Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

The Containment Clause	By : hummerhouse Category: +S through Z > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 2278 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. No money being made.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
The Containment Clause

part 3
            Raph watched with trepidation as Don toured Bishop’s laboratories.
            The warning signs were all there; Don’s eyes were as wide as saucers, his expressive mouth turned up into a face splitting grin, and the biggest giveaway of all was his tail.
            Don’s tail had peeked from beneath his carapace and was wiggling a mile a minute.
            “Shell,” Raph hissed under his breath. He knew what that meant.
            While Don walked beside Bishop and received the royal treatment, Raph trailed along behind, his sharp eyes taking notice of things other than blood gas analyzers and flow cytometers.
            Earlier, when they had reached the parking garage, the driver had pulled the truck into a parking stall and killed the engine. After several seconds, a red light flashed on the dashboard, and the driver tapped his horn.
            With a lurch, the truck started moving down. Don gripped the sides of his seat, startled by the movement, and Raph growled his displeasure.
            “The facilities are underground,” Bishop had explained to them.
            That’s where they currently found themselves. The truck had dropped two levels before finally coming to a stop on the third.
            As soon as they left the truck, Raph began mapping every room and hallway, noting where each exit was located; where every elevator or staircase was situated. Raph let Don and Bishop stay in front of him, leaving enough space so that if a trap was sprung, it wouldn’t get them both. He also remained close enough so that he couldn’t be separated from Don.
            Raph realized pretty quickly that he was the one who was going to have to stay on his toes and be vigilant, because Donatello certainly wasn’t. His brother was completely mesmerized by mechanized marvels, technological toys, and medical mysteries.
            “I took the liberty of preparing a bedroom for you,” Bishop was saying, leading Don through another door.
            Raph’s head snapped around and he started paying attention to the conversation between those two again. He approached the doorway but stopped before entering the room, warning nerves popping across his body.
            It was indeed a bedroom; a decent looking full-sized bed pushed against one wall and a desk atop which sat a computer against another. A door at the far end led into what appeared to be a bathroom.
            “I have a similar room down the hall that you can use, Raphael. Or would you prefer to share this room?” Bishop asked, turning for the first time in a couple of hours to regard Raph.
            “We’ll share,” Raph growled at him. “I hope ta hell we ain’t gonna be here long enough ta need it.”
            “As do I,” Bishop responded mildly. “Shall I have another bed placed in here, or is one bed sufficient?”
            There was an innuendo in that question, and Raph was sharp enough to hear it. Don was already pulling things from his bag and placing them on the desk, so he wasn’t really paying attention.
            “Put another bed in here,” Raph said coldly, his gold eyes flashing.
            Bishop’s expression didn’t change. “As you wish.” Turning back towards Don, the man said, “All test results will be sent to you and can be accessed on this computer,” he indicated the one on the desk and continued, “and the one in the main lab. All of my scientists and lab technicians are at your disposal. They have been instructed to do anything you say; to give you anything you ask for.”
            Don had been staring at the computer screen, but he turned around and gave Bishop a look of surprise when he heard that.
            “Wait, are you saying I’m . . . that I’m the lead on this?” Don asked, his voice lifting a little.
            “Yes.” Bishop reached up and adjusted his dark glasses. “This is your operation, Donatello. You are in charge. You’ll report to me and everyone else will report to you. They will tell me nothing that they have not also told you. I’ve already made that abundantly clear to everyone.”
            “That musta gone over like a lead balloon,” Raph muttered.
            “What about Stockman? Is he working on this as well? We may be able to initiate a tentative truce with you over this thing, but Stockman hates us,” Don said.
            Raph took two steps into the room, his entire body rigid. “Stockman doesn’t come within fifty feet of my brother, Bishop. That’s where I draw the line. That nut case will sabotage anything he can ta get back at Don and me.”
            “I am aware of the history between you,” Bishop said. “His role is limited to an advisory one. He has been restricted to a lab on the second level and I have assigned several guards to keep their eyes on him. He’s not happy about the situation of course; he seems to think he should be the lead.”
            “That’s just gonna add more fuel ta his fire,” Raph said. “He’s gonna resent the hell out of that.”
            “He can resent it all he likes,” Bishop said sharply. “He works for me and he knows that I find his performance to be less than stellar. He may have a brilliant mind, but he lacks discipline and I have no time right now for someone who makes assumptions and acts on them without thorough testing.”
            “Then I won’t have direct contact with Stockman?” Don asked, needing to be completely clear on the subject.
            “None,” Bishop answered. “I’ll leave you two now to get settled. If you get hungry, just type in your request and send it to the kitchen.”
            Pausing in the doorway, Bishop half turned and said, “Donatello, I haven’t thanked you yet.” Pulling his glasses off, he looked directly into Don’s eyes and said, “Thank you.”
            Silence fell in the room after he left. Don opened his laptop and began typing a message to Leo, and Raph moved over to inspect the door, checking to see that once closed and locked, he would be able to open it again. Satisfied that the room wasn’t a cage of some sort, he closed the door and turned to inspect his brother’s shell.
            “This just keeps getting better and better,” he rumbled, the inflection in his voice indicating his distaste for the situation.
            “He’s been nothing but gracious so far, Raph,” Don said, his eyes on the computer screen.
            Raph’s eyes narrowed and he took quick steps to cross the room so he could stand next to Don, drawing his brother’s attention.
            “He’s being civil ‘cause he needs you,” Raph said bluntly. “I don’t know what’s goin’ on in his head right now and neither do you, so ya’ don’t need ta start gettin’ all chummy with the man.”
            “I’m not,” Don insisted, and when he saw Raph’s eyes flash, he repeated, “I’m not, Raph. I’m trying to establish a working relationship with him and that’s all. Once this is finished and we’ve found an antidote, you and I still have to get out of here. That subject hasn’t even been broached.”
            “Peachy,” Raph said; his mouth twisted up in disgust. “Tell me again why I let ya’ talk me into this?”
            “It’s because I’m your favorite brother,” Don said with an impish grin.
            “Not after this,” Raph retorted, although his face softened a bit. “Speaking of brothers, has Fearless responded to your news yet?”
            The grin faded from Don’s face. Stepping back from the laptop, he waved at the screen and Raph looked down to read the message Leo had sent.
            With a laugh, Raph glanced up at a pensive Donatello and said, “Shit, I thought I was the only one who could get him that mad.”
            “It seems I’ve managed to get him that mad at the both of us,” Don told him. “Sorry.”
            Raph waved it away. “Fuck that, ya’ know I don’t care how pissed off he gets, I’m used ta’ it. What are ya’ gonna do? He’s ordering ya’ ta come home and ya’ ain’t ever disobeyed one of his orders.”
            From the look on Don’s face, he could tell his brother was having a major internal struggle. He was a little surprised that Don hadn’t already figured out what he was going to do; he had to have known what Leo would say upon finding a message saying that two of his brothers had decided to play house with Bishop for a while.
            As if reading Raph’s mind, Don said, “I had intended to pretend that I hadn’t received any of his messages.”
            Raph grinned and reached over to close the laptop. “How ‘bout from now on, you send the messages to tell them we’re still kicking, and I’ll read any of the incoming ones?”
            Don’s sigh of relief was audible. “Thanks bro’.”
            “No sweat. So, do ya’ think Bishop will poison our food? ‘Cause I’m gettin’ a little hungry.”
            Don laughed and moved to the internal computer. Pulling up a menu, he said, “Let’s take a chance. What the shell, we’ve already taken plenty of them tonight, what’s one more?”
**********
            Losing track of time when buried in a difficult problem proved to be a little too easy to do. Don rubbed at his eyes and glanced up at the clock. He’d sent his technicians off to grab some shut-eye; they’d been working non-stop with Don and were starting to look groggy.
            Don hadn’t slept since arriving and Raph had refused to do so either; worried that if he left his brother something untoward would happen. Don finally argued with him that if he didn’t sleep he wouldn’t be much good in a fight and that if something were going to happen it would do so whether Raph was hanging around or not.
            Raph finally acquiesced and retired to their bedroom. Don knew deep down that he should be in a bed himself, but he hated to stop once he’d begun to follow a certain train of thought. The problem now was that he was getting a massive headache and he knew if he didn’t do something about it soon; it would turn into a killer migraine.
            John Bishop stood in the doorway to the lab and watched Donatello work. The Turtle was unaware of his presence, his mind completely engrossed in his efforts.
            Bishop had been in and out of the lab ever since Don began working on the altered mutagen. He was overwhelmingly impressed by the young ninja’s mind; Donatello had quickly found a way to isolate the single adaptive molecule from the altered DNA strand, something Bishop’s own scientists were unable to do in three days’ worth of testing.
            Donatello didn’t just follow normal lab protocol; his mind seemed to make intuitive leaps that astonished both Bishop and all the other scientists as well. Bishop had watched as some of his strongest nay-sayers to the idea of enlisting Don’s assistance began to give Don grudging respect.
            Bishop’s eyes swept over the Turtle’s form as Don moved. He was equally as impressed with the raw power beneath the olive green skin; with how fluidly the purple banded ninja’s motions were, never wasting energy needlessly.
            Drawing a breath, Bishop tried to come to grips with a strange feeling that was beginning to possess him. He was a completely asexual being; he had been since his encounter with aliens over a hundred and fifty years ago.
            However, while his newest cloned form was seemingly free of the degenerative tendencies of the previous ones, it was also more capable of responding to outside stimuli. It appeared, much to Bishop’s surprise, that his mental appreciation of Donatello’s numerous positive attributes was having a stimulating effect on him physically.
            Bishop felt a stirring between his legs and nearly cried out in surprise.
            Trying hard to ignore the unfamiliar reaction, Bishop noticed that Don had begun to rub at his temples. Frowning, the man strode into the lab, making enough noise with his steps so that the Turtle would know that he was approaching.
            When Don turned to look at him, Bishop saw the tension in his shoulders and the first hint of pain washing across Don’s brow.
            “You should be resting,” Bishop said, pursing his lips in disapproval.
            “I know,” Don told him. “I’m running a growth program and I wanted to get the results before I attempted to sleep.”
            “Do you always drive yourself this hard when you’re trying to find answers, or are you just like that this time because you want to get away from me?” Bishop asked, somewhat facetiously.
            Don glanced at him with a mildly perplexed look at the teasing tone in Bishop’s voice.
            “I guess I always tend to obsess over problems,” Don admitted. “I don’t want to be rude and say I also want to go home, but . . .”
            “You like to tell the truth,” Bishop finished for him and smiled.
            Don found himself returning the smile. Bishop had removed his dark glasses, and his black eyes were like deep pools of obsidian.
            “But now you’ve worked yourself into a fairly bad headache,” Bishop added.
            Don shrugged. “I’ve had them before. It’ll fade when I get a chance to sleep.”
            “Do you want a pain reliever? I have everything from baby aspirin on up,” Bishop offered.
            “No,” Don said a little too quickly. “I’m . . . I’m good, really.”
            Bishop’s smile grew larger. “Afraid to take any of my drugs, Donatello?”
            Don didn’t quite know how to react to the continuously teasing tone of Bishop’s voice. His grin was a little embarrassed as he admitted, “Maybe.”
            Bishop’s eyes travelled over Don’s body slowly, his brows furrowed in concentration. Don began to grow uncomfortably warm under the man’s scrutiny. It wasn’t as though Don hadn’t been looked over or stared at before, it was just that something in the way Bishop was surveying him was different.
            “Your muscles are knotted up with tension,” Bishop finally pronounced. “It’s in your neck and shoulders mostly. That’s what is giving you the headache. Turn around; I can do something about that without having to resort to drugs.”
            “I don’t know . . .” Don began, and stopped as Bishop’s eyebrows lifted.
            “If I was going to club you from behind, Donatello, I would have already done so,” Bishop said, again with the lightly teasing tone of voice.
            Feeling very foolish, Don turned his back to Bishop and braced himself. The first warm touch of Bishop’s hands on his shoulders almost made him jump.
            “You seriously need to relax,” Bishop told him, his voice becoming darkly virile.
            Don drew in a quick breath as Bishop began to knead the flesh across his shoulder muscles and down along his biceps. When Bishop’s hand squeezed the knot that had formed in Don’s neck, the Turtle gasped and bent forward to grasp the edge of a table.
            “I take it that feels good,” Bishop said, sounding smug.
            “Oh, sh. . . shell,” Don almost whispered, feeling his tightly clenched muscles begin to melt.
            Bishop had touched the Turtles before; after all, he had held them all captive once, strapped to tables and ready for dissection. He had also been in numerous fights with them where touching was unavoidable.
            He knew Don’s skin would be warm, not cold, but he hadn’t fully realized how soft the leathery looking skin would be. It felt incredibly sensual beneath Bishop’s strong fingers and the man once again felt a strong physical reaction within his own body.
            Something cold and heavy pressed against the back of Bishop’s neck.
            “Get your hands off of my brother,” Raph snarled; his voice dark and ugly.
            Bishop was both startled and dismayed. The ninja should not have been able to sneak up on him. Bishop realized he was becoming much too easily distracted by his strange new fascination with the olive skinned Turtle.
            Pulling his hands quickly away from Don’s shoulders, Bishop lifted them high so Raph could see his intent was peaceful.
            “It’s okay, Raph,” Don told his brother, “Bishop was trying to work a kink out of my neck.”
            “Donatello has a tension headache,” Bishop explained. “His shoulders and neck are tied in a knot and I was trying to help alleviate the pain because he is hesitant to use pain relievers.”
            “Uh, huh. Ya’ ever stop ta think ya’ might be the one making him tense?” Raph asked as he slowly removed the sai.
            Bishop sidestepped to put distance between himself and the two brothers.
            “That was by no means my intent. I’ll go now and leave the two of you alone,” Bishop said and quickly left the room.
            Don was eyeing Raph, his expression unfathomable.
            “What?” Raph demanded, irritated by the look.
            “Why are you so edgy?” Don asked.
            Raph cocked his head to the side and answered in a belligerent tone. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe ‘cause we’re in the middle of a fuckin’ underground fortress surrounded by Bishop and his men.”
            “We’ve been here for over thirty hours, and Bishop has been nothing but helpful and polite,” Don said.
            “Holy fuckin’ shit, Don!” Raph erupted, his hands clenched into fists. “How the fuck do ya’ think he’s gonna act? He needs ya’; you’re his only shot at figurin’ out this problem of his and pullin’ his ass out of the fire.”
            “Well, really Ra . . . “ Don began.
            “And on top of that I think he’s got the hots for ya’,” Raph interrupted to blurt out.
            Don ran a hand across his forehead. “You didn’t just seriously say that.”
            “Yeah. I did,” Raph said. “I meant it. He’s startin’ ta look at ya’ differently, and don’t tell me ya’ been so distracted by this problem your workin’ on that ya’ haven’t noticed how often he’s been invading your personal space. Or finding excuses like the one just now ta put his hands on ya’.”
            “Are you afraid he’s trying to take advantage of me? Is that what you’re alluding to?” Don asked in an amused fashion.
            “Go ahead and make fun,” Raph said. “Ain’t like you’re all that worldly when it comes ta that shit.”
            “I’m not exactly completely virginal either, Raph,” Don reminded him gently.
            Raph’s face flushed. “Damn, don’t even bring that up Donny. That happened when we were kids.”
            “It happened two years ago and we were not kids,” Don said. “We were experimenting like teenagers do and I went along with it. You did not force me. And for the record, Raph, I enjoyed it. The sex satisfied a need we both had at the time, so I have no regrets.”
            “Shit,” Raph looked down at the ground. “Why ya’ gotta make things sound so clinical? Ya’ know I fuckin’ hurt ya’.”
            “Pain under those circumstances was unavoidable, bro’. Stop beating yourself up over it. We did it once and I can guarantee that it was a perfectly normal thing to have tried. Our hormones were in overdrive at the time, if you’ll recall. But the point is, I’m not completely naïve,” Don said.
            Raph lifted his head to meet Don’s eyes. “So what are ya’ gonna do if Bishop is panting after your ass?”
            Don chuckled. “And you think my way of saying things is strange. Nice imagery there, Raph. Look, I don’t see it, but if that’s the case then I don’t need to do anything. It’s Bishop’s problem. My problem is sitting over there in a row of petri dishes.”
            “Marvelous,” Raph muttered; an undercurrent of emotion in his voice that Don hadn’t ever heard before.
            “Raph, is there something you’re trying to tell me?” Don asked.
            After a second of hesitation, Raph said, “Just that my nerves are gettin’ nerves. Go back ta work, Don, so we can get the shell out of here.”
            “Ri~ght,” Don responded, eyeing his brother.
            Raph moved back across the room to the table where he was sorting through lab reports for Don. His shoulders were down and his entire manner appeared dejected.
            When this was over and they were finally home, Don knew he and Raph were long overdue for a serious discussion.
TBC….
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Containment Clause