Handyman

Author's notes: Not one of my shockers- just some good old fashioned Donnie love. A little vanilla even for my taste, and I'm still a little uncomfortable writing erotica (was that erotic or just crude?), but better to try an add some more lovin' to the fandom, then not try at all.

Handyman


This was not what he had in mind.

Change the fan belt on her Caravan, install a few firewalls on her laptop, maybe change a lightbulb or two, then spend a sizable amount of time in the bedroom making up. When Donatello offered his services for a day as an attempt to smooth things over with Jessie, he didn't expect to be taken for all he's worth.

Then again, if Mike could just keep his beak shut, Don wouldn't be in such a predicament.

Stuck beneath the mammoth of a vehicle for what looked to be hours -changing the belt, the spark plugs, the CV joints, and calibrating the pulleys- he allowed his mind to consider, once again, whether or not he deserved such treatment.

He and Jessie had been intimate for three months now. Never once, had she asked him not to discuss their sex life with other people. She knew that he and his brothers were very close. She should have assumed that the subject would eventually come up. As the first of his family to have a sexual relationship (though he was quite unsure about his sensei's past sex life and had no desire to inquire), it was his obligation to inform his brothers of the differences between their discreetly viewed pornography and the real thing. The fact that she screams much more and much louder than the actresses. The fact that females do indeed ejaculate, and in Jessie's case, in copious amounts. He told them in detail of the noises that had never appeared in the risque films, some guttural and some high pitched. He assured his brothers that even though these sounds are almost alarming, they are still affirmations of pleasure. He even elaborated, describing one of his favorite -and curious- vocalizations; she would be stuck somewhere in a highpitched moan that, with the rhythm of their activities, was jarred and broken, like speaking through a fan. Although not quite the same, it did remind him of the churring sound he sometimes gave when extremely aroused. He absolutely loved it.

She didn't love hearing about it. From Mike. In a vivid reenactment.

He cursed under his breath as a set of pulleys pinched his thumb before setting in their rightful place.

Mike should have had better taste than to discuss their conversation with her. The problem was, Jessie thought that Don should have had better taste (though she called it respect) to not have had the conversation to begin with. At least, not in such detail. And he would have abided by her wishes if only she had voiced them. How was he supposed to know that she'd have such a dramatic reaction? Jessie was never that dramatic.

So it goes without saying that while he didn't completely understand how he had fouled, he understood enough to know that he needed to fix it. Quickly. He had dropped the argument of 'ignorance is exemption' to try an appeal tactic. Apologizing had the same lack of effect that the reasoning had procured. Promises to take further consideration in the future failed to impress his mortified girlfriend. Knowing that he would never be able to buy his way out of female problems with expensive gifts, he offered what he could. He gave himself to the mechanically impaired, technologically challenged teenager for an entire Saturday. Morning practice, breakfast, a bi-monthly test of the lair's security systems, and he was off to her handyman special of an apartment. The building was divided into four 'apartments' that were run down, dilapidated, and worth only a fraction of what she was paying for it. She was renting to own, and the owner's desperation to get rid of the rat-trap was the only reason she could afford it at all. The only decent part of the deal was the private garage, where the grease-covered mechanic/technician/carpenter/ninja turtle lay sprawled beneath his girlfriend's vehicle.

The said girlfriend was sitting comfortably nearby, cushioned by thick pillows and entertained by the newly revamped laptop. Her mouse-brown hair would fall into her face now and then, and she would use the condensation from her glass to wet it back. She leaned back against the garage wall and addressed the boyfriend that so obviously still required training. "I keep getting a pop-up from Windows, asking me about blocking something."

He spoke without moving from his position, a hint of tiredness in his voice, "Is it asking about the virus protection program I showed you?"

There was a pause as she took a closer look. Who knew that these things actually said something important? "Yes..."

"I didn't think that Windows would recognize it. Just click 'unblock', and it won't bother you anymore."

She did as she was told, and the screen cleared to the image of her desktop. She hadn't had a browser open for at least half an hour now; she found herself to be content just watching Don work. It was a strange feeling, and one that she was still trying to work out. Was it the ownership? No, she always preferred to be the one being dominated in their activities. It wasn't the power that she found herself entranced with, it was the fact that he willingly did all of this for her. Okay, it was punishment- but a punishment that he volunteered for nonetheless. Perhaps it was a woman's instinct to find a provider, or it could have just been a repairman fetish; either way, it had been turning her on all day. The few hours he spent at her laptop adding memory, cleaning disk space, installing protection and who knows what else, had gone by as just that. Making amends by doing something that he would have most likely done eventually anyway. Then she had set him to the task of fixing her plumbing. Her entire plumbing. Having him repair her home, putting so much time and effort into something for her made Jessie feel warm and fuzzy inside. Watching him stretched out on the floor, so preoccupied with his task that she could just stare unabashed, that warmth spread lower and the fuzziness turned into something liquid.

The initial horror of his indiscretions had fizzled down to a burning irritation. Now, hours of plumbing, computer revamping, light carpentering, and mechanical labor later, that irritation had melted away to unbridled admiration.

As much as the psychological aspects had warmed her before, her thoughts as of late had been more along the lines of lust.

Even with the breaks, snacks, and meals she offered him, he really had been working all day. Hearing that strain of tiredness in his voice almost made her feel sorry for him. Almost.

The pulleys were all in their respective places, the belt tightened, and the check list of car maintenance completed. Don grabbed the grease towel only to realize that he had already soiled every inch of the cloth. His voice was only slightly muffled by the ton of steel above him. "Do you have another rag, Jess?"

The sound of the laptop being set gently onto the concrete was followed by a rummaging of drawers. Donatello pushed himself out from under the van to find the brunette looking down at him with a clean towel in her hand and an odd expression on her face. He held out his hand for the cloth, but she gave no inclination of giving it to him. Instead, she arched her eyebrow and allowed her eyes to roam over his body. "And how much good do you expect this little rag to do you?"

The ninja took a moment to give himself a once-over. Indeed, there were splotches of oil along his plastron, dried where it had gathered in the creases from the oil change. Streaks of black grease and brownish lube oil decorated his arms, legs, hands, and face as if green were just an afterthought. To mop himself up with a rag did seem rather redundant at that point.

Jessie shook her head but dropped the cloth into his lap anyway. "Just make sure your feet are clean, so you don't track it inside. I'll run a bath for you."

With that, she disappeared through the door. Left behind with yet more orders, Don began to clean the tools and set them in his box. A bath didn't sound bad, not to an oil-smeared turtle who had been cramped beneath one tedious problem or another for most of the day. It was possible that, once clean, his taskmaster (read: girlfriend) would be less inclined to work him anymore. Not that it was real slave labor- it was just more than he thought she'd take him for. Then again, she was really upset with him. So much for making up tonight...

With a sigh of resignation, he finished toweling his feet and met Jessie in the bathroom.

In the time it took to tie up the loose ends in the garage, the tub had been filled two thirds with hot, steamy water. He mused for a moment on the quality plumbing, before catching the scent of lilacs and lavender. Jessie had some kind of bathroom fetish; she had soaps, gels, sponges, fizzes, milks, and salts that took up most of the cabinet space. Judging by the heady aroma rising with the steam, Donatello was about to be treated to something fragrant and flowery. As much as he enjoyed her signs of femininity, he was also hoping not to return home smelling like fruit or flowers. He would get ribbed enough for today as it is.

The waiting bath calling to him, Don quickly removed his pads, belt, and mask before slipping into the tub with one long, appreciative moan. He reclined back, submerging as much of his body that the tub would allow. He closed his eyes as the heat soaked through his skin, spread through his muscles, and warmed his bones. The calming scent of lavender helped to steady his breathing as he felt the tension of the day seeping away. He inhaled deeply, resting his head on the tub's edge.

Jessie's voice was gentle, congruous to the relaxing atmosphere of the bathroom. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me today, Don."

He opened his eyes to meet her's. She offered him a smile while soaping up a soft sponge. The smile was innocent enough, but her eyes weren't.

"And is this my reward? Are you going to bathe me?"

He had half meant it as a joke, but her response let him know that he was closer to the truth than he realized. "I suppose you can think of it that way. But in all honesty," she lowered her voice to a tone used only in the bedroom, "I'm still getting what I want."

He wasn't sure if he should quirk and eyeridge or sport a grin, so he did both.

She pressed the sponge to his top plates, rubbing the smears away in slow, circular motions. The soap left Don's carapace wet and glistening and she moved beneath the water to reach the entire length of it. As often as he had bathed himself over his lifetime, he had never paid quite so much attention to detail. Although not as sensitive as skin, he could still feel the texture of the sponge and the pressure of her touch. Once the stains were removed, he adjusted to a sitting position, leaning forward just slightly as to expose his shell. He couldn't have possibly gotten oil back there, but hey- if she was going to pamper him, he was going to thoroughly enjoy it. She set to work at the textured surface, using a similar circular motion. The turtle's sensitivity was even less here, but he was quite content in receiving her attentions. She had to dip into the water again to cover every inch, and did not stop until she did. As she rinsed and re-lathered the sponge, Don scooted so that he could sit back against the wall and still keep his lower body submerged.

She took his hand in her's and lathered between his fingers, over his palm, and along the back of his hand. She glided the sponge over his muscled arms in slick, smooth strokes. He closed his eyes as she worked on his shoulders, then back down the other arm. The feeling of being bathed, of being taken care of, was so much more than just the caress of soap. It was the loving attention to detail that she gave her administrations, it was the occasional eye contact that told him how much she was enjoying doing it for him...

It was the sudden pressure beneath his lower plates.

His eyes snapped open just as the sponge was rounding his knee. That wasn't where it was a second ago. His startle must have showed, for she was trying her damnedest to suppress a self-satisfied smile. Like the cat who ate the canary, but would still roll over to look cute. On a bed of feathers.

She continued to rub down his calf, taking his two-toed foot into her hands and squeezing it a gentle, slippery massage. He let out a quiet groan as she worked over one foot and moved to the other. Adding a bit more soap to the sponge, she stroked up his other calf, around and behind his knee, and took particular interest in his thigh. She rubbed the outside of his thigh with gentle motions that slowed the closer to his carapace she got. The sponge returned to the underside of his knee, to stroke deliberately along his inner thigh. His breath caught as his body responded, growing hard beneath its confines.

"I though you wanted me to bathe you..?"

She was speaking in a playful tone that clearly suggested there was more to clean. Don gave a smile himself- he knew Jessie. She was many things, but a tease wasn't one of them; her offers came with a guarantee. He tsked her almost reprimandingly. "You should know that a sponge like that is far too abrasive. Enjoyable, surely. But not meant for more...sensitive areas."

She squeezed the brown sponge, letting the suds spill over her hands. "I wasn't going to use the sponge, Donnie..."

An appreciative moan escaped his throat as her hand found the skin between his plastron and thigh, the soap aiding her caresses. His hips jerked as she came perilously close to his hardness, but she continued around his entire pelvic region undeterred. He could feel the blood rushing to his member, making it throb with want. She was obviously not going to go any further without him offering himself.

He lowered his tail and freed his cock into the warm water, enjoying Jessie's usual response. Her eyes widened just a bit, as if it still surprised her to see it all of a sudden. Then her lids drooped intimately, admiring the view. Finally, the very tip of her tongue snaked out to touch her lips. This always happened within the first three seconds of exposure, and as Don soon realized, was all subconscious.

She wrapped one soap-slicked hand loosely around the base of his cock, then moved up to the tip. Her fingers lingered, playing with the head as his breath quickened. She moved back down, making sure to apply just enough pressure to coat his member with the slippery residue, before bringing her hand back to the tip. His breath came out ragged and she released him, earning a look of frustration from the ninja. She rubbed her hands together beneath the water to rid them of the soap, then returned to the swollen object of attention. She grasped a bit tighter this time, and pumped a little faster to rinse it of the slick residue. Donatello's toes curled as he lifted one knee out of the water to keep from splashing around. It took all of his control not to thrust into her hand- he wasn't even sure if she meant to bring him here in the tub, or not.

Obviously not.

Once confident that all of the soap had been removed, she popped the drain and stood, fetching a towel. Don bit back a growl but stood anyway; no sense sitting in an empty tub with an erection. No, he'd rather stand.

When she returned with a fluffy white towel, her eyes darted straight to the unfinished business. He stood there, beads of water rolling down his body and around the curves of muscle, erect and unashamed. His eyes clearly said 'finish what you started,' and it was her breath that caught. He looked so smug standing there, poised like something straight from Playgirl Exotica. She wanted nothing more that to throw herself on him and allow him to plunge into her...

Her face must have betrayed her thoughts, for he still throbbed despite the cool air.

Too late for collected appearances, she peeled off her shirt and kicked down her skirt. Having foreseen this possibility, she had forgone the underwear and now simply wrapped the towel around herself and left the bathroom.

"I thought the towel was for me!"

A giggle floated from the bedroom. "It is...but you have to come get it."

He wasted no time in his pursuit- that was how he was trained, after all. She was already kneeling on the bed, the towel wrapped around her shoulders when he stalked in. He came to stop in front of her, wet feet soaking the carpet as she clung to the dry towel. "You could always drip-dry..." Her eyes wandered over his body to rest on the glistening cock ten inches from her face. Then she did it again- she licked her lips as if wondering what it would be like to roll him in her mouth. It wasn't a new experience by now, but still one that sent his heart racing with anticipation. He moved until he was mere inches from her lips, then nearly whispered, "I'm sure that we could be more resourceful than that..."

The towel dropped from her shoulders, exposing her round breasts to the room. She leaned forward and gave an experimental lick, savoring the difference the extra water provided. He drew in a shuddering breath as she took the tip of him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head. He stroked her hair as her tongue ran from tip to base, then back again- licking up the extra moisture and leaving some of her own. She hadn't taken him fully into her mouth; the teasing was a sign that she wouldn't be satisfied with fellatio alone.

He pulled away reluctantly, only to press her down against the bed. Laying his body over hers, he began kissing along her throat. She arched up, pressing her hips to his and let out a moan as she felt his erection against her thigh. As his mouth trailed across her collarbone, her voice came out breathy and demanding. "I've been watching you all day. I just gave you a sponge bath and licked the water off of your cock," His hips jerked, pressing himself more firmly to her thigh, "What other foreplay could you possibly need?"

He didn't comment on the fact that the foreplay was usually for her. He did, however, want to hear her word it in a more seductive invitation. He laid a kiss below her ear, then nibbled. "What are you trying to say?"

She let out a moan that bordered between frustration and pleasure as she rubbed her thigh against his erection. Just the feel of him made her lower muscles clench and water, as if spotting some delicious morsel. Of course morsel wasn't the word for Donatello. His mouth on her ear felt so good, but she wanted more..."I want you, Don. I need you, please."

One moment, she could feel his cock twitch against her and the next, a scream was breaking free from her throat as he thrust into her, stretching her walls and filling her. She grabbed for him, wrapping her arms and legs around his hard body as he began a rhythm. Her muscles squeezed against him and he shuddered, closing his eyes against the pressure. The mattress shook from the strength of his thrusts as Jessie's screams grew louder and louder, beyond that of any actress. He grabbed her hips and jerked her to him, driving deeply into her heat.

Her nails raked across his shell as the pressure built, rising and rolling like some great wave within her abdomen. He would pull out enough that his tip would stop just within her entrance, then plunge back in to the hilt, making her vision swim with the colors of green skin, tan flesh, and a splash of ecstasy.

She could feel the lip of his carapace slap against her rear as he pistoned with all of his strength; her voice screamed without her consent, wordless and high as the world came crashing around her. Donatello's fingers dug into her flesh as she bucked and thrashed, coming hard around him. Her screams were punctured by the rhythm of their activity, sounding almost as if she were moaning through a fan; the warmth spread around his cock and down her legs as she ejaculated, making his release slick and wet. He held her close as he came, shuddering, moaning, and screaming her name.

Minutes later, they had come back down from their orgasms and simply cuddled. Donatello held a curled Jessie to him in a spooning position and inhaled the scent of lavender, lilac, and sex. The tension in his body long forgotten, his lids began to droop as his mind relaxed in content.

"You'd better not fall asleep, Don."

He smiled into her hair and wrapped his arms more securely around her waist. "And why is that?"

Her voice held a hint of amusement, like a cat can be amused by a mouse, yet feel no sympathy in letting it go. "I've still got you for a few more hours, and I'd like a new set of shelves right over there, by the dresser."