Raph's nervous, and he won't pretend he isn't. He sits up next to Leo quietly--quiet, he's never quiet--looking down at him. Leo's breaths are slow and deep, and Raph's seen him fake sleep enough time to know the difference. 
Of course, Leo's a light enough sleeper that he'll probably wake up during the...act. Act, fuck, he's starting to sound like his brother. It's sex, for crying out loud. Sex with his brother. Who is asleep. Who doesn't want to be woken up while Raph does it. 
Leo sighs and rolls over, blankets rustling gently. He looks so young like this, soft and vulnerable. He'd looked like that, earlier, when he'd explained what he'd had in mind for a while now. 
I want to be erased, he'd explained, or tried to, not quite able to meet Raph's eye. I want to feel like nothing. I want to be a toy, you know? 
Raph does and doesn't understand that. He knows a little about not wanting to feel, sometimes, but when he plays his games with Leo he feels everything, sharp and clear and more malleable than they've ever been. All of his emotions, tugged out from the fucked-up mess in his brain and laid to rest, easy as can be, and he's finally got space to breathe. 
That's not what Leo needs from him, though, even though he'd never pressure Raph into anything. And to be honest, it does sound tempting, the longer Raph sits here looking down at him. Leo is pliable, quiet, steady, far enough away that Raph can't risk damaging him while still close enough to touch. 
He starts slowly, carefully tugging the blanket aside and nudging Leo's legs apart. His brother's hole is still slick from the night's activities and it's a simple matter to get his finger wet, nudge him open, and push his way inside. 
It's weird...Leo's tight around him, as usual, but not quite as tight as usual. He lets out a little sigh, head lolling when Raph begins to move, but there's none of the usual squeaking and quivering, none of the background music Raph has grown to love. 
Still, he's warm enough inside, and Raph can fall into a regular rhythm of back and forth, back and forth, movements slick against Leo's unresisting flesh. Leo twitches and whimpers a little, his own cock stirring, although the scent of his arousal is weaker than usual. 
"C'mon, baby," Raph whispers, even though no one's listening. "C'mon..." The pace picks up, their bodies snapping back and forth, and Raph lets out a low, humming churr. He can feel Leo start to tense around him, but no joy; he must have been sleepier than Raph expected. 
"C'mon," Raph hisses, a bit of frustration taking him. He looks down, grabbing Leo's shoulders, but his brother is still so limp and still, like--like he's-- 
--limp and cool and still in the tub, on the ground, on the water, and he ordered himself not to remember but dead Leos pile at his feet and shake to rotten pieces around his-- 
Raph pulls with a cry just in time, come spilling over the sheets as he vomits off the side of the bed. He clings to the blankets for dear life like he's about to fall off, shaking. 
"Raph?" Leo pushes up, still half-hard and blinking at him, only for his eyes to sharpen as he realizes what's going on. "Shit. Raph!' He lurches forward, throwing his arms around Raph, and Raph reaches back to cling on for dear life, fingers shaking a little as they press into Leo's wrists. 
"I'm sorry," Leo whispers. "I'm sorry, I--shit. I wasn't thinking, Raph, fuck--" 
And Raph wants to say it's not Leo's fault, that he wasn't thinking either, that he'd been so stupid to believe he was for sure over all this by now, but all that escapes him is a torrent of sobs. Leo holds him, murmuring gently in his ear, as water cascades around them both.