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The Containment Clause	By : hummerhouse Category: +S through Z > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 2281 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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The Containment Clause

part 7
            Raphael pried his eyes open to the greeting of a pounding headache. The back of his throat felt like someone had stuffed it full of cotton balls; his tongue a heavy lump at the bottom of his mouth. Even the slightest movement of his head to try and see where he was wrapped him in a wave of dizziness and nausea.
            Considering the fact that his vision was too blurred to see anything other than light, he decided to lay still and try to remember where he was. Attempting to lift his arms proved futile, either he had lost all muscular control, or he was bound.
            That realization set off a chain reaction in his memory, and Raph suddenly knew where he was. He was in Bishop’s underground EPF stronghold.
            As soon as he remembered that, he also remembered that he wasn’t there alone. Donatello was there too and that thought pushed aside the momentary fuzziness, enabling him to remember what had happened to bring him to his current situation.
            He had been with Don in the main lab, sifting through some notes his brother had jotted down. Don’s handwriting had proven to be as big a mystery to the other scientists as the adaptive mutation had been, but Raph had grown up reading his brother’s scrawl.
            Raph had volunteered to type the notes into the lab mainframe, and Don had enthusiastically set him to work. It wasn’t long though before one of the scientists walked over and told him his brother needed another set of papers that he’d left in their bedroom.
            Thinking nothing of that, Raph had jumped up and left the lab. Everything was fine as he made his way through the corridors; nothing seemed out of place, and nothing had set off his radar.
            Until he walked through the bedroom door. Just as he stepped through, all kinds of alarm bells started ringing in his head. By that time it was too late.
            Somebody grabbed him in a stronghold he couldn’t shake loose from, and he felt something sharp pinch his neck. That was the last thing he remembered until now.
            His vision was starting to come into focus, and he blinked rapidly. The only person in the entire facility who could possibly be strong enough or skilled enough to hold him singlehandedly was Agent John Bishop.
            With a snarl, he tried working his arms again, and then his legs. Several moments of fruitless tugging ensured him he was strapped spread-eagled, carapace down on a cold steel table.
            Breathing hard, Raph cursed under his breath. Trusting Bishop and letting his guard down was the stupidest fucking thing he had ever done.
            Raph twisted his head around and saw he was in a lab very similar to the one Don had been working in. His brother was nowhere in sight; so either he was a captive elsewhere, or not a captive at all, which meant he probably had no idea that Raph had been taken.
            How long would it be before Donatello noticed Raph had gone missing? It really depended on how deeply into his work he happened to be, and that unfortunately, could mean hours.
            Hours of Don alone with Agent Bishop. Raph jerked against his restraints again, his teeth gnashing together and his lips curling back in a silent snarl. He had to get out before Bishop assaulted Donatello again; he couldn’t allow his brother, his love, to be raped by that madman.
            “Well, well, well. What have we here? Surely not one of the freaks who has been such a thorn in my side? And the violent one to boot; it must be my lucky day.”
            Raph’s head came up at the familiar and most unwelcome voice. Coming towards him was the last person on earth he ever wanted to see again.
            “Stockman,” Raph growled. “What the fuck is the meaning of this?”
            Stockman laughed lightly, coming to stand next to the table. “I realize you aren’t the smart one, but surely even you can figure out what this means. Agent Bishop has kindly volunteered your services for some experiments I’ve been most anxious to try.”
            “Fucking bastard,” Raph hissed, trying to jerk his arm down. The thick metal bands on his wrists held him firmly in place.
            “To which of us are you referring?” Stockman asked, leaning over to study Raph’s face. “Or was that derogative meant to cover both Bishop and I? It’s appropriate from your point of view I’m sure.”
            “Bishop wants that cure and he sure as shell ain’t gonna get it from Don now,” Raph snapped at him. “This shit wasn’t part of the deal.”
            “Bishop wants Donatello,” Stockman retorted sharply. “He is beyond caring about a mutated outbreak virus. He is actually beyond caring about most things other than sinking his cock into your brother.”
            Raph once again jerked and struggled viciously against his restraints. “Shut up Stockman. Shut the fuck up!”
            “What, can’t hear the truth?” Stockman mocked. “I really don’t know why this seems to have consumed him so suddenly, nor do I care. The fact remains that I was easily able to maneuver him into a situation where I got to have you in exchange for, let us say, clearing the playing field? You’ve been unconscious for about an hour, do you honestly think Bishop wasted any of that time worrying about what Donatello would do when he discovered you were missing? Bishop probably has him bent over a lab table right now, fucking his lights out.”
            Raph pulled violently against the metal bands, unconcerned about the damage he was doing to his skin. “Let me out of this now Stockman, or I swear . . . .”
            “I built the current body Bishop occupies. It really is a marvel of my scientific genius. Just for the shear gratification of it, I endowed him with certain enhanced features, and I made sure all the nerve endings were properly connected. His current state is a grand testament to my brilliance. I just had no idea he was going to become attracted to one of you freaks.” Stockman laughed again, relishing Raph’s anger.
            Tears of frustration were threatening to break from the corners of Raph’s eyes and he bit his own tongue, hard. The pain helped him focus away from the frustration; he wasn’t going to give Stockman the satisfaction of drawing tears.
            Stockman was watching his face carefully. The rage and pain that the terrapin was displaying as the doctor taunted him was beyond the greatest bodily torture he could have come up with. Toying with Raphael like this was making up for a lot of the pain he himself had endured.
            “In case you’re too thick to understand what enhanced features mean,” Stockman continued, his voice almost purring, “it means I gave him a very large penis. Enormous for a man of his size. I simply couldn’t help myself, and really, he never complained. I doubt he thought he’d ever use it. He probably has years of sexual frustration built up by now.”
            “Shut up!” Raph yelled, his voice hoarse from trying to drown out the unwanted words that washed over him.
            “He was masturbating to the image of your brother,” Stockman continued, a smirk on his holographic face. “Bishop is in such physical pain he can’t think at all, and I took complete advantage of that fact. He doesn’t even give a damn anymore about who is running this show; all he cares about is sticking that enormously hard, pulsating cock of his into Donatello’s ass.”
            Raph’s chest was heaving now, his pulse pounding in his temples. He didn’t want the mental images Stockman insisted on painting; but he couldn’t close his mind to them.
            “Don’t worry though, I’m sure after a few times, Bishop will give Donatello’s ass a break,” Stockman assured him, smiling down at the obvious pain on Raph’s face. “After all, your brother has a nice, wide mouth for Bishop to use as well.”
            A wild scream of rage and anguish poured up from Raph’s diaphragm, scorching his already sore throat. Stockman remained completely still as he watched Raph’s tortured soul buck and thrash on the metal table.
            Leaning closer still, Stockman whispered, “Bishop’s going to paint Donatello’s entire body, inside and out, with his hot come.”
            Drawing back, Stockman took a moment to relish the tear that slid out to dampen Raph’s mask. Wanting more than that, Stockman reached up and pulled the mask from Raph’s face.
            “Well, that was an enjoyable interlude,” Stockman said. “I could go on like this for hours. I would love to show you film of Bishop raping your brother, but I made an agreement to give up the one lovely piece of footage I had. It seems Agent Bishop had just enough sense left to destroy the rest of my cameras before he locked himself in the lab with Donatello.”
            Raph yanked against his ankle bands and another unwanted tear rolled across his temple, delighting Stockman enormously.
            “The funny thing is, Bishop’s obsession with fucking Donatello gave me a little idea of my own,” Stockman told Raphael.
            Touching a button on the table brought a metal arm down from the ceiling above Raph, and Stockman pulled it over to him.
            “I tried diligently to create something useful from the tissue samples that you terrapins so thoughtfully provided Agent Bishop,” Stockman said. “I simply couldn’t manufacture anything viable from them. Such a waste of my precious time.”
            “Maybe ya’ just ain’t as smart as ya’ think ya’ are,” Raph managed to croak out.
            Stockman turned from fiddling with the metal arm long enough to grin at Raph. “It’s good to see you have so much fight in you. I really do need for you to have a lot of energy.”
            “My brothers are gonna show up the very second they don’t hear from us,” Raph told him.
            “Let them,” Stockman snorted. “That’s Bishop’s problem. Don’t you think he built this facility with the likes of you in mind? With or without Miss O’Neil’s assistance, they won’t reach us in here.”
            “Ya’ always did think too highly of yourself,” Raph goaded him, hoping for a flash of careless anger.
            All Stockman did was laugh as he continued fitting something onto the metal arm.
            “Let me tell you my idea,” Stockman said without bothering to look at Raph. “Tissue samples being completely useless, I thought to myself ‘what else could provide me with DNA markers that would be useful to work with’? Well, of course, the obvious answer was semen.”
            He seemed to sense the horrified look on Raph’s face and began to nod his holographic head in response. “I could of course just ask Bishop to bring me some samples since he’ll probably make Donatello ejaculate frequently, but I’d really rather keep this a little secret. And viola.”
            Stockman pushed the metal arm back directly over Raph’s head so that the Turtle could see what he had been working on. Affixed to the arm was a large, green dildo.
            “I’m rather proud of this creation,” Stockman said, tilting his head to admire his handiwork. “The original construction was a lovely shade of light chocolate brown, but after seeing your brother’s cock on display, I thought you might appreciate a more familiar color.”
            Chuckling to himself, he pressed several buttons on the console that was connected to the table and the mechanical metal arm moved back down Raph’s body, lowering into place between Raph’s thighs.
            “Oh don’t worry,” Stockman told him gleefully, “it is well lubed. As much as I would love to simply pound into you to cause you as much pain as possible, I know that isn’t the best way to excite the reaction I desire.”
            “Ya’ ain’t getting anything from me Stockman,” Raph growled.
            “Even if that’s true, I’ll still enjoy humiliating you,” Stockman said, “and then I’ll just go ahead and dissect you. This way you live a little longer. You understand, I want more than one sample; I’ll need quite a bit in order to conduct all the experiments I’ve already thought of. As long as you produce, you stay in one piece. As brilliant as I am, even I can’t draw semen from a corpse.”
            Raph felt the tip of the dildo begin to press against his anus and tried to shift his body away from the invasion.
            “Stop it Stockman,” he yelped, beginning to panic, “this is beyond depraved!”
            “Yes, I do have to hand it to myself,” Stockman chirped. “This is a masterfully brilliant idea. I get the revenge I want, and I get to experiment while you’re alive to suffer for my enjoyment.”
            The dildo stopped just as the head breached Raph’s entry. Lifting one of his robotic hands, Stockman fitted a three fingered green leather glove on himself and held it out for Raph to see.
            “Almost like your brother’s hand isn’t it?” Stockman asked. “One of the nice things I learned from that film of Bishop molesting your brother is where you hide your cock. Don’t worry though, once I coax it out I have another machine that will jack you off and collect your spillage. I really haven’t the time to stand here and do it myself. I’d just like to get things rolling, so to speak.”
            His hand slipped down Raph’s plastron and unerringly found the soft cartilage of his slit, stroking over it with a light touch.
            “Get your hands off of me!” Raph shouted at him.
            “I’d relax if I were you Raphael,” Stockman told him. “The dildo will start moving again in a minute or so, and I haven’t prepped you. Don’t worry though, I’ve set the machine to move very slowly so it will stretch and lube your ass as it goes in. Meanwhile, I do think I can better set the mood.”
            Touching another set of controls, Stockman brought a display screen down in front of Raph’s eyes. It flickered once, and then began to play the film of Raph and Don together in the bedroom as they kissed.
            “Just watch the screen and imagine this is Donatello’s hand on your dick; Donatello’s hard erection penetrating your ass. It’s the closest you’re going to come to that ever again, so you really should make the most of it.”
            Raphael ground his teeth together as he felt the dildo move fractionally further into his anal canal.
            “I ain’t performing ya’ fuckin’ bastard,” he said with an angry growl.
            “Don’t you think I would have foreseen your stubbornness?” Stockman continued to stroke Raph’s slit as he delved into the table and withdrew a hypodermic. “Just a little something to break down your inhibitions.”
            Raph tried to pull his head away as the needle touched the side of his neck, but he couldn’t avoid the shot. He felt something warm begin to move into his bloodstream almost immediately, and his frantic breathing began to settle, the muscles in his arms relaxing.
            His eyes seemed drawn to the screen above him as the camera zoomed in to a view of his hands roaming over Don’s beautiful olive green body. He watched as his fingers kneaded the soft flesh on Don’s buttocks and remembered how sensuous it felt as his hands began to open and close with the residual memory.
            Stockman kept his mouth closed as he watched the drug take effect. The dildo moved further into Raphael’s more relaxed rectum, and Stockman could feel a bulge growing beneath his fingers where they caressed the Turtle’s plastron.
            Raph was trying hard to hold on to his rational mind; but the drug was slowly taking away his control. His hips moved upwards towards Stockman’s hand, unconsciously urging that the man continue as Raph’s mind told him the hand belonged to Donny.
            By now, the dildo was fully sheathed in Raph’s body. Stockman waiting a few moments, then pressed another button. The device began to inflate slowly, stretching Raphael a little at a time. The feeling of fullness reached the nerve centers in Raph’s brain and he churred.
            Stockman beamed in delight, recognizing the sound as one of pleasure. The bulge under Raph’s plastron had grown to an enormous size, and Raph’s cock began to peak through the slit.
            The green leather played around the outer edges of Raph’s hard, green shaft, coaxing it further with teasing touches. Raph churred again, barely aware of his surroundings as his eyes remained fixed to the images playing over again in an endless loop.
            His mouth opened and his tongue flicked out as he watched himself kiss Donatello. Raphael thought he could taste Don’s mouth; so sweet and sensual.
            Stockman readied another hypodermic as he worked to draw Raph’s cock completely out into the open. That done, he typed in the code that brought up another mechanical arm, likewise fitted with a hand-like device; covered in a second green leather glove.
            He was going to give himself the satisfaction of squeezing the first ejaculate from his victim; after that Stockman would leave the gathering of samples to his machines.
******************
            Don had begun to grow anxious fifteen minutes after turning to say something to Raph and discovering his brother was no longer sitting at the computer desk. When he stopped a technician to ask if the man knew where Raph had gone, the man’s eyes had dilated as he told Don that his brother had said he was going to the bathroom.
            He tried not to read anything into what appeared to be a direct lie; after all, fear could make the eyes dilate also and some of the lab technicians hadn’t quite gotten used to him.
            After twenty-five minutes had passed with no sign of Raph, Don moved over to the computer desk and asked for a playback of the corridor monitors. He watched Raph leave the lab, moving in the direction of their bedroom, when suddenly the screen went blank.
            Bishop stepped up to the door of the lab and unconsciously straightened his tie. He noted with great misgivings that his hands were shaking. How he had let Stockman manipulate him into a fit of jealousy was something he couldn’t fathom, but now the deed was done.
            Away from Stockman’s overbearing presence, Bishop’s pulled enough of his rational mind together to understand that what he had done needed to be remedied. Bishop’s entire existence was directed towards one outcome, and succumbing to sudden, strange physical desires did not fit into his plans.
            There was only one thing he could think to do to regain his senses, and only one being who he could think to turn to for assistance.
            Don looked up from the computer when he heard Bishop come into the lab. Turning, he asked, “Do you know where Raphael is? I haven’t seen my brother in a long time; it’s not like him to go off without telling me where he’s going.”
            Already feeling distressed, his anxiety grew to the acute level when he saw the look on Bishop’s face, and realized that all the other scientists and technicians had at some point vanished.
            Bishop pointed a remote control device at the lab doors, and they slid shut, their locks snapping loudly into place. Don’s eyes grew wide when Bishop then aimed the small device up towards the ceiling and the red beam of a laser shot out, completely destroying what appeared to be a small camera. As he repeated the gesture several times over, Don pulled his bo staff and assumed a defensive posture.
            “Your brother is in a great deal of danger,” Bishop said, breaking the silence finally. “Those were cameras that Stockman placed all over this facility, without my knowledge.”
            Don wasn’t concerned about cameras. “Where is Raphael?” he snapped, feeling his anger beginning to surge.
            Bishop removed his dark glasses and met Don’s eyes. “Stockman has him.”
            “How? Why?” Don spluttered. “You gave me your word we would be in no danger.”
            “I am afraid I underestimated the good doctor,” Bishop replied. “It seems he has been monitoring my activities, something I am ashamed to admit I should have foreseen.”
            “I want to know about my brother,” Don insisted, his voice harsh.
            “You mean your lover, don’t you Donatello?” Bishop asked.
            Don’s eyes narrowed. “Stockman’s cameras seem to have done their damage,” he said. “What my brother and I are to each other is none of your concern. He is still my brother and I want to know now what’s happened to him.”
            “Stockman offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse,” Bishop answered. “He wanted your brother in exchange for keeping certain . . . film from becoming widely known.”
            “What the shell? Since when has anyone been able to blackmail you?” Don asked incredulously.
            “Since never,” Bishop told him, his voice deepening. “I have never found myself in this type of situation. I cannot concentrate; I am unable to focus properly on any task, and the reason is you.”
            “Me?
            “My mind is clouded with desires that my body is unable to resist,” Bishop told him plainly. “If there were enough time, I would try to understand what is happening to me, but there isn’t. I still need you to create an antidote for the adaptive mutation and I also need you desperately in other ways. I am cognizant enough at the moment to understand that none of those things are going to happen if I allow Stockman to harm Raphael.”
            “Then stop him,” Don said.
            “I can’t,” Bishop admitted. “He has seized control of some of the higher computer functions in this facility. He has locked down certain areas so that my troops are separated from me. I have safeguards in place to circumvent him, but I can’t concentrate to put them into place.”
            “Then let me help,” Don offered.
            “You will have to, but I’m afraid not in the way you meant,” Bishop said, clearing his throat.
            He reached up to rub his forehead, an unfamiliar gesture to Donatello, who was used to seeing the man in complete control of himself.
            “Bishop, if Stockman has Raph every second we spend here debating this issue is a second off my brother’s life expectancy. Tell me what we can do.”
            “I have to free my mind Donatello,” Bishop looked into Don’s eyes and a spark of desire surged down his spine.
            Don watched a shudder run over Bishop’s frame and his hands tightened on his bo.
            “Talk to me Bishop,” Don said.
            Bishop took a step towards him, Don’s scent coming at him in waves. His stomach knotted, his body heating up as a strong surge of pressure pushed into his groin. Bishop’s cock responded, starting to fill out quickly.
            “I . . . I can tell you . . . you can help me override the systems . . . help me b-break into Stockman’s lab,” Bishop stuttered, his rational mind fading quickly.
            “Tell me then,” Don urged.
            “Can’t form . . . thought . . . .” Bishop tightened his fists and pounded them into his thighs. “Donatello, you have to let me fuck you,” he said in the momentary lucidity that the pain had produced.
            Don took a step back in astonishment. “What?”
            “I must have release; I must have sex with you. Masturbation doesn’t work,” Bishop told him.
            Don watched him struggle to maintain a hold on his sanity. “There has to be another way.”
            “We don’t have time to find it!” Bishop yelled, striking his thighs again. “I can’t think. I need you now. Once I’ve released, I’ll be able to save your brother. Hurry and decide Donatello. I don’t want to take you by force; but I can barely hang on.”
            Don felt an awful dread growing as he watched Bishop struggle. He had to have Bishop’s help to save Raph, and Bishop had to have his in order to clear his mind.
            Licking his lips, he set his bo staff aside. “All right. You have my consent; just please hurry.”
            Bishop nodded as another rush of heat flushed his skin. Reaching into his jacket’s pocket, he pulled out a tube of lubricant and then removed the jacket, tossing it aside.
            Don glanced down and saw Bishop’s erection tenting his pants. He swallowed thickly; not wanting what was about to happen, but seeing no way out of it.
            “Turn around and grab the edge of the desk,” Bishop told him. “It will be easier on you if you don’t look at my penis.”
            Now that he knew he was going to take Donatello, Bishop’s body and mind settled into a strange calm. He focused his entire being into the needs that were devouring him; his natural businesslike efficiency taking over the process.
            Don could only nod as he turned his back to Bishop. Leaning forward, he gripped the upper edge of the desk, squeezing tightly enough to hurt his hands, hoping to pull his mind onto something other than what Bishop was doing.
            “I’m going to shift your legs into a better position,” Bishop told him, and Don gasped as he felt the man’s warm, strong hands grasp his thighs. “Spread them for me, please.”
            Doing as instructed, Don opened his legs wider, and moved them back further as he felt Bishop pull at them. He was bent far forward, his face close to the desk top when Bishop stopped moving him.
            Don heard the top of the lubricant tube pop open, every sound strangely magnified. He could hear Bishop take a deep breath in through his nostrils, and then let the air out through his mouth.
            “Pressure now, and probably a little chill,” Bishop told him.
            Don squeezed his eyes shut when he felt Bishop’s finger begin to circle his entrance, and his hands gripped the desk’s edge even harder.
            “You have to relax Donatello,” Bishop said. “Otherwise this is going to hurt more than it needs to.”
            “It hurts enough already,” Don said, but willed his body to comply, trying hard to keep his body from tensing up as he felt the finger begin to push into him.
            Then Bishop grasped his tail, tugging on it gently and sending a spike of pleasure through the Turtle’s system. Don’s head came up quickly as he shivered, feeling the man’s hand begin to stroke his tail with long, languid pulls.
            It almost covered the sensation of Bishop’s finger entering him. The digit was moist and warm, moving at a slow, even pace. Don tried to think of something else, anything other than the fact that Agent John Bishop was fingering him.
            The movement finally stopped, and then slowly slid back. He heard Bishop opening the lubricant again, applying it generously in an effort to avoid hurting Don.
            As the finger moved back inside of him, Bishop said, “I’m going to turn my finger a bit to stretch you, and then I’m going to add a second. I know we haven’t much time, but I am rather . . . large, and I don’t want to injure you.”
            “O-okay,” Don said, and bit his lip as he felt Bishop’s finger move inside his body.
            When the second one began to press into him, Don automatically tensed up again.
            “Donatello,” Bishop said softly, rolling Don’s tail between his fingers.
            Don’s breath caught, his heart pounding as he told himself to calm down.
            Once both fingers were in up to Bishop’s knuckles, he began to scissor them, moving them in and out in a slow, rocking motion. He purposely searched for Don’s prostate, wanting to give Donatello pleasure as well as take it from him.
            When his fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves, Don jerked and cried out, completely surprised at the sensation.
            “Are you a virgin Donatello?” Bishop asked, a small smile playing across his lips.
            “N-no,” Don answered, his voice shaking.
            “You are very, very tight,” Bishop observed, his cock jumping in reaction to the heat pocketing Bishop’s fingers. “Not a virgin, but very little experience I would say, judging from your reaction. Be honest with me.”
            Don’s forehead came down to touch the top of the desk. “I’ve had sex just once, Bishop.”
            “Ah, that explains so much,” Bishop said, moving his fingers to touch Don’s prostate again.
            Don’s breath hitched, and his legs trembled. Toes curling into the concrete floor, Don felt his cock responding to the pleasurable feeling of having his prostate massaged. Try as he might, he couldn’t make his body ignore the sensations.
            “Was it with Raphael?” Bishop wanted to know. Somehow it seemed very important to him.
            “Bishop, j-just do what you have t-to,” Don insisted, not wanting to talk about his brother while Bishop was taking his sexual pleasure at Donatello’s expense.
            “It was,” Bishop said, jamming his fingers in a bit harder, touching the nerves with a solid hit.
            “Uhh!” Don yelped, his knuckles blanching white as his entire body shook. His cock grew larger; still snugly inside his plastron, it was beginning to grow painful.
            Don felt Bishop’s erection press against the back of his thigh as the man leaned forward, reaching around Don with his free hand. Slipping his hand down, Bishop began rubbing his palm over Don’s hidden cock.
            “Let it out Donatello,” Bishop told him. “I said before I would make this pleasurable for you as well.”
            “I d-don’t want y-your pleasure,” Don stammered through gritted teeth.
            “Your body does,” Bishop replied, his voice like smooth velvet. “This doesn’t have to be an unpleasant memory for you.”
            Don almost laughed. “I’m bent over a desk in your lab while you sexually molest me and I’m letting you because my brother’s life is in danger. What part of that is not unpleasant?” he asked sarcastically.
            “This part,” Bishop answered, shoving his fingers into Don’s prostate again.
            Bright lights popped across Don’s vision and his dick twisted, desperately reaching for freedom and the warmth of the hand hovering above it. With a last, futile attempt to contain it, Don gave in, his cock dropping down to be quickly devoured by Bishop’s hand.
            The first stroke forced an unwitting churr from Don. The sound seemed to be some sort of signal to Bishop, who quickly pulled his fingers out of the Turtle’s ass.
            Bishop’s hand left his cock, and Don took a deep breath. Unable to stop himself, he looked back over his shoulder, wanting suddenly to know what Bishop was doing.
            The sound of Bishop’s zipper snapped Don’s head forward again, and he squeezed his eyes, curling his lips inwards.
            “Donatello, listen to me,” Bishop said. “I don’t want to mark you, do you understand? I don’t want to come inside you because I know you aren’t a willing participant in this.”
            Don nodded, feeling a strange surge of hysterical relief.
            Bishop continued, “I’m going to apply a coating of a special latex aerosol to my penis. It will act like a condom. If it will help you mentally, you can think of this as nothing more than a . . . a rectal exam.”
            Don nodded again, not willing to attempt to form words. He heard the hiss of the aerosol as Bishop coated his erection, and then the wet sound of the lubricant sliding across skin.
            The urge to stand up and run was so overwhelming that Don nearly gave in to it. Only the thought of Raph in Stockman’s maniacal hands kept him firmly in place.
            Bishop’s cock was throbbing as he spread the lubrication over the latex condom. He could still feel every tiny sensation; his body jumping with nerves as he stared at Don’s open and willing entrance.
            Grabbing his cock in one hand, he placed the other on Don’s hip and guided the tip of his dick to press against Don’s anus.
            Don’s forehead hit the desk hard as he felt Bishop’s erection push into his ass. The man moved very slowly, forcing his huge shaft into Don’s tight anal canal. No amount of preparation could have readied Don for the massive incursion.
            Hissing at the pain, Don started to tense up again. Bishop immediately stopped moving and one hand snaked around to grasp Don’s bobbing cock, pumping it expertly, and quickly bringing Don back to full arousal.
            Once he had relaxed Don sufficiently, Bishop moved again. He managed to finally sheath his entire cock inside of Donatello, and he paused to take a long, calming breath.
            “You feel amazing,” he muttered, shivering at the tight heat surrounding his shaft. “So tight, so good.”
            Don wished he would stop talking, but was unable to say anything. Bishop’s hand continued to stroke Don’s cock, forcing from it the pearly pre-come that signaled the Turtles excitement.
            Churring instead, Don tried to focus on his own need, stoked to almost unbearable proportions. Then Bishop began to move.
            At first the slide in and out was slow and easy, but the delicious friction against his straining organ was too much for Bishop’s patience, and he started to move faster. He reached out to grip Donatello’s hip, then moved his free hand up to the edge of Don’s carapace.
            “I don’t w-want to leave a bruise,” Bishop said, still somewhat practical as he rammed his length into Donatello’s accommodating heat.
            Don’s body rocked with Bishop’s thrusts, which were becoming fuller and harder. The man’s cock began to pound into Donatello’s prostate continuously, and Don’s body quivered and shook at the intensity of the pleasure that shot into his cock.
            “Not . . . long now,” Bishop husked, his rhythm faltering. “I’m going to come, Donatello. I’m going . . . to . . . “
            His voice stopped as he pulled his hips back and snapped them forward in full body thrusts. Suddenly his hips came forward as far as possible and his body stopped moving, his hand squeezing around Don’s cock.
            With a shout, Bishop came; his orgasm powerful and raw. He ground his cock into Don’s ass, shivering as he emptied himself completely.
            Don could feel the heat of Bishop’s seed as it filled the latex bubble protecting him from the ejaculate. Don’s cock was twitching against Bishop’s hand, painful in its need for a last bit of friction to push him over the edge.
            Bishop pulled out of him without warning, releasing Don’s cock and grabbing the edges of his shell to spin the Turtle around. Don let go of the desk in surprise, and watched in shock as Bishop dropped to his knees between Don’s thighs.
            Taking Don’s darkly aroused cock in hand, Bishop held it in place as he moved his mouth to cover it. Don choked, bringing his palms down flat on the desk behind him as Bishop quickly deep throated him.
            “Wh . . .what are you doing?” Don whispered, unable to fully find his voice.
            Bishop lifted his head enough to say, “Finishing this. You don’t want to leave your semen here, and this will feel much better than my jerking you off.”
            Not giving Don time to protest, Bishop’s hot, wet mouth surrounded the Turtles organ, sucking it in down slowly. As his drew his head back, Bishop rolled his tongue along the bottom of Don’s shaft.
            Don’s arms shook in an effort to stay upright as he felt Bishop pulling him towards his orgasm. Bishop’s tongue swirled over the tip of Don’s cock, flicking the slit several times before swallowing him again.
            As the head of his penis touched the back of Bishop’s throat, Don came with a long, needy whine. His legs shook as he orgasmed and Bishop’s head remained locked in place, his throat moving as he swallowed everything Don gave.
            When Bishop finally pulled away from him, Don rolled backwards onto the desk to avoid collapsing on the floor. His eyes were shut; he didn’t want to watch as Bishop removed the latex condom from his dick and disposed of it.
            Adjusting his clothing, Bishop took a deep, satisfied breath. Don’s taste filled his mouth and he licked his lips; he couldn’t remember a time when he had savored something quite as much.
            He watched as Don carefully tucked his cock away, his eyes firmly closed. The Turtle was still breathing hard and Bishop guessed it wasn’t just the physical exertion, but the emotional one that was getting to him.
            For the first time in a couple of days, Bishop felt like himself again. He didn’t fool himself into thinking it was a permanent thing; he could still smell Don’s scent, but for the moment his mind was clear enough to know exactly what needed to be done.
            “Donatello, pull yourself together. We need to rescue your brother,” Bishop said, his tone firm and sharp.
TBC…..
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The Containment Clause