godhead [COMPLETED]

26

Calla

I woke up the next morning, taken back by the feeling of two strong arms around my waist. I had to admit, it was a strange feeling, waking up to the warmth of another body. I loved it of course, but it was still strange.

I turn to face Donatello and smile, taking in his handsome features. His beard was tight but scruffy while his body warm. He was a pretty thing to look at but so was his mind. I try to peel the blankets away to relieve myself but he tightened his grip, wrapping his arms tightly around my torso.

"So you are awake?" I whisper. A sly smile forms but he still keeps his eyes closed.

"I have been up since our last conversation." he admitted finally opening his eyes to watch me. Silence filled the quiet room and stare at each other, trying to determine the inner thoughts on one another. His eyes dropped to the ridges of my lips before he attacked them, pressing his warmth onto mine and again I felt that familiar feeling; a warmth that I could not describe for I have never felt it before; well before Donatello arrived.

We separated once again and gazed at each other. "You barley slept." He glances at a small watch that rested on top of bedside table. "It's only 4 am"

"I can say the same for you." I remind him. He smiles before pulling me into his arms, tugging the covers over me so I could sleep. "You still have time to rest." He kisses my forehead, blowing out the last candle that lazily illuminate. He was right. Truly, I  was tired and decided to listen to his advice, adjusting again to his warmth before closing my eyes  to sleep.

——

I woke again but frowned, looking at the empty place where Donatello once rested. A small smile appears upon my face as I remember our long night of passion. He was amazing and every bit of man. He was gentle yet so...commanding.

Nothing like Leo.
I cursed myself for even comparing him to that monster.

Still, I wondered where he was? His bed was empty and his clothes from yesterday were nowhere to be seen.

"Donatello?" I whispered, pulling the covers off in search. I walk over to his quarters and smile, peeking behind a curtained window. On his balcony he stood, hunched over his board and easel. He was in a pair of loose pants and a thick cloud of smoke painted the scene. I could see it was from the small pipe between his lips.

I tiptoe over to him, my feet barely touching the stone, before I push my soft palms around his chest, moving to message  his shoulders as he adjusted to my warmth. "Calla" he sighed my name, more smoke filled the air. He pulled my hand to his lips, placing his tender kisses upon it.

Donatello

Another coat of paint and I was almost finished. I knew Calla would freak once she saw my art. Any sane person would.  My art was free thinking and a bit unconventional but it's what I enjoyed, what made the spectators hinder and discuss.