clothed in the sun (фемслэш)

“You could throw me off of you, if this truly bothers you. You could call for the guards—for your sister, even,” Madara says. Her voice is pitched deeper now. The sound washes over Tobirama’s skin. She shudders. “More than anything, you could ask me to stop.”
“So,” Madara continues. Tobirama feels her lips curl into a smile against her own. “Why haven’t you?”
There is no easy answer to be found.