um... meow?

Leonardo

Back and Chest - He loves being able to feel the warmth of an area he's never experienced himself (given by the shell and all). The way he can feel the muscles on your back flex and tweak under your skin is so fascinating to him. He honestly adores the feeling of your heart thumping against his ear while he buries his head into your chest.

Jaw - Man, something about touching or even just looking at your jaw makes him swoon. If it's smoothed out and rounded? Great, easier to cup in his palm. If it's sharp and cornered? Catch him drooling over it in the distance. Ooooh don't even get him started on the muscle twitch thing- his legs will pretty much give out on the spot.

Raphael

Legs - To him, they're quite satisfying to look at. Watching your calf muscles tense as you reach up for something on your toes, or feeling your thighs twitch now and then when you're pressed against him. Whether they're smaller or bigger, he loves to just have a hold of 'em if you'd let him, especially if he gets to lie in your lap. Perfect cushions.

Hands - It's a very likely chance that you're hands are going to be smaller than his (the turtles have HUGE hands), and he absolutely adores this. He can't pin point as to why, but something about having your smaller hand held up against his larger one, or if you go to hold onto his finger because it's easier to grab- his heart is near to exploding. He finds himself being very gentle with them, as well as the rest of you.

Donatello

Neck - Definitely has a soft spot for your neck. He just finds it so unbelievably pretty. Has a habit nuzzling his face into your nape whether you're cuddling or if he just wants you to give him attention. Oh, you're chilly? Sorry dude, his cold snout is not gonna help with that at all, I'd invest in a turtleneck if you haven't already.

Cheeks - Loves stroking his thumb over the apple of your cheek, feeling the warmth rising beneath them when he gives you a peck on the face. The soft texture of your skin under his calloused hands is something he looks forward to every day, especially after working awfully hard.

Michelangelo

Hair - Head pats are a must when you're within a metre radius of Mikey. Just the feeling of each strand combing through his fingers sends shivers up his arm. He gives scalp massages if you've had a particularly rough day or are suffering from headaches just to help you feel that more relaxed.

Arms - He loves having an arm to grab when walking from place to place or on the off chance he's feeling uncomfortable. Or being tucked into your side while you encase him with your arms, giving a sense of safety and reassurance that you're there. Either way, you'll most likely always feel a three-fingered hand grasping at your bicep or forearm.

Thick as honey, and just as sweet — perhaps not so much in taste, but in the feeling of it as the pale oil seeps into your body. The magic of becoming, of creation, all stored in a little glass bottle — and now, stored in you. It’s strange, how just a few drops of this suspension has given you the reigns back to your life. Given you back your mind, turned your body into something that isn’t just inhabited, but loved. It’s divine, it’s—

“So, when are you gonna let me take a stab at it?”

Leonardo sits on the floor, leaning against the rim of the bathtub with his legs crossed. You shoot your lover a look at his sudden interjection, although he doesn’t meet your gaze — instead, he remains lazer-focused on the small needle in your thigh as you slowly inject the liquid. He’s been by your side since day one, cracking jokes for the first few months to help with the adrenaline of putting a sharp object in your body, before settling into a habit of quiet, yet eager observation as your fear subsided into a calm routine. The novelty of your weekly injections wore off within a few months, sure, but the excitement never did — perhaps that’s why he still insists on sitting with you while you do your shot. But this? This is new. You roll the words around in your head for a moment, and despite the strangeness of the statement, he seems completely serious. It takes a lot not to laugh at the absurdity of the statement, but it sparks a wave of amusement nonetheless.

“And by it, you mean me, I assume?” You grin, “Should I be worried?”

This coaxes a laugh out of him, and his eyes bounce up to meet your own for a split second in mirth before returning back to your exposed thigh. “Come on,” he draws out, “Isn’t it romantic?”

“You think stabbing me with a needle is romantic? Maybe I should be worried.”

“You know, there’s plenty of people ready to disagree with you on that, for many a reason. If anything, I think my take on it is the most normal of them. Unless you want me to be a mad scientist, in which case, I think you might be color blind. And hearing blind. Deaf, that’s the word-” He rambles, finally meeting your eyes in full. It’s only then that you pull the needle from your thigh, loosely capping it before cleaning and dressing the small wound. He’s halfway through another half-baked — although you must admit, charming one-liner — when you silence him with a quick kiss to the lips. Pretty blue eyes soften, and lips upturn in adoration, still enamored you all these years later.

“You want to help?” You ask.

He nods, and at that, you take his hand in yours, placing it gently on your thigh before applying the faintest of pressure to his larger digits. He takes the hint, pressing against the spot where you had just withdrawn from, working the oil into the surrounding tissues. I love you, his movements say, I’m happy I get to be here with you for this. You drag your nails fondly across the top of his shell, and it’s sweet, and tender, and it almost makes you feel bad for wanting to ruin the sanctity of it…

“You’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m gonna let you stab me with those big ass hands of yours—”

“You know what? I take it back, you should be worried,” he laughs, launching up off of his position on the floor to wrap you in his arms. Strong arms wrap around you to pull you to your feet, then up in the air against your will, coaxing a shriek from your lips when he drags you away from your array of wrappers — and you feel at home. In your body, in his arms, in your house below the city streets — everything is as its meant to be.