I've always been a heavy sleeper
It comes from having two loud, annoying brothers and one loud, bossy one; if you want to get any sleep around here, you do so like a log. I've learned, furthermore, that my workshop is the only place in the lair far enough from the chaos of three vastly different personalities constantly clashing to get any peace and quiet.
Here, too, I can have my restless dreams.
Used to, I never got distracted from my work. I could grind away at drawing up blueprints, welding, soldering, programming, or whatever for sixteen hours before Master Splinter finally came in and bodily dragged me to bed. Occasionally he'd just let me work through my machinist's mania, and I'd wake up half-atop a brand-new invention I barely remembered engineering, much less building
Now it's different. Now my mind wanders; sometimes, it's like it isn't even my mind anymore. Master Splinter once described my sense of focus as "a vise," but even he knows it's changed. He puts a tolerant hand on my shoulder, nods understandingly when I laugh uneasily and tell him the boiler isn't quite fixed yet.
In his mind, these are growing pains. Normal teenage boy stuff.
She haunts my dreams.
I doze off and my head drops to my arm across the desktop, narrowly avoiding the razor-sharp edge of a circuit board. I push it aside, not wanting to contaminate it with my saliva and dead skin cells, never mind the fact that I could lose an eye…then jolt awake briefly as I hear my name. It's not unusual to hallucinate when you're sleep-deprived, but I'm on edge now because it was her voice.
I consider lifting my head to answer her. That's me, always attentive to her every need and whimsy. But instead I lay still, mimicking the slow, deep breaths of sleep, wondering what she'll do if she thinks I'm asleep.
"Donnie, wake up." Despite myself, I catch my breath as her arms find their way around my neck. She rests her cheek atop my head, and I can feel the shape of her cute button nose, the soft curve of her lips, against my skin. Her breath is a wash of hot air down my neck, insistent even in the silence, and I can't suppress a shudder.
Her voice is low and quiet in my ear.
"I knew you were awake, silly."
I want to turn around and look at her, but at the same time I don't want to lose her arms around me, or her skin against mine. "Hi April." It's impossible to sound casual; my voice comes out in a croak because my throat is Sahara-dry from her closeness, not to mention her touch.
"Just 'Hi April?'" She sounds more amused than disappointed. I close my eyes, feeling the barest instant of irritation with her. She knows exactly how I feel…well, she must have a very good idea, at least. Yet she's always teasing me with her hugs and touches that I'm supposed to believe are purely sisterly. Or I should learn to believe it, for my own damn good, Raph said.
"How long have you been asleep in that weird position? No wonder you're so stiff." I wince to myself at her choice of phrasing. Stiff, indeed. Her hands slide back onto my shoulders now, and I'm surprised by how strong they are despite their small size. Her thumbs press into the sides of my neck as she massages with unexpected skill, working out knots and bunches of tired muscle that had probably been that way for months. I all but melt into her hands with a sigh of pleasure, never mind that her ministrations are having a very different effect elsewhere.
"You like that?" She croons into my ear, a little breathlessly. It's the sweetest sound I've ever heard. I bite off a groan, burying my face in my arms to hide my reaction. She's not fooled. She laughs, but it's quiet and husky, not mocking
"Donnie, you've really got to learn to relax."
"-'t" My voice is muffled by my arms. She slides a hand under my chin, tilting my head up and back. What feels like a kiss grazes over my ear slit, hot breath tickling inside and making me shudder again.
"I didn't catch that."
I swallow hard.
"I-I…I can't. How can I relax when you're touching me?" I sound quite terse.
Oh, smooth one, Donnie.
She stops. I figure I've blown it, just like always. Then I feel the warmth of her hand sliding over my shoulder, slipping under the leather strap to caress where it meets my plastron.
"Then you'll just have to get used to it." Her hand slides lower.
Alarm bells are going off in my head, but as distantly as though the fire were down the block and not in my loins. I should probably be trying to stop this, although it would be awkward with the huge office chair and her embrace hemming me in and my hazy mind can't focus on a single reason why I should stop this. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut, silently begging for just the opposite.
Those slim and sensitive fingers tug at my belt, pulling along between them until she finds the fastening and deftly works it loose; the loud 'clink' of the buckles hitting the concrete floor is utterly lost in the blood rushing in my ears. Dimly, I'm surprised there's any blood left to work my brain, as I definitely can't think clearly with her touch seemingly all over me.
Her hand brushes over my knee, and a thrill chases the unease up my spine and into oblivion. Her fingernails prick me a little, and I groan fully this time, spreading my thighs without hesitation at only this lightest persuasion from her. I imagine she smiles with feminine satisfaction at my submission, though of course I can't see. She can see me, though; my face feels like it's on fire, and I know she's aware of the dark blush staining my cheeks, not to mention the fact that I've been trembling uncontrollably since she first touched me.
"Hmmmm…what's this?" Her hand slides between my legs, perhaps not finding what she expected. I suppose I'd never thought to give her a crash course on turtle anatomy, and I wouldn't have made it through this part even if I'd tried such a thing. But she's a clever woman, and her fingertips are gently probing, seeking, until she finds the slit usually nearly hidden in the surface of my plastron, now clearly defined by the turgidity of the flesh just inside. Now I panic.
"A-April, I don't think you should, I mean I want you to, but-"
"Shhhhhhhhh." She shushes me, the warmth of her breath against my neck and the side of my face oddly soothing despite the tension. I've long since broken out into a hot sweat, and she brushes her lips over the back and side of my head, tasting my discomfort. My arousal. My need. "Just be still and enjoy."
I'm certainly enjoying, but I can't be still. She's found her way into my most intimate places, and my whole body jerks uncontrollably as her fingers wrap around me. Fortunately, her touch is almost feather-light in its gentleness, because even I'm not sure what'd happen if she squeezed me now.
"How interesting…" The cloaca self-lubricates a bit, and she swirls her fingers in the light and silky fluid. The shaft must feel natural to her grasp, because her hand slides easily around it, grasping gently but firmly as she releases me. The sudden cool air on supremely sensitive flesh is nothing compared to the scorching heat of her touch, or her breath on my ear.
"Oh, it's so big." She sounds surprised, and something about that arouses me still more, making me wince with the effort of not bucking against her smooth palm. She can't even begin to hold me all at once, and I'm desperate for more, to feel the play of her soft skin against my leathery. Her lips press down warmly where my neck and shoulder meet, and it's like she already knows just what I need. Just what I've dreamed of.
"Oh April, please, please-" My voice comes out a pathetic whimper, cut off by a husked moan as she strokes me at last. She squeezes, gently at first, then more firmly as she senses my need for more contact, a rougher touch. Her other hand had been resting on my thigh, but suddenly those fingers are curved around my shaft too, as though she wants to feel as much of me at once as possible. I'm whining with need, my hips moving of their own volition, trying to thrust in and out of the sweet trap her fingers have made for me. She frowns, making that adorable little wrinkle between her eyebrows, and suddenly the chair spins around. She's on top of me. Her legs pin mine to the sides of the chair, and she kisses my lips for the first time. It's just a brushing of her mouth over mine, but it leaves me breathless and staring at her, like a wide-eyed child.
"Be still." She says the words against my lips. I open my mouth the way I opened my legs, offering my body as her scaffold to Elysium. My own hands had been gripping the arms of the chair till they ached, but now they're as restless as hers; they dip under the hem of her t-shirt, pulling the bright yellow fabric up until it catches on the curve of her breasts; she grabs it from my hands and yanks it off over her head. My fingers snag in the lacy pale buttercup confection she wears beneath, gently tugging down until those luscious twin peaches are finally free and blushing beneath the heat of my gaze and the flimsy garment is lost to the floor behind us as well. I nuzzle breathily between her breasts, planting tiny kisses all over until she grabs my head, forcing me closer. I gladly consent, taking one candy pink nipple in my mouth, and then the other. She arches her back in pleasure, and I reach around to support her and pull her in, easily spanning her tiny waist. She's as sweaty and flushed as I am now, moaning little whimpers voicing her approval of my mouth on her body.
The old chair creaks unsteadily. I shove weeks' worth of delicate soldering off my desk; it clatters to the floor with a noisy series of crashes that could wake the dead, never mind a family of ninja, but I don't care. I perch her on the edge, looking up into cerulean eyes to gauge her reactions. She seems to approve as I fumble clumsily with the buttons on her denim shorts. I struggle with the black tights beneath until she hooks her fingers in the band and pulls them down, confronting me with her smooth and creamy thighs. She's so beautiful that I literally ache to taste her; when I drop my head to kiss a crooked line across her thigh, then inward, she's so delicious that my mouth literally waters. The panties she wears are a mere scrap of innocently yellow; I catch them in my teeth and rip them away, leaving her womanly scent and blushing flesh naked to my perusal. The curve of her mound is adorned by a wildfire of coppery red curls, and I can't resist running a slow fingertip along them; I'm started from my trance when she moans and presses against my finger.
"Donnie, please, more…"
"I could never refuse you, my dear." My voice is rough with arousal and tight with fascination as I caress her. She seems so small and vulnerable in my hands. I teasingly trace up her slit, barely touching at all, smiling conspiratorially to myself when just the lightest pressure at the top of that motion makes her hips jerk and draws out another moan. Teasing, I kiss her there; I ease a fingertip just inside the tightly furled outer lips. She's already damp and welcoming around my finger as I probe tenderly at the opening; she spreads her legs wider to admit me. I watch her face as I penetrate her so slowly and sweetly that she begs me for more even as she's nearly filled by a single digit. Her expression changes from anticipation to sheer ecstasy as I press the pad of my thumb against her clit, rubbing in tiny circles and swirls, and her wetness is seeping onto the rest of my fingers as the motion of her hips, pushing for more, shows her approval.
Suddenly her warm weight is on my lap again, my knees held between her spread ones. She reaches for my manhood once more, squeezing and massaging almost brutally hard in her excitement. I gasp into her shoulder as she manhandles me, but I love the roughness all the same. The way she shimmies into my touch guides my fingers, and I carefully slip another finger inside, feeling the hot wetness of her sheath all but sucking me in as I do. Her hands on me take on a new urgency as we pleasure one another; me smoothly and carefully, her wildly and thoughtlessly. I'm holding my breath now, willing myself not to think about the gravity of what's happening now, of her naked in my lap and our bodies so close together that I could just nudge myself inside, tenderly impale her and steal the virginity I can feel so snug against my fingers.
"Ungh!" My slow and teasing touch on her clit works a kind of gradual magic, a slow launch into an abyss of ecstasy as she smashes her face against my plastron so hard that she must be seeing stars, muffling her scream in my waiting body. "Donnie!"
I kiss the back of her head soothingly, losing myself in the silky-soft red mass, no longer in a ponytail but hanging loose in damp ringlets stuck to the sweaty skin of her neck and my shoulders. As she spasms around my fingers, she's so unbelievably hot and tight and welcoming, begging silently, trying to milk my digits for more than I can give her this way. That thought is too much for me, and I lean back with a strangled groan.
"April…April, I…" At the last instant, her eyes meet mine; they're still liquid; no, molten from her fifteen seconds in oblivion, and she watches me unflinchingly as I come too; with nothing to muffle my cry of release, it's much louder than hers, and almost pained. I come harder and more than I ever have before, making us both wet and sticky even as I gently slip out of her to cover her fingers, still wrapped around my shaft, with my own even as the liquid heat splashes us both, my hips jerking against her grasp.
With all the ninja skills I've learned, it takes a long time to get my breathing under control. The chair's vinyl cover sticks uncomfortably to my skin, but curled together, we're our own private ball of afterglow despite the discomfort. I close my eyes and am content to just be with her for the moment, even as our rapidly cooling skin and the sounds of the others outside tells me that this moment of bliss won't last.
She opens her eyes first, starting to pull away, but leaving a tender kiss on my beak. As she reaches for her clothes, her scent of strawberry shampoo and cinnamon gum has soaked into me; permanently, I hope. I notice her looking around, and I turn away with a new flush, this time shyly and with a bit of shame.
"Sorry…sorry I made such a mess."
"It's okay." Her voice is quiet, but it has that lilt to it that I know means she's smiling. When I dare to look at her again, indeed, she's smiling at me.