Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - 3 - Loose Ends
#3 of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - More Than Brothers
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - More Than Brothers series These stories are based on a mixture of the TMNT comic universe and the New TMNT 2003 Cartoon series universe. This basically means three things: 1) All the turtles have tails. Just like real turtles. 2) The age distribution from oldest to youngest goes: Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, Michelangelo. 3) The storyline of the first several stories is that of the TMNT 2003 series. This is just to give them some context and a starting point for the author, so maybe later stories will be written to fit into the storyline of the old cartoon series. Nobody knows yet. The usual disclaimers apply. We don't own the Turtles, this is fanfiction. All credit for their creation goes to Mirage Studios. Don't read it if you're not old enough. Don't read it if you don't like the idea of two or more of the turtles pulling their bodies together - their hard, natural armor grinding in small passionate motions, heads drawing closer.. closer.. a bead of sweat running down the smooth, green skin as the shared breath between them is gradually reduced to just an inch between their succulent lips, which finally meet in a great display of... ...uh... I need to be alone now! Once again this is a collaborative story by two authors. It has less yiff in it than usual, but don't worry, we'll make up for it in the next installment! We got a bit of positive feedback on the first two stories, which was nice. No, we don't get a million emails from drooling groupies, so feel free to drop us a line if you have any feedback/ideas/requests/whatever.
- * * More Than Brothers - Loose Ends By [email protected] & [email protected] It was early evening in the lair and Splinter had retreated to his meditation room. The daily practices were over for the day, leaving his sons to their own devices. Michelangelo was watching TV up along the wall as he lounged on the couch. Donatello as usual could be found in his lab, assembling a computer on his work table. Or he could have been disassembling it, never can tell. Raphael was to be found in the kitchen, relaxing at the table as he munched the leftovers of a chocolate banana pizza, which Michelangelo had been saving for a midnight snack, but Raphael could care less. The eldest of the four brothers, Leonardo, moved through the lair toward the dojo. He slid the rice paper door aside and stepped inside the room, pausing on the mats to turn and face the incense that was lit around the shrine at the far side of the room. He started his warm-up, first stretching out various joints and muscles before he started kicking and punching at one of the bags in the corner, lightly at first to warm up his muscles. Leonardo tried out various kicks, starting with lower ones before rising up and tapping the bag a bit harder. He changed feet with each kick as well, to get a more even exercise. Raphael finished the pizza, tossing the box into the garbage as he gave a languid stretch. He sighed with an edge of frustration and sat back down into his seat hard; the memory of Leonardo and himself on the rooftop troubled him still. He grumbled and crossed his arms across the table top as he leaned forward and bowed his head down a bit, eyes closing. His body shuddered as he felt the emotions that simply refused to go away race through his body. It had been several days now, days of nothing, no hints, no talk, no signs at all from his older brother. A part of him feared that Leonardo hated him for what happened on the rooftop. The least the other turtle could do was give him a smile, even that would be a sign that Leonardo was not angry with him. He needed to talk to someone about this, but who could he go to? He did not think his brothers would understand. And what of Splinter? Their Sensei had never even discussed these emotions with them, and lord knew he told them what to think about everything else. Raphael somehow had a hard time believing he would have left it to his sons to discover this on their own. A part of his mind thought about sneaking out and asking his best friend, Casey, but another countered with the question of what would the human think of him having feelings for his own brother? He had certainly seen the human opinions and conflicts on this subject in the news, so that idea quickly got pushed to the back of his mind. Raphael sighed and got up from the table again, looking out toward the main chamber where his eyes caught sight of the cause of his current torment just as his older brother disappeared through the door of the dojo. Raphael looked around the kitchen before he stepped out the door and walked into the main chamber, deciding to get in some exercise before he went to bed. Leonardo or no Leonardo, he was going for a work out. The blue-masked turtle was already hard at work when his younger brother stepped into the dojo. Raphael eyed their shrine for a moment before he bowed respectfully to it and then started his own katas. He worked his way across the room, ending the warm-up by finally swinging around and striking one of the hanging weight bags with a roundhouse kick, followed by a quick fist to the center. The bag gave slightly under the pummeling as it swung on its chain from the ceiling. Raphael narrowed his eyes and started to really beat it as if picturing some enemy in place of the bag. Even though that was the way he was, always warming up aggressively, it still earned him a glance from Leonardo. The elder turtle sighed inwardly at his younger sibling. Well, at least he was letting out that pointless anger on inanimate objects and not his brothers, that was progress. Leonardo moved over to the wooden mannequin enemies at the other side of the room and stood up on one leg in front of one. He closed his eyes and relaxed his body, breathing sloooowly and calming his heart rate. He tried to block out the huffs and grunts from Raphael punching the bag and the metallic grinding of the chain as it moved back and forth. He was usually good at clearing his mind of all distractions, but the one thing that would not leave the back of his consciousness was the memory of the events a few nights ago. The feel of the kiss, the sharing of a different intimacy then he had yet to share with his other two brothers. The kiss was the first he had ever gotten, after all it was not as if he had a lot of choices to get experience in the area. Whenever he thought about it, some parts of him were still shocked and almost appalled over just who it was that he had shared that kiss with. However he twisted and turned it, he certainly never expected it to be the one person on the planet whom he most often did not get along with. That was possibly also a large part of his aversion to the idea of it now that the perspective of a few days and more meditation on the subject had been added. It was largely the same inner turmoil that kept Raphael here in the one place where his mind could fill with pointless anger instead of actual thoughts. Training and beating a bag of sand was good when he had too much on his mind, too much to think about. After all these days of fruitless waiting for Leonardo to make just *some* advance or initiative to follow up on that night on the rooftop, he had once again raised the defenses that had dropped that fateful night. He had gone into the denial phase, trying to put it behind him, trying to forget it had happened, trying to ignore that icky feeling of vulnerability that he had experienced first-hand; but the feelings refused to go away. Regardless of his denial, the ache for just a brief moment of that same pleasure to fill him again relentlessly remained even if he was now determined not to give in to it again. His concentration went to the bag in front of him and he saw Leonardo's face on it for a split second. A final hard kick left it swaying back and forth, and Raphael stared into the distance, images from that night, and the feeling of his older brother's body pressed hard against his own kept distracting him as he was trying to keep down the frustration. He was not used to this, not used to feelings beyond anger, or at least anger-related, and it caused much confusion within himself. "Graah!" He whirled suddenly and lashed out at the other bag behind him, standing there tense for a moment after the outburst, which came from barely contained annoyance at the whole world. This was not working. He took a deep breath and crossed the room to one of the open areas opposite of where Leonardo was working out. Leonardo waited and waited, still on one foot. His silent, immobile balance was an accurate reflection of his thoughts. He too was trying to clear his mind and will the memory away, or at the very least suppress it so he could concentrate on his training again. The rooftop incident had died out for a while; it was easy to forget when he was around the others, but every night since that eventful one and every meditation he had engaged in since, all just made it bubble up again. It came back in the quiet moments. It would certainly have helped to get the lid off all these weird emotions and deal with them out in the open, but first of all he was not sure if Raphael even thought that much of it anymore, he certainly had not gone out of his way to recognize Leonardo ever since. Secondly he knew how Raphael got when he was presented with something he did not know how to handle; and Leonardo was really not in the mood for any of his brother's outbreaks right now. He had been waiting for his thunderous, pushy brother to make the first move, but the days had just flown by and now - several days later - it was just too embarrassing to bring up again, in case Raphael had forgotten all about it. Or worse, did not feel the same way. So there he balanced, not ready to decide where to fall to or if to fall at all. The thought that kept nagging at him most was that if he had just dealt with this whole thing a few days ago then it would never have gotten this awkward, but now it was too late and the only way to fix it was for Raphael to come forward first. At least in his mind. In the midst of indecision, Raphael had halted his movements to look at his older brother, subconsciously letting his eyes roam over the still and flexing form. He started wondering what the heck was going on with all the standing around doing nothing, then remembered Leonardo and his obsession with boring positions. The younger turtle caught himself staring and he quickly looked away, mentally cursing himself at even lending the slightest bit of interest at his back-stabbing brother. Raphael drew a sai, flipping it so the handle rather then the blades pointed out from between his fingers and started on an offensive kata; the hard punching had not helped his mood any, and somewhere in his mind he knew this would not either. He did go out of his way to pointedly ignore Leonardo, but the more he thought of dismissing him, the more his eyes were drawn to the object of his spite. It was difficult for his mind to completely disregard the graceful body not far away. Damn these feelings to hell; he was determined to stay and finish his workout. Neither of the two turtles could get themselves to talk to each other, but at least they could stick around and hope to make each other uncomfortable. Once there was silence from the areas behind him, Leonardo managed to push all his feelings aside for just a moment, which was enough to launch him into combat mode. He crouched down - still on one leg with eyes clenched shut - and launched himself into a flying leap over the middle one of three 6 feet tall wooden practice figures in front of him. His swords unsheathed in an instant and with a fluid movement he chopped the heads off the two figures on the sides, ending the move by crossing his swords so he could 'scissor' off the head of the middle figure just as he cleared the top of it. He landed perfectly on the same foot on the other side and then opened his eyes again. Yep, that move was ready to be shown to Splinter now. Raphael could not help but pause his own exercise to catch the maneuver, watching the dummies be beheaded in sequence, their straw-filled heads falling to the floor with soft thumps. He rolled his eyes thinking "show off", before he resumed his own series of rote movements from where he had left off. His leg swept out low to topple an invisible opponent who then leaped back to his feet and attacked, forcing the sai-wielding turtle to lock imaginary blades with him. A swift kick to the stomach sent the enemy flying and Raphael spun around, drew the other sai, flipped them both around in his fingers and flung them like throwing knives at a part of the wall that was padded for that purpose. One hit the soft material with a *thunk* and bore itself into the wall while its twin missed the mark and clanged off the bricks next to the padding. Raphael made a cartwheel right up to the wall and landed a full-force kick against the soft part, using his momentum. With a grunt he grabbed the handle of the embedded weapon and pulled it out of the wall. In his mind the defeated enemy slumped to the floor unconsciously from where he had been impaled by the sai. Snatching up his fallen weapon, Raphael scowled at it. It was supposed to have hit the red mark on the bag like its twin, but he was certain those infernal emotions had distracted him at the last moment, throwing off his aim. He gave a growl and hurled it across the room, planting it deep into the sandbag he had been pounding on earlier. A small stream of dark yellow started to seep out. Yes, the anger had its advantages even if it could drive him to make mistakes. The turtle had his aim and his skill, but it was the dark, angry side of him more than anything that gave him the strength he needed to bring down the enemy. Meanwhile, Leonardo practiced his own attacks. He had resheathed his swords and was working on unarmed combat now. Leg sweeps followed by heel-kicks to the fallen opponents mostly. Just the basics, even if he did try to weave in some of the stuff Michelangelo had shown him - some maneuvers to use when you were fighting on the back of your shell. Leonardo normally did not do this sort of thing, but Splinter had said to use one's environment and natural skills, so... Leonardo kept having to do the moves again and again, mostly because he kept losing his concentration at looking over at Raphael when his brother did not notice. It quickly turned into a strange mixture of full-blown combat concentration and then a few seconds of staring, and then combat again. Like a flickering movie off the reel. This was not really going anywhere right now, so in an attempt to do something else that he knew so well he could do in his sleep, Leonardo threw a few punches and then leaped over invisible kicks. He somersaulted through the air, drawing both swords and slicing them around himself rapidly in a motion so fast that it looked like he was fortunate not to lose an arm. The cuts went around him in almost an entire circle from head-height to knee-height before he landed on his feet again. He then flipped backwards and slashed through the empty air one more time, landing perfectly again. It was a sort of show-stopper that was intended to give him a wide radius of any attackers so he could reassert his situation. It was fortunate to strike anyone, but the main idea was to look wildly dangerous and unapproachable. Leonardo looked back at the red-masked turtle again and immediately got a flashback from the rooftop, which made him sigh. Those images all dissolved into nothing when he was fighting, his training made him concentrate 100% on his mind and body movements and that of his enemies'. He understood why his hot headed brother chose the mindless anger sometimes. It blocked out everything else very effectively, including emotions and memories you were trying to forget. Leonardo's way was not anger, but quiet desperation at the loss of control over his every thought. He felt undisciplined. They both avoided each other's gaze so the other would not notice that they were looking every once in a while, somehow still harboring a small hope that the other would do something. Anything. Once again focusing, Leonardo flipped around into a one-hand-stand and launched himself in the air with a high kick to a very tall opponent, probably Hun-sized. The move ended with him on his shell and a spinning leg sweep just like Michelangelo showed him. The blue turtle stood up again afterwards and looked thoughtful. He did not like that move much, it was too risky. Turtles were way too vulnerable on their backs and he did not have much control over the spinning at all. Then again, he did not have the hundreds of hours of experience break-dancing on his shell like Michelangelo had. Raphael turned to watch the moves for a moment, raising an eyeridge at seeing one of Michelangelo's trademarked shellspins. That was a new one. He shook his head and turned his gaze away, narrowing his eyes at an enemy; and then he charged forward, striking the single invisible enemy with a spinning kick that ended up near Leonardo who was all over the place by now, trying to get that shell-thing to work. The way Raphael suddenly moved within his brother's combat circle might have seemed like a sneak attack, but he jumped high in the air with another kick and landed in a squat, one hand on the floor as he stared down another imaginary challenger. Despite his temper and his mood swings even the hot-head had grace in his form like his brothers, he just did not show it as often. Raphael was unaware for the moment that he was being watched by his older brother, yet he had deliberately moved this close just to get some attention. Even if the moment was only brief, Leonardo got a good look at his brother's flexing form as he landed and his belly knotted unexpectedly. He doubted that Raphael was truly trying to work out with him; hell, the two had barely acknowledged each other the entire time they were in here, except for the occasional avoided glance. Leonardo stared at him with what he hoped was a casual expression and not a curious one, before his eyes moved away, feeling that shiver of delight again that he had felt before on the rooftop. Just the mere presence of Raphael this close had changed everything. He heard that little voice in the back of his head yelling this still was not right. How were you supposed to repair something that was not broken, and did not look like it was worth saving, but that you simply could not stop yearning for? All thoughts were interrupted by Splinter calling for bed in the main room. Well, actually he was just announcing his own retirement to his room for the night. He had given up trying to get his sons to go to bed at a proper time long ago. As sudden as he had arrived, Raphael rolled away as if avoiding a strike and jumped to his feet, taking out the final opponent, thus ending the kata. He turned towards the door of the room and rubbed his eyes for a moment. Where had the time gone? The red turtle glanced at Leonardo for a moment and their eyes locked onto each other, possibly for the first time since the kiss on the rooftop. Their eyes reflected just about the same emotions, the same feelings, and definitely the same unease. A silent question passed between them, but neither looked to be answering it at the time, afraid for the moment to answer, afraid to find out if the other did not feel the same. The younger turtle averted his gaze before it became too uncomfortable, leaving the answer for mystery to veil and consume once more. Yet it gave new life to the seed of doubt already planted in his mind, making goosebumps appear on his arms. Perhaps deep down the feelings toward his older brother were true and right, but that had become less the issue over the past days. He gave a quick nod to the other turtle, immediately regretting it and made his way towards the door. "Hey Raph, wait up." Leonardo called to his brother after he had resheathed his katanas and he moved over to the red banded turtle, mostly expecting him to keep going, but instead Raphael turned his head back to him. The sudden acknowledgment of his existence made Leonardo do a double take and a shiver ran down his spine, which apparently dragged everything he had prepared to say down with it. "We need to talk." Leonardo scrambled for just a *part* of the eloquent speech of reconciliation he had gone over in his mind countless times in the last days, but he drew a complete blank. It had been so obvious to explain. The misunderstanding, the clearing up, the laughing and then forgiveness of all grievances. Yet the leader found he could not willingly bring himself into such an emotionally vulnerable position in front of his friend, brother and fiercest adversary on the home front. The stakes were too high. Raphael stood still for a moment, giving the befuddled turtle a few seconds before he just glared at him. He was almost mad at Leonardo for actually trying to make up for the whole thing. Who did he think he was? Nearly a whole week without so much as a smile in his direction and *NOW* he wanted to talk? Another thought struck him just then. Maybe Leonardo did not even want to talk about.. that. Surely if that was the issue, he would have said it by now instead of standing there, right? After all, he had had several days to think things over. No, if anything was coming now, it was some lesson cleverly constructed to make Raphael feel bad and get him to do what Leonardo wanted. This only enraged Raphael further and he promptly decided he was much better off spending the next hour in his bed rather than here. "Fuck off Leo, I'm not in the mood for one of your 'talks'." He responded and pushed the turtle out of his way before storming from the dojo. Steaming through the main room, he passed the kitchen just in time to hear Michelangelo complain about his precious pizza having vanished under mysterious circumstances. Raphael just grumbled and continued up to his room, roughly pulling the ragged curtain over his doorway while he wished for some sort of massive oak door he could slam so hard it would be heard miles away. Leonardo sighed at his retreating brother and waited till he was gone before stepping out to close off the dojo for the night. No point in pursuing this any further. The bed-procedure was a bit out of order tonight. Leonardo was usually the first one to go to bed, then Michelangelo unless he got into an argument with Raphael on the way and the two of them had to rough it out for a bit, and Donatello was always the last since he was perpetually in the middle of something important that could not wait until tomorrow. Leonardo walked his round, going into the kitchen and various other rooms to turn off the lights; he then lit a few of the tall candelabras near the pillars on the main floor so that a little bit of light would be available for anyone having to go downstairs in the middle of the night. The turtle made his way to the second level of the lair and pulled the somewhat tattered curtains over his doorway to seal off the room for the night. He had a low Japanese-style bed, unlike Michelangelo and Raphael who slept in hammocks in their rooms. Leonardo lit a small incense candle on the small table next to his mattress and settled in with a good book about ancient Asian history to get his mind off things. Even Michelangelo went to bed at some point about a half hour later and Donatello was the last one to turn off the electric lights in the main room, but he did leave the candles burning dimly. A blanket of calm fell over all, leaving each of them to their own thoughts ? or dreams, mostly. The whole lair fell silent save for the usual snoring, dripping from pipes, gusts of wind from the vents and pipes, and scratching from critters in the sewer. Leonardo blinked himself awake and did that sudden search for whoever grunted just before he woke up, until he realized that it was himself. He yawned widely and removed the book that had fallen flat on his chest when he had dozed off, putting the weaved bookmark into it and setting it aside on the pile next to him. He then leaned over and cupped a hand behind the candled before blowing it out. After having scooted down in a comfortable position with the blanket over him and waiting for sleep to take him again, his sense of hearing distracted him when he became aware of the sound of a new kind of scratching. He and his brothers were used to the sounds of rats running around, their feet tapping the floor as they skittered across it, but this was different. Unless of course a new kind of rodent has invaded the lair. It had happened before. Regardless, it ultimately meant that it would keep him up all night because it was not a noise that was supposed to be there and it would wake him up every ten minutes. With a deep sigh he tossed the blanket aside and got up from his bed to investigate, carrying little hope that it was something he could actually do something about, but you never know. Additionally, he could not shake the suspicion that it was Raphael taking the chance to sneak out of the lair again at night. The curtains were pulled aside and he stepped out onto the second level of the lair, squinting his eyes as he looked down towards the sewer exit and then the elevator. The entire lair was dark, save for the few candles down on the floor, but their flickering light did allow him to survey the area. Nothing. His ears picked up a familiar snoring from his hot-headed brother's doorway, a noise that managed to escape the room despite the closed drapes. Hmm. False alarm. Then where *did* that sound come from? His attention turned to the other doorways and he raised an eye ridge as the sound got louder when he approached that of his youngest brother. He silently slipped up to the clothed barrier hanging over Michelangelo's door and pulled it back just enough to look inside. The candle light at the bottom of the lair offered little help for Leonardo to look inside the dark room. The dimness, however, also made sure that his shadow was not cast as visibly underneath the curtain so that Michelangelo could easily notice him there. Shadows hide well in the dark. His eyes adjusted for a few moments to the darkness inside Michelangelo's room, but the 'scratching' sound which had now turned into a muted huffing already clued him in on what was going on before he could see it clearly. Michelangelo was stretched out in his hammock on his back, his legs dangling over either side of it, nearly touching the floor. He was completely naked... his bandanna and leather protectors, including his belt and weapons lay in a pile next to the night table. The most interesting part about the scene, however, was the laid back Michelangelo with his head raised up and breathing hard while his three fingers curled firmly around his stiff cock, busy jerking himself off, obviously not expecting to have anyone look in at this hour. Leonardo caught his breath as he picked up on what was going on, feeling a bit of surprised pressure in his own shell at the sight. He never thought he would catch his younger brother like this. It was almost too good. His thoughts of Raphael and their conflicts just vanished instantly, this was a much better opportunity to try to silence those urges he had other than crawl back to his hot-headed brother. Silently he moved into the room, trying not to draw any attention to himself. One of his hands held on to the outermost metallic ring that held up the curtain so that it would not move and make a squeaking noise over the pole, and he tried to duck down as far as he could to slip between the cloth and the doorway. It was a good thing he had left his belt and weapons in his own room. The blue-masked turtle was probably being way too cautious, his chances of being discovered were minimal at this point with his younger brother busily at work like this. It did seem like he was enjoying it immensely. Michelangelo's fist clenched a little harder and he gave a buck of his hips, breathing out a silent huff of hot air. Every once in a while he would pant a little louder and then slow down again. The act itself was not too unusual, and the predominant sound in the room was that of quiet sliding of flesh over flesh between the turtle's legs. Michelangelo licked his lips a moment and gave a little grunt before sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth. Watching his brother like this, Leonardo could not help but move closer to him; he felt bolder and not as unsure as he had been that first night with Donatello. The dark shadow stood over the younger turtle for a few moments and then knelt down next to him, the heat of Leonardo's body and the sound of his breath finally enough to make Michelangelo aware that someone was right next to him. The orange turtle shot his eyes open and made a girly *squeal*, his sudden movement nearly sending him flailing to the floor as the hammock tilted dangerously, but he did manage to grab a hold of both sides of it and regain his balance before it flipped over completely. He ended up staring straight into the face of his oldest brother, a chilling sense of fear paralyzing him. "Leo! I..I was..." He stammered as he tried to explain away his situation, trying to make up an excuse as he normally did, eyes wide as saucer plates at having been caught in the act. "It's not what it looks like!" The excuse came slower than usual since Michelangelo's brain was also working on figuring out who it was and where it was. Apparently it had already forgotten about the long green shaft that still rose up between his legs and hung over his lower plastron, the tip glistening with a bit of precum. "Really, Mikey? You mean you're not beating off?" It was difficult what to make of Leonardo's smug grin. He had all the time in the world to watch his brother squirm in discomfort, and the hand he put down on Michelangelo's chestplate apparently did not do much to soothe him, or to betray Leonardo's own intentions. "Uhhhh..." The other turtle drawled and felt the adrenaline pumping through his body in response to the long, awkward moment where he was apparently supposed to come up with some kind of explanation. Michelangelo looked quite panicked at first and was not sure what to do. He detected no teasing or any indication of disapproving with this, which confused him a great deal. Leonardo decided to make it easy on him, however, and ended every thought he might have been trying to form by grabbing his rough hand around Michelangelo's jutting erection. The teenturtle's mind automatically fell back to the one track it had been in at the beginning of all this, and he could not help but give his older brother one of his goofy grins. Despite his shock and embarrassment at being caught like this at night, his mind had a hard time just shifting away, especially following the pleasurable sensations Leonardo's hand gave him. A soft moan escaped his throat as he felt the tight wrap around him and any other words the young turtle may have wanted to express were lost in his throat as the sensation of being jerked off by his older brother fogged his mind completely. The continued strokes that had been interrupted moments before made his arousal blaze up fully again and caused him to squirt a bit more clear precum over the firm fingers around him. Michelangelo leaned back in the hammock with another hushed moan and spread his legs out wider for Leonardo's capable hands, his hips tensing their muscles up as that spine-tingling sensation dispersed throughout his body. He could not have imagined how different and how much better it would be to feel his brother stroke him off instead of his own hand. His eyes rolled back and he makes little whimpering sounds, indicating how close he was. Leonardo shifted as he tried to get into a better position, finding it difficult with the odd shaping of the hammock, but he managed to make it work. He sped up his ministrations as he felt Michelangelo getting closer and he hoped the other turtle was enough at his senses to keep it muffled for the sake of not waking up everyone else who were supposedly sound asleep in the nearby rooms. The other hand slipped down to squeeze his brother's hairless sack in encouragement, while the first one on his dick pumped even harder, determined to bring him over. Michelangelo closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as he did his very best to keep silent. Leonardo felt a jerk in his hand followed by a warm glob that landed on top of his fingers and from then on it just sped up. The next releases grew more and more powerful and an increasing volume of thick, white turtlecum spurted up Michelangelo's chest plate and belly, painting it with long, white streaks as he just kept cumming hard in his brother's hand. The sensation of being jerked off by his brother made his spine contract and force out more loads from his balls than he normally would, the leathery green orbs brushing against Leonardo's hand each time they twitched and shot out another sticky splatter. Leonardo squeezed the stiff dick in his hand the moment he felt the climax start and he leaned back a bit to balance himself while looking up to watch his brother's spray with slight fascination, pleased that he could make him feel this good. His hand worked to milk him of all he could get and there was a definite thrill there, one he never imagined. Then again, this night was turning out to be something he had never imagined either, much less with his youngest brother, so he savored the moment. The younger turtle lay groaning softly as he tapered off, his tongue hanging out the side of his beak and he just stared at Leonardo with this immensely blissful expression that his brother rarely saw before. Save perhaps for when he pulled off a good prank against one of them, or beat a difficult level of one of his video games, but that was just the satisfaction in his eyes, not the serene look. He did not even care about the mess he made of himself, or about pretty much anything at the moment. When the stroking of the hand slowed down, Michelangelo took the chance to try and catch his breath, panting fast to get air back into his lungs to make up for the lack of energy. The warm glob trickled down the side of Leonardo's fingers and ended up dripping down on Michelangelo's groin again. He was still stiff and pumping in the clasping hand, even if he had been milked dry already. Another groan signaled his utter relaxation and he stretched out a bit before succumbing to the afterglow. Leonardo let Michelangelo unwind. He found his own breathing to be a bit heavy as well, but there was no demands for anything else; there was nothing in his mind except just two of them and what they just shared. Leonardo eventually pulled his hand back from the slowly softening turtlecock and let it shrink back down, but he did not really want to let go because that meant facing the world again and letting the comforting small bubble of fantasy erupt. He glanced down to his sticky hand and then to the streaks on Michelangelo's plastron, and he could not help but grin at it. Leonardo just realized he had come full circle now with all his brothers and that just made him grin even wider while he wiped his hand clean on Michelangelo's thigh. The younger turtle finally managed to get enough air back into his lungs for him to start forming words of appreciation. "Leo, that was... amazing.." He watched him and his hand closely, still too out of breath to say much, but his expression showed it all. "Agreed, it was." Leonardo responded back with a smile and a lower voice, and had to face the fact that despite his own awakening excitement, if anything more was done in here the two of them would likely get caught in the act by someone else. Especially with Michelangelo who did not exactly have a track record of keeping his voice down under any circumstances. It would all just add up to a disaster. "I should get back to my room, and let you clean up." Leonardo whispered and warily got his legs under him to stand up. It earned him a tired nod from his brother who seemed most of all happy that he did not have to return the favor right away. Leonardo straightened up and turned to walk back out the way he came, pausing briefly before he exited as quiet as he had entered with the self-satisfied knowledge that his brother owed him one. Michelangelo watched him leave, silently, though there was a content smile on his face. He exhaled deeply once his brother was gone, as if he had held his breath throughout the entire ordeal, and he just fell back in the hammock with a pleasantly numb and exhausted feeling throughout his body. The blanket was pulled up over himself and he closed his eyes, his head swimming with thoughts that convinced him he would never be able to fall asleep. A moment later Michelangelo was snoring away peacefully.