Heaven wait (Hashirama x Madara)

19. Tear-salted tea (Hashirama)

Madara liked his leather thick and padded.

I had bought many sets for him throughout the years. Tonight, he was wearing his favourite, which also happened to be my favourite. It was a thick, black collar with the softest black padding, with matching cuffs for all four limbs that were stuck together in the middle with a chain, making him a bouquet for me. He was blushing, sweat running down his precious fucking face causing his black hair to stick to his pearly skin as if it had been glue. Saliva was running out of the gag ball.

"Mmm", he murmured, unable to say anything else because of said gag ball, although I wasn't certain he would've been able to say anything else even without it.

"Sorry, pet", I said, my voice hardly more than a whisper because I was so exhausted. "Too much too soon?"

He nodded. I was always hyper-alert to everything about him, but more so than ever in bed. Especially when he was gagged and bound, and so could not communicate with neither words nor taps.

I leaned forwards so my lips touched his cheek. I noticed him bending his head to hide his blush, yet his body pressed itself even closer to mine, letting me know that somewhere, he still remembered who I was.

"How about I loosen the chains three steps and free you from the gag ball a while and use the whip?"

He nodded, and I did just what we had agreed on.

The whip was a beautiful piece of art, a hand-made object I had designed for Madara together with an artist that had then implemented the design into physical form. The leather was vanilla, with a leather clutch and handle in metallic copper. All around the vanilla length was detailed sketches of different parts of the world we had visited together; the Great Wall, Santorini, Rome... Parts where we had been able to relax completely and actually enjoy ourselves and learn something from the culture.

I had gifted him the whip for our anniversary this year, and it was already breaking in parts because we had used it so much. 

But we still loved it. It showed how much we loved to play. And I knew Madara liked it rough. Even if I always began carefully. Warming up with softer whips initially was not only for his sake, but also for my own. It clenched my heart to submit my life person to pain, even if I would never admit it. I warmed him up now, whipping on both sides, from thighs to lower back, and when I was satisfied I could give it my all, I did.

Madara screamed into the pillow as I made him bleed from the whip for the first time.

I had to do everything in my power not to hug him and cry, tell him I was sorry. Even if he kept screaming in pain, he tilted his body up towards me, begging me for more.

"Pet?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm going to lock you out." It was a code we had when I let myself go completely, not allowing any part of me that could feel empathy or compassion or care through. In those moments, there were no code-words; Madara had to trust me completely, and I had to trust myself. "You remember what it means?" He nodded. "Are you ready?" Checking. Always checking.

Madara nodded.

I took a deep breath and turned the necessary parts of my brain off.

And I locked him out.

I grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked it up, fastening an even bigger gag ball into his mouth which I fastened uncomfortably tightly. I held on to his hair as I once more did him from behind, him still in his cuffs and chains.

I took the whip and used it on his back, now warmed up, creating deep rashes that made him scream so harshly, it made my ears hurt; like, actual, physical pain.