Balancing eggs and knitting The egg shivered in its silver nest, as if annoyed by the incessant clicking of the needles. It was one of those moments that made Raphael feel like he was boiling from the inside out. His hands worked dexterously around the metal rods, which clattered briskly against the cold walls. And the high-pitched echo, similar to the furious buzzing of a hundred insects, stunned Leonardo's concentration. - I've heard you knit less loudly, murmured the blue-headed turtle with a hint of annoyance. For Leonardo, who had been sitting in this precarious position for almost an hour, this was only the most obvious sign that his brother harbored a desire to take revenge for their situation. - And I've heard you complain less, Raphael retorted with a grunt, bent over his work. Hashi. Somehow, Master Splinter felt they'd both earned it after squabbling over a perilous mission involving the Foot clan, a few seasoned mutants and a hell of a lot of insubordination on Raphael's part. It didn't take a genius to guess how it all went down. If the usual friction between these two didn't usually go beyond the seriousness of their missions, it had to be said that sometimes there was a rift that exposed not only the two of them but also their brothers to complications. And once again, Raphael had disobeyed a direct order from Leonardo. «Fall back ! » the leader had shouted as bullets rained overhead and Bebop charged towards them like a speeding train. Raphael was no coward. He'd had enough of running away and of having the fucking feeling that every one of their actions was of abysmal futility, almost always leaving Shredder the opportunity to gain ground. So, deaf to his elder brother's sonorous indications, he stayed in the fray, dealing out blows and feeling boundless satisfaction every time he heard the crunch of a Foot ninja bones beneath his knuckles. But that was without counting on the unexpected involvement of that mutant rhinoceros who had pounced on Mikey, pinning him against the wall of a container as the docks around them erupted in howling fire, drowning out the younger brother's voice. What followed was a thick mist. Screams, Leonardo pushing Bebop away with the force of desperation and Mikey clutching his arm, his fingers clutching at a gaping wound reddening the ground in a scarlet cascade. Then, in the shelter of the sewers, there was a never-ending cacophony of reproaches. Raphael had even heard the words « egotist, dissident, disgrace to the family, public danger », pass Leo's lips in a confusion of even less complimentary terms. Of course, he'd responded in his usual gruff tone, arguing with all his might that there'd never have been the slightest accident if Mister Perfection had consented to stop being a "huge stiff ass as frozen as his fuckin' ego." Fortunately, Mikey's injury wasn't as bad as it looked, and he got off with a broken arm and some stitches, which he thought would make him more charismatic with April. He always tended to see the positive side in life's worst setbacks. This was undoubtedly due to the fact that he was the youngest, which relieved him of the pressure put on him by his elders and also gave him that naiveté essential to the balance of a team sometimes fragmented in stupid fraternal wars. Like the war that had once again led Raphael to disobey Leonardo. Like the war that led Master Splinter to conclude that these two were now a danger to themselves and to each other if they didn't find a balance soon. - Don't break the balance, the old rat had said. Your failures are the mirror of your relationship. A balanced relationship is only as successful as the reflection you have of each other. And that's why they'd both been sent to the Hashi. Leonardo deployed his muscular legs in a masterful lateral split, his feet resting on two stacks of cinderblocks. Two eggs danced dangerously on pairs of chopsticks he held tightly in each hand, and a third, more impertinent than the other two, adorned his head, which he kept upright to avoid dropping it to the ground. He had become the guardian of three eggs of fragile constitution, frozen in this delicate balance imposed by the Master. As for Raphael, he was knitting. Oh, this wasn't the kind of evening entertainment usually enjoyed by elderly ladies in front of a roaring fire. No, that would have been too easy. Standing on one foot, his toes tightened on the saddle of a child's tricycle, he played with gravity while his hands busied themselves around knitting needles. The little bike seemed to take a malicious pleasure in buckling at every audacious movement on the part of the turtle, who had to accentuate all his remaining concentration to avoid stumbling and sprawling miserably on the ground. And under the combined action of his fingers and the silver needles, a tightly knit red scarf was produced in near-perfect design. Hashi, used as a simulacrum of punishment as much as an educational base, aimed to strengthen team spirit through suffering and self-sacrifice. A skilful blend of disciplined meditation and extreme training, aimed at developing a sense of balance between mind and body. The Master had dropped the word « catharsis » and left them to their fate. Raphael felt it was a waste of time, and if he had to find his own catharsis, his thick knuckles would easily take care of it. As long as he could hit any surface with it and as long as he heard "OUTCH" on contact. That was what made him tick. That and Leo. But right now, Leo and his fucking serene air were driving him crazy. If the Hashi was a real torture for the hothead, Leonardo, unsurprisingly, was getting used to it. He even seemed to enjoy it. The eggs barely trembled on the gleaming chopsticks, mimicking the perfect immobility of the leader's flawless concentration. Raphael's eyes licked his brother's body for a moment, scrutinizing every detail. His golden irises were but a small ship braving the tumultuous waves of Leo's pursed lips, to sail beyond the meanders of his powerful neck studded with sweat droplets of provocative moisture. He deftly followed the moist trail that soaked his olive scales. From there, he traced a brazen path to the base of his clavicles, dominated by biceps whose prominent curvature was reminiscent of the inexorable perfection of an ancient Greek statue. Then he glided insolently over each plate of his pectoral carapace to venture onto the lascivious curve of his protruding thighs concealed beneath thick canvas pants. With a silent moan of frustration, Raphael couldn't help imagining what Leonardo was hiding there. He could see it clearly, as if he were perceiving the world through the rough textile: all those veins interlaced with scars tracing a tortuous path that his own lips had tasted so often he could still feel its touch under his impatient tongue. This path was always full of promise and he had eagerly explored every nook and cranny. Working his way up those thighs, he often found that part tender and flexible, straight, high and powerful. That part with the exhilarating hardness and versatile docility that Leo gave only to himself. This length that brought Raphael to the edge of a bottomless pit whenever the two of them were alone. This impassable, supernatural mountain that had pushed the red-banded turtle to dizzying heights. This buttress, protector of a siphon of exquisite depths that absorbed everything. His soul, his heart, his cock. With a shake of his head, Raphael dismissed these thoughts. It took him yet another effort to tear himself away from the contemplation of this sulfurous image that deigned to provoke him just a few meters away. He did his best to return his attention to his knitting, almost biting his tongue to anchor himself in reality, which was far less glamorous than his fantasies of the moment. He and Leonardo had had a fight, they were being punished and that was the only possible reality. Easier said than done, though. The mere sight of his brother had set off a fire in his lower belly, and he knew inwardly that the slightest word, the slightest twitch, the slightest breath, from the leader would lead to an unleashing of everything he was trying to hold back. So he let out a barely suppressed growl, his fingers curling around the woolen mesh. He felt as if he'd been there so long that yards and yards of red fabric lay at his feet, in a scarf so long it could have wrapped them both at least three times over. Both of them. Their bodies intertwined in a mess of their own sweat, draped in a mixture of textiles and fluids. Shit, he thought, his lips curling instinctively into an embarrassed sneer. It was probably because they hadn't made love for a few days, or because he needed to release the tension of the last few hours, but Raphael was completely unable to keep his concentration. His facetious thoughts kept bringing him back to Leo. He chanced a glance at him. What could he be thinking right now? Bickering was part of their daily routine. It was even what they thrived on. In a unique way, that was the paradox of their relationship: as close in private as they were antagonistic in the open. If patrols with their spray of rivalry seemed to leave indelible scars on their relationship, they played an altogether different symphony in the darkness of their bedroom. A show behind closed doors, a private performance that Leo consented to play for Raphael, in unique notes meant for him. So why does he bust my balls half the time ?, the hothead grumbled inwardly. Since they'd been at the Hashi, Leonardo hadn't deigned to engage in any real discussion. Raphael wasn't the loquacious type, but the leader was, as a rule, a little more talkative. This time, however, his attractive lips remained closed, and that's what drove Raphael completely mad. He wished Leo would scream at him, reproach him a thousand times. An explosion. Anything, as long as in the end they could settle it by fucking ferociously, as they always did when they made up. But this silent treatment was more than the red-headed turtle could bear. That and the stupid grin on his stupid face. "CHLIIIIIiiiIiiIIng". The two knitting needles rolled across the stony floor, soon followed by the thud of Raphael's feet as he left his rickety pedestal. The little tricycle rolled away discreetly, creaking as if grumbling to itself. What's the point of all this bullshit? Hashi never helped. Knitting never helped. No, what was needed was a real talk with Fearless. To talk about what had happened, to break the stubborn silence that was tugging at his guts, to get closer to that desirable body that was holding his balls hostage. Destroy this insurmountable tension by any means necessary. Talk? No. Not talk. His thoughts were filling up with holes. A few snatches formed random words as he was carried along by his body and his brain slowly took a back seat. Raphael took a few staggering steps, his muscles slightly aching from the effort, then planted himself in front of Leonardo, arms crossed. Leonardo did not move, fixed in his impassive immobility that made him look as if he were made of marble. His blue eyes were closed in the emerald texture of his eyelids, but the hothead knew that Leo felt him close. He could play this little game for hours, ignoring his little brother under the pretext of the importance of his meditative trance. But Raphael's patience had reached its limit, already marred by the last hour spent knitting in a silence even denser than his own skull. He raised a hand to the egg balanced on Leo's bald head. - Don't touch it. The leader's voice bounced off Raphael's skin like a satisfying hug. He'd made him react, and it was almost exhilarating. - Oh, you're afraid I'm going to be too hard on his fragile little shell? replied Raph with a wry smile, grabbing the egg in the process. Of course, Leonardo hadn't expected his little brother to obey anyway. He simply opened his eyes, revealing his deep blue irises. - In case you've forgotten, we're at the Hashi, Raph. And Father... - ... and Father isn't here, interrupted the red-headed turtle, turning the egg in his palm with unparalleled dexterity. Besides, nobody's here. He had uttered this last sentence with a hint of sensuality, anchoring his golden eyes in Leo's. It was a clear message. It was a signal he'd sent so many times, and it always preceded the lustful moment that gave his daily life a passionate edge. Leo, of course, had received the missive. It couldn't have been clearer than if Raphael had wrapped it in pretty gift wrap with a glittering ribbon. - If you're expecting us to make up on the pillow, you're barking up the wrong tree. And that message, too, couldn't have been clearer. Leonardo had not lost his temper. - No, that's not what I was hoping for, Raphael lied, carelessly juggling the egg between his rough fingers. It was only a long, disillusioned sigh that hit Leo's teeth. The next moment, he had straightened to his full height, placing the two remaining eggs safely at the foot of the pile of cinder blocks that had valiantly supported his weight for almost an hour. - So what? You want to talk?, The leader's voice was a shard of ice as he tried in vain to retrieve his egg, which Raphael kept out of reach with a mocking smile. This was far too much fun for the stubborn turtle, who took guilty pleasure in embarrassing his older brother. - Be careful with that, damn it, growled Leonardo. If you break it, Father will know we've interrupted our punishment. Typical Splinter Junior... - Oh no, and what will he do next ? Put us in frilly aprons and force us to bake muffins all day ? Oh shit, I'm scared. Most of Raphael's defense consisted in adopting a sarcastic and greatly exaggerated tone, which twisted his brother's ears whenever he spoke in such a theatrical manner. Master Splinter was no slouch when it came to punishing his sons for their bad behavior, and although Raphael seemed to want to play hard to get, he couldn't deny that the old rat often showed creativity and a touch of rudeness when it came to instilling certain lessons in them. But this was too good an opportunity to enrage Leonardo. He HAD to enrage Leonardo. - You should take these punishments more seriously, replied the leader in an exasperated voice, his blue eyes following the perilous trajectory of the egg which was now performing acrobatic leaps between Raphael's hands, twirling from one to the other in a most graceful aerial ballet. - These punishments are absurd, spat the mouth of the turtle with the red headband. - These punishments aren't absurd. We're here because this mission was a disaster. We're here because Mikey got hurt. A tremolo. Slight. A twitch. Almost imperceptible. And there it is. That dull anger hidden under a ton of varnish, under an even more mind-boggling number of hours of meditation, aimed at making everyone forget that he too had the right to feel emotions. A crack in the marble of his pious discipline that had just set the silence ablaze in a fraction of a second, filling the whole space. The real Leonardo was revealed in a crash that only Raphael's trained hearing could discern. The real Leonardo beneath the mask of the impassive leader. The one Raphael had seen defenseless in the hollow of his bed. The one Raphael had embraced in the most intimate confessions of their lives. The one who so often evaded the stubborn turtle's golden gaze that he sometimes disappeared under the unspeakable weight of the role he had to assume. Raphael allowed himself a smile, he was jubilant. Now it could begin. - Mikey survived, he's fine. The nonchalance with which Raphael had just answered brought the blood to Leonardo's face. He clenched his fist briefly in an effort to contain himself and maintain his self-control. But if the leader had been an egg at that precise moment, he would have been a hard-boiled egg, so bubbling did he seem from within. - But he could have died, he vociferated through half-clenched teeth. Your own impertinence and stupid refusal to obey the slightest plan could have led us to consequences your hard little head isn't even capable of considering! We could have... - We could have. But we didn't. The egg rolled all the way down Raphael's biceps, did a salto when it reached elbow level and was caught in mid-air by the turtle. - Don't play with me, Raphael, said Leo, sharpening his every word like the cutting edge of his katanas. His nostrils twitched subtly in silent anger, accentuated by the stunt egg's antics. - All I'm saying is that you can remake the world with "could haves". It could have happened this way, or it could have happened that way, replied Raph, his eyes fixed on his juggling act. - It's called anticipation. Something you obviously lack, little brother. Leo's voice was like an icy slap in the face, the abrupt wind of December. The immediate effect was to send Raphael into a frenzy. Cradling the egg in the palm of his left hand, he crushed his index finger to Leonardo's chest. - See, that's exactly what I'm blaming you for, barked the stubborn turtle. - What's that? You're blaming me for being cautious?, exclaimed Leo as if he couldn't believe his ears. - I blame you for being lax because you're afraid of the thousands of scenarios that may or may not have gone wrong! I reproach you for being such a coward that our constant idleness is rolling out the red carpet for our enemies! While they're getting tougher every day, we're running like rabbits, giving them more and more ground. Leonardo's upper lip was twitching nervously, and judging by the way he looked, his biceps tense, the veins in his neck throbbing with a brutal heartbeat, it was clear that the arguments had struck a chord. He almost looked like a giant teapot about to spout incandescent steam. - We're preventing them from doing any harm, he burst out like the fiery blast of a cannonball. Do I need to remind you of all the weapons warehouses and clandestine laboratories we've destroyed in the last month alone? Or, I don't know, maybe I imagined them? - Yeah, well done, little leader, smiles Raphael cynically. If we're as efficient as you say we are, explain to me why it seems there are always more of them? We should be kicking their asses for good, instead of running away with our tails between our legs at the first sign of trouble! - We're not running. It's a strategic retreat, Leo hissed through his teeth. - We're running. Raphael's resolute tone soon gave the already electric atmosphere the final spark it needed to push Leo over the edge. A speech the stubborn turtle had heard so many times he could have quoted it by heart, his mouth stretching out in silent words like Leo's personal ventriloquist. - You call it what you like. All I'm trying to do is protect you all. It's my duty as the leader of this family, and you've no idea how much pressure that is! If Raphael's finger could have sunk even deeper into Leonardo's chest, it would have reached his heart as much as the words he was about to utter now. - Don't serve me that soup. I've got a bellyful. Pressure's bullshit. You think you have to handle everything on your own because you have this leadership role, but if one of us suffers, then we all have to suffer the consequences. Not just you. And I wish your little ego would come out of its shell once in a while just so you'd understand that you're not alone, Leo! The silence that followed was massive. A hammer blow to the chest. - Give me back my egg. The egg. Raphael had expected endless invective. He'd prepared himself for moral lessons on the need to be alone in command, to be careful together, to act in the common interest and all those confusing things Leo always said at the climax of their bickering. But the egg?! It was almost laughable. For a split second, the stubborn turtle had even forgotten the existence of that stupid egg he always held in his hand. This realization struck him without reluctance as he realized that the leader was in fact asking to break off their dialogue - if we can call it a dialogue -, to resume the course of their punishment. Raphael shook his head. If Leo wanted to act this way in front of Donnie or Mikey to continue playing the role of the perfect little obedient leader, VERY WELL! But not with him. - Here it is, your stupid egg. With a disapproving grunt, he consented to hand his the little oval shell nestled in the hollow of his rough palm. Without an ounce of hesitation, Leo's hand seized it and he immediately went to put it away with the other two, just in case Raphael suddenly decided to add more guinea pigs to his juggling skills. But the red turtle did nothing of the sort. Instead, he watched his older brother, an idea germinating in his head. Did he want to obey Dad? Very well, that's what they were going to do. It was perhaps the most ambitious idea he'd had in a while, but no sooner had it crossed his mind than an arrogant sneer instinctively crossed his face. He was like a child unable to show the slightest restraint when it came to victory. Because in his mind, it was obvious that he was going to win. And this sudden elation didn't escape Leo's notice. Fearless's blue irises were like shurikens, sifting through his little brother's tall stature. - What's the matter with you?, muttered the latter suspiciously. - Splinter said we should try to understand each other, to be a kind of reflection of each other, replied Raphael in a coquettish tone. Leonardo heaved a deep sigh, crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. It smelled like a setup. - More or less. What's your point? Without even bothering to answer his brother, Raphael slid his massive frame over to the pile of scarlet wool lying carelessly on the stony floor. It was a beautiful piece of knitting. A long scarf with flowing, airy stitches that gave the impression of a little red snake coiled in on itself. But wool, in contact with the skin, had this annoying tendency to itch. Raphael carefully grasped the fabric and pulled out the needles. - So you see, Leo... I was thinking that maybe you could get inside my skin. And I into yours. The leader opened his mouth in muffled protest and closed it again for lack of adequate words. Whatever was going on in the hothead's sinuous mind, he was about to find out. Raphael had returned to his side, the fabric moving between his thick fingers like a reddish stream. - Maybe it's time to show my big brother how heavy it is to have him on your back, Raphael murmured. Leo's breath caught in his throat as Raphael slid the long scarf behind his neck, just between his cervical spine and his carapace. And then, with a subtle gesture, the red turtle brought the leader's dismayed face closer to his own, pulling on the ends of the fabric. The first thing Leo felt was the light breeze of his brother's familiar breath against his skin. The musky, lemony scent tickled his nostrils, filling them with the biting aroma he knew by heart from breathing it in nights on end. Delicate. Tasty. But Leonardo's face quickly twisted into an irritated pout as he felt the acrid sting of wool on his neck. - Unpleasant, isn't it ?, whispered Raphael. And yet, it’s necessary to protect yourself from the cold. But when you're not used to it, it stings. A bit like you... He was right, the wool did scratch the tender scales on his neck, but it was bearable. Leo didn't complain. His conscience had just been struck by the evidence of this situation: his brother had tricked him. How cunning Raphael could be when he had an even more cunning idea! In this intoxicating proximity, the leader could only admire his brother's relentless determination to turn any situation to his advantage. And that attractive mouth, muzzled by that bewitching scar, soon destroyed Fearless's last vestiges of resistance. Leo tried, in vain, to summon up what remained of his leadership dignity, but realized that he was slowly but surely melting under the glare of Raphael's golden irises. So he looked away and laughed. - You're impossible... - Don't tell me you don't like it, Raphael breathed, sliding his index finger under his chin to bring his ocean-blue eyes back to him. - I'm still angry with you, said Leo. - Then allow me to apologize, Raphael replied half-heartedly. - You never apologize, smiled Leo, knowing full well the way his little brother wanted to make amends. It was perfectly cheesy, but the plan had worked beyond Raphael's wildest hopes. He fixed his whole gaze, his whole soul, his whole heart on his brother, like an addiction, a necessary oxygen for all living things. He could feel Leo's heavy breathing, words of supplication. A bubble had inevitably formed around them, drawing them into what was to be a moment of pure ecstasy. And the turtle with the red headband was about to apologize without uttering a single word. Nothing but the sensations of their two beings at the epicenter of their little world. Leo's favorite apology. Raphael leaned toward his brother, capturing his lips in an enticing kiss that he broke almost instantly. Too short. Just enough to make him long for more. And Leo's response was not long in coming. That voice emanating from his half-closed lips was an appeal. - You'll have to be more convincing... This was the signal Raphael had been waiting for. And in a movement repeated hundreds of times, he grabbed his brother's hips and pulled him to him, pressing his mouth to his own. Passionate kiss. Exalted caresses of his fingertips along the curve of Leonardo's hips. The leader's lips held his, his own hands sliding down Raphael's neck, roaming over his collarbone, enjoying the place that marked the birth of his pectoral carapace. Then their tongues met, rolling against each other like teenagers in a field of fresh grass. They didn't breathe, they didn't need to. They were for each other, and that was all that mattered. A thud indicated that Leonardo's shell had hit the wall behind him. Raphael became more enterprising, his fiery mouth exploring his brother's with impetuous fury. - Don't... touch... the... eggs..., Leo managed to articulate between mouthfuls. This sentence seemed so absurd to Raphael that his golden eyes wandered to the eggs resting a few centimeters from his feet. And the fucking idea would never have occurred to him if Leo had simply kept quiet. It was always like that, Raphael's spirit of contradiction dominated every part of his being when it came to the leader. - Is that what you're talking about ?, he said provocatively, grabbing one of the eggs and waving it under Leo's nose. - Precisely, replied Fearless in a slightly breathless voice. - Then you'll have to come and get it... It was a stroke of genius. Raphael inwardly congratulated himself on this brilliant idea as a sinister crack sounded against the wall. He had broken the fragile shell of the little egg. A wide crack lined the hard exterior of his makeshift armor, which would obviously soon see its slimy heart spill out. Raphael opened his mouth. With one last deft squeeze, he released the contents of the egg, which crashed onto his tongue, the perfectly round yolk still intact and glistening between his teeth. Leo's eyes widened. Raphael was leering at him with his arrogantly tinted irises. Try it. Appetizing. Inviting. That smooth yellow, lost in that ocean of thick white, simply resting on Raphael's tongue. The hiccup of surprise that died in Leo's esophagus was ear candy, shamelessly betraying the desire that had just struck him. The desire to devour his little brother's mouth. Raphael found it hard not to laugh at the leader's expression and, as he had done earlier, clutched at the woollen scarf that still adorned his neck, pulling him close. Leonardo's tongue inserted itself into the cavity, seeking Raphael's as much as the egg, which evaded movement in its viscosity. The ingredient slid from one edge to the other of the red-banded turtle's oral partitions, making Leo's movements more desperate, trying to reach it at all costs. Raphael reveled in the delight of the appendage crashing against his own in a merciless struggle for dominance. The texture of their two tongues mixed with that of egg whites gave their little game a whole new flavor. Two titans battling for power, fighting for golden treasure, making the earth tremble with desire beneath their touch. Then a slightly sweet taste invaded their taste buds like a tsunami, leaving no doubt that the yolk had surrendered, scattering its delicate juices at the heart of their passionate encounter. A slurry of tongues, dragged the beaten egg between their walls, between their teeth, between their mutual adoration. Their jerky breaths gave just enough respite for the yellowish substance to make its way out of its wet prison, dripping down their respective chins after a hard internal battle. When they broke their kiss, a trickle of drool mixed with the sacred ingredient still bound them together. A slimy bridge between their blissful smiles and their eyes, which were definitely anchored in each other, demanding more. They didn't need to talk. They never had to. Their hands caressed and Raphael felt his own throbbing hardness hitting the textile of his boxers, waiting to be handed the keys to his fabric cage. Their hands explored each other as they always did. The hothead's fingers dug into Leo's bewitching scales, instinctively tracing the contours of his tattoo. He studied it carefully, like a sculptor bent over his masterpiece. He followed every line of every scar, dragging his palms over every curve in exquisite languor. Then came the unmistakable zip of a zipper coming undone. And soon, their erections were uncovered, throbbing between their sweat-fogged carapaces, the exalted penis waiting to be tasted. Raphael licked his lips. He loved Leo's cock. Long, thick, made for his hand, made for his mouth. Made for me. It was perfection. The centerpiece of a more complex art with contours defined in lust. Suddenly, the leader clung to his, his hand beginning to pump him. Raph bit his lip and had to catch himself on the wall in front of him, surprised by Leo's sudden intention to be more impatient. He let out a sonorous moan as the nimble fingers exerted the perfect pressure on him, in that perfect movement that made him harden even more. Slow, intense. He could feel Leo's cock next to his, when his slightly too haphazard hip movements made him push against him. His hand slid in blindly, reaching for the leader's shaft. There was no reason why he should be the only one to benefit. But Leo shied away from the gesture and teasingly released the hungry member. This left Raphael with a taste of unfinished business, and he immediately shot his brother an incensed look for jerking him off without satisfying him. - I think I need to remind you why we're here in the first place, Leo said. Raphael couldn't believe his ears. Was his brother really telling him about their punishment? At a time like this?! Leonardo bent down to pick up one of the two remaining eggs. - Father told us about balance. The turtle with the red headband gave an irritated grunt. - You can't be serious ?, growled Raphael, who was beginning to wonder if Leo wasn't trying to teach him some kind of stupid lesson. - Don't upset the balance... And now he was quoting Splinter! What the hell was wrong with him? Raphael was about to unleash a cynical phrase of his own, something perfectly sharp, when he was interrupted by Leo kneeling before him. He swallowed his venom just in time to see the leader position himself right in front of his straining cock. - What are you..., began Raph before Leo cut him off with an authoritative "shhhh". - All you have to do is not break... the balance. Leo's breath against his member was unbearable. But still less unbearable than the cheeky little smile that stretched the leader's scales. Raphael was the one who acted, and he hated waiting to be cooked without knowing what sauce he was going to be eaten with. And for the moment, he didn't know how appropriate the metaphor would prove to be to the situation. At least, not until Leonardo agreed to make the first move, brandishing the egg and placing it inches from his erection. He pushed his thumbs into the little shell, opening it in two, and let the duo of yellow and transparent spill over the hothead's penis. It was cold. Raphael took a step backwards. - Don't move..., Leo stopped him. The egg was whole and trembling on his cock in a fragile equilibrium, quivering to the pulse of Raphael's veins. It almost looked like it was dancing, moving with its own will. But the turtle's erection was unstable, and the ingredient began to slide gently toward his pelvis in an icy, unpleasant trail. Raphael was about to protest when suddenly, with infinite tenderness, a gentle warmth enveloped the head of his member. The familiar sensation of moist, feisty cotton resting on him, sending shivers of pleasure straight down his spine. Leonardo wrapped his warm mouth around his cock, subtly correcting the erratic trajectory of the exploratory egg, which stabilized midway. So this is how you want to play? Perfect. I'll take it. The leader's eager mouth was a hug. And Raphael was getting drunk, intoxicated by that hypnotic wetness at the tip of his prominence. An overwhelming rush of pure arousal coursed through his body, a veritable beam of electricity that froze his breathing for an eternity. But Leo remained unperturbed. His expert mouth was the catalyst for so much pleasure that deep down, Raphael knew he had to let him do it all. So he became a spectator, letting him work in his own dexterous and rigorous way. Raphael noticed that Leonardo was taking great care not to disturb the sleep of the dissident egg still poised in the middle of his cock, and it was as frustrating as it was fascinating. He wanted more. He wanted to bury himself whole, fill his mouth with him. In many ways, Raph felt like the toast Leonardo was greedily devouring. But his older brother seemed to be enjoying himself far too much for him to consider interfering for a single second. Then, strangely enough, the paradox between the fresh texture of the egg and the addictive warmth of that thick tongue finally got the better of Raphael's last vestiges of consciousness. The heat rising from the hollow of his loins and becoming more vivacious left no doubt. A wildfire of incandescent properties paralyzed him, accelerating his heartbeat in the process. - Oh sh..., stammered Raphael in a strangled tone. His voice was lost somewhere deep in his glottis, betraying all the efforts he was making to prevent himself from groaning completely. His mind was tortured and somewhat pierced, but he harbored this vague idea that he had to keep a straight face and that, somehow, he refused to give Leo the satisfaction of seeing him moan at his sordid little game. But already, Leo was smiling as he heard Raphael's cooing and the way he was desperately trying to hide this pleasure he was feeling. He continued to suck him, occasionally using his tongue to graze the sensitive head. Raph held onto the wall with one hand, his other hand on the nape of Leo's neck gently, without constraining him. Silent communication, eloquent, obvious. He was letting him know that he liked what he was doing to him. Leo was in charge, holding his pleasure hostage with his mouth, and he was diligent about it, as he was diligent about everything he did. His tongue curled, tightened and loosened around his tip, plunging him down paths strewn with euphoria, ever more tortuous. He had placed two fingers under his taut cock as if to hold it properly in his mouth, without disturbing the ingredient that lined its surface. This gave him the strange air of taking tea. Raphael was amused by this image for a second, but his distraction was erased by another well-placed lick that made him hiccup slightly. And the more Fearless worked, the more his hungry lips gnawed at his cock, nibbling its way down to the egg, which trembled in on itself, as if it already knew the throes of its doomed fate. The egg was still there. A tireless little yellow soldier, standing on its bridge of flesh and veins, awaiting its inevitable end as Leo brought his lips together. And Raphael was enjoying the show without moving, happily indulging in this cute little balancing act. The way Leonardo seemed to hold the egg in uncommon gravity was like art. A painting. A real work of art. And the artist was talented. Fuck, he's going to kill me here... In a back-and-forth motion that gained ever more territory, Leo's mouth now dominated nearly half of his cock. Slow. Meticulous. He reveled in him like a bear on honey. Raphael tried hard not to moan too loudly, keeping his lips sealed in a controlled rattle. It was as if his entire reality had just collided with an infinite amount of debris from his own fantasies. And he clung tightly to his reality, anchoring his golden irises in Leo's blue eyes, which were scrutinizing him intently from his workstation. From his vantage point, he could almost make out his brother's facetious smile behind his thick stem. And in one last bold gesture, Fearless's tongue swept away the egg soldier's last defenses, triumphing over him without mercy. The yellow ball exploded from his lips, coating and deliberately ruining Raphael's member, which was soon engulfed in its viscous texture. Small sounds of satisfaction rolled from Leonardo's throat. Raphael shivered violently, caught between two paradoxical sensations. The slimy, cold constitution of the egg was a torment, but at the same time his brother's warm saliva around his cock brought boundless comfort. Leo smiled against Raph's sex and took it deeper into his mouth, sucking noisily. He teased the sensitive skin beneath his glans, making sure to add extra suction just to annoy him. He knew how to push his buttons. Raphael's member was hardening visibly, its massive thickness pulsing furiously between his big brother's teeth, forcing him to open his mouth wider. Crushing. Powerful. Insurmountable. - Damn it, Leo. Raph groaned as he felt his whole body tense under his brother's ministrations. - You know I can't resist when you do that, he admitted reluctantly his hips thrusting slightly into Leo's mouth. A small but audible gasp escaped from Raph's mouth. He could feel himself getting even wetter between Leo's lips, releasing quantities of precum in impressive bursts. It felt so good, the sensation of his whole shaft about to release was exhilarating. His legs were turning to cotton as his member expanded, throbbing beneath his bulging veins. He tried to hold back his moans, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. His flanks began to rise instinctively, burying his length deeper in his brother's oral moisture. And Leo continued his magic, indifferent to the egg spilling over his tongue as his brother filled him with his hardness. The ingredient dripped down his chin in such a mess that it was hard to distinguish precum from egg white. And Fearless let the fluids flow, using them to pump it out of his hand as he continued to play with his tongue. There was no question of being harnessed only to the tip anymore. And Raphael felt himself twitch, overwhelmed by the pleasure of that demanding tongue along his shaft. He was like a fucking magician. An artist. In this jumble of invasive thoughts, Raphael's mind wandered for a moment and he made the amusing reflection that Donnie would surely have had something clever and completely inappropriate to say about this situation. He could already hear his little brother's pinched voice declaiming his knowledge like an overdone machine. "Did you know that Leonardo Da Vinci used to add eggs to his paint to alter its viscosity?" And Raphael suppressed a smile, for perhaps that was exactly what Leo had just done with him. A living work of art. And the sculptor worked with ease, bent over the still raw piece of marble. Under his fingers, Raphael's tough member became even harder, delivering its sweet transparent nectar. The stubborn turtle was only an imperfect sketch, gradually taking shape under the combined action of Leo's thick tongue and fingers. Raph thrust his hips forward in an insatiable reflex, feeling himself wobble all over. His stem, as hard as marble, was experiencing a second birth under the chisel of an artist determined to give the best of his art. A deluge of fluids flowed from its tail, its limb drenched with egg and precum that Leo drank from. The aggressive turtle grabbed the back of the leader's head, holding him close to feel his tongue dance over his sensitive cock and balls. He arched his back under the contact and then felt the softness of Leo's left hand come to rest on his hip, clinging to it, the red woollen knit, which he hadn't taken off since the beginning, accompanying him in the movement, delicately wrapped around his arm. Raphael felt more alive than ever. His golden eyes gazed into Leo's, who himself kept his blue gaze fixed relentlessly on him. And the sight made his cock twitch. Maybe it was because of the intrusive thought about Donnie, or maybe it was because the leader wasn't making those usual noises the red-banded turtle loved so much, but Raphael slowly began to come out of his state of arousal. Something was different. Something was wrong. Then it hit him like a truck at full speed. If Leonardo was clutching his hip with one hand and pumping him with the other, it meant he was the only one taking pleasure. The leader wasn't masturbating, and from where he was, Raphael could notice his older brother's intact erection, throbbing and needy. This caught him off guard to such an extent that, despite an almost palpable climax, he placed his hand under Fearless's chin to stop his movement. - And you...?, he asked in a hushed voice, realizing at the same time the feat he'd just accomplished in preventing himself from cumming. Leo made a casual movement with his hand, as if he didn't care. - It's not important, he said. It's you I care about. Raphael forced himself to breathe more or less normally as his consciousness split and fought an internal battle. He wanted to cum, his whole body was crying out for it, demanding immediate release. But at the same time, he harbored every scruple in the universe about leaving his brother in this state of unsatisfactory expectation. The pain in his groin became throbbing, his erection seemed to howl with all its might. But for Leo's sake, Raphael could endure the dull protest of his balls. He leaned towards his brother, one hand resting on his pectoral carapace, and murmured. - Someone once told me: « You never walk alone. We walk as one. » - Since when do you listen to anything I say?, grinned Leo. - Shut up and lie down, Fearless. With a chuckle, Leonardo lay down on the floor. Now it's my turn to make a work of art out of you. Raphael floated above his brother, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue as if he were about to taste a most exquisite delicacy. He kept his mouth a few centimetres from Leonardo's, savouring his breath in his wide-open nostrils. There was something soothing about being there, dominating him with a certain firmness. And the leader's eyes were squinting in breathless, almost unbearable anticipation. Raphael plunged his head into his powerful neck, rushing his tongue against his brother's sweat, licking every drop with growing hunger. He felt Leo tilt his head to give him free rein. But Raphael had other plans. A perfect oval. The last ingredient in their little game. The last egg. There it was, right next to him, and all he had to do was reach out and grab it. The little shell seemed so delicate under his strong grip. With a swift movement, he cracked the egg around the angular perimeter of its own shell. A small crack. And then he poured the pasty contents onto Fearless's torso. The egg remained there, nestled between two plates of his pectoral armor as if in a makeshift nest. - I'm not a grill, Leonardo gasped. - Oh? I was just going to ask you if you wanted it well-done or medium-rare. They replied with amused smiles. Raphael scrutinized his brother for a moment, his golden eyes roaming over his body, capturing every detail of his anatomy. He knew every inch of him, every scar, every scale. And yet, nothing ever spoiled the pleasure of rediscovering him every time. Without hesitation, his rough hands traced the outer contour of his pectoral carapace where his hips began. He ran his fingers along this tender area, Leo's breathing deepening at the touch. Raphael's thoughts anchored themselves in the marble of the leader's body, his gaze gazing with delight at the cracks, vestiges of his endless struggles and dazzling battles. He ran his thumb over the dark outline of his tattoos, adorning a bicep that looked as if it had been carved from the most precious material. He brushed against the perfection of its scales, chiseled in excellence. He embraced Leonardo's emerald splendor as one embraces the magnificence of a demigod. Oh hell, he could have been drawn a thousand times over and no artist, no matter how talented, could ever have transcribed the majestic aestheticism of his curves sculpted from the divine. Before him, Leonardo was breathtakingly pure. A blank canvas he would soon take possession of, painting him with his substance in a palette of blinding pearly white. Then Raphael's tongue crawled out of its cavity, fastening itself without regard to this sublime body that claimed him. He tasted the sensitive skin of the clavicle adorned with sweat. He wandered further south to linger languorously on the pectoral carapace, shamelessly tracing a path of saliva. He dotted his hips with erratic kisses interspersed with affectionate nibbles. He continued inexorably down towards the pulsating mountain below. He was a lost traveler in a world of splendor. He crossed paths with the unfortunate egg, which crackled under his teeth for a moment before spilling out all around him. The yellow mingled with its limpid white, rolled in its own viscosity, coating Leo's torso like a delicate varnish. And under the flickering neon light, the turtle with the blue headband looked like an unfinished abstract canvas. It was beautiful. But not enough. So the intrepid ingredient didn't stop there. In its mad race against gravity, it flowed much further down, to the base of the leader's rigid stem, which shivered at the unexpected cold contact. Gelatinous droplets were lost between his balls, littering his hole, which throbbed with anticipation. And Leo opened his thighs. His eyes half-closed, his lips slightly open, taking in every last drop of oxygen to fill the void left by his excitement, he scrutinized Raphael. And the way he looked at him in that lascivious position, his blue eyes imbued with envy, the egg running down his chin, chest and sex, the red woollen scarf draped around him... ...it was fucking sexy. A sublime tableau frozen in this bubble of eternity. At the sight of his brother completely exposed, Raphael felt himself becoming even harder. His thoughts were now a confused whirlpool with no beginning and no end. He slipped a firm hand around Leo's demanding cock. Drawing on the depths of his willpower to keep from being carried away by his own desire to end it all right away, he began a slow, languorous movement. He ran his fingers along the vertiginous shaft. His own prominence was still leaking a few drops of precum that went crashing against his brother's already egg-stained balls. He did his best not to pay attention. He wanted to make sure the leader had the best possible experience. He'd become the architect of the pleasure he'd build for him. Only for him. He would shape it, sculpting that shaft, massaging it as if it were delicate pottery he had to mold. The hard, fragile limb he was sculpting in all its height, in all its thickness, and every pressure of his three fingers around it drew an exalted sigh from his brother. It was a breathtaking sight. That splendid rod was growing firmer in his hand, as his gestures became fuller. Leo's jerky breathing accompanied the rhythm, his hips pounding in a growing hunger. And that intoxicating hardness throbbed furiously, the veins dotting it seeming on the verge of bursting. The hothead bit his lip at this exacerbated protuberance in his hand, every detail of which he could feel, imbuing it with total satisfaction at the idea that Leo loved what he was doing to him. When Raphael felt that the leader's erection had reached its peak, he carefully unrolled his hand. It was time to prepare him. He placed his moist lips on Leo's erect cock, offering a path of kisses that lingered on his balls. He licked them with a wry smile, enjoying the harmonious relief of those delectable fruits he could suck with the tip of his lips. However, he didn't dawdle. He followed the path traced by the egg's drool, which seemed to point the way as much as a huge luminous sign could. That inviting little hole. Raphael's nostrils caught Leonardo's sour musk. The magnetic scent sounded like a promise, a request, a call, a summons. Then the hothead began to work meticulously, his tongue tracing circles around Leo's entrance. The first circle caused his brother's body to twitch in short bursts. The second circle produced a deep rumble similar to the rumble of thunder. The third circle gave way to a throaty squeak that encouraged the red-banded turtle to go further. Leo was already anticipating and Raphael continued his efforts, now teasing the hole with the tip of his coaxing tongue. He tasted his brother in that frenzy of flavors he already knew, mixed with the more bitter one of egg. And it was new. And it was strange. And it wasn't bad. Leo's toes contracted, almost scraping the ground as Raphael drove his tongue deeper into the abyss, licking and opening his brother inch by inch. Feeling Fearless's body tense under his ministrations made him groan, urging him to enter deeper into that tight hole that was getting wetter by the second. Raphael carefully prepared his color chart. It was his masterpiece. His creation. Everything would be perfect. The cavity quivered, visibly bothered by this unexpected intrusion. And the tough turtle was taking pleasure in pacing this obscure path with its pronounced taste. Leo's voice occasionally pierced the silence of their lovemaking, revealing high-pitched tones of varied range that he kept only for Raphael. And Raphael cherished the sounds he made, for Leonardo was not usually the demonstrative type. This was a gift, just for him. A fucking privilege he deigned to grant him, and one that made Raphael feel like the luckiest creature on the whole damn planet. The fusion of this register of hoarse sounds and lighter rasps was a heady melody that made Raphael, whose muzzle was buried almost entirely in his brother's eager hole, harden even more. His deft tongue rolled inside, darting against all the tepid walls then sliding in and out of Leo's ass, stretching the puckered opening. It wasn't until he felt the pressure of those muscular legs against his shoulders that Raph realized his brother was letting him know he was more than ready to receive him. In fact, he'd known it for a few moments already, but the smell of that musk was almost so addictive to him, he'd allowed himself to lose himself for just one more second. Just one more second in his world. Nostrils flaring, he took one last vital breath and then straightened up. And that's when he met Leo's intense gaze. His brother was leering at him, his mouth stretched into a smile of obvious lightness. From where he stood, Raphael could hear his hurried breathing chattering through his teeth. From where he was, Raphael could easily perceive the gleam of desire shining in his ocean-blue eyes. His canvas was ready. Leo... Irresistible... fucking... fucking sexy. Raphael's thoughts no longer emitted coherent sentences. He thought in random words. Sliding his hands under Leo's thighs, he aligned himself in the right axis, rubbing his length against the entrance before beginning a slow but powerful thrust. Oh shit... Nothing in the world could rival that exhilarating sensation of burying himself in that tight wetness, coating his cock in warm fuzz. No sooner had he entered, than a convulsion climbed from the base of his hips and spread down his body in a jolt that made him let out a grunt. He stepped back slightly, letting his tip slide over the entrance before stepping back inside. Leo was still so tight. And so hot. And so their feverish dance began. As Raphael's thick glans pressed against Leo's tight ring of muscles, the latter gave way, stretching to let him make his way inside. The two turtles made deep, primitive cooing sounds as Raph came to impale himself on Leo's tight channel. The leader triumphantly welcomed his brother's ride. It wasn't just about sex, it was much more than that. It was their way of telling each other how much they cared about each other despite their differences of opinion. It was their certainty that they would never be less than that to each other. It was a picture they painted together, in the symbiosis of their carnal envelopes, in the depths of that lustful animal expression that led them both to mingle their breaths and their voices. And the moment Raphael felt the head of his cock collide with Leo's prostate, the simultaneous contractions of both their bodies left no room for doubt. The pleasure they were building for themselves was superseding everything else. And Raphael shifted position. He had to be on top of Leo. He needed to look at him, to plunge his golden eyes into Leo's as his brother came. He wanted to see the fruit of his hard work. So he leaned over, hovering above him, his left hand pressed against his chest to steady himself. It was as if Leonardo had been waiting for this moment, for his eager irises rooted themselves without delay in Raphael's, in a bond so solid it seemed forged in steel. Raphael's right hand trailed lower in growing hunger, seeking Leo's erect shaft that moved to the rhythm of their basins. He grabbed it and began to jerk him off, his fingers sinking with urgent pressure into that impeccable hardness. Leo's penis was soaked with his precum. Precious liquid that Raphael swept with his thumb in small circles to coat the shaft as he pumped feverishly. Leonardo was panting. His whole body tensed in waves and his heart was beating so hard that the turtle with the red headband could almost hear the cavalcade of this incessant pounding. Or maybe it was me? Maybe it was Raphael's. Their hips smashed against each other like furious waves against rocks, in a frenzied cadence. And then the softness of Leo's right hand brushed against the stubborn turtle's biceps, clinging to him like a buoy in the ocean, in this delight where they were both losing themselves. His left hand, on the other hand, instinctively held the red woolen scarf still half-wrapped around his arm, and his fingers clutched at it as the pleasure built to a climax. For a moment, Raphael was the privileged witness of this scene. Leo, wrapped in that scarlet textile, couldn't have looked more like a work of art. And the turtle with the red headband wanted to be there when he reached his peak. He wanted to be the instigator of his brother's pleasure, breathing life into his perfect creation. And he had the perfect tool for the job. His hand was still gripping his cock, an infallible brush delivering the most absolute pearly-white paint. He smiled at the thought. I'll cover you in your own gouache to make you a fucking Greek statue just to immortalize this moment when I make you cum. Stimulated by the idea, Raphael felt his whole body throb with desire, his length still in his brother's ass working fervently. His hand was still massaging the latter's cock in a more diligent back-and-forth movement that drew a guttural sound from Leo's lips. The leader's impatient hips wriggled, pushing harder against that hand around his massive girth. But it was just as Raphael's cock hit that sensitive little bundle of nerves deep inside him, that his voice stapled into a thunderous tremolo. Raphael's formidable combination of jerking and penetrating him at the same time propelled him into his last throes. He threw his head back, opening his mouth in a noisy rattle, his eyes rolling back in their sockets, arching as far as his shell would allow. Then he came without restraint between his brother's fingers, letting out a phenomenal quantity of his semen. Raphael was still clutching his shaft as Leonardo ejaculated, semen splattering down his own torso in fascinating shades of white that painted his pectoral carapace with elegance. A subtle abstract painting of delicate pearly juice, egg fluid tinged with sweat. Leo's torso shimmered in a palette of gold and snow, light liquids shimmering in the soft neon light. Raphael was the painter with the white brush. The turtle's gaze lingered for a few seconds on this liquid chaos, noting the result with satisfaction. My masterpiece. Then, almost immediately, he felt Leo's walls closing in on his cock. The sensation was too much for him and he could hold back no longer. He sank deeper still, seeking release in Leo's hole to the resounding sound of his balls slapping against his buttocks. He trembled, his breathing a mess. The fire in his groin sent him into another dimension. He was crushed whole beneath the universe that crumbled to the rhythm of his pelvis. His movements became erratic, his grunts even more bestial, and he soon perceived that familiar sensation in his balls that told him he couldn't take any more. His shaft was already crying out to be done with it, the precum so dense that it flowed out of the leader's ass as the persistent rod came and went. And Raphael clung to his brother's eyes. He was inviting himself onto his face, joining his thirsty pupils to his own. He sniffed the air, his dilated nostrils catching Leo's delicious aroma. It was a spellbinding, inexplicable sensation. Then Raph sailed on the breath that escaped from his still half-open mouth and swam over each of his scales misted with his salty sweat. And it was no longer sweat. It was raging seas pouring over his shell, like so many waterfalls on the World Turtle's back. He marked his brother with his possessive gaze, claiming him, making him his. His property. His everything. Impossible for him to tear himself away from the contemplation of this absolute being who was his for eternity. Then Raphael came hard, grinding his hips against Leo's. His cock spat out waves of his semen that went to paint Leo's inner walls, soaking his hole with the thick ejaculate. With a hoarse cry, he filled his brother with him, shooting his load in whole streams of hot cum into his cavernous depths. And with unprecedented intensity, he was swept away in a single, powerful orgasm that gripped his guts, delivering his body to increasingly uncontrolled tremors as he came. He was losing his footing, struck by a euphoric cyclone that dispersed him entirely. He felt himself inside Leo, freeing himself from his cum. He felt outside Leo, lost in the water of his eyes. He felt far from everything. And yet close to everything. His skull thickened with an abundant fog that transformed his entire consciousness into a volatile mush. His thoughts no longer made sense, and all he could cling to was the single, persistent thought that he loved Leo. I... I love you... Too proud to say it out loud. He could only hear the echo of those frantic words lost somewhere in his brain. And with a final thrust, letting his shaft throb with the heart of this welcoming cavity, he finished delivering his message. The dampness around him was driving him completely mad. Warm, comforting absorbent cotton. He never wanted to get out. He belonged there. He could hear his jerky breathing filling the room, seconded by his heart beating so hard it seemed to want to escape his shell. And Raphael, still inside his brother, stayed there a little longer, sipping every little spasm his orgasm had conceded him. It took him a few more minutes and all his willpower to move again. He extricated his exhausted cock from the leader's buttocks, spilling his sperm onto the latter's thighs in the process. And the whole time they'd been making love, they hadn't taken their eyes off each other. I didn't fuck you. I made love to you. Frozen in the moment, they still looked at each other. And they were a picture. In this surge of fluids, their bodies soiled with their juices and the viscous remains of messy eggs, they were sublimated by the red woollen scarf that draped their arms and legs with unrivalled fluidity. They seemed to be part of a bold, sensual composition in which each played a well-defined role. Egg and Knitting. They had become each other's reflection. They had exchanged who they were as they exchange a simple glance. They were chaos and stability. Impertinence and control. Stubbornness and restraint. For several long minutes, they said nothing. Each seemed to take the measure of what they had just experienced. Then Leo broke the silence. - Hey Raph..., he said with a smug smile. Apology accepted. Raphael chuckled slightly. Yeah. He'd always known that. Leo's favorite apology.