Florally Obsessed
I hope this was worth the wait. I wanted to challenge myself on this one by writing for Rise Donnie, a character I had never written for previously. It was also a challenge writing his...unique anatomy. This one does tie in to my other Rise fics. Mikey and Raph's can be found in my master-post. They are all aged-up and this is set in a future where they are 'out' living in the city with lives and jobs. In this case, our female Reader owns a flower shop and provides floral arrangements for Genius Built. This ended up being quite long, 32 pages and 13,211 words.
Note: This work does contain smut, including turtle anatomy (cloaca in tail peen), penetrative, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving) and multiple positions. Minors DNI, this is an 18+ blog.
One final note: I did state that this version of Donnie is on the spectrum, as many of us on here believe he is. It's unofficially canon as far as I'm concerned.
I couldn't have done this without the help from @iridescentflamingo and @adebauchedsloth, both for all of the ideas and beta-reading. Thank you, this one is for you and all of the Donnie girls.
If you enjoy my work please consider leaving a like, comment or reblogging it.
Snip, snip, just a few more…there, perfect.
You added another lavender bloom to your carefully crafted flower arrangement. Genius Built placed the order a few days ago, as they always did when the bouquets in the front reception area needed replacing.
It had been months of this, and every time there was one simple request on the order form that made you smile: lavender and purple flowers, please. Whoever placed these orders must love that colour.
They also seemed to be very pleased with your work. You always received a tip when delivering, and someone from the company had left a positive review. It has done wonders for increasing your sales.
By now, you’d been filling these orders for so long you barely needed to even look at the order form. As long as you included lavender and purple flowers in the arrangement, the sky was the limit, and you could employ your full artistic license every time.
Another thing that caught your attention about these particular orders was that they requested you to hand-deliver them. Okay, that was maybe a bit unusual, but you were the professional, and this was a high-end tech giant. Not only that, but Genius Built was a conglomerate with a fashion line and a wholesale supplies division.
You had actually been purchasing many of the main staples for your business from them. Baskets, containers, flower foam, wire, and preservatives, all priced reasonably and delivered as quickly as an Amazon package.
You sometimes wondered about the man at the very top of this company; you’d only seen him in video clips and pictures, and he certainly didn’t make public appearances all that often. It wasn’t as if he was hiding; he was incredibly well-known. Donatello Hamato, while a fashion mogul and tech genius, was also not human. In the ten years since the Krang attack, non-humans—Yokai, as they liked to be called—and mutants had been slowly integrating into modern society. Donatello, you figured, was camera-shy, the type of person who liked to keep to himself.
For some reason you couldn’t quite begin to understand, you found yourself imagining a bit about what he’d be like in a social situation. A date, perhaps? Would he smile shyly and act adorably formal, pulling out your chair before you could sit and offering you flowers of your own? Yes, you were involved in the industry that included bouquets, corsages, boutonnieres, and flowers specifically for grand romantic gestures, yet you’d never received flowers yourself. Among the few boyfriends you’d had, none of them had seen it as necessary to, in a sense, ‘give you what you already had’, but just because you dealt in flowers didn’t mean you didn’t want the gesture for yourself.
The fantasy continued as the two of you talked about your interests, and you unlocked the complex puzzle that is Donatello Hamato. From your limited knowledge, you knew he was a hero, started his company from the ground up with the help of his brothers, and was now one of the most well-respected businessmen in all of New York.
Scoffing gently to yourself, you snapped back to reality with the thought that you would likely never meet him, let alone have a conversation with him. Moreover, he probably had some high-profile girlfriend on his arm—smart, gorgeous, and wealthy, most likely. All things you certainly were not.
Your business, while still staying afloat, has always been precariously hovering just above the danger zone. Each year, more companies moved in, trying to overshadow your small shop, and people often bought cheap bouquets from local grocery and convenience stores. The saddest part was being grateful for funerals because then you were needed, but again, you weren’t the only flower shop in the area, and you had to hope they chose you over the business that claims to be cheaper and faster. A keen eye and a careful touch did not extend so far when the same could be achieved on a street corner a few blocks away.
Shelving those thoughts for now, you carefully loaded the finished arrangements into your delivery van and handed the counter over to your coworker.
Genius Built wasn’t far, just a few blocks away, but New York traffic could quickly change a fifteen-minute delivery to a forty-minute one. Luckily, the streets weren’t too bad this day.
Seeing the actual building always evoked a sense of awe and grandiosity. Like every other skyscraper, it was tall, uniform, and perfectly constructed, with reflective windows and slate-grey stone. The Genius Built logo, of course, reigned high above, violet in colour, shining like the beacon of confidence it was.
You felt proud that they had chosen you to bring colour and life to the otherwise mostly sterile reception area. One by one, the flower arrangements were unloaded and brought inside. Larger ones were placed at the entrance, and smaller ones at the reception desk. Satisfied with your work, you paused to admire your efforts and had the receptionist sign the order form.
Just before leaving, you looked straight up into the security camera with a smile and a wave, almost as if to say, ‘I hope you enjoy them’.
Unbeknownst to you, the man himself, CEO of Genius Built, had caught that little gesture while reviewing the security feeds. He smiled back in spite of the fact that you had no idea it was reciprocated. It was becoming a bad habit of his, always checking the feeds on delivery days. Just to catch a glimpse of you.
You were always punctual, effective, and always delivered with a smile. Upon seeing you leave he was up out of his chair and heading for the elevator. The first thing he always did after you completed the delivery was take a sprig of lavender to slip into his suit jacket pocket.
He’d always enjoyed the slightly sweet, subtle fragrance of the aforementioned flower. It brought a sense of calm to his otherwise chaotic mess of a life. Running a company was not for the faint of heart, and he’d come to rely on this small bit of happiness, a splash of colour in the otherwise cold, grey environment of life. Maybe not the healthiest choice, but he convinced himself that the flowers also boosted his employees' morale and therefore were necessary.
After all, he reasoned with himself, he wasn’t hurting anyone; he just admired you from afar. For now, at least.
-----
To say you were surprised when you received an offer to provide the flower arrangements to the yearly gala at Genius Built was an understatement.
You were even more surprised when a robotic turtle-bot drone in sleek, shiny violet, cruised on into your store to deliver the message.
“Hello! I’m Shelldon! That’s S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.” it chirped happily in its robotic tone. “I have a message from Donatello Hamato at Genius Built!”
Despite being a robot, it looked kind of cute, like a dog eager to show something it had found. Stunned, you nodded, allowing the little robot to continue. “First, a proposal, Dad has requested your assistance in providing flower arrangements to this year’s gala! Do you accept?”
Before you could answer, a digital screen suddenly appeared, causing you to step back in surprise. It displayed a set of boxes with the options, ‘yes’ or ‘no’.
“Please choose one!” he happily requested.
Tentatively, you reached for the ‘yes’ option, the checkmark magically appearing. This technology was amazing. There was a chime of confirmation at your choice, and the screen disappeared back into Shelldon.
“Thank you! Dad wishes to express his appreciation for choosing yes.”
“Um,” you started, finally finding your voice and realizing wherever ‘Dad’ was, that he could hear you, “tell him that he’s very welcome. I’d be happy to.”
You’d done weddings before, but nothing on this scale. You welcomed the challenge, though, eager to demonstrate your skills for such a prestigious event. But Shelldon was not finished yet. In addition to this commission, there was an invitation for you to attend the gala as his special guest.
“One more thing, a message from Dad!”
Again, another digital screen appeared, this time showing the CEO himself. You weren’t sure whether it was live or a recording, but the message wasn't something you’d ever expect to receive.
“Greetings, in addition to providing the arrangements, please do me the honour of attending the gala as my guest. Your presence is appreciated but not mandatory. I would be more than happy to provide you with a dress of my own design. Do you accept?”
Your mouth was a permanent ‘O’ as you stood staring at the unmoving projection. You were trying to determine its veracity. The CEO was inviting you andoffering to make you a dress?!
That was...an intriguing development, to say the least, and your curiosity was definitely piqued. Who were you to say no to a custom gown by renowned fashion designer Donatello Hamato? Not you, though it was perhaps a bit unconventional. It’s not like you were famous—just a regular person working in a flower shop, not someone of significance.
“Um, yes or no, lady?” Shelldon looked a little awkward waiting for you to click the box of your choice.
Quickly, you marked ‘yes’ and apologized to the floating, little turtle-bot. “Sorry, sorry! Yes, I’d love to!”
With that, the little bot spat out an invitation like a VCR ejecting a tape and beamed as you took it.
“Oh, one last thing! I can scan you for your measurements, just cuts out the middleman, y’know? You good with that?”
Again, the technology never ceased to amaze you, and you nodded while the little robot instructed you to hold your arms out in a T-pose while also assuring you that it wouldn’t hurt a bit.
After the scan was complete, he gave a few happy flutters with his appendages, making you giggle. He was adorable, actually. Quite the eager little guy.
“Fantastic! Dad’ll be so pleased! Y’know, he talks about you all the time and—” Something made him pause suddenly, and you swore he blushed. “Welp! Gotta go!”
Overcome with a sudden urge to show some affection for the little guy, you carefully reached your hand towards his metal head to pet him. He purred, briefly leaning into the head scratches before heading back out the way he came, flying towards the Genius Built headquarters.
Blinking for half a second, you barked out a high-pitched laugh. If it weren’t for the actual gala invitation in your hand, you thought you might have hallucinated the whole thing.
But no, it was true, you were going to this gala in a month, and Mr. Donatello Hamato was making you a gown which was…totally not weird at all.
Trying not to overthink it, you were filled with trepidation and hope at the prospect of attending this life-changing event.
You stashed the invitation somewhere safe and giddily danced for a moment while you grabbed your notebook, excited to begin planning the flower arrangements for the event and even more excited to meet the mysterious man himself.
Donatello Hamato.
-----
Donnie was feeling quite pleased with himself. Besides, his ‘son’ nearly chattering out sensitive information that is. After praising the little bot for a job well done, he was sent off to oversee another job, leaving Donnie in peace once again
Seated in his large office chair behind a mahogany desk, complete with a stone-carved bust of himself and various desk ornaments accompanied by neat stacks of files and papers, he finally felt he could relax. He took a moment to lean back, closing his eyes in recognition of the hard part being over. He’d asked and she’d accepted. No need to worry any longer; he was finally able to rest.
It lasted all of two seconds, the moment of respite destroyed by none other than his obnoxious twin, Leonardo.
“Heeeere’s Leon!” he sang, bursting through the door as if he were some kind of king or dignitary announcing himself.
“So, it would seem,” Donnie said, a long-suffering sigh following his statement.
Leaning over his desk, Leon wasted no time in getting straight to the point. “So, tell me everything, she said yes, didn’t she?”
It was difficult for Donnie not to immediately roll his eyes. It had pained him greatly to have to ask his twin for help on this matter, and snark and sarcasm weren’t needed in this instance.
“If you must know—yes, the endeavour was successful. Her answer was in the affirmative.”
Leo’s expression brightened considerably at that, and he couldn’t help but clap his brother on the shoulder in a congratulatory manner.
“See?! I told you it would work; no girl can resist Shelldon. Now you got a hot date, and—”
“I offered to make her a dress.” He interjected with such finality that Leo’s expression dropped in shock.
“No, you didn’t! Don, I thought we agreed that was creepy,” he sighed dramatically, “and you were so close!”
Donnie straightened up considerably, a look of indignation on his face as he prepared to defend himself. “Oh, ye of little faith, I’ll have you know, I analyzed her facial expressions, and she looked flattered at the concept.”
“You analyzed her…jeez, Donnie, did you collect a blood sample and plant a tracking device on her too?”
“Scoff! Who do you think I am? Plenty of time for that kind of thing later.”
Leo cringed slightly with a mild look of concern as he sighed. “I don’t know if you’re being serious or not, and frankly, I don’t wanna but trust me when I say this with love. You gotta tone it down a bit, don’t chase her away with all your…you-ness. Dole that out…um, sparingly.”
Donnie looked as unimpressed as ever, replying in a deadpan manner. “Your concern is noted, Nardo. You really think so little of me that I’m going to have this woman tagged and catalogued like a specimen?”
A flicker of regret showed in Leo’s face as he tried to play it off. “Of course I don’t think that, but I know you, and you can be…a lot. That being said, if she doesn’t like you, for you, then she’s not the one.”
“Thanks, any other tidbits of brotherly advice?”
“Yeah, just one.” He fixed his twin with a smirk. “When in doubt, use your tongue.” With that, he traipsed out of the office like a celebrity. That was Leon, always with the showmanship.
Finally, peace. Donnie paused to consider his brother’s words. He admitted that his brother had a point, and Donnie had reached a stage in his adult life where he understood that his overall demeanour wasn’t exactly everyone’s cup of tea. Though he was unapologetically himself every day, he had learned to mask certain aspects of his personality, especially when interacting with his staff. It had only taken one instance of his sarcastic, deadpan attitude making a receptionist cry for him to realize he needed to check himself when interacting with people outside his immediate circle.
He was fully aware that he resided somewhere on the autism spectrum, but he knew it was no excuse for treating others unkindly. Although he would always be this way, he attempted to put his best foot forward and used his extensive knowledge of human behaviour to ‘woo’ as they put it, the lovely woman who worked in the flower shop.
*****
Four weeks flew by in no time, and by the time of the gala, you were a bundle of nervous energy. Moments of excitement mixed with flashes of doubt characterized your mood. You had your hair and makeup done at a salon, and now all that was left was the dress.
Would he hand-deliver it to you? Come to think of it, would he pick you up? The flower arrangements had already been delivered hours earlier, and you were in your apartment getting ready. Did he know where you lived? Before you could come up with further questions, there was a tap-tap-tap on your balcony door.
Bewildered, you went to see if some confused pigeon had lost its way and found the little turtle bot that originally gave you your invitation.
“Special delivery!” he chirped, gliding inside once you opened the door for him.
It was that moment when you noticed he had a tether attached to a rather large box. The gown! This must be it.
“Dad told me to tell you that the limo will be arriving in twenty minutes.”
“Thank you, Shelldon.” Carefully detaching the box with a smile, you giggled when he leaned his head in, expecting some scritches. You obliged, setting the box down first and smiling even more at his affectionate purrs.
“Gotta go, have fun, tell Dad I said hi!” he whizzed back out through the open door and was gone, leaving you to close it after him.
Returning to the box, you quickly unwrapped it before carrying it to your room, giddy as all heck to see what it looked like.
With the lid finally off, your first glimpse of the dress pulled a gasp from your lips. The bust was stunning, with satin fabric in a beautiful shade of lavender, adorned with embroidered flowers and beads. It featured a sweetheart neckline with thin straps, and he also included matching heels.
How did he know your shoe size?
You couldn’t think too deeply about that; you needed to pull the dress out to see the rest of it. Holding it in front of your full-length mirror, you could see it was styled like a princess-style, with the waist cinched and a floor-length skirt featuring the same floral overlay as the bust. It was a truly gorgeous gown, and you don’t think you’ve ever worn anything as fine as this.
With your strapless bra and sheer tights on, you carefully stepped into the dress and pulled it over. Donnie really did size it correctly, for it fit like a glove and zipped at the side, making it easy to dress yourself. The shoes fit perfectly, too, and you were pleased to see that the heels weren’t obnoxiously tall; they were a fair size and added about two inches to your height, making you feel tall and regal.
Clutch in hand with a matching shawl over your shoulders, you waited in the lobby for your ride. You assumed he would be waiting for you at the venue; someone as important as he would need to remain there, right?
You couldn’t be more mistaken. When the man himself stepped out of the limo, it almost took your breath away.
Yes, you’d seen him on the digital recording. Yes, mutants and Yokai were now a regular occurrence in the city. No, it still did not prepare you for seeing him in person for the first time. It was as if time had been slowed. Donatello Hamato, stepped out of the car like a film or TV star, carefully adjusting his cufflinks and smartly dressed in a charcoal grey three-piece suit, with a pocket square matching your dress. Completing his look was his signature mask, eyebrows drawn on just like in the pictures you’d seen of him.
Now filled with excitement, you pushed open the doors of your apartment building and smiled brightly as you approached. You saw his expression brighten, but only for a brief moment. It seemed as though he was trying to maintain his serious outward appearance for reasons you didn’t know. He still reached for your hand once you got close enough and brought it to his lips, carefully kissing the back of your hand like a gentleman.
“I see the dress fits.” He had already done a full once-over of you when you’d begun moving toward him and looked quite pleased with himself. “Perfectly, if I might add.”
“—Yes, thank you, it’s beautiful, if you could let me know how much I—"
“No thanks needed, it was a gift.” He interjected, then gently and opened the car door for you. “Please.”
Now it was you who felt like a movie star, getting into this luxurious car with him following behind you.
He was quiet during the first part of the ride, as were you, unsure how to spark some dialogue. Just when you thought perhaps there would be none, it was he, still looking straight ahead, who spoke first.
“The flowers, they’re from the orders.”
You took a moment to understand what he just said, trying to piece together his meaning.
“The overlay.” He added. “I was inspired.”
The dress! He was speaking of the lace overlay, and immediately, you looked down at yourself. Without looking at him, you heard a soft snort of amusement.
“Lilies, purple lisianthus, lavender roses, hydrangea, and lavender, English of course, Lavandula Angustifolia.”
“Do you have a favourite?” you found yourself asking, turning your gaze back toward him.
“Lavandula Intermedia.” He answered simply. “The hybrid between English and Spike varieties. Favourite scent, as well.”
Now that he mentioned it, you could detect a faint hint of the delicate blooms. Of course, there it was, a sprig pinned to his lapel. Though it was dried, presumably, it likely came from your flower arrangements. You dealt with hybrid versions of many plants, usually the most fragrant varieties for your arrangements.
“Mine is Bellis Perennis.” You offered, citing a scientific name of your own.
Without skipping a beat, he answered. “Daisies. Hardy, yet delicate, unassuming but beautiful. Good choice.”
“And versatile,” you added. “You find varieties in just about every colour, even purple.”
Again, you saw the faintest hint of a smile and enjoyed your tiny victory in making him react. “Speaking of flowers…” From behind himself, he produced a small plastic container and presented it to you. “To tie it all together.”
It was a corsage, beautifully arranged, and you couldn’t have done a better job yourself. It contained all of the flowers on your dress, with a splash of baby’s breath to add to its elegance. Wordlessly, he opened the box and asked for your wrist. With your consent, he slid the elastic band on you and admired his work.
“This is…gorgeous.” You breathed, admiring it yourself. “I make these, I don’t usually receive them.” A small lump formed in your throat as you swallowed. “Thank you.”
“I cultivated them myself…in case you couldn’t tell, botany is of particular interest to me.”
“Then we have that in common.” You noted, smiling at the warmth of his sweet gesture. A beat passed, and shyly, you added, “I also wanted to thank you for the invite, Donatello.”
“Donnie.” He answered quickly, then spoke more slowly to explain his one-word response. “Please, call me Donnie.”
“Sure, thank you, Donnie, I’m very happy to be here.”
He had no initial response to that, only more of a smile as he nodded, “It was my pleasure.”
Already, in the short drive to the venue, you’d figured out that he was not an effusive person, carefully keeping his emotions hidden, close to his chest.
You wondered about the real him, the one who didn’t hold back from expressing himself. This man was just as tight and controlled as the suit he was wearing, and you hoped this event wasn’t a one-off. You wanted to know him better, find out the inner workings of Donatello. You suspected this was a Shrek situation with layers upon layers to peel back from this individual, and you were up to the challenge.
Upon arrival he was quickly out of the car and holding the door faster than you could blink, like he was Mr. Fantastic or something.
Still, the way he gently took your hand to help you out of the limo made your heart skip a beat. Your eyes met for a brief moment before he straightened and offered his arm for you to take.
His bicep was warm on your hand as you felt him slightly stiffen on contact. Only for a moment before he began walking in with you. Was physical touch difficult for this man? Why would he insist on doing this then?
The venue was a bustling hive of activity with your flower arrangements beautifully on display. Finely dressed individuals were happily milling about, eating, sipping champagne and chatting in small groups. You’d always found it amusing how humans created little circles of conversation. Once inside, you felt your date stop, take a breath, and forge on determinedly as if mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of human attention, and it did come.
Guests at the event zeroed in on you both almost immediately. They were curious about you and seemed surprised to see him with a date. From the small interaction, you were able to glean the fact that this was not something Donatello did often; in fact, he was absent from the last event.
Interestingly, you noticed a change in his demeanour: though he was polite and answered questions in a timely manner, his responses were clipped and to the point, giving only as much information as he had to, then he backed off. Social anxiety? Perhaps, but you did feel the need to get him away from those people.
Then the questions turned to you, and you felt him tighten his grip on your arm a little, as if urging those people to show you respect. Most of the questions were innocent, like asking where you worked and how you met him. Proudly, you gestured to your arrangements, pointing out the signature flowers and offering business cards, before you noticed their glazed-over expressions and stopped. One woman in particular seemed very surprised—not just that Donatello attended with a date, but that he chose to bring you. Though she was polite, there was an underlying hint of criticism, implying that you were somehow beneath him. None of them made the move to take one of your cards. You felt your heart sink and wished you’d said nothing. Perhaps it was a major faux pas to offer those at events such as this.
Donnie grew rigid before speaking, addressing the group as a whole. “It would be prudent to take down her information, not only is she professional and her arrangements exceptional, but it is her personal touch that drew me to have her cater this gala. Genius Built demands nothing but the best, and that is exactly what she provides.”
Your face warmed as pride swelled within you. One by one, everyone moved to take one of your business cards. You looked at him for a moment, silently thanking him since you would have dwelled on your supposed mistake for most of the evening had it been left unresolved. He offered the smallest of nods in return. No one would disrespect you, not on his watch.
Politely making an excuse to leave, Donnie then led you elsewhere. You needed a drink after all and were quite happy to let him lead you over to the bar.
“What’ll it be?” To your surprise, the bartender was none other than his brother. Not too many turtles walking around New York after all. He was impeccably dressed in black, with matching pants and a button-down shirt, the cuffs rolled up to his elbows. A crisp, white apron was tied around his waist, accentuating it, and he grinned knowingly at you both.
Donnie remained unfazed, waiting for you to order first.
“Oh, um, just a sex on the beach, please.”
Shit, why did you order that, of all drinks?Honestly, you couldn’t identify many of the signature cocktails by name, and that was the first that came to mind.
He practically smirked, ignoring the glare from his brother while placing all of his attention on you. “Good choice, a sexy drink for a sexy lady, comin’ right up.”
“Leon…” Donnie’s jaw was clenching, his tone a careful warning to his brother to keep his antics to a minimum.
“Whaaat? I am just being honest, don’t tell me you’re so wrapped up in yourself you didn’t notice how stunning she looks.” He was teasing now, and you giggled softly. Clearly, his brother was very different, confident, expressive and clearly not afraid to poke fun at him.
Donnie was refusing to answer, and feeding into it was just what Leo wanted. “Our drinks, please, the usual for me.”
A moment later, he was sliding the drinks your way with careful precision, having both stop directly in front of both of you.
“Thank you, uh...” Shit, you were blanking on his name! How embarrassing…
With a dramatic bow, he took your hand and kissed it. “Oh, how rude of me, allow me to introduce myself. Leonardo, or just Leon, the better half of the Hamato twins and bartender extraordinaire.”
Blushing slightly, you introduced yourself. He was practically oozing charisma, but it was making you feel completely flustered.
Leon still hadn’t released your hand yet, patting it with his other. “Lovely to meet you, I wish you both a wonderful time.” Turning to his brother, he added one final nail in the coffin.
“Your lovely date here deserves to be treated like a lady.” Back to you, he added, “Come find me, Chiquita, if my brother here isn’t doing his part to give you a good time.” His tone was lilting and casual, but not without an ulterior motive, and for a moment, you could see rage simmering in Donnie’s expression. Why would his brother do this? Teasing him was one thing, but why rile him up at the party?
Regardless, it was certainly the final straw, as Donnie took his drink with an edge, glaring at his brother. “Aaaand we’re done here.”
Slipping your arm back through Donnie’s, you turned with him, fretting a little. Leon had angered him for reasons you couldn’t understand. Was the date going to be over now? Not so, he surprised you again by bringing you to a quieter part of this massive hall.
“I apologize for him. He should know better.”
Feeling relieved that he didn’t appear all that affected, you shook your head. “Oh, I’m fine, believe me, he was just saying it to get a rise out of you, brother stuff.”
Tentatively, he reached to stroke a piece of your hair, his expression unreadable, but the gesture was enough to have your breath catch in your throat.
“He should know better than to try to take...” His voice was pitched so low, you could barely hear him, but the sentiment was there, loud and clear. For a moment, he had you—trapped in his amber gaze, which made your heart race with anticipation.
He cleared his throat, just as quickly as it began; the moment was over as he turned back toward the crowd and extended his hand. “Come, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
You went with him as if under his spell, happy to mingle and chat with whoever crossed your path. When it came time to sample the exquisite cuisine tailored for such an event, you met another one of his brothers, the youngest, a ball of energy by the name of Michelangelo.
Mikey was standing behind the set of tables in his chef’s coat and hat with a bright smile on his face. His long black hair—wait…? yes, hair, was pulled back into a bun under a hairnet beneath his chef’s cap. He was positively beaming as you two approached.
“Oh-em-gee! It’s you!” he exclaimed upon seeing you. “I’m Mikey, and everything you see here was made by yours truly! Please, be my guest.”
He was so adorable and friendly, you couldn’t help but smile and introduce yourself while shaking his hand heartily.
“Um, what should I try first?” you asked, to which he sprang into action.
“Oh! Let me make you a plate!” he jumped up and bustled around, picking out favourites for you to try.
You giggled and saw he presented you with two plates: on one were Donnie’s obvious favourites, and on the other a variety of things. He waited in excitement for you to try one of the hors d’oeuvres, practically bouncing.
At trying one of the savoury bites, your eyes widened, the flavours exploding on your tongue as you nodded. “Mmm!” It was one of the tastiest things you’ve ever had.
Mikey looked so proud, brushing his knuckles over his chest with a grin. “That’s what I like to hear.”
“Thank you, Michael,” Donnie said, somewhat eager to be finished with this interaction and get back to spending time with you at the party.
“Yes, thank you!” you smiled, trying another thing on your plate. “So good!”
Mikey waved, a knowing smile on his face. “You two kids have fun now!”
You were still giggling as you walked away. “He seemed nice!”
Donnie offered a slight nod as the two of you found a table to enjoy your food.
“Yes, Michael is arguably the most sociable of us, with Leon as a close second…” He was quite meticulous in the way he carefully ate, only speaking once he was finished chewing and swallowing.
You ate normally, still mindful of your manners as you chatted with him. Still, you were curious about one thing. “What about…there’s four of you, right? Is he here too?”
“Oh yes, Raph insisted on being head of security; he’s right over there.”
Looking in that direction, you saw him standing by the door, looking every bit a security guard. Red bandana, black suit, and an earpiece. He was absolutely massive with his huge biceps straining against the fabric as he crossed his arms. You couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by him—something Donnie immediately picked up on.
“He’s a cinnamon roll,” he said simply. “Looks like he could kill you, but he’s actually a huge softy.”
“Really?” you commented, turning back to look at him. “He’s got that ‘don’t fuck with me’ shtick going on.”
“It’s a front. More than anything, Raph wants people to accept him and not be afraid of him due to his size.” Donnie explained. “But when he works security or does ninja work, he uses it to his advantage.”
You felt your heart soften toward the big guy, now seeing that he was truly a gentle giant. “I hope he finds that—his acceptance.”
“You might not believe it, but the big lug has a wonderful girlfriend, they’re happy, and working towards making their relationship public. The more non-human/human relationships there are, the better it is for all of us to live normal lives.” He took a sip of his Old Fashioned cocktail, his eyes focused elsewhere as he trailed off.
“Is that also what you want? A normal life? Acceptance?” You couldn’t help but wonder if all of them had similar goals.
“I care not for acceptance from the masses, only from those who matter.” He was looking at you again, his intense gaze boring into you, making your heart flutter.
“I agree.” You said softly, keeping your eyes on him until he looked away again, this time at the couples that had gathered on the dance floor.
A slow jazz arrangement was being played by a live band with people following the rhythm easily, wrapped in each other’s embrace.
“Would you care to dance?” he asked, surprising you again with the suddenness of his tone.
“I’d love to.” You sipped the last of your drink and stood, taking his hand and walking the short trek to the dance floor.
Throughout the evening, you’d come to realize that this…this entire event was likely extremely taxing for Donnie. His social battery was probably almost completely drained, yet he was still trying…for you. His priority was making sure you were having a good time, but as he gently guided you into position and placed his hand lightly on the small of your back, bringing you close, maybe, just maybe, it was all worth it.
With his hand in yours, you began to gently sway together to the music, and with your face turned up to look at his, you could see he was entirely focused on you.
Then, he took the lead in what you realized was a type of waltz, gliding along the dance floor with you in his arms and carefully planning his steps while keeping in rhythm with the music.
You’d never waltzed in your life and did your best to follow along while silently praying you didn’t step on his feet. At one point, you weren’t even looking at him; your focus was down, trying to keep yourself in check.
“Eyes on me.” He said, adjusting his hold just slightly to draw you a bit closer to him. “Follow my lead, it is more effective to let your body relax and move along with mine. You can do this.”
With renewed confidence, you took a deep breath while nodding. “I’ll try.”
He was correct in his assessment, and with guidance, you were gliding along with him in no time at all, unbothered and unafraid of a misstep that might result in embarrassment. Your heart soared with a newfound kind of hope, losing yourself in the dance and in his deep, golden eyes.
The music became slower, couples dropping out of their waltzes and seeking dances of a closer nature. Donnie, too, responded by slowing his steps.
It was now that you felt confident enough to make your move. Stepping closer, enough to press your chest against his, you felt him stiffen, his breath catching before adjusting his grip to hold you closer.
You were able to slip your arms under his and rest your hands on the back of his shoulders. When you were sure he was okay with this, you carefully rested your head against his shoulder and moved with him.
This was softer, more intimate, and it felt…right being this close to him. You could feel one of his three-fingered hands sliding up the bodice of your dress and settling against your bare skin. His touch was electric, sending small jolts of need straight to your lower body.
After about a minute of this sweet embrace, he felt bold enough to place his snoot in your hair. His chest expanded in a way that told you he was breathing you in, and a quiet, barely-there rumble had you thinking he was enjoying this. It was almost as if it was just the two of you alone in the room, wrapped in each other’s embrace.
Maybe it was the atmosphere, the close proximity of your bodies or the few glasses of champagne you’d had, but you very much wanted to kiss him. When you tilted your head to look up at him, he had the same intense look as when his brother had made him jealous. It was giving you a thrill, a confidence you did not know you possessed as you gradually brought your face closer to his.
He didn’t look away, nor did he pull back; if anything, he leaned toward you, his intentions seeming to match yours. You were full of intrigue, wondering whether he would actually do it. The thought of his lips pressed against yours had your heart racing, and you drew closer just as he slipped his hand to cup the back of your head. His expression, again, was unreadable, but the look in his eyes said everything.
You were moments away from kissing him when someone tapped his shoulder. He turned with a tsk in his voice, and a quick flash of annoyance at whoever so rudely interrupted him. It faded immediately when he saw that it was his eldest brother, Raph. He couldn’t be mad at him.
“Uh, I’m sorry, it’s time for the speeches.”
He nodded, muttering about how it was that time already, and apologized to you, asking if you could wait with his brother while he addressed the room.
“I’ll be fine, go do what you need to do.” You said, softly. You stepped back from his embrace, your body missing his warmth immediately.
Resigned to his responsibilities, Donnie took the stage to deliver his speech. All the time, his brother never left your side, offering a quiet sort of comfort and protection. He was friendly too, and very kind. You could see why he had a girlfriend. Perhaps you could have something similar in the person currently on stage, battling social anxiety and his need to be back beside you.
At the end of his speech, Donnie thanked the guests, his brothers, and you, proclaiming that you were every bit as lovely as the flowers you’d provided and then thanking you for agreeing to be his date. You were sure he could see the way your cheeks turned pink from his spot on the stage.
Once all the formalities were complete and the hour grew late, the night ended, and it was time to take you home. He was unusually quiet as he led you to the limo, almost making you wonder if something was bothering him. But no, as the driver slowly merged onto the street, his hand found yours, fingers intertwined in silent reassurance.
That sealed it, you were going to do something you’d never done in your life—you only hoped it didn’t blow up in your face.
As the car came to a stop, he took his hand from yours, suddenly becoming all stiff while attempting a polite goodbye.
“Thank you for your accompaniment tonight. It was…quite enjoyable.”
“I had a wonderful time.” You smiled sweetly, trying to work up the courage.
“Yes, well, I won’t keep you. Please get inside safely, and we will wait until you do.” He was being overly formal and too polite, which wouldn’t do at all.
“I think I may need some assistance.” You said suddenly, glancing toward the door.
His confusion was evident. “Surely you are capable of buzzing yourself in, unless you’ve misplaced your key, and I know that you have not.”
“Yes, but…I believe I might require some company.”
For a man who claimed to be a genius, he really was quite clueless when it came to hints such as these. “…you require company in unlocking the door to your apartment?”
Okay, time to be completely transparent and hit him over the head with it. “Donnie, I’m asking you up to my apartment, check the box, yes, or no.” You literally drew a few squares in the air with a checkmark and an ‘x’ to drive your point home.
Donnie was stunned, incredibly so, with his mouth slightly open and his breath coming in quick, shallow pants. Oh, shit, you were already regretting this. Based on your observations, he was freaking out and probably going to refuse your invitation, and you’d never be able to face him again.
He was taking too long to answer, and you just felt the need to run. Escape seemed like a better option than facing rejection, and you were mumbling apologies while moving to open the door for yourself.
“Yes.”
Did you hear him correctly? Turning, you saw him making a checkmark in the air with one of those ridiculously long fingers of his.
“Yes?” You needed to be sure.
“Yes. I’d be happy to accept your invitation.” He sounded very sure of his decision despite having looked like he was experiencing the blue screen of death earlier.
You flushed as you finally opened the door. “O-okay, um, please.” You stepped out and watched him thank the driver before joining you.
You fumbled with your keys, dropping them as you went to unlock the door to the lobby.
Keep it together, you wanted this, remember?
“Allow me.” The keys were retrieved, and the correct one was slipped into the lock, granting you both entry to your building. It was a short journey to your apartment, and again, he used your key to unlock that door, too.
Now it was real: you were both finally alone in a private space, and since you were woefully inexperienced at taking men home for one-night stands, you did not know how to proceed.
“Um…let me just…I’ll get you a drink.” Awkwardly, you hung your shawl and your purse on the hooks by your front door and took a step toward the kitchen.
Or, at least, you tried. Your strappy heels and the fact that you had been on your feet for hours were not your friend. You began to pitch forward, well on your way to falling, while you cried out in surprise. Impact was imminent, or so you thought.
A large hand shot out and caught your waist. In an instant, you were pressed against something solid and unyielding, with your head cradled in his other hand, and his concerned expression fixed on you.
“Are you alright?”
Those were some quick reflexes, you noted while your face burned with embarrassment. “Y-yes, thank you.” Again, those eyes, such an intense shade of brownish gold, were fixed right on you, and your heart leapt into your throat, unable to speak for a moment, so he did.
“You need not trouble yourself with refreshments; we both know the real reason as to why you invited me up here.”
If possible, your body temperature climbed a few degrees more, and you couldn’t help but nod. “How do you feel about that?”
“It’s…honestly more than I was expecting, or could’ve hoped to have.” He admitted, gently sliding his knuckle along the curve of your cheek. “But if you’re willing, then so am I.” His voice dropped to a husk as his thumb gently tilted your chin up.
Holy shit, this is it. With a trembling breath on his part, he pressed his mouth to yours with such gentleness at first, barely a brush, but with some careful encouragement, he added a bit more pressure, sealing his lips firmly on yours.
A tiny moan managed to force its way out, and his grip on you tightened slightly. It seemed your sounds of enjoyment were all the encouragement he needed to continue, and deepening the kiss was next on his list for causing your knees to buckle.
A fire was building. Your lips fused with his, and it was so intense that you clung to him when he pulled away. It seemed as if he was processing how much he enjoyed that, his tongue darting out briefly to taste the lingering hint of you. Then the mood shifted suddenly as he stepped back, carefully steadying you on your feet before clearing his throat.
“Do you truly wish to engage in sexual intercourse with me? I require your verbal consent.” He was completely serious, and you found yourself at a loss on how to answer him at first. Did you want to? Well, yes, you’d just never had a man pose the question in quite this way.
But Donatello was not just any man. He was different, both in physical appearance and in his mannerisms.
As the seconds ticked by, he waited patiently, though he appeared slightly unsure of himself, hoping the answer would be in the affirmative. There was no need for him to say anything further to convince you; either you wanted to, or you didn’t.
“Yes. I do want to.” You drew a checkmark in the air to bolster your response and saw that it pleased him.
He seemed to relax a bit; a barely audible breath of relief was the only thing that told you he was glad he’d asked.
“Thank you.” He said in response. “I must add that in addition to this, if you decide at any time that you wish to terminate the agreement, I shall understand and leave immediately.”
“I appreciate that.” You smiled in amusement. “Anything else I should know before we begin?”
“Yes, I feel I must warn you, as a mutant turtle, my anatomy is quite different than that of a human male’s, mainly my outward appearance when aroused. You may note the lack of external testicles and the addition of a cloaca to which my…phallus will emerge from. Is this acceptable?” The way he spoke, with little to no expression, told you he’d had this conversation before and wanted no surprises.
Now you were immediately intrigued, wondering just how different his dick would look. “Yes, it’s acceptable.”
“Would you like to see it?” He was almost reading your mind at this point, and a nervous laugh escaped you as you wondered if he planned to go about this. Was he about to drop his pants here and now, or pull up a photo of his dick on his phone? He continued by unbuttoning his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeve to reveal a tech device strapped to his wrist. “I find it is best to be prepared, for your comfort and mine.”
“I, uh, yes, I’m very curious,” you admitted, watching him tap something onto the band and gasping as he pulled up a 3D model. It was exactly as he described… his manhood, and it was definitely not human.
He kept it up as long as you needed to get a good look at it. If it was true to size, then it was definitely the largest you’d ever had, large but not impossible with some time and patience. The appearance of his cock had you incredibly intrigued. You could see it extended from a slit, his cloaca as described, and the shaft was thicker at the base, tapering to a unique tip with about five fleshy protrusions flaring out from the glans. Could he move those? You couldn’t wait to find out.
“Do you have any questions?” he was prepared to wait for you to be ready, so easily that it was endearing to say the least. Casually asking as though he didn’t have a 3D model of his own dick on display.
“Can…the…tips move?” you asked. “Is this model true to size?”
“Yes, and yes,” he answered honestly, a small bit of pride in his tone, pleased you were so curious about it.
“Okay, well, that was enlightening, thank you.” He sent the model back to his device while telling you that you were welcome to direct any further inquiries to him.
You had a million other questions, but knew most would be answered as things progressed, so instead you asked the most pressing one of all.
“Do you see this continuing beyond this night?” Now, you could handle weird anatomy, behaviours related to his turtle nature, and the fact that he was a big shot CEO, but the thought of this being the only encounter you’d ever have with him left you feeling empty, and you suddenly couldn’t bear a one-off where you’d never see him again.
“I do indeed.” He answered, without pausing. “I would not have proposed this otherwise…” He paused, moving to cradle the back of your head again before continuing, “I had thought this encounter would have taken place at a later date, but if you are willing, then so am I—very willing.”
That right there sent a jolt of desire straight to your core. “Me too.” Feeling more confident, you slid your hands from his chest to his shoulders underneath his suit jacket. “May I?”
“You may.”
Both of you kept your gaze as the thousand-dollar suit jacket hit the floor, and Donnie stepped forward into your space to gather you close again.
“I should like to divest you of your gown, as stunning as you look, I feel the garment may be a bit too restrictive…”
“You may.” You were practically buzzing with excitement, and slipped your arms around his neck as he slowly drew the zipper down, keeping a hand on your side.
The dress fell to the floor with a soft thud, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments—a delicate pair of underwear and your strapless bra. You still had tights on as well, and he just stared, his expression flat and calculating.
Nervous at suddenly being so exposed, you teased him in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Don’t like what you see?”
“On the contrary, I find you very aesthetically pleasing. Particularly here.” One of his hands drew its way up your thighs, squeezing the fullness gently.
Your voice came breathless and belaying your need to have him tell you more as you replied, “A thigh man, I see…”
Without warning, you were swept completely off your feet, strappy heels still on, but now he could reach the delicate clasps on them, and they too went clattering to the floor to join your dress and his suit jacket.
“Actually, I find all aspects of you to be quite…alluring. You are a very beautiful woman, and I look forward to seeing what makes you tick.”
With a declaration like that making you blush, he carried you off to your bedroom. It was no mystery to him, since he’d already known the layout of your apartment. Donnie was efficient like that; there was no point in wasting time when there was a woman to romance.
You were laid ever-so-gently on the bed as if you were a type of priceless artifact or gem just waiting to be examined. From there, he methodically began unbuttoning his shirt and removing his pants. Stepping out of those, he was left in his mask and a pair of tight, black boxer briefs.
Looking at him, you found the dark marks across his mask to be somehow adorable. They accentuated his brow ridges, giving the appearance of eyebrows when clearly it would be impossible for him to grow a pair of his own.
“The mask stays on?” you questioned, already knowing the answer.
“The mask stays on.” He confirmed, placing a knee on the bed and crawling over you.
His tight boxer briefs were absolutely sinful, leaving nothing to the imagination. If he was aroused, you couldn’t tell yet, but in the low light, his sharp features were even more pronounced, his expression calm, but intense.
You drew a trembling breath as he settled himself over you, a comforting weight, distributed carefully as not to crush you. Placing a hand on your face, he rubbed the pad of his thumb along your cheek. He must have sensed your nervousness, for when he next spoke, it was soft and gentle. “My dear, again, you can tell me no at any time. I mean for this to be a deeply pleasurable experience for both of us. Let me show you.”
All you could do was nod, exhaling shakily when he ran a hand along your chest, smoothing it across your skin. Warmth erupted in your belly as he travelled further, finding your erogenous zones like he was finding weak spots in a circuit board. Your breasts were of particular interest to him, and with your consent, your bra was tossed away, discarded quickly after undoing the clasp.
“Perfection.” He breathed, testing the weight of them in his hands and brushing the quickly hardening peaks with his thumbs.
You sucked in a breath and bit back a moan that was quickly swallowed by the sudden kiss he bestowed. Passions were igniting, like two chemical compounds coming together to create something new, so were the two of you, and he was nowhere near finished with you yet.
Your own hands were clinging to his shoulders while your tongues were engaged in a battle for dominance. Finally, he broke away, but only to give you air and to place his mouth elsewhere. First, the valley between your breasts and then the nipple itself, sending you arching off the mattress slightly.
This was a favourable reaction, for he smiled against your skin, drawing out the sensation with his teasing tongue a few moments more before switching to the other breast. His mouth was on a journey, traversing your soft skin, travelling lower and causing your breath to catch as he reached the band of your tights.
“Your scent is intoxicating…I need to go directly to the source…with your permission, that is.” His voice had dropped, thick and with so much want for you, it was impossible to deny him.
“Yes…” You lifted your hips for him to remove whatever was left, your tights and underwear being dropped to the floor along with everything else. Slick had already been gathering between your legs, and when he spread your thighs to open you to him, he practically growled.
“You… are absolute perfection…” He looked just about ready to devour you, and you were not about to tell him no.
The speed and enthusiasm in which he dove between your legs had you arched up and gasping. His tongue was hot and searching, tracing a path from your opening right up to your clit and pausing there, licking and sucking gently while you fisted the sheets in your hands.
This time, you openly groaned, chanting ‘yes’ softly as you spread your trembling legs wider for him. He seemed intent on drowning himself in you, your scent, your soft thighs, everything, and he was completely intent on showing you just how well he could use that silver tongue of his.
“Fuck!” You cried when his teeth grazed your most sensitive area, and he hummed. This time, your thighs went for an involuntary squeeze over his head, and his hands were quick to apply gentle pressure, holding you open to him. The vibrations conjured up from deep in his throat brought an added layer of pleasure to his already relentless tongue.
The rumbling grew louder, and you practically jolted when he thrust his long tongue deep inside you. The length of it was enough to reach a certain textured patch, the one most men have ceased to do anything with. His thumb still worked, rubbing your clit in circular motions, pushing you closer and closer to the precipice of release.
Your breath came in soft, shallow pants. Squirming and giving him a soft cry, you gasped out, “Close! Donnie! I’m…!”
He withdrew, grinning salaciously over the soft expanse of your belly while his ministrations continued. “I want to hear you scream for me.”
This simple, nearly emotionless command was accompanied by him diving back into your center, his tongue once again resuming its persistent dance upon your clit.
Your body jerked, you with an open-mouthed scream, arched your back and cried out wantonly from the rush of pleasure overtaking your body.
Unlike most men you’d been with, who barely went beyond a few licks just enough to get you wet so they could get what they wanted, Donnie lingered, drawing out every last ounce of dopamine and oxytocin your body had to give.
“Orgasm…la petite mort, or the little death. Still with me?” He said, gently rubbing your thighs, soothing the areas where he gripped you tightly just moments ago.
You were still catching your breath, body still shuddering with post-orgasm aftershocks, when you realized he was saying something to you. The experience had been so intense that your brain needed a moment to log back in.
“Yes…that was…holy shit…no one has ever gotten me off like that.” You tried propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him and saw he had quite the self-satisfied grin upon his face.
“That would be because you’ve never had anyone like me before.” He’d cleaned the evidence of your release from his lips and moved up next to you while speaking. “I can guarantee with much certainty that all of your previous encounters will pale in comparison to this one.”
Cocky bastard, you thought with amusement as you settled back into his arms. “You seem very sure of yourself.”
He chuckled deeply, his hand brushing over your breast and giving your nipple a light pinch. There was something darker in his gaze this time, and it brought a fluttering thrill deep in your core. “If you need to be convinced further of my sexual prowess, I would be happy to draw two or more orgasms from you. As many as it takes until you lose the ability to think with nothing but my name upon your lips, begging for me to fuck you.”
If possible, you were even wetter from that statement, holy shit. “Okay…point made…” There were no further arguments from you as he bent, kissing you slowly. You felt him shift a little and realized he was finally removing his last piece of clothing, the stiffness against your thighs evidence of his own arousal.
This, you needed to see and broke the kiss just as he was kicking away his underwear. You had been grateful that he prepared you for it, but it was still one of the most remarkable things you’ve ever seen. Emerging from his slit, his cock was a deep violet fading into a softer rose at the tip of his shaft. The fleshy protrusions you saw in the diagram could indeed move on their own, and you saw them twitch a little involuntarily. How would that feel inside, hitting the deepest, most intimate part of you? You needed to find out. Impatiently, you moved your hips, hoping to entice him into entering you sooner.
Donnie, though, refused to be hurried. After you got a good look at what he had to offer you, he was kissing you again with a soft growl of satisfaction. He liked that the sight of him had pleased you and not had the opposite effect. If anything, it made you all the more excited to have him.
“Please…” You breathed when he finally broke free from your mouth.
“Please, what?” He husked, hiking up your legs and slipping them over his shoulders.
Your face burned since you were not the type to say things such as these, but as you felt the unique head of his cock pressing against your opening and going no further, you would’ve said anything to have him breach your entrance.
“Please fuck me, Donatello…I need you.”
He groaned, some of that carefully controlled demeanour slipping as you felt the fleshy bits contract just enough for him to slip inside. “Relax for me…” he growled.
Another gasp was pulled from your throat as you’d tensed up slightly from the size of him. At his request, though, you took a deep breath, relaxing your inner muscles to the point where he could go further, those protrusions flaring out delightfully once he was a few inches in.
“Perfection…” He groaned, shuddering a little as he filled you completely.
Your knees were resting on his shoulders as he sat back on his thighs, lifting your hips to meet his while giving you some time to get used to him.
“Donnie…” you moaned, “You feel…infuckingcredible…”
He huffed out a laugh, pulling out just a little to thrust back inside. “I appreciate the compliment, but…I’ve barely begun. Please reserve your words of delight until after I’ve made you cum on my cock…repeatedly.”
His final word was punctuated with another thrust, this time deeper, followed by another, his hands gripping your hips to turn those errant movements into a steady rhythm, perfectly tailored to your body’s needs. Knowing your shoe size and how to navigate your apartment was one thing, but shifting that knowledge into a more intimate understanding—knowing exactly what it took to make you scream—was a feat no other man had ever been able to achieve.
Donatello Hamato was about to wreck you for any further partners, and you were not about to stop him.
Your moans, the uncontrollable soft sounds of pleasure that he drew out of you with every thrust, seemed to bolster his resolve. He revelled in the way you reached for him, needing him closer, wanting his lips on yours.
“Harder…” You gasped, watching him bend your legs into you more, just enough for his face to be brought down to yours, capturing your lips in a series of feverish kisses while his hips snapped into yours harder and faster than before.
Your second orgasm had been steadily growing like a small flame, but now, with Donnie’s hips snapping into you, it had become a wildfire, threatening to overtake you by surprise. Suddenly, you were gasping, eyes wide, as your whole body shuddered with release, and your cries were ragged as you brokenly cried out, “No, not yet!”
His pace never faltered, fucking you with ease while you fell apart beneath him. You weren’t ready for it to be over just yet, but when you finally came down from the high, you quickly came to realize he was still hard. He hadn’t finished, far from it in fact, as he was still on task, his expression darker than before as he gave you one more particularly hard thrust and stopped.
“Turn.” His tone made your skin prickle, low and with the subtle warning that this command must be obeyed. You did as he asked, turning on your side and waiting with bated breath.
From behind you, he was repositioning himself and lifting up one of your thighs to slide back into you. His length was such that this was an easy task for him, and this new position brought an entirely new set of sensations.
“You will cum for me one more time. We aren’t finished here yet.”
You didn’t know how, nor could you even question his ability to keep going; all you could manage was a whimpering moan as he began to move. With your upper leg raised, he ground his hips against your rear, increasing his pace to what it had been prior to this change in position. This was the endgame, and you were trembling all over with your third orgasm on the rise.
He was speaking again, whispering filthy praise as his hand slid between your legs to play with your oversensitive center.
“So fucking sweet, taking my cock so well…I knew you’d be the one…”
A strangled cry was your response, your thighs shaking as your inner walls were clamping down on him once more.
“I can feel you…you’re close.” The rough pad of his thumb was unrelenting, and he was fucking you harder while you hooked your leg on his. All that could be heard was the slap of his skin against yours, accompanied by your cries of pleasure and the deep grunts of effort from him. “Let…go…for…me.”
It was inevitable, your breath quickening as your body tensed before you were overcome once again with an overwhelming amount of pleasure. This time, you practically screamed his name, and he groaned from behind you, dipping his face into your neck with a few more uneven thrusts.
You knew the moment he came, filling you with his warmth as the tip of his cock kissed your cervix for the final time. He was panting softly behind you, his hot breath on your neck as he seemed hesitant to move for a minute. Your heart was pounding as you also needed to catch your breath.
“Did you…find that experience to be satisfactory?” he murmured, finally lifting his head while you turned to meet his gaze.
“That was…more than satisfactory…I can’t even find the words…” You huffed out a soft laugh. “I think you’ve ruined me.”
“Ruined you?” He looked slightly amused as he carefully removed himself from you so that you might turn properly so he could hold you in his arms. “As in…for all future men, I’m assuming?”
“Yes,” you laughed, your cheeks pink. “None will compare.”
He paused in his response, caught in a moment of quiet reflection before kissing you softly. “No, they won’t because there will be no others,” he said softly, cupping your cheek. “Because unless I’m wrong, and I’m never wrong…you won’t wish to be with any of them.”
It was not just the tone of finality he used and his intense, yet soft gaze; it was how he failed to hide some of his vulnerability in the way he spoke. It wasn’t just about the sex; he genuinely wanted to be with you.
Sucking in a soft breath, you lowered your voice just slightly, “Just with you?”
“If you’ll have me.” He kissed the inside of your wrist and held you in that tenderness for a brief moment. “You are more than an adequate mate. I feel as though I’ve always known that it would be you.”
Your head was spinning with the onslaught of information. Did you feel the same? This was moving faster than you’d previously thought. Perhaps this man did not want to waste time on these things, and based on what you knew of him, efficiency was the best course of action when it came to doing things such as ‘finding a mate’.
You couldn’t help but think back to the gala. The sideways glances—those who were wondering what you were doing there with him. Was there really a place for you in his world of finery and upper-class status?
“I…if you're sure you’ll have me. I’m just a flower shop girl, no one noteworthy, just a person trying to keep a small business afloat. You deal in million-dollar deals…I deal in…plants.” You sighed, wondering where this unhealthy dose of self-deprecation came from. That wasn’t attractive. Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut? This is what you wanted!
Donatello tsked, quietly conveying his disapproval of you being so unkind to yourself before speaking. “Have I not made myself clear in my intentions?” He asked you pointedly while rubbing your shoulder with his thumb. “I can assure you that no decision tonight was made lightly. I know what I want, and it is unapologetically and irrevocably…you.”
A small, but hopeful smile spread from one corner of your mouth to the other. Still, you felt the need to ask, “Why me?
“Because, whether you realize it or not, you are remarkable in all ways. Strength, kindness, tenacity—you possess all of these qualities and more. Fighting when the odds are low and persevering when faced with adversity—I admire you for it.” He paused, pressing his forehead to yours as he continued. “In the chaos of my life, you are the rain that washes away my stress—you are a grounding force, a reminder for me to breathe and take things as they are. You are the calming sprig of Lavender I tuck into my suit pocket every day, need I go on?”
You shook your head, tears gathering in your eyes as you smiled more. “I think you’ve made your point.” You wavered, your throat thick with emotion.
He chuckled softly, brushing away tears before kissing you softly. “Please, do not ever doubt yourself again. Your worthiness is not measured by your current status in the corporate world or life itself. You are worthy in my eyes, and that is all that matters.”
With a soft sob, you wrapped your arms around him, pressing yourself as close as you could to convey your appreciation for him. He held you just as tightly, whispering all of the ways he was going to please you just as soon as you’d had some time to recover.
You got very little sleep that night.
*****
In the days, weeks, and months that followed, true to his word, Donatello was quick to establish the relationship between you both, nurturing the tiny sprout of connection with phone calls, texts, and actual dates. He’d also taken to having you go up to his office to sign the order slips for the flower deliveries. It was a shameless display of leverage to have you all to himself in his soundproofed office. He’d bolt the door, hold all calls and take full advantage of your presence, usually by bending you over on that smooth mahogany desk of his. That desk wasn’t just meant to sit there and look pretty, and neither were you.
He didn't care at all about what others thought, even when the tabloids started appearing, portraying you in quite an unflattering way. Mysteriously, all copies of those magazines vanished overnight, and no new issues ever showed up again. You couldn’t prove it, but you knew he had something to do with that. He even released a statement addressing the rumours that had begun to spin out of control. Donatello Hamato was officially off the market, and he demanded his privacy on the matter.
Finally, you were able to see his true self emerge, and he was…slightly unhinged, as you expected. At the risk of sounding ‘crazy’, he did ask for your consent to place a tracking device on you—not a subcutaneous one yet, but a highly advanced version of an AirTag. You did agree to it, and after learning all the history with his brothers and enemies that still existed, you would consent to the subcutaneous one in the future. He introduced you to his world, his family, and gave you exclusive access to his most personal areas, including his lab in their old home. You attended events and press conferences where his brothers served as your own personal bodyguards. You’d gotten to know them better, too, and Leonardo had personally apologized for his callous remark at the gala. You’d suspected he was a bit jealous of his brother, stemming from being the only one without a partner. You’d forgiven him and were now besties with all of them. You’d also met Mikey and Raph’s girlfriends as well.
Throughout all of this, you thought that maybe all this attention might boost your sales and generate more revenue. Sales were down, and you were in your lowest-income month since opening day, struggling to make ends meet. It had gotten so bad that you were in danger of not being able to afford your rent payment. You’d refrained from revealing this information to Donnie. It was not his problem to solve, and he was likely aware of the situation regardless. Instead of offering you a way out, he’d suggested dinner with your parents. It was the next likely step in your relationship, and you’d hesitated to agree. Your reluctance had nothing to do with him; your parents were well-educated and ‘picky’ about certain aspects regarding your life choices. He assured you that everything would proceed as expected and that you need not worry.
Admittedly, you were concerned that your parents might not accept your choice of partner, but they ended up quite pleased. Donnie had reserved a spot at one of the most exclusive restaurants in NYC, a rotating dome atop a skyscraper, offering a breathtaking view. His influence and reach were remarkable, and he behaved like a perfect gentleman, introducing himself to your parents and guiding everyone to the table.
Dinner conversation weaved between questions of his success, to how you both met, and wound down to the topic you’d been dreading—your business.
“So, how is the shop faring?” Your mother asked airily while sipping her wine. You knew better than to take her at face value at this point, as she was clearly fishing for a reason to criticize your business decisions, but despite that, you thought it best to be somewhat honest with her. Something about Donnie being there had bolstered your confidence on the matter.
“Business is…low at the moment, could be better, but wedding season is nearly here and—”
“Oh, my poor girl!” She sighed in quite a dramatic fashion. “You don’t need to be so modest. I know the shop is struggling! It was a lofty dream to open a flower shop in one of the most prodigious areas in the city after all.”
God, she was infuriating. You cast a quick glance at Donnie, but he remained impassive, and instead, you prepared to defend yourself. “I’ll be fine,” you said evenly. “I always manage to make it through.”
“So you say, I think you should be counting yourself lucky that you caught the eye of this one. You don’t have to worry anymore.” She casually gestured at Donnie, who still held a neutral expression but had raised one of his drawn-on eyebrows at her comment.
“And what do you mean by that, Mother?” Oh, this situation was deteriorating, and you tried your best to keep calm and collected as you challenged her.
She huffed softly, “When your business inevitably fails, he can bail you out or give you a job. It’s perfect.”
That was the last straw, curse her! You were two seconds from getting up from the table and leaving when you felt Donnie’s hand clamp down gently on your shoulder. Then he was addressing your mother directly.
“I won’t be.” He said calmly, catching her shocked gaze, “giving her a job, that is.” Your mother was sputtering then, accusing him of letting you fall, when again he silenced her by speaking. “Her business is not going to fail, not because I can ‘bail her out’ as you so eloquently put it, but because I will be providing her with the tools to succeed.” His tone left no room for argument as he went on to explain all the ways he would strengthen your shop, business plans, advertising, and catering events. You would be the one to save your business, not him, and for the first time ever, you felt seen. Your ideas, thoughts, goals and aspirations mattered, and your successes and achievements were going to be your own. This shop was important to you and, therefore, important to him.
Your parents were stunned into silence, then quietly apologized for their rudeness. You accepted, and the evening was salvaged incredibly. Donnie had unknowingly put in place the first few stitches in repairing your relationship with your parents, and you could not thank him enough for coming to your defence.
At the end of the night, goodbyes were exchanged, and the two of you headed back to his apartment, where things quickly became heated once again. This time, in the aftermath, you shared the one thing you had been meaning to tell him for a while.
“I love you.”
Without missing a beat, his expression became tender as he replied, “I love you too.”
“Thank you.”
“No thanks needed, it was a gift.” He said softly, gently caressing your hair. He’d said the same thing when you thanked him for the dress all those months ago. “You deserve everything, and more.”
You kissed him softly, savouring it before pulling back. “You have everything I have to offer. My whole heart belongs to you.”
“I shall hold it carefully.” He promised, “For it too, is a gift, as are you.”
Even while being present for such a heartwarming moment, you still sometimes had to convince yourself that this was not, in fact, a dream. It was unbelievable, almost like a fairy tale. He, the closed-off, impassive big-time CEO, found you, the sunny, bright, humble woman working in the flower shop. Although you were the unknown variable in this equation, together, you made the perfect solution—the answer to all of life’s difficulties.
There would still be challenges, of course—questions to be answered and matters to discuss—but for now, they were content to lie in each other’s arms, dreaming of what the future might hold. You had a feeling it would be as bright and sunny as the flowers you arranged every day.
The End
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