Jenny shouldn't be doing this. She knows she shouldn't be doing this, she's not going to fucking lie to herself. Even as her lips press against Lita's, even as their legs intertwine and their hips rock together, she can feel the wrongness burning at the back of her brain.
Sure, Lita--the Lita currently flushed and groaning against her, anyway--is a consenting adult. But her younger self, the little girl Jenny has dedicated herself to help raise, is sleeping just down the hall. And of course there's Sheena; just because they've been fighting lately is no reason to act like this.
Her only consolation is that Jenny didn't plan to act like this. She'd walked into her room, tired and a little drunk, to find Lita sprawled out on her bed, legs open wide. She'd been fingering a cunt the same rosy pink as her markings, head thrown, filling the room with that smell, and...
Well. She barely knows how she got here, but she's stuck like a goddamn magnet. Lita yanks her even closer and Jenny lets out a low groan, shuddering all over the touch. Lita's all smoothness and grace and a body that fits perfectly into hers, like they're sparking goddamn flames whenever their cores grind together.
Jenny's distantly grateful that Lita had had the presence of mind to flip on some music. This particular Jem and the Holograms track isn't so loud that'll attract unwarranted attention (the last thing she needs is Raph barging here to complain again) but it's loud enough to drown out the rustle of the sheets and the faint squeaks of the mattress. And Jenny has always been relatively good at keeping quiet in bed--
Lita lets out a loud, sharp squeak. Jenny stiffens to a halt, pleasure suddenly juddering into a little burst of panic. The pause makes Lita squeak against and wriggle against her, cunt meeting cunt in just the right way, because of course it fucking does.
It occurs to her, suddenly, that Lita might not have a whole lot of experience being quiet. That maybe the Time Masters or whoever the fuck weren't really interested in such things. That maybe an earlier transformation could have done fuck knows what to how she expresses pleasure.
"Lita, we have--have to be quiet," Jenny whispers. "Have to..." She sucks in a sharp breath as Lita's grip tightens.
"I know," she whispers, soft and muffled into Jenny's shoulder. "I know, I know I--fuck!" They both flinch as Lita shudders against her, the movement sending lights flashing in front of Jenny's eyes.
Jem and the Holograms croon blithely on. Lita squeaks again and again, jerking back and forth, trying and failing to keep her lips pressed together. The sounds are so fucking pretty because of course they are. Jenny pants for air, choking on the smell of their mingled slick.
The pace is picking up. Lita's twisting and writhing in her arms, clearly overwhelmed, and Jenny's not too far behind. She has to stop, she needs to stop, but the effort to pull away right now might just fucking tear her in half.
"Shhh," she whispers. "Shh, please." But her voice is too weak and shaky to give it much force and she's not sure Lita can hear her. The other turtle is squeaking louder and louder, building to a scream .
And then they are so, so fucked. It's not just about explaining it to the others, although Jenny knows that's an issue. But more importantly, it's about making this shit real when this shit cannot. Become. Real.
"Jenny," Lita wails, head sagging back. Her mouth opens, preparing for a final cry, and out in the hall, a footstep squeaks.
No time to think. Jenny lunges, slapping a hand over Lita's mouth and flipping them both, tackling her to the sheet. Lita's eyes go wide as she shudders, heat blasting between Jenny's legs. Jenny seeks her teeth into the mattress to choke down a sob of pleasure.
"Jenny?" The voice echoing through her door is small, female, and coming from the absolute worst source in the world. "I heard a noise."
One breath, two breaths, three. "It's okay, Lita." Jenny says, relieved to hear her voice shake only a little. "It's just the music. I'll turn it down a little, all right?"
Underneath her, the other Lita squirms insistently. Jenny looks down, sharp with warning, only to reveal when she notices the position for her hand. It's clamped directly down directly over Lita's muzzle, over her mouth and nose. 
Jenny jerks her hand away as if it's been burned, or tries to, but Lita seizes it and yanks it back down, pressing it over her face. What the actual--
Lita's hips roll underneath her, long, slow movements, and Jenny's temporarily stifled libido flares back up. She's suddenly very aware of the look in Lita's eyes, shock giving way to confusion giving way to a burst of overwhelming arousal, the slow of a woman discovering her kinks in real time and so overwhelmed she might be actually processing what else is on around her.
"Oh," little-Lita says, shuffling her feet.
"Everything's f-ine," Jenny grits out. Lita's grip is like iron at her wrist and her other hand feels paralyzed, her mind spinning under the weight of how pretty Lita's eyes look bulging like that. How long can turtles hold their breath? "Go back to sleep, honey." Please, please go back to sleep. 
Lita's eyes flutter at the word "honey." Oh, god.
"....Jenny?"
"Y-yeah?" She tries so hard not to snap or scream or groan or do anything of the things she would usually do if she was this turned on and this fucking stressed. Lita's lids flutter with pleasure, the motion rippling through her own body, and Jenny feels herself start to quiver in response.
"Can I sleep with you?" Jenny and older-Lita both jerk at the word sleep with you, crotches rubbing together in exactly the wrong way. So fucked, so fucked, all of this so focus, and if Jenny had any spare brain cells to to use on things other than not completely disintegrating she'd probably be hurling herself out a window at this point.
"N-no, I--" Jenny forces her groan to spill out into the shape of a hacking cough. Lita is picking up speed again, propelled by the energies of the young and possibly deranged that Jenny knows so damn well. "I'm...sick, kiddo." Sick in the head, definitely. "I'd just wake you up coughing."
"Oh." Lita's voice dips into worry. "Do you need me to get Donnie?"
"No!" Her voice skitters into pleasure-panic and Jenny rocks backward, willing herself not to pass out. "I--I'm fine, sweetie," she grits out, voice trembling. Under her, Lita has finally stopped, thank fuck. "I've just got some dust in my throat, okay? I'll be fine in the morning."
"Okay," Lita sounds a little doubtful, but ultimately trusting. Always so goddamn trusting.
"Do you want--to sleep with Le, Leo? He won't mind." Hopefully, he'll be too worn out to ask a ton of questions.
Lita yawns, her little voice echoing through the door. "All right," she says, voice already growing distant. "G'night, Master Jenny."
"Good night," Jenny grits out. "I--love you."
She slumps down with relief as Lita pads away, which of course is the excuse another Lita needs to start rocking her hips, almost sending her off the fucking bed. She topples back onto her side, hand sliding off Lita's face as she tries and fails to ground herself.
Lita gasps, heaving for air, and lets out another volcanic shudder, wrapping her legs tightly enough that there's no way she isn't leaving bruises. Fluid burns against Jenny's core and she spasms at the sensation, crashing their lips together in a desperate attempt to keep from screaming.
The world blurs and melts around them, Jenny's eyes fluttering as she settles back on her shell. She gazes at the ceiling, listening to Jem lead into the chorus, listening to Lita breathe gently beside her.
"I love you too, you know," Lita murmurs.
Jenny lets out a breath. "Lita...."
"I know." Lita straightens up a little, peering through the dimness. "I know, okay? But--please. Just for one night."
Jenny sighs. "One night," she says, hoping, praying that it'll be true. For both of them.
They lie in the dark like that for a little bit, and then Lita starts to move again. "Can I..."
Jenny lets her head fall back, giving in. "Okay," she says, not quite as reluctant as she wishes she could be. Lita nudges her legs apart and dives between them, scale ripping against scale. Jenny turns her head into the pillow, taking deep, slow breaths as the band plays on.