Paint It Red
Chapter One
Donatello/Raphael
Warning: Turtlecest; swearing; non-con; bondage; bloodplay
Hell yeah, I went there.
I'm not stupid; but it wasn't until Donnie's scalpel sank into my bloodied shoulder that the oddities of our childhood snapped into place with a sickening certainty.
I resisted sagging into the chains, trying to give my mind long enough to sort these new revelations so I could try to figure out how to get out of Donnie's trap. I couldn't move, couldn't blink; not yet. He was waiting for my answer, and I had to figure this out first.
Donnie chose the bo staff as his weapon when we were young, too young to wield the adult versions. Gods, I had teased him, and I regretted that now. Bladed weapons, like my beloved sais, were for real Turtles, I'd sneered with childish arrogance.
But Donnie hadn't whined, or cried, or even frowned. He'd stared back with unsettling eyes and simply nodded. I had mistaken that as a victory and immediately turned to bitch at Leo about something.
I forgot that haunted look until he directed it at me tonight while he snapped the chains in place.
The laboratory slowly lost the traces of childhood. Gone were the rusted toy cars, small wrenches for chubby hands, crudely drawn diagrams in crayon. They were replaced by longer, sharper tools, guts of miscellaneous machines, Donnie's first laptop, and shortly after, our first home server computer. Thicker books lined the walls, covering our painted handprints and Mikey's inane scrawling.
What I found most puzzling was the inclusion of locks. I knew humans used locks to hide things; why did Donnie need them on his drawers and cabinets? He was good at rebuilding the tossed ones he salvaged; I knew that all too well, too late, as the clamps around my legs dug into my muscles with bruising force.
Once we started fighting topside, Donnie began lingering behind if the cops weren't hot on our tails. His reasons were always mumbled to Leo; I frequently hear words such as 'samples', 'safe', and 'data'. Whatever Donnie gathered was hidden away in stolen shirts and backpacks; I finally understood- but not really- why Donnie had locks peppered around the lab.
His equipment matured further; beakers and test tubes, Petri dishes and warming trays for biological research. I assumed whatever he brought home fueled this new obsession, and promptly dismissed it… until I saw the hundreds of tiny vials of blood as he grabbed an empty chilled tube from the fridge.
And then what cinched it- though I didn't connect it with Don's weird habits at the time- was his growing infatuation with me. Donnie had always been more quiet, less likely to start conversations, though he damn well knew how to finish them. He laughed at our antics and jokes, too, but rarely told any of his own until he was older. He didn't initiate hugs or cuddling as children, although he began asking for mine; going so far as to climbing into my bed in the middle of the night for random reasons I was too sleepy to check against logic.
We've grown close over the last few years, even; working together does that for you, I guess. He still wants to be held when there's nightmares, or sit next to me, or tend to small wounds that don't matter. But recently, his touches have started giving me shivers; it's his eyes. They gleam too brightly for a mere hug or friendly punch in the arm.
Still, I shrugged this all away as it's just Donnie- Donnie, who grew up thinking differently than any of us.
I'm clever enough to piece together puzzles, even if it might take longer to think about them. Why hadn't I seen the signs? Because when Donnie asked me to stay up the night and 'help' him, I was completely surprised when the first chain locked around my wrist. I tried to yell as the second caught my other arm, but his hand pressed against my mouth hard enough to slam my head back against the wall.
"No."
That single syllable made me shudder just like his recent looks and touches. His hand was still viciously digging into my lips, so I widened my eyes in question.
"I have waited-," Donnie paused, tilting his head as if considering, "-We have waited long enough for this."
I muffled words through his fingers, trying to ask what, why.
"I know you've noticed my advances," Donnie replied silkily. I jerked as his other hand slid down my side, then gasped into his hold as his fingers gripped the top of my thigh. "Don't tell me you haven't. I've felt it. I've seen you shiver and shake under my ministrations."
I shook my head as much as I was allowed. I tested the slack in the foreign chains, a knot of dread curling in my stomach. This wasn't normal. Donnie loved to tease, but this was going entirely too far. It was too serious.
"Yes," he hissed. A rare fury twisted his soft features, and I stared. This wasn't Donnie; not my soft, sarcastic Donnie that curled on my legs to nap. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was possessed.
"Yes," he said again, more softly, though his eyes still glinted unhealthily. "I'm sorry it's taken so long to prepare for this moment. It has to be perfect; you deserve nothing else, of course."
His hand left my mouth suddenly as he dropped to his knees, and I gasped for breath, too disoriented to look down just yet. Seconds later I had no choice, though, as I felt icy cold bands snap around my thighs.
"D-Donnie, what the hell are ya doin'?" I asked stupidly.
"Keeping you safe," Donnie replied merrily. I yelped as the steel kept retracting against my skin, becoming uncomfortable, then painful before it stopped.
I didn't want to be angry, but being held down could light my fuse as fast as Leo's ugly mug. "What the fuck have ya done?" I snarled, twisting and straining against the chains.
"The body has predetermined reactions to certain emotions and stimuli," Donnie continued as he straightened and stepped back, hungry eyes raking over my body before nodding once. "This will keep you from hurting yourself while I paint you your true colour."
Stimuli? Paint? Colour? "What're ya talkin' about?" I asked, mentally kicking myself for letting my nervousness come through my voice.
"Your skin…" he breathed, closing the distance between us again and nuzzling my chest. I tried and failed to twitch away. "It's beautiful, but I can make it moreso."
"Donnie, ya ain't makin' sense," I snapped. "You been sniffing glue with Mikey again?"
I had time to see the light in his eyes dull and die before he turned away. "Fine. A demonstration is always better, anyways." He twiddled with the lock on the minifridge behind him, then pull the small door open, revealing row upon row of dark test tubes.
When I realized they were filled with congealed blood, I gagged on my exclamation.
"Yours will be the prize of my collection," he said happily as he held up a clean tube.
I still couldn't speak until I saw the flash of metal between his fingers.
"Donnie- No- What the hell are ya thinkin'? Lemme outta this! Yer sick, or- or feverish or somethin', we'll get Leo an-,"
"No," Donnie said again, his mouth digging into a frown. "This is just for us. No one else. No one but you and I, Raphie."
The tendril of fear flew into a full-blown panic as he stepped closer, brandishing the scalpel. I put true effort into freeing myself now, but once again it was too late- I had been doomed the moment the first steel band locked around my wrist. The cruel chains clanked and sang as I struggled, mocking my attempts.
"You've heard of painting the town red?" he said slyly, hooking his empty hand under my chin and pressing against my throat. I choked, unsure if I even needed to reply. "It will be infinitely more satisfying to paint my Raphie red."
"Fuck- Donnie- Don't you fuckin' dare touch me with that shit-,"
"Raphie."
I glared down at him, trying to focus my anger so I wouldn't expose my terror.
"Do you trust me?"
How could he ask me that, with those crazed eyes and hopeful smile and SHIT-
He muffled my scream as the scalpel bit into my shoulder, slicking my skin with blood immediately. Shit,he kept those things sharp.
I snarled through his fingers, snapping and biting, but his eyes only crinkled in a devious smile.
"Of course you can have mine as well. Mix it in with yours…" I watched in horror as he rubbed his bleeding finger into my wound. "Don't worry so much, Raphie. I've done numerous tests and prepared for this moment for months. Nearly a year. You are safe."
"Safe?" I yelled. "Ya think this is safe? Ya think I want this?"
"Ouch, Raphie," Donnie said mildly. "Stop worrying, it's clouding your judgment."
"I know this is wrong!" I bellowed. His finger delved into my sliced skin and I choked and gagged at the feeling. The slickness, the pain, the scrape of his skin inside mine made my stomach lurch.
"Raphie?"
I snapped my eyes up to his again, thankful for the distraction, however small it was.
"Do you trust me?"
[Author's Note]
My wonderful friend Jee (vuravuru from DeviantArt) challenged me to write non-con. Oh boy.
We are both huge uke!Raph fans, so that was a given. XD Also using the excuse to write Mad Scientist Donnie.
As you know, I am a fluff writer. Fluff is easy, mainstream, appeals to many different ages and philosophies. It's cheating, in a way, but it's all I know how to write.
So this is waaaay out of my comfort zone to write (which was the point), so any feedback is appreciated. :3