AN: There will be a new soundtrack on Spotify for this story. All my current soundtracks can be found there too. Need to find them? Put "spotify:_user:_ombre._des_.dieux" in the Spotify search bar. You'll have to take out the '_' I added them because the fan-fiction algorithm messed it up otherwise.

Darkest Emotions

The alley reeked.

Raphael wrinkled his beak behind the protective shield of his motorcycle helmet and sighed. Normally, his constitution was like iron when it came to smell, not surprising considering where he grew up and still called home.

But this place is foul!

Urine, feces, vomit, and spoiled food all vied for his attention—each with its own form of vile putrescence. Even the harsh winter cold couldn't cut the stench which threatened to turn his stomach. For a half-second, Raph paused to consider why it was so hard to tune them out.

Probably 'cause I'm horney.

That made sense to him without a Donatello-style lecture. Scent was an intrinsic part of mating in the animal kingdom. Instinctively, he must be tuning in to see if the female in front of him was aroused; though he needn't bother. In the human world, there were other ways to tell if a woman wanted him.

Raphael ran his gaze appreciatively over the rear end of the one walking before him, admiring a few of those ways. She strutted provocatively, flaunting her long legs in a mini skirt despite the winter air. She swung her generous hips and flipped her blonde ponytail as she speared him with a glance over her shoulder.

She definitely seemed interested.

A stinking alley at the close of a long, cold night could hardly be considered a romantic rendezvous but...

It ain't like I can take her home. And romance?

Romance was reserved for those you loved—the object of your deepest devotions. That kind of desire was something he'd never be able to realize.

Not in the cards for a giant mutant turtle.

The most he could hope for—at least, all he could afford—were these quick quarterly acts of anonymous relief with Silvy. He couldn't honestly call their meetings sex. Not really. There wasn't enough contact for that.

Just my dick an' her cunt. Wet heat makin' me groan. Her pantin' an' the slap of leather against her bare ass. The thrusting, searchin' for a high barely out of reach and then—pure, sweet release...

Raphael's cock swelled and pressed tightly against the inside of his plastron as such shadowy thoughts reawakened desire. The pressure made him twist uncomfortably in the black motorcycle leathers hiding his flesh, displacing the plastic of the hollow hard-sided backpack disguising his shell. With a mental growl, he seated the pack again with a quick shift of his weight.

The outfit covering him head to toe was not as complex as his retired Nightwatcher armor, but it did the trick when he needed to go out and remain unseen.

Luckily, Silvy didn't notice. She was too busy flirting. Raph shook his head. No matter how many signals she flashed, she didn't actually want him. Her behavior was a performance. A sham.

I'm a job. A john. No girl in her right mind wants to get with a green non-human monster. 'Specially a muscle-bound one with a thick shell.

The thought nearly turned him off again but Raphael needed this. Needed her to make him cum.

There's no way around it. It's too late to put it off...

Tonight was his last chance to slip away from the lair. The weather was about to shut them all inside with a blizzard forecast the likes of which New York had never seen. That's if Donatello's climate maps were right.

An' Don's rarely wrong...

So Raphael gave up fighting with his guilt and self-hatred, fixing his gaze on Silvy's swaying hips; imagining them gripped tight between his hands. Treating her as a sex object, when he understood—better than anyone—her life on the streets felt selfish and more than a little bit wrong.

But not wrong enough to stop him. The price was justified.

Raph wasn't sure how his brothers handled their desires but this was the only way he found to keep his urges, and temper, in check. There was no way around it. Without an occasional sexual fix, life would not remain copacetic at home.

And things were tense enough there right now...

The pressure's gonna keep risin' unless I let out some of this heat! An' masturbation's got nothing on intercourse.

Lust was not a new experience for Raphael. None of the turtles had actually needed Splinter's delicate explanation during their teenage years about the 'facts of life.' The ever-curious Donatello researched sex on both the human and animal side of things early on...

An' the internet filled in the rest.

Raph snorted under his breath. Every sort of sexual proclivity the mind could imagine existed online in living color. Some of it he found stimulating, some sickening. But by 17, Raphael had determined that despite their new-found physical maturity—romantic love and a permanent partner were going to be out of the question.

Now in his late 20's, he knew he was right. In the intervening 11 years the brothers had not gone on a real date; much less formed a lasting physical relationship with anyone.

But then, how could we?

Even if one ignored the glaringly obvious issue of their mutation, being a ninja also meant meeting someone was problematic. If they did their job right, most of the people they rescued never saw them.

A few caught a glimpse, then screamed and ran. A VERY few they trusted and brought into their confidence. Of those—the ones who proved their loyalty and ability to keep the Hamato family a secret—exactly zero ever hinted at an interest in a relationship beyond that of friends or bodyguards.

Gratitude only extends so far, and if they needed OUR help the stuff they were sufferin' was usually pretty fuckin' bad.

Trauma didn't work love miracles like it did in the movies.

The last thing victims need is a face-ta-face with a bunch of horny freaks.

There it was. His own personal 'f' word. Freak. It pissed him off to think it, but the term fit.

Now he was definitely not in the mood. Raphael slowed.

Silvy glanced back as if sensing his loss of interest. She turned toward him and smiled, leaning against the wall and raising her knee in a provocative manner that hiked her skirt. She gestured him forward.

"This'll do fine right here," she whined in a nasal voice. "Come on, handsome. Ya already paid."

"Yeah, about 'dat..." Raphael began.

She shook her head, setting her ponytail dancing.

"No refunds now. You know the boss don't stand for that."

Raph frowned. He didn't want to cause trouble with her pimp and the svelte movement of her hair distracted him. Silvy's long locks were one reason he chose this particular 'working' girl to patronize. He found hair irresistibly attractive.

Without conscious thought, he moved closer and caught the smooth ponytail with one gloved hand. She grabbed his other one and set it on her hip.

"That's it baby," she cooed.

Silvy leaned up to breathe on the face shield of his helmet, fogging the one-way mirror between them. She drew a little heart in the mist with her finger and winked at him through it.

"Don't be shy. You should know by now I'm good with whatever you got goin' on under there."

She 'knew' Raph from long association—or thought she did. She had never seen him without his leathers, though he and Casey often swung through this neighborhood on their 'extra' patrols.

The vigilantes had interfered in a number of dicey situations where her clients got out of hand. Apparently, looking out for her and the other girls without expecting anything in return had earned him some brownie points.

Doubt it's enough to offset this ugly mug.

She tapped his helmet. "What are you hidin' baby? Scars? I'll kiss 'em all better. You ain't got nothin' I ain't seen before, so why dont'cha take that off and let me rock your world."

He shook his head and Silvy pursed lips stained blood-red into a pout. After a few seconds of shrewd examination, she arched a brow. "Would you rather I be kissin' somethin' else then?"

Sliding down Raph's front, she gripped his pant's zipper with her teeth.

He grabbed her arms and jerked her upright, spinning her to face the wall. She let out a breathy little shriek, though Raphael was careful—if not truly gentle—as he pushed her palms flat against the damp cold bricks.

He leaned barely enough weight on her back to pin her.

"No, hon. We talked about this, remember?" he murmured in her ear. "We do this my way. I like the rearview. Unless you've changed your mind?"

Raphael eased back, giving her the chance to leave, but he knew she wouldn't. This was Silvy's job; her life. She needed the cash. He needed her—at least temporarily.

None a' us can walk away from who—or what—we are.

Besides, he wasn't asking for anything pervy, just straight intercourse from behind.

Silvy sighed and grabbed the back of her mini skirt, lifting it up until her hips peeked out. She wasn't wearing any underwear. Arching her back, she bent over and pressed her ass firmly against him. That was all the consent he required.

Raphael shuddered and drew back to unzip, letting his cock spring out into the cold air. The slightly rough foreplay had re-sparked his lust. He couldn stop himself and he didn't want to. He didn't want to feel anymore. He seized the proffered hips and slid inside Silvy in one smooth motion.

Swallowing a moan, Raph began to thrust.

"Someday, I'll see what yer hidin' big boy,'' she muttered through a gasp. Dutifully, she closed her eyes and pushed back, using her hands for leverage.

"An' whatever yer worried about won't make a shred of difference. Me an' the girls—we know where your heart is."

Heart don't matter, darlin'. You'd take one look at my face and scream in horror that I've been inside you.

Raphael didn't bother to reply aloud, he merely thrust harder; his groan drowning out Silvy's softer sounds. He braced himself against the wall above her and was moments away from bliss when a resounding thwack and a sharp pain in his hand derailed him.

He roared and pulled out as adrenaline forced him into fight mode.

Raph spun pushing the girl protectively behind him. Drawing a sai from a concealed pouch on his belt, he scanned the alleyway for intruders.

Silvy stared around wide-eyed, but he didn't worry about her seeing something large and green that she should not. His body had withdrawn his cock in shock.

I wasn't that far gone. Why didn't I sense the bastard approaching?

Nothing larger than a rat moved in the alley, so he focused on where his hand had rested. A shuriken stuck out from the brick. The throwing star had grazed his finger, shocking him out of his lust-filled haze. The symbol on the side left little question as to who had thrown it.

I didn't sense danger because there was none.

Raphael's thwarted lust morphed into smoldering rage. His eyes narrowed and he grabbed the flat sides of the shuriken, wiggling the weapon free. He jammed it into his pocket to hide the evidence before sheathing his blade.

"What- What's going on?" Silvy demanded while still surveying the darkness. She couldn't see nearly as well in the black as a mutant turtle.

To her, the shadows must hide unspeakable dangers.

"Nothing. We're done," Raph growled. He meant the comment to comfort her but ended up biting off every word. "It's safe enough. Go on back to work."

"What WAS that?"

"A message."

Turning his back, Raphael strode away. For three steps he stayed in the center of the alley but as soon as Silvy looked down to adjust her clothes he used her distraction to fade out of sight.

She appeared startled by his disappearance, then concerned. She strained her eyes searching for a bit but eventually gave up to walk slowly back to the street.

It was late, very late.

The sky is just beginning to remember what light is.

Silvy probably wouldn't take any more customers tonight, but Raph wasn't about to leave before making sure she got back to her corner ok. He took to the rooftops, ghosting along above her until she checked in.

Then, with a fierce expression, Raphael turned towards home and a meeting that was inescapable.

Leonardo has some answering to do.

Leonardo sat poised on the dojo floor and stared at a pinpoint spot in front of him. While his posture might mimic meditation, peace was the farthest thing from his thoughts.

Rage burned in his chest and betrayal churned his stomach. He dared not lift his head for fear of seeing another member of his family. Because, if anyone but Raphael came through that door, Leo would have to explain his fury; describe the shameful, disgusting acts he witnessed. And that would make what he had seen unquestionably real.

Raphael raped that woman!

The mere thought twisted the knife again in Leonardo's heart. How could one of his brothers stoop so low? How could Raphael, the staunchest protector of those on the streets, betray the Hamato name in such a horrible fashion?

Has he lost his mind?

Leonardo wouldn't have even seen it if he hadn't been out taking a quick patrol himself on the last clear night before the storm. The squeak of a woman being surprised had put him on high alert and he tracked the sound to a nearby alley.

He expected the all too familiar sight of some guy, or maybe a group, roughing a woman up in the narrow confines below. New York City, for all its glitz and glamor, was a harsh place despite all the work they did.

Shock held him still, however, as he recognized the silhouette before him. Raphael's form was unmistakable, despite the motorcycle getup he always wore when he went out with Casey.

For one breath, Leo thought Raph must have heard the same noise and had already intervened in whatever shady business had taken place below.

In the next, my world shattered.

Raphael wasn't protecting the woman. He shoved her against the wall, unzipped his pants, and proceeded to do the unthinkable.

Leo's mind blanked. That couldn't be his brother. It had to be someone else. Except, the attacker's hands—palming the walls above the poor trapped woman's head—had only two fingers and a thumb in the gloves.

If he hadn't witnessed the act himself, Leonardo would have rejected any such claims against Raphael out of hand as the worst type of slander. But no amount of wishing could remove the revolting memories from his mind.

In hindsight, Leonardo had noted a wrongness in Raphael before—many times in fact. Odd bouts of tension between Raph and the rest of the family often tested the strength of their bond. The strain would build gradually and, right when Leo was sure they couldn't stand anymore, Raph would do an about-face and the stress melted away.

That same pressure had neared the breaking point, lately. Leonardo couldn't glance in Raph's direction without the hot-head taking offense. Training and patrols remained ok, but when their roles were no longer 'officially' defined, they were butting heads.

It was like Raph had forgotten they were brothers.

Or forgotten who he is...

Now Leonardo understood the magic that intervened in those past circumstances.

Raphael gave in to his darkest emotions.

Throwing away his honor—the one thing they lived by and died for—to keep the peace.

Can he see what he's become?

This development was so unimaginable that Leonardo, master of strategy, had never planned for it. Not in his wildest nightmares had such a scenario ever crossed his mind.

It left him very few options. The most lenient punishment for such a crime would be banishment from the clan. But could he do it? Set Raphael on a path alone when this was a scream for help?

There is still light in my brother—something to fight for. I know it. If he can't stop himself, I must stop him—if I want the family to survive.

The family. Leo groaned mentally. How was he supposed to prepare them for what had to happen now? Especially when he wasn't ready for it. What would this horrendous act of broken trust mean for them? For Splinter?

The heartbreak might kill him...

For that fact alone, Leonardo now regretted throwing that particular weapon to gain Raphael's attention. He might have interrupted the pair with a normal shuriken but in the heat of the moment, Leo had issued a summons he could not revoke.

The star featured the engraved Hamato family symbol and was an official calling out; a rebuke at the highest level. Raphael must now return home immediately and face not only him as clan leader but also their father as clan elder.

I have to question him first. If Raphael has remorse, or any reasonable explanation I will try and mitigate things with sensei.