The circumcision custom was based around virility, strength, rank, and the idea of control, Senju. Do not pass judgment onto a deeply historical tradition that wasn't meant to be understood by some such as yourself.
Not that he was thinking anything of the sort (though the feeling of the foreskin was foreign and different); instead he was transfixed on the subtle red of the other's eyes watching him, staring at him, learning every piece of his body. There was a fragile moment where Izuna felt self-conscious, wondering just how much the other was memorizing. If he ever brought it up, ever was foolish enough to say anything about it, Izuna would tell him that it wasn't real, that this body and its marks and forms and sex size wasn't a legitimate representation at all.
Even if it was. He hadn't thought to change what he looked like, but Tobirama didn't know that. He could simply let the albino go to his grave thinking that he showed himself to Izuna, but that he had never returned the favor.
Revenge. Petty and small, but there all the same.
Those hands wrapped his wrists, and he glared at the other man, something caught between a pout and an angry scowl as he felt the grip squeeze. "You are, but it's at the pace of a turtle. Maybe a snail." He smirked as he pushed his feet to the ground and managed to sit up, hair falling down around his shoulders, his back, his chest. "Is that a summon animal for you? Perhaps a sloth?"
He tugged on his arms, once, before he leaned forward, gaze heavy in the shadows of the coming night. Izuna didn't beg. Uchiha didn't beg, wouldn't, didn't have it in their bones, their nature, their blood. But he would demand, order, because it was easier than admitting that he was doing the opposite.
"If you leave me waiting any more, I will finish myself," he threatened, the tone teasing a note of need, of lust, of intoxication on wanton desires. "I won't let you touch me at all and leave you to watch."
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2015-08-28 12:42 am (UTC)Not that he was thinking anything of the sort (though the feeling of the foreskin was foreign and different); instead he was transfixed on the subtle red of the other's eyes watching him, staring at him, learning every piece of his body. There was a fragile moment where Izuna felt self-conscious, wondering just how much the other was memorizing. If he ever brought it up, ever was foolish enough to say anything about it, Izuna would tell him that it wasn't real, that this body and its marks and forms and sex size wasn't a legitimate representation at all.
Even if it was. He hadn't thought to change what he looked like, but Tobirama didn't know that. He could simply let the albino go to his grave thinking that he showed himself to Izuna, but that he had never returned the favor.
Revenge. Petty and small, but there all the same.
Those hands wrapped his wrists, and he glared at the other man, something caught between a pout and an angry scowl as he felt the grip squeeze. "You are, but it's at the pace of a turtle. Maybe a snail." He smirked as he pushed his feet to the ground and managed to sit up, hair falling down around his shoulders, his back, his chest. "Is that a summon animal for you? Perhaps a sloth?"
He tugged on his arms, once, before he leaned forward, gaze heavy in the shadows of the coming night. Izuna didn't beg. Uchiha didn't beg, wouldn't, didn't have it in their bones, their nature, their blood. But he would demand, order, because it was easier than admitting that he was doing the opposite.
"If you leave me waiting any more, I will finish myself," he threatened, the tone teasing a note of need, of lust, of intoxication on wanton desires. "I won't let you touch me at all and leave you to watch."