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Raphael suggests a date night in the Lair, entirely orchestrated by him— and Donatello calls his bluff right then. There was no way Raph could be serious, let alone be able to pull it off.Yet still, here Donnie was, on a Friday night, dressing himself to the nines for his man. For the first time he can recall, the Lair is vacant, silence unparalleled and— quite honestly— unconventional for the type of company their family kept.The people in their lives had been generally supportive of the nature of his and Raphael’s relationship, as unorthodox as it is. Leonardo claimed he knew, long before either of them had spilled the beans. Michelangelo didn’t get it at first, but ultimately didn’t mind. Master Splinter was alright with it, proudly asserting, “At least someone will be giving me grandchildren sometime soon!”— as wrong as he may be. April O’Neil and Casey Jones were informed a week after the Hamatos had all been made aware; though, it seemed like even less of an ordeal to those two.The nights following had been full of fanfare, merriment, and general good times. They’d partied, answered Mikey’s drunken queries, and even held an impromptu wedding for Donnie and Raph, complete with cake and pizza. Exhausting as it ultimately was, Donatello appreciated the extra care that went into making the two of them feel welcome in the family; not only as brothers, but as a new couple too. He came to enjoy the partying just as much as his brothers, and was twice as reluctant for it to end.But not tonight. It’s almost eerie, the hush that lingers in the Lair. The only occupants of their home now are Donatello, Raphael, and the mouthwatering aromas wafting in from their kitchen. The kitchen, which Donnie has been banned from entering— or, as Raph had said, “I’ll give you a holler when the grub’s ready!”It smelled promising, Donnie had to admit. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait. Luckily, Raphael is nothing if not a gentleman for his beau. Donatello perks when Raphael finally calls his name. “DONNNIIIEE—” There is a pause, some muffled noises; then, Raphael is hashing out a script which has butterflies dancing around Don’s middle. “Hamato Donatello,” he says, clear and loud from across the Lair. “Your dinner for the evening has been— (ah, no, read that wrong)— is ready to be served!”Donnie’s palm covers the flush that creeps up his cheeks, framing them with dusty red. He steps out of his room and toward the dining area. Before he can seat himself, Raphael is scrambling from the kitchen, donned in the apron that Donnie gifted him last holiday season. He stands by Donnie’s chair, pulling it out for him with an exaggerated bow. “Please, allow m… Oh. Oh, wow.”“Raph,” Don whispers, sliding into the seat hastily. “Don’t stare.”Raphael blinks once, then shakes his head, a goofy grin overtaking his features instead. “Shoot, sorry, uh… You.” He licks his lips, finding the words as he scoots his partner’s chair in. “You just. That suit, it…”Donatello turns in his chair to give Raphael a once-over and a quiet smile. “I had it tailor-made for the occasion.” He bites his lip, trying not to let his pride show too much. “I take it, uh… you like it?”“Like it?” Raphael wipes his palms over his apron, sweat visible. “Don, fuck, you look so—”“There’s, uh,” Donnie cuts him off. He’s too flustered to have Raphael fawning over him just yet. They still had dinner to finish, the main event. “There’s… one for you, too. Also tailor-made. Check your room.”Raph smirks knowingly, nodding. He’d save the questions about how exactly Donnie got his measurements for another time, perhaps. Tonight was about more than him, it was about them consummating their relationship in the best way Raph knew how— through good food.It is Donnie’s turn to be at a loss for words when Raphael returns.“Wow.” His eyes stay glued to his brother as he approaches. Raph allows him a good look, top to bottom, then leans over just as Donnie finds the right words to say. “You… God, you’re, uh…. Just—” Donnie shakes his head with an impish grin. “Just come here.”He pulls Raphael down by the tie, fingers curling just under the knot, and goes in for a full, heated kiss. Their tongues slide past each other, their suits feel tighter around the crotch. Raphael growls into Donnie’s mouth, panting. “Easy there, Don…” His tongue flickers over Donnie’s snout, and he shivers. “Let’s not let the food get cold ‘fore we get all hot, yeah?”It is tempting to forgo their established ritual, to indulge in each other rather than in this feast, but… Donnie concedes, breathing out, “Yeah.”Raphael faces the same conflict, but not strongly enough to ditch the food he’d labored over for hours, with love and plenty of herbs and spices. With that, he disappears into the kitchen, shortly returning with their first course.“For your starter,” Raphael lists off, “a creamy clam chowder and side salad. With your choice of vinaigrettes!” He holds them up, two little colored vials. “Cilantro lime or raspberry basil.” Scripted, again, and with his own little Raphael flair. Donatello couldn’t be any more endeared.It starts off tame. Raphael feeds Donatello soup by the mouthful, wiping the corners of his mouth when it “accidentally” spills from his lips. His thumb is warm pressed into Don’s tongue, even more so as he laps at the flavorful liquid.The main course follows not long after: grilled chicken breast and coconut rice, garnished with a spicy mango salsa.“Weird regional choices, but fair,” Donnie murmurs, watching Raph set his plate in front of him.Raph pays it no mind, pulling up a chair to sit right next to Donnie this time. “Cool it, brainiac, this ain’t Iron Chef.” Before Donatello can come up with a snappy retort, a spoonful of the meal is promptly shoved between his lips. He moans, involuntarily, a sound which electrifies Raph from head to tail. His hand creeps
over to glide over the front of his suit, belly just barely poking out. “Not so weird when it tastes that good, huh, Dee?”Don merely nods, itching for that delightful medley of flavors to hit his palate once more. The heat is beginning to work him up— and not just from the kitchen.Next, and much anticipated, is dessert. Raphael presents him with something familiar, homely. A mound of plain whipped cream with a single strawberry stuck out of it, topped off with a generous drizzle of honey.Raph’s voice is a rumble in his ear; he’s been sitting closer and closer with each course, with each bite. “I went a li’l less fancy with the dessert but…” His hand is warm where it rests on Donnie’s thigh. “I hope it don’t disappoint.”The very sight of the decadent cream sends shivers up Donnie’s spine. “Not… at all.”Raph smirks, knowing that look. He scoots in close, takes the small spoon, and does as he’s been doing all night— feeding Donatello. Except… it’s different.He’s full, stuffed past the point of comfort. His perfectly fitted suit bulges at the middle, belt already loose and hanging from his pant loop. If Raphael could see through those slacks, he knows there’d be a wet slit waiting for him, dripping and swollen with need.So Raphael feeds his brother. He uses the little fruit to scoop up a dollop of whipped cream. Moving with sultry intent, eyes locked on his target… Raph drools over the tip of it, his saliva seeping in and melting the sugary fluff. Donnie watches, unsure where to keep his gaze, on the strawberry or the devilish look in Raphael’s eye.Raph swipes the fruit along Donnie’s lips, prompting them to part. Donnie obeys, suckling the strawberry and its dressings between pursed lips. He moans unabashedly, eyelids fluttering more from the action alone than the taste. A sharp inhale, and Donnie’s tongue catches on Raphael’s pinched fingers. Raph makes no move to leave, so Donnie simply bobs his head, working his tongue like he would on any other long, phallic object his brother offered to him.Raphael groans. His other hand presses to the front of his suit, just under where his crotch lies. His breathing grows heavy, the tension from the night threatening to spill out. “Fuck… Fuuuck, Don…” It is Donnie’s turn to lock eyes with Raph, even as they dampen, stinging with the urge to blink. Raph melts into his seat, goads his brother on with the pads of his fingers massaging the back of his throat. Don gags hard and Raph finally pulls back; though, his smile is wide as ever.As Donnie catches his breath, Raphael mutters, “Jesus, Don. You’re somethin’ else.” Donnie can’t disagree, beaming with wordless pride.He unbuttons the front of his suit, and Raphael watches, notices how it shimmers with a purplish glint when the light hits it, just right. He wonders if his own does the same, in his colors. When Donnie is done, he leans back in his chair, gut hanging over his waistline comfortably. An alluring sight on its own, if not coupled with Don thereafter lolling his tongue out, revealing the still intact strawberry, sans cream. Raph almost pokes fun at him… until a devilish idea hits him.Raph stands hastily, waving his hands at a confused Donnie. “Hollon,” he says, “Don’t move!”— then rushes to the back of the kitchen. Not much later, he returns with a bottle of liquid gold. The strawberry is no longer present, but the pulp on the corners of his brother’s lips, and the way he rubs his satisfied stomach, tells all.
Donnie perks up at the sight of Raph and the honey, leaning forward with his tongue stuck out.Raph licks his lips and straddles Donnie’s thighs as he pops the cap of the bottle. “You’re killin’ me, Dee.”Instead of feeding him, as Donnie no doubt anticipates, Raphael drizzles the honey over his fingers, and presents those to his brother.This time, it is Donnie who moves slow and sensual, one hand bracing himself against the table as the other rakes down Raphie’s thigh. With Raph sprawled across his lap, fingers massaging the back of his throat, Donnie gets a perfect view of his gorgeous brother— it’s enough to break out a soft moan, overcome with lust.Raph feels the same, watching Donnie’s eyes grow heavy, drool trickling down the corners of his lips.Though, it’s the pressure that does it for him, and the intentional suction around his digits that has Raphael yearning for even more. Their bodies flush against each other even more so than usual, with Donnie’s gut filling out his dress shirt. It’s erotic, the sight of him so full and still, literally, hungry for more.Raphael pops his fingers away abruptly, wipes them on the tablecloth, then grabs the honey bottle. He does something even the worst of gluttons may find distasteful— waterfalls honey all along his tongue, then dives in to kiss Donnie, mashing their faces together. It’s a mess, and a wonder they don’t ruin their suits from the action alone. Tacky syrup dribbles down their chins in thick rivulets. Saliva and nectar marry between their lips; Don spreads his legs to avoid soiling his suit, and Raphael consciously does the same, leaning back as well.The air circulating amongst the two is made warm by the heavy friction of their bodies. Raph pushing down into Donnie, who pushes right back up, gasping with every touch. The fronts of their shirts are starting to come undone, and the contact of their plastrons does nothing to ebb their cresting desire. They’re glued onto each other, neither wanting to pry themselves off— until neither can take it any more.“Please,” Raphael rasps, gripping the grooves of Donatello’s jaw. “Please.”“Yeah,” Donnie groans right back, and that’s all the affirmative Raph needs before he’s hoisting Donatello up and carrying him to a bedroom, any bedroom— their mouths fixed to each other relentlessly.Donnie is laid briskly onto the bed, then caressed with such gentleness he has to break their kiss to whine. Raphael pins him to the mattress, still clothed, and with little intent to change that.They try to get their bearings in the same way they did at the dinner table, dry humping and grinding against each other like teens in rut.“A-Ah, Raph, it’s—” Donnie throws his head back. “It’s not enough.”For Raph, it is enough, he was just about ready to blow. But he doesn’t want to leave Donnie hanging, never will. Looking around, he grabs the first thing he sees.And that thing happens to be an old stuffed animal, one of Donnie’s, in fact. Raph takes a short inhale against the fabric… then a low, heady exhale out through his nose. The scent goes straight to his groin. Yeah. This’ll do.Donnie has no time to process what happens— Raph wedges his stuffed toy between them, perfectly stimulating the friction that their suits deny.“Fuck… R-Raph is that— ah!” Raph cuts him off with a curt thrust, angling so the weight of the soft toy catches right under Don’s thighs; right where the base of his tail meets the swell of his twitchy clit. Raphie knows his Donnie, knows just the right way to work his body— even fitted out in some fancy getup.“Shhhh, baby. Just lemme get’cha off, ‘kay?” Raph pins him and damn near cums when he feels that still-stuffed belly press to his own. “God— God, you look amazin’ like this, Dee.”Donnie cups the back of Raph’s head, pinches slightly. “Sh—ah— ut up, a-and fuck me.”And he does. All there is to worry about now is the pressure building up between their chests. The grind of their forms has a thick layer between them, forcing them to put more work into their hip movements. The plush gives a unique sensation, one that has Raph biting his lip, pupils blown wide. They’d have to try this again.Soon enough, Raph feels the heat coiling in his abdomen, tail getting tighter and wetter. He can smell both himself and Donnie through their suits, and god it’s good.“Don,” he huffs out, squeezing his thighs around the toy. “I’m— I’m so—”“M… me t—!” A jerk of his hips. Raph knows that look. Donnie’s eyes roll back, his thighs locking around Raph, drawing him in and refusing to let up. Raph keens, his entrance tightens around nothing— they both shudder, bodies rocking for several seconds… then go completely still.Tiny wet spots bloom in the crotch of their suits. The poor stuffie is not shielded from the influx of fluid.Raph rolls off Donnie to stand as they catch their breath, tossing the toy aside. Donnie lays a hand over his chest, staring at the ceiling. “Wow… That was incredible…”“Oh?” Raph’s laugh is hearty and rough. “You thought I was done wit’cha?” Don is hit with fear and arousal all at once. Raph kicks his slacks off, belt falling to the ground. “Get that suit off and scissor me like a man, Dee.”As per usual, the arousal wins. “More than happy to, Raphael.”They embrace for the remainder of the night, reveling in the warmth of each other and the meal they’ve shared, fully intending to do this all again. Some other time.