Stalker
Has it been a normal day, Michelangelo would gladly accept the inviting warmth of his blanket and fall asleep immediately. This day, however, is far from normal.
Michelangelo knows for a fact that somebody is under his bed. He can hear them breathing. He can tell that they know about him, too, and they’ve had thousands of chances to go away which they didn’t take. He also knows what they are.
A stalker. A creature from hell that will stop before nothing to reach its goal. Him, Michelangelo. Aw shell.
“...Mike. Mikey. Michelangelo!”
His super-size vanilla ice cream vanished to be replaced with Leonardo’s face. The leader was leaning on the mattress of his bed, looking sternly into Michelangelo’s eyes. The young turtle squinted at him.
“Morning...” he groaned and curled into a ball. Leonardo gave him a disapproving look. Michelangelo rolled over to face the wall.
“Hey.” A hand patted his shell.
“Mmmmm!”
“It’s morning.”
“Midnight to me.”
“Breakfast’s ready.”
“Really?”
“And Raph and Don are already at it. I made pancakes.”
“Really?!” Michelangelo briskly rolled over again and jumped off of the bed.
“Whoa!” Luckily Leonardo caught him before the tangled mess of covers and limbs hit the floor.
“Thanks,” Michelangelo uttered and tried to storm off.
“Slow down Mikey,” Leo told him, carefully freeing his body of the clingy blanket. “It’s fine, I told them to leave you some.”
Michelangelo was shaking with impatience. “Wait for me, pancakes!” he yelled and to his horror heard Raphael’s rumbling laughter. “Oh man Leo, lemme go!” He attempted to leap out of the quilt but only managed to jerk them both off-balance. Leonardo fell on top of him.
“M-Mike-!” Michelangelo paid no heed to his flushed face and began bucking to throw Leo off. The blue ninja was stammering and desperately clutching at Michelangelo to keep him in place. And yet, Michelangelo wanted to be anywhere but under Leonardo! He wanted to sit at the table and grab for the warm, fatty pancakes and stuff them into his mouth!
“Get offa me!” he roared and pushed against Leonardo’s chest powerfully. Leo froze for a moment and Michelangelo easily toppled him over, scrambling to his feet. He ran out of the room, leaving behind a shocked silence.
“I was just gonna eat your portion Mike,” Raphael grinned from the table.
“Pancakes my babies, you’re here! Daddy loves ya!” And Michelangelo, happy bordering frantic, ate his pancakes. They were delicious.
As the last one disappeared in his mouth, Leonardo leaned over Mikey’s shoulder to see his plate empty. “Were they good?” he asked.
“D-mmf...” Michelangelo clasped a hand over his full mouth, waving with the other to show he couldn’t talk and then giving a thumb-up.
“That’s good... Are there any left?”
“Nope. Mikey’s chewing on the last one,” Raphael said.
Donatello looked up. “Come to think of it, you went to get Mikey when we started eating. Did you have any? Leo?” he asked.
Leonardo shrugged sadly. Michelangelo swallowed. “Nothing left for you? Too bad. But you know what they say, who hesitates, doesn’t eat,” he grinned.
Donatello raised an eyeridge. “I’m hearing that for the first time.”
“Well it’s true,” Michelangelo said, defending his appetite.
“It’s fine,” Leonardo sighed, “I’ll have cereals.”
Michelangelo stayed at the table a while longer than Raphael and Donatello did, feeling too full and content to try to move. He noticed that Leonardo kept casting glances at him.
“Bro... are you mad that I ate your pancakes?” Leonardo eyed him for a particularly long time.
“No,” he said finally and dug the spoon into his bowl. Michelangelo wasn’t convinced, but he was also far from telling him otherwise. Grunting loudly, he got up and left before Leo changed his mind.
He intended to brush up his drum playing skills before the morning training with master Splinter. It wasn’t even five minutes since he started to tease his drum set when Leonardo came in. Michelangelo smiled broadly at him and put up the best show he could manage to drown out any complaints that Leo might be having. After a while, he got the impression that Leonardo was trying to challenge him in a round of staring contest. At least that’s what he could tell from the intense glare that he was receiving.
Michelangelo was amused. Was Leo trying to make him feel guilty? He was losing his time.
Quarter an hour later, Michelangelo, exhausted and drenched in sweat, gave one final roll and collapsed on top of the drum set.
“Mikey!”
Leonardo’s unsettled call sounded distant and quiet compared to how Michelangelo’s eardrums still vibrated blissfully. So loud. He’d been so loud. He felt like he’d put all of his day’s good-doing into those twenty minutes. Shell, he felt like he’d just had an orgasm. The afterglow was the same.
“Mikey.” Leonardo came behind him and shook him.
“Mmwas good, yes?” Michelangelo mumbled.
“You know there’s a training coming up.”
“Don’t remind me. Uck. I think I might throw up.”
“Let’s get you to the shower.”
“Lead the way Fearless One, I’ll just... drag behind you...”
In the end, he was dragged by Leonardo, and it was Leo too who stripped off his gear, shoved him under the shower and turned on the water.
“Ack!” Michelangelo yelped and flinched away.
“Just wait for it to get warmer,” Leonardo said, feeling the water with his hand. “There. That should do it.” Michelangelo gingerly touched the water stream with one finger, deeming it comfortable enough, and slipped under the shower.
Once his mind became less clouded with pleasure, he noticed that Leonardo was still standing there, two steps away from him. Michelangelo laughed and splashed some water on him. Leonardo moved away quickly and probably didn’t even get wet.
“Ninja of the niiiight,” Michelangelo sang and entertained himself with imitating Raphael’s deep growling voice. Leonardo didn’t bother telling him to stop, instead he leaned on the wall and watched Michelangelo. It was nice being in the centre of attention for once. Usually, Leo had better things to do.
When done, the leader even passed him a towel and helped him dry off his shell. “Mmmm yeah, rub more,” Michelangelo groaned happily. Leonardo did so and awarded Mikey with towel paradise. What for, Michelangelo didn’t know. But he wasn’t going to ask. Not yet anyway.
“Guuys, what’s up?” Michelangelo hollered, coming into the living area. Donatello and Raphael looked at him from where they were stretching. “Guess what! Leo’s been giving me the mother hen treatment the whole morning! He let me play the drums, he put me in the shower, he even rubbed my shell!”
“He let you eat his pancakes,” Raphael added.
“I love it when he gets like that!” Michelangelo exclaimed.
Donatello chuckled. “Sometimes he does that to me too. Especially when I’m overworked.”
“I’d hate to get it. I’m fine with the attention I’ve already got,” Raphael said.
“Not even when I try to be nice?” Leonardo faked surprise.
“Especially when you try to be nice,” Raphael grumbled.
Hours went on, and Michelangelo slowly got enough of basking in Leonardo’s attention. It had been nice but he wanted some time alone as well. He found having the leader’s eyes on him all the time slightly invasive. He disliked the feeling that he was being dissected by his stare. And he was telling him that as soon as he got an opportunity.
After lunch, Michelangelo excused himself to pass out on the sofa. When he woke, Leonardo was naturally sitting in the armchair, snoring discreetly. Michelangelo watched him for a while, curious and puzzled. What was he up to?
“Leo?” Michelangelo said. Leonardo opened his eyes and looked at him.
“Yeah?”
“Why are you following me?”
Leonardo jerked the tiniest bit but Michelangelo saw it. “I’m not following you.”
“Sure ya aren’t. You just happen to have your eyes glued on me.”
“I...” Leonardo’s voice trailed off. He was rethinking strategies, Michelangelo could tell. “I’m sorry, I guess I was lost in thought and I didn’t notice. How long have I been doing it?”
Not the smartest one, Michelangelo thought, but he went with it anyway. “Since you got up early to make pancakes.” Somehow, this seemed to relieve Leonardo. Mikey grew even more curious what was brewing in that guy’s head.
“Does it bother you?”
“Kind of, yeah.”
“In that case, I’ll do my best to give you a cold shoulder and avoid you as much as I can,” Leonardo promised earnestly.
Michelangelo didn’t consider this serious but in the afternoon, he grew convinced that it was. He’d got used to Leonardo’s warm loving attention and now he missed it.
He couldn’t help wondering why Leo’s ways were taking such sharp turns. He understood Leonardo working mothering instincts off on someone who appreciated it, staring at him while lost in thought, and changing strategies when the previous one didn’t work. But he did not understand why all this was happening excessively and at once. Did Leonardo have a problem and didn’t know how to deal with it?
“Hey Leeooooo...” Michelangelo called quietly from his room. He wasn’t expecting to get an answer; after all, he’d been calling for some time now without a reaction. Maybe Leonardo was in his room listening to meditation music. Michelangelo didn’t know. “Leeeooo...” he called again and turned a page of a Silver Sentry comic. “Leeeeeooooo...” he played with the phones like a cat with ball of wool. “Leoleoleleleleo-ooo... Leoooo...”
“For shell’s sake, would you stop calling Leo!” That wasn’t Leo. That was Raph.
“Sorry!” Michelangelo yelled immediately. “Didn’t realise it was bothering you!”
“Well do now,” Raphael growled and retreated back to wherever he came from.
In a few minutes, the sound rolled out of Michelangelo’s chest on its own. “Leeoooo...” He didn’t realise he was calling again until loud footsteps stomped into his room.
“Stop it! I’m telling you, stop it!” Raphael shouted, shaking Michelangelo violently. “If you want to see Leo so badly, go find him!”
Michelangelo blinked Raphael’s spit away. “You don’t know where he is?”
Raphael snorted. “Shell no. He’s been hiding the whole afternoon.”
“Huh? Hiding?”
“I wanted to tell him a thing or two during the midday break. Went to the couch but the two of you were already gone. I looked everywhere, I even asked master Splinter about him. The old guy looked real surprised and told me to tell him when I see him. Wonder where that bootlicker is... anyway! You say Leeeoooo one more time and I’ll use you as a punching bag. Got it? No more Siren playing,” he jabbed a finger into Mikey’s chest.
“I wasn’t playing Siren,” Michelangelo protested but Raphael only waved him off.
“Yeah yeah. Just shut up.” And he left.
Michelangelo wanted to go back to reading but he got distracted quickly. He felt like a cat. Curiosity was killing him.
He sighed. “Wonder what you’re up to Leo,” he thought aloud. Right then, his sixth sense stated clearly: there’s someone here with you. Michelangelo tensed. He listened carefully.
Breathing. It was soft but he could hear it. He was completely sure that it was within his room. It sounded so close but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Are you a ghost?” he asked frightfully.
The breathing disappeared.
“Man, it was a ghost!” Michelangelo shuddered and leaped to his legs. “Better go find Leo before it tries to eat me... Don’t eat me please!” he pleaded quickly before running away.
Just as Raphael said, Leonardo must have been hiding. Michelangelo searched the whole lair and just as he was about to retire, he found Leonardo in front of the TV, watching a documentary film. He was intentionally oblivious to all his questions, and Michelangelo learnt what it felt like when he was pulling the same with Leo. (But of course, he wouldn’t think twice about doing it again. It was too funny to see him go red.) Soon, he gave it up and sat down next to Leonardo, bitching about passing the remote.
There was no end to weird things that day because Leonardo gave him the remote without a word, got up and left.
Michelangelo started thinking that maybe he should have a word with him. Something along the lines of “You were all over me this morning. Now you’re avoiding me like a giant puddle of dung. Tell me why.”
After another period of complete disappearance, Leonardo showed up for dinner. He faced both Michelangelo’s and Raphael’s questions with ice-cold calmness and in a way that was entirely Leo-like, answered nothing while responding to everything. Michelangelo admitted that he was very good with words, whereupon Leonardo smiled and vanished again.
Splinter looked both curious and proud. He seemed just happy that whatever reason Leonardo had to trump them with his stealth, he was doing a good job at it. Michelangelo was growing agitated and Raphael was already pissed. Donatello surveyed the situation with mild interest, and then suggested that they stop trying and let Leo come on his own. To which Raphael replied something that was interrupted in the middle by Splinter’s words to mind his manners.
Yes, Michelangelo thought as he climbed into bed again and settled his shell on the mat, there was something going on with Leonardo. He wanted to know what but he couldn’t find out anything if Leo didn’t talk to him. He’d catch him tomorrow and give him a good interrogation, he promised to himself as his hands went up his plastron to ease the frustration in the most pleasant way he knew.
He stroked the ceratin shield up and down, exploring the texture with his fingertips and tracing the sensitive lines that divided it into six parts. One of his hands travelled down and began doing the same around the inner side of his thigs.
“Mmmm,” Michelangelo mumbled as he spread his legs. He let his smart hand follow the edge of his plastron, slide down on the thick tendons that twitched lightly and circle the area that would know business very soon...
He gasped when he pulled his cock out. Right then, he heard it.
A hiss in the room, that wasn’t his own.
Michelangelo stiffened. Working his hands silently, he listened. The sound didn’t repeat.
Maybe it was safe after all. He continued, allowing himself to moan quietly and then churr.
He wasn’t sure with the moans but he clearly heard another churr sinking into his. It stopped when his did but it was definitely there.
Michelangelo tried to ignore it. The more he did, the clearer he heard it: echo of another voice below him. Somebody was under his bed. This time, Michelangelo was pretty sure it wasn’t a ghost.
It was a stalker.
And the more Michelangelo tried to take his mind away from them, the more he felt their presence. The person was under his bed, listening to him, masturbating with him. Which was the weirdest part. Michelangelo stopped abruptly a few times, trying to catch the stalker off-guard, but they always fell silent a fragment of second after he did. They did nothing to give themselves away. They only made sound when it was covered by Michelangelo’s activity. They were completely stealthy.
Michelangelo has no idea how he’s managed to come.
He’s lying in the warm blankets, breathing softly. He can hear another breathing below him and he knows it isn’t his imagination.
“Hey,” he greets the stalker, thinking about how he should address them. “How’s it going?”
The stalker’s breathing ends. Michelangelo listens for a while and then says: “I know you’re here. You’re under my bed. Stalker,” he adds. He hears the breathing start again.
“You know, it ain’t nice to hide under my bed. Or listen to me jerk off. It kind of creeps me out.”
He can hear that the breathing becomes heavy, as if constricted.
“Or join me for that matter. You’ve got to be one of those deviants that can’t face their wants and stalk people to satiate them.” He touches the cum on his plastron. “Could you pass a hanky please?”
Silence, choked breathing.
“Come on, please? I know you’re there. Don’t make me get up and get it myself. It ruins the afterglow.”
He waits until the stalker throws him a handkerchief. “Thanks,” Michelangelo says and wipes his sperm off. “You’re kinda nice. Sure, you stalk me and that’s like a nightmare come true. Actually, I can’t understand why I’d even begin to think you’re nice.”
He listens to the stalker’s breathing and thinks about the possibilities he now has. He’s got a person in the dark that he can tell anything to. He blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.
“Hey, you mind doing a willow for me?
“It’s cool. I just need to get some thoughts out, is all.
“So listen. My brother, he’s called Leonardo, acted real strange today. I’m not sure what he was thinking but at first he was kinda clingy and then he was kinda distant.
“I don’t get why he behaves this way. It’s weird, you know, a bit like weird that you’re under my bed right now.
“I think that he’s got a problem... that he can’t say out. I think I should talk to him. What do you think?
“Hm, I thought so. You know, stalker? I like Leo a real real lot. Like, he’s kind of special for me. Special special.
“If you see Leo by any chance, can you tell him that I’m really concerned for him?
“Stalker?
“Are you there?”