Forcing his head underwater as soon as he was in the tub was a very, very deliberate choice of mine.

We had talked about it. How my desire was to control the timing, the length, the intervals as part of the power play. And even if my hesitancy had taken me, and seemingly also Madara, completely by surprise, I tried to shut that part of my brain off, that part that was the real me, trying to let the character I needed to be in that very moment take up as much space as was needed. And since I had never, ever done this with anyone before, I understood that this alternative person would have to be somewhat different from who he usually was.

I started mildly. Only a few seconds. I hadn't given him any cues, so he hadn't been able to draw a breath, meaning if he had just breathed out before I forced him underwater, he would be uncomfortable immediately.

When he resurfaced, he was gasping for air, even coughing. I felt my true self tug at my heart, but I didn't want let him in.

"Are you okay?" my true self asked.

"Yes", he said.

And I let go. I finally let go, trusting Madara to speak for himself and his needs so that I could focus on what I was set to do.

Sometimes, I had to grit my teeth to be able to do it. Sometimes, I had to close my eyes. Sometimes, I even had to bring my mind to some sort of meditative state only to be able to do it.

But I did do it. Over and over again, I forced him under the surface of the bathtub. At first, just a few seconds, giving him time to take deep breaths by giving him little cues. Then, for longer and longer. At first, he was tense, and then, he shook, but in the end, he was begging me for more, and I gave it to him by only giving him half a breath when he resurfaced before I forced him down again.

You motherfucker, I thought, but not to anyone or anything in particular; more like a concept. All the people that had whispered behind his back. The man who had shot him. His depression. My own depression. His choice to rather die than be with me. The razor blade that has cut him open and the fucking bathtub that had swallowed him whole after.

And his idiot of a God who was the source of all the evil this man had had to endure.

You motherfucker. How dare you? How dare you hurt Madara? He's only mine to hurt and I will never hurt him.

The crescendo came when I forced Madara to stay down so long that he, for the first time, pushed his head against my hand to try to come up. I didn't let him, pushing his boundaries so they skimmed the safety gestures we had decided on. I gritted my teeth, grunted, hated myself for being hard as he convulsed beneath me as his lungs were fighting for air, but loving it nonetheless.

Give yourself over to me.

When he came up, I didn't let him breathe the air around us. Instead, I kissed him, let him breathe my air.

Suddenly, I longed for his touch, and forced him out of the water. He moaned pathetically, still panting, and I realised the pain from the coconut rope I had used must be quite memorable at this point.

I didn't care. I tore them off in a way I usually never allowed myself to do as it caused too much pain. Madara screamed, but he didn't use our safe word, so I kept going. Kept going until finally, he was free. His arms were trembling from having been tied so long as he lifted them up, put them around my neck and hugged his naked, wet body to my dry one, the tub water wetting my shirt, still the only thing I wore, rendering it useless, causing me to tear it off, too. His dick rubbed against mine, as hard as mine was, and it rendered me crazy. I grabbed his face, placed my lips a breath from his. He tried to kiss me, but I held him back.

"Don't you ever dare do anything like that", I said with passion and I knew he knew what I meant.

He nodded. Then, he shook his head, and his lower lip trembled and tears started falling down his face.

"Promise", I ordered him.

"I promise", he whispered.

And I leaned in and kissed him, let my hands travel down his waist, feeling the indentation caused by my ropes.

"I want you", he whispered. "I want you."

I grabbed his hand and pulled him with me with force, pushed him down on the bed. I didn't wait for him to recover, just grabbed his waist so he was on all four, then forced myself inside of him to his screams.

I thrusted in a way I normally never did directly, knowing it caused immense pain, but I lost control. I had given myself over to my own God completely, and that God was Madara. He screamed and from the way he pushed himself back to meet my dick, he let me know it wasn't only from pain. My entire body burned for me to come immediately, but I didn't want to. I wanted to fuck him bloody before that.

Madara, however, got restless, and to my disappointed moans, he pulled me out of him, then, he pushed me on my back, turned his back to me and sunk down, and started jumping me. I moaned by the mere sight of his strong backside, his long hair billowing, wet and lovely. He rode me faster than I had thrusted him, and I think we had both lost our Goddamn minds because we both could only scream. At some point, I even think there was a knock on our door but neither of us cared, or slowed down.

I grabbed his hair and pulled it, gritting my teeth as I came. Madara felt it, started moving in billowing waves above me, milking me out. When I was done, I pushed him off me gently, sat up, pulled him to me with his back to my torso, and caressed his inner thighs to get some of my own cum to use as lube, but because he needed any because he was already sopping wet, but because it was hot. I grabbed his dick and masturbated him. He leaned his head back, moaning, and I took the chance to turn my head dive my tongue in. The kiss was wet and sloppy and hot and lovely, but nothing compared to the feeling of his cum against my hands as I made him climax, and the convulsions his body made because of it, mirroring those he'd had in the bathtub.

When he was done, he leaned his head back on my shoulder, exhausted.

Suddenly, I felt myself start to tremble.

"I'm sorry", I said but I didn't know why. "I'm so, so sorry."

"I love you", he panted. "I love you and I will always fucking love you."

And I broke down fucking crying.

Oh, how soft the morning light when you woke up next to the person who had become your whole life.

I had laid next to him for an hour, just looking, smiling softly at him as I caressed his hair.

When his eyelashes fluttered and he woke up, my heart jolted with joy. When he immediately cuddled closer and hugged me, I felt as if I might burst, my previously hollow body now full of him.

"Good morning", he said.

"It's noon", I teased.

"Oh, shut up", he whispered, covering my cheek with kisses.

"How would you like to start your day?" I asked, sneaking my hand around his waist in a very suggestive matter.

But he grabbed my wrist gently, stopped me in my tracks. I frowned, suddenly worried yesterday's play had been too much for him. 

But what he said he wanted to do was much, much better than what I had had in mind.

"I want to take a bath", he said. "A real one."

When we sat in the tub together, him with his back to my chest, my arms around him, incredibly comfortably due to the size of the tub which we had been too distracted to take note of the day before, we didn't talk. We didn't have to. It was so clear to both of us, now that we were connected, that Madara was fine. He was okay. And I was, too.

And it wasn't about daring to take a bath. It was about believing you were a good person, and that you were worthy of love, as that he was worthy of the love of his God and of me.

He fell asleep in my arms in that tub.

End.