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Sweet sleepless tumbling night
Mmh, and the morning on your skin, a loved-up light
Tracing patterns in the maze of your back
Softly, softly the goosebumps, like that
And then a kiss
Mmh
Maybe another
And another one
Between Sheets- Imogen Heap
/././
.
.
.
He notices it between one glance and another.
Through the lust filled haze and desperate, almost vicious need to pull Tobirama closer and bask in the spoils of rewards long overdue, Madara falls into stilled silence in the quiet early morning of the bedroom, hours after Tobirama had fallen into an exhausted slumber.
Madara blinks slowly as he takes it in- almost wary such an action would wake the other man and startle him from the bed and out of reach of Madara's greedy hands.
There, on the bridge of Tobirama’s nose, a light dusting of freckles.
They are almost indistinguishable if one wasn't close enough to truly look.
They insult Madara with their mere existence, for Madara had spent months, if not years watching Tobirama.
How long had they been there? Mocking Madara every waking moment Madara’s eyes laid upon Tobirama’s face in ignorance of what laid upon the very surface.
Madara prided himself in knowing everything he possibly could about this man, observing him whilst they worked, argued, ate, fought and now spent nights together and not once did Madara notice their presence.
It was infuriating.
Tobirama’s eye lashes flutter as consciousness returns to him- any shinobi worth a grain of salt knows when they're being watched.
Madara watches, memorized, as Tobirama’s nose crinkles and his freckles almost seem to dance in mockery.
They are obvious now, and Madara's pride has been called into question.
“Stop staring.” Tobirama grumbles, turning to bury his nose into the pillow.
The freckles hidden from view spurs Madara into action, shifting closer to further entangle himself with Tobirama.
“You're too warm, let go.” Tobirama growls into the pillow, his words muffled.
“Am I so inadequate as a bed partner you would banish me from your side so soon?”
“I would sooner banish you for simply existing. Don't push it.”
“Yet you've made no effort to move away.”
Tobirama heaves an aggravated sigh and simply burrows further into the pillow, making no efforts to move. Madara takes his victory with greed and trails his fingers lightly across his flesh, searching for any scars and blemishes and marks unknown to him.
“I didn't know you had a mole.”
Madara blinks.
“What was that?”
The sun had yet to fully rise. Madara knew that when it finally did, it would drive Tobirama from his bed all too soon.
He watches as Tobirama at last slowly turns his face from the pillow, blinking a single eye up at Madara, sleep desperately clinging to him like a weighted blanket.
His hair is tousled and tangled, a few strands stiff around his face, dried from sweat. His neck and shoulders are mottled with marks from Madara’s greedy mouth and gracious attention. In fact, no part of his body had escaped Madara’s affections and Tobirama bares those marks so beautifully, as though he were made for Madara and Madara alone.
Madara would expect nothing less.
Tobirama pulls slightly away to turn his body to face Madara. He nibbles on his lip for a moment of indecision before sighing and moving closer to bury his face into Madara’s chest, breath hot on Madara’s skin.
“You have a mole on your left breast.” Tobirama mumbles into Madara’s skin, sending shivers down Madara’s spine, only to pool low in his belly, his skin rapidly heating. “I didn’t know you had one there.”
The low simmering fire beneath Madara’s skin ignites at Tobirama’s petulant tone, liquid heat thrumming in Madara’s veins and threatening to consume everything in its wake.
Tobirama’s lips move lazily across Madara’s chest to settle gently upon Madara’s left breast to lay a soft kiss upon the mole Madara had given little to no thought to before this very moment.
Madara wants to devour this man– body and soul.
Freckles and all.