Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/14066100.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Teenage_Mutant_Ninja_Turtles_-_All_Media_Types, Teenage_Mutant_Ninja
      Turtles_(TV_2012)
  Relationship:
      Donatello/Leonardo/Michelangelo/Raphael_(TMNT), Donatello/Leonardo_
      (TMNT), Leonardo/Michelangelo/Raphael_(TMNT)
  Character:
      Leonardo_(TMNT), Donatello_(TMNT), Raphael_(TMNT), Michelangelo_(TMNT)
  Additional Tags:
      InkyHeadcanons, Polyamory, OT4, Space_Arc, Alien_Planet, Rough_Oral_Sex,
      Anal_Fingering, Banter, Soft_Kisses
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-03-23 Updated: 2018-03-26 Chapters: 2/? Words: 2523
****** Running Scales Redux ******
by whetgold
Summary
     Headcanon courtesy of Inkyturtle! A lot of short, dirty ficlets.
Notes
     Here we go again! Warm ups based on Inkyturtle's super cute
     headcanons!
***** high highs to low lows *****
They had only been stranded here for a few days, but Don was pretty sure Leo
had gone native.
His toes wriggled deeper into loose silt, disturbing the bottom of the swamp
they’d found. The water was shockingly transparent, only clouding as fine
flurries of sand lost hold, blood brown over his toes. Leo had said it was the
color of his eyes.
Not in any sweet way. In that weird, immutable way Leo had. Only factual,
because he knew it to be true. Normally it drove Donnie up the wall, but this
time, he’d just ducked his gaze away. Pulled up a patch of bank and parked his
shell patiently, since Leo had taken an immediate interest in the other
inhabitants of the swamp.
He tipped his head back, resting the knot of his mask on the edge of his
carapace, and cast his eyes up. Huge fronds towered over their small glade,
long wispy strands of moss hanging from crystalline branches, the ends dipped
into the still pool. Clear like strands of floss, like everything on this crazy
planet, the trees bowed under their weight. Earlier Don had confirmed: thin,
temporary roots systems that dissolved when pulled from the water. The trees
themselves were bigger than anything they still had on earth- Earth had moved
beyond ferns forever ago. And the bark, the bark was very interesting. He had
wondered-
A soft splash drew his gaze across the water. Leo stood, face bare. His mask
lay crumpled and damp beside Don’s thigh. He would have looked vulnerable
except for the watchfulness in his blue eyes. Even had he looked it, it would
have been a lie. Unwavering focus on the teeming stir of life at his hips. The
water cut him off at the waist, leaving his legs wobbling and distorted under
the surface. Although easily thirty feet away, the clarity of the water allowed
a green shadow under it’s surface.
The moss. It had to be. A filtration system, although Don wasn’t sure how. He’d
tried to talk it out with Leo earlier, to give his more nebulous ideas real
form, but Leo was distracted. Unintentional inattentiveness, but Don had still
laid his ideas aside. Had chosen to give in to the warm, infrequent sun.
Leo had waded out further from the shore, where bigger shadows swam.
Then enough time had passed that the suns had begun to sink, and all trace of
Leo’s path had been obliterated by tiny shelled ghosts crawling the floor.
Clear, camouflaged for their exotic home. Clear like the bigger phantoms Leo
hunted still, quick lean fish, with narrow bodies.
He still had yet to catch one but Don knew he would. Leo had decided to after
all. His will was another immutable fact.
Don was sure enough in his brother that he’d taken a moment to twist some of
the thin reeding growing along the bank into a rough, living net. It was firm
enough Don hoped it would continue to grow like that, after he’d left. Maybe it
would even be good enough to hold Leo’s catch. Although-
“We aren’t sure we can eat them.” Don said, voice pitched low, trying to make
up for his earlier volubility. “And if we can, I doubt it’ll taste like
sashimi.”
Leo looked up, flashing him a half-smile in acknowledgment before he turned his
attention back to the unmoving water in front of him. Don hadn’t expected much
else. Leo’s commitment to a challenge was absolute, even when it was just fish.
Silence settled across the serene scene before him after a moment. Leo, poised
on the brink of motion. Evening light, just breaking through the tree line.
Leo’s hand darted for the water, clearing the surface cleanly. A gentle splash
this time, the ripples too contained to reach Don. From here he could see the
rhythmic rise and fall of Leo’s chest, could tell that he’d slipped into
measured breathing, a meditative calm.
The satisfaction on his face told Donatello he had been successful before he
saw Leo’s catch, pinched between big green fingers. A raindrop fish. Not the
weirdest thing Don will have eaten.
“Enough for sashimi.” Donatello said. “Not much else.”
“I’ll catch more.” Leo assured him.
Don didn’t think to doubt him.
Carefully caught the squirming fish when Leo tossed each one to him, slipping
it smoothly back into the water. Watched them nibble at their cage of reeds,
noted the soft, regular flutter of their gills. Even this close, they were hard
to see, well, clearly. When he looked back up, Leo had resettled, crouching,
arms held stiff and ready.
Leo’s hand pierced the water.
He rose with another catch in hand. Now that he’d done it once, Donatello knew.
He’d do it every time.
Feet cool, face warm, Donatello watched the suns set.
Leo waded steadily closer, feet treading a slow path back to the bank, moving
the water in lazy ripples. He’d caught more than a few fish now, enough that
Don had to keep a hand in the water, brushing their lively dinner back to their
pen.
He was close enough now to have run out of prey, close enough that Don could
feel the disturbed water brushing his calves, chilling him as it lapped at his
skin. Leo moved through the water as though he was learning a kata for the
first time, each step sure and planted. Tiny furrows of mud and silt trailed
him like brown smoke.
Don watched him now, the only tide in a still swamp. Leo stepped close. Then
stepped closer still, their legs brushing smoothly in the water. Close enough
for Donnie to see the small wanting smile curving his lips.
“Kiss me.” Don asked. It was abrupt and Donatello felt his stomach tighten at
his own request. Leo was only still for a second, his body swaying forward
until he stood in the part of Donatello’s thighs, only the water separating
them. He paused, millimeters from Don’s mouth. Smiled, again.
“Leo." Don demanded, and Leo kissed him, fused their mouths together clumsily.
His balance in the water wasn’t as steady as it had appeared, and Don held him
with a hand to his shell. A moment, a kiss. It wasn’t enough.
Don had known it wouldn’t be.
Leo pulled away first and Don sighed at the space between them.
“We’ll lose our catch.” Leo told him patiently, and Don thought he might be
right. Already the fish were exploiting the flaws in Donnie’s weave,
threatening to escape. “I thought you were hungry. I can wait-”
“Kiss me, again.” Don said, hooking his legs around Leo, keeping him close.
“Just that. Then we can-”
Leo’s mouth cut him off, an insistent press of mouth and beak. Leaned into him,
planting his hands on the bank beside him and water rose against him, slapping
at his calves. The tide, surging into his mouth. Don’s hands, wet, rose to his
shoulders, his neck. Haloed as he was by the sun, even with his eyes wide open
he could barely see his brother’s face.
Couldn’t have mistaken the surety of his mouth for anyone else. Intractable,
even on unsteady footing. Calm, until he struck. It had taken Don longer than
it probably should have to trust in Leonardo’s leadership.
He felt movement by his thigh, and Donatello pulled away hurriedly, looked down
in time to see Leo’s hand guiding the back of a single, clever fish.
“I’ve got it.” Leo said, soft against his mouth.
“I know.” Don said.
***** twice *****
Chapter Notes
     This is a redux, so here's another Leo/Mikey/Raph set, but with
     different dynamics. The rating changes dramatically with this
     chapter, please note the tags.
They had been at this for a while. Too long, maybe.
Leo can tell Raph’s patience is wearing thin, lip curled and sweating, the
strength in his thrusts real. Mikey seems oblivious to the threat brewing above
him. Just keeps taking it, as Raphael pushes him harder, uses him up, shell
dipping each time he thrusts into the loose pleasure of his brother’s mouth.
Until tears stain his orange mask, breath run to ragged gasps. His eyes have
been squeezed shut since Leo began using two fingers, mimicking the pace
Raphael set.
Leo loves watching his baby brother like this- when he’s too far gone to finish
what’s on his plate. Tonguing along Raph’s wet skin, sloppy and fast. Leo can
feel himself peek free at the sensory memory of that mouth on himself.
He presses a concealing hand along his front, accidentally smearing lube along
his spreading lower scutes. Has to take another breath at the unexpected
sharpness of the sensation. His control is good, but Michelangelo has often
bettered it without trying. Just watching him attempt to siphon some of
Raphie’s endless energy has Leonardo’s hands distracted.
Too bad, it’s only wound Raphael up.
Leo slides his fingers free of Mikey’s body with slow, careful movements. His
insides cling to the square joints of his knuckles, despite how long he’s been
worked over, Leo patiently spreading him again and again. Raphael pulls his
cock free of his brother’s slack mouth, and Leo watches him paint a shiny
stripe of spit across freckles.
“ ‘S he ready?”
Leo doesn’t bother to look to Raphael’s impatient mien. Rubs softly at the
joint of Mikey’s ankle for a pensive moment before grabbing the lube and
pouring more across his fingers. He’s wet all over by now. His hands, his
wrists, his plastron where he’d had to press himself back behind his shell.
Raphael sighs aggressively.
That’s alright. With his brewing mood, a little extra lube can’t hurt.
Instead of watching Raphael thrust his endless frustration into their brother,
Leo drops his head between smooth freckled thighs. Eases his focus a moment,
looses himself scattering small kisses across soft skin. His lips brush just
the base, making Mikey’s stiff prick twitch and Leo chases the motion. Follows
it up, his hips jerking with each dropped kiss, and by the time Leo reaches his
goal a small bead of pre-cum has welled to meet his tongue.
“Shit, Leo.”
His eyes drift up, along the plastron twisting on his sheets, and above to meet
Raphael’s eyes. He loves it when they use his bed, even when Raph snores, and
none of them let him change the sheets before they pass out, a tired pile of
shells. Likes waking to the warm tangle of their limbs, their sleepy smell.
Even when he has to burn twice as much incense before he can meditate in the
morning.
From here, he can see the shiny underside of Michelangelo’s chin, as he
swallows around the cock filling him. Chooses following through with the long
motion of his own tongue, over answering.
“Maybe I should get you up here, instead.” Raph says.
“Maybe.” Leo says, letting his tongue pull with the word, liking the burbling,
chirping noise it draws from Mike. Wonders what that sound feels like. Good, he
thinks, meeting Raph’s slit eyes. His shell aches with the fullness of holding
himself back.“You could be a little more patient.”
Raph huffs, but Leo ignores him. Mikey’s been hard for so long, his wet cock
pulled and squeezed as they took full advantage of the empty home. Desensitized
and overstimulated, the head of him fat and florid against the scuffed plating
of his chest. Beautiful. Leo leans down, his tongue narrowed to a tip, and
traces a light line along a vein.
Presses a finger into him, and Mikey sobs around Raphael.
“Hurry up.” Raphael says, like he’s pissed.
He isn’t, so Leo ignores him. Mikey’s soft inside, his body shaking as it
clenches and clenches where he’s pushed fullest. He lets Mikey’s body take it’s
own pleasure for a moment, pressing his hand flush against the swell of his
ass. The stub of his tail wags against his wrist.
“Leo.” Raphael asks again.
Leo pulls his finger free, and Mikey vocalizes the loss. His eyes blink open,
like a man waking from a dream, before they steady and focus on Leo’s face.
“Don’t stop-” He says, before Raphael pushes back into his mouth with grunt.
Leo rolls his eyes.
Presses against his puffy, swollen opening with two fingers, and Mikey lavishes
his love for Leo’s firm leadership on Raphael. Raphael, who’s had to brace one
hand against the wall, his hips thrusting, quick, unsteady. His whole body is
tight with tension, and Leo frowns.
“Don’t cum.”
Raphael turns, a dull flush flooding his cheeks, mouth opening in surprise. His
eyes cut almost immediately back down to where Michelangelo is wet-eyed,
hollow-cheeked, before they meet Leo’s challenge.
“I wasn’t gonna.” He says, and Mikey pulls off to laugh.
“Yeah, you were.”
Leo lets his head drop, his mouth a quick reward. Sets off a chain reaction,
Mikey gasping a sigh, and Raphael using the chance to mute him. A double-edged
sword, judging by the look of hopeless concentration building on his stubborn
face.
Maybe they had been at this too long.
“He’s ready.” Leo decides.
“Finally." Raphael says, the closest he’ll come to relief. Mikey, mouth his own
for the moment, laughs.
Leonardo takes his fingers back quickly, and Mike inhales. Raphael, more
confident in his movements now that he’s finally been given the go ahead,
chucks Mike under the chin on the dismount. His cock swings between his legs as
he moves to the foot of Leo's bed. Leonardo is up already, rolling off the bed
onto his feet and crossing to the head. He's as eager as they are, back braced
against the wall, in time for Raphael roll Mikey into their laps.
This isn’t the first time they’ve done this.
Mikey’s request normally, though he didn’t really ask. Just sort of wrapped
them into his orbit, around his fingers, down the hall and into a bed. This
time, his job had been made easier for them being the only three in the lair.
Leo’s hand goes to his head, his cheek, guiding him forward.
He drops almost immediately, unable to resist the proximity of that wet tired
mouth so close to the need in his shell. Mikey just smiles up at him, sweet and
for the moment, satisfied. Purses his lips in a kiss.
Raph doesn’t hesitate at all.
Trusts Leo to have ensured the ease of his pleasure, and Mikey’s mouth widens
instead to a soft expression of shock as Raph thrusts into him. They’re all
warmed up, like they’re done sparring, about to head topside. Loose and ready.
Violent.
The result is Raphael taking into the soft body below him like a machine.
Mikey’s hands fly to Leonardo for support and Leo steadies him, locking his own
hands along his forearms. Mikey’s body shakes with force of impact, and he
wails, too loud, even with the lair empty. It makes Raph growl, his hands going
for purchase along the soft creases of his hip and thigh, the curve of his ass,
dragging Mikey back onto him in time to his thrusts.
“Le-leo.” Mikey says, cries, making Leo smile as he guides his brother’s open,
distraught mouth onto his cock.
Poor Donatello, stuck on Master Splinter’s trip to scavenge the city dump.
He’d really drawn the short straw this time.
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