I don't know if it's normal to desperately stare at my brother's hips and therefore forget to put the spoon into my mouth during breakfast. And I don't know if it's normal to spend the nights longing for the possibility to dig my fingers into them.

Maybe it's because I've seen him do it.

I didn't really mean to. I was aiming for the kitchen but stopped outside his door. There were weird noises and I couldn't resist it, so I opened the door and peeked inside.

I saw him on the bed. He was arching his back and had a towel tucked inside his mouth, trying to keep any noise from escaping. His hands caressed, pinched and scratched everywhere, and sometimes he'd just barely let his fingertips touch his hip-bones.

He dug his fingers into the green skin and left barely noticeable white marks on it. He purred and wrenched his whole body with each tiny little caress.

I swallowed hard and had to grab the door with my hand to even stand up straight. He was teasing himself; torturing his own body with rough hands that didn't really touched where he wanted them to, but so, so close to that.

Every time his hands got anywhere near his hips, he closed his eyes and whimpered in painful arousal.

I bit my lover lip. Hard.

- Raph…

I froze and stared at him.

Fuck.

He noticed me.

I closed my eyes.

- Raph!

And I opened my eyes.

Over there, in the bed, he practically clawed his hips and jerked his pelvis upwards in the air, searching for something or someone to meet him halfway. Whimpering. While moaning my name.

I must've done something damn good to deserve that show.