It’s funny, Raph thinks as he turns another page, how you could almost mistake the squeaking for something going funny in the machinery. A lack of oil, maybe, or a piece fitted in wrong. 
But Raph knows Donnie, and he knows himself, and he knows that they don’t make squeaky machinery, especially not for important matters. And a gift for their big brother is a very important matter indeed. 
Well. Raph looks up from the magazine, gazing at the turtle strapped to the table besides his chair. “Gift” is an interesting way to describe it. Leo’s having fun, certainly, if the cum spattered across his thighs, hips, and stomach is any indication, or the way he’s shuddering so hard the restraints look like the only things keeping him together, frantically clenching and writhing around the steel piston in his greedy little hole. 
Not to mention the squeaking–the loud, blissful squeaking that Leo so rarely lets himself make, the squeaking Raph could listen until the day he dies. The squeaking would be more than enough to get him off a dozen times over, but he’s been trying to pace himself, more or less, so that he’ll be ready when the machine’s got Leo broken down good and proper. 
They’re not quite there yet, but Leo does look worn out, and he’s started licking his lips like he might be getting thirsty. Better to be safe than sorry, Raph supposes, so he stands up with a big stretch and goes over the control board. He’d talked Donnie out of riddling it with too many gizmos, so it’s a simple manner of shifting the dial so it moves at a much more sedate pace. 
Leo stiffens a little at the change, letting out a soft hiss and wriggling like he’s trying to grind back on the machine. Oh dear, silly Raph had shut things down while he was working his way towards another orgasm, hadn’t he? 
“Spoiled little brat,” Raph says fondly, reaching to give Leo’s cock a faint pat. His brother squeaks again, juddering hard enough to rock a less solidly built machine, but luckily Raph and Don know all of his tricks 
Raph grabs a water bottle before reaching out to undo the upper part of the restraints and helping Leo sit up. His brother clings to him, brain too fried for any backchat; it’s one of Raph’s favorite parts of putting him into this thing. He just lets out little whimpers and sighs, watching dully as Raph clicks the cap off and lifts it to his mouth. 
Helping Leo drink while the machine still runs, even slowly, is a bit of a pain, but they’ve got it down okay. Raph shifts carefully back and forth, watching Leo drink little slips until his brother jerks his head a little, signaling that Raph can put the bottle away. 
“You good?” Raph asks, voice soft and careful. Leo nods without hesitation and Raph lets an evil grin split his face. 
“Good,” he croons, flopping Leo back onto his shell and buckling him into place. “Cause you ain’t getting outta this thing for a while, baby.” He reaches over and flips the dial back up, higher than it had been before, before plopping back into his chair. 
The delicious squeaking comes roaring back, right on cue. Raph props up his feet and comes back to his place in his magazine, making himself comfortable for what’s shaping up to be a very pleasant afternoon.