The First Time

His fingers tremble like he is freezing, even though it is only September. It is all he can do to keep breathing normally. A pair of concerned blue eyes gaze back at him as warmly callused hands clasp his sides.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." Says that voice, slurred and smooth, like water over worn sea stones. He inhales tightly, thanking the ninja training that keeps his almost panicked gasp quiet. Where are all the people? They live in New York City, for Christ's sake, there are always people!

But the street below is deserted.

"Raphael?"

He brushes his fingertips against sharp cheek bones, trailing down to where a hand still grasped a white porcelain mask.

"Raph, if you don't want to..if this goes against somethin' I don't understand…"

A finger against coral-pale lips.

"I want to."

And his fingers come up, tugging firmly if shakily at ties that have remained snugly in place. It falls, his mask, like a ribbon of blood, forgotten on the tarmac.

He blinks. A thumb strokes against his temple.

"They're gold." Whispers Casey.

Had the moon always been so bright?

A/N: okay, my amigos, fire away. Good, bad, improving suggestions?