Losing All Control


Summary: There were many things that his brother did that drove Raphael crazy. One of them, definitely, had to be that stupid smirk of his: that sly, confident, sexy, pain-in-the-ass, know-it-all smirk that never failed to—wait, what? Sexy? … Oh shell. Raph/Leo Tcest



Leonardo x Raphael Slash/Turtlecest

Mature language and sexual situations (nothing graphic)

And the obligatory turtle fluff.


"Mikey! With Don!"

"Don't let him get away!"

"Raph, watch my back!"

"Hey! Be careful with your sais, Raph!"

"Don't stab me!"

"Not that way!"

"You did it again!"

"I said to follow me!"


"God damn it, Raph, you're not even trying!"

With an enraged, almost maniacal battle-cry, Raphael leapt into the air and slammed his foot with all the force of a falling meteorite on the unsuspecting face of a Foot ninja. He felt a little satisfied when he heard some bones crack beneath the heel of his foot, but the positive feeling was drowned by the mounting frustration that stormed in his brain for one particular mutated turtle.

"ENOUGH ALREADY!" Raphael screamed, turning around just in time to witness Leonardo strike down the last Foot ninja with all the grace of a swan and all the precision of a deadly snake. "Man, what is your problem tonight?"

Leonardo, after a brief surveillance to check whether there were any more immediate threats and finding none, bent down and wiped the blood from his katana blades on the black robes of a fallen ninja by his feet. "I have no idea what you're talking about," the blue-clad ninja griped. He tossed an irritated glance at his younger brother. "I wasn't the one repeatedly stabbing his brother with his sais."

Raphael sheathed his weapons at the same time Leonardo did. "Hey, I tried to stop, but you kept getting in my way! How is that my fault?"

"You tried to stop? You tried? You stabbed me, like, five times!"

"Oh, trust me, Leo—if I really wanted to take a stab at you, I wouldn't have needed those five tries."

Leonardo stood up straighter and crossed his arms. They were, as always, cloaked in the shadows of the night, but Raphael and Leonardo could see each other perfectly by the pale lights from the waning moon and the weary streetlights lined up along the roads. The Fearless Leader frowned slightly as he stared at Raphael, his eyes serious and his lips thinning.

In response, Raphael glared—what the hell did this guy think he was doing, scrutinising him like that as if he were some kind of psychological patient he needed to figure out? He outta smack that look right off of him! "What?"

The Fearless Leader blinked his eyes slowly and shook his head. He still had that look about him that successfully boiled Raphael's blood like nobody's business. "It's just… you've been acting really weird lately."

"What are you talking about? I've always been this way," he snarled.

"No. Lately you've been really aggressive—more aggressive than usual, anyway."

"Aggressive!" Raphael snapped. He withdrew one of his sais again and advanced the elder turtle threateningly, jabbing his weapon near the blue-clad turtle's face. In the back of his mind, he knew he wasn't exactly rebuking Leonardo's statement, but to hell with that. "I'll show you aggressive! Why do you always have to be on my case, Leo?"

Leonardo gave him a tsk and smoothly pushed the sai away from his face with a finger. He returned Raphael's glare with a fierce look. "That's enough. Let's go find Mike and Don." Then, without even waiting for Raphael's nod, he turned and started walking away, stepping over the unconscious ninja bodies with large, strong strides.

Raphael stood there stupefied for a moment before he sheathed his weapon into his belt with a snort. He knew he was acting strangely—he knew that Leonardo was right to worry about him—but what he hated more was the fact that his older brother had actually noticed his change of behaviour. Raphael didn't know why he was acting this way either—during the fight, he just couldn't take his eyes off his older brother and that resulted in a lack of focus and a violent increase of frustration. Raphael figured it was only fair that Leonardo take the brunt of this frustration, since it seemed to be entirely his fault anyway.

Why did he have to be so calm and smug all the time? Even now, as Raphael watched him walk away from a fight he was trying to provoke, he couldn't help but be irritated. The fact that Leonardo had turned his head slightly to cast him a suspicious glance only served to irate the red-clad turtle even more. Raphael sneered back and begrudgingly followed the steps of his elder brother, kicking a groaning Foot ninja in the stomach on the way for being too damn noisy for an unconscious person.


Raphael was extremely thankful for hand-to-hand combat sparring—one, because he could be as aggressive as he wanted to be (it was encouraged, actually—"Ferocity is your friend in battle," a wise rat said, "for it strikes fear into the enemy even before the first punch is thrown."), and two, because that gave him an excuse to pound a particular brother to the ground relentlessly without fearing the consequences.

You only went too far in a sparring match if you drew blood or broke a bone, and Raphael knew that Leonardo would never let it get to such a point, leaving him free to be as violent-happy as he wanted to be.

Even though his older brother got under his skin even deeper than even Michelangelo could on April Fools Day, Raphael had to admit that Leonardo was the best sparring partner. His other brothers were good, definitely, and they've definitely had their moments, but Leonardo was constantly good, constantly at his peak and constantly excelling, and there wasn't anything else that gave Raphael so much euphoria as when he managed to beat him down onto the ground.

And nothing made his heart pump as fast or made his blood boil as hotly as when Leonardo had him trapped and locked on the floor.

Which was, unsurprisingly, the case at that moment.

"Get off of me."

Leonardo gave him a smirk—flashing slightly pointed teeth. His eyes gleamed with victory and a certain mischievousness that had Raphael narrowing his eyes dangerously in return. "Oh, okay, as your hypothetical enemy, I will definitely get off of you before dealing the finishing blow—you asked so nicely, after all."

Raphael sneered from beneath him and tried to get out of his hold. But it wasn't easy—Leonardo had his arm locked behind his shell in a mean grip and when Raphael tried to escape or counter, the other would only bend his wrist upwards and Raphael would be this close to howling in pain—or yelling obscenities that Splinter would not have cared for.

On his knees and using his free forearm to keep even slightly elevated from the ground, Raphael panted. He could feel Leonardo's weight on his back, could feel his plastron pressed firmly against his shell, and he could feel Leonardo's calm, even breaths on his sweaty skin and God damn it Raphael shouldn't have turned his head around to look at him because that smirk was still dancing on his face and his eyes were still twinkling, saying "You're completely under my control", only reinforced with the fact that his grip was relentless and it was making his blood boil and his skin to flush and he wanted to shove him away from him so hard and pound that sexy smirk off his face like a crazy person—

"I swear, Leo, if you don't lay off within the next three seconds, I will—"

Leonardo rolled his eyes. "Come on, Raph, you know that's not how it works. Either get out of this hold on your own or…"—his smirk stretched just a bit further, showing more pointed teeth—"concede your defeat."

'In your fucking dreams.'

Verbally, he snapped, "You can go ahead and shove that idea right up your ass!" Enraged, Raphael struggled violently beneath his older brother, ignoring the pain in his arm and taking advantage of the fact that Leonardo wouldn't put enough pressure on it to break. He almost managed to shake the blue-clad turtle off if Leonardo hadn't wrapped his other arm around his neck in another vicious lock and pressed him down with more of his weight. Fuck.

"Well, if you're that strongly against it, then I guess your only option is to get free on your own then," Leonardo grunted—grunted!—in his ear and the sound made Raphael squeeze his eyes tightly shut.

"Leo," he growled lowly.

"It's fine. I'm comfortable here, you know? I can wait." And then, not only did he say that with that insufferably smug tone of his, but he finished it with an exasperated sigh—a sigh that let his warm breath tickle his skin, a breath Raphael could feel so very surely against his neck, brushing against his throat, and Raphael had to bite back some sort of strangled sound that wanted to escape from his mouth.

No way in hell.

"Leonardo, that's enough." There was a solid sound of wood striking cement and, as if it was some sort of trigger, the weight immediately disappeared from Raphael's back as Leonardo stood. But, at the same time, the moment Raphael felt the weight leave him, he shot to his feet as quickly as lightning and gave Leonardo a hard shove against his shoulder, as if the blue-clad turtle wasn't getting off of him fast enough.

"What is your problem?" Leonardo instantly retaliated, narrowing his eyes at his younger brother. But then his glare turned quizzical as he noticed the state of his sparring partner.

Raphael was panting heavily—too heavily for a short-lived sparring match that they just had—and the turtle's pupils were dilated, almost murky. There was something about his stance, the way Raphael's lips were slightly parted, that made Leonardo raise an eye ridge.

Raphael instantly saw that look and glared, shaking his head out of the unwanted thoughts and feelings that jabbed at his mind like splinters—this guy was just so… so… so…!

"Raphael, I said that was enough." Splinter's voice broke through the haze in Raphael's mind just enough for him to force his gaze onto something else other than his brother. The mutant rat looked at his second eldest son a little curiously as well before he shook his head and declared, "Switch sparring partners. Leonardo with Donatello, Raphael with Michelangelo."

They switched partners obediently but not before Raphael saw the thoughtful look on Leonardo's face. The blue-clad turtle held his gaze just for a moment, reading him, before he turned to face Donatello, giving nothing away.

Raphael then merely looked at Michelangelo and the youngest of the four let out a long-suffering groan of woe. "Oh crap."

Raphael cracked his knuckles.

"And begin!"


If Raphael hated anything more than his smirks then it definitely had to be his smiles.

Because they gave him this weird as hell fuzzy feeling beneath his shell, beneath his skin, and made the mutant reptile actually feel really, really good.

And to Raphael, Leonardo making him feel good in any way at all was a very, very bad thing—because then he was inclined to do un-Raphael-like things in order to actually see that smile again. It wasn't like Raphael even did it on purpose half the time! Just like tonight, when he couldn't get to sleep and wandered down into the living room to watch television and Leonardo, some minute time later, had joined him on the couch. Raphael had let him sit there—it wasn't like he claimed the couch as his own and hell, even he knew it'd be petty if he started getting angry at him for watching bloody television within arm's reach of him.

Leonardo didn't know that him being that close did funny things to his feelings, and additionally, Raphael was content enough anyway just sitting there with his older brother. It must have been something to do with the time of day—or night, whatever—with the lair being so quiet and the shadows taking up more than five sixth of the place. Any company—and apparently Leonardo's—was good.

So Raphael felt he was totally undeserving when Leonardo smiled at him after he'd made a flippant, mocking comment about humans and their need for "shiny, obligatory-fruit-smelling hair".

"Um, Leo? Is there a reason why you're giving me a creepy, predator smile in the dark?" (But it wasn't creepy at all—it was small, nice, and Raphael hated the fact that it made his insides coil pleasantly. Seriously, what the shell?)

Leonardo shrugged but didn't lose the smile. "It just occurred to me how nice it is right now. I haven't sat down in front of the television with you in ages and it's… nice."

Raphael snorted in derision. "Okay, pansy boy, that's enough information. Thanks, you can be quiet now." Man he hated it when things got emotional—in the soft, girly way anyway. Hot blind rage he could understand and he would be one of the first to say that he was the most emotional one out of his brothers (probably tied with Mikey anyway).

Leonardo rolled his eyes in exasperation and chuckled wryly. "You did ask." They elapsed into a comfortable silence again as they continued to watch some random program on the television. The volume was muted so they could only guess what was going on with the cowboy hats and stampeding horses. "So you couldn't get to sleep?" Leonardo asked, cutting through the warm silence with a gentle, inquiring voice.

"Nope," Raphael confessed, eyes strained on the magic box. "I got restless—I feel like I have too much energy to sleep." Probably because their martial arts master gave them a free day today with no training, for reasons that Raphael hadn't really bothered to figure out yet. Instead, he used the time beating up his punching bag and hitting Michelangelo, but he still felt like he wasn't tired yet.

He glanced at Leonardo quickly, wondering if he felt the same. He shouldn't though—he had been training all day, as usual, even though Master Splinter hadn't told them to. He was the perfect son, after all, and he had to keep up a standard for the rest of them, didn't he? (Even Raphael cringed at the bitter sarcasm and resentment laced in that thought.)

Leonardo tapped his chin and after a while, he proposed slowly, "Do you want to spar with me?"

Raphael stared at him with a lifted eye ridge.

"For fun?" his older brother stressed, a smile quirking on his lips.

Even though Raphael was hesitant about touching him again (for some damn reason touching Leonardo nowadays was a giant pain in the butt for him—both emotionally and sometimes physically speaking), he couldn't help his own smirk from forming on his face. Even he could tell that Leonardo, the training maniac he was, was earnest about his offer. Raphael had energy to burn, Leonardo was willing to burn it with him, so what was the problem?

"Sure. I just hope you're prepared for a butt-whooping."

"You're definitely getting way too cocky."

Raphael almost choked on his own spit at the irony of that statement.

They shut off the television and in the dark, they made their way towards the dojo where they trained. Leonardo lit a ring of candles expertly with a match and soon enough, they were facing each other inside the ring, sizing each other up. Of course, the time of night being what it was, they knew without saying that neither of them would be screaming, howling, raging, or be using noisy, metal weapons of any kind—which was fair enough. All their weapons were back in their rooms anyway, along with their usual garb and mask.

Therefore, the circumstances being what they were, they started their sparring match slowly. Leonardo gave light, feigning punches and Raphael responded in turn with lazy blocks and counters. But with every jab forward and every kick sent, the softness dwindled and they moved faster, stronger, their fight rising in intensity as if they were sparring to the beats of a song. And Raphael couldn't help it—he let himself loosen, impulsively moved his body, forgetting about his frustrations and his weird behaviour and that infuriating need to be better, to be better than his older brother, because there was no external pressure right now—no Master Splinter watching them and judging them and no Michelangelo and Donatello to watch their rivalry with a tally of scores in their heads. No, it was just Raphael and Leonardo—a Leonardo who wasn't out to be better than him either and moved just as impulsively as he did with none of his fancy moves to break their flow.

And then it happened again, but this time, it wasn't really a smile—it was more like a grin, and the moment Raphael saw it, he instantly knew that he liked his grins better than his smiles.

Because Leonardo was always in control—he could always force out a smirk to rile up the enemy, a humorous tilt to his mouth to dispel the seriousness, could always smile softly when he let the mellow emotions take him.

But he couldn't fake a grin—he couldn't control the muscles in his mouth when he felt unfiltered joy. It was an unconscious thought, uncalled for and not intentional, but it was there all the same and knowing him, Leonardo probably didn't even know he was grinning at Raphael right now in the middle of their intense fight.

Sure, Raphael has gotten him to lose control on more occasions than he could bother to count—he knew how to get beneath Leonardo's skin at the best of times and he knew what kind of buttons to push. But this was different entirely.

Leonardo was willingly dumping his control and loosening up, letting himself move without calculating every step and every twitch of his muscles. He was happy to lose control.

And Raphael found that so much more satisfying than he probably should've and he grinned back brightly in return, losing himself in their fight too as he increased the ferocity, finding almost childish delight when Leonardo responded eagerly in return.

That night, Raphael forgot to be frustrated with him for the feelings he alone provoked—

Even more surprisingly, Raphael hadn't bothered to care about who won.


It was a cloudy night when it happened, during one of their nightly patrols of the city.

Raphael couldn't even remember what they were arguing about. The family of four had split up into two teams and Leonardo, taking pity on Michelangelo (who managed with sickening ease to infuriate Raphael earlier that day), had taken the family hothead as his patrol partner. What a smart idea that was. Apparently, Raphael had still been steamed about the whole "let's throw a pie at Raphael's face and colour his punching bag pink" routine and he let his anger for that run his mouth for the rest of the evening.

And, being the master, he'd managed to make Leonardo snap and they'd taken to throwing punches at each other instead. He couldn't quite remember who threw the first strike but he didn't really care—he needed to vent out some steam and who better to do that with than with Leonardo, the only one of his brothers who could take it and dish out as good as he got?

It wasn't long until Leonardo was slammed onto the rooftop on his back, Raphael instantly on top of him and pinning him there. As the blue-clad turtle struggled, Raphael stopped him by grabbing his wrists and jerking them up above his head. He straddled the older turtle's waist with all his weight. He knew that no matter how much Leonardo struggled and bucked, he wouldn't be able to generate enough power from his position to throw him off.

It was the perfect time, Raphael thought, to do some payback taunting. "Come on, Fearless, get yourself out of this one," he mocked. "Either you do that or you admit sweet, humiliating defeat."

Leonardo glared at him darkly.

Raphael couldn't help but chuckle.

And then the sky cackled and it started to rain. With an inner sigh, Raphael figured that it was time to call the others and head home, but before he even loosened his grip, he found himself struck paralysed.

He only just realised what kind of position they were in.

As the rain continued to fall, soaking them wet, Raphael simply stared down at his older brother. There he was—the object of his eternal frustrations—pinned down beneath him, helpless and unable to fight back. The water slid against his skin smoothly and as Raphael watched a small stream of water follow the curve of his face and slide down across his neck, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to follow that trail with his roughened tongue.

"Um, Raph? You planning on getting off of me any time soon?"

Raphael's gaze snapped back up to Leonardo's inquiring, unsure eyes.

Then the younger turtle slowly smirked.

"Not until you admit defeat, no."

Then he impulsively bent his head and leaned downwards, pressing his lips against the underside of Leonardo's jaw. When his older brother jerked in surprise, Raphael only tightened his hold on his wrists. "Say it," Raphael murmured against his skin, delighting in the way he felt Leonardo shiver beneath him. "Say that I defeated you."

"Raphael, let me up."

"The Power of Full Names doesn't work jack shit on me, Fearless," Raphael chuckled. He placed his other hand on the smaller turtle's plastron, stroking it lazily. "You know that only really works on Mikey."

"Raph," Leonardo hissed. "Let. Me. Up."

"Only if you say it."

Raphael wanted him to lose control—to lose control just like he did when they sparred that other night, like he does when he's in a fury. Raphael could feel every fibre of his self-control snapping as he continued to smell and touch his older brother and it was only fair if it was the same for Leonardo too.

The Fearless Leader stared up into Raphael's eyes defiantly. "No."

Raphael grinned. Oh well—he just had to make him say it then.

He tightened his hold on him and, ignoring how tense Leonardo was, he began to tantalisingly run his tongue over the turtle's skin, collecting delicious water into his mouth that he swore tasted much too sweet to be rain water. He felt Leonardo hiss, his breath tickling his ear, and when he felt his muscles tense in preparation for a violent struggle, Raphael suddenly clamped down his teeth around Leonardo's exposed throat and rocked his hips harshly against his impulsively.

Raphael's breath hitched in his throat and Leonardo let out a strangled gasp. When Leonardo trembled beneath him, Raphael's only response was to bite down a little harder, earning a small, arousing groan from the older turtle. The sound triggered so many signals inside of him and all of them seemed to focus on a particular part of his body Raphael hadn't really paid much attention to in the past.

Realising what part of his body was reacting to Leonardo's whining sounds only seemed to make the feelings stronger. With his teeth still clamped viciously around Leonardo's throat, he rocked his hips again, once, twice—beginning a slow, almost lazy rhythm that seemed to burn the both of them with the friction despite the cold fall of rain.


The voice stopped him in his tracks and made Raphael's eyes widen. He'd never heard Leonardo sound quite like that before. He released his hold on his throat and he lifted his head up, staring down at Leonardo with wide, disbelieving eyes.

He'd never thought he'd ever see his brother like this—all glassy-eyed and open-mouthed and panting and so incredibly, ridiculously, infuriatingly, undeniably, so fucking infuriatingly sexy

And so out of control.

Oh fuck.

And then, through the downpour of the rain, they both heard it:

"Leo? Raph? Is that you?"

They instantly broke apart and never before had either of them moved so quickly. Raphael thanked whoever there was to be thanked out there that it was raining so heavily, so that when Donatello and Michelangelo got close enough to actually see them in detail, they found nothing amiss. "Oh, good," Donatello shouted over the rain. "Glad we found you guys so quickly—can we get back to the lair? I hate being out in the rain!"

Raphael and Leonardo took extra care not to look at each other. Leonardo coughed into his hand and nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Let's head back home." Meanwhile, Raphael was trying to calm down the almost dangerous beating of his heart—and he knew deep down in his gut that Leonardo was doing exactly the same. When Raphael made a swift glance at him, he could see the tremble in the Fearless Leader's shoulders even through the rain, could still feel the heat radiating from his body as if he was still pressed up against him, still beneath him—

Then, without looking at Raphael, he turned his back and started running back towards the direction of the nearest available manhole, Donatello following gratefully after.

Raphael stood there for a moment, feeling the firm beating of raindrops against his shoulders and back, and didn't snap out of it until Michelangelo was waving a three-fingered hand in front of his face. "Hello? Heeeelllooo? Anyone in there?" the youngest turtle asked curiously. "What's up with you, Raph?"

The other shook his head and smacked Michelangelo's hand away with an irritated grunt. "Nothing. Let's just head back home."

To avoid any more prying questions from his younger brother, Raphael began to follow Leonardo and Donatello's steps back to the lair. He heard an indignant "Hey! Wait up for me!" behind him but he ignored that for now.

He was reliving what had transpired between him and the eldest brother, wondering what exactly was going to happen from now on. He wondered if he should be worried, if he would end up regretting what happened tonight when things suddenly take a turn for the worst the next time they made eye contact with each other.

But then he remembered the soft groan Leonardo had let escape and Raphael smirked against the rain—

Whatever it was that just happened, it wasn't really anything to worry about.

Leonardo had lost control—and that infuriating, collected, perfect-in-every-way Fearless Leader… had liked it.


If Raphael was asked to make a list about what infuriated him the most about his older brother, he would have laughed in the asker's face. The list would have been too long to write and Raphael wouldn't have been able to finish it anyway.

One of the things that made the top ten, however, had to be when Leonardo was acting all high-and-mighty and downright overconfident

Which was pretty much all the time.

Like right now.

Raphael wished he would just stop smirking at him like that! (It did funny things to his body and truthfully, Raphael wasn't sure anymore that it was entirely just anger.)

"You have something to say, Fearless?"

It had just been a week since that incident on the rooftop and, being the teenage mutant ninja turtles that they were, they didn't have the luxury to avoid each other. They had to push all doubt and worry and unease aside in the heat of battle and truthfully, Raphael found that part easy. It was good to fall back to the normal routines, to let his body move in a way that might as well be instinctive, fuelled by the raw need to survive and protect—it was a relaxing reprieve from the otherwise tense silences and calculating gazes when they were alone and safe and free to think about things Raphael would rather not think about.

But tonight, for some strange reason, Leonardo had decided not to avoid him anymore. He'd paired up Michelangelo and Donatello for their nightly patrol and sent them off, leaving Raphael to deal with whatever scheme their leader was planning. Seeing as this would be the first time in a week that Leonardo had willingly spent alone time with him, Raphael felt justified to be more than a little suspicious.

And that God damn smirk.

Nope. Definitely something wrong.

"Well? I don't have all night, Leo."

"I've figured it all out," Leonardo finally confessed and there was an amused lilt to his voice that made Raphael's eye ride twitch. "About why you've been such a huge pain in the ass lately—more so than usual, I mean."

"You better be careful with your words, big bro. You're calling me a pain in the ass?" He could almost laugh at that.

But the smirk was still dancing on his lips and there was a strange look in his eyes—a sort of twinkle, but Raphael would never admit that Leonardo's eyes even had the capacity to twinkle. It sounded so unmanly and the look that he was giving him now—kind of smouldering, definitely playful, perhaps dusted with a little darkness—was anything but girly. The pale moonlight shone in his eyes just right to give a dangerous edge and from where Raphael was standing, he could see the shadows hugging every dip and grove of his body, outlining his lean muscles and caressing his skin like rain. Leonardo's gaze brightened when he realised that Raphael was staring and his smirk grew wider.

Damn cocky bastard.

"All this time—you weren't angry at me. Not really."

Raphael shook his head and sneered. "Whoa, hold on there, cowboy. What are you on about?"

They were on a rooftop—as usual—and Raphael briefly wondered if people living on the taller buildings were spying on them through their windows. He didn't usually worry about things like that (paranoia was Leonardo's character trait, not his), but he would think anything right now in efforts to ignore the almost predatory way Leonardo took a step towards him.

"Are you saying that my anger was fake?" Raphael continued, leaning back against the rooftop balcony for comfort (no, he didn't do it to move even just an inch away from Leonardo, shut up) and using his arms to brace himself against the cement rising. "You must have finally snapped, Leo—you can't fake years and years' worth of anger."

Leonardo tilted his head and asked, "Oh? Alright then, let's talk about this calmly for once. Why are you mad at me?" But he was only humouring him, Raphael knew, because even though he adopted a curiously innocent expression, Leonardo didn't stop walking towards him and his eyes certainly did not stop gleaming.

He was not sexy!

Shut up!

"You're too damn arrogant!" Raphael spat, watching his older brotherly just as keenly as he watched him. He ignored the ramming organ in his chest, wanting to break through his plastron.

"How can I be arrogant when I'm just being truthful?" Leonardo countered, still looking deceptively innocent. Oh, the ways of the ninja.

Raphael grated his teeth together. "You're not the best fighter, Leo."

"Perhaps," Leonardo nodded. He was finally close enough to Raphael so that when he casually leaned forward, his breath tickled the skin on his face. He grinned and slipped his hands between Raphael's body and his arms, leaning against the balcony as he trapped Raphael against it. "But there's no denying that I'm pretty damn good. It's kind of petty to hold a grudge against me over that, so what else are you mad at me for?"

Raphael glared darkly and tensed. Leonardo was suddenly too close to him (as if he hadn't been already when he was within seeing distance) and when they breathed just at the right moment, their plastrons would brush against each other like a butterfly's touch. But damn it all, Raphael would not cower in the face of Leonardo's power play. He leered down at the smaller turtle and resisted the urge to cross his arms—instead, he just gripped the cement wall harder. "I hate what you're doing right now—trying to take control of me, take control of the situation, as if you can control everything and make it play like you want it. Well, news flash, Fearless—not everything is going to go as perfectly as you plan it all the time and maybe, just maybe, you should stop pretending to be the perfect guy you think you are."

And there it was—that smouldering look of amusement vanished and in its place sparked rage, a signal of him losing just a tiny bit of control. Raphael's heart thumped a bit harder when Leonardo gave him that look and firmly moved forward to shove his face into his, just inches away from touching.

"Oh, I don't think I'm perfect," Leonardo snapped, his gaze sweltering. "I'm far from perfect. Definitely not the perfect leader. Not the perfect student. Not even the perfect brother. And do you want to know why? Because a perfect leader, a perfect student, and especially a perfect brother would definitely have the sense not to do this."

Then, without any further warning, Leonardo crashed his lips against Raphael's in an ill attempt at a kiss.

Raphael made a low guttural sound at the back of his throat—thrown completely off guard—and winced slightly at what Leonardo called a kiss; it was more like him smashing his face against his with all the enthusiasm of a rouge train wreck than anything else. Realising this was not exactly a pleasant experience, Leonardo pulled back and Raphael had to laugh at the extremely put-off look on his older brother's face.

He was fucking adorable.

"Oh yeah," Raphael stated wryly. "Definitely not perfect. Can't even dish out a proper kiss."

Completely humiliated at his failure at seduction, Leonardo started to pull back, muttering, "Shut up."

But before he could move away entirely, before he could run away, Raphael's arms shot up and wrapped themselves around Leonardo's shoulders, anchoring him. He cradled the back of Leonardo's neck with a hand, forcing the older turtle to look at him, and smirked mischievously. "Don't you worry, big bro. Lemme teach you how to do it right."

Then he angled their heads just slightly so that when Raphael moved down to connect their lips, it definitely was not unpleasant.

It was a small peck at first, chaste, and Raphael immediately pulled back. Leonardo was staring at him with that wide-eyed look of his that made him look absolutely clueless and Raphael couldn't keep himself away from the temptation and leaned down again, giving him another peck, and another, until the need grew stronger and stronger and Raphael was shoving his tongue down his older brother's throat.


Raphael made use of Leonardo's bewilderment and spun them around, slamming Leonardo against the rooftop balcony. This time, it was him who trapped the blue-clad turtle against cement and he was going to thoroughly take advantage of their new position. He wedged a leg in between Leonardo's and rubbed himself against the other—he was rewarded by a low, primal groan that made him shiver in delight. Leonardo's hands crept up and held onto the other's shell firmly, as if that was the only thing letting him remain on his own two feet. Still fighting a battle of dominance with their tongues, Raphael grunted in Leonardo's mouth as he rocked himself against the smaller turtle, feeling him tremble against him and rock back eagerly in response.

He never imagined that bitter tea could taste so good—Raphael was beginning to believe that anything could taste good if he took it directly from the other turtle's mouth. (Now that brought up a magnitude of delicious, kinky ideas.)

Reluctantly, Raphael pulled back—his lungs were aching too much from the lack of sufficient oxygen in his system (apparently, taking shallow breaths in between their make-out session was not sufficient enough—damn bodily limitations). He didn't feel too bad about it though, because when he got a good look at his older brother, he was extremely pleased to see the completely lost and dazed look on his face, lips parted and cheeks flushed and eyes glazed in pleasure.

It should be a crime to look that vulnerable and ravishing.

Raphael chuckled deeply and bumped his nose against the other. "That… didn't go according to your 'plan', did it, Fearless?"

Leonardo blinked at him, regaining some of his senses, and Raphael was surprised to hear the sudden snicker that escaped his mouth. "Actually, you're wrong there, Raph." Leonardo threw his arms up and wound them around Raphael's neck, pulling him closer to grin lopsidedly in his face. The sight of it made Raphael's heart do a thrust kick against his ribs in retribution. Leonardo kissed him again and moved his tongue lazily against his. Raphael threw his confusion to the backseat of his mind and kissed back deeply, earning a throaty moan from the other. This time, however, Leonardo didn't let him take the aggressive lead, and he kissed Raphael with as much passion and stubbornness as he was known for, controlled and steady and damn it all, that guy was a quick learner.

Perhaps Raphael got it all wrong. He didn't hate the fact that Leonardo was always so arrogant, so in control, so smug all the time—everything he said, every proud tilt of his head and even the way he walked, was just so very much Leonardo that Raphael couldn't help but feel a little excited about it, feel a little bit daring. He wanted to push his buttons, he wanted to see how far he could go before he snapped, because the sight of a Leonardo who lost control was just as damned arousing as a Leonardo who could smirk at him despite his wrath, keeping that deadly calm in a way that would make his heart spontaneously die and run overtime at the mere sight of it.

Perhaps Leonardo wasn't as infuriating as Raphael first thought, and all this time he'd just been getting angry because his older brother was too damn hot for his own good—or too damn sexy for him to resist. Either analogy worked just fine; really, Raphael was just annoyed with the fact that he could be completely undone by Leonardo simply doing nothing but be his stupid, smug, sexy-as-hell self.

How annoying.

Leonardo pulled back from the kiss and grinned at him cockily. He summed up what Raphael was just realising in one calm, knowing smirk. "Yup, my plan worked perfectly. You just proved to me that all your bitchiness from before wasn't really just general frustration, but actually sexual frustration. Gee, Raph. I'm kind of flattered that you've thought of me like this for so long."

But then there were those other times—

His older brother grinned. "You should've said something earlier, you know."

When Leonardo really was just a big fat pain in the ass that needed a good spanking.

Instead of getting angry, Raphael stilled. Then he smirked in a way that had Leonardo losing his grin and blinking rapidly in confused, naive apprehension.




The End