Mikey wanted to touch the mask.

Of course, Leo wasn’t going to let him.

“No.” Leo says firmly for the fifth time, to which Mikey pouts; which usually worked on anyone if Mikey wanted his way. Apparently Leo was immune to it today though. Typical.

“But, dude,” he drapes himself over Leo’s shoulder, making the elder turtle slump. “it’ll be totally cool! Just imagine Casey’s face if we stick it on him when he’s sleeping!” He flips himself over Leo, whipping around to face him. There’s an exasperated sigh, but Leo doesn’t humour him, instead just keeps on walking. Mikey backpedals, staying in Leo’s path. He tries again. “Ooh! Ooh! Or what about Raph’s face when I walk into the lair with it on! Or maybe-!”

Mikey doesn’t see the hand coming, but it fits tightly around his mouth. He gazes at Leo, gently, softly and for a moment he thinks it’s going to work. Leo’s mouth twitches, his rigid posture melting away as he lowers the container in his hand. Leo’s fingers trace gently up his face. Mikey’s giddy now, excited, already reaching out to take the mask from Leo.

He slaps him gently upside the head, which Mikey did NOT expect. Somehow. It makes him recoil and stop, and Leo shoves past him with a tiny smile creeping over his features.


“No.” he says, and Mikey sighs, because he knows it’s final.

—

Except endings were pretty overrated, especially when they were boring.

And endings where Mikey didn’t get the super cool thing were always boring.

Funnily enough, the mask is barely hidden; or well guarded. It surprises Mikey, considering the face Leo pulled when he first saw it and he muttered something about dark auras or some other zen-whosits. He thought Leo might keep it in his room, or just anywhere Mikey wouldn’t be able to get to. But no. He stashes it in with Splinter’s stuff.

He finds it easily because their dad’s a bit of a neat freak. It’s on display quite loudly, slap-dab king of the mountain on the neat pile of all the other stuff Leo leaves for Splinter to look at. Like, just about everything Leo can’t smell himself on because he’s paranoid about everything. If it’s not perfect; it’s evil. Burn it with fire. Or have a ratman exorcise it with kooky humming. Whatever floats his shell.

He assumes Leo expected him not to look there, since it’s off limits or something. He also assumes Leo’s a little out of it too if he thought that would work.

The mask is pretty light in his hands. Cold, rubbery to the touch; makes his skin tingle with feeling as he pets over it in awe. He holds it up to his face, and his head starts swimming because he swears he can hear whispering to him in his head, though he can’t make out the words because they’re too quiet. It stops once he tears it away though, but it leaves him feeling empty. Like a part of him’s missing all of a sudden.

Now he’s giddy again. He tries again once he’s back in his room. There’re no obvious features on the front of the mask, no lion head or demon or cat face. It’s almost totally flat save for the indents for the eyes, nose and mouth, so it fits over his face pretty snugly.

“Woah…” His breathing slows as the sensations start up again; the light headedness, the voices in his ears. It’s more bearable this time, almost more natural, so he accepts it, reclining back on his bed with the intention of falling asleep with it on because the idea excites him a lot. “I could totally get used to this.”

It’s probably because of that that he doesn’t feel the heat straight away, or maybe it’s because of the constant noise in his head. He doesn’t know, but when he finally realises it’s a little unbearable and all too familiar because it’s all pooling straight to his gut. He’s pretty sure the smell of the latex sticking to his face isn’t helping either, because as soon as he breathes in the warmth only gets worse.

Eventually it gets too much to ignore, so he slips his hand down to his thigh, gently massaging the skin in small circles; teasing the sensitive skin just below his plastron before weaving his way up onto the shell. He makes a beeline for his cock, which is already poking out not-so-meekly from the slit, and starts pumping it; using the other hand to press the mask into his beak and rub it against his skin.

Mikey cums quickly, and boy does it ever feel good. He doesn’t know if it’s the feel and smell of the mask or if he’s just super pent up, but the high is unreal. Way more extreme than he remembers, and his dick must be thinking the same because it’s still rock hard, bouncing against his sticky front.

“Dude,” he addresses it, not really thinking as he runs his hand over the length. There’s a pause, because the contact rocks him, his breath stolen. “It’s, like, way past your bedtime.”

Not that he expects it to humour him or anything, but he waits for a response anyway. Nothing comes, save for the occasional spasm. He bites his lip, straining; grabs it before he can change his mind; starts working it hard and fast and unsteady because damn he needs it. It’s slick from his cum and it makes it easier than before to make his hand blur.

He tenses this time when it’s over, painting himself in more of his seed. His eyes are closed when he calms, and when they open he’s almost surprised to find his cock still standing and his body still needing more. Almost.

“Fuck…” His breath sounds laboured but quiet from within the mask, and for a moment he considers just rolling over and just ignoring his dick. Just waiting it out until morning so he can have an excuse to be late to training, but the sensation is too much and he’s working his cock again. “Fuuuck…”

The whispering keeps getting louder and louder but until now Mikey’s just been ignoring it, just letting it run through his mind untouched because it’s only saying stuff he already knows. How much he needs to cum, how good it feels to stroke his cock, how amazing he smells coated in his own essence, how it mixes in just right with the scent of latex. He knows it so well, like it’s trained in his memory. It fits so perfectly, just like the mask around his face.

But in the five seconds he has before his hands are back on his cock, he tenses because that’s wrong. It’s not true. It’s not right and now there’s something pushing against his lips that he knows wasn’t there before. It’s long and thick, cold like the rubber pressing against him. When he cums again, it pushes in and fills his mouth, silencing him in the panic that sweeps across his whole body.

“Mmph!?” He reaches up, tries to tug the mask off, but his hands betray him because they’re back at his cock and it feels so good, so good that his mind blanks and he can’t possibly imagine why he’d want to take the mask off at all. He knows he can’t take it off anyway, because it was made for him. Made to make him cum just like he wants to. Cum because he’s so needy, so horny. He’s fading, melting into his pleasure, struggles growing quiet, less appealing. Cumming, cumming.

Cum.

—
There’s a heavy silence when they find him.

Mikey’s covered in cum. His own cum. His cum is everywhere, drowning every inch of his body, and he loves it. Loves cumming. Loves cumming over and over again, all over himself, all over the mask. Leo’s kneeling in front of him, and Mikey humps his brother’s hand as it touches his throbbing cock experimentally, and it makes him cum and he wipes it on Leo’s hand. His cum on Leo’s hand and Leo looks disgusted, shocked, but Mikey knows he’ll change his mind soon because Leo loves cumming too, just like Mikey. He brushes his sticky hand against Leo’s nose, eyes glassy and needy.

Mikey loves to cum.