Author's Note: Thank you for the thoughtful comments last chapter, guys. You might need a tissue for this one.
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Chapter Twelve: Stolen
That night, something woke Donnie with a start. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what it was, then gasped silently as something scraped up his instep. The feeling wasn't painful, but strong, causing his sore stomach to involuntarily clench.
A gentle chuckle reached him, and he looked toward his feet, straining to see his visitor.
Jan.
Donnie's heart rate tripled. He blinked a few times, in the wild hope that this was a nightmare, as she strolled along the table, trailing one hand up his inner thigh, letting it linger briefly between his legs, before continuing the journey up his plastron.
"You were really out of it! Tired?"
Donnie knew she was grinning. He didn't have to look at her - couldn't look. His mind was replaying their last encounter in mortifying detail.
He flinched violently away as he felt her lips on the side of his mouth, belatedly recognizing it as a kiss. Truly shocked, Donatello turned to stare up at her with wide eyes, hating that he was so afraid of her, that his palms were starting to sweat and his breathing had become so fast.
Jan pursed her lips, the mockery of sympathy in her eyes.
"Was that your first kiss? Hm."
She snorted softly, eyes narrowing playfully as her hand reached to caress his cheek, making the muscles in his neck pull even tighter, hard as wire. Her touch was gentle, slender fingers sliding down, probing toward the base of his neck. He watched, in confusion and fear, as she slowly bent forward and put her mouth to his chest, just above his plastron. When her tongue slid over his collarbone, he squirmed under her, trying futiley to pull away, heart beating even faster in mortification as she somehow unbalanced him completely, brought him into his body in the worst way, forcing him to feel, forcing him to be afraid again...
Donnie swallowed, voice high and wavering, panicked, willing to say anything to make her stop. "I thought I was freak..." His voice cracked on the last, hurtful word.
At his words, she did stop. Jan straightened up, then leaned forward, and Donatello stared into her dark eyes, so close to his, and clenched his teeth as she started to laugh, loud and long, her incisors, just a little too sharp, flashing in the light.
As she pulled out a kunai, Donnie realized, late, that the guards weren't at the double doors.
They were alone.
Karai had Donatello's video feed on a forty-five minute timer now. When the beeping alert sounded off, she shifted around, switching to brushing her teeth with the other hand, and tapped her phone to pull up the spy camera app.
An instant later she gasped, choking on the toothpaste in her mouth, and bent over the sink to spit. Coughing, eyes wide with shock, she rushed to the bedroom and started throwing her day clothes back on.
That bitch...Harada Jan...
Karai paused, hesitating for just a second, then ran to a clothes drawer, and drew out a sweatshirt with a hood; dark and unmemorable. Then she pocketed her phone, and sprinted for the door.
At some point while carving into his plastron, Jan had straddled him, resting her weight on his injured thigh.
Donatello stared up at the ceiling, dazed from pain, tears streaming down his cheeks. She hadn't said anything since his comment earlier, silently torturing him, focused as Fishface had been on her "work".
With a clink, he heard her set the kunai down. Donnie had screamed, had been screaming, since she started, but now he held himself as still as he could, every nerve focused on what Jan might do next. He panted, holding in the urge to moan, as she shifted on his thighs to lean forward.
Then he felt her tongue again, on his plastron, away from where she had cut him. The feel of her soft, wet mouth, after the excruciating pain of the knife, did something horrible to him.
A gasping sob escaped his lips. It was the contrast between the two, heightening the sensation of her mouth on his stomach, and the invasiveness of it; the unbearable memories of her laughing, holding his most private parts in her hand...
It felt like he was shattering.
Donnie felt her lips curve in a smile against him, and closed his eyes, unable to hold back the sobs.
In the cab, Karai pulled her phone out again. With eyes narrowed to a squint, as if that might help protect her from what she was seeing, Karai watched the tiny image, much like someone would watch a doctor performing surgery on them which didn't require sedation.
Karai wasn't the kind of person to flinch at a little blood. She wasn't coddled, or trained by half measures. She understood the world of the ninja, and embraced it as her own. She knew what suffering looked like.
Even so, she put a hand to her mouth, eyes trapped by what was happening on the screen. As if waking from a spell, she finally jerked her eyes away. She bowed her head for a long moment, eyes closed.
Then Karai leaned forward, yelling at the cabbie. "Don't you know what an emergency is!? Step on it!"
With a trembling hand and a calming breath to steel herself, she brought the phone back up.
By the time Karai got there, she was already five minutes too late. Jan was gone.
Not that she cared. She knew who Harada Jan was, what she was. And Karai knew where to find her. And she would find her, her allegiance to the Foot be damned. She wasn't worthy of...of existing on this planet.
At some point during the trip in the cab, it had ceased to matter that Donatello was the enemy.
She just. Didn't. Care.
Nothing mattered right now, except getting him out of this place, tonight.
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AN: *Ducks flying objects* So. Is there a character in this story you feel like maiming (or killing) yet? Karai sure does!
