Chapter Text
The yellowish halo of sunset blurs the ruffled edges of pillowy clouds, streaks of orange blotched with blushed dabs of pink seemingly zip by overhead and create a painterly display interpreting warmth. He is fast enough to disregard the opposing chill that lingers in the air, a desperately clinging remnant of early spring, destined into nonexistence within the coming days. His soles upon the earth are more solidified and less sunken, the softened muck of foliage and flora that inevitably comes with consistent rainfall has begun to retreat, leaving behind dried, firm stepping stones of soil that won’t slow him down. Now baptized by nature and blessed with rebirth, the planet continues to rotate towards vibrancy with a gentle sigh of relief as color and life return to it with open, awaiting arms.
And, though he knows the arms that await him won’t be as gracious and forgiving, Sonic still smiles to himself at the thought of coming home to them anyway.
He climbs the concrete steps two at a time with a sudden shiver, the darkened stairwell leading to his apartment being colder than he had initially anticipated, and forces himself to slow down as he approaches the front door. It isn’t in his nature by any means, but bursting into the apartment at top speed has been deemed unfavorable and also obnoxious, so he makes a conscious effort to avoid it.
Before the door even begins to open, he is lulled into comfort by the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee, the small smile that widens across his muzzle coming naturally by association. He pushes forward into his apartment, slipping off his shoes and shutting the door behind him as he becomes fully enveloped by the scent — and entirely softened at the sight of its maker.
Throughout every trial and tribulation he’s found himself caught up in, across each path he had ever run down, amidst chaos and calamity, through blood and tears, Sonic had always been one to follow his gut — an ingrained instinct that had never failed him, a sixth sense that amounted to countless victories and succeeded missions. It had never been taking a chance because he had always believed in it, because he had concrete evidence to back up its surety.
It had never been taking a chance until he decided to follow his heart instead.
And it led him across a tiled kitchen floor towards the soft drips of a brewing pot of coffee, his gloved fingertips making timid contact with the back that is turned to him, into a crimson gaze that softens when it reaches him, upon lips that recognize his own and reciprocate their tenderness, a gentle meeting of two mouths that were created to settle against the contours of one another.
It led him home.
He lets their kiss linger, keeps it light, trails his palm along Shadow’s lower back, up his side, across his chest, until it comes to rest beneath his muzzle — a soft distraction while he waits for Shadow to step back.
And when he doesn’t, Sonic instead steps forward, steps closer, brushes the peachy fuzz of his own chest against the white tufts of Shadow’s, parts his lips slightly with a pleading invitation for Shadow to fill the gap between them. He is indulged in earnest; the plush of a lower lip immediately occupies the newly-opened space, tender hands place themselves upon cobalt hips with a delicate squeeze, and Sonic sighs softly as he presses tenderly onward.
Opposite hand rising, he slides both gloved palms behind dark shoulders, crosses his arms at the wrists beneath two-toned quills, and pulls Shadow impossibly closer. He huffs a sound of soft surprise that upturns Sonic’s insistent lips and skips his thrumming heart, the sudden pressure returned to him by a taste to his lower lip. He hums in enamored agreement, in enthusiastic permission, letting the tip of his tongue mingle only briefly with Shadow’s own despite knowing it will entirely intensify his craving.
But it is Shadow who caves first to the urge.
With a tightened grip on Sonic's hips, he tugs him forward, pulls them flush together, licks his way into Sonic’s mouth, receives a soft whine in response and drowns it out with devotion. And Sonic becomes mush in its purest form, like the sopping soil that sticks to his shoes after warm rain he is malleable and pliant and a mess; an enraptured putty in the palm of a gloved hand that has been molded to fit the spaces between its fingers.
Beneath Shadow’s touch, his breath hitches and his head spins, a sober inebriation crafted into perfection over time, homemade with equal parts love and desire. A light and fuzzy elation that keeps his jaw slack and his reciprocation lacking in precision, but twice as starved.
It hadn’t even occurred to him how hungry he was.
Somewhere behind them the coffee maker beeps to signify it has finished its pour, and Shadow uses the momentary distraction to flip their positions. Sonic’s lower back hits the edge of the cool marble countertop, his palms still desperately clinging to Shadow with a soft whine in protest. Two gloved hands place themselves against the counter at either side of Sonic’s waist, a firm thigh slots itself between Sonic’s own trembling pair, and a crimson gaze eyes him curiously from mere inches away.
It is quiet aside from their labored breaths and the muffled sound of Sonic’s tail thumping against the wooden cupboards where it wags excitedly.
Shadow breaks the silence first. “That was an interesting way to greet me.”
Sonic’s mouth curls into a smirk. “Are you complaining?”
Shadow keeps his expression unreadable, shrugging. “A ‘hello’ would’ve been nice.”
Rolling his eyes playfully with a huffed laugh, Sonic pulls Shadow forward into a quick peck. “Hi, babe,” he says tenderly, ignoring Shadow’s scoff at the pet name. “I missed you extra bad today.”
Shadow returns a chaste kiss to the corner of Sonic’s mouth, then his cheek, the side of his face. “Really?” He questions sarcastically, but keeps his voice low and sensual. Sonic inhales shakily in anticipation, biting at his lower lip to stifle any further sounds when Shadow gently nips at his ear which twitches softly from the contact. “I could hardly tell.” Shadow finally concludes, a teasing lilt to his tone.
“Shads,” Sonic nearly whines, tilting his head slightly backwards as Shadow continues his path of peppered kisses steadily lower, thoroughly working on the underside of Sonic’s muzzle. He hums in questioning against Sonic’s fur, grazing his fangs across the heated flesh of his neck, smiling to himself when Sonic shudders beneath him. “We could, y’know,” Sonic huffs a heavy exhale when one of Shadow’s palms returns itself to his body, settling just above his fluttering tail. “Continue this elsewhere.”
Shadow pulls away from Sonic’s throat to curiously meet his gaze, tugging gently at his tail despite his verbal composure. “I just made coffee,” he says, entirely noncommittal. “It’ll get cold.”
Sonic groans in mild frustration, leaning backwards over the counter and dragging his hands down Shadow’s chest to exaggerate his exasperation. “Fine.” He decides on, resuming his upright stance with a sly grin. “I can wait until you’re done.”
Cocking an eyebrow, Shadow pulls at his tail once more, watching intently as Sonic shivers and suppresses a moan. “You can wait?” He asks, his tone indicating otherwise.
“Yep.” Sonic attempts a casual shrug, huffs a half-laugh. “You might need the extra boost.” He winks suggestively, begins to push himself away from the counter, notices the way Shadow’s jaw tightens and starts to question it but a firm grip at his wrist provides the answers for him.
Pulling him forward into a quick kiss, Shadow admits: “Well, I can’t.” Between the rapid presses of his lips against Sonic’s own, he clarifies: “I can’t wait.”
Within the fraction of a second it takes to quickly stumble down the hallway, Sonic finds the back of his head hitting the pillows and a comfortable weight toppling downwards with him. He adjusts himself with a soft sigh that tapers into a gentle laugh, nestling his quills into the satiny white plush beneath them, an insistent mouth capturing his hastily from just above.
Sonic pulls back, wraps his arms around Shadow’s shoulders as he sinks himself lower into the mattress, filling the space between Sonic’s parted thighs. “And you call me impatient.” Sonic quips.
“Shut up.” Shadow murmurs thickly against Sonic’s jawline, picking up where he had left off with his teeth grazing the thrumming pulse below cobalt fur.
Sonic inhales sharply and exhales shakily, tilting his head further back to give Shadow better access. “Why?” He asks, his voice only slightly unsteady. “It’s nice to know you missed me, too — even though you’d never admit it.”
And Shadow pauses at that, raises himself until he is level with Sonic, the beginnings of a sly smile curling his lips and a gentle hunger darkening his gaze. He pulls one hand forward from where it was holding him up, tilts Sonic’s chin towards him and places a tender kiss against his parted lips. “I missed you.” He says softly, his sincerity nearly outweighing his sensual tone.
It warms Sonic all over — from his aching lower half all the way up to his rosy cheeks, from the timid drop in the pit of his stomach to the skip in his racing heartbeat. He smiles, genuinely and affectionately, offers Shadow a chaste kiss to his upturned lips. “You’re so sweet.” He says, honest and tender, before playfully following it up with: “I never would’ve guessed.” He bats his eyelashes, snickering as Shadow’s mouth immediately pinches into a scowl.
“You talk too much.” Shadow scrunches the bridge of his nose, fangs bared — but his cheeks are growing rosy and his eyes are too softened for Sonic to feel anything even remotely close to threatened.
He huffs a laugh, clicks his tongue, pulls Shadow downwards until he can speak against his lips. “You know you love me.” He murmurs slyly, knowing there is truth to his words despite Shadow’s sudden insistence to silence them.
This time, Sonic allows it.
Shadow kisses him more softly than he anticipates, a silent but tender acknowledgement and confirmation of Sonic’s statement, a reminder of what is shared between them without having to say it aloud. He pulls Sonic’s pouty lower lip between his teeth gently, lightly sucking against it as he trails his fingertips downwards until he reaches a quivering thigh. Hoisting it up and over his own hip, Shadow presses more of his weight onto Sonic, letting the aching swell below his navel meet its cobalt counterpart with a timid groan.
The dizzying pressure pushes the air from Sonic’s lungs in the form of a moan that Shadow is more than eager to devour, his tongue swiping every sweetened drop from Sonic’s teeth. And Sonic reciprocates to the best of his hazy ability, but the lustful elation that comes with being so unabashedly desired causes him to lack in both precision and composure. His mouth moves fervently in time with Shadow’s, a near desperation evident in the way he whimpers softly between presses — an almost salvation delivered to him by a gentle roll of Shadow’s hips against his own. He gasps with Shadow’s name quickly following it, dripping from his honeylike tongue thick and sticky with need; an unspoken ask for more, a request that Shadow is prepared to indulge.
He is slow and purposeful with his movements, calculated and practiced, skilled by the passage of time and the knowledge of how Sonic likes it best. Each downward thrust meshes black with blue like the night sky meeting the tumultuous sea; alight by the blaze of reflected starlight, every cresting wave reaches higher towards the vast expanse above in desperate longing, separated only by the thin line of the horizon and careful patience.
If Shadow is anything, he is in love with Sonic.
If Shadow is anything else, he is thorough.
And Sonic whines with teetering impatience, wriggling his hips upwards in an attempt at more friction, gasping softly from his place amongst the pillows when Shadow nips at his jawline in reprimand. He allows for Shadow’s name to fall from his kiss-swollen lips like a plea, revels in the way that Shadow shudders in response to it, begs silently for his mouth by tugging at two-toned quills. When it comes to him, it is preluded by a muttered curse, a telltale sign that Shadow’s composure is quickly crumbling, a nudge of motivation for Sonic to diminish it completely.
With his arms still wrapped around Shadow’s shoulders, Sonic pulls each of his hands free from his gloves, tossing them over the edge of the bed and replacing his bare palms upon Shadow’s body. He is warm beneath Sonic’s touch, soft, his suppressed groan muffled where his lips are pressed against Sonic’s — which upturn slowly as he trails his fingertips lower across Shadow’s chest. Threading his fingers through silky tufts of white fur, Sonic hums in content as he feels the skip in Shadow’s rapid heartbeat, as the arms that support him at either side of Sonic’s body begin to tremble, as his lungs stutter with a hitched breath that signifies his inevitable caving to desire. Pushing further still, Sonic gently allows his shortened nails to graze Shadow’s upper abdomen as he licks at sharpened fangs, offering him only a teasing, fleeting dip of his fingertips lower against the heavy swell that threatens to give way.
Shadow inhales sharply, speaks gruffly through gritted teeth: “Spread your legs for me.”
Sonic smirks, gives Shadow one last quick peck upon his lips. “Since you asked so nicely.”
Pulling himself away from Sonic, Shadow retreats momentarily to rest upon his knees as he tugs at his gloves until his palms are free, discarding them to the floor with Sonic’s already forgotten pair. Sonic immediately misses both his weight and warmth, sighing softly as he shuffles his legs further apart, waiting with a hammering heart and bated breath to feel him again. His touch comes not long after, two gentle palms caressing opposing thighs, climbing slowly higher until they reach the pulsating, aching mound below Sonic’s navel. With skilled hands and tender coaxing, Shadow’s steady pressure relieves the swell and unsheathes Sonic from his natural restraints, his dripping length sliding out against his own abdomen. Sonic whines, needy and desperate and nearly squirming, fisting the sheets below him as Shadow takes him into his hand and offers several teasing strokes before removing himself entirely.
Palm sticky with remnants of Sonic, Shadow willingly places two lithe fingers between his own lips, humming in content as he coats them generously in his own saliva.
He pauses only to murmur: “I love the way you taste.”
And Sonic’s pulse is alive with both lust and anticipation as he watches through the heavy droop of his eyelids where Shadow pulls his hand from his mouth and lays himself flat between Sonic’s legs. His dry palm squeezes the tender plush of his inner thigh, while the opposite hand returns itself to Sonic’s body, pressing gently against the warmth of his entrance and sliding his soaked digits back and forth across it. He rests his mouth upon cobalt fur, his quickened breaths further heating the already scorched flesh of Sonic’s inner thigh, pushes his first finger forward in time with a sharp bite as a doting distraction from the discomfort.
Throbbing where he lay across his own stomach, Sonic’s back arches from the mattress as his jaw drops in silent ecstasy, the breath that is sucked from his lungs takes with it the ability to produce sounds aside from a timid, whimpered: “F-fuck.”
It is a feeling he had grown more than accustomed to over the years — a stretch he found himself enjoying, the pleasure derived directly from the knowledge that Shadow is inside of him, even if it is not entirely in the way that he wants him to be.
Yet.
A mere precursor to the ultimate portrayal of vulnerable intimacy, a test of Sonic’s patience for withstanding the delay in finality of their sacred connection. And Shadow is careful, precise, tender — he knows which angles work best and the rhythm that Sonic’s body hums in agreement with, he understands when a change of pace is necessary and can decipher when Sonic’s whines are pitched in an ask for more. He works him open steadily, concentrated as he keeps his fingers moving quicker still, the peppered kisses he once littered across Sonic’s flesh now morphed into heated, open-mouthed presses of his lips. He groans and curses from his place between Sonic’s thighs as he indulges himself in the minimal amount of stimulation he can receive by rolling his hips against the mattress; he is starving, Sonic can feel it in the way that his technique begins to lack and his hands start to tremble.
It boils something molten below his navel to know that only he can satiate his hunger.
Sonic releases his grip on the sheets below him, his fingers achingly stiff from having had them curled into fists for so long. He reaches downward until his palms fall upon two-toned quills, which he tugs at gently with a whine of Shadow’s name.
Shadow looks up at him with a half-lidded gaze that burns a hole straight through Sonic’s dwindling resistance — his pupils are wide and dark, his lips parted and thoroughly chewed. He presses a kiss into cobalt fur, never ceasing his in and out movements as he questions: “Feels good?”
“Not enough.” Sonic huffs an almost-laugh, tightening his hold on Shadow’s quills and arching further back into the pillows as he breathily admits: “Need you.”
He emphasizes his point with a gasped moan as the fingers inside of him falter, and Shadow responds with a shaky: “Fuck, okay.”
Sonic whines in protest as he finds himself empty only moments later.
The mattress creaks and dips as Shadow readjusts himself, returning to his knees and reoccupying the space between Sonic’s trembling thighs. He is quick to silence his own groans by pressing his mouth to Sonic’s, a sloppy and messy half-kiss that is more tongue and teeth than anything else. Sonic hums softly in response to it anyway, a sensual sound that he pairs with soft strokes to the white tufts upon Shadow’s heaving chest, his hammering heartbeat skipping just below his fingertips.
Shadow pulls away first with a huff, desperately reaching between their bodies to apply the necessary pressure to fully unsheath himself, nearly panting as he asks: “Are you ready?”
Sonic smirks, questions him back: “Are you?”
Confusion scrunches Shadow’s features slightly as he begins to verbalize his lack of understanding, but Sonic is always a second faster than he is — the hands upon his chest gently push him backwards, and Sonic is quick to flip their positions. Shadow’s head hits the pillows, his back to the mattress, and Sonic sighs softly as he settles himself across Shadow’s lap with a sly grin.
Shadow swallows thickly, grits his teeth, bares his fangs. “What are you doing?” He asks, attempts frustration, yet his tone is devoid of anything but need.
With his palms still caressing Shadow’s chest, Sonic answers: “You, soon enough. But first…” He trails off, lets his fingertips dip lower across the abdomen that shudders beneath his touch, allows himself to acknowledge the stubborn ache below Shadow’s navel. “I need to take care of this.” His voice is quiet, nearly tender, as he rubs his palm across Shadow’s swollen pouch, clicking his tongue in disapproval as he murmurs: “So pent up.”
He times his statement with steady pressure, chewing his lip eagerly as Shadow slips out into his palm with a breathy moan and an unintentional buck of his hips.
Gasping softly from the subtle stimulation, Sonic pushes further by rolling his hips across Shadow’s lap, sliding his own slick length beside Shadow’s.
“Sonic,” Shadow’s eyes squeeze shut, his breaths choppy and uneven as he half-warns, half-pleads through gritted teeth: “Don’t tease.”
Sonic laughs softly, situates himself higher on Shadow’s lap and slightly raises his hips as Shadow inhales sharply in anticipation below him. “Why not?” Sonic asks, reaching forward to pinch Shadow’s cheek. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
Shadow immediately swats his hand away with a mildly frustrated groan, his brows furrowing when he opens his mouth to retort but instead falls silent aside from a pathetic, shuddered exhale. His lacking coherency is brought on by Sonic spitting into his own palm before reaching behind himself and gently stroking Shadow’s length, coating it generously with his saliva. His thighs tremble at either side of Shadow’s body as he makes quick work of slickening him up before holding him steady as he lines himself up. Shadow scrambles to cling to the little composure he has left, grounding himself by gripping at Sonic’s eager hips as they begin to settle lower.
With one swift push, Sonic sinks himself halfway down, gasping as his eyes flutter shut and his mouth manages a feeble: “Oh, fuck.”
“Easy, hedgehog.” Shadow coaxes through labored breaths and careful patience, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against cobalt hips.
And it is as overwhelming as it is pleasurable — the slow stretch as Sonic takes both Shadow’s advice and his cock in full, the throbbing warmth that now exists inside of him, the way he shivers as he is finally sat flush against Shadow’s lap, using his palms placed on Shadow’s heaving chest to hold himself upright. He keeps his eyes shut as he levels his breathing, his own length pulsing with need where it lay across Shadow’s abdomen, a gentle urging from his body to do what he does best: speed things up.
He chews his lip to suppress a moan as he reopens his eyes and catches the searing, crimson blaze that reignites his drive for pleasure, holds Shadow’s smoldering gaze as he lifts his hips slowly and resettles them quickly. A gruff sound passes through Shadow’s parted lips followed by a curse, his face contorted by pleasure and amusement alike as he selfishly watches Sonic build a steady rhythm.
Panting softly with flushed cheeks, Sonic ups the pace with which he works himself up and down Shadow’s length, each press downward pushing a needy moan from his lungs that mingles with the tender sighs emitted by Shadow. The bedframe creaking below them interjects occasionally, accompanied by soft laughter and sensual utterances of each other’s names. A gasp, a groan, a gruff suppression of a choked whine — a harmonious frequency only they are dialed into, an orchestrated symphony created by love and trust and what it feels like to share them with one another.
A humming buzz below Sonic’s flesh, warm and soft, that travels through each of his nerve endings and sparks like a tenderly kindled flame wherever Shadow’s touch graces him. His hands traverse the contours of Sonic’s body on a well-worn path forged by adoration and maintained through enamoration; he squeezes and caresses the plump of Sonic’s chest thoroughly, trails his fingers downward to aid in rocking his hips forward, reaches back with one hand to gently tug at his fluttering tail.
He smiles warmly from his place amongst the pillows when Sonic falters slightly, his back arching as Shadow’s name drips sweetly from his desperate tongue.
And Shadow encourages him with softly-spoken admittances, tells him he’s so good and to keep going, continues to sift his claws through the fur at the base of Sonic’s tail, dips his fingertips slightly lower to feel where they are repeatedly connected. He gasps when he throbs where he is buried within Sonic, returns his clenched grip to cobalt hips with gritted teeth in an attempt to fight his losing battle against succumbing to pleasure.
But Sonic is too caught up in his own chase for release to notice, too focused on the way sticky, dark fur rubs his cock gently with each roll of his hips, too blinded by the speckled colors he sees as his eyes scrunch shut, too deafened by his own whimpered sobs and labored breathing. The words that leave him are blubbered and unintelligible, the heat that pools in his belly threatens to overflow and drown him with it, bathe and baptize him in waves of ecstasy as he rides out the current created by both love and passion.
He is losing his grip on the frayed tether that keeps him from spilling over, his carefully-crafted rhythm now falling out of tune as his body moves at erratic intervals solely to maintain stimulation. He’s close, he’s so close, he’s so full, so full of Shadow that he almost questions how there was ever a time that he wasn’t.
Shadow breaks his train of thought.
“Fuck, Sonic,” he pushes against cobalt hips, tries to slow their pace, tries to withdraw. “Can’t — Gonna cum.”
“It’s fine.” Sonic decides quickly. “Don’t care.” He gasps. “So close.”
Shadow loosens his grip, widens his eyes. “But —“
Sonic holds up a trembling finger to accompany his statement, smiling briefly: “Just this once. Don’t pull out.”
“Oh, shit —“ Shadow gasps, tilts his head back into the pillows with a moan as his hips stutter upwards. “Sonic — fuck, I’m cumming.”
And as he stiffens within the slick heat of Sonic’s body, Sonic rides out each spurt of warmth that fills him until he, too, comes to the same conclusion.
His nails dig inwards against the overheated flesh of Shadow’s chest as he spills across his abdomen, his cock twitching aimlessly with each understimulated wave that passes through him. His hips jerk forward, a sensitive reminder that Shadow is still inside him, as he reaches the rapturous finality that only Shadow can bring him.
It is quiet for a moment aside from Sonic’s heartbeat within his own ears and two sets of lungs gasping for air.
“Are you alright?” Shadow breaks the silence from where he is still leaning backwards into the pillows, his only movement being his arms raising to cross behind his head.
Sonic huffs a laugh. “Yeah, sure.” He says with an attempted shrug. “Are you?”
Shadow’s head rises slightly to meet Sonic’s gaze. “You don’t sound so sure.”
There is mild concern embedded within his tone, and Sonic reassures him quickly. “I’m so sure.” He laughs again as the flush to his cheeks deepens. “Felt really good.”
Shadow lays his head back down, releases a heavy exhale. “I agree. But I’m still surprised you didn’t want me to pull out.”
Sonic raises a brow, smirking. “Are you pleasantly surprised?”
It takes a few seconds for Shadow to admit it, but he decides on a quietly honest: “Yes.”
“I knew it.” Sonic laughs, ignoring the attempted glare that Shadow throws at him. “I was just caught up in the moment, I guess.” He shrugs, winking at Shadow as he adds: “It’s whatever. I kinda liked it, too.”
Shadow eyes him curiously, but Sonic doesn’t miss the soft spark of interest, the gentle flame that begins to rekindle within his crimson gaze.
His smirk spreads knowingly.
“Shads,” he coos softly, leaning forward until he is entirely within Shadow’s view, effectively reminding both of them of their current sticky entwinement. Sonic chews his lip, makes a subtle offer: “I did say I missed you extra bad today, y’know…”
Shadow grits his teeth, inhales sharply as he bares his fangs: “You are insatiable.”
“Not true.” Sonic rolls his eyes playfully. “But, if you’d rather go drink your cold coffee, that’s —“
“I didn’t say that.” Shadow cuts him off, eyes flickering downward to Sonic’s mouth and then back up again. “You talk too much.”
This time, too, Sonic allows himself to be silenced.