"Gotta say, Fearless," Raph drawls. "You might not be Spike or Chompy, but you still make a pretty good pet.”
Leo glares at him from the bedroom floor, where he's been left to rest on his hands and knees. He's wearing a set of pretty little pads that turn his hands into blunt, helpless paws; they're a deep red to match his cherry-colored collar and freshly polished puzzle. Even the dog ears, carefully arranged with Leo's earslits exposed so he can hear his master's commands, are red. 
It's enough to make Raph want to have the collar marked Clifford, but Leo might actually try to kill him for that. Not to mention that the way Leo's mouth twists like he's bitten something sour whenever Raph calls him Fearless is a special pleasure all its own. 
Not that he can let his brother get away with it, of course. "Ah ah ah, Fearless. Learn some manners or I'll haveta send you back to obedience school." He gestures to the paddling bench in the corner, the crisp straps neatly arranged in preparation for another round. Leo swallows and bows his head, staring fixedly at the ground. 
"Good boy." Raph taps the floor with his foot. "C'mere, puppy." Leo swallows, but obediently starts to crawl across the floor. 
"Uh-uh. Good puppies wag their tails, remember?" 
Leo's eyes dart up to him, bright with anger...or at least, what strangers who've never seen Leo actually mad would call anger. Then he bows his head and slowly, delicately unfurls his tail in the air, swaying gently back and forth. 
"That's the ticket, princess." Raph settles back as Leo approaches the bed, his tail wagging with an excitement the rest of him doesn't appear to share. Not unless you count the faint but growing scent of arousal drifting around him like a cloud, the smell of a slutty little puppy desperately trying to hide the fact that he's as hard as Raph is. 
He stops before the bed and pauses, waiting. He'd wait for ages--Raph tested it once, found Leo sitting in his own piddle on the floor--but tonight doesn't feel like a night for taking it slow. 
"Sit." Leo settles back on his haunches, moving gracefully as ever. "Roll over." He's less graceful as he flips across the floor, rendered awkward by the paws and the weight of Raph's stare. "Shake hands." He's back up again, obediently extending a paw for Raph to give a nice, firm shake. 
"Such a good puppy," Raph croons, not missing the way Leo's head jerks up a little at the praise. "You want a treat?" 
He doesn't wait for Leo to answer, just turns to gather up the little pile of leaves he's got by his bed. With his free hand he carefully unbuckles Leo's muzzle, just lifting it to expose his mouth. "You bite and I'll give you the ball gag for a week," he warns. He doesn't tell Leo not to talk; there's no need. They both know puppies don't talk. 
Of course, puppies don't eat a lot of leaves, but what the hell, it worked with Spike, and it works for Chompy. Leo doesn't seem to have any issue obediently nibbling, taking little bits out of the leaves, neat and delicate as a princess. 
"That's it," Raph murmurs, chucking his brother under the chin. "You like your leaves, don't you, Fearless? Like having your daddy take care of you, right?" Leo bites his lip and ducks his head in acknowledgement, as if the small, significant bulge in his plastron isn't enough to answer enough. 
"Yeah, you do." Raph sets the last of leaves aside and carefully tucks the muzzle back into place, bending close enough that he knows his breath will harm his brother's earslit. "Why don't we try..." 
Leo tenses, like he already knows what's coming, and Raph smiles his toothiest, hungriest smile: 
"Downward-facing dog."