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The Pain Game	By : hummerhouse Category: +S through Z > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 4701 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. No money being made.

Chapter List
- 1-The Pain Game
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15
- 16-Part 16
- 17-Part 17
- 18-Part 18
- 19-Part 19
- 20-Part 20
- 21-Part 21
- 22-Part 22
- 23-Part 23
- 24-Part 24
- 25-Part 25
- 26-Part 26
- 27-Part 27
- 28-Part 28
- 29-Part 29
- 30-Part 30
- 31-Part 31
- 32-Part 32
- 33-Part 33
- 34-Part 34
- 35-Part 35
- 36-Part 36
- 37-Part 37
- 38-Part 38
- 39-Part 39 Final
- 6
- 7
- 8
            Two things were evident the next morning; Mikey was a little weak in the knees because he’d over stimulated himself the night before and Raphael was careful to avoid looking directly into his younger brother’s eyes.
            Mikey had only suspected Raph of having a wet dream about him but the fact that he wouldn’t meet Mikey’s gaze was as good as a firm confirmation.
            The younger turtle found that he was very conflicted about that. While he lay on his bed pleasuring himself to the sounds of Raph’s churrs he’d wished that his brother’s dreams were about him. A fantasy about Raph discovering a deep seated desire for Mikey was only satisfying if there wasn’t a lot of guilt surrounding that revelation.
            It wasn’t worth it if Raph was going to wallow in a pit of shame over his feelings. Mikey knew where that would lead; straight down a path of avoidance and possibly to the point where Raph started spending his nights on Casey’s couch.
            Mikey’s twisted sexual desires and warped pain kink weren’t supposed to go beyond the interior of his own head. He certainly didn’t mean to telegraph any of his true feelings but it seemed as if he was giving off signals without realizing it. Even Leo and Don had started to question him.
            Satisfying his needs by getting a daily dose of Raph’s retribution had seemed like a marvelous idea at the time, but Mikey hadn’t known there would be ramifications. He surely hadn’t expected that his common sense would succumb to some deeper instinct and send him to do foolhardy things like invading his brother’s bedroom.
            He was starting to understand how junkies felt. He didn’t want his fetish to grow into a dangerous obsession, but Mikey wasn’t exactly in a position to quit his addiction cold turkey. Not only was Raph his brother, but they were mutated turtles living a secret existence underground. It wasn’t like Mikey could pack up and move to Jersey.
            Fortunately Master Splinter did not pit them against each other during practice. Mikey drew Donatello as a sparring partner and silently thanked whoever was handing out luck that day. Don was wickedly brutal with his bo staff but he wasn’t as vicious as Leo, especially when the eldest brother sensed that one of his siblings wasn’t fighting up to par.
            It was bad enough though because Donny could tell that something was wrong. He didn’t let up on Mikey, setting him on his rump several times, but he was frowning during their match.
            At the end of practice Mikey was nearly on Master Splinter’s heels in his rush to leave the dojo. He didn’t know where he wanted to go, but removing himself from Raph’s view seemed like a prudent step.
            As it turned out, his dodging Raph meant he wasn’t paying attention to his other two brothers. He should have known Donatello wouldn’t leave things alone.
            “Hold up, Mikey,” Don said, stepping quickly to catch up to his brother.
            Mikey grimaced but quickly hid it as he turned around, producing a grin meant to disarm the brainiac. If Mikey had been a couple of minutes faster, he’d have made it out of the lair.
            “What’s up bro’?” Mikey asked.
            “That’s what I was going to ask you,” Don said, his expression reminding Mikey of a storm cloud about to burst.
            Having an angry genius after him was absolutely on Mikey’s top five list of things to avoid in life.
            “Uh, just going out to take the skateboard for a spin,” Mikey said in his most innocent voice.
            Normally he might have asked ‘why’ or ‘did you need me for something’ but Mikey’s only focus today was to escape the lair so he could think.
            “Do you know why I go to practice every day?” Don asked, staring hard at his brother.
            Mikey blinked, the unexpected question catching him off guard. He started to open his mouth to produce an answer but Donatello saved him the bother.
            “I practice to work on my skills and to keep them honed,” Don told him, “not to spend my time knocking you on your tail bone every five minutes. First you pulled that stunt with Raph and now with me. I don’t appreciate it one bit.”
            “Dude, I wasn’t doing it on purpose,” Mikey protested swiftly. “Can’t a turtle have an off-day?”
            Don’s eyes narrowed, a sure sign he was thinking hard. “Have you been sneaking out at night again and not getting enough sleep? You haven’t been running around playing at being the Turtle Titan have you?”
            “What’s that mean, ‘playing’ at being the Turtle Titan?” Mikey asked, his pride pricked by Don’s tone. “Silver Sentry appreciates me even if you guys don’t. And no, I haven’t worn the costume in months. I’m going stir crazy and I’ve got too much excess energy, okay?”
            “One would think that would be all the more reason for you to move faster when we spar,” Don said, clearly not buying Mikey’s excuses.
            “That just shows how much you don’t know about me,” Mikey said quickly, before his brother could continue. “Master Splinter requires focus and discipline when we spar and that’s your thing, not mine. When I fight I like to go off instinct and follow my gut. I’m so busy trying to hold back so sensei doesn’t fuss at me again I can’t be me.”
            “He fussed at you because you were running away from Raph, not sparring with him,” Don said.
            “I wasn’t running away,” Mikey said, practically stepping on Don’s words. “I was baiting him. Getting under his skin is part of my strategy for beating Raph. Even he knows that, not that it helps him control himself.”
            Don’s expression turned calculating and Mikey wondered what he’d latched onto. Having a brother who remembered everything put one at a distinct disadvantage.
            “On at least three different occasions during that match Raph let his guard down enough so that you could have finished him,” Don said. “Yet you took advantage of none of them.”
            Mikey thought fast, recognizing that a delay in answering would make Don even more suspicious.
            “So? The next day I waxed his butt,” Mikey said, making sure to look pleased with himself. “It was all part of my master plan. You’d better strap on some pillows tomorrow.”
            Don seemed just as peeved as when he’d stopped Mikey. “That’s the worst strategy ever. You can’t fight well one day and be off the next or Master Splinter will never let you go topside again. You need to fix whatever is going on with you and do it fast, and don’t feed me that stuff about having an ‘off’ day or a ‘master plan’. If this is some new convoluted prank you’ve decided to play, leave me out of it unless you want to accidently drink something that makes bubbles come out of your mouth every time you open it for the next month.”
            “Bro’, you can do that?” Mikey asked, perking up. “Seriously, I can think of a rad trick we could play on Casey with that stuff. Where is it, in your lab? Can I see it?”
            “No you can’t see it,” Don said, switching from annoyed to wary. “My experiments are not your toys. Weren’t you about to do something to get rid of all this excess energy you seem to have?”
            “Yeah, I was heading out to the tunnels to hit my board,” Mikey said.
            Don frowned. “You can’t.”
            There was a noticeable sinking feeling in Mikey’s belly at Don’s abrupt words. Mikey needed to get his head straight and burn off the jittery feeling he had, and skateboarding was his best option for both. Plus, making himself scarce would give Raph time to settle down and stop equating Mikey’s presence with whatever he’d dreamt about last night.
            “Why not?” Mikey asked, trying not to sound whiny.
            “Don’t you pay attention to the weather?” Don asked. “It’s been pouring rain since around midnight. I checked the cameras and almost all the tunnels have water running through them; some are even flooded already. If you want to skate, you’ll have to use the half pipe ramp we built in the garage.”
            It wasn’t as far away as Mikey wanted to be but at least it was out of the lair. He shrugged and said, “Why not? A workout’s a workout. I can catch some air and practice this sick new trick I’ve been working on.”
            “Try not to break anything,” Don said as Mikey started walking towards his skateboard.
            “Don’t be insulting, dude,” Mikey said, tucking his board under one arm. “I’ve never broken a single bone while skating.”
            “I wasn’t talking about your bones,” Don said, shooting his brother a saucy look.
            “Har-de-har-har,” Mikey responded, heading for the elevator. “Don’t you have some experiment to blow up?”
            Don didn’t bother with a come-back, no doubt happy to have distracted Mikey from all thoughts of invading his lab. Really, sometimes the genius was just too easy. All of Mikey’s brothers were, when it came right down to it. In some ways, Michelangelo knew them all better than they knew themselves.
            Having side-tracked Don’s irritation with him, Mikey took the elevator to the garage, happy to have the cavernous space to himself. Far from the vehicles and equipment that occupied the garage sat the twenty-five foot long half pipe that Mikey had finagled Don into helping him build.
            Standing on the high end of the platform deck, Mikey experienced the familiar exhilaration that came with starting a run. Hitting the play button on the nearby boom box immediately filled the garage with music and taking a quick breath, Mikey kicked off.
            Mikey always lost track of time while skating. He did not think about the tricks he performed; his talent was based on physical dexterity and intuitive feeling. The air whipping past his face, the board beneath his feet, the stretching muscles in his legs combined to place Mikey into an almost euphoric state.
            Whizzing up and down on the half pipe left Mikey’s mind free to wander and of course it drifted to the subject at the uppermost of his thoughts. He’d come to grips with his sudden lustful urges easily enough; he was a young male after all and there was nothing abnormal about being horny.
            What was off the scale was being turned on by pain; not just pain in and of itself, but as administered by his own brother. He didn’t know much about that particular subject and made a mental note to commit a little breaking and entering at the local library branch so he could borrow their computers and look that up. Using either Don or April’s laptops was out of the question; he didn’t have the necessary skill to hide what he’d been searching for and if either of them wanted to, they could find out.
            In the meantime, Mikey would have to limit his interactions with the hot head to things that were innocuous and wouldn’t get him into trouble. Things that wouldn’t cause Raph to hit him and thereby feed Mikey’s addiction.
            Since his other plan hadn’t worked so well, Mikey hoped that this one would return the way his brothers viewed him back to something resembling normal. Mikey doubted that Raph would miss having pranks played on him and to keep Don or Leo from noticing that something was amiss, Mikey would continue verbally teasing Raph in ways that wouldn’t call for a physical response.
            As much as he loved being a turtle, there were some situations where it was really awkward. Being one of only four of his kind didn’t leave Mikey with a lot of options when the mating instinct hit him. He felt kind of envious that his brothers appeared to have escaped that trial. It was hard though; Mikey had no one he could talk to about this and he’d always depended on family to help him through tough times.
            Mikey had no idea what suddenly distracted him, but he was jogged out of deep thought just as he completed an Indy and started into a three sixty rotation. The momentary lapse made him bring his back foot down wrong and the next thing Mikey knew, his butt was hitting the ground and his skateboard was landing on his stomach.
            “Oof!” Mikey huffed as the air was knocked out of him. Sitting up quickly, Mikey first checked that his skateboard was undamaged before standing.
            The hard wooden surface made his rear sting and Mikey started rubbing at it, deciding that a break for a cold drink was in order. As he turned toward the section of the garage where their second refrigerator was located, Mikey saw Raphael.
            The red banded turtle was leaning against the van, arms crossed over his plastron as he stared at his younger brother. There was no telling how long he’d been there and the idea that he’d been silently observing Mikey sent a shiver down the smaller turtle’s spine.
            Caught so unawares, Mikey didn’t have a chance to adjust to the presence of the brother he desired so rapaciously. He knew he should make some quip or ask if Raph needed something, or do anything other than just standing there wearing a vapid expression as they locked eyes.
            It absolutely did not help that Raph wore the faintest hint of a cocky grin, appearing as though he’d just won a point in a game of one-upmanship.
            The tableau was broken by the sound of the elevator signaling someone’s arrival. Raph turned, breaking off eye contact with Mikey, who stood there blinking rapidly as if just awakened from a hypnotic spell.
            “I found the spare rings,” Don said, looking at the motorcycle parts he was carrying before glancing up.
            “Are they the new ones?” Raph asked loudly so that Don would hear him over the sound of the music.
            Don looked over at Mikey, who hadn’t moved yet. “Could you turn it down?” Don asked, nodding towards the boom box.
            Turning away from his brothers, Mikey jumped up to the deck and cut the music off. As soon as they could hear each other without having to shout, his brothers returned to their mechanical discussion.
            “They’re the newer ones,” Don said, preferring precision in his words. “Are you sure the ones on your bike need to be replaced?”
            “Yeah, I’m sure,” Raph said. “Wouldn’t have asked ya’ to find those if I wasn’t.”
            Mikey walked over to the refrigerator and retrieved a cold bottle of water, downing half of it as he listened to his brothers. He had no idea what they were talking about other than it had something to do with Raph’s motorcycle, the motorcycle that Don had built for him.
            The language they were speaking was unique to the two of them and Mikey found himself envious of the ease with which Don conversed with Raph. This love of mechanics was something they shared, a commonality that Mikey did not have with the hot head.
            Suppose the same itch that was torturing Mikey were to hit Donatello? The genius probably wouldn’t have any trouble finding a way to make sure that Raph became just as attracted to him, leaving Mikey out in the cold.
            Shaking his head to clear it of those thoughts, Mikey watched Don spread the engine parts out on a work table. Raph stood across from him as the two bent over to look at what Don had brought, their heads close together.
            “It wasn’t that long ago that we put a set in your bike,” Don said. “Maybe you’d better check to see if the cylinders need to be re-bored.”
            “Ya’ in the middle of something or can ya’ give me a hand with that?” Raph asked.
            Mikey almost snorted. As if Don would said no.
            “Of course I can,” Don said, offering Raph a smile.
            It was too much for Mikey and he made a quick exit, tapping his foot in frustration as he rode the elevator down to the lair. Stomping into the kitchen he decided to start preparing dinner early, hoping that activity would allay some of the perturbation he was feeling.
            Donny. Good old Donatello. The brother who didn’t hack Raph off no matter what he said or did. The helpful brother. The smart brother. The brother who practically bent over backwards whenever Raph needed anything. Like swiping Mikey’s game controllers and hiding them so that just he and Raph could play. Or parking his ass on the couch next to Raph when a football game was on. Or building that bright red motorcycle for Raph, not once but three times as a replacement for those times it got smashed.
            Somewhere deep in the back of Mikey’s mind was a little voice reminding him that Don was the one who always fixed the game and the controllers whenever they got broken, that Don helped him build the half pipe Mikey enjoyed so much, that Don used Mikey’s suggestion for turning an armored car into the battle shell, and that Don was forever humoring Mikey’s crazy invention ideas.
            Mikey shoved that voice down and stomped on it. Whatever Don did for him or Leo, it wasn’t the same as when Don was with Raph. Don treated Raph differently.
            All of those questions Don had been probing him with the last couple of days took on a whole new meaning if Mikey looked at them from another point of view. Maybe Don was less worried about two of his brothers beings at odds with each other than he was with finding out if Mikey was encroaching on his territory.
            With an aggravated growl, Mikey took the pot he was holding and slammed it down on the stove hard enough to make the handle pop off.
            “Michelangelo!”
            Spinning around, Mikey saw Leo standing in kitchen doorway, his eyes wide with surprise.
            “Leo!” Mikey exclaimed, trying to regroup his temper. “I . . . uh . . . .”
            The sudden ringing of his shell cell cut off Mikey’s stammered explanation, offering him a reprieve which he accepted with alacrity.
            “Talk to the turtle,” Mikey chirped in his best devil-may-care tone of voice.
            Leo walked towards him, slightly distracting Mikey as he listened to the familiar voice on the other end of the line.
            “Sure we can do that,” Mikey responded, his eyes glued to Leo who was now standing directly in front of him. “Thirty minutes? No problemo.”
            “Mikey . . . .” Leo began as Mikey disconnected from the call.
            “No time to talk,” Mikey interrupted. “We’ve just been given a mission.”
            “Who was that?” Leo asked, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.
            “Nobody,” Mikey said, his good humor returning.
TBC………………
- 6
- 7
- 8
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The Pain Game