Little Stories

First Little Story

This ultimately, completely and absolutely was not happening.
Donatello closed his eyes as pleasure swirled through him. He put a hand on Michelangelo’s scalp, keeping him close and keeping him palpable. He cherished it the more the better he knew that it wasn’t real.
And it felt real. Mikey’s smiley mouth that never stopped talking was sucking him, and Donatello felt his tongue brush restlessly against and around the head of his cock. It felt good, that needy, hazed kind of good that he knew from his dreams – the one that would leave wet sheets, or him yet to wet them.
Donatello massaged his brother’s head with his fingertips, encouraging him to stay a little longer. He wanted to remain in this dream, away from reality that never lived up to his expectations. He’d learnt to expect nothing, but he wished very dearly that dreams lasted.
A fire in his abdomen was growing and spreading. Tracks of Donatello’s ever working mind tangled into one: that Michelangelo was touching the base of his cock and taking him in deep. And although he told himself not to call names in ecstasy because someone could hear… “Mikey…!” And Michelangelo froze.
Desperate not to leave the dream at the very brim, Don took his head and thrust inside. He came in Mikey’s throat, focusing so hard not to cry out that waves of pressure rippling through him drowned out gagging. Convulsing. Small sobs that revealed that…
This ultimately, completely and absolutely was not Mikey.

Second Little Story

Never had Leonardo been less inclined to put on what humans called “clothes”. They were uncomfortable. Restricting. They smelled bad, although that might be because all the clothes he had ever worn came from sewers and dumpsters.
This… model was actually brand new and it smelled rather good – but Leonardo didn’t trust it. At all. Black leather might be pleasant to touch, but he was not going to wear it!
“No. Absolutely, no way in shell no,” Leo said in his most polite voice.
“Come on, you will look gorgeous!” Michelangelo whined, grinning.
“I’ll let you top,” Raphael offered, grinning.
“I think you should definitely try it,” Donatello said, grinning.
“Last word, no,” Leonardo refused and turned his shell to them.
“In that case, one of us will have to wear it.”
Leo froze.
“Oh you can’t mean that Mikey –” Raphael started to object.
“If he doesn’t want to wear the clothes, no use trying to make him,” Michelangelo continued. “Come on Donnie, let’s get YOU dressed up! I know that skin of yours will look great against the black leather. And you know, who has the whip, has the power!”
“But didn’t we agree that tonight Leo would –” Donatello began.
Leonardo turned around, his cheeks flushed.
“Alright, I’ll wear it,” he said quickly.

Third Little Story

“Alright, let’s do this!” Michelangelo cheered and dug into the mud of sewer alluvium.
“Why are we doing this?” Raphael groaned.
“Action figures! Lots and lots of them!” Michelangelo laughed. “There are treasures down here dude!”
“Mikey…” Donatello sighed. “As I’ve been trying to tell you for the past few hours, the probability of such findings, moreover repeated…” Don’s voice trailed off.
“What is it Don?” Leonardo asked, ignoring Michelangelo’s excited grunts.
“I… think this is mine,” Donatello said quietly, holding up a slick object.
“Whoa… really?” Raphael muttered, coming to have a closer look. “What’s that?”
“A car. Remote controlled… Maybe I could put one together and see if it still works…” Donatello smiled softly.
Leonardo’s eyeridges furrowed. “Isn’t this the car that you nearly drowned trying to save?”
“Back in the day, yeah,” Donatello nodded dreamily.
“That’s all nice and sweet,” Michelangelo called. “But will you help me get those action figures?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Donatello put the car in his duffel bag, tearing his mind away from memories. He chuckled. “I’ve been saying that the probability of finding anything is… well, low,” he eyed his hard-working little brother, “but now I’m ready to believe just about anything. Let’s do this!” he exclaimed and went to help Mikey.

Fourth Little Story

The world was just a tiny it unjust, Michelangelo thought as he looked at his brothers.
Donatello was reading a heavy book. The world had been the most unfair to him when they grew up. In a universe of five people, his mind had been terribly lonesome. He probably didn’t feel it back them, but if April, Leatherhead, prof. Honeycutt and everyone else were taken from him now, he’d go mad.
Leonardo was doing one-handed push-ups. He had always had master Splinter to relate to, and he’d met others who thought like him. Karai, Usagi, the Ancient One… It hurt Mikey to think that the world was yet going to be unfair to him – and in the most horrible way. Supposing of course, they didn’t get themselves killed before master Splinter had the chance to pass away.
Raphael was watching a TV show. For him it was Casey – those two were such exact reflections that it changed them to meet each other. That was a good thing too, Michelangelo thought, because else he’d probably end up dead or at least badly hurt by his brother’s hands. It was actually curious how such a volatile crook could have good influence of Raph.
With child, and later childlike intuition, Mikey had always been able to empathise with his brothers. He understood their feelings even when they didn’t. Now they all had somebody alike, who understood them because he was built in the same way.
Michelangelo smiled, and then grinned. He was sure as shell going to meet someone like that too.

Fifth Little Story

“I am certain things will back to normal in no time, master.”
They won’t. Playing his words again, Leonardo’s vow fills his mind with reverberating assurance – things will be back to normal, back to normal – but one unchangeable fact remains: that they never will.
Leonardo doesn’t understand why master Splinter let him make that promise in the first place. He must have known that the way the Lair is now, things will never be back to normal. Well, at least not Leonardo’s way of normal.
And this scares Leo. His idea of normality is apparently different from his family’s. From what he’s seen, here it’s normal that touches linger. Normal that two brothers come out of the same bedroom in the morning. In Leonardo’s opinion this is wrong, this is badly wrong! – but he stands alone against a family of four.
He’s been left behind. Having escaped when the pressure on him became unbearable, he took the longing for an unspoiled home along with him. There he wanted to return.
“I got so caught up in my own world, I forgot about everyone else.”
But time moved on. His brothers moved on. They don’t want to go back to that unspoiled home, and instead they built a new one, where Leo is lost.
“On the contrary my son. Now you are much stronger.”
Leonardo wonders why. Why it had to turn out this way. Why master Splinter expects him to get used to it. Why everything he knew has turned. Why all is different from what he imagined.

Sixth Little Story

Sometimes Donatello wondered.
Would his life be the same if he never saw the future? Would his decisions be any different? Would he still be where he was?
So many questions…
He wasn’t sure whether he liked the saying: The moment you can ask a question, you already know the answer. It implied that all the questions he could ask had an answer, an answer he knew to boot. But it also let an icy hand touch him: What about all the questions that he would never ask? There was an infinity of them; so many things that he didn’t know and would never know, they drowned out all he knew.
So many possibilities…
Usually Donatello didn’t ponder this. He focused on tasks at hand, on his small life of great mind. He stayed where it was safe, just close enough to reality to soothe him but not to disturb him. He didn’t venture out to get lost in the endless sea of possibilities, simply because he was scared of it. His genius saw it too great to comprehend. He would soon go mad if he ever tried.
So much information…
Donatello always tried to collect as much data as he could, store it for later and use it when needed. Facts were meant to lie low until he called for them, yet some of them seemed alive. They lured him. He had to come back to them, contemplate, reflect, he had to wear them sometimes else they would turn into a nagging source of unease.
The future that he had seen was one of them. The memory came to him in his dreams, never letting him stop wondering, what if? What if he left now? Would it happen exactly as he’d seen? Would it be the same as it never was, but could be? And could it?

Seventh Little Story

Dreaming was something Leonardo didn’t really believe in. He accepted vision. Visions were good – they gave insights into events of past and present, and sometimes even future. But dreams? They meant nothing. They were silly little piles of facts and imagined incidents – and Leonardo hated when something disguised itself as reality. He hated to confuse what had happened and what was in his head.
He was used to brothers coming to him after they woke up from a bad dream, as he was used to getting up to comfort them. Yet their nightmares were nothing but dreams – and it shook him how close to a vision one of them got.
“Just because you don’t know about it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.
“Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
“Just because you don’t remember it doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened.”
Leonardo felt threatened by such dreams, those that said nothing but “I am real.” They tried to erase the difference between sleep and lucidity, creating a world that was not safe to move in. How was he supposed to lead if he couldn’t tell illusion and solid facts apart?
He wanted the logic Donatello used here, or the wisdom and intuition that had settled in master Splinter’s bones. Helpless, he attempted to wrap his mind around this dream while waiting for a more agile mind to give him a clue what it meant.

Eighth Little Story

One of the things that Leonardo dreadfully expected to happen one day was that a brother or two (or three) would start making out in the middle of a training run, or worse, a fight.
Anticipating it eased his panic when he saw Raphael pushing Michelangelo against a wall instead of swinging fists at the small Foot patrol they ran into that night. Leonardo swiftly made his way through the battlefield to shield them from harm, yelling all the time:
“Focus guys! Get a grip, will you?”
He was grateful that Raphael at least yelled back:
“You got it under control Leo! Work with Donnie!”
“Ohh, this is exciting!” Michelangelo’s giggle could be heard.
Fighting ninjas as well as desperate disbelief, Leonardo appreciated that the wall protected them from one side – else he and Donatello probably wouldn’t make it. It was distracting enough to hear all the yelps and shouts Michelangelo was giving: “Ahh!” and “Raphie!” and “What the shell? Use lube Raph!”
They had the decency to tone it down once the fight was over, but watching them enjoy themselves out of corner of his eye, Leonardo thought that they were never going to hear the end of it.

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