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You were going to fuck this afternoon.
The anticipation lay heavy in your stomach, having built over an afternoon of idle hours. The lair is quiet, the heat pounding into the pavement above ground and the sweltering humidity down here in the sewer having stilled even Mikey’s restless movement. He’d vanished just after lunch, skateboard in hand. Probably going to see the Mutanimals.
‘They have central air and heat.’ Donnie had told you earlier, while he soaped plates with a sleepy sort of contemplation. He seemed almost docile now that everyone had eaten, the circles under his eyes telling a story of sleepless nights, rings in the cross-section of a tired tree. His hands were steady on the slippery china though, and he handed it off to you easily, contradicting his tired eyes. ‘Those land-dwelling punks.’
His grin had made you laugh, but he didn’t hang around, sinking into the cool depths of his lab. The steady whirr beyond the dark of the door was tempting, but you wanted a shower more than you felt like trying to pull Don from whatever he had lost himself. If it was enough to have kept him from sleep, in this heat? You knew you couldn’t compete.
You passed Leo’s open door, peeking at where he was seated, deep in meditation. You gentled the weight of your tread, your clumsy caution garnering you a small quirk of his lips. Just ahead was the bathroom, and you slipped inside, enjoying the cool tile on your bare feet. The shower has been your only reprieve from the long afternoons while the sun does it’s worst, but nothing relieves the persistent moisture living in the sewers during summer. Even the walls seemed to sweat when you happened to bump against them.
The cool tips of your damp hair grazed the back of your neck with each step, the only part of it you could feel in the ponytail you’d pulled it into. The door to Leo’s room was closed when you passed back by, the air still smoky with the smell of his incense. It hung in the air around his room, the heady, crumbly herb smell a constant, pressed into the very grooves of his shell. Some days, after long hours training, it seemed like he sweat the stuff, sooty and sweet.
The common area had been abandoned for more temperate climates, and you knew why- the heat in here was oppressive. Despite being the most open space in the lair, it was closest to the surface and already you could feel sweat sliding along your cheek. Still, it had a TV, and that was what you really wanted. To stretch out across the couch, and melt into some daytime television. You had a book you’d been working through on the side table, in case you gained a second wind.
If you were honest, you were probably just going to nap.
Intent on your goal, you don’t see him until you’re almost on top of him, one hand still braced on the arm of the couch, inches from his crossed ankles.
He’d seen you though, indolent green gaze watching you without moving. His red mask was nowhere to be seen, and you were always surprised at how open Raph looked without anything hiding him. You smiled, and he nodded at you, curling his feet up, so you could plop down beside him. He didn’t say anything, just handed you the remote, and a few moments passed in relative peace as you channel surf.
You knew, though. Opposite ends of the couch, and just one look, but you knew.
“ ‘S fucking hot.” Raph says, his voice rough and you look over at where he’s curled into his shell, head propped on his crossed forearms. It puts the smooth definition of his arms in focus, his eyes lined from fatigue, but he watches you steadily, patiently. It makes your attention narrow to him, and as it does you feel your mouth go dry. Heat of a different kind builds in you, and embarrassed at the extreme shift in your desires, you pull your eyes away from his sharply.“ I don’t know how you’re wearing all that.”
You dart a glance down at the singlet and running shorts you’re wearing, not even anything underneath in tribute to the summer season. He’s gotta be kidding.
“I’d take it off,” You tell him, your voice wry. “But what would Master Splinter say?”
Raph cracks a grin at you, the expression narrowing his brilliant eyes and you can see his own interest, obvious in the lingering look he sends down your body.
“My child, when I said to bare your inner self, I did not mean it like that.” Raph says, voice held low and grave, rubbing his chin playfully. You burst into pleased laughter and he looks smug, before he can catch himself. You can feel your nipples rubbing against the soft fabric of your top. You want him, and he wants you too. The comfortable certainty in this makes you feel a little loose and sensitive, and you let your body relax into the slope of the couch beside him, conscious of the small places your skin brushes his. It’s perfect. Brainless.
You settle the TV on a sci-fi movie neither of you have seen, turning the volume up just high enough to hear more than a dull rumble, and for a little while you both watch a plucky group of humans bravely defend their world from alien invaders. The movie is fine, but it’s not enough to distract you from the pull you feel just sitting beside him. Now that you’ve acknowledged it, the realization won’t leave you. Your toes find a way under his calf, even though they certainly aren’t cold and you realize his skin is warmer than normal today. Raph especially, runs a little cooler than the human average, but today you can barely feel where your skin ends and his begins as the heat grows at every point of contact.
It explained his current attitude. The heat made all of them lazy. Don said he wasn’t sure if it was because of their normally lowered body temperature, or if they just didn’t like doing katas in ninety degree weather, either.
Just as the humans are discussing whether or not they should torture their alien captive, Raph gets restless. He shifts, again and then again, movements agitated. You scooch over trying to give him more space, but he just sighs, and then spreads his legs.
Gestures for you.
“Nah, c’mere...”
Heat rushes through you, and you know it shows on your face, from the sudden laughter in his eyes. You raise an eyebrow at him, and he crooks his fingers for you again, more impatiently. The heat had yet to soften the temperaments of either of you.
“C’mon, this way we can both lay down.”
When you waver closer, he snags you with one arm, pulling you flat against him, pressing you chest first into the hard planes of his plastron.
“ ‘S hot.” You tell him, your voice pressed into the hollow of his throat, the edge of his plastron pressing into your jaw and Raph laughs. You can feel the vibrations where your lips skim his skin. Your legs tangle at the end of the couch, and already you can feel, hot slick spots of sweat pooling in all the places your bodies touch. You kick at his ankles, trying to get some room, but he just pins your feet with his own.
“Too hot?” He asks softly, and you look up at his face, shadowed in the dim room. His green skin is young, unlined despite everything the eyes searching yours have seen.
He tries so hard to be careful with you. They all do.
“No.” You tell him, and his mouth curls into a small smile, his eyes soft like he was watching Chompy. ‘Or you’ you realize, and the thought makes you press your face back into the hollow of his throat. Letting yourself have this, have them still takes practice.“I like it.”
“Yeah?” He says. His eyes drift to your lips and for a second you think he’s going to kiss you. It’s always a revelation how much you want him to. Instead, he wraps an arm around you, and eases back on his shell, letting his head bend to the arm rest comfortably. “Good. Watch the movie.”
The echoing curl of want, like dissipating smoke, makes you shiver against him.
It’s comfortable though, the curve of his shell keeping you high enough to see the TV, and the heat that you had thought would be unbearable instead sinks, weighty, into your bones. You feel languid and when his hand starts up a simple rhythm on your back, unmindful of the sweat on your skin or the restless shifting of your body, it’s good enough to make you cling at the edges of his carapace, keeping him close. You tilt your head up, pressing your chin unevenly to the hard curvature of his plastron and his expression is far enough away that you wonder if he’s even aware what he’s doing. All of the turtles keep their hands busy, seemingly unable of sitting still outside of meditation.
A finger jabs rudely into your side, and you squirm from it’s reach, hard to do when you’re sharing a couch.
“Had to make sure.” Raphael says, and you raise an eyebrow. “That you weren’t dead.”
“Yeah, well.” You grumble. “Why don’tcha leave the world of doctoring to Don?”
“Hey!” Raph says, mock outrage masking the sly humor to his words. “I give a pretty good physical.”
You snort against his chest. On screen, the protagonist argues against harming the aliens. The others reluctantly agree, and then a commercial for a vegetable slicer comes on and you let your eyes slide shut. Raph’s hand resumes it’s sweet patterns across your back and shoulders, the constant grounding touch letting your mind drift. He is easily as nice to lay on as the couch, the shape of his body a familiar rest for your own. His stiff plating is cooler than your skin, and you splay across him like a cat in the sun. You shift your hip again, and Raph inhales shakily as your thigh drags across the swelling bulge in his plastron.
“Raphael. Is that the remote or are you-”
“You get that line from Mikey?”
You pause, letting your affronted silence speak for you.
“You were right.” You say finally, rubbing your body against him once more, teasingly, before going still. “Let’s watch the movie.”
Raph laughs, the force of it lifting you as his chest expands, bringing you along for the ride. His hands have become more focused in their exploration, thick digits stroking the small of your back, dipping low to play with the elastic of your waistband. Being with him is easy, your shared silence an escape in a full house. It’s always been that way between the two of you, communication as simple as your eyes meeting across the roof. You press into him, and when you move, Raphael moves with you, his legs tensing as he steadies his hips.
You sigh and the sound is barely audible over the low drone of the TV, but it makes Raph bare his teeth in a smile. His hands are weights on each hip anchoring you against him as you sit up. You lean down impulsively to smooth a kiss across his smirk and you’ve wrestled him to the ground often enough in the dojo to be able to feel the subtle shifting of his plastron as he tenses, muscles giving away the jerk of his upper body as he grabs for you playfully. He’s fast but you swerve back before he can drag you onto him.
You’ve seen him move much faster. Impossibly fast, often enough to know your escape was definitely an allowance, and your heart is a hungry thing in your throat, beating wildly as you splay a hand across his scarred scutes.
Raph sits back, allowing you to rest on your heels between his spread legs, still watching you, eyes glinting in the dim light. You let your nails scrape down the keratinous length of bony plating, the rasping sound almost as pleasing to you, as it is to him. Down, until your hand comes to a stop, cupping the bulge of his plastron , where his body keeps him hidden from you. Raph’s hips raise at your touch, and it makes you flash him a grin, pleased with yourself.
“You having fun down there?” He asks, breaking the companionable silence and you let your fingers slide along the dip between his scutes for an answer. You can feel the soft press of flesh, opening more as your fingers pet him softly, like you’d pet yourself. It makes his breath come hard and heavy from between his parted lips. He’s hot everywhere, but warmer just inside, just behind the soft line of flesh where you can feel him swelling to meet your fingers. Raph’s hands wrap around your upper arms just as he pushes free of his shell, the sudden motion knocking you against him.
“Definitely.” You tell him, and his hands lift you easily, until your legs are spread across him, your hands pressed to his shoulders for his balance. His eyes are huge this close and they search your face as you swallow before speaking. “You?”
“What do you think?” He breathes, his voice strained and rasping. The voice he used for intimidating Dragons from the shadows. Normally his Batman impression made you giggle, but his hips raise again, and pressed together like this, you can feel every hard, wet inch of him against the inseam of your shorts. It makes you shudder instead, and the heat that had been pushing at you earlier returns full force.“You think I’m having fun?”
“Oh, god.”
He rolls into you again, his body lifting you forcefully enough that your knees just brush the couch to either side of him. It makes you squeal and clutch for him, your hands going from his shoulders to the solid bulk of his arms, wrapping you together. He’s smiling at you, his eyes open without the blinder of his mask, and it’s such a change from when you first came into their lives that it makes you grin back at him. You’d known from the moment you’d seen him on the couch what you wanted, and it was thrilling to know you were going to get it.
Your mouths meet simultaneously, wet, pressing kisses. Raph’s jaw is wider than yours and you open yourself further to compensate. Sweat rolls down your spine, and your hands slip where they grip at the powerful tensing muscle in his arms. His tongue slides into your mouth, big and messy, making you groan around him. His tongue fucks into your mouth while you gasp, and it’s almost too much, hard to breathe, making your pulse race. His hips match the rhythm, a crude insinuation of his plans for you.
When you pull away, your chin is wet with spit, and you’re panting over him and Raph looks as crazy for it as you feel. His hands go to the hem of your top just as yours do, and you fight him for it briefly, laughing when he wrenches it from you.
“Impatient.” You tell him, and he surges against you, pressing you backwards into the soft leather cushions. He eases you back with one broad palm spanning your back, tilting your breasts up to him like he’s being served. It‘s a vulnerable position and the quick reversal lifts your pulse. They’re all good at directing your body, but Raph always seemed to get a particular pleasure out of the physicality of your interactions together. His smug look seems to prove your point.
“Yeah. Probably.” His tongue is a wet relief across the stiff, aching points of your nipples, there and gone. “Whattya gonna do about it?”
“Please.”
“Yeah, alright.” He says, like he's doing you a favor and you groan, wriggling over his hand, making your breasts bounce. His eyes track the movement heatedly and you don’t want to wait anymore. You don’t want his mouth.
You let your legs fall wider under him, one hand pushing at your shorts, stretching them to the side, enough for him to press himself against you, skin to skin.
“C’mon.” You tell him, and he pushes against you, a blunt force where you’re most open, most wet. You push back onto him, around him, and it pulls a grunt from him at the feel. “Raph, c'mon-oh.”
“Fuck.” He breathes. “And I’m impatient."
His hips wiggle forward another inch, forcing himself deeper into your body, stretching you as he moves. It’s a tight fit, your body pinned into the soft cushions, making him fight to press into you. The banding of your shorts cuts into your waist, but you just pull closer, your toes scrunching along the fabric for traction. Explosions are roaring dully from the TV, and who knows how long you have alone but you want him. You’ve waited all afternoon and your hands pull him closer, helping him balance over you. Anything to get him in you.
The hand he had braced over you slips, ninja training no match for sweaty bodies on leather. Raph slams into you with his full weight, knocking the breath from you, pushing you hard against his shell as your body rebels at the swift, pleasurable intrusion. You can hear him breathe all in a rush, before he pulls out, a slow grinding slide. A tighter fit than normal in this position, but the burn just makes you want it more today. Poised over you, he stares down, and you can feel your body clench in anticipation.
He doesn’t move.
“C’mon.” You tell him frustrated, and he’s smiling a little now, even as you watch sweat bead on his skin. “Raph.”
“I dunno.” He says, and his voice even, good-natured. The jerk. “I can wait. Can’t you?”
You grind upward against him, but he lets the weight of his shell keep you comfortably still, allowing only the smallest movements, and this must be for his own safety, because suddenly you aren’t sure if you want to fuck him, or to murder him.
“Raph.” You whine, and he snorts a laugh, before allowing his hips to dip fractionally from their stiff position, and even the taste of what you want is enough to make you groan.
“Maybe if you ask nicely.” He says and you know exactly what to say.
You got the line from Mikey.
“Oh, please Raphie-”
He drops into you again, and your thighs shake as you try not to go limp at the feeling. All the way out again, and you toss your head, a whine building in the back of your throat and then he’s slamming his way into you again, shaping you to fit him. You can’t really move, his arms bracketing your head, the air stifled and hot between you. It’s exactly what you’d wanted the whole day, as if you’d woken up needful of this. Your body squeezes around him, holding him deep inside and you let your arms find their way around his neck. You want to keep him close in all the ways you can.
“I wanted this the second I saw you walk in.” Raph says in a rush, like an admittance. He’s built up a rhythm now, his hips rising and falling over you unmindful of the way you shake under him. His eyes are fixed on your face, and you squeeze a hand between the rocking press of your bodies to lay it against his cheek.“Wanted in you-”
“Me too.” You confess, and he thrusts into you harder, putting real force behind it, and you’ll be bruised later for training, but you won’t mind. Everything will remind you of this sweat-soaked second, your body desperate for his. “I wanted this, wanted you, when I saw you-”
“Won’t wait then.” He says, the words almost a mutter. Your sweat is making your back slide stickily against the leather of the cushions. “Next time. I knew you wanted it, but-”
“Always.” You say, your voice wobbling, and you watch it hit him, his fierce countenance replaced with open want. His body speeds, demanding participation, the bounce of the couch forcing you back up to meet him for every thrust. You can hear the arm rest creaking where he’s bracing himself, holding his shell over you.
You’d looked at him, spread across the brown leather, lazy with the heat and your eyes had met his, your hand inches from him and you’d wanted this. Wanted him, in you and over you, the heat of the afternoon melting the two of you so perfectly together.
“I love you, Raph." You say, breathless and he’s dragging in and out of you, the swollen push and pull of him in you bringing you closer and closer to the edge of release, making you tense helplessly. “I always want you-always-Raph-”
He moves wildly over you, and you come in a fierce, clenching rush, your pussy tightening in spasms around him, your arms and legs locking you to him as you jerk at the mercy of your body. He churrs, a groaning rumble, hips losing any measure as you shake apart around him, held to the couch by his cock as though stuck through with a pin. His hips are still meeting yours, in stuttering jerks, and as you rouse from the pinging rush he’d pulled from your body, Raph comes apart inside you.
His body trembles with the force of his orgasm, and you can feel his cock jerking deep in you, deep enough to ache. His eyes are squeezed shut, and you watch Raphael shake with a feeling of rising satisfaction, your body warm and full. You’re both breathing heavily, and the room smells thick and wet, like sweat and sex. His body has slowed over you, and you can feel the tender quiver of his cock softening inside of you, the burn of your skin where the steady scrape of his plastron has rubbed you pink and sensitive.
“Yeah, we should do that first, next time.” You say, and then laugh at the sound of your voice, dreamy like a drunk. He’s fucked you silly. He’s laughing at you too, his sweet green eyes barely visible from the press of his smile. His body is slipping from yours, and you mourn the loss of him.
You would keep him close in all the ways you could.
Raph pulls himself free of your body, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, before he stands. You feel boneless, used and spoiled, stretched out across the couch, exactly how you wanted to spend the afternoon, and his smile seems to know it.
“You look like you’re part of the couch.” He murmurs, and you shrug, enjoying the loose bounce of your body at the motion.You tug at your shorts, while Raph slips, softened, back behind his shell. You aren’t really sure anything could bother you right now, you feel so amazing.
“Training in fifteen minutes.” Leo says, walking behind the couch on his way to the kitchen. He sounds a little apologetic, but mostly amused, as he bends his head into the refrigerator. Probably grabbing water bottles. For training. You groan. “In case you wanted a shower first?”