For a moment, April didn't dare to move — the gentle pressure of Don's mouth against hers was sending warm, delicious shivers through her body, even though he hadn't done more than touch her lips. And though his mouth was strange to her, wider and differently shaped from a human mouth, she felt as though her lips fitted it easily.
For one dark moment, she remembered the last time she had kissed him — back in the cell, as she had tried to arouse and comfort him at the same time. He had been clumsy as he had kissed her back — it was obvious he had never kissed anyone before — but he had actually kissed her back, as passionately as the paralysis had allowed.
But this time she could feel him moving — his legs shifted against hers, and his hands pressed against her back, guiding her deeper into the kiss. He began kissing her almost shyly, his lips moving uncertainly against hers. Her hands clenched on the edge of his shell, pulling him closer to her body as she began to kiss him in return. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and twined with his tongue, and she felt him stiffen briefly at the unfamiliar intrusion.
She felt as though she was almost in a trance as she lost herself against him, every touch of his hands and lips sending heat flooding through her. One of her hands moved up to his face, gently stroking his too-smooth skin and trailing down to his throat. She felt him quiver slightly at the touch, and then his powerful arms tightened around her, drew her in closer, until it felt like the whole front of her body was on fire.
"Don," she whispered as his lips left hers for a moment so both of them could breathe. "Donnie…"
He didn't answer, just nuzzled softly against her, his eyes warm and bright. And then they were holding one another tightly again, her lips searching for his almost desperately. And as they sank into another slow, hesitant kiss, April could feel Don's hands moving her down, lowering her gently to the futon below them, until she could feel the firm couch under her back and Don's plastron pressed against her belly and chest. She gripped his shell and tried to pull him closer, deeper.
Then she felt his weight settling down on her hips, his knee gently nudging her legs apart. And with that, the trance seemed to break. Suddenly she was aware of what they were doing — what they were about to do. She felt shock ripple through her, fighting the warmth radiating from where Don was touching her.
"Don," she gasped. "Don!"
He didn't seem to hear her, or perhaps he thought she was calling out for him for another reason. She could feel him kissing the side of her face, his eyes half-closed, seemingly happy to be lost in her arms. But she couldn't let him. It wasn't right…
"Don, stop! We can't do this!" she said desperately, pressing her palms against his chest.
He stopped moving, and she felt him shift his weight off of her, until he was lying on his side beside her. He looked at her with eyes as deep and clear as lake water, filled with confusion about why she had told him to stop. April sat up sharply, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of her eyes, doing her best not to tremble.
"We can't — we can't do this," she rambled, clutching at his hands. "Don, it isn't right. You — you went through a horrible experience, and — and part of it was what we did, what I forced you to do. Now you're confused and lonely and you — you want to feel the way you did back in that cell… with me." Her voice cracked. "But it isn't right. You're confused, Don, and this shouldn't happen just because… because of what Racer did to you."
The confusion slowly ebbed in his eyes, replaced by something darker and more sorrowful. His gaze slowly turned down towards her hands, tangled together with his, and he sighed deeply.
"I understand, April," he said, his voice so soft that she could barely hear it.
April raised a trembling hand to touch Don's cheek, and for a moment she could remember nothing but how it had felt to kiss him — and then she desperately wanted to do it again. But then she tore herself away, moved swiftly back out into the light of the open lair, leaving Don behind her. She didn't trust herself to be around him right now… not after what had nearly happened between them. Again.
And as if taunting her, the memory of their past intimacy flooded into her head. The taste of Don's lips against hers, the smell of his sweating skin, the way his body had trembled and stiffened as she moved against him, his gasps and faint cries, the slow-building, pulsing pleasure… and guilt flooded her mind, as she remembered that he hadn't consented to any of it. Neither had she. And yet now he craved more. And so did she, even though she knew she shouldn't.
She made her way almost blindly down to the main level. Leo was standing there at the bottom of the stairs, anxious and watchful, and she saw concern cross his face at her visible distress. "What's wrong, April?" he said.
"N—nothing," April said, straightening her shirt and hoping it wasn't too obvious what she had been doing. "But I need to talk to Master Splinter."
"He's in his room," Leo said. "He's been meditating on what to do about Don."
April gratefully rushed over to the shoji door that led to Splinter's private room. She had no idea what to do about Don, but she knew that Splinter would be able to help her — the wise old rat always seemed to know the right thing to do when it came to his sons. She knocked on the door with a shaking hand.
"Come in, Miss O'Neil," his soft voice said.
As she slid the door shut behind her, April breathed a sigh of relief. Splinter's dimly-lit chambers smelled of incense, tea and old cloth; the stone floor was interrupted by tatami mats and a zen stone garden, and a small bonsai tree bloomed on a low table. It was a place that ought to have felt cold, with the high stone walls and floor, but Splinter's influence warmed it into a comforting, safe place.
The mutant rat was pouring tea into two small cups, as if he had been expecting her all along. "Come, sit here," he said quietly.
April felt her stomach twisting as she accepted one of the teacups. She wasn't sure how to tell Splinter what she needed to say. To her mild relief, he seemed to be in no hurry to ask her what had happened — why she looked so disheveled and upset.
"Miss O'Neil," he said quietly. "Leonardo spoke to me about what you attempted with Donatello. I am very grateful for your intervention." He placed a clawed hand on her arm, and looked at the translucent wall that faced out into the living room. "I… have spent many years attempting to prepare my sons for any dangers that they might face. I thought that I had taught them all they would need to know about their enemies."
Until the last few weeks, April had thought the same. The Turtles were only seventeen years old, but they were finely-honed warriors who had been prepared to handle almost any kind of enemy. Their ninja skills — along with Don's scientific knowledge — were enough to keep them safe from almost anything. Almost.
"But this is one thing that I never thought would happen to one of my sons," Splinter said quietly. "And I find it very difficult to know what to do to assuage Donatello's pain. So I am grateful for your help."
April stared down into the amber-colored tea, feeling worse with every word he spoke. She found herself wondering if Splinter had figured out what had happened between her and Don during their imprisonment — and if so, whether he realized that some of Don's pain had come from her.
"I — tried to talk to Don," April said haltingly. "He's blaming himself for our capture, and he's — he's having nightmares. And…" She paused, not sure how to phrase it.
"And?" Splinter prompted, his eyes keen.
"I think what happened to him — what Racer did to him — to us — has confused him. He — kissed me."
Splinter's brows raised. "He kissed you?" he said slowly.
And I kissed him back. And we almost made love… The words hovered on the tip of April's tongue, but she couldn't think of a way to say it that wouldn't lead to questions about what had happened between them in the cell. And she wasn't sure if she should tell Splinter about that — she knew that he ought to know, but she didn't want to say anything without Don's permission. She stared down at her clenched fist on her knees, torn between telling Splinter everything that had happened and keeping it between herself and Don for the moment..
"You believe that his… assault has led to this confusion?" Splinter said slowly.
"Not — exactly," April said hesitantly, her heart creeping up into her throat. "There was — that is — when we were in the cell together — we had to — they made us —"
"He ain't confused," a gruff voice said from outside, so suddenly that April nearly dropped her teacup.
The shoji door slid open, and April found herself staring up at Raph. He leaned against the frame of the door, apparently unashamed at having openly eavesdropped on his father and friend. Instead, he was looking down at her with a fierce expression, almost as if he wanted to fight her over something.
"What?" April said.
The red-masked Turtle shifted towards her, his eyes intently focused on her face. "He ain't confused," Raph repeated. "Not about that, anyway. He's been in love with you for years."