Archive of Our Own ^beta

There aren’t many things that Michelangelo dislikes, and the turtle can count on one hand the things he hates. Honourable mention to villains, crimes, and trauma-inducing battles because they don’t count since they have their own separate category and thus, do not take up any fingers. So in no particular order, he dislikes carrots, when Klunk hides among the pipes in their ceiling to avoid his monthly bath, and when he’s washing dishes and someone puts a plate with food still on it in the water. 

The first is like a personal betrayal, because in his humble (i.e., correct) opinion, everything orange is great. Food wise, oranges are great! So are pumpkins, mikans, apricots, butternut squash, and yams. So therefore, according to this pattern, carrots should also be pretty tasty because they’re orange, right? Clearly that would be the right assumption, but nope! Wrong! They taste nasty as fuck and he purposely goes out of his way to not cook them or include them in his dishes. 

Unfortunately, the world sometimes doesn’t work in his favour, which is very homophobic of it, mind you, his brothers love carrots, and Michelangelo loves his mates more than he hates carrots. Thus, despite his best efforts and signs around his kitchen with pictures of carrots with giant red ‘X’s over them, there are plenty of carrots washed and prepped in the crisper drawer in the fridge that are ready to be chopped up for stir-frys, shredded for salads, or eaten raw. 

Stir-frys he can forgive, because if you put enough meat or oyster sauce then you can’t taste the carrots. With carrots in salads he’ll wrinkle his beak at and still, maybe, perhaps, sometimes, eat because he’s a growing, healthy young man. 

But raw-doggin’ carrots!? Just bitin’ into them just as they are? No sauce or seasonin’? Not even a whiff of a blue-cheese dip in sight? No nothin’!? That’s psychotic behavior and anyone who engages in such blasphemy should be sentenced to life in prison, and then some! He’s a turtle, not a damn bunny.

He doesn’t care what Raph says, he’s a freak for eating carrots like that. His mates want him to eat more carrots and always have something to say.

They say stuff like, somethin’ somethin’ ‘they’re part of a healthy diet’ blah blah ‘they’re good for your eyesight’ blah blah ‘Mikey you’re being ridiculous’ blah blah, whatever! He’ll be Doug Dimmadomed damned before he eats them more than he has to!

Oh. Hm. Maybe he is a little more passionate about disliking carrots than he thought. Maybe he should move carrots over to his hate category? That’s somethin’ he’ll have to consider at another point. Regardless, fuck carrots!

Klunk gettin’ into the rafters is super annoying, but the whole ordeal takes anywhere from twenty to thirty minutes to handle, so it really wasn’t that deep, honestly. His baby needs a bath once a month, and sometimes twice, unfortunately, because they live in the sewers and Klunk was a very good dust bunny hunter. He didn’t mind all that much, but his dad did not appreciate it when the orange cat would start leaving random soot paw-prints all over the dojo or furniture. So if he wanted to avoid getting an earful or doing extra katas, then his baby needed to regularly bathe. 

Unfortunately, Klunk did not see it this way and would instantly go into hiding when he’d catch sight of the bath supplies: claw clippers, fur shampoo and conditioner, flea & tick shampoo, fur brush, fuzzy towels, and whatever else Mikey currently had in stock. His baby hated bath time and needed to be chased down, which meant he had to crawl through the dust amongst the pipes in the ceiling to get him out. But once the cat was in the water, bath day would happen without a problem. Donatello had warned him years ago when Klunk was a kitten to get the feline used to water and baths soon, so his baby wouldn’t make much of a fuss as an adult. Lo’ and behold, Klunk didn’t! In fact, sometimes he and his son would have spa days. 

Spa days include Mikey playing relaxing music in the bathroom, gently placing a little fur-care face mask made out of flaxseed and clay on Klunk’s face, and putting tiny cucumber circles over Klunk’s eyes while he massaged his baby’s paws and clipped his claws. 

He was very much aware that his baby was spoiled, but Klunk deserved it! Mikey could roll around in sewage, wrestle with someone in the mud, and eat off the floor without so much as a blink of an eye when he loses some scutes, much to his brothers’ annoyance and aggravation. But never would he allow Klunkers to have major hair loss or grooming problems! Just because he was a nasty guy himself didn’t mean he’d be a neglectful father, he has standards. 

When Mikey would work on Klunk’s paws, he’d file the claws to a comfortable rounded shape then set about adding coconut oil to the cat’s paw pads for moisturization to help with any dryness, then finish it up by applying cat-friendly nail polish that Don created for him. 

His mate had indulged his wants in spoiling his cat, and helped create a ton of spa-like products that would be safe to use. Klunk clearly enjoyed being spoiled, because after the initial hissing of being submerged in water, which was routine by now, the orange cat would be an engine of purrs and chirps as he was taken care of. Then, when everything was said and done, Klunk and him would finish spa day with an action movie and an omega-fatty rich meal; tuna sandwiches for him and tuna sashimi for his baby. 

Last spa day he painted his baby's claws a beautiful lilac, and had painted his own to match. It’s been a few weeks now though, and the paint had chipped and split on his own nails, which was tragic, but was also a great way to keep track of how long it’s been since he last bathed Klunk. Which meant, bath day was coming up again soon. So, a win’s a win. 

Putting dishes in the sink while he was doing dishes was the equivalent of someone spitting in his face then telling him to lick it off, and no he’s not being dramatic. Not kinkshaming any freaky-deaky people who were into that, but not him! Hence, the disrespect! Because why the fuck would you add dishes while he was washing them!? They’re supposed to be collected and scraped of all food beforehand! So in his eyes, if you waited until he was washing dishes to add more dishes, you were just a dickhead. Especially if the plates or bowls weren’t scrapped clean and had food still on them.

High up on his hate category is when there’s food floating around in the sink full of soapy water, but he couldn’t tell until his hands were in the water and some floating piece of food touched his hand. Just the phantom sensation of a piece of soaked meat touching his fingers or, God fuckin’ forbid, a noodle, made him want to vom. 

So yeah, adding dishes while he was doing the dishes was extremely lame and his family knew better than to do that when he was on dish duty. Which, thankfully, as the family’s chef, wasn’t often. One who cooks is one who does not clean after all. 

There’s a bunch of other things he doesn’t like honestly; he doesn’t like when his mask is wet because then the tails are touching his neck and he hates that sensation. He dislikes it when Raph drinks his orange pop without telling him and he ends up pop-less for dinner. He dislikes the three minutes it takes for his cup noodles to cook and when there’s no chicken flavoured top ramen packets left. He dislikes when Leo makes him meditate at four in the morning because the youngest can’t sleep, and instead of letting him play his video games to help him relax, the eldest makes him meditate to ‘calm his mind’ or whatever. 

He also hates when Don lectures him about the importance of eating carrots because they’ll ‘boost your immune system’, ‘improve your eyesight’, and ‘they’re good for your liver health’. None of that matters because he ain’t eatin’ them shits if he can help it. 

But, stronger than any dislike of carrots, lectures about eating carrots, or food in dish water, was Mikey’s hatred for being interrupted during his sexy time with his mates. 

Sure sure, okay, the city being invaded by engineered creations, the space-time continuum on the verge of collapsing, and life as they know it falling apart, are all valid reasons to interrupt him. Mikey would very much like to keep living and thus doesn’t mind saving the day. 

Other than world saving, a small interruption at best could quickly be overlooked or easily fixed so the turtles in question can eagerly get back to their activities. At worst, the mood would be unsalvageable, the atmosphere in ruins, and Mikey would be blue balled until God knows when until his chosen turtle of the evening decided to bless him with some tussy again. 

But you know what wasn't a good reason to interrupt his journey of taking his baby in blue on a trip to pound town? 

Being a cheapskate because instead of paying an extra five dollars for delivery, you make your little brother who was in the middle of making out with a mate go pick up your damn pizza. 

Picture this if you will: Leonardo spread out underneath him, all soft and relaxed in his bed while Michelangelo was rubbing his sides, murmuring little praises and affections, and kissing his mate’s neck. The orange turtle had been busy pressing insistent little nips against the skin there and when Leo tilted his neck further to expose more skin for his mouth to taste, Mikey happily took the offer. He had marks on his own neck from the eldest turtle, and the youngest was more than thrilled to create a matching set. Leo’s soft churrs and pleased sighs was all the encouragement he needed. 

Michelangelo had been making his way down his lover’s body, from his neck and trailing his lips to the other’s chest, not resisting the urge to bite the sizable pecs and grinning when his mate let out a soft whine and arched his back, pushing his chest further into Mikey’s face for more. They had all the time in the world to fully enjoy each other’s body, so the youngest was happy to indulge and take his time. 

Everything was good and well, soon to be even better, when all of a sudden, Michelangelo heard this agitating grating voice from outside his room call out, “Yo Mike!”

Then the door to his room had slammed open, startling the two turtles in bed, and in strolled the current bane of his existence wearing his I don’t give a fuck what you were doing grin: Raphael “stupid bitch” Spliterson. 

And yes he’s said it to his face before! He ain’t no bitch, and the phantom bruises on his body proves it. 

Usually he was happy to see his number one target for pranks! But he was busy here, and Michelangelo leaned up to sit back on his knees and hissed at him for the interruption, which his older brother promptly ignored. 

Leonardo patted his arm in condolence, and looked to their intruder, “He’s a little pre-occupied right now. Come back in an hour?” It was less of an order and more of a question, and Michelangelo answered with a swift grind of his hips against his brother’s, making sure his lover felt the growing bulge in his slit, earning a sharp exhale from his leader, the acknowledgement clear, “Two hours then.”

“Nope,” Raphael pops the ‘p’ extra loud and strolls over to the two on the bed, and shoved his phone in his youngest brother’s face with a smirk, “I need you to go pick up my pizza. Delivery’s too expensive ‘cause I guess they’re slammed with orders or whatever, but pick up comes with a free box of mozzarella sticks. So,” Here he throws his arm around his little brother’s shoulders, “be a pal and go get it, and I’ll save some for you and Fearless over there. Capiche?”

No capiche! Capiche-janai! Michelangelo glared at his brother, beak wrinkling in distaste at his audacity, “I’m literally trying to have sex with Princess right now,” He gestures to Leo lying underneath him, who blushes prettily at the nickname, and Michelangelo focuses on not cooing and instead continues to glare at his red mate, “And you want me to go get your damn pizza?!”

“And mozzarella sticks!” Donatello chimed in as he strolled into the room with a grin, and Michelangelo deeply regretted not locking his door. Did privacy mean nothing around here!?

Nevermind that he barged in on them all the time, he had little brother privileges! So this was clearly different because maybe if his older brothers were better role models, things wouldn’t be this way. 

“Nah bros, just pay for delivery. Sorry ‘bout the cheese sticks Don, but I’m busy!” He huffed, shrugging Raph’s arm off from around his shoulders and turning away from his brother to end the conversation. He had better things to be doing than being out in the city right now. When arms suddenly seized him around the waist and hoisted off his love, he yelped when he was unceremoniously dumped on the floor. 

“Hey!” He snapped and hissed when Donatello laughed and maneuvered around him to crawl into his bed and steal his spot, the purple turtle promptly sitting on Leo’s waist and tossing a grin his way, “Nahhhh, don’t even play with me Don! I was here first!”

Leonardo laughed, clearly unbothered at the change of turtles. He remained laying on the bed and when Donatello sat on his waist, the eldest moved his hands to grip the other’s hips with a grin, which only added salt to Mikey’s wounded ego. Was no one taking him seriously!?

“We won’t do anything,” Don chirped, looking from Mikey to Leo, then back to his little brother with a smile, “We’ll just keep Leo company until you come back with the mozzarella sticks!”

“And pizza.” Raphael drawled out, making himself at home and plopping down on Michelangelo’s bed by his blue brother’s head, leering at the blue turtle in a way that screamed all the ideas he had of keeping their blue mate company. 

“And pizza,” Donatello amended, amused, and raising an eyeridge when Michelangelo remained sitting on the ground. 

The youngest turtle pushed himself to his feet and dusted himself off, grumbling, boner completely killed and eyed the two turtles on the bed, seriously contemplating if he would be able to wrestle Don away and if the possibility of getting thrown into a wall or something was worth it. Just because the purple terrapin preferred building and working on his projects didn’t mean he couldn’t hold his own and then some in battle. 

Michelangelo’s seen many enemies target Don thinking that the turtle would be an easy punching bag because he was staying further back from the group in battle to offer long distance support. Those same enemies who underestimated his mate found themselves eating concrete sooner rather than later, and Mikey was unashamed to admit he looked forward to those moments whenever they had a scrimmage. 

Those battles meant he’d get ample opportunities to watch Donatello’s back muscles flex and ripple as the darker scaled turtle whipped his bō around to knock enemies out with well timed jabs and hits. The way his white lids would be narrowed with concentration, mind no doubt working through calculations while sweat trailed down his temple from fighting. It was also so hot watching his mates fight, and a sweaty Donatello made Mikey want to lick it from his forehead and trail his tongue all the way down to his p–

A pillow smacked him in the face and broke the orange ninja from his thoughts, and he groaned, rubbing his cheek, “Ow!”

“Go get my damn pizza!”

“And mozzarella sticks!”

“Them too.”

“Why the hell do I gotta do it!? Yous dudes could’ve been gone and picked it up by now instead of harassing me!”

“You’re faster.” No no, flattery will not get anywhere with him this time! “And you’re the youngest. So go get your big bros’ food already!”

“Leooooooo!” The youngest turned to his eldest brother and mate, whining and completely upset at the turn of events, “Tell them to get their own food! We were busy, right baby? Sweetie? Blueberry of my eye and princess supreme of my heart, mind, and soul whomst I love and would very much like to get back to kissing?”

Said blueberry of Michelangelo’s eye and princess supreme of his heart, mind, and soul didn’t look swayed by his  words, and in fact, looked terribly amused, “Mhm…that depends, what kind of Pizza did you order Raphael?”

“Supreme, with extra onions and light sauce.” Raph grinned wide enough to show a hint of his canines, sharp like the final nail in the coffin, “With green olives, not black.”

The green ones were Lenardo’s favorite. 

If the force of Michelangelo’s glare could set things on fire, his red brother would be a pile of ash right now. 

He heaved a sigh even before Leo turned to look at him with hopeful eyes, knowing he was outnumbered and if he truly wanted to get his dick wet, he’d have to go get the damn food. 

“Fine! Alright! I’ll go get your damn pizza–” 

“And mozzarella sticks!”

“– and your stupid ass mozzarella sticks. But I swear on Klunk, if I come back and one of you dickweeds had sex with Princess before me, I’ll shit on your pizza and eat all your mozzarella sticks then vom them back up just as a final fuck you.” 

“That was…..disturbingly creative and absolutely disgusting. We should really rinse your mouth out with soap.”

His brothers laughed, and Mikey stomped out the door and raised his hand to flip his brothers off without turning around, and the sound of their joint laughter followed him out his room. 

End scene. 

It had taken around twenty minutes of jumping from rooftop to rooftop to get to Pizzapocalypse, a local pizza shop on East 14th street on the Lower East Side that he and Raph had stumbled across, high outta their minds like, two Halloweens ago. He could have gotten here faster, but he’s irritated and decides to take longer so he has time to cool off before he walks into the pizza shop. 

The cashier at the time, a Black teenager who was more height than muscle, his face decorated with several gold piercings in his nose, eyebrow, and lips. He had been rockin’ a frohawk at the time, type four-a curls piled high and spilling over the edge of buzzed down sides that made Mikey immediately take a liking to the bored lookin’ guy. Anyone with cool hair like that couldn’t be a cowabummer. 

The guy hadn’t blinked twice at the two dudes “dressed” as turtles stumbling in at two am, giggling and buying all their remaining garlic knots and pepperoni slices. The human turned a blind-eye to the two kissing each other here and there as well because truly, minimum wage didn’t pay him enough to care. The night shift was easy and if these guys bought up all the leftovers, it meant he wouldn’t have a lot to clean up when they closed at three. So really, everyone’s a winner. 

The teenager merely kept a stoic face as he rang up their order, but the human had cracked a smile when Michelangelo, quite loudly, declared that their pink afro was ‘empowering the power of gnarly bro’ and that it ‘looked like a giant ball of cotton candy and he kinda wants to eat it ‘cause he had the munchies after smokin’ with his homie here, but ain’t gonna touch his hair, because who the fuck just touches peoples’ hair without permission? That's gnarly-janai dude.’

He could tell that by the end of his little ramble there, that the dude was totally captivated by his charismatic charm judging by that small smile on his lips and shake of his head. It was the same expression his big bros wore whenever he was being a particular case of annoying but they liked his ass anyway even when they wouldn’t admit they thought whatever he was doing/saying was funny. That ol’ Michelangelo Splinterson rizz that no one could resist.

Time to reel in his new friend! 

Michelangelo had leaned against the counter, eyed the nametag that said Jamari in neat cursive with a little skull and crossbones doodled next to it, grinned, then said, “Do you fuck with Pangaea?”

Raph, who had been eyeing the three slices of Hawaiian inside the warming container on the side of the check-out counter with somewhat interest, turned to look at his brother with a frown, “Fuck is you on about?” 

Jamari glanced at his brother for a moment, then returned dark brown eyes to look at Michelangelo in silence. The turtle didn’t say anything, letting the hum of the pizza container fill the silence between them as he waited expectedly, grin still wide and friendly. 

Another pause. 

Then.

“This bitch don't know 'bout Pangaea?”

Fuck yeah, they’re besties now. 

Raph’s eyes narrowed dangerously, completely missing the reference and taking offense, “Who the hell you callin’ a bitch?”

“It’s a meme, Raphie! Don’t worry, leave it alone.” 

Raphael eyed the human longer, and since he didn’t sense any ill-intent, he grumbled and lowered his hackles a bit, “Mm…gimmie two Hawaiians and I won’t cuss your ass out.”

Shrugging, Jamari reached over to open the case and instead of two, he put the last three slices of the pineapple pizza in with their order without protest, and Raph let it go. He even stood to the side and munched on the extra slice while the two chatted; Michelangelo giggling and waving his arms around wildly while he babbled about something or another and Jamari’s smooth voice tossing in some responses here and there. 

Another extrovert adopting an introvert, a tale as old as time. 

The brothers left that pizza shop at closing with Jamari waving them off and the orange terrapin’s phone one number heavier. 

That’s usually where they got their pizza from nowadays. Michelangelo texted Jamari asking if he was working tonight on the way to the shop, and grinned when he got a text back confirming that he was. 

Usually, he’d keep the Black cashier some company and chat his ear off while he worked his shifts. The human was usually working night shifts alone besides pizza delivery drivers coming in-and-out because he adamantly refused to work with incompetent people that would make better ashtrays than coworkers (The human’s words, not his!). He was so efficient at handling everything himself, the owner just let him do what he wanted, gave him the night shifts and let it be. 

But Michelangelo was on a mission! His mate was waiting for him back home! So he had casually strolled in through the door, the door ‘s bell ringing loudly to announce his arrival, and strolled right up the counter where Jamari was on his phone and typing away. 

“Can’t stay and chat dude! My princess is waiting for me back home all alone in bed, you know how it is.”

Without lifting his gaze from his phone, the cashier reached down behind the counter to pick up the bag with his order and to place it on the counter, and pushed it towards him, “Dude, my baby ears. I don’t wanna hear about your sex life.”

“Who said anything about sex? Don’t be such a dog, Jamari! Do I gotta take you to see a priest to confess your sins?”

“Only if I get tell him, “Sorry daddy, I’ve been bad” while in a mini-skirt or some shit.” 

“Isn’t that what got you kicked out of church the second time?”

“Let’s make it a third then.”

They laughed, dapped each other up, made a quick plan that they would solidify later over text to play videogames together over the upcoming weekend, then Michelangelo was out the door. 

Two years of friendship and counting meant that the human knew he wasn’t in a costume by now, and had actually met all his bros by this point. The guy had questioned his constant use of his ‘costume’ after six months of Michenagelo coming in ‘dressed up’ and the human had barely batted an eye at the truth.

“I could give less of a fuck if you’re a mutant, man. As long as you don’t fuck with a certain cheeto bitch.”

“I can’t vote. I like, technically don’t even exist dude. But either way, fuck him!”

“Exactly,” Jamari acknowledged, “Then we ain’t got a problem.”

This was New York where anything and everything was possible, so things continued on.

Michelangelo is making his way home with the goods in his hands, climbing up fire escapes and ducking around dark corners to make his way across rooftops. It's damn near midnight, which means there’s only a vague amount of people milling around outside and the chances of him being seen are slim to none, but he isn’t taking any chances and sticks to the shadows. He’s already playing pizza delivery boy, and if another blurry photo of him gets added to that, ‘Green aliens are hiding amongst us New Yorkers THIS IS NOT CLICKBAIT I SWEAR’ blog that’s been circulating, he’ll never hear the end of it. So, stealth mode it is. 

He feels his phone vibrate in his utility belt, but he ignores it while he nimbly makes his way down a fire escape then jumps the rest of the way down, figuring he could shave off a minute or two if he goes down the alleyway. He could run through the sewers and get back faster, but if he was stuck playing delivery boy, then he might as well enjoy the fresh air while he can. 

When he lands, his phone vibrates once more, then again three seconds later, and Michelangelo shifts the bags in his right hand to grab his phone, frowning. He sees the notifications announcing texts from his red brother, and rolls his eyes.

It’s only been about thirty minutes since he’s left at this point and if it’s Raph bugging him about hurrying up with his food, he swears to Klunk that he’ll make good on his threat from earlier. 

Glancing around, he sees no humans around and no one in the alleyway itself, so he leans against the wall for a second to check the message, tapping in his lockscreen code and thumbing the message down to see what it is. 

LaughyRaphie: Don Don says ur prolly still butt hurt bout bein interrupted and that we gotta apologize

LaughyRaphie: i ain’t apologizin’ for shit, i want my damn food. But here's somethin’ to motivate u to hurry tf up. Dont ever say i dont ever do shit for u

LaughyRaphie: *VID__0143.mp4*

He frowns, and places the bag of food down to use both his hands to text. 

last time you sent me a video, i got rickrolled so if i open dis n it happens again, ur ass is grass 

He presses send, and only a few seconds pass before his phone vibrates with a reply. 

LaughyRaphie: ctfuu good times, but nah u gud. promise. 

That’s what he said last time! And the time before that! He’s not about to fall for it a third time, he’s the prankster here after all. It’s like a wise man once said; Fool me one time, shame on you. Fool me twice, can't put the blame on you. Fool me three times, fuck the peace sign, load the chopper, let it rain on you.

Amen. 

Vrrr!

He exits the conversation with Raph and checks the message from his other brother. 

DontheDoechii: Raph says you need a lil convincing to open his message, haha. I promise it’s safe baby

Oh! Well if his Princess Plum said it was safe, then who was he to ever question anything ever? He texts back his approval, making sure to throw in kaomojis because he knows it’ll make his purple mate smile. 

Okayyyyyyy! ⋆˙⟡⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⋆˙⟡ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧⋆✴︎˚｡⋆₍₍⚞(˶˃ ꒳ ˂˶)⚟⁾⁾⁠♡⁠♡⁠♡⁠♡⁠♡

He closes the chat once he sees a heart react to his message, and goes back to his messages with Raph to look at this so-called safe video. 

“Geez, why are you sendin’ me eight-minute videos if you want me back so fast?” He mumbles, but presses ‘play’. 

[The screen is dark and there seems to be shuffling, the dark screen shaking a bit before Raph says in a low voice, tone husky with a churr threatening to over take his words, “We should just have a lil fun with Leo ourselves, Mikey’s as slow as a tortoise anyway.” 

“Behave. We did interrupt him, we’re just gonna give him motivation to hurry up. I know he can get there and back in ten minutes with motivation. Clearly he’s pouting and being slow to spite us.”]

Despite his curiosity being piqued for what’s happening or, at least, about to happen, Mikey snickers, because his immediate older brother knew him so well. 

[“Besides, Leo wants Mikey, don’t you Leo?”]

The tone Donatello uses makes goosebumps rise on Mikey’s scales despite the chill weather, and he immediately turns the volume down on his phone a bit. He doesn’t have his headphones on and he rather not attract whatever human that’s walking around into peering down the alleyway and discovering him. 

[“I said, don’t you Le-o?~”]

Damnit, why is the screen still black? He can’t see shit like this. Even so, there’s a moment of expectant silence that has Mikey holding his breath. Then a sharp, wet smack! Resounds from the camera and a loud gasp follows. 

[“Y-Yes, I want Mikey.”

“Just want?” Donatello asks innocently, and another wet smack! echoes, three in quick succession that has Leo crying out.

“A-Ah! Need! I need Mikey!”

“There you go!” The purple turtle’s tone turns from stern to cheerful, pleased at the admission, “See, you can listen like a good girl, can’t you?”]

There’s a soft whine at those words that has Mikey gripping his phone and hissing in irritation. There’s about six minutes left of the video and it’s still just a black screen, just what was happening? What was going on? His imagination just from the sounds was painting a picture that was making his arousal from earlier return with a vengeance. 

[“Are you recording?”

“Of course I am!”

Silence. Some shuffling, then a long drawn out sigh is heard in exasperation, “Raph, have you been covering the camera with your thumb this entire time?”

Another moment of silence.

“...No.”]

If Michelangelo wasn’t burning with curiosity and half hard in his sheath, he’d laugh at the embarrassed expression his red brother was no doubt wearing. As it stands, he’s just thankful Don noticed the error. 

There’s more shuffling on the dark screen, then Michelangelo is given a visual that makes him immediately cover his mouth to muffle the loud groan that leaves him. 

[Donatello is sitting on Michelangelo’s bed with Leo sitting in-between his legs, his shell to Don’s chest with the purple turtle’s legs brackening the other’s legs and ankles crossed over each other’s. The leader’s legs were splayed wide and unable to close from the position. Leo’s head was tilted back over Don’s shoulder, shuddering breaths and small ‘ahs’ escaping him while the bo wielder pressed quick kisses and small nips to the other’s neck.

Muscled thighs were tense and shaking as olive fingers insistently stroked in-between Leo’s legs, the camera easily picking up the wet squelches but unable to fully pick up the whispered words that Donatello was leaning over to say into Leo’s earslit. Though whatever was said made the blue turtle whimper and raise his hips to grind against the other’s fingers. 

Then, Don looks away from the turtle in front of him to grin at the camera, and says, “Smile for the camera, Leo, Mikey’s watching.” 

At the mention of the orange turtle, Leo raises his head and it shows that his mask has been turned, hiding the eyeholes and rendering the turtle blind, “Mikey?”

Raphael’s voice comes from behind the camera, “Yeah princess, your boyfriend’s watching. So why don’tcha give him a lil motivation to hurry the fuck back with my pizza?”

“And mozzarella sticks!”

“Them too.”

Don pulls his hand away and shamelessly holds his hand up, the camera zooming in to focus on the slick coating the turtle’s fingers from their leader’s soaked pussy. The purple turtle licks the slick from his fingers off, attracting a breathless ‘damn Don’ from Raphael at his actions. Donatello slides his hand down, stroking trembling thighs and Leo whimpers, and tries to squeeze his legs together though Don’s grip easily prevents him from doing so. 

Don smacks his teeth and shakes his head, “None of that now. Bad girl.” 

Smack!]

Michelangelo gasps at the same time Leo does, and they both whine for different reasons. Leo because of the sensation and Mikey because he wanted to be the one doing the spanking! Fuck!

[“I promised Mikey that we would behave, but I’ll keep spanking your pussy if you keep misbehaving Leo.”]

Fuck fuck fuck, that’s so hot. Mikey quickly pauses the video and grabs the food to move deeper in the alleyway, immersing himself into darkness further from any possible curious eyes. He leans against the building’s brick wall, phone in his right hand and left hand cupping the bulge in his pouch with a groan. It takes only a slight pressure before his dick is in his hand, the flesh hard and tip twitching at the cool air. Mikey bites his bottom lip, muffling another moan as he strokes himself and shudders. He brings his phone back up and presses ‘play’. 

[“But that’s not really a threat to you though, huh? You like it when your pussy’s slapped with a hand or a dick.”

“N-No I don’t!”

“Oh? You don’t?”]

There’s no use in denying what all the turtles knew, after all, they know each other’s kinks and tells so well at this point. But it was fun to pretend anyway. 

Mikey wished he brought his headphones now so he could listen to the video at full volume as he watched his immediate older brother smirk and make good on his threat. Smack! Smack! Smack! Mikey hurried to lower the volume even further down, pumping himself and groaning as his mate in the video cried out, whimpering at the swift strikes to the most sensitive part of him. But he noticeably didn’t try to resist, only widening his legs further. 

God, his baby was so sexy. 

[Donatello pauses to make a beckoning motion to the camera, and the camera shakes a bit as Raphael ambles over and kneels on the bed, the mattress dipping at his added weight. The camera zooms onto Leo’s sweaty face and the dark, wet marks in the creases of the mask folds where Leo’s eyes would be. ]

“Damn,” He moans, dick twitching at the sight because Michelangelo just knows the eldest is crying from pleasure. His mouth waters at the thought of licking his tears away, and his dick aches at the thought of making him cry more. 

[Leo whispers, "Please."

The camera focuses on Leo’s face as the spanking ceases, then deep emerald fingers enter the screen to grasp Leo’s chin and tilt his face up and away from viewpoint. 

There’s a muffled moan, from whom it’s hard to tell, but the action makes the camera point fall sideways and the sound of kissing is heard. There’s deep churrs, soft sighs, before the camera rights itself and Raphael backs up to pan the camera down to in-between their mate’s legs. 

Olive fingers rest between Leonardo’s thighs and when the camera lands on them, the fingers press against the slickest part, then slowly spread Leo’s folds to fully expose him to the camera.]   

Unable to help himself, Michelangelo pauses the video and helps himself to a few screenshots. Donatello’s fingers are perfectly framing Leo's clit, it's as swollen as Mikey expected, glistening and no doubt aching, just begging for attention. Mikey’s attention. 

He grips his cock harder, stroking himself and thumbing the leaky head at the picture alone. Imaging his mouth, fingers, dick– anything being inside of his eldest brother right now and he’s dizzy with arousal, his head tilting back to rest in the wall he’s leaning against. He gives up muffling himself, freely panting and cursing to himself into the open air as heat coils in his lower belly. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, frustration and lust building inside him. 

He wishes he was home right now so that it was his fingers inside of Leo instead of Don’s. He wishes it was his phone recording this instead of Raph’s, and he wishes it was Leo’s hand stroking his shaft right now instead of his own. 

There’s only three minutes left of the video, so he forces himself to play the rest.

[Raphael says in a low voice, "You've got no idea how fuckin’turned on I am right now. You’re so fucking hot, Leo. Why do you get to play with him and I can’t?!"

“Because you’ll take it too far, and we’re just supposed to be providing motivation for Mikey. Remember?”

“So you hate me.”

“Yes. Now back up so we can show Mikey the best part, right baby?”

A grumble from Raph, a whimper from Leo, and the camera shakes as the darker scaled turtle removed himself from the bed and backed up, placing the two turtles fully back into frame. 

Donatello smiles at the camera and slowly begins rubbing Leo’s slick folds again. One hand spreads them wide and the turtle uses his other hand to immediately push two fingers inside. Leonardo gasped, arching his back to grind against the intrusion with a moan. 

“Look at the camera,” Raph voice commands out of frame. 

"I-I can't," Leo gasps, then moans loudly when a third finger joins in and his legs spread further on instinct, thighs shaking as the pressure in his stomach continues to tighten. 

Raph chuckled, and the camera zoomed in once again on what was happening in-between Leo’s legs, the two turtles out of frame,“Ya gotta, you chugged a gallon of water for this, dollface.”

"Let it all out," Don says, practically coos, and pinches Leo's clit. Adds, "C'mon, baby girl. Show Mikey how much you miss him."]

Mikey could only watch, struck dumb as Don crooks his finger and Leo makes a noise halfway between a sob and a whimper when he comes. In the video it all comes rushing out of him, Leo throws his head back as his orgasm hits, but Don continues to finger him until it comes out all at once in a clear and golden arc that splatters noisily against the sheets, soaking them. 

Leo pisses him as he cums, though Mikey could give less of a shit at something as trivial as bedding when Leo’s face was contorted in bliss at his double release. Raph said something about drinking a gallon of water for this, so the orange turtle could imagine how the utter relief from the pressure no doubt felt good. 

The sound the oldest makes is inhuman as he moves his feet further apart, but it’s too late to be careful. The scales on his toes sparkles with amber nectar and Leo slumps against Donatello, helpless as the stream continues. 

[Donatello moves his fingers from Leo’s clit and pussy to gently grasp trembling thighs and massage the flesh, keeping them spread as he nuzzles the blue turtle’s cheek, “It feels good to just let go every once in a while, doesn’t it?”

Leo must be further gone than he thought, because he doesn’t deny it and only moans,“So fucking good.”] 

For what feels like hours, but must only be seconds, Mikey watches, raptured as hot urine gushes out of Leo’s body in a steady flow. The yellow spot on the sheets grows larger and larger, soaking into the mattress none seem to pay it any mind. 

[The camera remains as still as a statue as it captures this moment, then slowly zooms out to take in the entire scene as the piss stream finally begins to die out. Leo all but slumps against Don’s chest, spent, so that Donatello’s grip on his open thighs are the only things keeping him remotely upright.

Raph whistles, impressed and a little in awe as the stream peters off into a trickle, a few stray droplets, then nothing, “Damn, dude. It’s like you chugged a gallon of water or something.”]

Mikey admires his baby in the video, and licks his lips at the delicious sight. Leo's fucking wet everywhere; drool on his chin and dripped down his neck, wet patches from tears staining the mask around his eyes and trailing down his cheeks as well, sweat glistening on his body, and the droplets of piss dribbling down his shaking thighs and legs.

He needs to be home right the fuck now or he’s gonna blow his load in this alleway, which would absolutely suck. Why cum in his hand would he could cum in his pretty little mate instead?

[The red ninja chuckles at his own little joke, then the camera shakes a bit as it pointedly turns to zoom in on the empty bottles of water tossed to the side of the bed. After a second of pausing, the screen switches, and Raphael’s face takes up the screen. He squints at the screen, grumbles, “How the fuck…?”

Don’s voice floats in from off screen, amusement and exasperation in equal parts as he speaks, “I swear, sometimes you’re worse than Splinter with technology.”

A growl, “This is why I shoulda been the one with Leo!”

“Blah blah blah, all you do is bitch. See the icon in the bottom left? Touch that and your lens will automatically zoom out.”

Lo and behold, the lens did zoom out and now all three turtles were in the frame. Raphael was looking over his shoulder, though the camera couldn’t see what expression he was making, whatever it was it was making Don grin. “Fuck you Don.”

Don laughs, nuzzling his beak against Leo’s cheek, the blue turtle remaining slumped against his younger brother, though a soft churr could faintly be heard. “Maybe after Mikey gets back.” 

Turning back to the camera, their red mate rolled his eyes then made an annoyed look at the camera. “Did that motivate ya to hurry up? You better get here with my  my damn pizza–”

“And mozzarella sticks!”

“–and the mozzarella sticks.”

Don’s expression was a little sheepish as he quickly tacked on, “We’ll make sure your bed is clean too, don’t worry.”

Raphael leered at the camera, eyes glinting and smirk sharp, all attitude, “If you ain’t here in the next twenty minutes, I’m fuckin’ Leo and Don on your bed, and I’ma eat all yer flamin’ hot funyuns.”

There’s a whine from their leader in the back in protest at the threat, but when the camera shifts to focus only on him, Donatello looks completely nonplussed and shrugs at the threat, “I’ll hold him off as much as I can, but you heard him, Sunflower. Better hurry.”

Raphael laughs off screen, and the purple ninja wiggles his finger in goodbye at the camera, smiles and coos, “Run turtle, run turtle, run, run, run. Don't give Raphie his fun, fun, fun.”

Donatello laughs, and the screen goes black.]

The sound of a manhole cover settling back into place fills the air, then silence. If anyone walks past the alleyway, there would be nothing out of the ordinary to be seen. Well, as ordinary as it could be at night in the concrete jungle. New York is where dreams were made of, where the streets would make you feel brand-new, and the big lights would inspire you to go further and beyond what you thought you were capable of. 

Perhaps the night would inspire others and the ordinary would change, but tonight, that someone was not Michelangelo. He had better things to do with his time. 

He makes it back home in seven minutes. 

It’s the middle of the night and their father is out and about somewhere, but the important matter is that he is not home. They can be as loud as they want and face no repercussions, and Michelangelo keeps this in mind when he crashes into his room with the grace of a meteor upon impact. 

If it wasn’t for the video on his phone, the orange terrapin would have no idea what transpired in his room. Ninja eyes cut around the room and noted in seconds that beyond the change of sheets to his bed and how his room now smelled like vanilla, nothing was out of place. He expected nothing less, Don was particular like that. His brother’s preciseness was exactly why he was the designated clean-up after their encounters with enemies. 

Speaking of his brother, the genius grins at the sight of his little brother in the doorway. He’s seated on the beanbag chairs on the floor, diagonal from the bed and curled up cozily against his red mate who gives a cheeky little wave. “See? I knew you could get back here soon…with the proper motivation.” 

Marching up to his older brothers lounging he thrusts the plastic bag with the containers of food at them with a growl, “Here’s your damn pizza–

“What about–”

“–and your stupid cheese sticks! Yeah yeah, I ain’t forget them.”

Raphael snorts and takes the bag, dutifully rifling through the bag and handing over the box of cheese sticks to his mate who takes it with a pleased trill. The containers are still warm, pleasantly so, which means his youngest brother really did hustle home. Good. Except… 

Michelangelo turns away and that’s when the red ninja clears his throat pointedly, and grins when his youngest mate looks over his shoulder to glare at him, turning back around with a bite of, “What?”

“Where's my drink?”

“What?” Mikey asks, confused, and Raphael politely doesn’t outright laugh in his face. He has to keep the facade up. “What drink?”

“My drink?” He says, emphasizes, and when his brother still looks dumbfounded, Raph shakes his head in mock-disappointment, “My diet Dr. Kelp? Don't tell me you forgot my drink. How am I supposed to eat this pizza without my drink?!” 

It clicks, and Michelangelo’s face twists into such a nasty sneer at the joke that the darker scaled turtle immediately laughs in his face, shoulders shaking, head thrown back, and all. But he yelps when he’s suddenly smacked upside the head, and turns to glare at his purple mate with a huff, “What?! It was funny!”

Donatello only shakes his head and looks to Mikey with a sweet smile, as if he couldn’t alphabetically list all the locations of the enemies’ bodies he’s buried. He’s demure like that, very mindful, very considerate. “Thanks for the food, Sunflower. Ignore Poppy here,” Donatello cuts a look to his immediate older brother, and Raph rolls his eyes but settles into the beanbag cushions and opens his box of pizza, signalling his truce on the affair. The genius looks back at his orange mate and gestures to their leader on the orange ninja’s bed, “Go on. I won’t let him interrupt or anything. Daisy’s waiting for you.” 

Mikey looks from mate to mate, red to purple to blue, to purple again, and he flips Raphael off with a sneer, making his brother bare his teeth in return even as he bites into his pizza slice. The youngest then bends down quickly to press a kiss against his immediate brother’s lips, the sneer turning into a smile when said mate kissed him back. He chirps, “Thanks Don! If you save me some cheese sticks, y’all can stay for the show.”

“Bet.” He settled back into the cushions, throwing his long legs over his red mate’s lap, shifting so the bed was properly in view, and opened the box of cheese sticks with a flourish, “I love a dinner and a show.”

A two finger salute, then Mikey practically skips over to his mate sitting on his bed who greeted him with a smile and an outstretched hand. Clasping the hand and bringing it to his cheek, he nuzzled the eldest’s palm briefly, raised the appendage up to his forehead to press the back of his hand there, then knelt in front of him. He folded his arms and rested them on Leo’s lap, then planted his chin on them and looked up at Leo with stars in his eyes and love in his smile. “Hiya Princess! Did you miss me? I missed you a lot. Like, alotta lot.”

Leo laughs, pink dusting his cheeks when he looks down at his youngest mate, and squeezes his hand, “Of course I did. I counted the seconds you were gone.”

Utterly pleased, giddy, he chirps, “How many seconds was I gone?’

“Two thousand, eight hundred and eighty seconds.” He replies, sure and confident. 

“Wow,” He says, impressed, and Leo’s smile widens at the tone of awe. “You kept count even when you were getting your pussy spanked and pissing yourself?”

Leonardo immediately ducks his head to hide his face, shoulders hiking up to his earslits even when Mikey coos and squeezes his hand, enamoured. “...Yes.”

“I saved the video. It was really really hot.” Mikey leans up off his knees to duck his head so he could look the eldest in his eyes, expression honest and warm, “Really hot.”

Embarrassment and guilt warred at each other, and Leo bit his lip, shy, because he wanted to bask in the praise but even after all this time, some obscene acts in the bedroom still made him self-conscious. Even if he enjoyed it. “Really?”

Good thing he had three mates who were down to offer him reassurance at any given moment, especially Michelangelo down for anything and everything because this makes my dick hard Spliterson. 

He presses a kiss to his mate’s hand one more, then nuzzles it, “I took so many screenshots and I’m gonna jerk off to it the next time Mikey Jr. wants attention.” 

Leo ducks his head further down and laughs, tone in disbelief, but Michelangelo knows his brother’s feeling better at his crude, but effective honesty. 

When the eldest looks up, his expression is sly and full of desire, cheeks flushed and Mikey’s tail wags at the sight, his princess was so beautiful. “What if I wanna give Mikey Jr. attention?”

“Well thank fuck!” He chirps, “Because I’ve been hard for like, the last thirty minutes. And I’d totally respect it if you're not in the mood anymore. But I’m also like thissssss close to dying.”

He demonstrates just how close he was to ‘dying’ by letting Leo’s hand go and pinching his thumb and pointer finger together, the skin touching. 

The blue turtle shakes his head, expression mock sympathetic, “Well. We can’t have that now, can we?” 

Leonardo scoots himself back onto the bed so his brother could climb onto the mattress with him. He makes himself comfortable, settling back on his shell and into the pile of pillows he had gathered for himself. Looking at the youngest, he keeps eye contact and opens his legs to reveal himself fully to his mate with a trill, “Let’s make sure you live.”

Mikey kneels in front of his brother and looks from his mate’s face, down to his exposed wet pussy, then back up to his brother. This entire time, even with the shenanigans that occurred while he was gone, his mate was still this wet for him?

He quickly slapped his hands together in a prayer position, and bowed his head, thankful for the gift before him, “God is good all the time, and all the time God is good. Can I get a hallelujah?”

Out of sight behind them, the peanut gallery dutifully raised a half-eaten cheese stick and the crust of a pizza slice and chimed, “Amen!”

Mikey nodded without turning around, and grinned at his eldest mate,  “Now that that’s done. I’m gonna make you cum on my tongue now.” He promised, purring low with his eyes half-lidded and earning a soft churr in response to his words. 

The youngest dropped down to settle himself in-between his brother’s legs, nuzzling a well muscled thigh as he did so, then turning his head and putting him face to face with Leo’s pussy. Mouth watering, glistening wet folds and his tiny dick standing at full attention. A lover welcoming their love back home. Just begging to be nibbled and sucked, and Mikey can see his hole, squeezing on nothing, and his own dick throbs in answer. Soon. 

He cooes in delight, ravish hunger on his features, “Hi pretty baby.” 

He kisses Leo’s dick, then licks it with a long, hard stroke that startled a cry out of the eldest above him and the noise went straight to his own aching dick. He could feel that his cock had already sprung free from his sheath and leaking once again, but he needed to show his mate just how much he missed him first. Michelangelo moved his hands to his brother’s ass and cupped firm cheeks to hold him steady, bringing him closer then buried his face in his brother’s pussy with a ravenous hunger. 

Leonardo jerks in his grip, whines, and Mikey feels fingers threading themselves through his mask-tails to gain a proper grip. Another lick, a whine, and more slick slips out of the eldest turtle and into Michelangelo’s mouth, covering his tongue, trails down his chin, and Mikey groans, laps it up like a starved dog. He keeps his grip on Leo’s ass firm to hold him steady, for Mikey to taste him as he wishes. 

His grip, while steady, remains loose to allow his brother to raise his hips as he sees fit to ride his face. Mikey’s eating pussy for his own appetite and wants his love to enjoy every last second. Up and down, up and down, Leonardo raises his hips, tugs his brother closer, and grinds his pussy against that tongue swirling and licking inside him, greedily lapping up any slick and while its owner purposely slurping loudly. 

Michelangelo eats pussy loudly, messily, likes to let the owner of said pussy know that he’s enjoying his meal thoroughly and plans to lick his plate clean.  

It’s embarrassing. 

But stupidly hot, so none complain that much about it. 

Mikey moans into him and fucks his tongue in and out of Leo’s quivering pussy, coaxing more slick to ooze down his thighs, anything his mouth doesn’t catch dripping onto the fresh pair of sheets below them. 

It’s hard to re-focus on anything but the taste of his brother and the way he’s all fucking himself on his tongue and grinding on his beak, but Leonardo’s talking, babbling, says, “Oh- oh fuck- Mikey! Ah, ah! I’m close! Please! More!”  

Michelangelo retracts his tongue, wraps his mouth around his princess’ clit and sucks, and listens intently to Leo’s cry with a pleased hum. Gets a better idea, and pushes himself onto his knees, changes his grip to Leo’s thighs, and continues to keep sucking while he has his mate’s body nearly folded in half. 

Leonardo cries out and loses his grip on his brother’s mask, and instead tucks his hands behind him to clench at the pillows, panting and body trembling at the impending orgasm on the horizon, “M-Mikey! Please!”

He pulls his mouth off with a purposely wet pop! and a wicked grin, “Your wish is my command, princess.” He lowers the turtle’s body back down fully onto the mattress, and uses his hands to spread the eldest’s legs wide open, then moves in between them to keep them open with his own thighs by sitting between them on the back his own haunches. 

Mikey says, staring down at his lover, breathless and absolutely smitten, "You're a sight, y'know that?"

His eldest mate only whines again, raising his hips in invitation, and Mikey answers by using one hand to hold his brother’s knee to keep him in place and using the other hand to immediately sink two fingers inside him. 

Leonardo would feel a twinge of embarrassment at how easily Michelangelo’s fingers filled him from how wet he was, both from his own body and the orange turtle’s spit, but also Michelangelo’s fingers were finally filling him, and that was all he could focus on. The stretch felt incredible and he wanted more. 

Seeing the blissful expression on his mate’s face had Mikey’s tail wagging, grin wide as he pulled his fingers out to the knuckle on to swiftly thrust them back inside, a little rough with the reward for Leo crying out once again, “It’s okay baby, I know two fingers ain’t enough to satisfy ya. But you’ll take my hand for a bit, then I want you to squirt on my fingers before I cum inside you.”

Mikey’s hand stays buried between Leonardo’s thighs, his fingers relentless. Two quickly becomes three now – slick and strong, pumping into Leo’s tight, soaked heat with a rhythm that started slow and in seconds turned deep and rough. Just the way the youngest knew his princess liked it. 

Leonardo moans, the sound cracked, helpless, every thrust stretching him, filling him and preparing him to take something bigger than his brother’s thick fingers. Knowing what would soon happen only made his pussy throb and clench around his brother’s fingers, getting wetter and the squelch of his pussy joining the canopy of his cries and Mikey’s babbling that he was only able to half listen to.

“Yeah yeah yeah, you like that? You like taking my hand baby?”

“Yes!” He cries out when the hand on his knee moves to pinch his clit instead, stimulating the throbbing nub and he clenches tighter around Mikey’s fingers, head tipping back to slam into the pile of pillows below him, his hands gripping tightly onto said pillows just to anchor himself amongst the waves of pleasure crashing down on him. “You’re doing so good -ah!- yes! -mhm!- J-Just like that! I wanna cum for you, make me cum f-for you! Shit-ah!” 

His thighs are shaking, heat coiling tightly in his abdomen, hips canting forward and grinding into Mikey’s palm as his fingers curl deep inside and drag up against his walls, pressing against the spot inside him that makes him cry out even louder. The lewd sound of knuckles slapping wetly against his slick folds loud when the fingers rolling his clit switches to rapidly rubbing tight circles over his dick. “Fuck! Ah—! Mhm! Please! I need to–!”

Michelangelo groans in response, low and husky‚ and watches with rapt attention as Leo’s eyes flutter shut and his body tenses, and damn near cums un-touched when his mate’s pussy tightens around his fingers. Fuck fuck fuck, he wants to be inside him so bad, but he has to wait a little more. “Yes! Cum for me princess. I love how fucking wet you are, soaking my fuckin’ hand!” 

He knows when his brother throws his head to the side with a strangled moan breaking free that his orgasm hits, and Mikey fingers him through it to prolong his climax even further. Leo’s hips give a sharp jerk as he squeezes bruising tight around Mikey’s fingers, more slick spilling obscenely from him to drip down Mikey's wrist and drip down onto the sheets. 

"M-Mikey! Ah - ah!" He cries, body pulsing inside and out, arching his back and raising his hips, shaking through the orgasm's intensity. 

“Yeah - fuck, just like that princess, cum on my fingers like the good girl you are.” Mikey babbles, not relenting for even a second as he works his mate’s fluttering cunt. Determined to milk his orgasm for everything the leader in blue can give, then–

Leonardo’s groans turn broken and stutters as he writhes, crying out as he squirts on his brother’s fingers. Creaming himself on those insistent digits, insides still clenching rhythmically but weakly around the youngest turtle’s fingers as he finds himself caught between grinding into the fingers that prolongs his release and flinching away as he tips over the edge of overstimulation. 

“Mike….y!” He sobs, voice begging for reprieve before he finally slumps fully back onto the mattress, spent and trembling.

Michelangelo coos, delighted and giddy at his mate’s blissed out expression and gently pulls his fingers out of his brother’s pussy, churring when Leonardo makes a tired whine of protest at the empty immediate empty feeling. “You did good. My beautiful fountain.”

He goes to move to stretch his legs, raising up off his haunches to a kneeling position when a leg suddenly curls around his waist and yanks him closer causing him to stumble forward. He catches himself on his hands then looks at his mate, confused, “Leo?”

The look Leo levels at him makes him shiver, suddenly feeling like the tables have been turned. His mate wraps his other leg around his waist, crossing his ankles behind his shell and surely locking him in place. Not that he was planning to go anywhere, but shit if he didn’t whimper when the blue turtle purrs, “You’re not done yet, big boy. You’ve been so good for me, waiting all this time and making me feel good. You deserve a reward.”

Michelangelo whines, jerkily nods his head like a broken bobble head, or perhaps like a puppet helpless to its master’s whims, and babbles, “Yeah yeah, I’ve been a good boy.”

“You sure have, handsome.” Leo churrs, and leans up on his forearms to briefly nuzzle their beaks together, trilling, then drops back down onto his shell. Relaxing and spreading his thighs wide, he dug his ankles into his brother’s lower shell scutes to coax him closer, “Give princess what he wants and take what you need.”

Just for that comment he almost wants to take another pause for a prayer in thanks, but he’s been ignoring his own need for so long and can’t take it much longer. 

Michelangelo shuffles forward, properly slots their hips together, and pressed the head of his cock against his brother’s open pussy, then pushes his tip inside. It was only the tip, but just the small feel of his mate’s warm, wet heat engulfing the head had the orange turtle sliding in the rest of the way with a relieved groan, “Fuckkkkkk, there we go baby, I missed you. You feel amazing.” 

His brother’s fingers felt great, his tongue was even better, but nothing could compare to the feel of the youngest turtle’s fat cock filling him to the brim and stretching his slick walls like he was coming home. He was a little sore after the orgasm, but even the ache was overshadowed by the pleasure just from his mate being inside of him. “Yeah? Do you like it like that? You like how wet I am for you, baby?”

“Yes princess, I love it. You make me feel so good,” He moans, waits a moment for his mate to adjust, then when Leo purposely clenches around his dick, he pulls out half way then rolls his hips forward with a pleased sigh. 

Since the earlier blue balls, the home-made porno, and fingering Leo to the turtle’s own completion, he hadn’t cum at all. No way would he last long now, but he’d make the most of his time anyway. 

Leo moaned, slick pooled beneath him, pushed out by the thick invading cock as his youngest brother continued to pump his hips to thrust in and out of him. The pace steady and unhurried, each sharp thrust accompanied by a wet plap! that echoed in the room. 

Mikey leaned forward, hands circling his waist and crowding into his space to kiss him, and it made everything else feel bigger and brighter. The fire in his belly was low, simmering, he doesn’t think he can cum again so soon, but he does feel the way his brother’s cock is throbbing as it rubs against his walls, and knows the youngest turtle is close. He’ll help him reach his peak faster. 

He raises his arms to encircle them around his baby’s neck, tucks him closer so he can murmur in his earslit, breathless and whiney, the way the leader knows will drive the orange ninja to the edge, “Don’t stop baby, I can take it. You feel so good inside me, so big and thick in my wet little pussy.”

Michelangelo whines, hips stuttering and losing the rhythm he had and buries his face into Leo’s neck, completely missing the pleased smirk on his mate’s fates as he whimpers, “L-Leo, nnng, I–”

“That’s right, say my name,” He coos, strokes the back of his mate’s neck and presses kisses against his cheek, moans,  “Say who’s pussy makes you hungry.”

“Leo! Ah! L-Leo! I can’t,” The orange ninja whimpers, and Leo's breath hitches as Mikey moans and thrusts into him harder, faster, rutting into the blue turtle as his peak rapidly approaches. 

 He’s tipping over the edge when Leo moans in his ear, “T-That’s it, yes! Mmm, I know, baby, I know, cum inside and mark your territory.”

Michelangelo can do nothing but follow his leader’s orders and cums hard inside the turtle beneath. He spills himself within Leo’s pussy with a guttural cry of the blue turtle’s name, and when Leo thinks he is done cumming, Mikey pulls out, only to thrust back in hard to fill his mate up more. 

Leo moans at the sensation of being filled, and it catches him off guard when he shudders and cums for the second time, this orgasm significantly less intense but has his toes curling and leaves him pleasantly aching none the less. He’s too stuffed to hold it all in and it gushes out of him, Mikey’s spent joining his slick on the sheets and staining it further. 

When Michenagelo catches his breath, he nuzzles his brother’s neck, kisses him there, then leans back to pull his cock out, and more cum spills out. He chuckles,  and reaches down to gently pull apart the folds of Leo’s vulva to watch it flow out of him. “Gorgeous,” he sighs, content. “I kinda wanna stuff it back inside. I can give you a proper creampie if you gimmie five minutes. What do you say?”

Leo laughs, then places his hand against his mate’s face frog and center and purposely shoves him backwards, “No way. I pissed myself and came three times today. I'm hungry and I need a shower, preferably a bath.”

Mikey falls back onto his shell at the push, whines, “So you hate me.”

Leo closes his legs and makes a shooing motion, smirking “Yes. Now go run me a bath. Are there any bath bombs left?”

Michelangelo groans and rolls over onto his stomach then pushes himself up to sit and throw his legs over the edge of the bed, “Yes, your highness. Do you want the one that smells like eucalyptus and peppermint, or lavender?”

“Eucalyptus? That’s a big word for Elmo.” Mikey rolls his eyes and turns his head to the corner of the room at the comment, scowling when Raph grins at him mockingly. “We just gave you a free show, you should be thanking me!”

“Nope, I’ve seen better.” Raphael’s grin widens when his little brother only scowls harder at him, but Donatello interjects with a pinch to his immediate mate’s arm, twisting the skin and ignoring the hiss the action he gets. “He’s lying, don’t believe him. He was just grumbling about how long it’s been since he’s gotten eaten out.”

The red ninja splutters out a, “You fuckin’ snitch!” and Leo grins, amused and sits on the edge of the bed, “Aw, don’t be jealous Raph. I’ll go take a bath, Mikey can eat you out, and Don can watch. Everyone wins.”

Hearing this, Mikey crosses his arms and frowns, “Hey! I didn’t consent to this! You can’t just offer my services!” The youngest huffs, glaring at the darker scaled turtles when forest green fingers cupped his chin and made him look away to meet the gaze of the eldest. “What?!”

Leo smiles and kisses him and, helpless, Mikey returns the kiss with no resistance, because when Leo kisses you, you couldn’t help but kiss him back. It was just another one of those laws of the universe that Donatello would go on about. Something something relativity, something, correspondence, blah blah polarity, blah, if Leo kisses you then you gotta kiss back. Simple. 

Mikey breathes into his mouth and Leo takes advantage of this to slide his tongue against his. It's slick and smooth, teeth nipping his lip and Leo's tongue bullying into his mouth, and Mikey opens his mouth wider to allow him more access with a soft moan. His princess taking whatever he wanted and Michelangelo happily giving in. 

Leo's thumb caresses his chin, his jaw, then deliberately and slowly trails down his plastron, dips low in-between his legs and cups his softened cock. Mikey moans, and Leo bites his tongue, just enough to pinch, and chuckles when the limp organ in his hand twitches with interest. He pulls away for Mikey to gasp, catch his breath, and Leo kisses him again, chaste, and murmurs soft against his lips only for him to hear, “Time to get your revenge on Raph, hm? I can’t wait to see the mess you make of him. I’ll leave your bathroom door open so I can listen from the bath.”

The cock in his hand is half hard now, and Leo grins, because his youngest brother’s stamina was nothing to dismiss. With a light squeeze, he lets his brother’s length go and stands up in one motion and walks towards the bathroom door. He doesn’t look back to see the pout that’s no doubt on his mate’s face, but lets the swat against his ass happen with a shake of his head. 

Leo asks, “Did you leave us any food?”

Donatello gestures to the box on the floor beside them on the beanbags, “Yup! A reward for a wonderful show of course.”

Mikey falls back onto his shell with a mock sigh, completely at ease with the soiled sheets. He wasn’t gonna change them until they were absolutely done with any and all sexual activities. Changing sheets three times in one night was ridiculous, and no way was he gonna bother himself with doing laundry. 

“Aight Raphie, ya heard the leader! Bring that pussy over here.” He cranes his neck to look imploringly at his immediate mate,  “Don baby, could you heat up the pizza and sticks? And snag me my leftovers from Sam’s Steakout from the fridge? Pretty please and thank you.” He pointedly rubs his stomach with a whine, “I’m being worked like a dog and I need me calories!”

Don pushes himself to his feet with a chirp of “Gotcha!” and leaves the room, snagging the box of leftovers on the way out while Raphael sneers at the turtle on the bed, “You ain’t the boss of me. I ain’t gotta do shit you say.”

Pushing himself up to his forearms, Mikey glares at his red brother, temper rising to meet the other’s attitude. Snapping, “You know what? Fuck you. Fuck your mask, fuck your sai, fuck your pizza that you made me go out and pick up, and fuck your mozzerla sticks. Fuck your utility belt, fuck your stupid and sexy ass Brooklyn accent, and fuck your non-technology knowin’ ass for makin’ me watch two minutes of a black screen. And you know what? While I’m at it, fuck those people who wrote that stupid green alien article about me. They didn’t even get a good picture.”

He then drops back down onto his shell and grunts, “This is America. I don’t care what the nasty orange says, my president is Black and my Lambo is blue. Now, bring your stupidly juicy pussy over here so I can put my mouth on it, or I’m slapping the shit out of you.”

Silence fills the room after his little tangent, then there’s the sound of water running and muffled laughter from Leonardo in the bathroom before Michelangelo feels his mattress dip with his red brother’s weight getting on. 

He doesn’t bother turning his head when Raph’s face comes into view above him, and only grins when his red mate hisses, “Your broke ass can’t even afford a Lambo.”

“We both know we’re all just Don’s sugar babies at the end of the day. We have premium health insurance ‘cause of him and his totally not business of embezzling from rich people.”

The water stops and Leo calls out, “I didn’t hear anything over the water!”

Mikey doesn’t look away from his glaring mate and only hollers back, “Nope! Sure didn’t!”

Raphael continues to glare, “You think yer so smart, huh? Cheeky comments and thinkin’ you can just get away with cussin’ at me and threatening to slap me. I should slap the taste outta yer mouth.”

In the bathroom and from behind curtains, Leo calls out once again, entertained, and the faint sound of water sloshing was the sign that he was officially sitting in the tub. “If you don’t want him talking, just sit on his face.”

“Yeah Raphie,” He purrs, hands moving to place themselves on his big brother’s thick waist with a grin, “Shut me up. I ain’t got a lambo to ride, so you might as well ride my face. It'd be supreme.”

That was stupid ass response, and he knows, that his brother knows, that it was a stupid ass response. 

Seriously debating between receiving some good ass head or busting his brother’s front teeth out and then some, Raphael only stalls for another moment until those fingers squeeze his waist once more, wanting, and the turtle underneath trills. 

Raph huffs, decides his youngest brother gets to keep his teeth another day, and raises himself up and scoots closer, then slowly lowers himself down onto Michelangelo’s eager mouth, tongue wiggling itself into his aching pussy with a pleased sigh. 

At the very least, Michelangelo was good for giving head and made a tolerable delivery boy. Even if his pizza and mozzarella sticks weren’t that hot. He’d overlook it, this time.