Work Text:
Sonic had always been a bit of a thrill seeker, above the standard of what most normal people considered thrilling. It makes sense though. When you were a creature capable of casually reaching speeds others couldn’t fathom without some kind of vehicular aid, the things that normally make a creature’s heart race wouldn't even phase you. Roller coasters were fun to ride with friends, but barely even comparable to the speeds he reaches on his daily strolls. Mountains that took the layman weeks to scale and days worth of planning and preparation, he could ascend those in minutes. Even fighting against Eggman had begun to grow tiresome. Once deadly battles born from the doctor’s desire to wipe him off the face of the planet now reduced to boring and routine spats that Sonic could probably track by calendar, if he felt like it.
All boring, all mediocre, all a waste of time.
But fighting with Shadow was... beyond exhilarating.
Shadow, his counterpart. A creature who, despite the many strides he made to become a better version of himself, still bore such a potent hatred for Sonic, one that bleed into every interaction the shared. Shadow who, through all his pride and claims of intellectual superiority, was so embarrassingly easy to goad into a fight.
And what a fight it would be.
Blood, flesh, and fur flying off them in visible chunks as they tore at each other without restraint. Trees lying broken in half and torn from their roots as their fights see them trampling through empty forests, devastation left gleefully in their wake as they focused on nothing and no one other than their goal to destroy each other.
It was exhilarating. Hair-raising, adrenaline pumping, electrifying- it was everything that Sonic had been missing.
Shadow was his perfect match, in a way. Just as capable, just as intelligent, and almost as strong as him. Even if the outcome of their battles could only end with either one of them winning, the whole experience more than made up for the occasional loss. A satisfying reprieve from the staleness of life, something that filled the void in his chest when things got too monotonous for his liking.
At least it was, for a while.
Eventually, like it always did when he found a new outlet, a familiar boredom began to lick at the edges of his mind. Even amidst the moments where he was actively dodging Shadow’s attacks, it sapped his will to fight and made his moves slow and sluggish.
The easy explanation would be that he simply didn’t see the other as a threat anymore, but Sonic knew better than that. There was something he was missing, something that he needed more of. A desire he couldn't name, but one he recognized when he fought Shadow. A feeling buried deep in his chest that sparked every time he locked eyes with the black hedgehog.
But knowing that it was there didn’t change anything.
Before long, that dull ache of indifference had returned anew, had permeated his new adrenaline rush just like it did everything else he found solace in. Not as potent as yet, but still persistent enough for him to worry about the future.
Sonic had begun to fear that he would lose this too, that his run-ins with the other would fall victim to casual disinterest he maintained in every other aspect of his life.
Until one day he woke, bandaged up and tucked in a bed in Tail's workshop, feeling nothing but complete and utter relief. Like the knot that had been tying itself around his skull had been unwound in one fell swoop. He didn't remember how he got there, or anything after he started fighting Shadow, but the absence of that dull ache made him not really care about the whys. As long as it happened again.
And it did happen again. And again.
And again and again and again.
Hours of time, maybe even whole days swept away from him with no explanation, only receiving temporary feeling of satisfaction in return.
He should probably be more concerned about it. This only proves that the apathy he’s been dealing with isn’t natural to him, that it comes from somewhere that sick and wrong in his body. If he were being honest with himself, he should probably talk to Shadow. Ask if he knows anything about what he was feeling, or more relevantly, what was happening in the gap in his memory where their fights take place. He should, but.
He couldn’t risk losing this newfound control over himself. The endless search for stimulation was over, his life was finally his again. He could enjoy the world like he did before, could spend time with his friends without the constant call for action taking over his senses.
Besides, it was just a few hours out of what? Two or three days out of the month?
Why bother with a little memory loss?
To Fleetway's credit, he hadn't meant to come out like this. Or at all. He didn't even think he could, without the interference of the chaos emeralds.
He was just… bored. Bored of experiencing the filter of someone else’s eyes. Of watching this useless blue idiot go about his days doing absolutely nothing while Fleetway was forced to sit around and watch. Even with the front row seats to whatever fight the dumbass managed to talk himself into, the brief moments of excitement did nothing to ease the apathy building up in his brain.
Things lose their novelty after the first hundred times you seen them, if you’d imagine.
Plus, stuff like that wasn’t as fun when you knew how it would go. Or at least, how half of it would go, since they technically share a brain.
Still, it was fun to judge the guy.
Fleetway had insight that his enemies didn’t have, could see the moves the other was planning before he even executed them. And with nothing better to do, he saw no issue in giving his own little interjections. Scrutinizing the bastard’s lackluster plans and piss poor techniques, screaming his own much more superior ideas into the void knowing full well that he’d never get a response back. Sonic wasn’t weak by any means, but he had a terrible penchant for going easy on others.
Even now in his fight with the arguably-less-obnoxious-but-still-pretty-annoying fake, he could tell the idiot was holding himself back. His moves were definitely still aggressive as all hell, but nothing was lethal. Going full force only to pull back just before making contact, both idiots clearly content with throwing weak ass kicks and punches barely strong enough to break bones. Inconsequential pea-cocking that only served to soothe their egos until the next time they felt inspired to fight again.
That’s what pisses him off the most, he thinks. Sonic could be a lot more terrifying than he currently was, is capable of so much more violence than he allowed himself. And if Fleetway were the one in control, he’d prove it.
No one would even think of stepping up to face him. He’d make the depths of his power known around the world, so much so that no creature would have to courage to even stand in his presence. And if they did, he’d make an example of them. Revel in the musical sound of their screams as he broke their bones one by one. Delight in the feeling of their blood soaking his fur as he tore organs from their chest, shredded muscle, singed nerves. He’d break their bodies so deeply that the next creature would truly have to be out of their mind to try and face them.
But he wasn't in control.
He was trapped. Shut away in the mind of somebody who believed themselves to be some pillar of good nature, stuck being angry and jealous while Fleetway watched the other squander his talent with trivialities. Forced to survive off scraps of adrenaline while his host got to savor the spoils of a real battle directly. Boiling in his jealousy as he follows the momentum of the fight with eyes he couldn’t control.
A punch aimed at the fake's sternum, the blur of the environment as they speed around each other. Narrow dodges and missed attacks repeating in sequence as they go on doing absolutely nothing for what seemed like forever.
He was starting to get real fucking tired of this.
Under different circumstances it’d be him out there, fighting Shadow. It’d be him trading blows with the other, punching the teeth out of his mouth, tearing the quills out of his head, breaking his limbs, shattering his bones.
If it were him, he would've snapped Shadow's neck the second he got his hands around it. Would've have choked him hard enough to hear the bones creak and snap beneath, would've reveled in the struggle as he felt the life leave his eyes, the bleeding out of the his body as each attempt to jerk himself free got weaker and weaker.
He would've... he would've...
Something is different. Something feels different.
And he means that literally. Something feels different, which is strange because Fleetway generally doesn't feel anything. Not pain, not heat, not cold. Nothing.
But right now, he feels everything.
Sonic’s arms are wrapped around something spiky and warm, holding it tight by it’s neck as he fights to keep what ever it is close to his body. There is air blowing against his skin, brushing through his fur and cooling the heated skin all over his body. Fleetway thinks he even feels something squeeze somewhere, uncomfortable and tight beneath his ribs.
Then he actually focuses enough to remember he has the ability to look. He’s not unused to seeing, it’s the one sense he kept in that sterile void of nothing, but something about it has changed. Sonic’s eyeballs move where he wants them to, flitting around nervously at the disturbed earth beneath him, the right side of his vision slightly blocked by a mess of black and red quills. Fleetway wills Sonic’s eyes to blink rapidly, and his confusion deepens when they do just that. Because how could that be?
He feels overwhelmed, vision spinning as every sensation hits him all at once. He can hear and see and smell like he never could before. He can even feel. It’s almost like…
Almost like he's actually out again.
He feels that strange squeeze again, then a noticing a soft thumping beating rhythmically in his ears.
Hesitantly, Fleetway wills Sonic’s head to the sky, neck creaking loudly in his ears as his gaze turns skyward. He blinks as he makes direct eye contact with the sun, notes the burn in his eyes as it blinds him. Still, he stares blankly into it.
It’s… warm. The sunlight is warm, on his skin. Uninhibited by the usual barriers that keep him from feeling it. And he is the one feeling it, he’s sure of it now. He doesn’t know how, but he can make everything out clearly now. The beat of his heart, the ground beneath his feet, the chaos energy flowing through him. Sonic must’ve somehow gathered enough to transform, but how? And from where? Shadow usually kept a chaos emerald on him, but one wouldn’t be enough to-
Fleetway is ripped by his thoughts by something crashing into his nose and ah. He’d forgotten what Sonic was doing here in the first place, that he was in the middle of fighting Shadow, and that the struggling body in his arms could be none other than him. Apparently in his distraction, Fleetway had loosened the grip Sonic had on him. Making enough for Shadow to jerk his had back violently, quills digging into his muzzle before the back of his head made contact with Fleetway's nose, crushing it with a sickening crack.
And fuck did that hurt. Bright white agony blooming across his face in pulsing throbs, a feeling so raw and unfamiliar that it makes Fleetway cry out in pain, hands flying to his face to clutch uselessly at his broken nose. It hurts. It hurts like nothing he’s ever felt before, pain tolerance fizzled to nothing from the years he spent in the vacant recesses of Sonic’s head. He pulls back a hands enough to inspect the damage and spots the viscous smear of red blood that now decorates his gloves, the scent of iron taking over his sense of smell as blood trickles down his face.
…he's bleeding.
He is bleeding. The realization gives him pause, because when’s the last time he did that?
"Sonic?"
Fleetway looks up.
Shadow stands before him. The real him. Not some distant visage that he watches from the back of Sonic’s mind, but an actual physical being, hovering just a few feet away. His expression a mix of apprehension and confusion. His fur looks disheveled, hackles raised in defense as he clearly noticed the shift in Sonic’s posture, but he’s there.
Entirely within his grasp.
Before he can process it, Fleetway begins to laugh. Shrill, maniacal peels of laughter echoing from his lungs into to the sky, guttural and manic as Fleetway realizes what exactly this means for him.
He's free. Free to do or say whatever he wishes, with nothing and no one to stop him. Why bother wasting energy on discerning the logistics?
Now’s the time to for him to make good on his promise.
Fleetway snickers to himself as he steps towards the other. "What's wrong, Shads? Not interested in fighting anymore?" He spreads his arms wide as he speaks, voice a half-assed attempt at an impression of the guy he was stuck listening to for however many years.
Shadow doesn't fall for it, though. His posture is tense, body lowered. Geared for a fight as his eyes dart frantically about “Sonic's” body, likely trying to comprehend how he transformed in the first place. Shadow matches Fleetway’s pace, taking a step back with his every step forward. "Sonic, how- how did you…?"
Fleetway doesn't give Shadow the chance finish. In seconds he is gunning for him, that same maniacal laughter spilling from his mouth as he slams into Shadow full force, tackling him to the ground.
The retaliation is immediate, Shadow’s arms rising up and fists swinging with frantic speed as he attempts to push the foreign weight off him. It no use, though. As much as the other would probably hate to admit it, Sonic was stronger than him in this form, meaning he lost his chance to run the second he got pinned. Shadow doesn't give up, however, choosing to do anything he can to escape. Clawing away at Fleetway's shoulders, kicking his legs in the dirt, flailing his arms into his body, anything he can think of as he tries to throw the other off.
Fleetway continues laughing at him, amused at Shadow's squirming, perched comfortable on his chest as he watches the other with unadulterated glee on his face. It’s almost endearing, how pathetic he looks right now. Eyes blown wide with fear as he tries and fails to keep his composure, rounded ears pinned tightly to his head. He’s even baring his teeth like a wild animal.
It’s all so very cute.
It only makes it all the more satisfying to watch how his face changes when Fleetway snatches Shadow’s arms out of the air, using one hand to pin them into the dirt by his wrists. Without breaking eye contact, Fleetway leans down and sinks sharp fangs into black shoulder, more giddy laughter bubbling up from his throat and out into Shadow's fur as he listens to the other cry out in pain. He pulls away just to watch Shadow’s face twist in agony, eyes squeezed shut as he struggles harder against his binds.
This terrible game of torture continues for ages, Fleetway inflicting deep wounds anywhere he could reach. Digging holes and tearing flesh from his body, just to watch Shadow’s expression as he writhes in anguish. Face gleeful and still echoing that same horrible laughter as he waits for Shadow’s skin seal itself closed.
It makes Fleetway a bit sick, how good Shadow looks like this. Oh so deliciously battered, looking not much different from a cornered animal. Quills frayed and splayed out into the dirt beneath him, some bent and broken in places. There are patches of fur that are burnt and missing completely in some places, hairs singed low enough that the flesh beneath is burnt as well, skin bubbling with blisters and open sores. And the cuts, oh the cuts. Long, deep gashes span the length of his arms and chest, bleeding blue (how fun!) into the black fur around them. His face had been spared, but that’s only because it’d be hard to watch him cry if he didn’t have eyes to do so with.
Shadow had stopped struggling a while ago, deathly still aside from the rising and falling of his chest as pants under him, glaring up with pure disdain in his eyes. He's still tense, on guard for the next injury or the right moment to gain the advantage. Not that he'd get it.
Which brings him to his current dilemma.
Fleetway has won. Technically. He has beaten Shadow into sorry submission, that’s for sure, and could likely continue beating him until Sonic came to, but.
That would be boring.
It’d be boring, and it wouldn’t help with other feeling simmering in his chest. The one had spurred on Sonic’s, and his, desire to fight Shadow in the first place. The one settled deep in his gut when he tackled Shadow to the ground, burning hotter and brighter with every pained grunt or pathetic whimper he managed to claw out of the other.
Fleetway wants to taste him, felt the urge to do so the moment he realized he actually has the opportunity to. He wants to slide his tongue down the Shadow’s throat and watch him choke on it. Wants to lean down to his wounds and lick them clean, just to sink his teeth into the split flesh and tear them bloody.
But he doesn’t want it like this.
So he aims for a different angle.
"Man, ain't this embarrassing for ya'?” Fleetway taunts, “The big bad Ultimate Lifeform, incapacitated in minutes."
Shadow snarls at him, rabid and angry from the beating, spit foaming at the corners of his mouth as he tries to his best to seem as threatening as possible. It only serves to make Fleetway laugh in his face.
"Real cute stuff, Stripes," he jeers, "But as much as I love to gloat, I ain't one to lord my victories over my enemies. Especially not one so weak." He emphasizes his statement by tightening the hand still holding Shadow’s wrists.
"Wouldn't you agree?"
Shadow snarls harder.
"See, I knew you'd understand! So how's about I change the rules a bit?" Fleetway tightens his grip further, taking in the pained expression on Shadow’s face as he squeezes his wrists hard enough to feel the bones rub together. Then, he lets him go, admiring the stunned look on Shadow's face as he floats off and away from him. Backing completely out of his space, giving him enough room to sit up and get his bearings.
Or that was the plan.
Unfortunately for Fleetway, Shadow doesn’t get the memo that he was letting him off the hook. And he doesn’t get to clarify before the other’s skates are lighting up beneath him. Kicking sparks into the air as he blasts backwards into the tree line, leaving scorched dirt and grass in his wake.
Oh well. A little more fun before the main event it seems.
Fleetway floats after him lazily, following the trail of ash and char until it goes dead, opening into a undisturbed clearing and offering no more hints about Shadow’s whereabouts. He could level this whole forest, destroy everything in his path until he finds him, but that would waste the limited energy he has keeping him conscious. So changes tactics, pace slowing to a stop as he focuses his efforts on listening for strange rustling or the sound of footsteps. It’s mostly quiet, save for the occasional chatter of insects, but it’s still difficult to make out anything he could use to find the other. Hearing unfocused and unpracticed as his attempts to filter out the white noise prove unsuccessful.
He groans in frustration as he continues his blind trek deeper into the trees. Hitting things was easy, especially when your target was barely five feet away from you, but trying to use any other sense aside from bling instinct made him feel off balance.
Then he hears something. A step, followed by the soft crunch of grass and leaves under foot. Then another step, then another. Softer than what he was expecting from a guy wearing shoes made out of metal, but much too solid to be an animal. It's patterned, too. Movement lasting for only a few seconds before stopping and shifting to his other side, the change in pace too consistent to not be intentional.
It didn’t take a genius to guess that Shadow was trying to get the drop on him. But instead of using to knowledge to turn the tables on him, Fleetway decides to do the opposite.
He turns his head skyward again, pretending to be frustrated that he can’t find the other, playing up his irritation with exaggerated groans and irritated sighs. He even curses to himself for good measure. A when he hears those footsteps again, he makes sure turn his back to them completely. Leaving himself open and vulnerable.
Shadow doesn’t waste a second, as he hears the moment the other bursts from the foliage, sprinting towards him at full speed.
When he's close enough, he aims a punch directly at back Fleetway’s head. He’s obviously aiming to knock him out, but Fleetway had been expecting that. Fleetway turns around fast enough to catch it before the hit can land, but before he has a chance to gloat about it, Shadow reorients, bringing his other arm around his neck and using the momentum from his swing to bring them both down.
It works, as the shift in weight sends them careening to the ground with a hard thunk, rolling through a few bushes before they slide to a stop. Fleetway doesn't get a second to breathe before he feels Shadow drop bodily onto his chest and sock him clean across the face.
And then he is struck over and over. A barrage of brutal strike after brutal strike, Shadow seemingly unrelenting is his goal to put “Sonic,” or whatever it is he thinks he’s fighting, down.
That's not an exaggeration either, as every solid hit to his head makes his brain rattle in his skull. Even in his supped up state, he can feel the amount of strength the guy is putting into each hit. Brain registering the split second pain as the bones in his face are shattered with out care, his only saving grace being the chaos energy undoing his injuries before they had time to do any lasting damage. If this were someone else, they'd probably be dead after the first punch.
Naturally, he feels the need to joke about it, waiting out the lull in his attack before speaking.
"Man, that other guy is gonna be real sore when he gets his body back." He drawls, the slur in his speech unintentional as his jaw resets itself back into it’s original orientation.
Shadow freezes mid wind-up, the acknowledgement that whoever he had been fighting was actually not the owner of said body bringing him out of his violence-induced stupor. "Who are you? What did you do with Sonic?"
“‘Sonic’ is right here, duh." He smiles, trying to seem as nonthreatening as possible. He even wiggles his arms playfully from where they are pinned under Shadow's legs.
Shadow frowns at him, flexing his fist like he’s about to start hitting him again. Fleetway relents, "Ugh, you’re no fun.”
“The idiot's fine, he’s just uh... taking a nap somewhere."
“A nap?” Shadow questions flatly, raising a brow. His tone is thick with disbelief. He shakes his head, "I have no patience whatever nonsense you intend to spout. You need to bring him back, now."
"What, but we were havin’ so much fun together!"
"I'm not playing your games," Shadow seethes, tightening his grip around Fleetway’s throat. "Bring. him. back."
Fleetway scoffs, "Or what?"
“Or I’ll continue beating you to a pulp,” Shadow threatens, confident. “I’ve been super before, it’s only a matter of time before whatever it is that’s powering you up runs out.”
A wicked smile splits Fleetway’s face. “Sure, you could try, but what makes you think you could keep me down?”
Shadow turns his nose up at him, grinding his knees deeper into the dirt as he says, “I’m doing it now aren’t I? Even if you escaped I could catch you again.”
Fleetway laughs boisterously at that. "Buddy, the only reason you even got the chance to touch me is because I allowed it.” His voice drops an octave then, taking on a more dangerous tone, “If I wanted, I could snap yer neck right here and go on as I please."
“And you could do nothing to stop me.“
Shadow hits him again, but it's with marginally less force than before. Then he goes quiet, arm still raised but his eyes turned to his surroundings, burning holes into the earth like staring hard enough would give him the key to getting out of this without any major sacrific. Eventually, he returns his gaze to Fleetway’s.
"...What do you want?"
Fleetway’s smiles again.
"Look, you and I both know I’m not just gonna let you leave, so how's about we make a deal?" Shadow nods his head, even as his face conveys just how much he’s regretting his decision. Fleetway’s grin goes crooked, "Let me fuck you."
Shadow doesn’t respond immediately, choosing instead to stare at him with a blank look on his face. Blinking owlishly at him as if in the split second of silence, he had grown a another head. Then quietly, he asks, "...Excuse me?"
"Let me fuck you. I know you're dying for it, baby,” Fleetway continues, leering at him openly. “That blue dumbass may be oblivious when it comes to this kinda shit, but I could smell the desperation on you from miles away. And I didn't even have a nose!"
Shadow promptly backhands the fuck out of him, face furious as he glares down at him. Fleetway hisses, licking blood from his teeth at the same time as he feels it rush down to his lower half. “Hot.”
"How I feel about Sonic is none of your business," Shadow seethes.
Fleetway rolls his eyes, "Fine, let’s pretend you aren't desperate for his dick then. I still wanna have sex with ya. If it makes you feel better, just think about it as me propositioning you and not him, yeah?"
Shadow splutters as heat rises to his face, "Propo-?! I am not some- some whore for you to use as you please."
Fleetway takes a moment to slide his arms free, shaking loose dirt from his fur before resting them on Shadow's hips, digging sharpened claws into the supple flesh of his waist, threatening to break skin as he grinds his hardening sheath into the air.
"You sure about that, sweetheart?" Fleetway asks, not missing the way Shadow shudders at the contact, "Because I could make you one satisfied whore, if you’d gave me the chance."
Shadow punches him again, still not as hard as before but definitely painful. It only excites Fleetway more, arousal stirring in his gut and causing him to buck his hips up harder. Shadow's face flushes blue, even as disgust paints his features.
"You are a vile, disgusting, despicable creature," Shadow spits venomously.
"Mmm, what else do you love about me, baby?" Fleetway coos, tone sickeningly sweet as he keeps his pace, noting the growing wetness forming on his stomach with each roll of his hips.
Despite his abrasive attitude and downright hostile body language, Shadow hasn't made a single attempt to leave, face a deceptive mask of indifference even as he watches Shadow’s own sheath begin to swell. Testing his theory further, Fleetway grabs at his tail and yanks, watching the way Shadow's eyes shutter close with what definitely sounds to him like a pleased hiss.
Gaia, they’re gonna have so much fun together.
"Look, I'm giving you an easy out here,” he says, “You let me do what I want with you, and no one else has to get hurt."
"And if I don't agree to your terms?"
Fleetway shrugs. "Well, you tell me. How quickly do ya think you could heal a broken neck?"
Shadow grimaces, finally dropping his fist to rest his hand on Fleetway's chest.
"And I have your word that you'll return Sonic back after you..." he groans in disgust, "Do what you want with me?"
Fleetway raises a hand to his forehead in a mock salute. "I swear on my life!"
Shadow’s grimace deepens, somehow, but it seems like he’s made up his mind. Without another word, he scoots his hips back until they’re positioned directly over Fleetway's, flinching briefly when he feels the bulge of his sheath brush his backside.
"Don't make me regret this."
Fleetway simply nods, smoothing his hands down Shadow's hips and onto his thighs. He licks his lips when the pads of his fingers catch on raised skin, pressing just enough to hear Shadow whine above him, taking his time admiring the way the muscles jump beneath his fingertips. He fits his thumbs into the junction where Shadow’s thighs meets his hips, pressing his thumbs into the bone as his hands spread wide across his thighs, gripping enough for subtle peaks of fat to peek from between his fingers as he guides them into a more purposeful grind.
Shadow does much the same, face still contorted into that displeased frown as he moves his hips along with Fleetway’s tempo, hands planted squarely on Fleetway’s chest as he pushes the flat of his pelvis into the other’s crotch.
Fleetway groans softly at the pressure on his still trapped dick, the feeling bordering the line between too much pain and too little. Shadow’s controlling the pace with practiced precision, timing the press of his hips, forcing Fleetway to ride that line without reprieve.
"Ooh, I, fuck- didn't take you for the forward type, Stripes!" he sneers,a bit breathless but not too horny to taunt his partner. "Been practicing' for the, ugh- the day you finally grow some balls and ask him out?"
He punctuates his taunt with another buck of his hips, claws digging hard enough to break skin this time time, and Shadow doesn't bother hiding how good the sting makes him feel. His head drops for a moment, hanging limply between his shoulders as he loses composure, brows furrowed and eyes bleary as his mouth drops open in a silent sigh of pleasure.
A little ticked off at the lack of response, Fleetway pulls a hand back and smacks Shadow’s thigh roughly. A loud moan slips past Shadow’s lips before he has a chance to stop it, and Fleetway laughs a little as he watches the other's ears pin back in embarrassment.
“You a masochist or somethin’?” he teases, snickering before adding, “No wonder you keep coming back to fight the guy.”
Shadow growls, pointedly ignoring the way his lower half gushes slick at the unkind treatment, "Shut up and get hard already."
He is though. Glancing down between them, Fleetway can make out the rough tip of his cock proudly peeking past the opening of his sheath, and it’s his turn to stifle his moans as it gets caught in the now marginally wetter slide of their hips.
Truthfully, Fleetway feels like he’s going to burst, all the violent foreplay they did beforehand only working to make his arousal achy and sensitive. And with the way Shadow was moving, he might finish before they even got to the main event.
But, it still wouldn't hurt to make him work for it.
Fleetway releases Shadow’s, delectably supple, thighs and reclines into the ground, tucking his arms comfortably beneath his head. He looks down his nose as he speaks, smile cocky, "How ‘bout you get me hard, Stripes?"
Shadow squints at him, murderous intent burning in his eyes, but he graciously decides to take his goading as a challenge. Carefully, Shadow shuffles his hands lower on Fleetway’s body, lifting off his knees and onto his feet as he hovers over Fleetway’s exposed dick. He shifts his weight onto one hand, lifting the other to smooth down his body, massaging the soft mound of fat just above his crotch before it dips lower, rubbing at the seam of his sheath as he spreads it wide. Fleetway bites his lip, eyes tracking the slide of Shadow’s fingers as he watches his opening drip more of that slimy substance down on to his cock. Then he slowly begins lowering himself, and Fleetway flinches as warmth hit his dick.
They both moan in unison when Shadow drops his hips, Shadow’s eyes slipping close as he pops the head in with a loud squelch, briefly circling his hips before pulling off. Resting for a little before doing it again.
It goes on like that for a while, with Shadow rocking himself on and off the head of his cock, forming a comfortable rhythm that does nothing to stave off the tight feeling in balls and they really need to move things along before Fleetway actually does come.
It’s already struggle not to, his hands coming back up to knead at Shadow’s thighs, the muscles in his legs straining as he fights back the knot forming in his gut. It’s so warm. It’s wet and scorching hot and so so soft. He wants nothing more than to sink the rest of his dick into that warmth, but he knows for sure that only one of them would find that pleasurable. The other would probably start punching him in the face again.
"Ugh, Sonic," Shadow moans, and it's so desperately slutty that it almost distracts him from the fact that his fuck buddy called the wrong name.
He slaps Shadow's thigh again, harder this time, delighting in the indignant yelp that the other hedgehog makes before he corrects him. "It's Fleetway."
Shadow doesn't respond, only shudders as he resumes their grinding of hips, more slick spilling from his exposed entrance and down over Fleetway’s cock. “Not used to the name, huh?” he says, smiling as slips a hand between them. “Don’t worry, I’m about to give ya plenty of time to practice sayin’ it.”
He cants his hips back to make room for his hand, threading his fingers between Shadow’s as he searches for the other’s dick. It’s a bit of blow to his pride that the other isn’t even a little hard for him. He’s clearly into it, if his face is anything to go by, so what gives? He spreads Shadow wider with two fingers, cock giving a weak twitch at the whimper Shadow lets out at the stretch, and slides his middle finger into the opening.
His brain goes blank when he presses down and feels something soft. And squishy. Much squishier than any dick he’s ever felt before, which is none, but he keeps feeling around for a little longer. The gears in his head turning as his the pad of finger runs lower into the strange cavity, gliding through that thick slime over dips and bumps before finally stopping over…
A hole.
Oh. Duh.
"You got a pussy?” He asks, sounding genuinely confused as he meets Shadow’s eyes, but the other just glares at him like he’s stupid. Yeah, maybe the slick should’ve given it away, but can you blame him? He hasn’t gotten any action in, well, ever. Not his fault he hasn’t memorized the in and outs of Mobian anatomy. Still, he’s excited as he says, “You gotta let me put it in my mouth next time!"
"Part of my genitalia resembles that of a vagina, yes," Shadow huffs, rolling his eyes before adding, "And there will be no next time."
The with you goes unsaid.
Fleetway shrugs, moving his hand down to press at the sides of he sheath, groaning as each push slides more and more of his cock free. He takes his erection into his hand, using all the excess slick to get his dick wet, stroking it few times before teasing the head into what he thinks is Shadow’s clit. Shadow glances down as he feels it line up with his entrance, pupils going wide as he gets his first real glance at Fleetway’s size. He licks his lips, then, “You don’t seriously think that’s going to fit?”
The implication is a boost to his ego, Fleetway internally puffing out his chest at the comment. "Oh, I know it’s going to, baby," and that's all the warning he gives before he thrusts his hips up hard, burying his cock in to the hilt.
Shadow screams as he’s filled, claws digging retaliatory into Fleetway chest with a guttural hisses, feet kicking out from under his legs as he squirms on top of him. Fleetway can almost see the way Shadow’s muscles clench in unison, body twisted and contorted into a rigid hunch as he recoils from the burning stretch.
Fleetway pats his thigh condescendingly, “See? All in.”
Shadow punches him in the side of his stomach.
"That hurt, bastard," Shadow snaps, brow pulled down into a tight line, teeth clacking shut as he breathes hard through his nose.
Fleetway winces at the less than pleasurable squeeze around his cock. He mumbles a bored, "I told you it was gonna," and gets to work trying to help the other calm down. Not because he cares, it's just hard to get off with the vice grip currently choking his dick.
He doesn’t really know how to relax people though, so he does what he did before. Kneads the tension out of the muscles under Shadow’s skin, where ever he can reach. Digs his fingers into fat, thumbs tracing over the dips between his ribs as he spans his hands wide across the length of his torso, smoothing disturbed tufts of fur back into place.
Eventually, Shadow does relax, tension bleeding out of limbs as he beings resting his weight on him again. Cunt loose enough for Fleetway to move without the the fear of his dick being ripped off, the circle of his hips still slow enough to give the other time to adjust.
It's a lot wetter than he expected, warm slick gushing past the tight ring of muscle around his dick and into the fur around his crotch, every roll accompanied the filthy smack of their bodies squishing together. Shadow seems to be more into now too, body significantly less tense and eyelids droopy with pleasure as he mumbles curses under his breath. He starts to move again too, eventually, lifting up halfway before dropping back down with a low grunt, letting gravity do most of the work. It's rough, though. Pace slow and unsteady, Shadow pausing once every few drops to adjust his posture.
That’s not to say it doesn’t feel good, though. It does, maddeningly so. The slick walls of his pussy felt like velvet on his cock made him feel like he was melting, every squeeze sending shocks of pleasure down his nerves. A deep feeling of want courses through his veins as he watches Shadow ride him. Eyes moving back and forth between Shadow’s face and his pussy, enraptured by every tiny shift in his expression as he impales himself on his cock. Ears zeroed into to the wet slurp his cunt make before sucking him back in, each rise and fall of his hips echoing filthily loud in his head.
But it’s not enough.
Not hard enough, not fast enough, Fleetway just wants more of everything. Needs more. Needs to carve the memory of this moment into Shadow’s brain, wants it to plague his thoughts every time he gets the urge to touch himself. Wants to make it so that every other creature Shadow has sex, including the bastard he shared a body with, would live in his shadow. Striving for a standard they could never reach.
Because they could never fuck Shadow the way Fleetway could.
Without a word he grasps Shadow hips again, using his strength to lift Shadow up at the same time as he pulls back, going until just the tip remained inside…
Shadow blinks at him in confusion, face scrunched into a disgustingly cute pout as he starts speaking, “The hell’s your-”
…Then he drives it all back in, as hard as he can.
Shadow collapses with a shocked cry, arms giving out as he slumps over onto Fleetway's chest, face tucking into the crook of his neck as he goes limp. Evidently didn't feel like doing the work anymore, instead focusing all his energy on moaning his ears off. He’s much louder now, voice high and pitchy as he curses directly into the skin of Fleetway’s neck.
Not that it mattered. Fleetway is distracted, chasing his own high as he continues his rough pace, brutally fucking his cock as deep into Shadow’s pussy as he can get it. Jaw set and teeth grinding together as he slams into Shadow’s womb. Mind and mouth getting away from him as he’s filled with lust and a deep, bitter jealousy.
“What’s so good about that guy, huh?” he questions between thrusts, “He barely even pays any attention to you.” He’s moving faster now, his grip on Shadow tightening as he feels arms wrap around his neck.
“You’re not special to him in any way and you know it. You’re not even friends.” His next thrust hits somewhere deeper and Shadow seizes on top of him, a choked cry rattling in his throat before bleeding into a high pitched keen. His brain registers something like words in the back of his head, but he can’t make out what they are.
“He doesn’t even acknowledge your existence outside of a fight, and you think you got a chance?” There’s something wet soaking into his shoulder. He can’t tell if it’s drool or tears.
“Forget about him, why don’t ya? I’m better any way. I won’t hold back on you, won’t treat you like glass, won’t pretend like I don’t understand the way you look at me.”
“I’m the only one who can stuff this pussy the way you need it,” Fleetway rasps, envy coloring his tone, “I’ll breed this cunt full if you let me, so let me.”
He’s so close now, teetering on the edge, legs burning as he fights to keep his pace steady.
Just a little longer, a little more and he’s there.
“Beg me and I’ll give you everything he won’t,” he pleads, sounding a bit pathetic himself, “C’mon, beg me.”
Shadow sobs into his shoulder, his whole body shaking and trembling. He thinks he’s being ignored again until he hears Shadow whisper quietly into his neck.
“F- Fleetway, please.”
That’s all it takes. Some part of him easing at the same time as the knot in his stomach releases, Thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier as he nears climax. He rubs his face into Shadow's quills, allowing himself a brief moment to enjoy the other’s scent while he has the chance. It’s sweet, earthy, like dug up plants and dirt, and part of him wonders how much of that is actually him and not just lingering debris from their fight.
He’ll miss it, regardless.
"Inside or out?" He asks gruffly, not bothering to slow his thrusts while he waits for an answer. Shadow just shakes his head wildly.
“If ya don’t gimme an answer, I’m picking for you.“
"Out! Out, fuck! You, you can't-" Shadow cuts himself off with a low whine as he scrambles to sit back up, cunt twitching uncontrollably around Fleetway’s dick as it gushes fresh slick and spend.
In one swift motion, Shadow pulls himself off, leaning his arms back on Fleetway’s legs, using the momentum of his hips to grind his pussy against the underside of Fleetway’s cock, riding out his orgasm as cum splatters against both their stomachs.
Fleetway feels the last bits of his stamina drain from as his body goes slack, arms and legs dropping to the forest floor. Shadow is panting above him, chest heaving as his head lolls backwards, trying his best to keep conscious as holds himself up on shaky arms. He tips his head forward enough for Fleetway to see the state of his face, eyes puffy and cheeks streaked with tears and drool and snot. He's not looking at him though, just gazing down at Fleetway's dick with a forlorn expression that makes him chuckle.
Fleetway would guess that the other probably had the stamina the go on a lot longer, if they had the time.
They don't. He can already feel the chaos energy leaving his body, fur on his limbs fading back to that deep blue color as he stares lamely at anything he can, before he loses the ability to see the world like this. The sway of the trees put him in a trance as he stares past the canopy of leaves above them, looking up at the pale blue sky and counting whatever clouds he could see. He feels the soft brush of wind on his face, cool against his heated skin, and breaths in deep. Enjoying the feeling of his lungs filling with air before he lets it all go in one long sigh.
Then he stares at Shadow for a little longer than he probably should.
Fleetway wishes he had more time. Wishes he could say more, do more than just experience the world in these occasional shifts in the status quo. Wishes he had a life of his own, outside of the secondhand experience he got from being in Sonic’s body.
But he was used to wishing things, and he wasn’t expecting them to come true anytime soon.
He steals a glance at Shadow one final time, at the soft expression on his face, and turns his gaze back to the sky.
Well, at least he made things more interesting for himself.
Drowsily, Fleetway says, "Man, that bastard's in for a real surprise when he comes to."
He gives one final puff of laughter as he watches Shadow's face contort into horror, staring down at their dirtied bodies with newfound terror, eyes flitting frantically over the mess of fluids drying into their fur.
Then the world goes black.