Okay, I take no blame for this. Someone on Tumblr asked if the fandom was shipping Donatello x milk now, due to a flood of Donatello drinking milk pics. And I just...couldn't resist.
Donatello slipped into the kitchen, glancing around for his brothers. He could hear the sound of combat coming from the dojo. It was now or never. He opened the door of the fridge with a hand that shook. Was there…oh god yes. There was half a carton of milk left. He swallowed against the rising desire to just grab the carton, chug down that delicious, cold sweetness. No. He needed to control this…this feeling. But his heart skittered in his chest, nervous, expectant.
Gently he wrapped his hand around the carton, feeling the hard edges bite into his palm. The sensation traveled down his arm, into his belly, so warm and familiar. As he raised the carton, the contents sloshed against the cardboard sides, begging to be drunk. He longed for it, the touch of cold against his tongue, the fullness of it in his mouth.
Then the carton was against his lips, unbidden. He opened his mouth, tipped his head back and the sweet, delicious coolness flooded across his tongue. He swallowed, and swallowed again, feeling the cold seep down to his belly. Oh god. He leaned against the table, shaking with desire.
It wasn't enough. He needed it all. With a groan he tipped his head back, letting the cold fluid cascade down his chin, his throat, over his chest, pooling in the hollow of his collarbone. Oh god, it was so cold, so good.
He didn't stop until the carton was empty, until his whole body shuddered with the chill, his nostrils full of the scent of milk. It dripped down his carapace, his legs, to pool on the floor in a sticky smear.
When his breathing had quietened and his legs stopped shaking, he tossed the carton in the trash, and wrote milk on the shopping list. He heard his brothers coming out of the dojo and hurried into the shower, ashamed but so elated, so buoyant. He could never get enough of this feeling. In the shower he scrubbed off the evidence of their union, slowly, his fingers lingering on the sticky remnants.
"Hey!" yelled Mikey from the kitchen. "Who spilled milk all over the floor?"