Author's Notes: As ever, I do not own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or any of their companions
You do not need to have kept up with Bound to understand these, but if you're curious how this pair came to be, I'd suggest reading it. All sketches will follow the established storyline, but are peripheral to the main events.
This is the first of several scenes I've been writing purely as a self-indulgence whenever I need a break from the emotionally heavy content of Bound, but I was rather happy with the way this one came out and thought others might enjoy it as well. :)
The following ficlet contains non-explicit adult themes, and takes place approximately one week before the beginning of Bound.
Prior to arriving at her apartment that night, there was nothing that would have lead Raphael to suspect it would be the night.
The moment he stepped through the window and she met his eyes, though, he felt it as surely as he would have felt a presence behind him: a prickle across his flesh, a whisper in his heart… a tremor in his pulse. Maybe April hadn't known it until that moment, either—but when she looked at him with such burning intensity, green flames flickering in her eyes like the hottest part of a fire, he instinctively recognized the look for what it was. Later, when she took his hand and led him to the bedroom, there was a firmness to her grip that confirmed it wasn't just a possibility, but a certainty.
Numbly, he followed her. When the door closed behind them, awareness settled in.
This is it. This is happening now
They had kissed a lot, of course, and they had petted a little, but only tentatively so far. Even that had made him a little nervous, though he had striven to hide it. At such times he couldn't stop himself from thinking ahead to other things, and even though he realized she might have guessed, he didn't like the thought of revealing how little experience he actually had—that is to say, zero. But each touch had burned through him like a shot of whiskey, scorching his stomach and spreading through his entire body like tendrils of liquid fire. Now, the moment he'd been both longing for and dreading was imminent—and somehow all he could think of was that he shouldn't have gone for that last slice of pizza.
She stood before him, eyes gleaming intensely, and pulled her shirt over her head.
His mouth went completely dry.
Eyes still fixed on him, she unbuttoned her jeans.
Butterflies tap-danced in his stomach.
Wait, I've had this dream before… Any moment I'll wake up…
But when she slid her pants down, he knew it was real—if this had been a dream, her clothing would have simply fallen away, pooling around her on the floor like water around a melting ice cube. Instead, after she pushed her jeans down, one of her ankles got hooked when she tried to step out of the legging, and she had to perform an awkward little shake to free it.
Nope. That never happened in dreams… or movies. This was definitely real.
He stood frozen, taking in the sight of her slender form, milk-white skin almost glowing in the dim light, and tried to remember how to breathe. She left her undergarments on—practical, mismatched, certainly not chosen with seduction in mind—and stood looking at him, hair falling loose around her shoulders. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
His heart hammered beneath his plastron, and he tried to swallow without success. Was she expecting him to do something? He should, he should do something; he should go to her, kiss her, carry her to the bed… anything but continue to stand there looking like a moron!
Just do it—it can't be that tough. Just cuz I ain't actually done it before…
But see, the thing was, she had done it before. And if he did something wrong, she would know.
Who cares, just go to her!
Instead he just stood there like an idiot. Like a boy. Worse, a petrified boy.
Then she walked slowly to him, stopping only when she was as near as she could get without actually touching him. She stood close, her arms down at her sides, and shut her eyes. Inhaling deeply, she opened her eyes again and brought her hands up to his stomach region, placing her palms flat against his plastron.
He was starting to feel light headed. He could smell her… residual odors of shampoo and the mild, fresh scent of the soap she used, but on top of that another smell—one he'd caught hints of before that always made him feel slightly intoxicated. But it had never been this strong, this overwhelming.
Slowly, her hands began to glide up his front, and his knees almost buckled. She stopped at the top of his plastron, and leaned in against him. Then she looked into his eyes.
He managed to swallow, and grew so warm he felt himself break out in a sweat. Perfect. She's not gonna be able to keep her hands off ya now, said his inner sarcastic voice.
Christ, he was nervous. How did people in movies make this look so easy? Here was this gorgeous woman—correction, this gorgeous, practically naked woman—pressed right up against him, and so far all he'd been able to manage was to remain standing. Barely. At this rate, he wasn't going to be able to perform, anyway. Maybe he should just get out of there before he embarrassed himself any further.
Except…god how he wanted her.
She reached with one hand to touch his face, gently brushing his cheek with her knuckles…
And he felt her fingers trembling.
Trembling? Was she cold? It felt absolutely sweltering in the room to him. He studied her face curiously, and saw…was it possible?
Without thinking, he reached up and took her hand, holding it between his own and studying it in disbelief. Tremors.
He met her eyes again, and this time she smiled tentatively—just a flicker. And she swallowed hard. He could feel the heat radiating from her.
She's nervous, too, he thought in wonder. I'm a turtle—she doesn't really know what to expect with me any more than I do with her.
All of the sudden his knotted stomach came untied, and his apprehension slipped away.
Finally, he found he could move again—and he decided this wasn't going to be so difficult after all.
A/N: I know I talked enough at the beginning, but I just had to add a comment here. This scene came to mind after encountering several stories in which Raph was portrayed as sexually experienced, cocky, and completely confident in romantic situations. NEWS FLASH: The guy's a mutant turtle with very little close contact with anyone outside his immediate family! How confident would YOU be?
Reviews are always welcome. :D