“Can you take a little more?” Hashirama murmurs, and there's a whisper of something else beneath the velvet of his voice, heady and heavy like the power that curls across his skin, and Obito shudders, moans.

Utakata makes a noise of irritation and finally cracks one eye open, glaring up at the shape above him. “It’s December,” he protests. Zabuza grins at him, more challenge than anything, and braces a knee on the bed between Utakata’s thighs. “Want me to keep you warm?” he asks, and big hands settle on Utakata’s hips as lips caress the back of his neck.

“No,” Padmé says, breathless but full of iron. “Hands on the floor.”