Alphas that way. But with the new decree about Omegas in trade, the picture gained a new dimension that made his husband’s actions clearer.

The demand for change wasn’t only about Madara.

It was about all the Omegas he had power over. Over Uchiha Omegas, Tobirama, in a way, and now Izuna. It had always been more than a sexual thing. Power, from the very beginning, had been the other’s golden key. 

Change, demanded. Change, completed. Subtly the deed already began. and now Madara couldn’t ignite any anger about it — one that he felt he should, but fire failed to come. Tobirama had gotten what he wanted, he thought tiredly.

This way, at least, Izuna was safe from him. 

Tobirama almost ripped his throat out as soon as they joined again in the shared bedroom  sometime later. 

Madara swallowed thickly underneath the strong hand that had clamped around his throat, fingers carelessly brushing over the mating mark, making him shiver. He knew that if he buckled now, Tobirama’s temper would sharpen even more — he’d been ambushed by his husband in the dark, very much akin to their first mating. Spread out, Madara laid on the bed patiently, and a little nervously, waiting out whatever his Omega had in store for him.

Tobirama stared down at him, his expression unhappy and a little sour. Even with a showing pregnancy, the Omega’s aura remained as threatening as it had always been.

“You will do nothing to your poor brother, you understand?” Tobirama spoke lowly, but there was a powerful undercurrent in his voice. 

“I wasn’t planning to.” Madara mumbled back, forcing himself to hold the stare. 

Tobirama’s crimson eyes narrowed, as if to probe him for any lies. Madara could feel his own heartbeat in his throat, pulsating against Tobirama’s calloused hand — thump, thump, thump. How he’d ever thought the Omega above him would yield to him, it seemed outlandish and laughable now. 

“I shall trust you. But know that I will not hesitate if anything should happen to Izuna.”

With that he loosened his hand, moving off of Madara. Tobirama’s threat was vague, but the message came across. Slowly Madara straightened, wanting to gain back his countenance. 

“I still can’t believe it,” Madara murmured as Tobirama slowly got ready for bed, “To think that I thought…”

“Thought what?”

Madara huffed, contemplating if he should confess the worries he’d been having. Would it ire Tobirama? No, his mind quickly supplied, at most he’d simply laugh at him for being such a fool. 

“A couple of weeks ago I saw you two… embrace.” He said carefully.


Tobirama halted in adjusting his night wear and turned to stare at Madara. “And you thought— oh, what an idiot you are.” He responded lightly. “Of course your Alpha brain would jump to something like that.”

Tobirama shook his head and finished up, before joining Madara on the bed. “Izuna had confessed his designation to me that day. Seeing how I interacted with you had given him the courage to do so. To confide in me. Such secrets are a heavy burden on such a young person and he’d hoped to find an ally, or just someone to talk to next to your advisor, who could hardly relate to his struggles as a Beta. It had taken Izuna a lot of strength to talk to me regardless and the relief after I’d promised to help him without telling you had manifested in quite a lot of tears.”

The guilt that had subsided a little over the afternoon came back at full force, hitting Madara low in the stomach as if someone had punched into it with all their might. Madara rubbed over his head. “To think that he was so afraid of me…” He whispered into the dark. 

Tobirama heard it anyway. “And why wouldn’t he have been? Given who you were?” He said unforgivingly, his tone dry, before unceremoniously flopping back into the bedding.

By the Kami, he was right, Madara thought bitterly as he continued to stare into the dark. To Izuna, a monster had roamed these hallways and it had been him, Madara. 

“Now stop self pitying and c’mere, Alpha.”

Dutifully, Madara did.

Frankly, Madara felt out of depth with the whole situation. 

He knew he was supposed to talk to Izuna — he wanted to, desperately, in fact, to reassure his little brother that nothing of those horrible things that once could’ve been a very harsh and unforgiving reality were going to come true. That he was safe in this home, despite what he was probably thinking. That he was safe from the monster Madara used to be; because this beast had been slain by Tobirama. 

But no matter how he thought about approaching it, he didn’t find the right words. And how could he? How does one apologize for inducing such primal fear? No matter, one way or another he would have to do it, otherwise Madara thought he might go nuts from overthinking. 

It wasn’t easy to find his brother, as it had grown to be. Naturally his brother hid from him. Madara didn’t know what Tobirama or Hikaku had told him, but in the worst circumstance they haven’t told them anything concrete. Madara understood: it wasn’t their job to speak for him, to reassure Izuna that nothing nefarious would happen to him. He knew his brother, Izuna wouldn’t have believed them anyway until he’d heard it from Madara himself. 

Once he found Izuna in some of the less frequented corners of the estate, he wordlessly settled next to him. The young Omega looked ready to flee, for those that knew how to read him. His muscles seemed taut and his eyes turned away, trained on the exit. His scent wasn’t neutral anymore, as it had been for so many years — the sweet, sugary, smell of fall fruits clung to him, marking him an Omega. Madara wondered why, but figured it would be insensitive to ask. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly instead, “I have let you down, Izuna.”


Briefly, his brother threw him a glance, a defeated scowl on his face. He said nothing. 

“I know now that you were— you are afraid. Of me. And I understand, as much as it pains me.”

Izuna scoffed at that. “Do you now?” 

Madara couldn’t blame him for his cynicism, or the bitterness. He sighed, struggling to find the right words. Nothing he would say would make up for the wounds he savagely made over the years, without even knowing that he did. 

“You have no right to say that it pains you. ” Izuna said, no cadence in his voice, “A couple of months ago you wouldn’t have cared. You would’ve happily married me off and that would’ve been it.”

Madara nodded. “Yes, you’re right. I’m not trying to ask for forgiveness. Just know that you are safe now, there will be no marriage, except to the person you want to get married to, out of your own volition. Someday. I— You don’t… I’m not a threat to you, not anymore. That’s the only thing I want you to know.”

Finally, Izuna looked at him. Really looked at him, with a scrutinizing stare. And after a few long moments, he nodded hesitantly. 

“Alright.”

Madara knew that it had to be enough. 

That he wouldn’t get more, for now. He could only hope that it wasn’t too late, that he could somehow still repair this broken relationship and that someday, maybe, his little brother would trust him again. Accepting that was hard, but he had to do it. And so he swallowed, allowing himself to slightly squeeze Izuna’s shoulder  — who, thank the Kami , didn’t flinch — before leaving again, his heart feeling heavy. 

Of course there had always been questions. 

Questions Madara never quite expected to get answers to. Perhaps someday, when he and Tobirama trusted each other more than whatever they had now — then, maybe, he’d ask those questions. At this point in time Madara only expected cold rejection and unpleasant consequences if he’d dare to, even though they’d been on his mind since the very beginning. 

Why? 

That was the biggest one of them. Why was Tobirama this way? This dominant and prideful, this strong and accomplished. Why was he so unlike any Omega Madara had ever met? Was he born like this?

And, immediately following the why came the how. How did Tobirama grow up? How did he manage to push through every obstacle the life in a traditional clan surely had put in his way? How did he become a shinobi?

Madara always mused on these questions quietly, in the privacy of his own thoughts. That he’d get some answers this soon… he wouldn’t have ever thought.

It was some nondescript afternoon when Hikaku entered Madara’s office, a frown on his face.

“Hikaku,” Madara offered, “What is it?”

“There is some commotion outside the estate… Your uncle demands entrance. He has some members from the council of elders with him. It seems to be about Tobirama-sama.”

Madara sighed heavily. He’d already had the feeling that his uncle wouldn’t take the banishment in stride — he just wasn’t that type of person, unfortunately. Ever since Madara had kicked Tatsu out, he’d wondered why he’d tolerated his irritating and, quite frankly harmful, behavior for so long. But a few months back he hadn’t thought of it as harmful, only annoying. Had he really changed that much?

“So let them seethe. Send them away. I frankly don’t have time for such childish displays.” Madara decided. 

“I have already tried to, my Lord. But they have very… emphatically said that they won’t move until you’ve heard what they have to say. They even threatened to tear down the gate. Tobirama-sama learned about the commotion when I was on my way to inform you and I wasn’t able to convince him to stay away.”

To that, Madara only rose with a curse. 

The small crowd of people in front of the gate was just as pathetic as Madara had suspected it to be. There were five people, consisting of his uncle and four council members, elder Emon among them, all looking righteous and smug as Tatsu threw some words at Tobirama. 

Madara’s husband stood a few feet away from the gate with his arms crossed, no doubt unimpressed as Tatsu was gesticulating violently, grinning as if he won something in a game of cards and saying something Madara was still too far away from to make out.

He drew closer and it wasn’t long until his uncle finally spotted him. Madara didn’t know it was possible, but the man lit up even more, sly grin intensifying. 

“Nephew!” He called out, “Finally! Now the truth will set things right!”

“Tatsuhiro.” Madara replied coolly, finally arriving at the scene and placing himself next to Tobirama, who threw a quick glance towards him. “What do you want?”

“I won’t talk unless I’m let in. But trust me, nephew, you’d want to hear this revelation! The truth about your Omega!”

Madara considered just turning around and going back inside. It was clear his uncle was baiting him to some degree, but something was holding Madara back. Tatsu was really bad at lying. And if this truly was just a ploy to get back onto estate grounds for some reason unbeknown, there would be telltale signs in his features hinting at his deception. But now there was only giddy joy displayed — whatever he knew, he really believed it to be the truth. 

The truth… about Tobirama? The potential behind this statement let Madara’s fingertips tingle, his heartbeat elevating in curiosity. Still, he wasn’t inclined to give in, for Tobirama’s sake. His mate was pregnant with their pup and even given the fact that Tobirama was very resilient, too much stress surely wasn’t good for his health. 

But then Tobirama reached out grabbing his shoulder. 

“It’s fine. Let him say what he has to say.” 

Nothing in his mate’s voice betrayed any form of emotional distress and he seemed as relaxed as if he was reading a book and enjoying some tea. Madara wrestled with himself for a few moments, before nodding towards Hikaku who’d followed him. His assistant understood the silent command and walked towards the gate, opening it. 

“Only Tatsuhiro.” Madara said harshly, letting his gaze wander over the old and puffed up Alphas behind his uncle, “Don’t believe this ridiculous display won’t have consequences.”

Tatsuhiro slipped in, stopping a couple of feet in front of Madara and Tobirama.

“Out with it.” Madara demanded. 

Tatsu was breathing heavily as if he’d run a mile, eyes wide and grin on display; the face of a person who was sure, right down into their bones, that they’d won. He licked his lips. 

“That Omega—” Tatsuhiro breathed, comically stretching out his arm and pointing his finger at Tobirama, “— is unnatural! I don’t even know if you can call him an Omega!” He laughed, his laugh bordering on being maniac, “Monster would be a more fitting term! His hormones are all wrong, he has Alpha hormones! He is an offense to what Omegas should be, I’ve seen his medical files, as someone was so friendly as to provide me with them!” 

Madara’s heart was beating so fast he thought it would burst out of his chest at any given moment. But not because of shock or indignation at the revelation; there must be some truth to it, as Madara knew what Tobirama was like. And so what if it was true? Tobirama was carrying his pups, and was his golden opposite.

No, it was beating out of pure, unadulterated rage. 

How dare his uncle speak of his mate like that? How dare he call him these slurs?! Madara felt the anger slowly choke him, tightening his throat and as if on command, his hands closed to fists — of course his uncle didn’t notice.

“I won’t deny it.” Tobirama suddenly said calmly, “I was born with a hormonal disorder. And to forestall what you also want to ‘reveal’: yes, when my father found out, he did do some rather unpleasant… experiments to try and turn me into an Alpha. It didn’t work, obviously and I suffered no long term effects. And it seems like none of you actually paid attention in your education, or in Omegan anatomy. Which does not surprise me in the slightest.” 

He looked at the Alphas standing in front of him dismissively. “So I will educate you now. My hormones do not change me as a person. They do not define my personality. My confidence, my power, my battle prowess is all me and all Omega. ” Tobirama grinned, teeth and sharp canines on display, “Just a little… let's say amplified. And that bothers you, doesn’t it? Shall we compare who was the bigger cock?”

Tatsuhiro seemed taken aback, sputtering as he was looking for a comeback. Madara’s eyes were glued on his uncle as a voice of reason in his hindbrain reminded him to ask Tobirama about those experiments later; his mate had brushed over it in the conversation, but there was definitely more to it. 

“You’ve got a hermaphrodite as a mate, nephew!” Tatsu finally yelled, as if it was the final nail in the coffin and Madara’s rage grew beyond what was bearable.

Any moment now he’d explode, Madara knew. His temper had always been short fused and the red curtain of fury that now slowly descended onto his vision was caused not only by his Alpha urge to protect his mate and pup, but also by his sheer indignation of how someone could dare and talk to Tobirama that way. 

But Tatsu didn’t seem to sense the oncoming danger — he’d always been blind to threats, protected and coddled as he’d been — and the fool opened his mouth again. 

“He's a mongrel! ”

It was then Madara didn’t quite remember what he did, his blurry memories only picking up again the exact moment he broke his uncle’s neck with his bare hands. 

Madara wasn’t shocked by this, he’d killed many people that way. And the first thought that ran through his head immediately after was ‘ he deserved it’. He let go and the limp body of his, now dead, uncle, which fell to the floor like a sack of rice. 

A deathly silence fell over the scene, the elders watching from behind the gate with horror manifested in their faces; they’d likely hoped that Tatsuhiro’s findings would sway Madara’s opinion on his mate, and would set him back into his old ways. They certainly wouldn’t have expected this outcome, with their outspoken puppet lying dead to their feet. 

“Well then,” Tobirama finally said, his voice light, “I’d suggest that you all go home. I wouldn’t make the mistake of provoking my mate further. Maybe then the consequences of your actions won’t be as dire as you might fear now.”

A well meant advice from Tobirama, given that the council members had tried to turn Madara, his own mate, against him. They didn’t know, Madara mused, that he was beyond reason.

The elders fled as quickly as their old bones let them. Madara wanted to hunt after them, for having the sheer audacity to show up today, but he was still planted before his uncle’s body, breathing heavily. His brain a mush of signals — protect, attack, back to protect.

Suddenly he felt Tobirama’s hand on his back, stroking him gently. “Hikaku, would you dispose of this body?” Tobirama said and Hikaku responded dutifully with ‘ Of course, Tobirama-sama’.

“Come, Alpha.” Tobirama then commanded quietly, accompanied by a slight tug at his shoulder and Madara moved immediately. 

It was some time later that he finally managed to shake himself out of the shock, over a warm cup of tea in Tobirama’s company. 

“He had it coming,” Tobirama stated the obvious. 

“He did.” Madara said mutely, “Tatsuhiro never was a good uncle.”

Tobirama let the short silence linger. “What I said is true, as well as the information he’d likely had gotten his hands on. I do have a hormonal imbalance. It never changed who I am.”

“I never doubted that.”

“I know you didn’t. I’m fairly surprised you never asked.” 

Madara frowned. “But I did.” He raised.

At that, Tobirama shook his head. “No. You only ever asked something along the way of ‘why are you like that?’, but that is too broad of a question and frankly quite rude, so I never honored you with a proper answer.”

Madara knew that Tobirama was right; he really never had properly asked and, in the beginning, he hadn’t thought to, either, too offended and outraged by Tobirama’s treatment of him. He swallowed thickly, noticing that his anger hadn’t quite faded yet — something was still bothering greatly. 

“You mentioned experiments… by the hands of your father.” He stated.

His mate hummed at that. “My father never was fond of me. That I presented as an Omega seemed to be the final offense to him and as soon as he noticed that my designation didn’t change me, didn’t make me pliant and obedient to him, he asked doctors to examine me. They diagnosed me with hormonal imbalance. After that, he had the hope that he could turn me out ‘right’.”

Madara shivered. Tobirama didn’t need to elaborate for him to understand that none of these experiments were a pleasant experience, quite the opposite. The thought that his mate had been tortured like that by the hands of his father…

He growled. “Senju Butsuma… I’ll kill him.” He grimly swore under his breath, seeking Tobirama’s eyes.

Tobirama laughed at that, seemingly very delighted, reaching out and stroking over Madara’s hair. “That’s very sweet, Alpha.” His smile didn’t fade, “But there is no need. I killed him myself, five years ago.”

Surprise made Madara’s spine straighten. “Butsuma is dead? I— how? I thought he just operated from the Senju’s homestead…”

“He sure is,” Tobirama confirmed, “I took great pleasure in killing him. Hashirama and I made sure that everyone still thought he was alive out of strategic purposes. As fond as Hashirama still somewhat was for our father… he loved his brother more. He’s taken over clan business and I became his advisor.”

Madara frowned, processing this revelation. “It certainly is a surprise. How come my uncle obtained this information about you, if the Senjus are so tight knit about internal business?”

Tobirama snorted in response. “No one would dare to be an outright traitor, but some in the Senju clan still remain disgustingly old-fashioned. There were some Alphas who didn’t agree with my position or with what I’ve done. I’m sure your uncle found enough willing to share these pieces of information.”

“I see.”

A smile crept back on Tobirama’s face. “But there is nothing left unsaid between us anymore.”

He reached for Madara’s head and Madara, pliantly, sunk into the embrace, let Tobirama press his head into his chest. His mate’s warm tits beneath his cheek, he thought there was nothing more heaven could give him.

That night Tobirama bit his neck raw, ripped open old scars with a feverish gaze as he rode Madara into oblivion — his favorite position. 

“The strongest of them all,” he whispered into Madara’s ear as he placed love bite after love bite on his neck, “And I’ve conquered him. He’s here, right beneath me. Where you should be. You’re mine, forever, you’re mine.”

Madara couldn’t deny him and didn’t even want to.

Madara dreams that night. Of a soft, sun soaked room and his mate lying in bed, exhausted but glowing, a tiny bundle in his arms. And he looks down, a certain weight in his own hold. 

A second pup, wrapped in white linen and with his eyes closed, wriggles actively in his embrace. He looks a bit wrinkly, but it’s the most beautiful pup he’s ever seen; skin pale, even with red undertones, as he’s obviously just been born. A dark tuft of hair on his head, streaked through and through with visible, white strands. 

And Madara’s heart feels full as he pulls the pup closer, softly scenting him — he just knows it's a him — gently, barely letting his nose wander over the tiny face. Beneath a unique scent that reminds Madara so much of spring, he smells it…

… the faintest hint of aconite.