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Madara doesn't even glance as Hashirama's hand snakes its way into his pants. Everyone can smell the camphor and cedar, the wet earth and ozone rut pheromones strong enough to make eyes water. Madara takes a deep, indulgent breath of them, tasting Hashirama on his tongue, heady and familiar and his. The clan heads around the table, Nara and Hyuuga, Fuu and Hagoromo and Akimichi and the newly joined Aburame averted their eyes politely, but Madara saw the flaring of nostrils around the table.
Good, he thought, smug and posessive as Hashirama caressed his dick, not even bothering to hide what he was doing. Madara shifted in the other man's lap, unsubtly grinding against the weapon that was leaking and hard against his back. He allowed the diffusion of his own scent, intertwined with Hashirama's, claiming and dominating. The Aburame clan leader gave a delicate little cough, making Madara's grin stretch wider.
Hashirama's face was nearly pressed into Madara's neck, not even pretending to be paying attention to the man speaking, gesturing to the map spread across the table. Hot puffs of air from Hashirama's mouth tickled Madara's skin, raising the delicate hairs on his neck.
Someone at the table clears their throat. Madara hadn't been listening to the speaker, but he'd also not realized they'd stopped their speech. Madara looks at them, expectantly. He gestures to the maps spread out all over the table.
"Go on," He insists. "I thought you said it was an urgent matter." He can see the discomfort his words cause. More than half of the assembled clan heads are betas, and even their eyes are smarting. He can tell if they had not already insisted on wasting so much of he and Hashirama's time, if they had not emphasized the severity of this petty squabble, that they would clear the room, like he so desperately wanted them to. They press their lips together, glancing at one another.
"What about Lord Hashirama-," one starts.
"He's started his rut, that's all," Madara interrupts cooly, his smile having the intended effect of unsettling the man. It is much closer to a savage baring of teeth than any gesture of goodwill. He can practically feel the hair on the back of the beta's neck rising. "You know how alphas get. But please, go on."
"I mean- the scent-" The Nara clan head coughs. Madara's grin only widens. Madara's pheromones alone, smoky and spicy, pepper and ozone and ash, make weaker shinobi cough and cover their noses on good days. They could kindly be called overwhelming. He'd broken Tobirama Senju's nose after the other man had placidly informed him he reeked. On his own, both he and Hashirama's scents were strong. Together?
The Inuzuka clan head snarled at him, sniffling as she went to crack one of the windows. She took grateful lungfuls of the fresh air as Madara smirked. He emitted more pheromones, making Hashirama nose into the delicate, bruised skin at his neck, inhaling it from the source. Hashirama loved the way he smelled, he couldn't get enough of it. Addled and rut-drunk like this, he had no reservations in illustrating how much he really meant it. He sighed, grinding himself against Madara's hip, his hard cock insistently demanding Madara's attention. For now, Madara tilted his head to give him better access to his neck, letting Hashirama nestle into the scent glands, sucking and kissing. The other clan heads glared at him.
"Well?" Madara snapped. They grumbled, but resumed their negotiations. A few of them shot him nasty looks across the table. Madara fought the urge to preen. He knew they were just jealous of him, of how needy Hashirama is for him. Of how good he looks, a prime specimen, god of the shinobi world, drinking down Madara's scent like a drug, panting for him. Madara smirked.
The brush of a finger against his hole has Madara suppressing a shudder. Hashirama's finger presses against the soft rim of him, easing inside slightly. Slick has stared to ooze from him, his body responding to the rut pheromones of his mate. It eases the slide of Hashirama's fingers, first one, and then a second into him, Madara's breath hitching slightly.
Heat rose in Madara's cheeks, but he strove to keep his expression unmoved. Above the table, the meeting continues. The clan heads continue their argument, one of them pounding a fist on the table. Madara let a posessive, encouraging hand weave into Hashirama's hand, scratching at his scalp. The scent of Hashirama's arousal is pervasive, woody and pleasant and warming. There no doubt in any of the assembled's minds what his hands are doing under Madara's clothes as the burnt musk of Madara's slick mixes with it in the air.
The fingers worked into Madara, savoring the slow give of his wet flesh, even as Hashirama ground his neediness against Madara's back. Hashirama's hand is soaked where it pushes against him, grinding his fingers into his partner's hole as his slick runs down his arm in sticky trails. Madara's breath hitches as they brush against his prostate, and he clenches around them. Hashirama lets out a pleased little hum against his skin, mind rut muddied and gone, but pleased to be making Madara feel good. He kisses the scar of the bond mark on Madara's neck fondly, and Madara fights to keep a smile off his face. Hashirama lifts his head to press his face, red cheeked and feverish against Madara's hair, his lips just barely brushing the shell of his ear, hidden under his mane.
"Please?" He begged hoarsely, loud enough that at least a couple of the other council attendees definitely heard his whisper. The tiny flickers in their expressions said it all. Madara allowed himself to bask in the pure, unadulterated want, thick and muggy, saturating the meeting room with need like the humid summer air before a fire country thunderstorm. His skin prickled and goose bumped with the pleasure of being at the eye of the maelstrom of pheromones, to be the catalyst of the demonstration of primal need. Madara clenched around Hashirama's fingers' thick and warm and spreading him pleasantly as Hashirama ground the heel of his hand against him. Madara sighed, belabored, before humming his assent.
Hashirama pressed kiss after disoriented kiss into Madara's hair, dragging his fingers, dripping with Madara's essence from his omega's hole. Madara's teeth sunk into his bottom lip, his hiss of pleasure stifled as Hashirama withdraws the pleasant intrusion from him. It takes Hashirama, uncoordinated in his rut but still stong only a moment to work Madara's pants down far enough to rub the neglected, weeping red head of his cock against Madara's hole.
Still committed to giving the outward appearance of being unbothered by the molestation from his mate, Madara pillowed his head in his hand, leaning forward in faux interest over the map as Hashirama bared him to the room. Sharp as ever, he detected the sharp intakes of breath from some of the people around the table, glancing at the flashes of milky skin Hashirama had uncovered.
Madara hid a grin in his hand at their scandalized reactions. Perhaps they should not have been so irritatingly dependant on he and Hashirama, interrupting the first day of Hashirama's pre-rut absence with needy, insistent complaints about needing the Senju and Uchiha clan heads to arbite some discussion about zoning or something. Maybe it hadn't been quite as pressing as they had made it seem, he thinks, internally laughing at the blushing cheeks of his fellow seasoned shinobi.
Mated pairs always had the right to satisfy their biological needs and those of their partners, whether in public or private. Territorial by nature, few shinobi actually chose to do as flagrantly as Hashirama and he were doing now, but they'd been dragged from their den at the insistence of the nascent Konoha council of elders. Something Madara was now making them come to regret.
The Fuu clan head swallowed hard, the pair's aroused pheromones choking the room.
Hashirama's arm slid comfortingly around Madara's waist, settling Madara into his lap. The thick muscle contracting to heft Madara up slightly, the angry red head of his fat cock sliding against the slippery rim of Madara's exposed asshole. His precum mixing obscenely with the lubrication being readily emitted by Madara, glazing his pale buttocks with a lewd sheen.
The first press of Hashirama's cock inside him makes Madara bite the hand he had been lackadaisally resting on. He uses it to hide his mouth as his mate's cock entered him, hot steel sliding home deep within the clutch of Madara's body, sending ripples of heat cascading through his body, fuzzing his mind slightly. Hashirama entering him always felt like a key in a lock, like two halves of one whole being finally united. Like Madara was made for him.
Madara can feel his face warm as he fights to keep his breath steady. Hashirama's hakama and his own pants are becoming sodden with their fluids, sticky and wet where they cling to Madara's skin. Hashirama's thick thighs tremble with the effort of keeping himself still inside Madara, of fighting his desperate urge to pound into the delicious velvet grip of Madara's hole. Madara clenches down on him, savoring the fullness, the familiar heat of Hashirama in him. The alpha beneath Madara breathes out a ragged breath, muffling a groan of pleasure into his neck.
The eyes of the council members flicker over to them briefly, before looking away politely. One of them trails off in the middle of her sentence as Hashirama's fingers bite into Madara's waist, slowly and carefullly with drawing himself from him. Her eyes widen at the size of Hashirama, his cock glistening with Madara's slick. Madara clears his throat at her, pointedly, even as the heat in his cheeks intensifies, as he gives a little, shaking gasp into his palm.
A different clan head picks up where the former had left off, jabbing with a thick finger at a plot of land right in the center of the map as Hashirama plunged back into Madara. Shivering spasms of electricity leapt through Madara's body, and he sunk his teeth into his fist again, stifling his cry of ecstasy. Goosebumps prickle across his skin as Hashirama moves, slow and controlled, even in the unbearable, dizzying fog of his rut. He's trying to disrupt Madara's normal functions as little as he can, holding himself back. Madara's eyes flutter with pleasure at the torturous drag of his mate within him, every inch of delicious pressure making it harder for Madara to keep an unbothered facade.
With his alpha in rut, it was only right that Madara allowed Hashirama access to his body, even if they were in the middle of buisness- but Madara wouldn't allow himself to lose an inch of face. Some of the other clan leaders already looked down on him for being an omega, and he wouldn't allow himself to lose himself to the pleasure of his mate's splitting him open, of him moving inside him. He steeled himself against the outward expression of pleasure, unwilling to submit in front of the council members, even as Hashirama's thrusts, growing less restrained by the second had Madara's toes curling in his sandals with pleasure. His knees shaking, hole clenching mercilessly, desperately around Hashirama, welcoming the intrusion like a sheathe to sword.
No matter how good he felt, Madara committed, his ears and face red with his flush, his body practically trembling as he fought to stay upright in Hashirama's lap, as the other man's formidable cock fucked into him, as his dick leaked, rubbing tantalizingly against the wet spot it had created in his pants, Madara would not allow these people, these… weaklings that Hashirama insisted on incorporating into their dream, to see him as the pliable little object they wrote off most omegas as. He struggled to contain his moans, his free hand fisting into Hashirama's hair as he stifled his pants of pleasure into the other.
Madara shuddered, embarassment and pride warring in him as the obscene squelch of Hashirama slamming into him punctuated a diatribe from one of the clan leaders. They could all hear how wet and willing Madara was for Hashirama, how hot it got him to allow such a prime alpha specimen to fuck him in front of them, even as he pretended indifference to the filthy act. They knew Madara was showing them, flaunting his bond Hashirama so they could see it, see how entwined the pair was. He was flexing his strength in a typical Madara fashion, exerting his control over his body, over his mate, and showing those he considered to be inferior to himself his absolute mastery of the god of shinobi. He was sending them a message, loud and clear, with his public claiming of Hashirama; Don't get any ideas.
Hashirama pushed into him, over and over again, sinking his teeth into the familiar valley of Madara's strong shoulders as Madara shook. His own body was quickly heating up, matching the roaring intensity of Hashirama's fiery rut, and Madara resisted the urge to squirm, to meet Hashirama's every thrust with enthusiasm as sweet, staticky pleasure frissioned through his limbs, unravelling him like thread. Madara felt blood well between his own teeth as he bit viciously into the meat of his hand, distantly wishing for his familiar leather gloves as Hashirama's thrusts stumbled, the fat head of his cock stuttering across Madara's prostate.
An obscene cacophony rose from their coupling, loud enough that the council members had to raise their voices to be heard over it. Madara was struggling as Hashirama's moans vibrated through him, white knuckled on his fistful of Hashirama's hair. The miasma of their aroused pheromones blanket the room like a heavy fog, drowning out anything else, colored now with their sweat and the musk of their bodies. It's staggeringly strong, even to Madara, to whom it is a pleasant, familiar blanket.
A fist slammed down onto the table, startling Madara through the muzzy headed fugue of pleasure. His body was responding to the need of his mate, kindling his heat. He glared at the interruption, his teeth sunk firmly into his bottom lip to dampen the noises of pleasure Hashirama's thrusts were wringing out of him. The council member glared back, high spots of embarassed color on his cheeks. Madara's thunderous snarl did little to deter him.
"What?!" Madara snapped. He was starting to tire of their audience, despite the novelty their presence had originally been. He'd rather enjoy himself, soak in the luxury of Hashirama's full throated, screaming need, to melt into him. Sweet sparks of heat shivered through him, Hashirama's unable to stop the rock of their hips together, pressing deeper into the warm clutch of Madara's body unceasing.
He unwound his hand shakily from the tangled mass of Hashirama's hair using it to steady himself shakily on the table. The dry swallow of the council member was inaudible over the squelch of Hashirama's cock, driving over and over into the soft reddened center of Madara. Sweat beaded like dewdrops on Madara's brow, his hair a frizzing mass, face reddened. His lower lip was sluggishly bleeding, violet bruises on the tender flesh from the ferocity with which Madara had dug his teeth in.
"Which of these plots should be allotted to each clan?" The council member repeated, irritated. Madara sneered at him, detesting his attitude immediately. The gaseous beginnings of a smirk coalesced around his thin lips, his dark eyes flicking over the lurid picture the entangled couple made."Or weren't you paying attention?"
Madara nearly saw red, slamming his hips down to meet Hashirama's, sheathing the massive thing inside himself, pushing a gasp out of his bitten lips, holding the stare of the other man the whole time. Hashirama let out a whimper into Madara's neck.
"First of all," He growled. "As we discussed in the meeting on Wednesday, the Senju and Uchiha land held in common isn't going to be avaliable for purchase for individual clan use. So these lots here," He gestured, rocking up out of Hashirama's lap with a noise that made his ears heat, the thick cock dragging against his sensitive walls. Madara's knees were weak, pleasure heating his blood. "Need to be pulled from consideration. Second, as I have reminded you all time and time again," Madara's snarled at the group. "Neither I, nor Hashirama ,give a damn where you put your compounds. All we've done is set the basic structure for the settlement, land use is up to individual discretion." He barked out a harsh laugh at the expression on the other man's face.
"Did you think I wasn't listening? I was too fucked out? I wanted to know precisely it was that you idiots thought was so important you'd drag us from our den when Hashirama is clearly in rut."
His words have the unintended consequence of making everyone look at Hashirama, taking in the sight of the so-called god of shinobi. Madara's breath catches, his heart thudding. He wants to preen proudly and at the same time hide Hashirama, in all his debauched glory, from view. His engorged member is exposed, nearly purple with need, the beginnings of a fat knot swelling at its base. It's streaked with milky precum and Madara's slick, thick against his thigh. Hashirama's eyes are closed, his breath puffing from his full lips in feverish pants. His long hair, tangled from Madara's grasping hands is damp with sweat around his temples. Madara's mouth waters, his lungs burn. Hashirama is so hot, red faced and needy, squirming for Madara to clim back into his lap and take his knot. He's breathtakingly handsome like this, his high cheekbones red from exertion and the maddening burn of the rut in his veins.
Madara's own hard cock twitches just looking at him, his skin prickling with discomfort from the emptiness within him. His thighs are streaked with the evidence of their pleasure, quickly becoming unpleasant and tacky on his skin.
"So if there is no other actual reason why Hashirama and I should be here, I'm going to take him back to the den for our planned leave," Madara's voice has risen to a shout, cowing the council members. As he glares fiercely at them, they avert their eyes, one after another shaking their head minutely. Madara bears his teeth at them in a savage grin, and pulls a disoriented Hashirama to his feet.
It's no easy task to herd Hashirama, ungainly, handsy, enormous Hashirama back to their shared home. As it is they both tumble through the door, landing in an ungracefully tangled knot of limbs, both of them desperate by the time they arrived.
They didn't even bother undressing. Hashirama pressed Madara into the floor, yanking his pants down and hitching his waist up in a single movement. He shoves into Madara with gutteral moan, sinking into the soft red heat of his ass, his own robes only loosened enough to free his cock. Madara writhes with ecstasy as he is filled, Hashirama sheathing himself with a shuddery sigh, then setting a slamming, frenzied pace.
Hashirama's cock is unrelentingly hard, piercing him over and over, punching pleased, soft sounds of pleasure from Madara's lungs with every collision. Though there had been a certain thrill, a specific power about letting Hashirama have him in front of the council meeting, in the meeting room, this was infinitely better. They both had space to move freely, allowing Hashirama to hammer into him with the intensity of his true strength, their voices and the lewd sounds of their bodies unhampered and unabashed, now they're finally isolated. Madara grinds his hips back into Hashirama with all the eagerness he had kept suppressed at the meeting, his body cracklingly alight with pleasure as his mate filled him over and over again.
It doesn't take long for the swell of Hashirama's knot to nudge insistently at the soft, flushed rim of Madara's ass. He presses back into it insistently, his groan of satisfaction once it slipped in echoing off the empty halls of their home. Hashirama sinks his teeth into Madara's shoulder again, overlapping the permanent mark of their mating bite as Madara claws over the edge of heated pleasure, his orgasm pulled from him with such force that he arcs back into Hashirama, his body contorting with pleasure.
His slick paints his already dirtied clothes, adding more stains to the mess. Hashirama's needy thrusts never abate through his orgasm, gripping him tight and plowing him through the shimmery quivers of overstimulation as his knot grows and then locks them together.
Hashirama's moan is loud and desperate, as he spills within Madara, filling him with cum. Madara pants through the delicious feeling of being filled, his mind muddied and slow with the rumblings of heat and post orgasmic bliss. Hashirama finally stops moving against him, still for what feels like the first time since they'd awoken this morning. His knot is still tieing them together, plugging Madara to stop his semen from escaping. He slumps, boneless, his considerable weight pinning Madara to the floor.
Madara huffs out a fond laugh, his body still trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm and the intoxicating sensation of Hashirama's knot and seed. Carefully, he tries to flip them over, trying not to tug on the sensitive knot still lodged deep within him.
Hashirama lets out a deep, shuddering breath, and Madara is unsurprised to see his big brown eyes blinking drowsily, his thick arms coming to wrap Madara in his embrace. Madara sighed, giving up on changing their position and allowing himself to snuggle into Hashirama's arms.