Donatello’s stopped trying now.

It’s post-practice. Leo’s free time, and he’s here, leering over him silently as if expecting a struggle. Donatello can smell him; smell everything about him. That familiar, familial scent of home, and the labour of his brother’s exercise. But there’s something else too. There’s always something else when Leo’s here.

Donnie never struggles anymore. Not now. His hands and feet are bound, immovable against the posts of the bed, ass lifted shamelessly into the air. A black mask, turned to the side, blinds him, and two thick rubber cocks plug both of his holes. It’s almost impossible to even struggle, and Donnie doesn’t have any energy to waste any more trying to escape.

The bed creaks and sinks. Leo’s above him, already disrobed from his Foot gear. He snakes his hands over Donnie’s thighs and the anticipation of the touch makes Donnie’s cock quiver with need and- fuck. He’s already hard and moaning behind his gag.

“Hello, brother.” Leo’s voice is dark; husky. The sound of it still surprises Donnie, the part of his mind that still clings to reality, because Leo never used to talk. Just fuck. Fuck him hard and fill him up and then leave and then come back later to fuck him again. Over and over and over. Even now he’s already in position, gently teasing out the plug lodged in Donnie’s ass.

He moans when Leo enters him, the rational part of his brain trying to force the pleasure out of his mind, convince himself that it’s not right. It’s no use anymore, because he’s molded perfectly for Leo’s cock now; it fits just right, fills him up just right and it’s bliss. He knows, because that’s what Leo tells him – what he’s telling him right now whilst he fucks him, hard and fast. “…so good for me, Donnie. You’re made for this. Made for your big brother’s cock.” And it’s true; makes him whine and makes his cock harden and he bucks up, needy for release.

“That’s right, Donnie. I’m gonna make you cum. Gonna make you cum for me while I fill you up,” Leo’s lips brush against his jaw, nibbling at the skin, his fingers dancing along his throbbing cock, “you’ll like it, won’t you?” Donnie sobs when he cums; spent, because he does like it. He’ll always like it. Even when Leo leaves him; a trophy in his room. Alone. Waiting to be used again.

He can’t imagine a world without it.