Scent 2

((A/N: Went through and fixed some errors I saw. Changed some paragraphs and the ending. New Chapter coming soon. Feel free to leave a review guys. I know it's supposed to be bad taste to ask, but if I spend my time writing these the least you can do is send a little feedback. I'm not writing to be validated or liked. I legitimately write because I enjoy it and want to get better. Getting better means getting advice on what you could improve upon. ))

They slept with each other all the time. Had slept together all the way up until they were ten, the four of them squishing around on a mattress only big enough for two. It wouldn't be odd. Wouldn't be a stretch for Donnie to believe he'd come to him with purely innocent intentions. He'd done it countless time before, tip-toeing down the hall late at night, peering through the darkness at the stream of silvery light pouring out from the crack in Donnie's door.

Squinting in through said crack he spies his older brother clacking away on his keyboard, headphones stretched over top his head. He doesn't hear Mikey come in, but he feels him, a sense picked up from years of living in such close quarters. It was like that with all his brothers. He could identify them by step, by the way they breathed.

And the way they smelled.

Donnie glances over his shoulder, greeted with the rough, slowly retreating surface of Mikey's carapace as he makes his way across the room to the bed, sliding himself backward against the wall, legs dangling over the edge. Donnie can't hear, but he's almost certain from the way his brother is kicking his legs and nodding that he's humming some song.

They lock eyes and Mikey puts on his best 'Poor Waif' look, drooping his shoulders in an attempt to look as small and forlorn as possible. Donnie didn't look in the mood for company. But maybe he could convince him to be if he came up with a good enough lie. He didn't want to leave. It smelled too good in here. The perfume that was Donatello's scent covered everything. There was no room anything else. Not the sickly smoke rising from his chem lab…the odious stench wafting over from Timothy's container…nothing. Mikey couldn't smell it. Was unable to be repulsed by it.

'I'll tell 'im I had a nightmare. That'll work.', Mikey thinks, sifting through scenarios in his mind of what he'd do and say when finally his brother came to him. He imagines Donnie holding him…the two of them wrapped around each other under the blankets—their guard against the waste swirling overhead. It's a sappy, stupidly romantic image. But then, Mikey was a sappy, stupidly romantic person.

As Donnie rises from his chair, doffing his headphones and glasses he ruminates on the intimacy of his thoughts and this otherwise completely innocent moment with his younger brother. Salted caramel. He'd been smelling it all day and up until dinner time had attributed it to the several cups of coffee he'd had, flavored with fancy store bought creams. Pho had no trace elements of any of the things in the cream he used. And he'd brushed his teeth four times that day on the off chance April came over for a visit.

Thunder. Rain. They couldn't see it down where they lived, but they could always hear it. Could tell when it was getting close from the rising of the water in the tunnels. It was early spring. The beginning of April.

Donnie blanches as he crawls into bed, that sweet salty smell hitting him full on in the face. How could it have taken him this long to realize? The continuous rushing of water and knocking of pipes—the sticky, humid air and awful smells. Well…awful save for the thing sitting in front of him. How could he not have guessed it? He was in heat. And so was Mikey. Raph and Leo likely were too; evidenced by how aggressive they'd been in training lately.

Spared the need of initiating the contact he craves, Mikey wounds his arms around his elder brothers neck. Plan of action out the window…all rational thought erased…he pulls him down onto the bed with him, clamping his mouth down on the underside of Donnie's chin, sucking the tender flesh into his his part, Donnie says nothing. Does nothing. Just closes his eyes and allows him-self to pawed. The lights are off with a snap of his fingers, the blankets pulled up not long after.

'He smells so good.', Is the general consensus of the two, moving up and down each-others bodies with tongue and teeth, silencing too loud moans with fervent kisses. Donatello's momentary hesitation nearly stills Mikey. Makes him pause and look up at him briefly in question. He didn't know. Hadn't thought about it at all. None of them had, other than Donnie, the sole source of information in the house besides their father.

Mikey didn't know about the taboo regarding what they were doing. Brothers weren't supposed to kiss each other. Weren't supposed to want one another the way they wanted each other in this instance. But then…most brothers weren't mutant turtles. That was how Donnie rationalized it. How he made it right. They were different. Human commonality, law...those things don't really apply to them.

"It's complicated Mikey", he rasps, face hot, tiny beads of sweat dotting his forehead, lips shining with moisture from the parted, dripping slit in his brothers tail, cock head only just visible.

Lowering his head before continuing Donnie gives it another long, leisurely lick. Tasting it; blushing so his cheeks nearly glow in the dark.

"Donnie please…I don't care! Just keep doing that!"

Mikey circles his hands over the back of Donnie's neck, pulling, so struck by the feel of his tongue darting out for him again he unsheathes, cock springing forward. Streaking Donatello's cheek with pre-cum. Damn whatever nonsense Donnie had to say. He didn't have the patience, and at this stage, Donnie didn't have a whole lot left either. Giving his lips a cursory moistening with his tongue, he opens his mouth wide, wraps a hand around the base and slides Mikey's purple, pointed prick over his tongue. Guides himself down the thick, veined length till' he can take no more.

He sucks hard, cheeks tenting, hands spreading out to grip Mikey at the hips, holding him in place. Keeping him from clamping his thighs down around his head. The slurps…the slap of skin on skin, and the delicious aroma of sex trapped in the pocket of air around them drive Donnie to distraction and it isn't long before he's rolling his hips down into the mattress into his own sticky mess, riding out his orgasm. Moaning around Mikey's twitching cock.

The owner of said piece is not far behind, biting down on his lip to keep from crying out too loudly. Mikey thinks to pull back, not wanting to choke Donnie, but he's held fast.

…And more surprised than is polite to say when Donatello rises, and flops next to him, spent, cum smeared on the side of his face.

"Wow.."

"Wow what?"

"You've done this before haven't you?..", Mikey asks, blinking through the dark, a curious look on his face. He hadn't expected to get anything more than just a few kisses and a little petting. And then..blow job. Not that he hadn't enjoyed it. It was just the last thing he'd expected. When had Donnie had time to pick up that particular skill?

Donnie doesn't answer him. He just lays there, blinking lazily at him, lips pursed. Wondering why after all that, he was still talking. Reaching down and grabbing the skewed sheet and coverlet he adjusts it, covers them both. Then wraps his arms around Mikey, burrowing his face into the crook of his neck. He didn't have any big secret he was keeping. No lover waiting in the wings. He'd just...acted on instinct. Moved the way it seemed like he supposed to. There was no thought in it. No planning.

"G'night Mikey", he whispers, nuzzling him.

'Instinct...scent. Maybe I could apply some of this of to my training..'

-End