I thought I knew pain in your absence. It is nothing compared to the pain of having ya here besides me. Your scent fills the lair once again. It's lingering tendrils wafting over me and drawing the dull ache of desire taunt between my legs. The cold burn of the shower every morning helps. I stand shivering in the icy water and I feel something other than the ghost of your touch.
A month ago, back we went up against the stone generals, there was a moment in the elation of our victory that I felt that spark from long ago. The fawning adoration on ya face when I pulled you from the cage was more than I could bear. I turned away willing the wall of my anger to rise up between us again. But instead I was swept by an unbearable desire to hold you, to reassure myself that you were whole and with us again. I swear I envied the stone of our enemies hearts.
In the aftermath things at home have settled into a routine. I try and put a brave face on it, knowing what my anger has wrought. Our family is complete again it should be enough, but it isn't.
I want to free myself from the shadows of the tenderness we once shared. Ya taught me by yer absence and presence in turns that hope is the cruelest master. Still I say nothing, patrolling every night, eating meals in silence, trying to hold my shit together for fear of fracturing our brittle family. I avoid ya as much as my short leash will allow.
I will fight for you, and I would die for you. If you ordered it, I would march against all of our enemies at once, face the great waves of steel and anger, with my back against the wall and my death in their eyes. These days I fear living more.
There is a softness in your gaze some nights that stirs things in me. Other times you get this look in your eyes, and I know you are with us and yet not with us. Standing besides me in the flesh you are back in the jungle. Tracing the stars of the southern hemisphere, a hundred thousand miles away in your mind. And all this time under your curious glances and distant sighs I am burning deep in my core, fire a constant threat to our once again quiet lives. I don't want these feelings anymore.
It's a slow night, and ya find me lifting weights in the dojo, ya come in silent as a shadow. I don't even notice you're there until one of your strong hands is on my shoulder turning me towards you. The familiar calluses sear my skin. I keep my head down trying to look anywhere but at you.
"Raph, we need to talk." Your voice is firm.
"Please." I hate the fragility of my voice. My face is hot and my shell suddenly feels to tight across my chest.
"Please what Raph?" you continue unyielding.
"Please don't make me love you again." my voice shakes, my vision blurs with unshed tears. I hate you seeing me like this. But I hate that you can still make me feel like this even more.
"Oh, Raphael" your hand slides from my shoulder around to my shell pulling me against you. Your other hand lifts, coming to cradle the back of my head. I can't decide if I want to fall into your arms or if I want to sucker punch you.
You smell amazing, feel even better against me than I remember. It takes everything I have to stand still, hands clenched at my sides- so tight I can feel my nails cutting half moons into the thick skin of my palms. Your body rocks gently against mine, for a moment my heart slips its coffin. I bite my tongue desperate to stifle the sob that hitches my throat. The sharp coppery taste of blood fills my mouth, and very carefully I take a steadying breath.
After a minute you draw back, seeming puzzled by my lack of response. You aren't used to me holding out on you, especially not emotionally.
Your eyes widen suddenly, rare anger flashing across your face. "Is it Mikey?" you hiss the words barely a whisper. I let the silence drag on, relishing the sudden warmth of my answering anger. It feels good to be angry again, a familiar shield around my battered heart.
Your face falters as I glare back at you. "Raph, just tell me. when I came home I could s-smell you both tha-that you had been t-together in my room."
I keep my mouth clamped shut, and through narrowed eyes I watch you fall apart. "I asked him." you whisper "he s-said t-that you had sex." your visibly shaking now and I feel a feral grin part my lips. "b-but h-he said you weren't together."
I smile wickedly as I reply "Yeah, I fucked Mikey." my voice is raising to match my temper "Mikey's a sweet fucking lay." your responding wince is better than if I had sucker punched ya. "We're not together, so your totally welcome to hit that." you look stricken as I roll on, shouting full out now. "Shit Leo, you could pick up some pointers." I'm already heading for the door feeling better than I have in a month "He's better than you!" I roar as I yank the door open.
I nearly froze as I catch sight of Mike and Don in the living room. Mikey's liquid eyes are huge and as round as dinner plates. Donnie looks furious. Well, fuck 'um. I've got momentum now and the comfortable shield of my rage. I barrel towards the lair exit.
"Wait, Raphael!" I look over my shoulder, to see you framed in the light spilling from the dojo. Seeing the dark stain of real tears on your mask almost undoes me. I almost run back to wrap you my arms around you, almost throw myself at your feet just to be close to you again, almost, almost. Instead I shout back "You're to fucking late Leo!" and then I'm running down dark tunnels.
