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Chapter Text

Mito Uzumaki did not have the Sharingan and the visual prowess the Uchiha clan possessed. Neither did she have the unique wood style kekkei genkai of her husband, nor the advanced sensor abilities of his brother. But she did have eyes, and a brain, and the ability to read a room.

Mito was well aware of the indescribable relationship her husband had with the intimidating head of the Uchiha clan. Hashirama had indulged her curiosity early in their arranged marriage and explained his complicated history with Madara.

And goddammit if it didn't sound near identical to a tragic love story.

Two friends with no animosity towards each other, quickly separated and pushed to become enemies at the behest of generational warfare. Brought together again after the near death of Madara’s younger brother, when the older Uchiha intended to exact his revenge, but was no match for Hashirama in the end.

Even now, Mito could clearly recall the heartfelt look that came across Hashirama’s face as he spoke of his friend, with a smile ever so soft, eyes crinkled gently at the corners.

“Madara is… a gift from the divine.” 

Hashirama had said this with so much reverence, Mito was almost sure he caught Madara during a fall from grace, just like an angel cast from heaven.

And really, that was enough to tell Mito that her husband had feelings for Madara. Hashirama had assured her time and time again that while their marriage was arranged, he did love and respect her.

Mito believed him. Hashirama wasn't a liar, and he wouldn't lie about loving her. But there was no denying Hashirama loved Madara, and Madara felt the same.

The intimidating clan head was hard to read at the best of times, either during meetings or even just strolling through the village with Izuna at his side. The Uchiha were a clan known for the intensity of their emotions, be it anger, love, hate or sadness. Though they were also known for having excellent poker faces, and Madara was a prime example of that.

But Madara had a softness about him around Hashirama, especially when left to their own devices. Mito had found him on more than one occasion, skipping rocks with Hashirama like they had when they were children. A brilliant smile on his face and rich, demure laughter filling the space between him and his dearest friend.

Hashirama would sport a matching look, laughing just as much, if a little louder and more carefree. It would tug unbearably hard on her heart strings when she had to separate them, either for village business or clan business or simply because it was almost nightfall and Tobirama would throw a fit if his brother wasn't present for dinner.

Their faces would fall in twain, sharing one last (dare she say longing?) look before parting ways, Hashirama with Mito, and Madara by his lonesome on the riverbank.

The longer Mito spent with Hashirama, in their home, in their bed, outside in the world, the more she could tell when he was thinking of Madara. He'd often look to the east, and trail the path of the sun with his eyes, whether it was there or not.

Mito found it kind of… cute, in a way. For all the bumbling her husband did, he was even more heartfelt and sincere when it came to Madara.

So, one night after they had finished eating (without Tobirama, who'd recently been seen fooling around with a mystery girl), Hashirama sat at the dining table still, cup of tea in hand as he watched the sun dip below the horizon, Mito reached for his hand and interlaced their fingers.

“My husband, I'd like to… make a proposal of sorts.” Mito prompted, throwing her plan into motion.

Hashirama turned to his wife, looking between her face and their interlocked hands a few times. He rests his other hand over hers and leans forward, focusing solely on her. “Yes of course Mito. Anything.”

Mito smiled. Her husband was too kind, too willing to make her happy, even if she was not the one he initially wanted or loved. He deserved something for all his self sacrifice, knowing that by marrying her, any chance he could have had in a relationship with Madara would likely be gone.

And that was without the “taboo” nature of them both being men added on top.

However, Mito was anything if not stubborn, and she believed damned if she just stood by and watched as Hashirama longed for a man that she had no problem letting him have. Especially when that man obviously felt the same.

“I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me. I promise I won't be upset or angry. Just tell me the truth.” She says softly.

Hashirama frowns, a little confused, but he nods slowly. “Alright…”

“Do you have feelings for Madara?”

Hashirama goes rigid, eyes widening as he leans back. “That's– I, well–,” he fumbles over his words.

Mito continues to smile, exuding patience and understanding. “It's okay. I know you have a complex relationship with one another, and while I know you care for me deeply, I think Madara is something special to you.”

Hashirama looks down, cheeks flushing a dark pink. There's a mix of guilt and shame in his eyes that makes her heart twist.

“It's nothing to be ashamed or guilty of.” Mito assures, firm but gentle. She reaches out with her other hand to cup his blushing cheek.

“I won't ever hold how you feel or who you love against you. I want you to be happy Hashirama.”

Hashirama leans into his wife's touch and he looks up, eyes misty. “Oh, Mito-hime…” And then he's pulling Mito across the table to hold her in his lap, wrapped in his arms.

Mito embraces him easily, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and tilting her head so he can bury his face in her neck. Hashirama pulls her closer, like she'd simply float away if he weren't there to anchor her.

Mito runs her fingers through his hair and lets him sniffle into her skin. After a few minutes, Hashirama finally pulls away, eyes red and a little puffy but no longer crying.

“This proposal of yours, what is it?” He wipes his eyes.

“Well, I was thinking that we could invite Madara to… join us.”

Hashirama blinks. “Join us?” He repeats back.

“Join us.” Mito nods.

As stated before, Mito Uzumaki may not have the Sharingan, but she did have eyes. And they do look favorably upon Madara Uchiha.

Initially she'd been wary of the man like everyone else. Stories of the Uchiha's terrifying capabilities spread far and wide, it was hard not to be a little careful around him.

But when Madara was around Hashirama, he was more of a man and less of a fearsome warrior. He became just another villager, one who happened to be ingrained into Hashirama’s inner circle like Mito had, who liked falconry as a hobby, and always ordered inarizushi at the sushi bars.

Hashirama humanized Madara in the eyes of many, and she believed Madara himself recognized that as well.

There were also the weekly spars Madara demanded from Hashirama, that Mito attended as the dutiful wife she was. It definitely wasn't an excuse to watch her drop dead gorgeous husband fight his equally drop dead gorgeous friend. Shirtless. Sweaty. Out in the open. For anyone to see.

Indeed, there was nothing more wifely than watching your shirtless husband and his shirtless friend with drool worthy builds exchange blows, muscles rippling, abs flexing and backs arching.

Mito wasn't aware that Madara was so flexible he could kick so hard and high that his knee would almost meet his jaw, stopped only by his impressive control of his body. It often gave her a spectacular view of his ass too, which probably felt even better than it looked.

Her husband wasn't any safer from her wandering eyes. She wondered if Hashirama would let her lick the sweat trailing down his abs towards the barely hidden ‘v’ line of his lower abdomen one of these days.

She wondered if he would let Madara do it at the same time as her. Now that was an idea.

“Mito?”

Mito immediately comes back to herself. She smiles. “I must say, I quite like Madara too. I think I'm starting to understand what you meant when you called him a ‘gift from the divine.’”

Hashirama stares for a moment, carefully digesting his wife's words, then gawks at her. “Have you… been checking Madara out?”

Mito huffs. “Like you're not close to drooling over him whenever you two meet up.”

Hashirama's jaw drops further, face flushing a dark shade of pink, hands tangling in her yukata. “M-Mito!”

Mito's smile is cheeky. “He looks at you the same. Madara may think he's sly, but I've seen those eyes of his wander over you more than a few times.” She teases, dragging her hands over his shoulders to rest on his chest.

Hashirama’s face turns a deep shade of red altogether. He covers his eyes with one hand, avoiding Mito's capricious stare. “Just–what is this proposal of yours?”

Mito hums. “Well, like I said, I have taken a liking to Madara. And you already like him. What if we invited him to dinner one evening and… tested his reactions?”

Hashirama pulls his hand away from his eyes to frown at Mito curiously. “Tested his reactions?”

Mito nods and leans back a little, balancing her weight evenly across Hashirama’s lap. “We could see how he reacts to our touch and proximity. Maybe make suggestive comments to gauge his reaction to our advances. I'm sure if he doesn't like it he would stop us immediately and leave. Madara’s not a push over.”

Hashirama contemplates this idea quietly, fingers drumming against Mito's hip. “This could work. Izuna's been running off around dinner time lately apparently, so Madara’s been a little lonely because of it. He would probably appreciate being invited over for dinner.”

Mito grins. “Depending on his comfort level he might get even more than dinner.”

Hashirama huffs out a laugh. “When exactly did you get so rambunctious hm, Mito-hime?” He gently guides her chin to look up at him, with a mischievous smile.

Mito blushes and returns his smile. “Surely you know by now just how playful I can be.” She leans in, breath fanning across her husband's lips.

Hashirama makes a noise of agreement, a subtle rumble in his throat as he teasingly brushes his lips over hers. “Maybe you can give me a reminder?”

Chapter Text

Both Hashirama and Mito spend the next two weeks planning the penultimate dinner for Madara. Mito puts in a request for a rare type of salmon found in the river where the Uzumaki clan resides, and also puts in an order with a local merchant for a yuzu flavored sake she recalled Madara ordering at the sushi bars on occasion.

Hashirama spent the next two weeks doing research on how the more intimate aspects of this plan would work when he wasn't being the hokage or the head of the Senju. He had managed to find some aged scrolls that were likely medical scrolls at some point, now turned to antiques in his attic. They did reveal a surprising amount of information though, and it was an interesting conversation to have over dinner with Mito.

“Do you think we should test this?” Mito asks innocently between a bite of sauteed vegetables.

Hashirama lowers his chopsticks, head tilting. “Test what?”

Mito gestures with her chopsticks, eyes gleaming. “What you just told me–stretching and prepping for the best and safest experience. You wouldn't want to hurt Madara by accident would you?”

Hashirama shifts nervously. “You think we should?”

Mito smiles innocently. “We should be prepared, don't you think?”

And that's how Hashirama ended up naked on his back, legs spread with his wife between them, fingers slathered in oil. Hashirama gulps, nervous and a little ashamed at being laid out like this so vulnerably. He had cleaned himself thoroughly beforehand, but it wasn't everyday your wife was playing with your asshole, so he felt he had a right to be a little anxious.

Mito places a warm hand on her husband's thigh and wraps the other lubed hand around his half hard cock. She looks up at him and strokes him a few times, squeezing his thigh before dipping her fingers in more oil. “Ready?”

Hashirama’s breath stutters as fingers wrap around his cock. He swallows around his dry tongue again and nods. “As-As I'll ever be…”

Mito places a kiss to her husband's inner thigh and shimmies lower on their futon for a better angle, fingers dipping between plump cheeks. “Just tell me if you need me to stop.”

Mito's fingers gently press to her husband's puckered rim, and she carefully swirls around it, spreading oil around it to get him used to the feeling. Hashirama's thighs twitch, a quiet breath escaping him as her fingers slip over his hole a few times. She strokes his cock too, just to keep him aroused and feeling good and loose for the next part.

After about a minute or so, Mito feels Hashirama relax and she takes that as a sign to push forward, literally. “Okay, I'm going to put a finger in…” She warns in advance giving him enough time to earn her just in case.

Hashirama doesn't vocalize a need to to stop though, so Mito very gently presses the tip of her oiled index finger to his pucker and presses until it slips in.

Hashirama’s thighs jerk and a quiet noise escapes him, but he doesn't reach down to stop her.

Mito very slowly pushes more of her finger into her husband's hole until her knuckle presses against his rim. She looks up at her husband, pressing her thumb to the tip of his cock with the other hand. “How do you feel?”

Hashirama's breaths are slow and deep, chest rising and falling in sync. He looks down at Mito with dark pink cheeks. “I-It’s... strange. It doesn't hurt, but it does feel… weird…”

Mito hums and slowly pulls her finger out a centimeter or two then just as slowly pushes it back in. “Do you want me to keep going?”

Hashirama lets out a long breath then nods. “Yes… I–We should do our best to get this right for Madara…”

Mito smiles and presses her thumb to the underside of her husband's cock, right under the tip. He gasps, hips jerking and she pulls her finger out more then thrusts it back in again, working up a slow rhythm. “I guess in the worst case scenario, you could suck his cock while I played with his nipples. Or vice versa.”

Hashirama’s eyes flutter. “H-Huh…?”

His cock throbs against her palm. Mito grins and gently begins to swirl her finger inside him, barely crooking here and there. “Maybe you could help me ride him? Put your hands on my hips and guide me as I bounce up and down on his cock. You could kiss him at the same time he's fucking me.”

Hashirama moans quietly, cock jerking in her hand as she pulls her finger all the way out and presses two back in. “W-Where is all of this coming from?”

Mito pumps two fingers in and out, spreading them and curling them as she goes. “You know I have a vivid imagination.”

Hashirama gasps and curls forward suddenly when he feels Mito's fingers press deep, the tip of her middle finger pressing into a firm spot that sends sparks through his cock.

Mito's eyes darken and she presses her fingers into that spot again and again, soaking up every reaction she gets from her husband.

Hashirama’s head dips back, vision spinning as Mito continues to hit that spot. It's unlike anything he's ever felt before either by himself or with Mito. It's a raw, undiluted pleasure that crawls through his veins pleasantly, encouraging his cock to jerk and throb, still held in Mito's hand.

“M-Mito…” Hashirama pants, heat coiling in pllllhis gut.

Mito continues to stroke his cock, making sure her fingers run over the head on each up stroke while her other fingers hit that spot repeatedly.

Hashirama’s orgasm builds slow and strong. He fists the sheets in both of his hands and bucks his hips into his wife's hands. The pleasure continues to build impossibly high, Hashirama is almost worried about what will happen when he finally cums.

Mito presses her fingers a little deeper, hitting the spot with more force and Hashirama’s eyes roll back.

He cums with a low whine, legs spasming while his cock erupts in Mito's palm, coating her fingers in his hot spend.

Mito continues to stroke him and press against that spot until his knees squeeze her shoulders and his hand reaches for hers, weakly pulling at her wrist a mumbled “too much…” falling from his lips.

Her hands slow to a stop and she carefully pulls away. Mito breaks away from Hashirama’s body to retrieve a warm rag and returns to gently wipe away his cum, being extra careful around his cock. Then she crawls up his body to lay down beside him, kissing his cheek a few times until he huffs a tired laugh.

“Was it good? Do you feel like you understand how everything works now?” She asks, snuggling up to him.

Hashirama grunts and nods, pulling his wife closer. “Yeah… I think I got it…” His hands slide under the hem of her robe, eagerly crawling up her stomach to her breast.

Hashirama drags his lips over the hollow of Mito's throat. “I still want to take care of you though…” He spreads her thighs.

Mito watches with wide eyes and burning cheeks as her husband shoulders between her legs, resting her knees over them. “I-I thought you were tired…”

Hashirama’s gaze is hot enough to scald her as he pulls her robes apart, revealing her wet pussy. “I can't go to bed and leave my wife unsatisfied. What kind of husband  would I be?”

“I-I can take care of myself just fine, thank you!" She argues in a fluster.

Hashirama sucks at the inside of her thighs.

“You'll allow your husband to treat you, won't you?” He smirks, lips hovering over her pussy.

“Besides, you know you're my favorite thing to eat…” He whispers loud enough for Mito to hear before he's diving in, sliding his tongue up her slit until he reaches her clit.

Mito gasps and reaches for her husband, threading her fingers through his hair. Hashirama groans into her and pulls her closer, burying his tongue inside her tight hole.

Mito pants and whines as Hashirama spreads her wide and forces his tongue impossibly deeper. Her breath catches a little and she tugs harder on Hashirama’s hair.

Hashirama doesn't do anything other than groan again and continue feasting on his wife's delectable pussy. He wasn't lying when he said she was his favorite thing to eat. A perfect day would start with eating her pussy and end with it too.

“H-Hashirama…” Mito gasps, thighs clenching around her husband's head.

Hashirama hums, knowing she can feel the vibrations from it and smirks with delight when her thighs jump against his cheeks. A hand slides down her thigh while his tongue pistons inside her. Two of his fingers easily find her clit, still wet from her arousal and his saliva and begin rubbing in quick, tight circles.

Mito arches forward, lifting her back off the bed to curl over Hashirama completely as she cums with a whimpering moan, pussy tightening and fluttering around Hashirama’s tongue.

His fingers don't stop rubbing at her clit until the spasming of her pussy calms down and she starts to tremble a little. Hashirama finally pulls back, licking her clit one final time just to hear her gasp before he officially stops, letting her quivering thighs slide from his shoulders.

He looks up at Mito with a smirk, eyes shining with pride and mischief. He licks his lips. “Maybe we should put you on the dinner menu for when Madara comes over.”

Mito scoffs, still catching her breath. She playfully smacks his shoulder as he crawls back into his spot in the bed beside her, pulling her robe back into place and wrapping his arms around her.

“If Madara came over and saw me laid out on the table like an appetizer he'd probably never speak to me again.” She voices, snuggling up to her husband with a satisfied and tired sigh.

Hashirama laughs heartily and pulls her closer. “If we covered you in inarizushi he might be tempted.”

“As if…” She mutters sleepily into his chest.

Hashirama chuckles and runs his fingers through his wife's vivid hair. “I'd be tempted.”

“I could be covered in mud and you'd still be tempted.” She points out.

“Are you offering?”

“Go to sleep.”

Chapter Text

Friday evening rolls around with all the grace of a sunrise. The sky is clear blue, the weather is perfect, and Mito and Hashirama have an immaculate meal and environment set up for dinner.

They switched out their usual dining table for a slightly smaller one, ensuring a more intimate meal with Madara. A few sandalwood incense sticks were set on a nearby shelf to add another heady layer, not potent enough to overwhelm, but enough to capture one's attention briefly. A few modest candles were lit as well, imbuing the atmosphere with something sensual.

The married couple had also taken care to clean themselves thoroughly, should tonight's escapades go as they hoped. As Mito slathered her skin in a lightly scented oil, she pondered if Madara also took such lengths with his bathing, since he didn't know what they were planning.

Hashirama had assured her that the Uchiha clan had a strict and in depth bathing and self-care regimen according to what Madara had told him in the hot springs one day. It had been part of the clan's traditions and superstitions it seemed.

“‘Fight dirty, but live cleanly,’ is what I think he said.” Hashirama iterated.

Mito hummed thoughtfully at that information and continued to apply her oil, content with that answer.

Just as the sun began to dip below the horizon and Mito had finished setting the table with their meal and plates, there came a knock on the door. Hashirama shared a look with his wife, who in turn smiled back and nodded reassuringly.

Hashirama swings the door open excitedly with a smile that was brighter than the sun and true to his character.

On the other side was Madara, dressed casually in a dark blue tunic and matching pants. A small basket of fresh fruit was carefully held in the crook of his arm.

Hashirama beams at him. “Madara! Come in, come in! We're ecstatic to have you!” He greets, eagerly ushering Madara into their home with a few measured waves.

Madara sighs, but there's the barest hint of an exasperated but fond smile on his lips as he steps over the threshold. “Yes, yes, it's good to see you too. You don't need to get all worked up.”

“Nonsense! I'm always happy to see one of my most treasured friends!” Hashirama defends as he guides Madara to the dining room.

Hashirama thanks Madara for the fruit basket and takes it to the kitchen to chill. Madara looks around the dining area, taking in the low light, flickering candles, and incense.

“Thank you for having me, Mito. This is quite the lovely set up you have here.” He compliments, moving towards the small dining table where Mito is laying out utensils for each place.

Mito looks up at Madara with a gentle smile. “Please, we're more than happy to have you, Madara. Hashirama said that Izuna's been running off during dinner?” She asks, keeping the conversation light as she begins pouring cups of tea from the ornate pot on the table.

Madara sighs and crosses his arms as he watches her. “Yes. He makes up a different excuse every time. I usually don't see him until the morning after. But, he's always unharmed and in good spirits then, so I let it slide.”

Mito hums thoughtfully and sets the ornate teapot down now that the tea cups are filled. “Interesting. Do you think he's seeing someone?”

Madara scoffs. “Probably. I've seen quite a few suspicious looking bruises peeking out of the collar of his tunics lately.”

“Oh? How scandalous.” Mito quips and looks up at Madara again. She eyes the hem of his tall collar with interest, wondering what the ‘suspicious bruises’ would look like on Madara’s skin, littered around his neck and chest.

He's quite fair, bruises and bitemarks would put a nice pop of color on him…

Hashirama re-enters the room, carrying the bottle of sake Mito had specially ordered and an accompanying set of cups. “Alright! The fruit is chilling. Let's all dig in!”

Hashirama and Mito both sit across from each other at the small table, leaving the head seat for Madara. The Uchiha tilts his head curiously for a moment, figuring that Hashirama would be at the head of the table, but ultimately shakes it off and takes his seat. Who's he to question them in their own home after all.

Hashirama and Mito meet eyes, mirroring each other's pleasure at Madara’s acceptance. And with that, they put their plan of wooing Madara into action.

They spend the next hour or so in polite conversation while they eat, sipping on tea and sake. Madara is delighted by the salmon and the yuzu sake, and he partakes in both with a pleased hum and smile.

There's also lots of touching. The table is rather small, and on a normal day would fit Hashirama and Mito just fine. Madara is not quite as tall or broad as Hashirama, but he's bigger than Mito, and takes up more space. The places at the table leave little room as well, and Madara consistently bumps hands with both of them as he reaches for something.

After the first few brushes of hands and fingers though, he stops apologizing and accepts the touching, as neither Hashirama or Mito appear to be offended by it, and it's not like he means anything by it. The table is just small. That's all. And Madara continues to let his guard down the longer the dinner goes on.

Hashirama and Mito share another pleased look as Madara adopts a pretty, pale pink blush from the sake. He's not drunk, but he's relaxed if the slight give in his posture is anything to go by.

Phase 2.

Mito leans forward and sets her saucer of sake down. “Are you seeing anyone Madara? Surely you must be quite popular.”

Madara raises an eyebrow and scoffs. “Most women fear me. And those who don't will once they find out who I am.” He responds dryly, finishing off what's left of his sake.

Mito tsks and shakes her head. “Well that's a shame. You're a handsome man, Madara. A very handsome man.” Mito stresses, looking him up and down with a reserved hunger.

Hashirama nods in agreement and pours himself another round of sake. “Mito is right. You're very attractive.” He reaches forward with the sake bottle, offering Madara a refill, grinning all the while.

Madara’s cheeks turn pinker while he allows Hashirama to refill his sake. “You're both being awfully… forward this evening.”

“We've been… thinking lately…” Mito leads and scoots closer to Madara until she's practically leaning into him.

Madara tenses and looks at Mito dumbfounded as her hand wanders up his arm to his shoulder. “Um…” He looks to Hashirama for help, or perhaps hope that his best friend isn't upset that his wife is hitting on another man.

Hashirama has scooted closer as well, and he cups Madara’s cheek then tilts his head up. “You know… I've always felt some kind of way about you, Madara…” He says softly.

Madara doesn't move, doesn't breathe, too stunned to react. He can only stare at Hashirama as Mito runs her fingers up his arm, to his shoulder and into his hair to play with the thick locks.

The Uchiha swallows, his brain finally registering what's been said. “I… What exactly do you mean by that…?”

Hashirama hums and brushes his thumbs over Madara’s cheekbones and under his eyes. “It means that I've always had feelings for you. The moment we skipped those rocks on the riverbank, I knew we were meant to be together.”

Madara cannot wipe the shocked look off of his face. He glances at Mito, who simply continues to play with his hair with a knowing smile. “And you… you're okay with this…? You're not angry?”

Mito's smile gets wider, and the fingers she has weaved in Madara’s hair slowly drift down to play over his neck and teasingly dip under his collar. “I've grown to like you quite a bit Madara… Do you think we can share?”

Madara shivers and gulps, throat bobbing. Hashirama’s fingers slide over his jaw. “This goes as far as you want it too. Say the word and we'll stop…” He promises gently.

Mito nods in agreement, carefully tracing her fingers over Madara’s collarbones.

Madara looks between Hashirama and Mito, cheeks turning a darker shade of pink. “Well… it's just the mechanics of it all…”

Mito leans up, lips brushing over his ear. “Don't worry, we practiced…” She whispers sultrily. “Just for you…”

Madara’s face gets redder. “O-Oh…”

Hashirama hums and leans closer, smirking when Madara’s eyes get wider and his blush begins to spread down his neck. “So, what do you think…?”

Madara holds his breath for a moment and glances between Hashirama and Mito one last time. “... How could I refuse…?”

Hashirama’s smirk turns into a full blown grin and he softly cups Madara’s face in both of his hands and leans down to kiss him. Mito occupies herself with kissing Madara’s neck, dragging her lips over where his pulse flutters against her tongue and letting her teeth gently glide over some of his collarbone.

Hashirama starts off with the innocent press of his lips to Madara’s, giving the other man time to pull back just in case. Madara does the opposite and leans into him.

Hashirama brushes his tongue against Madara’s lips, and the Uchiha shyly parts his lips.

Hashirama goes for the kill.

He leans further into Madara, pressing their bodies together. Madara’s gasp is a thing of beauty and gives Hashirama more room to push his tongue into Madara’s mouth.

At the same time, Mito pulls the zipper of his tunic down slowly, exposing more of his chest and providing easier access to his neck that she takes advantage of.

Madara’s attention is split impossibly between the tongue in his mouth and the lips against his neck, both eliciting goosebumps from him as Mito pushes his tunic open until it's just barely hanging on to his shoulders.

Hashirama parts from Madara’s lips, enjoying the dazed look in his dark eyes. He takes his turn to kiss down Madara’s neck and taste the skin there.

Madara has only a moment to catch his breath before a soft hand turns his face down, and his lips are captured again this time by Mito.

Mito gently moves her lips against his, sucking at his bottom lip playfully as Hashirama pushes the rest of Madara’s tunic off so he can run calloused hands over the pale, lean muscle of Madara’s arms and abs.

Mito tangles her hands in Madara’s hair, scratching his scalp with her dull nails. Madara groans into her mouth and she grins against his lips.

Hashirama’s hands wander slowly over Madara’s body, cataloging every scar his fingers pass over. They glide over his abs, and Hashirama’s eyes darken as he watches Madara’s stomach dip in response. He continues trailing his fingers up, up, up until his thumb swipes over one Madara’s nipples experimentally.

Madara breaks from his kiss with Mito, a high pitched gasp escaping him.

Hashirama and Mito share a glance, then look at Madara who's flustered beyond belief. Hashirama pushes Madara to the ground, making the Uchiha yelp in surprise, his feet kicking the table as he's forced to his back.

Hashirama leans down to Madara’s chest and captures a nipple in his mouth. Mito follows suit, laving her tongue over the other and tracing circles around it while watching carefully for Madara’s reaction.

Madara’s chest arches up into their mouths with a choked whimper, hand held over his mouth as he looks down at them both with lidded eyes.

Mito carefully drags her teeth over Madara’s nipple just to watch him jump then pulls back with a satisfied smile and flushed cheeks. “I think we should take this to the bedroom…”

Hashirama hums around the nipple between his lips and Madara throws his head back with another groan, hand landing on Hashirama’s shoulder. “I couldn't agree more.”

Mito shifts to the side gracefully and Hashirama loops one of Madara’s arms around his back, then wraps his own arm around Madara’s back and throws the Uchiha over his shoulder like a human sized sack of potatoes.

Madara grunts and squirms against Hashirama, trying to get free. “Hashirama, I can walk!” He seethes, getting more rowdy as Hashirama begins to walk down the hall with Mito following behind them, grinning at Madara’s ire.

Hashirama playfully smacks Madara’s ass making the other man yelp and glare at the back of his from where he resides over his shoulder. “You won't be able to once we're done with you.”

Madara scoffs and the blush on his cheeks spreads down his neck and to his chest. “I'm not that easy…”

“Of course.” Mito replies gleefully, looking pointedly at his hard nipples, still shiny from their saliva.

Madara glares at her petulantly, but it's hard for her to feel threatened or scared when his face is a lovely shade of red from their combined teasing.

Hashirama lays Madara down on their bed atop fresh sheets and blankets, then crawls on top to kiss him again, straddling his hips and gently cupping his face to drag him up so they can meet in the middle.

Mito rolls her eyes fondly and begins undoing her kimono as she pads to the bathroom to grab the lube for the evening's festivities. The bottle in question has been sat on top of a seal specifically used to keep things warm, a trick Tobirama had taught her not too long ago.

When she returns with the warm bottle in nothing but her underwear, Hashirama has already done a thorough job divesting Madara of the tunic that had been trapped around one of his wrists, as well as his gloves and pants.

Madara eagerly pushes and pulls at Hashirama’s clothes, trying to get them off. But he seems to have trouble with how fiercely Hashirama is kissing him, getting Hashirama’s kimono to his shoulders before getting distracted and ending up back at square one.

Mito watches quietly for a moment, enjoying the scene as more heat joins what was already present in her stomach.

Hashirama rolls his hips down into Madara’s and Madara’s groan echoes in their room, and his hands fist in Hashirama’s silky locks, eagerly returning the kiss.

Hashirama’s hands guide Madara's hips up to grind into his and Madara finally breaks the kiss with a breathy moan of his name that has Mito rubbing her thighs together.

“H-Hashirama…” He pants with parted lips and lidded eyes.

Hashirama looks down at him, catching his own breath, then pulls away to start disrobing himself.

Again, Mito is distracted by watching her husband strip down to nothing, pussy throbbing at the sight of him doing just that. She shakes her head, remembering this about Madara, and crawls onto the bed to finish pulling Madara’s underwear off.

Madara’s cock slips out, hard and leaking against his thigh. It's just as pale as the rest of him, but the tip is flushed just like his cheeks. Madara’s pubes are dark and neatly trimmed just above the base.

Her mouth waters. “What a gorgeous cock.” She traces her fingers over him from root to tip, pressing her thumb into his clans.

Madara’s breath catches and his hips twitch up, the head of his cock bumping into Mito's fingers, drooling pre over them.

Mito licks her fingers easily with a hum. “You taste good too.” She licks her lips.

A warm hand gently wraps around her throat from behind and glides upwards to tilt her chin back so she can meet Hashirama’s eyes. “Now, now… you can suck his cock later. Knowing your skill, he'd cum down your throat too quickly.”

Mito pouts and Hashirama chuckles, squishing her cheeks as he takes the warmed lube from her hand. “Just keep him entertained while I prep his ass.”

Mito huffs in disappointment but allows her husband to squirm some lube into her hand. She shimmies up beside Madara to kiss him again and skillfully wraps her fingers around his cock, giving it a good squeeze before stroking up.

Hashirama splits his attention between watching Madara and Mito kiss and tubing his fingers properly. By the time it's dripping down his wrist, he figures it's enough.

Hashirama spreads Madara’s legs apart and pushes them back by his knees to get better access. Madara’s thighs twitch, feet curling as Hashirama presses a slick digit against his hole and just circles gently.

Mito strokes his cock slowly, stopping every now and then between heated kisses to play with Madara’s tip and watch his hips buck.

It doesn't take long before Madara is bucking down, trying to get Hashirama to push the finger at his hole in.

Hashirama grins and slowly pushes his finger in.

Madara’s breathing picks up and he pants against Mito's lips, squeezing around the finger inside him. It's a strange feeling, not painful, but new. It's enough to interrupt his daze, and turn his eyes on Mito.

Mito watches her husband slowly introduce another finger into Madara while she strokes his cock, she's caught off guard when Madara suddenly cups her cheek and turns her face so their lips meet.

Madara’s kiss is ravenous. Now that he's finally caught up with the program and has some sense back, he can finally return some attention to Mito.

Madara slips a hand between her thighs and slips his fingers over her wet pussy lips. Mito gasps into his mouth and grinds down, her own hand picking up the pace on his cock slightly, making his own hips buck.

Hashirama watches two of the most important people in his life pleasure each other and his own cock throbs, leaking against the bedding. He focuses on spreading his fingers and stretching Madara, pushing deeper inside just like Mito had done to him. His middle finger wiggles further in, and brushes against a spot that's a little firmer.

Hashirama grins and glances up at Madara and Mito, who are both still occupied by each other. Mito's legs are spread now, and Madara is slowly rubbing her clit with three of his fingers while Mito rubs her thumb across his tip.

Hashirama curls his middle finger into that spot experimentally.

Madara breaks the kiss with a jolt and a gasp, his cock kicking in Mito's palm. “S-Shit! The hell was–?!” Madara throws his head back, spine bowing upward, a loud groan pouring from his lips.

Hashirama watches Madara’s reactions closely, enjoying the way each press of his fingers to that spot makes the other man convulse in different ways.

Unable to hold back, Hashirama presses against that spot and rubs it back and forth in quick succession.

Madara's reaction alone is enough to make Hashirama cum.

The Uchiha's eyes widen and his cock jumps in Mito's hand while she squeezes around him. His hips buck once, thighs squeezing around Hashirama’s hips as he spurts onto his stomach with a cry that only ratchets Hashirama’s hunger for the other higher.

Mito strokes him through it, enjoying the whimpers Madara tries to hold back against her shoulder. She gives Hashirama a disappointed look.

“I'm the one who's going to make him cum too quickly?” She deadpans.

Hashirama’s smile is both apologetic but pleased. He wiggles his fingers inside Madara again, eliciting another whimper. “He was being so hot, squirming and moaning like that. I couldn't resist.”

Mito shakes her head then turns her attention to Madara, releasing his cock. She licks his cum from her fingers while he watches, then pushes some of his bangs out of his face to get a better look at him.

“How are you feeling?” She asks, gently running her fingers over his cheek.

Madara’s chest heaves as he catches his breath, eyes dark as they search Mito's.

“... I want more…”

Hashirama pulls his fingers out of Madara, making the other man gasp. He reaches for the lube and lathers some onto his cock, then lathers some onto Madara’s, who's already half hard again.

Mito shimmies down Madara’s side and throws a leg over his hips to straddle him, wet pussy pressed against his slick cock.

Hashirama presses the tip of his own cock to Madara’s waiting hole and leans over Mito's shoulder as she adjusts Madara’s cock to be pressed against her entrance. He kisses up her shoulder to her neck.

“Ready?” He breathes out to both of his lovers.

Madara grins sultrily, laid out beneath them both like some kind salacious creature of myth, hair fanned out around his head, eyes dark, sweat and cum adding a sheen to his skin. “Just fuck me already.”

Mito shrugs, and sinks down on his Madara’s cock, smiring as she watches Madara eat his words in real time.

His grin quickly turns into a look of ecstasy, head tilted back and brows furrowed as his cock is engulfed by Mito's tight heat. His hands immediately find her hips, fingers digging into her flesh.

Mito isn't completely unaffected either, her eyes flutter and she bites her lip as Madara’s cock sinks inside her, stretching her deliciously as she flutters around him.

Hashirama gives Madara a moment to catch his breath before grabbing his thighs and pushing his hips forward, cock slowly sinking into Madara’s tight ass.

Madara’s head spins, and he realizes that he might have bit off more than he can chew goading both Mito and Hashirama to just fuck him. Mito is warm and wet and tight around his cock, and he's still a little sensitive from cumming not five minutes ago. Hashirama fills him in a way he didn't realize he'd longed for, and he didn't anticipate it being this good to take dick.

Mito lifts her hips slightly and drops down.

Oh… Madara is fucked. Literally.

Mito lifts her hips again, sliding up and down his cock at a slow pace, feeling out the best rhythm and angle. She could be moving at a snails pace, and he'd still be gripping her hips hard enough for bruises to be left behind in an effort to not cum so eay again.

Madara almost feels like he can manage until Hashirama starts moving. The slow drag of a cock pulling out of him almost all the way just to push back in at an equally gentle speed is enough to make him cum.

He holds Mito down as he cums inside of her, cock pulsing as he spills against slick heat. Mito squeezes around him and another spurt coats her walls.

Hashirama grunts as Madara clenches down on him, fingers digging into Madara’s thighs and no doubt leaving bruises that will mirror Mito's. His own cock throbs as he's squeezed, but orgasm is still a little further away.

Madara shivers, panting as his cock remains half hard inside Mito. He's usually not a quick shot, but taking dick while simultaneously giving it is a surprisingly religious experience.

Mito's shaking on top of him, and it takes Madara a long moment to realize she's laughing.

His pride stings just a little. He rolls his hips up and she gasps, almost toppling over, steadying herself by grabbing his shoulders.

He purses his lips. “What's so funny?”

Mito catches her breath and giggles again. “You're cute. That's all.”

Madara’s ears burn and he pouts. “I'm a god of war.”

Hashirama hooks his head over Mito's shoulder to look down at Madara with a loving grin. “You're a very cute god of war.”

Madara's eyebrow twitches, and just as he's about to argue back, Mito lifts herself up and drops down on his cock again while Hashirama begins a slow rhythm of thrusting in and out of him.

Madara gasps, spine bowing. His hands release Mito to fist into the blankets as they both begin to truly move in sync.

Mito moans as she picks up her pace, slamming her hips down harder as Madara’s cock hits the same spot Hashirama’s does when they have sex.

“Fuck! His c-cock's as good as yours Hashirama…” She moans and leans forward over Madara, hands sliding down to play with his nipples.

Madara moans and whines, previously unimaginable ecstasy washing over him as he's attacked from all sides, even more sensitive now.

Hashirama huffs out a laugh and moves his hips faster and leans forward more, trying to get the right angle–

Hashirama thrusts inside and Madara convulses, nearly bucking Mito off of him as Hashirama strikes his prostate.

Naturally, Hashirama does it again, and again, watching Madara buck into Mito, who also looks like she's holding on by a thread while still attempting play with Madara’s nipples.

Hashirama keeps thrusting into Madara, nailing the same spot over and over, entranced by Madara's whimpers and Mito's moans.

He feels his own end nearing, and he manages to slip a hand between Mito and Madara to rub his wife's clit.

Mito whines and grabs Hashirama’s hand, still bouncing on Madara’s cock. “I-I'm gonna cum…” She whimpers.

“S-Shit… me too, it's t-too much…” Madara moans, writhing as Hashirama picks up the pace, fucking into him in short sharp thrusts.

“P-Please… I'm so close… F-Feels so good…”

Hashirama concentrates every ounce of energy into getting Madara and Mito to cum first. His efforts are rewarded quickly when Mito bites into Madara’s shoulder with a squeal, hips slamming down onto Madara’s one final time, legs shaking.

Madara’s eyes roll back, the sting of Mito's bite and constant battering of his prostate sending him over the edge into another orgasm. He writhes beneath Mito as his cock unleashes it's last pitiful load into her, just a few drops of cum that dribble from his tip.

Hashirama continues fucking into Madara, watching his face contort from overstimulation. It probably doesn't help that Mito is still rocking her hips, milking her own orgasm.

“H-Hashi… c-can't…” He stutters, squirming.

Hashirama grips his thighs tighter holding him in place. “Just a little longer…” He pants, his orgasm edging closer.

Madara is borderline crying now, eyes welling with tears from the pleasure. Hashirama watches a tear roll down Madara’s cheek and thrusts one last time, cumming with groan as he collapses on top of Mito, filling Madara with his load.

Madara hiccups, body jerking as Hashirama’s cock nails his prostate one last time. His cock twitches inside of Mito, but nothing comes out. They milked him completely dry.

It takes Hashirama a few moments to catch his breath, but the sight he gets is one that will be burned into his memory forever.

Mito is splayed across Madara’s chest, face flushed and panting as she comes down from her high. Madara has tear stains running down his cheeks and appears to be on another plane of existence as he continues to twitch and jerk from aftershocks cumming for the fourth or fifth time. Or sixth? Hashirama didn't really keep count.

He slowly pulls out, mindful of Madara’s sensitivity, and helps Mito lift herself off Madara’s cock, which slips from her pussy and flops onto his stomach with wet ‘plop!’

Mito's thighs are covered in both hers and Madara’s release, and Hashirama has half a mind to clean her with his tongue, but opts to retrieve a towel and a few warm wet cloths instead.

He's confident this won't be the last time Madara cums in Mito's pussy anyways.

He cleans Mito up first, and kisses her cheek when he dries her off, making her smile. He moves on to Madara, who looks like he was thoroughly fucked into the mattress, a mess of black hair and sweat and cum.

He wipes Madara down carefully while Mito works on running her fingers through his long hair to remove any tangles while muttering quiet praises to him. Madara leans into Mito's touch tiredly, and it's enough to make Hashirama’s heart skip a beat from the cute visual.

When he finishes cleaning Madara up, he presses a kiss to his cheek as well, and the other man huffs, but there's a tiny smile on his face he can't hide.

Hashirama wipes himself down and dumps all their clothes and the used towels into a hamper.

Madara is already asleep by the time Hashirama crawls into bed and wraps an arm around his waist to pull him close. Mito snuggles up to his other side, resting against his shoulder over his heart, and they drift off like that.

Madara wakes up around sunrise, tired but satisfied and unbearably thirsty. He attempts to move but a strong arm holds him in place.

A bleary glance over his shoulder tells him that Hashirama is the culprit, and he's mirrored the gesture to Mito, who's half thrown herself over his chest while Madara slept with his back to them. Hashirama’s head rests against the back of Madara’s though, and it does something to his heart that makes him giddy.

It takes a few minutes, but Madara manages to untangle himself from Hashirama without waking either of them, and he sets out for the kitchen, wrapped loosely in a yukata that was already laid out.

He quietly pads across wooden floors to the kitchen, past the dinner table where everything started last night. He completely forgot about the fruit he bought. Considering the desert he had though, he can't complain.

He throws back a glass of water and sets a pot of tea to boil on the stove.

“B-Big brother…?”

Madara whirls around, and comes face to face with Izuna, who's dressed in a similar yukata, neck and chest littered in purple and red love bites.

“Izuna? What are…?”

The two stare at each other for a moment in shock, connecting the dots in real time.

“This is where you've been going…?”

“It was you that was over for dinner last night…?”

“But that means–”

Tobirama rounds the corner, shirtless and covered in hickeys just like Izuna. He stops dead at the sight of Madara, looking between him and Izuna a few times, a kaleidoscope of emotions crossing his face.

“Tobirama! Good morn–!” Hashirama rounds the corner and freezes, eyes flicking between Madara, Izuna and Tobirama.

Tobirama turns to Hashirama in a fluster. “Elder brother what is the meaning of this?!”

Hashirama points at Izuna and looks at Tobirama. “Wait… you.. is Izuna?”

Mito walks into the kitchen and past everyone to the pot of tea on the stove. She was gonna need it.