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Heat ripples throughout his entire body. It is not enough to cause him any pain, only minor discomfort. It grows heavier the farther it travels away from the source. When it reaches the edges of his exterior, it does not part with him. It remains, lingering like the ghost of a tight embrace. A quiet huff leaves his lips, an audible indicator of a slowly burgeoning frustration. He makes no effort to cool off or to address the heat, however, even when it gets thicker and thicker like the humidity that hangs in the air before a storm breaks.
It is not a matter so easily ignored, unfortunately, especially when other discomforts compile together one after another. The heat is, after all, not just an illusion of his mind but an actual sensation that causes sweaty rivulets to flow through his fur and quills. There’s a stickiness to it that makes it nearly impossible to wretch himself off the couch he’s been trying to take a nap on. He manages, however, turning himself onto his side. He keeps sweating, and for a moment, there’s a chill across his back from the sweat and the fresh air that is quickly cast aside by the heat reclaiming every part of him.
His paw pats the cushion right in front of him until he’s grabbed onto the pillow his head is resting on. He pulls the pillow. His head thumps quietly as it hits the leather below. He brings the pillow to his chest. He wraps his arms around it as if he were giving it a hug. This action has a purpose when it begins feeling like the heat has morphed into a physical entity inside his body. It is an unscratchable itch, a coiling snake, a frenzied energy. It is something that he cannot truly grasp or control, even when it easily causes him to spasm and tremble. In an attempt to make it stop, he curls even further around himself. He brings his knees upward, crossing his ankles and shoving his thighs together. His arms tighten, squeezing and deforming the pillow’s shape. He buries his face into the top edge, ignoring how this partially suffocates him and makes the heat so much worse along his face.
This physical entity is temporarily abated, but it comes back with both vengeance and permanence. Something between a groan and growl leaves his lips. He decides that napping probably isn’t in the cards for him today no matter how much he wanted it to be. Because this is the unfortunate case for him, he lets his eyes flutter open. He winces when the light strikes his pupil, but it doesn’t take long for his vision to clear. The colors form together to create a visual representation of the living room.
It also reveals that Shadow is right in front of him. The ebony hedgehog kneels on one knee beside the couch, tilted toward it—toward him, more specifically. Shadow does not look at him, though. Instead, he looks at the empty air he’s quietly, cautiously sniffing. When the scent registers in Shadow’s mind, the ebony hedgehog finally meets his eyes (without even a hint of surprise at his eyes now being open). “You smell… off.”
“Gee, thanks,” Sonic mutters. Despite his words, he brings his wrist to his nose. He tries his best to smell whatever scent is permeating from him. He doesn’t smell much, but that’s as bad as if he were able to smell something. There’s only one explanation for this, but Sonic still asks, “Is it already spring?”
“Yes,” Shadow responds plainly.
Sonic audibly groans. He flops onto his back. He doesn’t stay there for long. Once he’s got his elbows underneath him, he pushes himself into an upright position. He swings one leg off the side of the couch. He doesn’t manage to get the other one before Shadow has shifted in front of him. Whether it’s intentional or not, Shadow blocks Sonic’s path. The azure hedgehog arches a brow. Shadow says nothing, but they’ve known each other for too long for Sonic not to realize he isn’t getting away until he explains himself.
Well, he needed to apologize, anyway. “Sorry about the smell. Spring sort of snuck up on me. I should have been more prepared, but it’s not too late. I’ll get out of your quills before anything major can happen.”
“What are you talking about?”
Sonic spends a few seconds wondering how carefully he should consider his words. In the end, he decides that honesty—even blunt truths—would be better than dancing around the topic. “Tails and I have taken to calling it ‘Gaia’s Curse.’ I just get, like, really horny for a little while. It’s a whole thing. But I’ve got a pretty nice cave that I always chill for the duration. It’ll only take a few days. I’ll be back after I take care of it.”
Sonic pushes off the edge of the couch. He steps around Shadow, intent to head toward the back door. Thankfully, his cave isn’t far from the house. At least, it isn’t far for a speedster like him. He’ll be there in no time, long before he loses his composure to Gaia’s Curse. He’ll have everything organized for when something worse than this heat currently burning up the inside of his body descends upon him.
Sonic gets a few steps away before he feels fingers close around his wrist. Sonic glances over his shoulder. Shadow has risen to a standing position. He stares at the ground with a hardened stare. Sonic easily pulls his wrist from Shadow’s grasp. He should continue walking away, but there’s something about Shadow’s expression that makes Sonic’s urge to tease him greater than the impulses demanding that someone (literally anyone other than himself) take care of the currently shapeless, unknowable desire blooming from whatever wretched seed Gaia (or, who Sonic thought Gaia was before he met Chip and dealt with the dark counterpart. Unless Dark Gaia is the one who cursed him. Sonic wouldn’t put it past the primordial entity) has planted inside of him.
Sonic turns around completely. He slides his arms over Shadow’s shoulders, partly curling them around his neck and head. Sonic smiles right in Shadow’s face. The proximity causes Shadow to freeze, but they’ve reached a point in their relationship—whatever their relationship even is—where he doesn’t punch Sonic away without proper cause. This is technically grounds for getting thrown away, but Shadow only settles his paws on Sonic’s sides. The touch stokes a fire that Sonic needs to keep far away from Shadow lest he burns the ebony hedgehog with it, too. Despite this thought in his head, Sonic smirks—somewhere between cheeky and seductive—at Shadow. “Unless you want to take care of it for me, hmm? What do you say—eager to help me out?”
Shadow doesn’t say anything. His expression is blank, but his stare is intense. Sonic’s teasing spirit wavers just enough for desire to flutter past his stomach. Right as it reaches his nether regions, Sonic chuckles sheepishly. He slides his arms back down. He pushes his paws against Shadow’s shoulders until he’s standing apart from the ebony hedgehog. Unfortunately, Sonic’s legs are only going to keep him upright for so long when he’s in Shadow’s presence. Usually, he can stave off the curse for as long as possible, but his fleeting fantasies of his rival have sapped his strength at an alarming rate. Since it will only get worse, Sonic needs to get out of here before he loses his rationality and does something he’ll regret when he comes to.
“Looks like we’ll have to finish this another time. I’ll be heading out. Oh, before I forget, make sure we have a lot of chili dog stuff when I come back. I’m practically starved by the end of it,” Sonic says. It is with a vast majority of his willpower that he forces himself to release Shadow’s shoulders. He tries walking away again. He doesn’t make it as far this time, and he’s stopped in a more permanent way when two arms wrap around his waist. A part of Sonic is grateful since it lets him offset some of his weight onto Shadow, but the other parts of Sonic are sounding the alarm. The curse just latches onto whatever details he can sense about Shadow—the way he feels, the way he smells, the way he acts—and translating them into a temptation to spread his legs for Shadow. He really needs to get away.
“Can I help?” Shadow asks. He doesn’t whisper, but his voice is quiet enough that Sonic really does need Shadow’s arms around him to keep himself from dropping onto the ground.
Sonic turns around as best he can with how weak his knees are getting and how his mind is partially muddled with heat. Shadow, once he realizes what Sonic’s doing, helps him. Sonic knows that seeing Shadow’s face right now is a terrible idea, but he needs Shadow to look into his eyes. He needs to confirm how serious Shadow is being right now, and he needs to make sure that Shadow knows that Sonic isn’t bluffing. Sonic has to blink rapidly to clear his vision enough to see Shadow’s expression.
Once he does, though, he gets the impression that Shadow is being honest. Sonic frowns slightly, brows furrowing together. The growing pain inside his midsection tries convincing the rest of his body to forgo questions and just take the offered relief, but Sonic still has his wits about him. Enough of them, anyway, to speak, “You do know what you’re asking, right? I mean…” Sonic takes a deep breath. He’s starting to feel light-headed and even suffocated. “...what I’m talking about is sex—wait, I mean…” Sonic really needs to get to his cave before he passes out from oxygen deprivation. “...and I don’t know how long I’ll be in the… right mind for…”
Talking hasn’t been this hard since he was a hoglet (selective mutism, Tails used to call it). Still, Sonic thinks he got out everything that he needs to to make Shadow realize what he’s asking and promptly extract himself from this situation (and yes, Shadow will need to do it himself because Sonic knows that he can’t let go right now—and not just because his legs feel too weak to stand on his own).
“I can help,” Shadow confirms. Sonic knows that his own voice didn’t sound normal, but he knows the reason why. Shadow’s voice also seems… different. It isn’t softer so much as breathier, like he’s exerting as little energy as possible to get the words out. The voice has barely enough presence for Sonic to learn anything about it, but he thinks—and this could be lust-driven delusion—that Shadow is horny, too. That he, at least, wants to do this, and it might not have such an innocent reasoning behind it such as ‘helping Sonic.’ It doesn’t even feel like Shadow is doing this to get Sonic in his debt. This is something entirely different. Sonic doubts he would be able to comprehend it during a normal day, but right now, it’s hard enough to keep himself from rutting against Shadow; why should he be expected to think?
Before Sonic can answer—if he even could—Shadow’s face drops into the juncture between his shoulder and neck. The heat increases tenfold from the proximity. When Shadow inhales sharply through his nose, however, Sonic feels a rush of cold that sends a shiver down his spine. With Shadow’s arms still around his waist, he obviously feels the trembling motion, which could be the reason why he continues inhaling. The other reason could be that he’s sniffing Sonic which isn’t exactly impossible. Shadow’s first words to Sonic, after all, were about his scent, and Shadow is known for having enhanced senses. He can likely smell whatever is coming off of Sonic to a greater degree than anyone else.
Consciously, Sonic doesn’t know what this odd scent is supposed to do. He assumed it was just an indicator to tell him that the ‘curse’ had started. Right now, however, Sonic feels so many emotions thrum through him that he suspects it has an actual purpose. He’s happy and pleased that Shadow likes the scent; he feels somewhat victorious that the Ultimate Lifeform was entranced by it. Sonic should have known considering the kind of thoughts that rumble through his mind when the affliction completely takes over his mind.
Sonic’s half-lidded eyes snap open at the reminder. With a shock of strength and self-awareness, he pushes Shadow away from him. He, unfortunately, can’t take his paws off of Shadow’s shoulders, but he does straighten his arms completely to leave that space between them. Sonic exhales shakily. He hangs his head between his upper arms. He unintentionally scans himself. He’s already a mess. Even without the inhales against his throat, he’s still shaking like he has too much energy inside of him. His knees are locked together. This barely hides the sticky, translucent liquid that spills from his hole; the way it’s tinted purple ever so slightly reminding him that none of this is natural. His pouch is swollen, but the pain of his restrained hardness is nothing compared to the mixture of flaming desire and gaping emptiness inside of him that demands something to make it go away. With Shadow—the Ultimate Lifeform and the person he likes so, so much—in front of him, the ‘something’ is quickly morphing into ‘only this specific someone.’
Sonic lifts his head, his embarrassment and shame actually cooling him off instead of setting his cheeks on fire. It isn’t nearly enough to make him stop bouncing slightly like someone impatiently waiting to use the bathroom, but it helps him formulate words despite how heavy his breathing already is. “It isn’t… just sex. I also say a lot of… weird things. Embarrassing stuff. It’s bad. We should—”
Sonic cuts himself off when Shadow leans closer. His face feels Sonic’s entire line of sight. Despite everything going on inside his head and body, Sonic’s vision sharpens. It’s terrible for his health. Shadow has always been good-looking, but this is a whole new level of attractive. Sonic’s lips continue moving despite Shadow’s closeness knocking his voice right out of him (heh, maybe he doesn’t have to worry about saying anything). “What do you say?”
“Umm…” Sonic so eloquently says. He should lie right now. If he can’t manage that, he should distract Shadow with something. He should move the conversation so far away from the reason he decided to attribute this curse to a primordial entity known for fertility. Unfortunately, he’s too busy analyzing the details of Shadow’s face—always coming back to those tan lips—to understand why he should do that. “Just like, uh, begging… a lot… for a lot… and sometimes… er, breeding, I guess… making an offspring or…”
Sonic trails off. Unfortunately, it’s only because he’s lost his voice again and because his head is too fuzzy to think; it is not because he remembers how mortifying it is to want to be bred while in this state. Then again, who can blame him when Shadow’s eyes seem to… flash, so to speak. There’s suddenly more gold and orange in his red irises. Sonic could make the connection to the Black Arms, but he can’t make any connections when Shadow surges forward to lock their lips together.
Now, Sonic has kissed people before. He’s kissed Shadow before, too. But this feels decidedly different, and for more reasons than just the raging horniness puppeting his body. Intense is an apt descriptor for it. Extreme and fiery could also work. Yet, there’s an unexpected method to Shadow’s passion as he keeps them together. Shadow’s controlled chaos is contrasted with Sonic’s chaos-chaos. Spit drips all the way down his chin. His shaking has grown more violent. He might as well have gone swimming with how wet his thighs are. His pouch has almost let its contents spill out, and frankly, his cock itself might be close to spilling its contents, too. He’s getting sweatier with how the heat is increasing. At this rate, Sonic should be looking for relief from all of this, but he refuses to part from Shadow even when his head feels like it’s harshly floating away.
As if he could get away, though. Shadow might have a smidgen more gracefulness in his actions, but he can’t hide his desires even if they don’t have as many visual signifiers as Sonic’s do. There’s only his own swollen pouch and the way he clings to Sonic like he expects the azure hedgehog to have the strength and mental fortitude to wiggle away. Sonic has fallen too far into himself for that to be possible, but he doesn’t mind Shadow’s uncertainty about the whole matter.
Then again, maybe he was right to cling to Sonic because the second Shadow’s thigh brushes against Sonic’s underside, his legs completely give out. He flops onto the couch behind him. He probably would have hurt himself if he didn’t accidentally tug Shadow down with him. With more control over his body, Shadow braces one paw against the back of the couch and uses the other one to pull Sonic forward enough that his head and back didn’t hit the couch as hard as they could have. Their lips, unfortunately, did part when this happened, and although Shadow’s thigh landed on the cushions between Sonic’s own, he isn’t touching anything.
But maybe that’s a good thing. The fall has given Sonic a moment of clarity. He could finally break away. He could go to his cave and sort this curse out himself. He could remind Shadow that Rouge and Omega are expecting him soon (while Sonic did invite Shadow to hang out, he distinctly remembers Shadow saying he couldn’t for long because of those two). He’s already made himself a fool; he doesn’t need to keep doing it.
Every single prepared word dies on Sonic’s tongue because he makes the unfortunate mistake of tilting his head back and meeting Shadow’s eyes. He’s always adored the color. From the moment he first met Shadow, the blistering shade of crimson has captivated him. More than his speed, more than his fighting prowess, more than his inspiring determination—it was these eyes that Sonic found himself thinking about and later fantasizing about. And right now, with the strange mixture of gold and orange splitting through like glowing cracks, Sonic’s heart is yanking itself out of his body to get close to the object of his affection.
But that’s not what has taken Sonic out so thoroughly. It is the expression in those eyes. Shadow has never been particularly easy to read, but an entire world has been opened up to Sonic through Shadow’s eyes. He wants Sonic. It is a desire as intertwined with him as Sonic’s desire (the one not influenced by this curse) is. And it doesn’t end there. Shadow has that same look that he does when they’re in the middle of a very good sparring match. He wants to hurt Sonic. Dominate, consume, enchant—all of it, all at once. Sonic should be feeling terror right now, and maybe he does, but by Chaos does it just make him hornier.
“Please,” He whispers. He folds his arms around Shadow’s neck, pulling him close. While Shadow is working to correct his balance, Sonic continues squeezing and whispering, “Please, please, please…”
He wishes he were saying ‘please save yourself’ or ‘please get away before it’s too late.’ But that is nowhere close to what he’s desperately begging Shadow for. Thankfully, Shadow knows it, too. Once he’s gotten himself in a good position, he cuts Sonic’s pleas off with another all-consuming kiss that is completely lacking in the same tight control from earlier. Its messy nature is only matched by the way Shadow’s paws slide all over the body beneath him. He touches everywhere except the places Sonic needs his touch most, though it isn’t like all the other locations aren’t grateful for the attention.
As much as a conscious Sonic would enjoy this, the one suffering from both arousal and pain decides that they need to continue in some direction before he actually combusts. Sonic manages to pull away. Shadow’s expression crumples into confusion. Sonic doesn’t answer the unasked questions. He shoves his paws beneath him to make himself stand. Shadow moves back to give Sonic the space. He is also right there for Sonic to crash into when his legs remind him why he fell onto the couch in the first place. They both gasp because of this, not just because of all the contact but also because their pouches slam into each other. As fun as frotting against Shadow standing up sounds or as much as he wants to know why Shadow’s pouch is… moving weirdly, Sonic tilts his head back to the hallway and tells Shadow the entire reason he got up. “Bedroom.”
Personally, Sonic doesn’t care where he has sex (he’s been in way more uncomfortable positions than a couch), but Tails could show up randomly despite saying he would be spending a few weeks at a different workshop to work on an ‘important project.’ Someone else could also show up, too, and Sonic would rather not traumatize anyone or embarrass himself any more than he already has today (and he’ll definitely have to clean the couch before they let anyone in).
Shadow makes a displeased noise. Sonic snorts. He should be the one that really doesn’t want to move. Then again, with the way Shadow’s eyes look at the moment, he might be under his own curse-like thing. Sonic doesn’t question it. He just slides his paws down Shadow’s arms to intertwine their fingers. He walks to the side while keeping Shadow attached to him, leading the ebony hedgehog for a few feet. Unfortunately, his knees buckle even before he makes it to the hallway. He smiles sheepishly as Shadow is forced to help him get to the bedroom. The burden should be somewhat lessened by the fact that they start kissing. Sonic’s body probably isn’t going to appreciate being slammed against almost every flat surface like a pinball on their way, but at the moment, the pain gives way to pleasure and Shadow’s obvious desperation nearly makes him orgasm right then and there.
Thankfully, they make it to the bedroom in one piece. It is technically Sonic’s room, but he spends so few nights here that it resembles a guest room that someone left a few miscellaneous objects in. Sonic ignores those momentos from his various adventures as he drops onto the edge of his bed. Shadow remains standing, not too far away but enough that he can start pulling off his shoes and socks without his knees hitting Sonic. Matching the hybrid, Sonic takes off his own socks. Shadow has the decency to put his socks in his shoes and set them against the wall; Sonic just throws his socks somewhere across the room, telling himself he’ll pick them up eventually.
Sonic grabs the bottom of one of his gloves. Before he can pull it off, he sees Shadow. Almost absentmindedly, he’s taking his gloves off with his teeth. Sonic freezes completely, staring with an almost obnoxious intensity. When he’s on his second glove, Shadow finally meets Sonic’s eyes. A quiet gasp leaves Sonic from the eye contact and the slow pull. There’s only a single second when Shadow is confused by Sonic’s actions. After it passes, Shadow’s lips tilt up into a smirk that riles Sonic up in a different way than usual.
Shadow drops his gloves onto the dust-covered nightstand. He steps closer to Sonic, his knees hitting the side of the bed between Sonic’s thighs. One paw lands on top of Sonic’s flesh, his thumb hooking down to smear the curse’s slick or self-lubricant or whatever it is. His other paw grabs onto Sonic’s wrist. He lifts it. Sonic has no idea what Shadow is trying to do until his teeth grab onto the top of his glove. He does the same thing with Sonic’s glove that he did with his own. Sonic almost laughs, and his thighs try closing, only to meet the interference of Shadow’s thigh. There’s just enough pressure to have Sonic aching for more, and then Shadow just has to remove Sonic’s other glove. This fatal combination makes a particular noise drop from Sonic’s gaping mouth—an honest-to-Gaia whimper.
Sonic didn’t know the heat could get any worse, but his entire face shoots up with flames at his embarrassment over Shadow hearing that noise. Sonic’s feverish feelings are not helped along by Shadow’s expression when he hears the noise. Sonic would rather Shadow tease him; at least then, Sonic would know how to respond. But this? Oh, he’s so going to die tonight. But what better way to go than getting dicked down?
Shadow pushes his paw against Sonic’s shoulder, lying him flat on his back. Sonic stares up as Shadow pulls himself over his body. It really doesn’t help with the heat… or the arousal… or the trying to actually think… or the need to be bred. But Sonic literally doesn’t care in the slightest because Shadow’s thigh is finally rubbing him the right way and he’s mouthing Sonic’s neck as if searching to eat the scent the azure hedgehog exudes. He pulls against Shadow’s quills though he doesn’t want Shadow’s lips to part from his flesh. Like this, Sonic feels content to drop away completely into the passion threatening to turn him into ashes.
He almost does exactly that, but he’s shocked back into some awareness by Shadow’s paw prodding along the edges of his pouch. It only takes a few deft strikes to coax his penis out of the folds. Sonic exhales heavily, shaking at the way his and Shadow’s body heat blanket around the appendage. Shadow returns his paw to the side of Sonic’s head. He braces his limbs there, bracketing Sonic between him. His thigh stops, revealing that Sonic was rutting against him in tandem the entire time. Shadow’s smile is too close to serene for this context. Sonic is momentarily glad to see it turn a little more victorious.
His happiness is choked out of him when he realizes why Shadow feels like he’s won. Something warm and wet gently grabs onto Sonic’s penis. It curves around like a ribbon spun around a stone pillar. It has an uneven texture, slight ridges extending from the surface. It continues until Sonic’s entire dick has been covered by it. Between Shadow’s stare and the sensation, broken little noises stream endlessly from his lips. Sonic feels himself inching towards release as the something in question begins moving—spinning up and down like a twisting spring.
Curiosity gets the better of him. Sonic lifts his head as much as he can, looking down in the space between him. Sonic can’t say he’s never fantasized about Shadow, but a tentacle dick is not something he ever considered even in his most outlandish reveries. An actual, unadulterated moan comes from him, loud and breathless. Sonic self-consciously slaps his paws over his mouth, and for the briefest of moments, the part of him that has escaped the rising tides of lust—both natural and curse-created—demands they kick Shadow out immediately to save some face. He does not need his… whatever they are… knowing that he has a thing for his dick—for tentacle dicks in general, maybe, he’s never never actually thought about it until now.
Since he doesn’t need his paws to get Sonic off, Shadow is able to use both of them to grab Sonic’s wrists and hold them against the bed above flickering azure ears. Every noise—even the mortifying ones like whimpers and moans—are unmuffled. They enter the room at full volume. Shadow watches it happen, too, making direct eye contact with Sonic. His eyes are always there even during the periods when Sonic feels so good that he has them closed. For the same reason, the rest of Sonic’s body steadily increases in violent motions. He tugs at his wrists to grab onto something, and his legs start kicking on either side of Shadow’s body.
The ebony hedgehog trusts Sonic enough to release his wrists. Sonic isn’t there enough any more to be worried about Shadow hearing the noises from him—especially when he himself is able to hear similar noises if he concentrates on the way this is all making Shadow feel—so he doesn’t even try to put his paws over his mouth. He just reaches to grab onto whatever part of Shadow he can easily grasp. Content with this, Shadow moves one paw to Sonic’s side and the other to his thigh, stroking both slowly and softly to calm Sonic down. This point is given more evidence by Shadow peppering gentle kisses along Sonic’s face.
The two polarizing sensations are just enough to send Sonic right over the edge. His entire body tenses, and he squeezes Shadow right against him, pulling their chests flush against one another. His body slowly relaxes once all of the cum has left. Once his body flops right back onto the blanketed mattress, Sonic knows that this isn’t going to be enough. The heat is still all-consuming, and his desire for more is intoxicating.
“Sha…” Sonic trails off because when he opens his eyes, Shadow isn’t there. A frown marks his face. Did Gaia’s Curse start giving him hallucinations on top of all the other shit it puts him through?
Sonic’s frown disappears when he feels a cool breath against his thigh. He pushes his elbows beneath him. Shadow hasn’t left him, nor was he never here at all. He’s simply kneeling beside the bed with his paws on Sonic’s knees. He pushes them apart, letting his muzzle get dangerously close to the opening down there. With his tilted head and narrowed eyes, Shadow looks like he’s analyzing it. Maybe he’s curious about the strange liquid spilling out. Maybe he’s calculating how he’s going to fit. The simple thought of Shadow possibly deciding that he won’t cause a feeling eerily similar to panic to jolt through him. In another mindset, Sonic would be surprised that he could feel panic, but as he is, he just wants Shadow inside him already and he can’t stand the thought of that not happening.
The control he has over his muscles is almost nonexistent, but even he can gracelessly reach his paw for Shadow’s head and rise into a somewhat diagonal inclination. He manages the latter, but the former is thwarted by Shadow grabbing his paw. He holds it in place against one of Sonic’s thighs. He then licks the drying liquid spilling across the side of Sonic’s other thigh. Sonic’s foot reaches back to lightly hit Shadow’s stomach. The hybrid looks up at Sonic in a way that makes even more of the strange liquid drip out. Shadow doesn’t comment on that. He instead grits out, “Need to—prepare—”
Sonic has no idea why Shadow sounds like he can hardly get the words out, nor does he have the capacity to care. All his mind is able to do—and this is reluctantly—is realize that ‘prepare’ means that it’s going to happen. Everything else can be damned at this point. He’s going to get what he wants. The curse will be abated, and he will be satisfied.
It’s this reasoning that keeps Sonic from yanking Shadow away when he sticks his muzzle into the source of the liquid. Of course, instead of arguing, he flops back onto the bed. His fingers fold together. He sets it against the space between his eyes. All attempts at controlling his breathing are immediately cut off when he feels Shadow’s tongue inside of him. Now, this is more in-line with his usual fantasies about finally having Shadow, but it’s so much better in real life. How was he supposed to know how good the heat would feel? To have the slick cleared away? To finally have something easing away the coiling, desperate need inside of him that was technically born from Gaia’s Curse but was amplified by the fact that this is Shadow?
It’s a giddy thought. An empowering sensation. Sure, the curse goes on and on about the Ultimate Lifeform being a favorable progenitor and other remarks that Sonic may or may not be whispering under his breath about. Sonic, though? No, the feelings that once twisted along his lust surges forth, superseding it for long enough that Sonic can truly appreciate the situation he’s found himself in.
This wholesomeness only lasts until Shadow’s tongue touches a bundle of nerves that causes Sonic to buck right into his face. They don’t return, so Sonic doesn’t feel a single ounce of apology inside of him as he continues. Technically, though, Shadow is causing these reactions in Sonic, so if he’s upset about being pseudo-suffocated, that’s his own problem. He keeps touching that spot, after all, both with his tongue and occasionally with his finger as he uses as many tools as possible to stretch Sonic open.
That, of course, is the primary goal, but with everything Sonic’s got going on, it should be expected that he would orgasm again. It’s similar to his first one, though the intensity was turned up a few notches. Like before, though, he seems to blank right out of his mind for the duration. He returns slowly, seeing the colors in his vision swim around. In this time, he does not retain clarity but rather a content easiness. The heat has transformed into a gooey warmth, and the stillness of his mind is undisturbed by emotions or frenzied pleas. ‘Good’ might be an efficient word at describing his current state, at least until Gaia’s Curse realizes that he hasn’t actually gotten what it wants—Shadow’s seed.
Chaos, Sonic doesn’t even know if Shadow has orgasmed yet. He doesn’t know how the tentacle dick does it. This realization floods him with coldness, replacing the heat in one swift rampage. The edges of his downturned lips are kissed, drawing Sonic’s attention to the individual he’s been thinking about. Their faces remain close. Once more, Sonic’s eyes are drawn to Shadow’s, but that only serves to make him feel worse. Shadow doubles-down on this by nuzzling close and whispering, “Here?”
“Here,” Sonic confirms, though he’s unsure what Shadow means. Instead of asking about that, he just tugs on Shadow’s chest fur—to get Shadow’s attention, of course, not because he’s always wanted to. “Have you come yet?”
Shadow frowns slightly, looking at Sonic strangely. He stops nosing along Sonic’s face to answer the question. “Can’t.”
Sonic’s brows furrow together. “Why not?”
Shadow doesn’t look happy at being forced to listen and respond, but he gives Sonic an answer while also pressing a paw into Sonic’s stomach… No, lower than that. “Saving. Inside. Have to… inside.”
Sonic hums questioningly. Shadow releases an annoyed sound, though it is different from the sounds he usually makes when he’s peeved at Sonic. With great exertion to find his thoughts, he finally finds the word he’s likely been looking for this whole time. “Breeding.”
Sonic’s eyes widen. Did Shadow hear him whispering? But even if he did, why would he—Oh! The Black Arms! How could Sonic forget about that? Well, the hazy lust fizzling in his mind is the reason why he forgot and also why he didn’t recognize the subtle changes in Shadow’s eyes. But he remembers it now. Shadow, like Sonic, must be under his own ‘curse.’ The circumstances and exact specifications are going to be different, but it’s similar. It’s enough to make Sonic chuckles under his breath. He reaches his arms up around Shadow’s neck. He smiles against Shadow’s lips in something that isn’t quite a kiss. For some reason, he mentions, “I guess that makes us perfect together.”
Shadow hums. “Perfect.” There’s a distinct rumbling from somewhere inside his body that overflows against Sonic. It isn’t quite a purr, but it’s certainly a noise born more from instinct than consciousness. It pleases Sonic all the same as he tries to return the sound. His attempts prove how different the noises are, but Shadow—or his instincts, at least—doesn’t fail to understand Sonic’s intentions.
Shadow grabs Sonic’s shoulders, adjusting them both on the bed. Sonic lies on his back, slightly propped up by the pillows. Shadow continues looming over them. Instead of latching onto Sonic’s penis (which is already hardening at the thought of what’s coming next), the tentacle dick starts poking down below. Sonic sucks in a tense breath. Although frustrated at how long it’s taking, he lets Shadow’s alien biology figure out where the entrance is by itself. By this, Sonic means that he doesn’t guide the tentacle there himself, but he does continuously say Shadow’s name in something between a beg and a prayer.
Perhaps because of this, Shadow decides to help himself. He grabs onto Sonic’s thighs, pushing them up. Sonic grabs onto them, too. Shadow glances down between Sonic’s legs. Once he’s seen enough, he meets Sonic’s eyes. The piercing stare silences Sonic for long enough that he can finally push himself in, albeit slowly. Sonic makes his feelings regarding this known, but Shadow cuts his words off with a kiss. Something about the way he massages Sonic’s thighs lets the azure hedgehog know that Shadow understands what he wants and he’s more than willing to give it if Sonic would simply be patient. Unfortunately for him, Sonic isn’t patient in the best of circumstances, and now he wants Sonic’s patience when the curse is active and the person he’s been infatuated with for years has his tentacle dick inside of him? While the kiss is certainly nice, Shadow should know better than this.
Shadow breaks the kiss. He turns to whisper right into Sonic’s cheek. “Relax. You’ll get what you want. I promise.” He trails down to Sonic’s neck, creating a new path from one side to the other with his mouth. It isn’t enough to distract Sonic from the intrusion, but it does keep him from flipping them or grabbing Shadow to pull him down. “A planted seed, just for you.”
Any other time, he’d beg Shadow to just shut up, but both the muscles inside his hole and the ones in his thigh squeeze tight at such a simple statement—a promise that Sonic never thought he’d get from Shadow, of all people. But damnit if it doesn’t fill both of his heads with more lust than he can hardly stand. His only means of relieving himself from this rapidly increasing heat is to try to kiss Shadow back and to release noises he would have tried covering up not that long ago.
Despite going as slow as he can given the purple-tinted lubricant and his own saliva, Shadow does up pushing all the way in. Sonic almost believes he can feel Shadow’s heartbeat alongside his own when the hybrid lays their chests on top of each other. He settles their forehead in a similar fashion. Sonic can feel his and Shadow’s sporadic breaths mingling, eventually synchronizing. He can see the sweat causing his fur to stand up, and Sonic’s own paws are the reason his quills are in such disarray. Nothing, however, compares to Shadow’s eyes. They are becoming more and more like the Black Arms, yet Shadow’s personal desires are more prominent than any color or shape. More than anything, Sonic wishes he could just climb right inside Shadow’s eyes, live and run and play there without a care in the world.
“Good?” Shadow asks, totally unaware of the odd little thoughts that creep into Sonic’s mind even in the midst of all of this.
Still, Sonic knows enough to nod and mimic, “Good.”
“Ready.” Not a question this time. Even if it was, Sonic wouldn’t have been given a chance to answer. As one does during intercourse, Shadow pulls back—not out, but nearly there—just to push back in. It is the start of a rhythmic process. That alone would have been enough to send slobber down the side of Sonic’s agape mouth and make his head loll back against the pillows, but Shadow’s body going up and down between his thighs is not the only movement. His penis itself moves around independently of the pull-push. It prods along the walls, folding in on itself to make more remove whenever Sonic unintentionally squeezes. It would be absolutely fascinating if Sonic weren’t growing dizzying from overstimulation and want.
But the tentacle wasn’t moving just to move—no, it was looking for something. It was treading every surface, pushing its ridges into every spasming column and groove. It brushes over a singular spot, and Sonic’s entire body squeezes together. A half-broken gasp is punched right out of him. Every part of him tingles desperately, like it was all asleep and is only now just waking up. With a reaction that dynamic, it’s no surprise that Shadow noticed it or that he has something to say about it. He embraces Sonic close and speaks right into his ears (perhaps intentionally), “Found it.”
Between the visceral sensations, the dizziness, and how preoccupied his voice is with sexually charged feelings, Sonic wouldn’t be able to respond to Shadow even if he wanted. It’s a good thing that he doesn’t want to. He just wants Shadow to keep moving—unconcerned if his dick cleaves him open, or if his legs are snapped off his body, or if he loses some of his flesh from Shadow’s biting. He’ll take the pain because the pleasure is more than worth it, and that’s a thought that comes directly from Sonic regardless of whatever affliction he was sewn together with.
“Almost,” Shadow declares. Sonic doesn’t know which one of them he’s talking about. Shadow doesn’t elaborate, either, just gets harder and faster. Sonic supposes he might have been talking about him because this new roughness paired with the constant smacking against that one spot—either with the tip or one of the ridges—gives Sonic just enough to come again. Unbeknownst to him, the chain reaction this causes throughout his body finally forces Shadow to give Sonic what he truly wants. With a cherishing kiss to the forehead, the tentacle releases something that is more than likely the Black Arms’ version of cum. Gaia’s Curse cares little for such distinctions. It accepts the seed it received and finally disappears from Sonic’s body.
If he wasn’t half-conscious from bliss, Sonic totally would have realized how much pain he’s in and how disgusting it feels down below. But as it stands, he just hugs Shadow with loose limbs and a content smile. Shadow doesn’t fight against him. He lies on his side beside Sonic, absentmindedly petting the peach fur along his stomach. They are silent save for their breaths and heartbeats (or an occasional mutter from Sonic as he readjusts himself, never one to stay still for long). After some time, though, Shadow doesn’t break the silence so much as set his words on top of it. “Thank you.”
Sonic hums without inflection. He doesn’t understand the gratitude, doesn’t comprehend the reverence inside of it. He’s barely aware that Shadow spoke in the first place. But he feels deep in his bones that all is right, and the far more pleasant warmth of Shadow’s body sends him tumbling right to sleep.