[TMNTcest] Distraction (part one)
Title Broken Tales: Distraction
Characters/Pairings Don/Leo, Mikey, Splinter, Raph
Okami 'verse Broken Weekend
Summary Donatello couldn't take his eyes off the strip of blue cloth on forest green skin.
Warnings Turtlecest, (semi-realistic) Turtle Anatomy! (which means cock-in-tail for those wondering), P-L-O-T, what is this word of which you speak?
Author's Note My half of a trade with karasuookami, who requested Don/Leo/Not in the bedroom. She also gave me puppy eyes for Turtle Anatomy (okay, not really, but it sounds better that way, yes?). It was supposed to be a short little piece, turned into a bit of a monster. XD; At least it didn't require more than one chapter? (Sad this is an accomplishment =_=;;) At least monsters are fun to play with.
Also, this is a few years before Broken Weekend, and no one knows anyone is romantically involved with anyone else, except Raph, who probably knows about Don and Leo. Speaking of Broken Weekend, you might notice the main and sub titles? Well, my muses have been feeding me more stories for that verse. They're likely to mostly center around Mikey and Angel's relationship, though. (3 that pairing) So far, this is the only planned Leo/Don-centric piece. (But with my muses that could very well change). This also means that I haven't forgotten Broken Weekend. :P
I'm also using this as an opportunity to play with some ideas I had for mutated turtle physiology. Hopefully she won't mind (oh look, squirrel! *points and then runs*) -end the excessively long author's note *jabberjabberjabberjabber*-
The bandanna fell just over the lip of his shell, flipped and trailed down to brush his collar bone. Just one tail; the other lay hidden by his thick neck, no doubt laying in an enticing line down the arc of his shell.
Donatello couldn't take his eyes off the strip of blue cloth on forest green skin. That during a group meditation session wasn't the most appropriate time, apparently didn't matter to his concentration, though. His hands clenched into fists, and he half-lidded his eyes against his Sensei's all-seeing gaze. He drew in a deep breath, and sewer air filled his lungs, rank and damp no matter how they tried to mask it. They'd long gotten used to it, but still it lingered there for a taste when they opened their mouths to breathe or speak. Now it served as a much needed distraction from the desire building in his veins.
The object of his focus remained oblivious to the weight of Donatello's gaze. Meditation had taken the lines of stress and worry that their life had placed too soon on Leonardo's face. Relaxed in a way he never was outside of sleep, how could Donatello tear his eyes away? Leonardo's head tilted back, his mouth relaxed, and brow smooth. His fingers curled to lightly touch his thumbs, back of his hands resting on his folded legs. Leonardo was so obviously relaxed, and it made something inside Donatello twist and turn to see it. To see it in the light of burning candles, rather than the dim shadows of their bedrooms, or the sewers.
Raphael shifted next to Donatello, drawing him from his contemplation. Donatello knew that Raph hated meditating. He preferred to be constantly moving, more so than even Michaelangelo. Of course, even that small motion only served to draw their sensei's attention, and the sound of a stick rapping the floor.
"Raphael! Do not lose your focus!"
Donatello took a measured breath and closed his eyes, but he held the image of his brother in the front of his mind. He used it as a focal point for his meditation, until he sank deeper into the trance, and still the remembered sensations of their rendezvous only a few days ago lingered to tease Donatello until the sharp clap of their Sensei's hands ended the session.
Master Splinter waited until they all had their eyes on him. "That is all for now my sons. Go and replenish your bodies, we shall continue after dinner."
Donatello stayed where he was; eyes back to half-mast, breathing deep and even. He wanted to wait until everyone else had left the dojo. He didn't think he could stand without being painfully embarrassed, right then. His tail ached, swelling between his legs. Not so much that he burned with exposure, but enough to break his concentration, and make even the simple act of standing an interesting feat to keep it hidden.
Donatello knew his brothers, knew their particular colors, and the scars that marred their skin. He had no trouble recognizing the turtle that paused to stand by him with his legs splayed in what could only be a cocky stance.
"Did someone fall asleep during meditation again? I'm surprised Leo's not over here harping on you snoozing, he's always on my tail about it, but I don't see him over here raising shell."
Donatello opened one eye to glower up at the 'youngest' of his brothers. "I'm not sleeping."
"Oh noooo? Then what are you doin'? Hm? Hm? Hmmmmm?"
Donatello resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and instead dropped the lids closed. Besides, Leonardo wasn't in the dojo anymore. "I'm just making my plans for the day." And holding off on standing at least until he could tuck his tail securely between his legs. He took another deep, calming breath of air, absorbing the hint of sewage on the back of his tongue to dampen his arousal. A thought occurred to him, then, and he opened both eyes to look at his brother speculatively. "What do you want?"
The orange bandanna perfectly framed the turtle's wide-eyed attempt at innocence. "Moi? How could you ever think something so horrible of your baby bro? Really? To think that I would stoop so low as to only approach you when I need something."
Donatello did roll his eyes this time. He rocked back on his shell, the ache in his tail dissipated to a low, but manageable, throb. "Of course you wouldn't. How silly of me."
Michelangelo's grin could only be described as brilliant. And here came the request. "Well, now that you mention it. There was something I was hoping you could help me with."
Amused, Donatello lifted a brow as he waited patiently for his brother to continue. Realizing that Mikey waited for a prompting, Donatello heaved a long suffering sigh, "What can I help you with Mikey?"
"Weeeeell, since you're offering..."
Donatello chuckled good-naturedly at this typical banter with his brother. He would never have refused him, anyway. He would never refuse to help any of his brothers when they asked him for it, and often even when they hadn't.
Green skin absorbed the candle light reflected by shining blades that swept and arced in beautiful, intricate designs. Muscles flexed, lending strength to each blow. Joints bent, giving precision and angle to every strike. Eyes narrowed, focused on each move. The blue bandanna tails twisted and snapped about, creating their own forms in counterpoint to the kata.
Leonardo's foot slid across the tatami mat, a shift of position, followed by the swift execution of a new set of attacks against his imagined opponent. The swords sang through the air, and Donatello would swear that he could hear the very molecules parting before the sharpened blades.
Pause. Shift. Attack. The rhythm of a street fight. Where the pauses were never guaranteed, and shifts had to be changed mid-motion. Where strikes needed to be redirected, or converted into blocks or dodges. Leonardo managed to turn something that should be choppy into a single, flowing, graceful movement. Each pause was merely a breath in the constant tide and ebb that defined his motions.
Leonardo was-to put it incredibly simple-beautiful.
Donatello clenched his fingers in an effort to stifle the urge to reach out and run a hand down the muscled arm, or bury his snout into the musky scent of a worked up reptile (their bodies pressed together, surrounded by the smell of sex and sweat). Leonardo had been a distraction all day long, even though the turtle had been nowhere near Donatello's work station. Perhaps that was being a tad unfair to his brother. Donatello, just couldn't keep his mind off Leo, and even now he longed to bring his brother to a halt with a firm hand in his bandanna tails (cascading over his shell like a waterfall), and run his tongue over the curve of the green shoulder.
The movement flowed to a halt, then, as Leonardo realized he was no longer alone. Head tilted, Leonardo turned his brown eyes on his quiet spectator.
Donatello straightened and approached Leo. He kept his pace smooth, and measured. His tail ached again, but he tucked it firmly between his legs, even though he could feel it becoming engorged, making it harder and harder to hold it up.
The brown eyes watching his approach narrowed, flicking over Donatello's face. A glance at the door to the dojo, and then Leonardo raised an eyebrow.
"Splinter's watching his shows. Mikey's reading his comic books. Raph's in his room, doing whatever he does in there." Donatello reached his brother, then, and he flipped an errant bandanna tail back. Of its own volition, Donatello's hand ran up the flap of cloth to fiddle with Leo's knot.
The elder turtle shook his head and moved his brother's hand away from his mask. "Not here. Not now. You know better." His voice stayed low, a whisper of sound.
Donatello sighed, but obediently dropped his hand to his side. "It's too much of a risk," he agreed, though it didn't make him happy in the least.
Leonardo's lips twitched into something that might have been a smile. The swords slid into their scabbards with practiced ease. "Can I help you with something, Don?" he asked in an even, normal tone.
A deep breath, and Donatello rubbed his hands on his thighs. Right, he needed to act normal, but his voice came out in a squeak, and he had to clear his throat a few times before any words would come out. "Ahm, I, ah..." Quick thinking as Donatello scrambled for a reason. "Need to make a supply run. Tonight if possible." He couldn't quite repress the quiver that ran through him.
Leonardo was silent for what seemed like a long time, but was actually only thirty seconds according to the clock high on the wall. His expression blank, but carefully so, as though he were afraid that all his feelings would pour out for everyone to see. His eyes slid closed and when they opened they had darkened with a desire that echoed the burn in Donatello's veins. "Alright... I'll let Master Splinter know." He paused and his brow ridges furrowed. "Do you know if the others had plans...?"
Donatello grinned. "Movie and game, and both would be seriously ticked off if you dragged them away. It's the... uh final game for the season? And the movie is one I haven't been able to find a decent copy of online."
"Well, they wouldn't want to miss that. Things have been quiet, so we should be fine without them." His eyes narrowed within his mask, and swept a searching look over the genius brother.. "Just don't take us to any of the bad neighborhoods."
"Aww, but Leo! Those usually have the really good salvage too!"
An exasperated snort met that statement. "Suure." Leonardo moved then, stepping over to grab his towel off the weapons rack. He wiped the cloth over the light sheen of moisture that beaded his skin. It wasn't sweat, they didn't sweat, but more like condensation on the outside of a glass of water. Moisture that would need to be replaced. They called it sweat for lack of a better word. He didn't so much as look at Don while he did this. Finished with that, Leo tossed the towel over the back of his neck and headed for the door. He passed Donatello, and paused just in front of him. "You had it all planned out, didn't you?"
Donatello couldn't keep the stupid grin off his face. He stepped closer to his lover, his breath unsteady in his chest. Their snouts brushed, and their breath mingled. No resistance as Donatello drew a hand down Leo's plastron in a manner that couldn't in any way be interpreted as brotherly.
Leonardo let out a harsh breath, and his throat moved with a convulsive swallow.
A check to make sure no one observed, and then Leonardo leaned even closer to nip at Donatello's cheek. "I look forward to it."
Donatello couldn't breathe for a moment, and the touch lingered even after Leonardo had walked away. He clenched his thighs together, and took a few deep breaths until he could tuck his tail between his legs and walk normally.
Donatello stepped out of the dojo and walked past Leo making dinner in the kitchen. They ignored each other, acting as though nothing had happened. Donatello disappeared into his lab until the call came for dinner, and then he could only pick at his meal, his stomach twisted too tightly to accept much in the way of food. He could always pack something to snack on if he got desperate. Wouldn't be the first meal he missed.
After dinner came their final session for the day, and Donatello forced himself to dismiss the anticipation so that he could concentrate on the new moves their Sensei demonstrated.
Sensei had settled down for his final round of meditation, leaving the brothers to their own devices. Raphael immediately ran out the door, yelling something about hoping Casey hadn't started the party without him. Leonardo studiously cleaned his swords, as Donatello packed the 'necessary' supplies for an equipment run.
Don caught Mikey in the kitchen with a fair amount of snacks, and an enormous bowl of popcorn sitting on the table. Donatello stared at it, for a moment; "Mikey, you realize that I'm not gonna be here?"
Surprised, Michaelangelo blinked at his mound of snacks. "Oh." The eyes behind the orange mask narrowed speculatively, and he glanced at the kitchen door as though expecting someone to waltz in any moment; no doubt someone wearing a blue bandanna. "Dude, I've been looking forward to this thing for days…"
Donatello halted Mikey's protests with a raised hand. "I know. You have fun watching the movie." Contemplative glance at the snacks. "Though, Sensei hates it when we waste food like that."
Michelangelo's eyes mouth formed an 'oh' and he hastily put away a fairly large portion of the food. Leaving him with a couple bags of chips, one of candy, and his big bowl of buttered and salted popcorn.
Donatello held off on commenting on just how healthy that was not, instead grabbing a few bottles of water and tossing them in his bag. Mikey took his heart attack food out into the living room and settled down for his movie.
Leonardo came into the kitchen and hastily threw together two sandwiches, before he tossed them at Donatello. "You didn't eat enough at dinner," he said by way of explanation. "Are you ready?"
Don stuffed the sandwiches into his bag and gave the rest of the contents a quick once over. Satisfied, he zipped it up and slung the strap over his shoulder. "I'm ready."
Leo grinned, a flash of teeth that disappeared as quickly as it happened. "Let's go."
They left the lair.
Donatello followed Leo, splashing through the sewer tunnels. He kept one hand on the strap of his utility bag and the other stiff at his side, ready for anything to jump out at them. They hadn't encountered much in the way of monsters down here since Bishop's mutants (a hazy period for Don after he'd been bitten by one). So, they moved at an unhurried pace, and their conversation followed suit. It drifted from one topic to another, anything from technique, to comments on their home life. A brief touch on Splinter's health. They kept their voices down, wary of the grates that might carry the sounds to human ears.
They came to a walkway above the sludge they trudged through, and Leonardo easily jumped up and boosted himself to the drier concrete with a hand. He stepped back to allow Don the space to do the same. Don clambered up, though he felt he didn't have the grace his brother so easily managed. He wiped his hands on his thighs to rid them of the feel of the wet concrete.
Leonardo was scraping the bottom of his feet off on the edge of the walk way, his lip curled up in disgust.
Donatello did the same, the concrete rough against his calloused feet. He moved awkwardly, his shoulder and neck itching with the weight of his brother's gaze. His hands crawled with the need to touch Leo.
Leonardo's straightened when Donatello turned around, however, and he gazed down the sewer tunnel, as though he hadn't been watching his brother. "Where were we heading, again?"
Donatello didn't answer, as he gave into desire at last. He stroked one hand up Leo's arm, and the other down his brother's snout.
Leonardo glanced over and lifted a brow ridge, but he leaned into the touch and hummed softly. "What do you think you're up to?"
Don grinned and stepped closer, invading Leo's personal space. He traced the seam of the blue mask and skin that led into the curve of his jaw. Jump down into the dip of a lipless mouth the skin soft, pliant under his fingers. Drown in brown eyes filled with love, concern, trust… desire.
Don't break the gaze, but bring the other hand up to touch Leo's browridge. Follow the hollow of the eye socket and run down the other side of his snout. Caress the small nares with a swipe of his thumb.
Leonardo broke the eye contact first, with a soft moan and shudder . His lids slid over his brown eyes, and he sucked in air through his teeth.
Donatello cupped both of Leo's cheeks in his hands and leaned forward to nuzzle his brother's snout. Kiss, and then caress the indentation between snout and cheek.
Fingers touched Donatello's own cheek, a flutter against his skin. "Don…"
"Hm?" Don nipped at Leo's snout, his hands glued to his brother's face. He bumped his plastron against Leo's, his throat closing on a moan. "Are we too close?"
Leonardo's throat convulsed in a swallow, and he pulled away from Donatello's touch and kiss. "Yes. Yeeessssss. Too close." He sounded drunk, or like he was dragging himself from a dream.
Donatello dragged his hands away reluctantly, but couldn't resist one last kiss. He backed away before Leo's hands came down on his shoulders, though. He understood.
They were still too close to the lair, and couldn't risk anyone finding them. Especially with Raphael having headed out of the lair. Though Leonardo suspected their brother already knew about them. But there was no telling if Mikey's questionable attention span would draw him away from his movie. Or if Splinter would suddenly have him go into the sewers to run an errand.
They collected themselves, and Leonardo took the lead again. They moved at a quicker pace now, motivated with the need to get farther away from the lair. They could wait till they got topside, but Donatello wasn't sure he wanted to wait that long. Not to mention the fact that Leo wouldn't want to leave them so exposed up there. Finding a place down here would be best, then. It wasn't like they didn't have plenty of hidey holes, but which one to use?
They were currently under 7th, and would be intersecting with High St. up ahead. They had that place under the junction at High St. and Main. But it would be too close to the subway at this time of day, they couldn't risk any humans hearing them. Maybe they should go to the warehouse district…
"Where exactly were you planning to have us go, Don?"
Donatello shifted gears in his head. "Um, well… There's that place on 27th. They might have what I need there."
Leonardo lifted a brow ridge at Don. "You actually needed something?"
Donatello grinned, unabashedly at the tease. "Can always use something around the lair."
"Hm."
They fell into an easy silence, then, and continued through the sewers until they hit one of the old subway tunnels, and started following it toward 27th.
Leo suddenly grabbed Don's wrist and drew them both to a halt. "Hey, I wanted to check something out."
Donatello let his brother drag him down a side tunnel curious at the anticipation in his lover's voice. But when he seemed to be aiming directly for a dark shaft, Don balked. He hung back, pulling against Leo's grip.
Leo paused and looked back, his enthusiasm momentarily blanketed by confusion
"Oh. I saw this on a run with Raph. Wanted to check it out. Interested?" He had to pause as he spoke, his voice strained into a high pitch as though his throat were closing on his words and turning them into squeaks.
It made Donatello smile, though his own breath caught in his throat, and his heart picked up its pace. "Yeah…" He swallowed past his own throat's attempt to close. "Just, let me grab a flashlight first."
Leo smiled, his eyes sparkling with humor-anticipation-and he pulled Don closer with the hand still wrapped around his wrist. His voice dropped, husking out of his throat. "What's wrong? Afraid of the dark?"
Don glared, and then shoved Leo down the shaft. He didn't have to watch to know that Leo would catch the edge. He dug through his bag until he found the flashlight and smacked it to turn it on.
Leo watched him from the edge of the hole, braced on his elbows, and feet dangling in the shaft. He dropped out of sight when Don turned toward the hole.
He shifted the strap on his shoulder and then easily followed Leonardo down into the darkness.
Part Two