He needed one of them. Desperately. Now.
Teeth bared, Raphael exited his bedroom. His feet barely touched the stair treads in his rush to descend to the lower floor of the lair.
Of course when he was anxious there was no one in sight. Turtle luck running true to form.
The rich reverberations of Leonardo's kiai jerked Raphael around as if he was being physically pulled. Striding towards the dojo, Raphael's eyes glazed over as he followed the sounds of his brother's voice.
Raphael was near the doorway when he heard Master Splinter. Leonardo was not alone. Scratch one brother.
Growling in annoyance, Raphael turned away and started his search all over again.
Michelangelo. He'd be up for it; Michelangelo was always up for anything.
Where was the imp? Not on the couch, Raphael checked there first. Padding to the kitchen, Raphael discovered it to be empty. Perhaps the lab, bothering the genius.
Halfway there a roaring sound brought Raphael to a quick stop. A flash of orange swept past him, moving in a blur of speed. Michelangelo on his motorized, flying skateboard.
When Michelangelo made another pass, Raphael prepared to spring on him. Legs coiled, muscles taut, Raphael gauged his brother's speed.
It was for naught; Michelangelo curved away from him and aimed his skateboard towards the tunnel entrance. Raphael gave chase but Michelangelo was much too fast. In a second he was gone.
Cursing under his breath, Raphael worked to control his ragged breathing. His hunger was growing stronger. It needed to be sated. Soon. Raphael was growing frantic.
The lab. Donatello. Canines showing in a semblance of a grin, Raphael entered the genius' inner sanctum only to discover that it was empty.
It was all he could do not to roar out his frustration. Beating his fists against his thighs, Raphael worked to quiet himself. Master Splinter could not be made aware of him. Not right now.
Think. It was hard, Raphael's mind was fuzzy. Donatello was predictable. Not in the lab, not in the dojo. Not in the lair at all. Garage.
His hearing attuned to the dojo, Raphael stole over to the elevator, entering it quickly lest his father suddenly appear. The Y'Lyntian creation lifted him with speed and silence.
Heart thumping in anticipation, Raphael slinked across the garage, his eyes shifting right and left. There was no sign of Donatello, but the faint beat of classic rock gave away the fact that the genius was somewhere about.
Raphael began to stalk him, tracking his brother without a sound. Quivering with excitement, Raphael scented the air, picking up the unique smell that signaled his quarry was near.
And there he was, under the Battle Shell. The clanking of tools gave away Donatello's position.
Raphael approached, his vision suddenly filled with the sight of Donatello's muscular calves and the smooth expanse of a pair of toned olive green thighs.
Licking his lips, Raphael drew stealthily nearer, until he was standing at Donatello's feet. Reaching down, his hands swiftly closed around his brother's ankles and he yanked Donatello from under the vehicle.
"Hey!" Don exclaimed, looking up in indignation. "What the heck are . . . .?"
He stopped talking as soon as he saw Raphael's face. He dropped the tools he was holding when Raphael lifted and pulled his legs apart. He inhaled sharply when Raphael kneeled between his spread thighs.
"Horny Raph?" Don asked, rather unnecessarily.
"Hell yeah," Raph answered. "Don't even try to get away."
Donatello grunted as Raphael loomed over him, pressing against his body. "Why would I? You'd just hunt me down again."
"Damn straight I would," Raph replied hungrily. "Just lie back and relax Donny-boy. It's time for my feast."
Amidst a chorus of whimpers and churrs, Raphael proceeded to ravage his prey.
End