It's late. Raph vanished into the lab half an hour ago, muttering something about gettin' that nerd to bed one way or another, and emerged with a squealing Donnie over his shoulder. Judging by the loud thumping that subsequently emerged from Raph's room, and the even louder snoring that followed, he'd succeeded in his goal.
Mikey should be in bed too, probably. But instead he's sitting in the kitchen, drinking the dregs of Don's coffee, wincing at the bitter taste. It sucks, but it gets him in the mood for what he's going to do tonight--need to do, in some ways.
Because it's been hours since training ended, and sounds are still coming from the dojo.
Leo's real quiet while he does it, so it was easy to ignore when the lair was bustling. But now that their friends have gone home and the other guys are in bed, the sounds are almost painfully loud.
There's the whoosh of blades through the air, the thump of fists on wood, the faintest thunk of arrows in targets. Or that stupid chanting--Mikey has grown to hate the healing hands ritual too much for something that's saved their lives so often, for the way it lives Leo with blood pouring from his noise and ears, nauseous and trembling, if he practices it for too long.
It started not long after Splinter died. Or at least that's what Mikey likes to think, but if he's honest while himself, it probably started a lot earlier than that. Leo has always had to fight harder to be the best, to push himself past Raph's strength and Donnie's calculations and Mikey's innate skill. He's probably been slipping out of bed to practice at night for years.
But it's only recently that it's really started to get out of control. Splinter was the only who could ever keep Leo in check, and he's gone. Their brother sees shadows around every corner these days, and he's constantly getting ready to fend off the next threat.
Leo's worn his hands bloody, skipped way too many meals, passed out in the shower, sliced himself in his exhaustion. Once he fucked up his bad leg and kept training for another hour before he collapsed. Donnie had to drug him to keep him from injuring himself further.
If Mikey does what he used to do, which was go to bed and wait for Splinter to make Leo stop. If he goes in and asks his brother nicely, Leo will say "A few more minutes" and that will turn into an hour.
So Mikey needs to do something else. It's his responsibility, after all, what with the thing that's grown between him and Leo over the years. And it's fun, sometimes, but it's still so new and frightening; he's constantly scared he's going to push Leo too far.
A grunt of exertion from the dojo reminds him that Leo is already in the process of pushing things too far. He sighs and finishes the coffee, washing the cup off in the sink. Then he stares into the mirror for a few minutes, murmuring his lines to himself as he wriggles into the role.
When he approaches the dojo he makes sure to keep his back straight, trying to look as imposing as he can in his bulky new frame. He's had a recent growth spurt, and at times he's still half-startled by the stranger looming in the mirror. But tonight, he needs to act like he's been carrying his weight for years.
He slides open the doors with as much of a bang as they can muster. "Leonardo," he says, trying to sound as deep-voiced as he can without putting an unnecessary strain on himself.
His brother freezes midswing, concentration shattering like water split by a stone. He looks up at Mikey, eyes flaring with instant recognition at his face, his pose.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Mikey asks calmly.
Leo swallows hard, sliding his sword back into its sheath. "Owner..." That's the word they've decided on, because Master carries too much meaning with it. But the meaning is the same.
"Don't fucking 'Owner' me, slut," Mikey growls, stalking across the room. "You think this is what I keep you around for? Do you think I'm going to waste my time on a slave that's worn itself to the bone?"
He grabs Leo's chin between his fingers, jerking his head up so that their eyes lock. "That wasn't a rhetorical question."
"N-no, Owner." Leo swallows hard, fingers tapping at his sides.
"That's right." He shoves Leo's face, and his brother stumbles backward, even though there's no way something like that could have unbalanced him in real life. "So what exactly are you screwing around like this for? Trying to defy me, huh?"
"No! No, Owner, I was just--"
Mikey slaps him. "I don't care what you thought you were doing. Slaves don't think." He has to admit, it's a bit exhilarating to knock his big brother around like this. "Put this shit away."
He watches, hands on his hips, as Leo does what he's told. There's something relieved in the slump of his shoulders and Mikey wonders how long Leo was waiting for an excuse to stop, one that would fit with his own capacity for guilt and self-blame.
Leo's limping a little, his leg clearly worn down, and Mikey's pissed at himself for not stopping him sooner. They'll have to go talk to Donnie about it in the morning, make sure Leo didn't seriously fuck something up agin.
When he's done putting the items in the rack Leo starts to turn towards him, but Mikey reaches out and grabs a handful of his mask tails, shoving him to his knees. "Bad slaves don't get to walk," he chides. "Now come on, let's go wash up. You totally reek, dude."
He drags his brother's mask tails like a leash as he goes, so that Leo has to skitter along on hands and knees to keep up. His cheeks flush, but the bad knee doesn't seem to be bothering him too badly, which is good.
In the bathroom Mikey feels the tub with cold (but not too cold) water and makes Leo get inside, still on hands and knees, tail raised in his air. Mikey grabs a rough-bristled brush and drags it over his brother's skin, taking care to focus on the most intimate parts--his brother's tail, the tender parts of his plastron, so that bites his lip and squirms with the movements.
Mikey spends a solid minute on his brother's ass, pushing hard enough that Leo's rocked back and forth. "Hold still," Mikey mutters, giving Leo a nice hard smack on the bottom with the hard side of the sponge. Leo lets out a little whimper.
"Oh, you think that's bad?" Mikey asks cheerfully, taking care to rub the sponge back and forth over the tender spot. "We're going to be able to use your ass for a stoplight by the time I'm done with you." He pats Leo on the shell casually, proprietarily. "Naughty little slaves have to learn their place, after all."
When he's made his point, he leaves his brother huddled in the tub and stalks away, calling over his shoulder, "I left your outfit in your room. Be quick about it--you're in deep enough shit tonight as it is."
In the kitchen, he grabs Leo's uneaten dinner and heats it up, biting his lip as he watches it turn. He's already hard, but he's a little on edge, fiddling with a spoon he found on the counter. They're still so new to this, both of them.
And the thing is, Mikey is angry, genuinely so. He knows it's not his brother he's angry at, not really; it's the world Leo has to worry about, the monsters he has to fear, the little flaws in his brain chemistry that leave him so vulnerable (and their father, maybe, for encouraging it).
He's not accustomed to anger, not like Raph, especially not around someone who trusts him so much. He just hopes he can keep his shit together tonight.
"Mrrow," a voice says, and Mikey looks up to see Kitty peering out of the fridge with a comforting expression.
"Thanks," he says--she always knows just what to say. He leans over to pat over on the head, and she gives him a soothing lick before leaning back into the fridge as the microwave dings.
Mikey grabs the food before he can start thinking too hard about the fact that he just received assurance about BDSMing with his older brother from a mutant cat made of ice cream. That's a train of thought that might lead him to an existential crisis to rival Donnie's discovery of Nietzsche at age twelve.
He dumps into a nice clean dog bowl and heads outside. Leo's already kneeling on the floor besides the kitchen table. And...wow. There's really no other word for what Mikey feels when he sees his brother this way, no matter how many times it happens.
Leo's stripped himself of his regular gear, and his bare face somehow looks so much softer and more vulnerable. He's got a black leather collar, old and worn, with Mikey's name lovingly inscribed in bright orange marker.
His hands are crossed behind his back, held prisoner by the lock-on-contact cuffs Donnie made for them. Netted stockings creep up his long, perfect lengths, fluttering every time he shifts.
The piece de resistance is the ring over Leo's sweet purple cock, neatly extended between his legs. He has to sit back a little to keep it from touching the ground, his muscles flexing with the effort.
"You clean up pretty good for property," Mikey muses, plopping himself into a chair. "Well, go on gorgeous--stand up and give Daddy a look."
Leo blushes, but does as he's told. The last time he hesitated, Mikey had kept him on his lap for hours, spanking him on and off as he watched a movie in his room. He's got no time to coddle bratty slaves.
Now Leo rises and turns without a word of protest, bending over so that Mikey can get an eyeful of those lovely legs and the cock dangling between them. Not to mention his ass, already pink from the bath and so clearly ready for more.
"Very nice." Mikey takes his time coming up behind Leo, reaching out to run a thoughtful hand up over the stockings and onto his cheeks. His brother's breath catches, but he doesn't move. "Maybe I won't have to sell you to the highest bidder after all, hmm?"
It's a game they played before--Mikey talking about selling Leo off, giving him to the government or some rich old freak. It makes him a little uncomfortable talking about it sometimes, but Leo loves it; he grinds up into Mikey's hand with a soft sigh at the words.
Mikey gives a wicked grin his brother can't see and shoves, making sure to keep his hand on Leo's ass as he crashes to his knees, in case his brother starts to fall.
"Don't be impatient, slut," he murmurs, dropping the bowl in front of Leo. "Now, c'mon, eat. You're no good to me starved."
His brothers swallow, but carefully leans forward anyway and starts to eat, thighs quivering with the effort of keeping himself up. It's a position that very much continues to keep his ass in the air, wagging back and forth slightly as he chews, and Mikey settles behind him with a chuckle.
While Leo's engrossed in keeping his balance, Mikey very carefully reaches into his belt pouches, plucking out a tin of lube and a little rubber plug. He opens up the tin as silently as he can and slicks up, waiting for the perfect moment--
Leo squeals when he sticks the finger in, and probably would have pitched face first into his food if Mikey hadn't grabbed him by the bottom of the shell. "Clumsy, clumsy," he chides, reaching down to rub a thumb over that quivering tail. "We're going to need to work on your balance."
His brother holds still as Mikey starts to prep him, at least Mikey pauses to give his finger a sharp little twist that makes Leo squeal again. "You're not going to waste my food, are you?" he asks, an unmistakable note of warning in his voice.
Leo huffs, but obediently resumes eating as Mikey finishes working him open. His teeth clench from time to time, but he swallows all his food down like a good boy (Mikey listens carefully to make sure he's not choking).
"That's it," he purrs, leaning forward to nuzzle Leo's thigh soothingly. "That's my good slave. You like having your holes filled, don't you?" Leo lets out a muffled mewl and Mikey tries to let that sound wash over him, pushing his own worries away.
By the time Leo's eaten his full, his ass is nice and slick, sweetly accepting the plug that Mikey nudges inside him. He lets out a groan, rubbing his face against the cool surface of the dog bowl as if that can somehow get rid of his gorgeous flush.
"That's it," Mikey says. "See how much easier it is when you get who's in charge? When you let Owner take care of you?"
He reaches up to undo Leo's cuffs, rubbing gently along his wrists. "You're going to crawl now," he says. "All the way to my room, keeping that pretty tail high. And if you try to run away, you'll get your punishment in the morning instead, in front of everyone." They both shiver at the prospect. "Understand?"
"Yes, Owner," Leo says. He shifts to hands and knees as Mikey puts the bowl away, then crawls down the hall, keeping his tail swinging prettily in the air. Anyone who wants to can get a good look at his pretty little hole and the plug it's clutching, or the needy swing of his cock between his legs
Mikey follows far enough behind to get a good look, deliberately making his footsteps audible so that Leo knows he's being followed, being watched. He knows exactly how much his slave needs the attention. 
In his room Mikey makes a big show of locking the door, complete with a throw-away-the-key motion. "Go on," he says, letting a bit of the growl slip back into his voice as he nudges Leo towards the bed with his foot. "I haven't got all day."
Leo scampers up onto the bed, pushing his face into the pillow as if he can somehow get an easier punishment by being ready for it. Mikey chuckles. "Turn over."
His brother flips onto his back, although he looks a little confused, blinking owlishly up at Mikey as he approaches. He tries to give a soothing smile, although if Leo's learned anything by now he's probably learned that Mikey's smiles are never soothing for long.
Mikey leans over his brother, brushing his fingers up Leo's scarred plastron. "This is mine," he says. He reaches up to rub his finger along his brother's brow. "This is mine, too."
A flicker of comprehension enters Leo's eyes as he guesses the game. "These are mine," Mikey continues, tapping each muscular green arm in turn. "So is this." He slides his hand down over Leo's bridge and the edge of his carapace, tickling at the sensitive scutes until he squirms.
Mikey soothes his fingers over the stockings, carefully peeling them off. "These are mine." He wraps his fingers around Leo's cock, toying with the ring until his brother churrs. "This is mine --what there is of it." He and Leo are about the same size, actually, but slaves should always be smaller than their owners.
He tugs up under Leo's knees and the other turtle gets the message immediately, lifting his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around his knees. Mikey reaches down to brush his finger along the curve of Leo’s ass, the edge of the plug. "This greedy hole is mine." He reaches down, twisting so that Leo lets out a soft sigh.
Then Mikey's hand is snapping up, yanking Leo up by the collar so that their eyes lock. "So why," and the anger in his voice is half-played up, half-real, "Why do you have to screw around with what's mine like this?"
"Owner--"
"You don't have a fucking excuse, do you?" Mikey spits. "Is it the punishment? You like when I put you in your place? You think I don't have enough reasons to hurt you as it is?" (He does, is the thing. He's a creative guy, he could figure out a way to feed his and Leo's needs that didn't involve the overtraining and the symptom of everything it really is).
"I say it over and over again, and you don't seem to get it." He jerks Leo's head back and forth viciously. "This is my property. And it's not for you push until it breaks, it's not for you to throw at monsters or into the ocean or off into fucking space, you--"
Stop. Stop. Mikey forces himself to let go, to take a step back, rubbing his hands over his eyes. Leo gazes up at him, eyes open, a heartbeat away from safewording--for Mikey, not for himself.
"I'm okay," Mikey says firmly, rubbing his eyes. "I'm okay." He tilts his head back and breathes deep.
Leo's here, he reminds himself firmly. Not vanishing into a Technodrome, not lying still in a tub, not drifting away into space, not lost behind a wall of fire with Shredder. He's here, he's safe, and Mikey's not letting him go anywhere or throw himself into the breach, not ever again.
He starts to strip off his gear and kick it away, losing himself in the familiar motions. "If you want to treat my property like crap, then that's what’s going to happen," he says, his voice steadying. Leo leans back--there's still apprehension in his eyes, but it's the good kind, the better kind.
Mikey slips off his belt and folds it over it in his hand, snapping it through the air. Leo flinches, and Mikey gives him a wicked grin that he hopes doesn't show his own, quiet relief. This is familiar territory.
"Eyes on me," he says firmly. "You don't get to look away this time, understand?" He grabs a pillow and roughly shoves it up under Leo's hips, tilting him back at an awkward angle, but leaving him in the perfect position for a good thrashing. "Thank me for every one, and mean it."
"Yes, Owner."
And Mikey brings the belt down with a brutal crack, pouring all his leftover fear and rage into the blow. His brother wails, a high-pitched sound of release so perfect Mikey has to drop down just as the sound of it.
"Thank you, Owner," Leo whispers, and yeah, Mikey can tell that he means it. He hits him again and again, feeling himself relax with every blow, his length hardening blissfully between his legs.
He takes care to spice things up. Sometimes he lands straight on the plug, so that Leo's hoarse from shrieking by the time he offers his gratitude. Sometimes he times the blows to knock his brother back and forth, until it's all Leo can do not to fall off the bed.
Sometimes he pauses to stalk around the bed, asking his brother over and over again. What do good slaves do? And Leo will answer, eyes fixed on the ceiling, Good slaves do they're told. Good slaves don't let anyone hurt except their owners. Good slaves take care of their master's property.
It's easier when he makes Leo talk, even in that cracked, raw voice that's half-broken from screaming. It keeps Mikey's own tongue, never easy to tame at the best of times, from slipping out of control. He smiles at the words, feeling lighter when he hears them, and goes back to work with a will.
All too soon Leo's ass is turning a lovely crimson that makes Raph's mask look dim by comparison, a color so juicy Mikey wants to bite it. So he does, stepping forward and sinking his teeth into Leo's skin, grinning at the taste of sweat and need on his tongue.
Then he steps back before the scream's fully out of Leo's mouth and cracks the belt over the bite mark, so that Leo jerks so hard he looks like he's having a seizure. But instead he slumps back, trembling, and there's a sense of inescapable peace in his voice when he says, "Thank you, Owner."
Mikey keeps at it until they're both hard and trembling, Leo desperately straining under the confines of the ring. He keeps at it until he can see his brother's hole clenching desperately around that plug, smell the need flowing from his pores. He keeps at it until he sees Loe fighting not to beg--not out of pride, but because slaves don't get to ask for things.
It's only when Mikey can't keep his own desire in check any more that he stops, dropping the belt back to his side. "Tell me, slave," he asks, in a voice that he really hopes sounds more casual than it feels, "Are you sorry?"
Leo swallows hard. "Very sorry, Owner."
Mikey runs soft fingers over his brother's ass, digging his fingers into the welts just enough for Leo to whimper. "Do you think your master would bother to discipline a worthless slave?" He pretends he's not waiting for Leo's answer with bated breath.
"No, Owner," Leo says, without hesitation. Mikey lets out a soft breath of relief.
"That's right." He leans forward and gently kisses one of the uglier-looking marks. "You may be a bad slave sometimes, but you're mine." He wraps his fingers around the plug and starts to pull it out, ever so carefully. "And now I'm going to show you what you're really for."
He tugs Leo's legs apart, handling the right one as gently as possible. "Hands," he says, and Leo obediently puts them behind his back again, locking them with that familiar click. Mikey lets out a soft sigh of contentment at the sound.
"I ought you to keep you locked up in here," he muses, setting the plug aside. "Bound and helpless on my bed, waiting for me to come and take care of you. I'd never have to worry about losing you again." It's a fantasy he's quietly harbored for years, and he's a little worried about saying it aloud, but Leo just lets out an eager little, hips thrusting up at Mikey's touch.
Mikey lines up and brushes his fingers over Leo's, pausing to tap once at his temple. Okay?
Leo blinks twice, slow and assured. Yes.
They let out twin churrs when Mikey pushes inside, rocking up into each other. Leo's jaw is tight from his sore bottom rubbing against the sheets, but his eyes are bright with need. He clutches at Mikey's cock as he bottoms out.
"Greedy little slave," Mikey teases, picking up the pace. "All you really need is a good dicking to get your head on straight, hmm?" He snaps his hips viciously, digging his fingers into his brother's sides. Leo lets out another churr, face going slack as his head arcs back.
Mikey fucks him roughly, but his slave can take it. His slave wants it--they both do, to be honest. Maybe that says something weird about them, but Mikey's got his gorgeous, precious brother under him, entirely here and entirely his, and he doesn't care about anything else.
"Mine," he whispers, running his fingers eagerly, almost frantically, over Leo's heaving body. "This is mine," thrust, "Mine," thrust, "Mine." He digs his fingers into Leo's ass so hard his brother cries out, eyes rolling with pleasure. "And that's never going to change. Do you understand?"
"Y-yes, Owner, oh, harder--"
"Harder, huh?" Mikey gives a devilish grin and manages to slow down a little. "What'd I tell you about slaves giving orders?"
Leo's eyes flare with panic. "I'm sorry, Owner! Sorry, sorry, please--"
"Shhh," Mikey whispers, picking up his pace again. "It's all right, little one. You take your punishments so well, I can't help giving you a reward." He grabs Leo's legs and hoists them over his shoulders, triggering an ear splitting shriek.
"Now, come on." He bends over Leo, mask tails brushing along his sweaty forehead. "Show me how much you need this. How happy you are to be used."
And Leo does, jerking his hips up to meet Mikey's as the bed creaks and rattles underneath them. Their lips touch and Leo opens his mouth, letting Mikey stick down his throat and devour him, biting and sucking at lips that will surely be gloriously puffy in the morning.
Eventually Mikey has to grab his brother's cock, which is heartbeats away from spasming even with the ring. He bites his lip, struggling to hold off his climax, although that's pretty fucking hard when he's looking at the desperate need on Leo's face.
"Owner," he sobs, writhing frantically. "Owner, Owner, I--"
Mikey closes his eyes, trying to remember the anger that had come so easily to him a few minutes before. "You need to listen to me, Leonardo," he says, gritting out each syllable. "I need you to look into my eyes, and I need you to listen, and I need you to mean it."
Leonardo's eyes flick to him, apprehension swimming up out of a pleased haze. "Y-yes, Owner."
"You need to, hnnh, go to me, when it's too much," Mikey rasps. "When you're pushing yourself enough to, nnh, hurt. You're not fighting a war anymore, and I want," he sucks in a breath, "need you to r-remember that. And when the voices come, the worries, you, you have to go to me, not them. Do you understand?"
Leo's eyes flutter closed, then open again, peering up at Mikey with a trust that no one's ever placed in him before. "Yes, Owner."
"Good slave," Mikey grunts, and then he's loosening his grip to stroke along his brother's length, while at the same time shoving in with everything he has left.
Leo churrs frantically as he tightens, and God, it's so sweet that Mikey nearly passes out as he follows. He gives a last few vibrating thrusts as he fills Leo up, turns his insides into a canvas, makes him in a way no one will ever mar or remove.
Finally he lets himself curl up against his brother's side, pausing only to unhook the cuffs. Leo understands what he needs immediately, of course, and reaches up to wrap his arms around Mikey.
"It's okay," he whispers, pulling him close and stroking his head. "It's all right." Like they're children again and Leo's comforting him after a bad dream, like they haven't grown and changed beyond imagining since then.
Soon, Mikey knows, he'll have to rouse himself for the task of aftercare, to look after Leo the way Leo looks after them. It's one of his favorite parts of these nights, really. But first he has to ask a question.
He lifts his chin, staring directly into his brother's eyes. "Did you mean what you said?" he asks quietly. "Really mean it?" Judging by Leo's expression, he doesn't have to clarify what he's talking about.
Leo licks his glistening lips. "I'll try," he says carefully.
And that's all Mikey can ask for right now. So he snuggles up against his big brother, drinking in the smell of his body in their love, and lets himself be at peace.