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Sonic realizes something is wrong when Shadow finds him on his evening run and, instead of doing something reasonable like starting a fight or outright ignoring him, presses his forehead against Sonic's.
It's not like they haven't been this close before. There's been plenty of skin-on-skin when they've fought in the past, both when their target's been each other and when they've teamed up against a common enemy. Then there's the few times they've fooled around; a handful of times when they got caught up in the physicality of a fight, a few more casual encounters when one or both of them just needed to blow off some steam.
This, though—this is new. This sappy, romantic, touchy-feely stuff just isn't them. At least, it's not Sonic. Up until now, he's always thought Shadow was on the same page.
Sonic pushes him away a little harder than he means to. "What—" He stops when he finally gets a proper look at Shadow. The hybrid looks—rough. Sweaty, disheveled, kind of tired. There's a bright, crazed sort of look in his eyes that Sonic would attribute to a fever if he didn't know Shadow can't get sick.
He lowers his voice and tries again, more gentle. "What's wrong with you?"
"I… I don't—" Shadow looks around, blinking like he's waking up from a deep sleep. Like he's not sure where he is or how he got there. For a moment he seems aware—then his gaze settles on Sonic, and his eyes glaze over again. "I'm lonely."
Sonic can't help it: he laughs, loud and sudden. It feels mean, possibly even cruel, but—seriously. How the fuck else is he supposed to react to Shadow, of all people, telling him he's lonely.
"No offense, dude," he says, once he has his laughter under control, "but—fucking what? There's no way you're lonely." More accurately, there's no way in hell Shadow would ever admit it, even if it were true. That guy is so closed off it makes Sonic look like he wears his heart on his sleeve. He's not about to say that, though; it's only gonna make Shadow pissed, and fighting him when he's clearly unwell wouldn't be any fun.
"Not lonely," Shadow says, slowly. It's weird for him to do anything slowly, but it's true. He's even blinking slowly, like his eyelids are moving through molasses. "I'm alone."
"I thought that's how you preferred things," Sonic says.
Shadow shakes his head. He steps forward. Slow again—so slow Sonic could easily move away from him and keep their distance the same, but he lets Shadow into his personal bubble instead. If he collapses, or something, it'll be easier to catch him if Sonic is near.
"No," Shadow says. "I don't—I've never been alone like this."
…Okay. That's not weird at all.
"Riiight," Sonic says. "You sure that's all? Nothing else going on with you?"
Shadow frowns. Sonic taps his foot as he waits for his answer. When it doesn't come, he sighs and runs a hand through his quills. "If you're feeling lonely, go hang out with Rouge. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to spend time with you."
He's not sure why Shadow didn't look for her in the first place. He should know better than to expect Sonic to play at being his therapist. A pep talk every now and again? Sure, no biggie. A quick roll in the hay to distract the guy from his problems? Fine. Anything more, though? Sonic just isn't the right person to come to.
Satisfied the manner is settled, Sonic tries to leave—only to stop when Shadow's hand closes around his forearm, grip tight enough to bruise.
"I can't go to Rouge," Shadow says, sounding a little more like himself. When Sonic meets his eyes, he notices they seems sharper, more focused. "It has to be you."
Sonic huffs, more than a little annoyed. He was supposed to spend his evening on a nice run, not solving Shadow's fucking riddles. "What has to be me?"
"You're—strong." The word comes out strained, like Shadow has trouble paying him a compliment even while he's out of it. "They wanted it to be you."
Sonic's eyebrows rise incredulously—but before he can even begin to ask who they are, Shadow continues.
"You're the only one who can make me whole again."
What. The. Fuck.
Sonic tries to pull his arm from Shadow's grip. When he can't, he chuckles nervously. "Hey, dude. Mind letting me go?"
"No. You have to—help me." Shadow sounds even more strained that before, like the words are physically being torn from him. For a moment after he speaks, just a fraction of a second, he looks like himself again: uncomfortable, pissed off, jaw tense like he's fighting something. His grip slackens minutely—then immediately tightens again as his eyes glaze over. "You have to make me whole."
"If this is some new kind of come-on you're trying out, I gotta tell you it's not working," Sonic says. He tries again to extricate himself from the vise-like grip Shadow has on his arm. Another failure. "Let go."
To his surprise, Shadow actually does—kind of. His grip loosens but doesn't release; his hand slides down from Sonic's upper arm to his wrist, fingers forming a loose ring around it.
Sonic lifts his eyes from the hand around his wrist to look at Shadow, gaze questioning. What he sees is yet another surprise: Shadow's lower lip is wobbling, his eyes shining. He looks pathetic, like he's about to cry.
"Don't make me be alone again," Shadow whispers.
Sonic's heart constricts painfully. "Yeah, okay. 'Course, Shadow. Whatever you need."
It's not unexpected, exactly, when Shadow kisses him—but the way he does it, soft and slow and almost sweet, sets alarm bells ringing in Sonic's brain. They rarely kiss during their encounters. When they do, it's the furthest thing from sweet; more teeth and tongues than lips, raw desperation and the taste of blood in their mouths.
Sonic pushes Shadow away. The sound Shadow makes when their lips disconnect is absolutely wretched, a desperate sort of whine that shoots straight to Sonic's dick. Shadow is so uptight it's rare for him to even moan; he'll maybe do it if Sonic manages to catch him off guard or edge him long enough, but for the most part his vocalizations during sex begin and end with grunts and pants.
It kinda messes with Sonic plans. He had intended to put a stop to this, or at least check in that Shadow isn't actually out of his mind—but that sound really makes him wants to see what other noises he can pull out of Shadow.
He surges forward and kisses Shadow more like he's used to. Their teeth knock together; Shadow's bottom lip gets caught between and splits open, blood dripping into Sonic's mouth, metallic and rich. Sonic pulls away, grinning because he knows Shadow gets off on seeing his teeth stained green. It actually gets him his desired response, Shadow's eyes sharpening and his pupils blowing wide—right before his eyes narrow in anger when Sonic hooks a foot around his ankle and pulls, pushing at his shoulders simultaneously so Shadow tumbles roughly to the ground.
"Bastard," Shadow wheezes out.
Sonic laughs as he follows him down, pushing Shadow's legs open so he can kneel between them. "Pretend all you want." He grabs Shadow's muzzle with one hand and turns his head to the side, leaning on his shoulder with the other so he can bend forwards and lick a long stripe up the side of Shadow's face. No surprise; Shadow makes a disgusted noise, jaw tightening in annoyance, but he makes no move to push Sonic off. "I know how you like it."
Even like this, he has no doubt Shadow could throw him across this fucking clearing if he really wanted to. He doesn't, of course. He never does. Sure, he'll bite and kick and struggle a bit the way Sonic likes it, but it's all just part of their game; Shadow hurts Sonic the way he wants to be hurt, and Sonic allows him to pretend he's not into some nasty shit of his own in return.
"Just—" Shadow's voice is muffled by the grip Sonic has on his jaw. He pushes Sonic's arm away and hisses. "Hurry. I don't know how much longer I can ignore the echoes."
That mysterious bullshit again. Sonic pauses, trying to catch Shadow's eyes. "Are you ever going to tell me what—"
Shadow growls. He places his palm flat on Sonic's face and pushes him downwards. "What part of hurry did you not understand? Want me to use smaller words next time?"
Sonic rolls his eyes. Seems Shadow is moody as ever even under the influence of—whatever the fuck is wrong with him.
The hand against his face pushes more insistently. Sonic swats it away with no small amount of annoyance and a muttered yeah, yeah before shuffling backwards on his knees until his head is level with Shadow's crotch. His pouch is already swollen, the tip of his tentacle-like dick peeking out from the top of his slit.
Sonic ignores it for now, grabbing Shadow's thighs and pushing them up. He's never going to get tired of how he can basically fold Shadow in half without so much as a sound of protest from him, the way it allows him easy access to the hole below Shadow's tail. It winks up at him invitingly, and Sonic wastes no time before diving in and laving his tongue across it.
Shadow grunts at the first touch. His breathing grows heavy as Sonic starts eating his ass in earnest. Spit drips down Sonic's chin, across Shadow's ass until it reaches the tail swishing softly across the ground. Sonic waits until Shadow's thighs begin to tremble to push his tongue into his hole. He fucks him like that, smiling when Shadow grunts again as he shoves his tongue deep, deep, as deep as he can get.
Pulling away gets him another whine, that same soft, pathetic sound from before. Sonic's head spins. He feels dizzy, almost drunk with power. His mind whirls until it finally settles down with one crystal clear thought: I wonder if I can make him cry.
"Sonic, please."
Hoooly shit. Sonic's blood rushes south so fast he genuinely thinks he blacks out for a moment. Hearing Shadow swallow his pride and ask for help is one thing; hearing him actually beg in a situation like this is like a dream come true. A good one, too: the kind of wet dream that has him waking up covered in his own jizz, still hard and aching for more.
"I need—"
Sonic doesn't wait for Shadow to finish. He hooks his thumb on Shadow's rim and pulls his hole open so he can spit in it. Shadow doesn't even pretend to be disgusted, which is how Sonic knows he's really far gone. There's no reason to keep teasing, then; he shoves two fingers inside to the third knuckle without hesitation, scissoring them apart and twisting his wrist to spread what little lubrication his spit can provide around. He keeps his fingers spread as he spits again, repeating the maneuver again and again until—
"Fucking—get on with it!" Shadow leans on his elbows to glare down at Sonic, expression fierce but eyes still slightly glassy. He's scored a deep gash into the dirt from clawing at the ground. Sonic didn't even notice it happen, that's how focused he was on stretching Shadow.
Sonic looks from the gash in the earth to Shadow's face, one corner of his mouth quirking up. "Couldn't have done that to my back, or something?"
Shadow groans, dropping flat so the back of his head thumps against the ground. He opens his mouth to speak—and nothing comes out. His eyes go unfocused, glazing over entirely.
Sonic waits. When that doesn't get him anything, he leans over and waves a hand in front of Shadow's face. "Hello? Earth to Sh—"
A hand snatches his wrist out of the air and pulls it to the side so violently Sonic nearly faceplants into Shadow's shoulder. He just barely manages to catch himself with his other hand, turning a glare onto Shadow. "Dude."
Shadow turns his head to look at him. His eyes are still unfocused, but his voice doesn't waver. "Fuck me. Now."
"Sheesh. So demanding," Sonic mutters. Even so, he doesn't argue, grabbing his dick by the base and lining himself up with Shadow's hole.
Instead of pushing in immediately, Sonic waits. Shadow already begged once; he can probably get him to do it again, right?
"What do we say?" Sonic asks, a playful lilt to his voice.
"I will kill you," Shadow deadpans. "Slowly. Violently."
Sonic can't help but laugh, genuinely delighted. Why did he ever expect anything else?
"Yeah," he says as he starts to push in. "Yeah, okay." Anything else he might have said dissolves into a groan as the head of his dick pops inside.
As he's come to expect from Shadow, he's tight as a vise, squeezing like he's trying to cut off circulation to Sonic's dick. The first few times Sonic topped him he took it slow, thinking Shadow needed time to adjust—but he's since learned there's no need.
Sonic pushes inside slowly, gritting his teeth against the resistance and the feeling of tight heat around him. Shadow doesn't exactly help matters; he moves his hips back against Sonic's, muttering for him to hurry the fuck up even though he's clenching down like he's hoping to tear Sonic's dick clean off.
When he bottoms out, Sonic pauses and attempts to catch his breath. It's useless, of course; Shadow is so tight around him he feels like he'll come the moment he moves. "Can you—fuck, can you ease up? You're kind of chocking me, here."
Shadow doesn't make any of the comments Sonic was half-expecting—something like I thought you liked getting choked or can't last, faker? In fact, he doesn't say anything, just huffs and relaxes the slightest bit so Sonic feels like he can move without getting a layer of skin torn off.
He draws back slightly, then pushes back in. It's only a small movement, barely more than a rock of his hips—but Shadow reacts like he nailed his prostate with a powerful thrust, that sort of half-groan, half-moan that is the most Sonic ever gets out of him. When Sonic starts thrusting properly he does moan, a soft, sweet sound that goes straight to Sonic's head. It's a rush of power so heady he can't even attempt to drag things out the way he usually would; he leans over Shadow, bracing himself on his elbows as he sets a fast rhythm.
Shadow moans again, legs and arms flying up to wrap around Sonic's body. His fingers dig in, claws sharp even through his gloves. The slight edge of pain only spurs Sonic on, his thrusts speeding up to the point he doubts anybody except Shadow could take it.
It's easy to tell when he manages to hit Shadow's prostate; the hybrid growls, bowing off the ground and sinking his teeth into Sonic's shoulder. His fangs slice deep, cutting through muscle like it's nothing. The pain is good—but like this, Sonic can't hear Shadow moan.
He tangles one hand in Shadow's quills and pulls. Shadow's teeth slice through more of his flesh as he's torn off Sonic's shoulder with a strangled moan. One of Shadow's hands clamps around the back of Sonic's head in turn, pulling him forward—not into a kiss, as Sonic would have guessed, but to press their foreheads together again.
For a fraction of a second things remain normal—then the world expands. Colors and shapes flood Sonic's mind. Planets and stars and what feels like the entire universe in his mind, all at once; a vast, empty space between him and everything else that he knows should be filled with something—or somebody.
A moment later things settle and become less overwhelming—but even so, Sonic feels like more than he was before.
He realizes why the next time he thrusts, when he feels the burning, satisfying stretch of something thick filling him up, the shock of pleasure when something hits his prostate. Sonic can't be feeling that, though—so it must be…
Sonic focuses on the pleasure that isn't his. That focus opens up a floodgate: Shadow's thoughts and feelings, his everything flows into Sonic like water into an already full glass. Chants of yesyesyes moremoremore leave his mind as soon as they enter. Feelings, too: anger and sadness and an almost unbearable sort of fondness that Sonic shies away from immediately. Underneath that there's fear, caused by the echoes of voices Sonic can hear at the very edge of his consciousness when he focuses.
Assimilate. Absorb.
Procreate.
Sonic jerks back like he's been burned, both physically and—not physically. The overwhelming entirety in his mind becomes less, everything except Shadow's surface thoughts and feelings falling by the wayside. Physically, he has less success; Shadow's legs remain tight around him, keeping him inside.
When Sonic stops thrusting, not entirely keen on the idea of—breeding with Shadow, or whatever the fuck his freaky alien side wants him to do, Shadow flips them over. Sonic's back hits the ground with a thump, the impact just enough to make him lose the focus required to keep the thoughts that aren't his at bay. When he finally manages to return to himself, Shadow is riding him hard and fast and Sonic can't really remember what he was afraid of.
Things blur—thoughts, feelings, time. Shadow looks practically delirious, head thrown back and drool slipping down his chin. Sonic isn't much better off; he's moaning nearly continuously, so overcome by the sheer sensation of it all that he occasionally forgets to take a breath. One of them thinks so fucking hot and one of them thinks spit in my mouth. Shadow is the one to actually do it, prying Sonic's mouth open with two fingers and leaning over to spit in it.
Sonic groans as he swallows and Shadow clenches down around him in response. The dual feeling of something squeezing around him and the hot pulse of a dick throbbing against his—against Shadow's—walls is what does it: Sonic tips over the edge right into orgasm. Shadow follows behind a fraction of a second later, entire body shuddering with the intensity of it.
As soon as it's over, whatever connection Sonic had to Shadow and—whatever else gets cut off. He retreats abruptly back into his own mind, overcome for a moment by an incredible sadness at the feeling of loss that follows.
He's still processing that when Shadow slumps like a marionette with its strings cut. He falls against Sonic's chest hard enough that his breath hitches with it—and then just stays there.
Sonic isn't really a cuddler. Shadow isn't either, usually—but Sonic realizes there are extenuating circumstances, here, so he gives it a few minutes before he nudges Shadow's shoulder and mutters for him to get off. Shadow groans like a moody teenager, but does as he's told, dragging himself off Sonic until he's lying face down on the ground instead.
Sonic sits up and looks at him, amused. "Feeling better?"
"Piss off," Shadow responds, face still pressed into the dirt below. "Next time this happens, I have to find a better option than fucking Sonic."
Sonic frowns. "Harsh, dude. And what's up with the third person?"
Shadow pushes himself upright abruptly, staring at Sonic with narrowed eyes. "What?"
"What do you mean, what?" Sonic shoots back. "You said next time this happens—"
"No," Shadow says, firm. "No, I didn't." This had better be some kind of sick joke.
That last bit is Shadow's voice, as well. Sonic hears it clear as day, would recognize it anywhere—but Shadow's mouth didn't move at all.
Oh. Okay. So, that might be a problem.