FicWad

Title: Stairway to Heaven
Author: Crabapple Red
Beta: Spacefille
Pairing: Casey/Raph/Don
Warnings: It's got turtle incest and interspecies sex. Nc-17.
Disclaimer: Don't own. No money being made.

*

It's a dumb idea. From too much beer and not enough brains and the kind of "maybe"s you get at three am: stuff you know you'll never get and maybe shouldn't even want, but that in the early morning seem just out of your reach; attainable and rightfully yours if you just stretch out that much farther for them.

And Casey came up with it. That puts it on a whole level of dumb beyond the average. That Raphael is bothering to consider it longer than the two seconds it took for the words to register is a testament to how much beer he's downed. To how early it really is.

To how lonely his future seems.

'Cuz Casey's gotten that smile outta April. The "come get me" signal. April's finally noticed how the big lug is actually kinda sweet. Kinda decent. Kinda a good guy. And a smart lady like her . . . she won't let someone like Casey get away.

Raph figures a month, maybe two until things get serious, and that'll be the end of the rough hours of twilight where he and Casey share booze and trash talk and a little bit more. Until the little piece of comfort in Raph's blood-coloured world, the touch of something almost normal Casey gives him, vanishes.

You don't fuck your mutant freak of a best friend at three in the morning on the floor of a cold garage when you've got a girl like April waiting for you in bed.

It isn't something Raph and Casey've talked about. Just a cold truth that hangs over them both like winter fog. It makes Raph snarl and growl as they fuck. Makes him force Casey to beg for it before Raph lets him come.

After, Raph pulls away a bit to sulk, propped against the cold cement wall of the garage, a bottle of warm beer in his right hand and Casey sprawled half naked at his left. The smell of sex and motor oil hangs in the air, and there's a ragged circle of empty bottles around them. Raph kicks at one idly. Sends it rolling off across the cement to disappear under one of Don's work benches.

Casey sorta fidgets. Runs his fingers through his sweaty hair and finally blurts out what's been on his mind all night.

"I'm, uh. I'm gonna ask April to a concert. Some band she likes. I got tickets." He pauses to grab his own bottle and take a swig. "It's in two weeks. Gonna try ta make it a real official date an' everything."

And Raph closes his eyes and grits his teeth because he knows the only reason Casey is telling him is as a warning. Two weeks. Two weeks, and it'll be over. So much faster than Raph thought. And the bitter sting of it has his face twisting up into a snarl he can't hold back.

"Guess I'll have to find somethin' else to do at three am." 'Cuz he sure as hell isn't gonna find someone else. "Since you're gonna be busy."

Casey winces. Picks at the label on his beer bottle. "Aw, c'mon, Raph. Don't be like that. It ain't like we'll never see each other again."

But not for this.

Must of shown on his face, because Casey babbles on, "And I know it ain't gonna be the same but it's April, Raph. Don't- don't ask me the give her up."

Raph'd grunts and shakes his head. Because it's April.

"And you knew-"

-that it couldn't last.

"A-anyways. You've still got your bros, right?"

That gets him out of his sulk. "My bros? My bros? Casey, I ain't doin' nothin' like this," he waves a hand at Casey, the beer, the whole fucking tableau of sex and booze around him, "with my bros."

Moment of silence then, and Casey gets a weird sort of look on his face.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

"Casey, what?"

"S'nothin! Really. Just . . . kinda surprised, 's all. I mean, me an' my cousin fooled around some when we was kids. You know. Figurin' stuff out. Guess I just figured, since you guys do everythin' together . . . I guess not, huh?"

Raph laughs, bitter, angry. Jealous. "Leo, Casey. Leo. You think I'd go to Fearless Leader for this? Think I'd give him that kinda opening? An' Mikey'd laugh me right outta his room, take it as a big joke-"

"But there's Donnie, right?"

"Donnie . . ." That shuts Raph up a minute. How would Donnie react? So hard to tell. So fuckin' quiet . . . Donnie's always so fuckin' quiet. Raph's fingers tighten on the beer bottle's neck. Thoughtful, patient, quiet Donatello.

Casey glances at him. Careful and nervous. "You could ask."

Raph grunts.

And then Casey says it. The Idea. "I could help you."

" . . . What?"

"Y'know. Give you a hand. You could invite Donnie ta one of these nights and we could kinda sorta feel him out together. See if he wants to. If he'll let you . . . I mean. I mean he's gotta be curious, right? I could kinda make a pass at him and you could join in and . . . and . . . y'know."

Yeah. Raph knows exactly what Casey means. Can almost see it happening. Him, and Casey, and Don, in this garage filled with shadows and the rust-rotten corpses of machines Don's slowly gutting. The sky outside tainted the ugly orange of just before morning in the city, bleeding in through the tiny windows near the roof high overhead. The cement floor cold beneath them.

"I- I dunno, Casey," Raph says, fingering his bottle again. "Donnie . . ."

"An' you'd be right there ta hold his hand an' we'll have lots of beer an' get him really drunk . . . it'll be easy! And then, like, you'll have each other, right? Until . . . until you, uh. Find someone else. Or somethin'."

Yeah. Or something. Died of old age, maybe, since they sure as shell aren't gonna find some other human crazy enough to bone them.

"Just . . . just think about it, 'k?" Casey says.

~

Four days later, Raph is thinking about it. Casey's damn fucking stupid idea. Because Donnie's smiling at Raph over breakfast, and there's something sweet about it.

Raph spends the rest of the week thinking about it, actually. About Don's smile and Don's skin and Don's legs and hands and soft voice and what he'd look like with a mouth full of cock, oh shell Raph is gonna break Casey's face for this. It- he- how is he supposed to not want it, now? No way he can look at Don and not wanna try. No way. Because . . . because with Donnie, there just might be a chance . . .

Tuesday of the second week, Raph gives up. Slinks into Don's room, where his bro is hunched over his desk reading some brick of a book. Glances around at the clutter that's some how weirdly organized, and clears his throat. "Uh, yo, Donnie. I, uh. I was thinkin' . . ." he kinda trails off then, and glances at Don.

"Mmmm?" Don's still glued to the book, but his head is tilted a bit towards Raph, tail ends of his bandana trailing down over his shoulder in a long line of violet to puddle on the desk. He's listening, but only sorta. Somehow it makes it easier to get the rest out.

"You . . . you wanna come help Casey an' me with the bikes tomorrow night?"

"Sure, I- wait. With the bikes?" Don goes still.

"Yeah. You know. Me 'n Casey like to tune 'em together. Thought you might like ta help. Give us some a that genius input. You're up for that, right?"

Donnie glances back over his shell at Raph, dark eyes wide. ". . . I wouldn't have though you guys'd need my, uh, assistance with that sort of thing."

Raph snorts. "You built the Shellcycle from the ground up, Donnie. If anyone knows how ta tweak the thing it's you."

"Well, yeah, but . . ." He gives Raph a long look. "I guess I could. If you really want me there."

"Good. Great. Fantastic." And, ok. Yeah. Raph hasn't got a fucking clue what to say next so he just kinda stares helplessly at Don while his bro sits there and fiddles with the pages of his book. "I, uh. I'll go tell Casey," Raph manages at last.

He feels the weight of Don's gaze on him as he leaves.

~

So now they're here, in the garage. Raph, Casey, and Don. And the pre-dawn light dripping through those tiny windows is just as ugly a shade of orange as Raph thought it'd be, the floor just as cold. The shadows around them just as dark and clinging.

Raph is a lot more nervous than he'd imagined, though. His hands shake. It's a good thing there's beer. Something for him to hold on to. Something to calm him down. He downs the dregs of his second bottle and fiddles with the CD player. Casey and him don't usually bother with music but . . . but . . .

If this goes right, it'll be Donnie's first time, won't it? And first times should be special. Even if it's just fumbling in some abandoned garage with his brother and a whackbag human because there's no one else. So Raph slips in the CD he swiped from Don's room, some mix Mikey made of Don's favourites. Old, rough rock starts to play.

Don is nearby, sorting through one of his toolboxes before they start. Raph watches him a moment. Finds himself liking the way Don moves: nothing graceful but nothing wasted, either. Dead on precision, like a bird from one of them nature shows. A whatsit. Heron.

Should he be feeling this way? It's one thing to do this 'cuz the warm body who gives him his pity fuck has wised up and is gonna leave him, and Don's the only other chance he's got. It's another to actually . . . to actually want Don. Which is sorta what this is starting to feel like. Does this make him sick?

It's not something he wants to think about, so he does the time honoured guy thing and opens another bottle of beer. Goes to take a swig - shell, he's drinking these too fast - when Don catches his wrist and stops him.

Raph kinda gapes at him. Didn't notice Don even move. Don gives him a shy, sidelong look.

"While it's true alcohol reduces inhibitions and relaxes your nerves, it also tends to interfere with, ah, performance if you drink too much." Careful touch as he takes away Raph's beer and drinks it himself.

Performance? Raph's mind is blank for a moment, before he realizes exactly what Don is saying, and then his eyes go wide. "Oh, uh, yeah? No kiddin'?" he manages. "But what about-"

"This is my first bottle. Besides, I don't think I'll be the one in a position where I'll need to worry about that particular aspect of things. Will I, Raph?" And Donnie smiles at him. Just a little. And then walks off to where Casey is waiting with the bikes, Raph's beer still in hand.

Raph lets him go. 'Cuz he's too busy thinking about how Donnie knows. Don knows.

He watches in a daze as Don slips up next to Casey and looks up at the human with solemn, expectant brown eyes. Watches Casey stutter and fumble his wrench, try to act like nothing's up and put the moves on Don all subtle like.

'Course, it's Casey, and Casey's about as subtle as police sirens: he slings his arm around Don's shoulders in a way that's anything but casual. Especially since the doofus has to kinda hunch down to do it. Yanks Don close and leans in a bit too much, beer and nerves making him worse than usual and Raph growls low in this throat and squeezes his eyes shut.

It's a damn good thing Donnie figured out what's up and is going along with it, Raph decides. 'Cuz if they had to rely on Casey's smooth moves and charm they'd be dead in the water.

Especially with Casey spending more time sending Raph nervous little glances and 'is this ok?' looks than actually paying attention to Don.

But Don puts up with it. Even leans into Casey's fumbling touches and smiles a little at the lame double entendres. He's patient and willing, and soon enough Casey's touch gets a little more relaxed. A little more natural. Soon the slide of Casey's hand on Don's shell isn't forced, and Casey's nudging Don and grinning and bragging about his bike and Raph feels the twist of something that just might be jealousy.

Or maybe it's hope.

The CD starts to spill out something slow, careful. Little bit wistful. Kinda sad. Stairway to Heaven is echoing through the old garage, a song Raph's caught Donnie crooning along to when he thinks no one's around. Raph puts it on repeat without looking. Maybe Don'll hum along tonight. Raph'd like that.

And then he lets the music push him forward. Slow, careful steps to go with the notes. He glides up to the space beside Don, joining his bro and his friend by the bikes, and leans into Don's side. Just a little. It gets him another smile.

Things go smoother then, and almost too fast, despite the winding music that tugs at them. In between tuning the engine and passing beer bottles back and forth Raph starts really noticing, for the first time, what Don looks like. Little stuff like the sweep of Don's collarbone, the way Don's dark eyes narrow in focus. He finds he likes the way Don holds his tools, the bulk of Don's muscles, the soft drone of Don's humming. That he loves the way Don's mouth wraps around the beer bottle and how Don's throat moves when swallowing, and for a minute, he lets himself think about wrapping Don's mouth around his cock.

Fuck, he wants that. Wants to take hours to teach Don to suck cock.

It's such a strange new way of seeing the guy he's spent nearly every damned day of his life beside, and he wants to take his time, but Casey's pushing forward and when the song slips into the drums just before the guitar solo for the -fourth? fifth? Raph's lost track, the repeats blending into one another- time, Casey finally gets the guts to grab Don and kiss him. And shell if he isn't slipping Donnie some tongue as the electric guitar starts up and what's that about, huh? Donnie's first kiss being one of Casey's slobbering wet ones, with too much spit and no damned technique.

"Don't choke him or anything," Raph grumbles, and glares until Casey lets up. "You ok, Don?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Don raises a hand to touch his mouth. His eyes are so wide. Raph sees Don's tongue flickers out to taste what's left of Casey and remembers doing the exact same thing at his first time. Casey'd tasted of beer back then, and with today's set-up Raph bets things're pretty much the same.

Except that this is Don, of course, not Raph, and despite what he's saying he still looks pretty shaken. Raph brushes Don's hand away, and then touches Don's face. "Hey. Relax." He leans forward and nuzzles his brother's beak. Presses his own kiss to Don's mouth and makes sure that this one, at least, is slow and gentle.

It's completely different from kissing Casey. For one thing, Don's the right height. For another, Don isn't trying to eat Raph's face. In fact, Don is open and yielding, letting Raph set the pace, and it's really fucking easy to kiss him because of it. It shouldn't be, because it's Don and Don is his brother, but the strangeness is washed away by the taste of spit and, yeah, beer, in Don's mouth.

And then Casey grabs Don's ass. Totally out of left field, but Raph isn't really angry with Casey even though it breaks the kiss because it makes Don jerk forward and gasp and cling in surprise, and there is definitely something to be said for an armful of gasping Don.

"Man, your shells hide all the good stuff," Casey says, pulling away just long enough to yank his gloves off with his teeth. Then he dips his hands back between Don's legs, and from the way Don moans and tucks his head into the crook of Raph's neck Raph figures Casey's doing something interesting.

But as sweet as it is to have Don pressed against him and panting, Raph wants to see. He's spent a week wondering. Now he wants to know what Don looks like undone. So he grips Don's shoulders and pushes. Peels Don away from him and-

The sight of Don, panting and eyes glazed, is strangely beautiful. He tries to dip his head, shy, but Raph won't let him. Uses a hand to nudge Don's chin up and cup his face. Traces Don's cheek with a thumb. Shell. Is that – yeah, that's gotta be a blush. The way the skin on Don's cheeks darkens and warms. So weird to see it. They don't usually show signs of embarrassment this way. Is it the booze? Or is it 'cuz Don's turned on?

Does Raph look like this when Casey touches him?

Don's mask is suddenly an annoyance, pissing Raph off by hiding the flush that paints Don's face, and Raph pushes it up and away with barely a thought. Lets it fall to the ground without a look, too focused on Don's naked face.

Yes. This is exactly what he wants. Don's embarrassment burning to painful-looking levels as he's suddenly unmasked. Don's hands come up to Raph's wrists then, but his grip is weak. Like he can't find the strength to pull away and hide, and then he's gasping again and leaning into Raph's touch.

"There we go!" Casey chuckles smugly. "Yeah. You like that, right, Donnie-bear?"

Raph glances down. Sees Casey's hands working between Don's legs and . . . and Don's cock. Casey's finally got it coaxed out.

Raph's seen Don's cock before. After almost sixteen years of living in the same space, how could he not have? But it's never been like this: out and hard and wrapped with Casey's pale hands, jutting up from between Don's legs. And before he can think about it one of Raph's hands is already breaking from Don's grip and dipping down to touch . . .

Don's eyes go wide and then fall to half mast, gaze locking with Raph's, and he moans all pretty. Shell. The weight of his cock is hot and slick in Raph's hand, but Casey's there too, and Raph can't get a good enough feel with him in the way. But it's easy enough to fix that.

"Yo, Casey. Lube."

Don shudders at that. Closes his eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah, ok." And Casey's voice has dropped now. Rough with lust. He lets go of Don slowly, hands lingering as long as possible. "Shit. Where'd we leave it?"

Crud. "Uh . . . "

" . . . bottom drawer, under the clean rags," Don mutters, eyes still closed, head down.

"Bottom drawer, under the clean rags," Raph parrots before blinking in surprise at Don. "Hey, how'd you know-"

His question trails off as Don thrusts tentatively into his hand. Shell. Shell. His grip tightens on reflex, and Don . . . churrs in satisfaction.

Fuck. Guess I ain't the only one who makes that sound. Never sounded like that when I made it, though.

The sound makes Raph lick his lips and sends Casey shuffling off for the lube. He's moving funny. Probably, Raph figures, 'cuz his cock's pitched a tent in the front of his sweat pants. Raph grins. At least the bonehead appreciates what Don's offering.

He starts to work Don's cock then, and the noises he gets outta Donnie are almost enough to cover up the damned music. Enough to keep Raph from remembering to ask Casey to shut the player off while he's over there, anyways. He pumps Don's cock and runs a finger over the head, hand slicked by Don's precum. It makes Don's knees start to give, and he tries to lean into Raph.

Raph won't let him. Keeps him pushed away so he can see Don's face. He tugs down on Don's cock.

"On your knees, Donnie," he husks.

Don shivers again, and slowly goes down to his knees. Raph follows, his hand on Don's cock still moving, petting. He nudges a toolbox aside with his other hand. Clears away the spare motorcycle parts and empty beer bottles, Casey's fallen gloves and Don's mask. Swallows.

Tells Don, "On- on your shell."

Don's eyes are squeezed shut now, not just closed, and there's a little tremor to his muscles, but he goes back without a sound, settling onto his shell on the concrete, legs spread and hands clenching into fists at his side. Raph looms over him. Braces his free hand in the middle of Don's plastron and watches Don's face as he pumps Don's cock.

"Shove over, will ya? I need room ta work."

And Casey's back now, of course. He kneels down between Don's legs and crowds Raph over to Don's side. He's got the lube uncapped already, his fingers slicked, and then he's touching Don's ass and finding Don's entrance and pushing in. Just one finger, but it makes Don jerk under their hands and bite his own wrist.

Raph likes the way Don's white teeth sink into his own skin, but when Don's eyes open to slits they're kinda damp looking, and Don's shaking's getting worse. Fuck. Too fast. They're going too fast. Raph's gotta get Don calmed down before he loses it.

He makes himself let go of Don's cock –it's harder to do than he'd ever thought it'd be– and touches Don's face again. "Hey. Relax, Brainiac. It's just me an' bonehead Casey. Nothin' you gotta stress over. Just lay back and let us do the drivin'."

"Yeah, Donnie. Trust us. We'll treat you right." Casey slips in another finger and palms Don's cock with his free hand.

Don sucks in a breath and slowly, slowly relaxes. Pulls his wrist out of his mouth and lets his hand settle on his plastron. The crescent his teeth left is a delicate line, like lace.

"That's right," Raph traces the line of Don's throat. "Casey's a nimrod but his hands feel good, don't they?"

"Hey!"

"They . . . they certainly showcase the advantages of having a homeotherm for a- ngh! Haa~ ahhh~"

"Teach you ta call me a homeowhatsit," Casey mutters, fingers working inside Don's ass. "Gangin' up on me. An' usin' fancy words when we've got you on your back. What's up with that? I mean, geez, Donnie. Can't you talk normal for once? I know you're really smart 'n stuff, but we're trying ta fuck you here. You ain't supposed to use the head on your shoulders fer this."

"S-sorry~" Don turns his face away, trying to hide how his mouth twists and his eyes go sad. But Raph is watching, and Raph sees. The beer's got Donnie's edge blunted, stripped his walls away, and the slivers of hurt Don usually insists aren't there are easy for Raph to see. Bits of pain that no-one understands what Don tries to say. Don can't help it if he thinks in five dollar words, and actually, it's kinda flattering that he takes for granted that they're all smart enough to understand what he's saying. 'Course, Casey's too dumb to appreciate that.

"Shut it, Casey," Raph defends. "Don just means that . . . that, uh . . ." Fuck. What was Donnie saying? Something-therms? Therm like thermos, like- screw it. "That it's nice you've got warm hands."

Donnie's head snaps back around and the smile he gives Raph might be damp around the edges, but it's so bright it cuts. Like the city's lights at night, broken into a thousand thousand pieces by rain on a windshield. A halo of rainbow and shimmer. Raph is pretty sure Don knows he was just taking a wild guess, but it doesn't seem to matter if that smile means anything.

Casey grins and loosens the drawstrings of his sweats. "Yeah? Well if you think my warm hands 're great, bet my hot cock'll drive you crazy."

Oh for cryin' out loud-

But Casey's bad porn talk has finally broken the last of Don's nerves, and he just grins and relaxes back against the cool concrete floor. Raph strokes Don's plastron, loving the smooth solidity of the plates. Runs his fingers along Dons' arm. Bends down and kisses him again, to keep him distracted as Casey fumbles to get his dick lined up . . . and swallows Don's moan as Casey slides his cock into Don's ass.

"Aw, shit, yeah," Casey croons. He rocks his hips, thrusting slowly into Don, and it makes Don whimper and scrabble at the floor. And ain't that a sight? With his muscles flexing as he grips the concrete beneath him, his legs slowly opening wider for Casey. The way he tosses his head back at Casey's next thrust and his mouth opens so he can start panting, short little gasps for breath. "You gonna join in, Raphie, or you just gonna watch?"

He's pretty tempted to just sit right where he is and watch, actually, but this is his last chance at Casey's ass, and it's not something he's gonna waste. He snags the lube from where Casey left it. Their little tube of KY's battered and almost empty, but there's still enough for this. Casey being Casey, he's shucked his pants down just enough to fuck Don. Raph yanks them down to Casey's knees, and then palms the curve of that pale ass. Casey's skin is a lot warmer than Raph's, and smoother, too. Makes him seem almost fragile.

Raph's had lots of fun proving that to be a lie.

And it bruises pretty, in shades of blue and green. There's still marks from the last time, actually, and Raph lets his touch run over those before he slicks his finger with lube and slips it into Casey's ass.

His touch makes Casey yelp and jerk forward, thrusting into Don harder than before. "Geeze, Raphie. Warm that stuff, will ya?" Casey snaps over Don's moans.

Raph sinkers. "Why bother? You do such a good job all by yourself."

Prepping Casey is easy, familiar. But now there's the added bonus of hearing Don make fun noises as Casey squirms, so Raph takes his time. Matches his rhythm to the music for a moment (and they've hit the beginning again. How many times is it now?) and uses his free arm to wrap around Casey's middle, force him to slow. He has fun dragging Casey back a bit and then letting go, using his greater leverage and weight setting up a tug of war between them, with Casey using his grip on Don to pull himself forward and into him.

His little game makes Casey swear and whine and pant, makes Don whimper and churr. Casey tries to tug at Raph's arm, but Raph's still got his finger working in Casey's ass, and a jab in the right spot makes Casey forget all about breaking free. He tries to kick, but his sweats have bunched around his knees and have him bound. He settles for grabbing at Don's shell, for biting Dons' shoulder, for cussing Raph out. Don's leg's are spread so wide now. He rocks with the force of Casey's occasional thrusts. Tangles a hand in Casey's hair as the human bites him. Groans.

Watching them, hearing them: it's something incredible. Feeling the tight heat of Casey's body wrapped around his finger, the shift of his muscles as he struggles against Raph's hold around his waist . . . it makes Raph ache. His cock is hard and out and ready, and he pulls his finger from Casey to fumble for the lube again. Gets just enough. Strokes himself once, twice. And then he's pushing into Casey.

For a minute, all three of them go still. Their soft pants are a muted chorus to the music echoing through the garage. Raph on top of Casey on top of Don. Connected, a fucking little daisy chain. And it seems they just freeze like that. Perfect. Until Casey twists and moans and it makes Don and Raph shudder like one person and Raph's moving before he can even think, sliding in and out of Casey's heat. He gets in a good thrust, pushing in hard and grinding Casey down into Don, loving the sounds he gets out of them, loving the way Casey writhes between them and Don reaches up to touch him.

"Raph~" groans Casey.

Then another.

"Raph!"

Another.

"Raph!"

And it finally registers that Casey ain't exactly screaming his name out of passion.

"What?" he snarls. Shell, they've finally gotten to the good part and Casey-

"This ain't gonna work," Casey wheezes.

He forces the words out. They're like ground glass in his mouth. "Why. Not."

"It's- It's the shells. You're crushin' me, man. The angle . . . we keep this up, I ain't gonna have no balls left."

Oh for the love of- pansy ass, whiney, wussy bonehead. Of course he'd be too delicate for decent three way sex. Can't anything go right?

Well. No way is Raph letting this kill things. No way. Raph is gonna get his last taste of Casey if it kills him, and Don's first time is gonna be a thing to remember if it kills all three of them.

"Fine," he bites out. "Switch with me."

"Uh, yeah?"

"Yes," he hisses.

And then there's a mad scramble as Raph hauls himself off and out of Casey, as Casey peels himself off of Don and almost falls face first because his sweatpants are still down around his knees, and ok, yeah, Casey does kinda look a mess with his chest all red from bruising, but Raph isn't really paying attention because now he's taken Casey's place kneeling between Don's legs and he's sliding in. . .

He finds himself cock deep in Don's ass, staring into Don's dark eyes. He's braced a his hands to either side of Don's head and now he's just sort of staring down at him in shock as Casey fumbles behind him for the lube again.

Casey. Casey was supposed to be between them. Casey was supposed to be their buffer, their 'just in case'. How the fuck can they back out of this now? He's inside Don.

And shell if it ain't a sweet place to be.

He's moving. Little thrusts in and out as he stares down into Don's eyes. Don stares right back at him, apparently beyond making any kind of sound now, because though his mouth is open all he's doing is shaping the words. There's no sound, though. No sound, except Raph's panting again and Casey triumphant grunt.

Casey finally gets his ass in gear and preps Raph, a quick, hard stretching. Two fingers right off, then three, and then he's pulling them out and pushing in and clambering all over Raph's shell to cling there. Sometimes Raph thinks Casey's parents forgot to feed him his daily dose of evolution while growing up, cuz the guy is such a damned monkey sometimes. But whatever works, right? And the burning heat of Casey's body is a soothing weight on Raph's shell; the rocking of his body making Raph rock in turn.

His plastron grinds with Don's. He likes that. He also likes the way Don's body wraps around his cock, how Don's hand comes up to stroke his plastron, how Don bites his lip and glances away and blushes. Raph churrs, voice deep and rough as Casey moves inside him, hot thrusts of heat deep into his body. They'd got a rhythm going now, slow and steady, to go with that damned song that's still playing, and Raph feels himself slowly sliding towards the edge.

He wants to watch Don fall first. Gropes for Don's cock and finds it, still just as hot and slick and hard as before. Grabbing it makes Don gasp. Raph grins.

"C'mon, Donnie. Make some noise. You've gone all quiet on me." He pumps Don's cock a few times as Casey grabs at Raph's shell, scrabbles at Raph's shoulders. Fucks Raph as hard as he can manage. All three of them shake.

Raph's rough touches make Don pant. Gasp. Raph watches him struggle to speak, to make noise, through the haze of his own pleasure. This is perfect, this is Nirvana. To have Don under him and Casey behind him, pleasure clawing at him from both sides. Hot heat of Casey's body, the cool cement of the floor beneath Don. It all works together as Raph fights to hold on and see Don finished first.

"My name, Donnie. You can say that much, right?"

Don's mouth works. Raph uses his dick, merciless. Forces wave after wave of pleasure onto Don with his hand, into Don with his cock. His control frays as Casey pounds into him until he finally-

-snaps.

"Now, Don!" His voice cracks like a whip, his hand squeezes on Don's cock, and he thrusts himself into Don with the full force of his own weight . . . and Casey's.

He gets lucky, too, and hits just the right spot.

"Raph!" Don howls, and comes, convulsing, thrashing, hands scrabbling at the concrete, at Raph, at what little of Casey he can reach as the hot spill of his come flows out and on to Raph's hand.

Raph churrs his approval, and lets himself fall as well. He hits climax like a brick wall, the impact jolting him out of reality, and he pumps his come into Don's body almost mechanically as his mind goes blank and instinct takes over. Behind him, Casey peaks as well, and the sudden hot rush of the idiot's come inside Raph's body is too much. He falls forward onto Don, arms giving out at last.

Again, they lie still in a pile. Until their own twitching from the aftershocks of pleasure has them toppling sideways, till they're sprawled beside each other on the floor. Hot, sticky. Exhausted.

Eventually, Don finds the energy to curl up to Raph. Tucks his face into the crook of Raph's neck and tangles their legs. Casey rolls closer and he's soon a warm bulk against Raph's shell. And it's almost perfect, except Stairway to Heaven is still playing. Why the fuck is Stairway to Heaven still playing?

"You put it on repeat," Don mumbles, and Raph realizes he said that last bit out loud.

"Casey. Yo, Casey." He elbows the human. "Go turn the damned player off."

Casey swats him back. "You do it."

"I can't get up, Bonehead. I got Don on me."

Casey swears and grumbles, but stumbles to his feet. He's too stupid with the dregs of sex and beer to find the player's off switch so he yanks the plug. Makes his way back. Flops down. Gets his arms and legs all over Raph as he lays down beside him again and starts to snore almost as soon as his eyes close and Raph is half a mind to smack him, but, well . . .

This is the last time.

And the bonehead did help him get Don.

So Raph lets it go. Shuts his eyes. Together, the three of them sleep.

- end