Some Jonatello fluff. Because apparently I'm now shipping the gappy boys. Thanks a lot, fandom. I blame you and your sexy art and fanfics.
When Casey stole a kiss from Don in his lab late one night, he had honestly expected a similar response to Raphael's definite hell no. What he hadn't counted on was Don's overabundant curiosity. The kiss had been returned, thoughtfully, slowly, an exploration more than a passionate response. But the heat had built as they grew bolder, more willing to taste, to investigate with hands and lips and tongue.
Which was how they'd ended up here, days later, leaning against the wall outside the bedrooms, his arm around Don's neck as they kissed, Don's hands sliding down to creep under Casey's tshirt, hands curving around his waist, fingers pressing against his skin. Large, strong hands, the skin just a touch cooler than human temperature so each caress was like water sweeping over his flesh, sending delicious shivers up his spine.
The thought of what those hands might be doing one day in the near future was just killing him inside.
Voices approached and they pulled apart. This was too new, too fragile for exposure. They needed time, and space, to work out these feelings, to explore these new sensations. But oh, he really didn't want to stop, not now, not with the warmth growing in his belly, the tension in his chest, the pressure building in his jeans.
Don grabbed Casey's hand and in one swift movement dragged him down the hall and into his bedroom. The door clicked closed behind them. Casey found his back pressed against the door, Don's eyes focused on his.
"Stealthy," he managed to say, his voice rough and uneven.
"It's a ninja thing," said Don. Casey was glad to hear that Don's voice was none too steady, either.
He pulled Don close and kissed him, pleased that they were a similar height now. Don's hands slid down his chest, tugging at the cloth of his tshirt. Don pushed the shirt up, breaking the kiss to coax it over Casey's shoulders. Casey raised his arms, finished pulling it off himself and tossed it away. Don's hands gripped his shoulders and drew him in for another kiss.
Footsteps sounded outside. Don stepped back but didn't break the kiss, his hands on Casey's shoulders drawing him across the room. Casey's leg hit the side of the bed and they tumbled on to it together. Don shifted and Casey found himself lying half-under Don, Don's leg thrown across his.
Don pulled out of the kiss. His gaze followed his hands as they slid along Casey's collarbone to rest in the little divot at the base of Casey's neck. They paused there for a moment and then slid down to his chest.
Casey was proud of his body. College hockey meant daily training sessions and he'd bulked up a lot in the last few years. He'd been complimented on his body by more than one lover. But watching Don explore was a heady experience. Don took his time, tracing each muscle, gently kneading with his fingers, stroking with his thumb. The serious expression, the way he concentrated on every rise and dip of Casey's build was enchanting. Casey was torn between enjoying the sensations shooting through his body and watching Don's face.
Don looked up and caught Casey watching him. His hand stopped moving. "Sorry. I'm new to this."
Casey caught Don's fingers in his and squeezed them gently. "Never been with a guy?"
"No."
Casey smiled and released Don's hand. Don's fingers skittered up his chest with a feather-light touch. "Well that's okay, I've never been with a turtle before."
Don's eyes widened. "I thought you and Raph…"
"Raph wasn't interested." Casey shivered as Don's fingers brushed over a nipple.
"Does that feel good?"
Casey nearly said well, duh, but of course Don didn't have nipples. "Yeah," he managed. Don's fingers returned, stroking and pinching with a firm touch. Casey lost himself in the feeling, swallowing against the surge of desire as Don's fingers teased him. He wanted to reach out to him but he didn't want to move, didn't want to break this.
He was unprepared when Don ducked his head down to swipe a rough tongue across Casey's nipple. Casey jerked and cried out, his hands gripping Don's shoulders.
"Ah, success," said Don, looking far too pleased with himself.
"Damn you. I'm not an experiment, Don." This was crazy. It was like a battle, and his opponent definitely had the advantage in this position. Time to turn the tables. He grabbed Don's arm, hooked his leg around Don's and flipped him over on his back.
He liked the look of Don sprawled across the bed, all long limbs and muscles. He wanted to lean down and bite him. So he did, sinking his teeth not at all gently into Don's neck beneath the curve of his jaw.
Don didn't gasp, didn't make a sound, but Casey was getting attuned to him now and felt the catch in his breath. It was all about the breathing with Don, the subtle changes, the soft sighs, the sharp intake of breath as Casey moved down his neck and into the hollow of his collarbone, tasting the salt on his skin, enjoying the texture of it, so different to human skin, rougher and cooler but still sensitive to tongue and teeth.
Don wrapped his arms around Casey and pulled him in close, skin to skin. They moved slowly against each other, Casey exploring with lips and tongue, Don's hands sliding across his back, tracing the muscles with strong fingers. He shifted beneath Casey, slid his hands down to grasp Casey's hips. Casey growled into Don's neck. Damn it. He was losing again.
Casey sat up, moved to sit astride Don's hips. Don had a half-smile on his face, and he could tell by his narrowed eyes that there was a lot of tick tick going on in that brain. This was both exciting and concerning.
Casey leaned down and dragged his nails down Don's plastron. Don's eyes went wide. Casey slid his hands across the hardened flesh, fingering the grooves between the plates, stroking the edges where the plastron melted into softer flesh, finding all the tender, sensitive places. At every catch in Don's breath he would pause and let his fingers explore, searching, teasing, revelling in the arch and twist of Don's body as he reacted to Casey's touch. He kept his gaze locked with Don's, not letting him look away.
Control issues? No, he didn't have control issues. Not at all.
He slid his hand lower, shifted aside so he could stroke his fingers down the inside of Don's thigh, was rewarded with a half-gasp. Now he was winning.
Then Don surged up, wrapped an arm around Casey's neck and pulled him down. Don's hand slid down Casey's chest, across his belly, over his waistband. The hand rubbed across the front of his jeans, firm, strong pressure on his growing erection. No. No. Yes. Oh god. He was going to lose it. He shuddered as he tried to control the raging need to give in to that delicious pressure and grind himself against Don's hand like an animal.
Time to fight back. He dragged his fingers down Don's plastron, slipped his hand between Don's legs, into unfamiliar territory. He suddenly realised he had no idea what he would find. How did they-? What did they-? For the first time he felt nervous, and paused. But hell, he was Casey Jones. When had he ever backed away from anything?
He rubbed his hand across the smooth flesh between Don's legs, spreading his fingers, exploring with a firm touch, searching further. His questing fingers followed the curve of flesh and found the short, muscular tail. At his touch it curved around his hand, startling him. He wrapped his fingers around the length of it. Don shifted his hips, his breath changing subtly, deeper, harsher. Casey felt movement within the tail.
Oh, there. Right.
He grinned and stroked with firm pressure, was rewarded with a gasp, an actual gasp from Don. Whatever this was, it was going places, and fast.
"Movie's starting!" Mikey yelled from somewhere outside.
Mikey's shout bought them both crashing back to reality. They pulled apart, breathless, trembling.
"Damn it." Casey leaned on Don's shoulder, listened to Don's frantic heartbeat, an echo of his own. He didn't want to stop. But there was no question of staying here, being conspicuously absent from the group. Not yet. Later, when they were comfortable with each other, with this thing. But not now.
Don pulled him up for a kiss, long and slow, full of promises. He slid off the bed, bent down to pick up Casey's shirt and tossed it to him with a smile. Casey was pleased to see him lean against the wall for a moment before he slipped through the door.
Casey sat in the dim room after Don had left, giving his body time to calm down. He pulled his shirt over his head. He couldn't stop smiling, and wondered how he was going to manage the rest of the night without telegraphing his attraction to everyone else in the lair.
When his breathing was back to normal, he left the room. Casey came out into the pit just as Raphael looked in his direction. He could see the wheels turning in Raph's head. Raph's eyes widened, and he glanced at Don, then back to Casey. Casey gave him his biggest grin. Raph rolled his eyes and looked back at the TV, but there was a flicker of amusement in his expression.
Casey flopped down onto the seat near Raphael. He could see Don out of the corner of his eye, stretched out in his usual position in the corner. He sighed, and tried to focus on the movie. But his body kept reminding him of Don's touch, and he knew he wouldn't remember a thing about the movie later.
That half hour in Don's bedroom, though, that he wouldn't forget.