Silver Acropolis 08

Silver Acropolis

Chapter 8

Not once but twice; twice he had bedded his brother.  He had allowed their flesh to mingle, their minds to twine in a forbidden dance that should never had been.  Because he had slept he had burnt their food, forcing him to start to cook all over again.  And as the meat sizzled he couldn't help but run his eyes over his sibling that had been on top of him only hours ago.  That beautiful skin shining with sweat as their sexes were pressed together trying to reach a new high like two desperate addicts.

He swallowed hard and turned his face away.  He couldn't let it happen again, not again.  If he had a third taste then he would not be able to stop himself from having a fourth.  He would want to press shell against mattress and sheets, slip his body between tight thighs and explore the body of his brother in a way he should never even think about.  But even if he didn't want to participate in the taboo of life he wanted his brother to make it to the next day, and the day after that, until they were all old and frail with age.  That meant getting help.

Unfortunately the radio was a bust.  The water damage it had received had fried so many circuits that even if he had to splice the wires to get it to work there was no hope for the central board to gain any sort of life.  They were stuck, unless he packed Michelangelo onto his back and began to walk.

He had already fed his little brother what little venison he had cooking, his sibling enjoying being awake for a few minutes only to nod off now that he had something warm in his stomach.  But not after pressing his lips to his brother who didn't have the heart to turn away.  He held Mikey as their tongues mingled, that flavor of the deer mixed with the taste of his brother making him want to continue and drink.  He had pressed his brother down onto the floor, their bodies pressing together until a jolt of pain stabbed into him from his side forcing him to pull back and allow his brother to slip back into slumber while using his lap as a pillow.

He was at a loss as to what to do.  His own emotions mucking everything up to the point it was hard to think past primal needs.  He waited, thinking while stroking his hand over his lover's head.  Honestly, he didn't think he had the right to say when things should begin or end, in fact he didn't even know if there was anything there besides Michelangelo's need to be reminded that he was safe and alive.  With a deep breath he decided what to do.  He would take Mikey home, and when he got better he would approach him.  If it was all just for him to be reassured then he would drop it.  There would be no need to hold a relationship, but... but if he really meant it...  If he really wanted Raphael, then... then maybe they could figure something out- together.

Satisfied with that plan of action, Raphael had gone outside and carved off more meat from the kill he had committed earlier that day.  He would have to cook a decent amount if he was going to make this trip with as few stops as possible, that is- if they ever wanted to get home..  Logically, he would have to eat at least a few ounces every hour in order to have enough energy to not fall asleep in the snow drifts.  That was only him though, he had to make sure that Mikey ate as well.  That meant more of course; by his calculations he would have to carry at least five pounds of meat.  He figured eleven pounds would be better since he did not like the idea of suddenly coming up short for whatever reason.  He knew he didn’t have to worry about the rest of the deer going to waste, the forest would quickly reclaim the carcass with in the next few days.  Already there had been a leg chewed off by wild life.

He wanted them to have one more meal before he would set them out on their journey.  A few more hours of sleep would not deal any damage either.

Rubbing at his face he tried not to nod off to the winter hours.  Soon as he was done cooking, he would sleep, then soon as he woke they would eat and be off.

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When Michelangelo woke up he snuggled up against a strong chest from his memories.  He had always found comfort with the barrel chested brother with a red bandana.  Raphael was strong, and when he wanted to be he could be gentle as well.  When nightmares came he usually went to his hot tempered brother in blind faith that he would chase away all the monsters that were after him.  After all, no one could hurt Raph.  He was practically invincible.  At least that was what a small child of the age of five believed.  Yet something always lingered; the thought that nothing could happen to the brother that had a cocky smile and an annoying laugh.  It was that thought that lead him to always feeling safe with that particular brother.

Blue eyes slowly fluttered open as he pressed a cheek against green skin of a shoulder.  He placed a kiss to shoulder and neck, giving a lick as the one next to him began to stir.  This was odd, Raphael's skin was cold.  A frown started to form on his lips, his brows knitting together in confusion as he clung onto his brother as if he was a teddy bear.  

Before he could think over it more thoroughly, a hand was placed to the back of his shoulder nudging him to let go so that the older turtle could sit up.  Taking a moment, he slowly released his sibling.  It wasn’t often he got to have physical contact with them other than training inside the dojo or on the battle field.  He liked to have the small, positive, physical brushes of being pushed on the shoulder or the very rare hug.  Though, he would never admit it.

“You ready to eat something?”

Michelangelo sat up, looking over to his brother who rubbed sleep out of his eyes.  He still didn’t know if this was a dream or if the Nightwatcher was a dream.  His mind was still fogged with the need to lay down and repair itself in the state of slumber.  Almost everything seemed like a dream to him, the cold touch of Raphael’s skin as his brother held onto him while he was presented with a chunk of meat, the way the meat tasted- different from what he was used to, and how he could barely keep himself from slouching into his brother’s arms.  But if he had to choose which would be the dream and which would be real, then he wanted this to be real, his time with Raphael.  The passion that he shared with him, he didn't want that to be fake.  He wanted to feel his brother pressed against him, lips caressing and hands ignited so many sensations that drove his mind to a blissful euphoria.

“Okay Mikey.”

He blinked swallowing the last of his meal, a hand coming up to wipe away the slickness left from the juices of the meat from his lips and chin.  Raphael’s thumb and palm cleaning his face as best as he could.  Michelangelo lapped at the palm that helped him, tongue tracing lines, caressing curves.  It was disturbing, even Raphael's palm was chilled.  He didn't like that.

The older of the two cleared his throat, “You ready to go home?”

That question didn’t make sense to him.  If Raphael was here, then wasn’t he home?  He didn’t know, he was too tired but he wanted to feel.  He wanted to make sure this was real and not the dream.

He was suddenly pulled to his feet, a wave of dizziness from the abrupt action taking away his ability to stand up straight on his own.  His hands gripped his sibling as he was held onto to keep his balance.  Taking in several breaths he watched the floor swirl around before closing his eyes concentrating on banishing the feeling to vomit what he had just eaten.

“I’m gonna have to have ya put somethin’ on okay?”

Nodding, he tried to help his brother dress him in something that was tight and warm.  It was heavy as well.  Soon as the front was zipped and buckled he couldn’t stand on his own any more, the weight on his back causing him to fall to the ground, barely caught by his brother before his head could crack against the wooden floor.  His arms were pulled so that he was sitting up straight.

“Just stay there okay?  I need to grab somethin’.”

Michelangelo shook his head trying to clear it of the need to fall back onto his shell and watch the world spin above him.  He could hear rustling of paper, looking over, he observed Raphael folding meat in some old news papers and what looked like thin twine that was so frayed that it could brake at any given moment.  The newly made package was then fixed to Raphael’s belt, pulling it down to reveal a patch of red cloth that was pressed against his side.

Looking up to his brother’s face he frowned.  Why had he not noticed that his brother did not have his mask on?  God, he needed to clear his head.  He needed to be able to stay awake longer than the short moments he had been able to muster out.  He needed to move, wake himself up.

Trying to get up, he proceeded to fall once more, this time not caught.  His head throbbed from smacking onto the floor.  A soothing palm suddenly over the place that hurt.

“I told ya to stay put.”

“Sorry,” he grunted when he was hefted up.

“Come on, bro, let’s get ya home,” Raphael smiled a little as he swung an arm over his shoulders.  He hesitated for a moment before sealing his lips over Michelangelo's letting the kiss flutter his heart beat before they would venture out into the world of white.

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Michelangelo had fallen asleep half way out of the forest.  He had tried to walk on his own only to have to lean on Raphael, soon enough he couldn’t walk at all.  When that happened, Raphael placed the Nightwatcher helmet onto his brother’s head, before saddling the ninja onto his back.

It seemed to take forever to reach the main road that fed a line across the country side from the main city.  The old tattered blanket and the large chunk of upholstery that he covered his brother’s shoulders with rubbed against his shoulders and sides, chafing the skin just enough to be annoying as he walked in the world that held a stifling silence that only winter could bring.  Large flakes flecking across his beak as he moved forward.  All he had to do now, was concentrate on making sure he could get to the nearest phone.  Unfortunately the nearest house that he could possibly break into was across a lake and walking around it would be as effective as reaching the outskirts of New York City.  And unless someone decided to stop and not freak out that there are two large turtles walking in the snow then he had a very long walk ahead of him.

Luckily it wasn’t below freezing… yet.

To Be Continued…