alienmiilk / alientiime's writing blog
i write very slow and infrequently, im just here to have a good time :] currently trying to write sonic. also i talk about non-canon oc sex a lot
nsfw warning ig
Recent-ish
► whiskey-flavoured heartache bllk, nagikuro
► never his, nevermore, in sickness and in health bllk, nagikuro
WIPs
► till voices wake us, and we drown sonadow
► infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing sonadow
► hands on experience wanzuo
"This is... interesting," Sonic says. He traces a finger along the edge of the deep puncture wound on his super form's stomach, watching the way the skin pulls slightly at the touch. "So you can't feel this at all?"
Super Sonic cocks his head to the side. "Not... really? You know how it is. It's all just kind of—"
"—muted," Sonic finishes for him. He does know how it feels: the euphoria that floods his veins when he goes super, the way everything bad feels distant, almost like it's happening to somebody else. Then again, it's not hard to imagine it would be different now, because when he's super he doesn't get hurt. "Why hasn't it healed yet?"
"Who knows?" Super Sonic shrugs. "Maybe we can't heal properly unless we're whole. Maybe it's something about the weapon Eggman used. Could be anything, really."
"Maybe there's something in there," Sonic offers jokingly. He doesn't actually think that—Super Sonic got hit by a laser, why the hell would there be debris in his wound—but the thought is kind of exciting.
Super Sonic chuckles. "Yeah, maybe." He pauses, looking down at Sonic from where he's hovering slightly off the ground. "...Wanna check?"
Sonic startles, looking up from the wound to his double's face. Super Sonic doesn't look concerned in the slightest; he clearly knows just as well as Sonic does that there isn't actually anything in there, so...
"Yeah," Sonic breathes. "Yeah, okay."
Without another word, Super Sonic places a finger on either side of the hole and pulls it open. Sonic watches as his insides are exposed, the pinkish flesh glistening with blood and interstitial fluid. He can't look away, staring as he slowly pulls off one of his gloves and brings his hand up to the wound.
Sonic hesitates for only a fraction of a second before he starts pushing his pointer finger in. The flesh around it is hot, almost to the point of discomfort, but it's also wet and soft and so fucking tight—
A groan tears Sonic from his thoughts. He looks up at his double questioningly. "Hurts?"
"No." Super Sonic's voice is breathy. His eyes are closed, muzzle slightly scrunched. "Feels—immediate."
So not the muted, dull sensation Sonic usually experiences when he's Super. That's—definitely interesting, too. "Good or bad?"
Super Sonic doesn't hesitate. "Good. Really good." He breathes deeply, then lets it out. There's an edge to the sound that Sonic recognizes, hears on himself when he's masturbating and really enjoying himself.
Sheesh. Sonic's head spins. If it really feels that good, then...
Super Sonic makes a sound when he starts to push again, something halfway between a whine and a moan. That sound only makes Sonic feel more confident, downright thrusting the final centimeter of his finger into the hole.
He pauses, then, unsure if this is what they both want—but Super Sonic peels his eyes open, looks down at him with blown pupils, and says, "Keep going."
Infinite has defeated the little blue hero. He's taken him as his prisoner, his prize. Without a doubt, he's won—and yet it doesn't feel like it.
Even though he has Sonic locked up and at his mercy, Shadow is still roaming free. He hasn't paid for what he did to Infinite's squad, for what he did to Infinite. Infinite is hyper aware that Shadow could, at any moment, show up to the Death Egg and try to take what's his.
Sonic doesn't help matters. Infinite mostly lets him suffer in silence, in isolation—but when he sleeps, Infinite observes him. The hedgehog talks in his sleep. Not fearful whimpers, as Infinite would have expected, but sweet, slow calls of Shadow's name.
Even when he's not present, Shadow is still somehow taking what's rightfully Infinite's.
Infinite endures it for several weeks before he finally snaps, throwing open the door to Sonic's cell and stalking inside. The blue hedgehog wakes up slowly, blearily blinking his eyes—though he becomes instantly alert when Infinite lifts him roughly by the neck and slams him against the wall.
The air leaves Sonic's lungs in a rush. He gasps audibly as he breathes in, struggling to take in air around the claw clamped against his throat. It's a sweet sound—but it could be sweeter. It could be Shadow's voice, instead.
Infinite toys with the idea of creating an illusion. The phantom ruby would allow him to superimpose Shadow perfectly over the body in his hold. Even without that, he could turn down the lights; the two hedgehogs look enough alike that they could pass for one another in the half-dark.
Unfortunately disrupting Sonic's circadian rhythm by keeping the lights on at all times is an important element in Infinite's plan to break his spirit. He doesn't want to use the ruby, either. Sonic seems to be able to tell when something is fake—and Infinite wants him to feel real fear.
He leans in, pressing harder on Sonic's windpipe. His ragged breaths stutter, then go entirely quiet. Infinite holds himself there for several long seconds, nose practically pressed against the side of Sonic's head. This close, he can smell Shadow all over him; his scent is a claim, invisible hands on Sonic's body telling Infinite in no uncertain terms to back off, he's mine.
As if Infinite would really let that stop him.
He eases up on the pressure on Sonic's throat and leans back to observe him. Sonic is glaring at him fiercely, eyes watering but not truly crying. The expression still makes satisfaction curl in Infinite's stomach—though he'd prefer seeing it on another hedgehog's face.
His imagination will have to do. Infinitely closes his eyes and leans in, pressing his lips against Sonic's in a rough kiss. Their shapes are similar enough to he really can pretend it's Shadow—especially when sharp canines attempt to bite him when he forces Sonic's mouth open and slips his tongue inside.
Shadow would react much the same, Infinite thinks. He'd struggle, fight back, maybe even manage to overpower him and—
No. No, Infinite would keep him under control. Shadow will be his to command, to do with as he wishes soon enough. Until then, he'll have to settle for claiming his little boyfriend instead.
Infinite can be patient. No matter how long it takes, he'll get his prize eventually.
can i have mephonic hole wound fucking …. For ri…… please…
drabble requests: closed
After he joins with Iblis, Mephiles has all the power in the world to do with as he pleases. What he pleases, at the moment, is celebrating his victory.
He takes Sonic's body somewhere out of time, where it wont decay. A perfect capturing of the moment of his victory, a butterfly under a pane of glass. Sonic is just as beautiful; limp, lifeless, drained of breath and color.
The wound on his back is small, easy to overlook without prior knowledge of its existence. There is no blood visible, the wound cauterized by the heat of the beam that caused it. Mephiles pulls it open further, studying the push and pull of the blackened flesh.
The exit wound on his chest is much larger, about the size of this hedgehog body's fist. Here there is blood, seeping sluggishly out of the spaces where Sonic's burnt skin has cracked and split apart. Mephiles can see inside of him, the crushed pulp of his rib cage, heart, and lungs. A perfect carnage, beautiful and eternal.
Mephiles should leave it untouched, unchanged. He'll want to admire it later, he knows—yet he feels drawn to the wound. It calls to him, urging him to touch, to take what is his.
There is nobody to tell him to stop—nobody who could stop him, even if they wanted to—so Mephiles does as he pleases. He presses two fingers into the hole and rubs them along the edge. Sonic's burnt skin flakes away, revealing more raw red flesh below. It's soft and tender. Slightly warm, still, but cooling rapidly under the god's touch.
Mephiles releases something like a sigh. His body doesn't move, but reality trembles around him, a shudder passing through the air on multiple planes of existence. He becomes aware of people screaming in terror and in pain. Sonic, the hero, does not—cannot—move to help them, so the screaming continues.
Pleased, Mephiles claims more of his prize. He lets the fingers of this hedgehog form melt into something more resembling his true form, tendrils of darkness that expand to fill the wound—and then further still, pushing against the edges of Sonic's hole to stretch it to its limits and beyond.
For the first time since his victory, the body below Mephiles makes noise. A wheezing release of air, what little remained in Sonic's damaged lungs being pushed out of him. Like a little, second death.
Mephiles hums in pleasure. At the edge of his awareness, the screaming increases. The fleeting thought crosses his mind that he would perhaps prefer it if Sonic screamed as well, if he cried and begged for mercy—but this is good as well. Sonic as his prized possession, his piece of art to display, his toy to do with as he wishes.
Mephiles withdraws with a soft sucking noise and watches as the wound regains some of its original shape. It doesn't go entirely back to the way it was. Mephiles would mourn the loss—except that it's almost more beautiful now, shaped not just by his actions but his hands.
The thought pleases him somehow. Even if it's perfect yet, he has eternity to shape Sonic into exactly what he needs him to be.
werehog/super sonic.. fuck or die.. i remain humbly yours.. thank you..
drabble requests: open
Sonic's body has gone through a lot of changes recently, but the fever is new. At first he wonders if it's just part of the whole wolf thing, but if that were the case he figures it would have happened the first night he turned. So maybe he's just sick, but in that case... why the hell—
"I can help you."
Sonic groans and turns away from his super form. It's an illusion. It has to be, because the Chaos Emeralds are still drained—and besides, he's here, isn't he? There can't just be a second version of him floating in the air somewhere.
"Hey. Are you listening?"
"You're not real," he says. Even when his super form floats to his other side to hover in front of his eyes, he stubbornly closes them and refuses to look. There's no way this is real.
His super form hums, sounding amused. "No? Then I guess this isn't real either." He floats closer, close enough that Sonic can feel the feat coming off him as he reaches out to touch—
Sonic bolts upright. In spite of himself, he looks down at his hard dick—and the undeniably real hand wrapped around it. It's weird. Not just seeing what looks like his own hand wrapped around his cock from the wrong angle, but his dick as well. Huge, obviously, compared to it's usual size, but also kinda... spiky.
He finally raises his eyes to look properly at his super form. His double is smiling, bright and boyish—but there's something in his eyes that doesn't match, an emotion Sonic can't quite read. "What the fuck is going on?"
"You're dying," his super form says simply. Sonic's body goes weirdly numb—but at the same time it doesn't quite hit him, doesn't quite feel real.
"Unless, of course—" His double lowers himself down until his face is hovering in Sonic's lap, mouth right above his dick. "You let me help."
If he were in his right mind, Sonic probably would have laughed. As is, with the fever addling his brain, all he can do is blink stupidly. "You wanna suck my dick to save my life?"
Super Sonic chuckles. "Not how I would have put it, but—yeah, basically. When needs must, right?"
Sonic squirms underneath him, a convincing facsimile of somebody trying to escape. Metal isn't fooled. He's barely even restraining him; straddling his thighs with one hand pinning Sonic's shoulder to the ground. The faker could get out from under him, easy—if he could be bothered to try.
Metal knows why he doesn't. His breathing and heartbeat gives it away. His temperature, too, when Metal flicks over to thermal vision. Sonic is excited, body flushed with arousal.
"You sure know how to keep a guy waiting," Sonic says. His voice is breathy, tight with anticipation. "Stop teasing. Just—do it already."
Winding him up like this is satisfying in it's own way—but Metal doesn't want to wait anymore either.
He places his free hand on Sonic's chest. For a moment he just keeps it there, observing the way Sonic's breathing quickens, his heartbeat speeding up. Then he draws back, just enough to place the tip of one sharp claw against his skin.
Organic beings are so fragile; Metal only needs to apply a small amount of pressure before Sonic's skin splits open under his touch. He draws a line, long and thin, watching the way blood wells up from the cut.
Sonic groans, eyes trained on the sight as well. "You're a lot more dangerous than I give you credit for, huh? That's kind of hot."
That—kind of pisses Metal off. It's about time Sonic acknowledged that he's a threat—but it's still not enough. He clearly still doesn't believe Metal could actually kill him.
Metal pushes harder, just to prove a point. The cut becomes deeper; deep enough that Metal can see Sonic's insides, red and glistening.
"Wow," Sonic breathes. "That kinda..." His eyes dart up to Metal's face, then quickly back down to the wound on his chest. "It kinda looks like a..." He trails off. His cheeks flush—embarrassment, not arousal.
Even if he can't finish the sentence, Metal can. It looks like a slit. A pussy, a cunt. Wet and open, just begging for Sonic to push his fingers into it and fuck it.
Sonic looks back up at Metal's face again. Metal's sensors have a larger field of vision than meager organic eyes, but he raises his head to give the impression he's meeting Sonic's gaze anyway.
He's rewarded with the sight of Sonic's eyes going half-lidded, his lips pulling into a slow, seductive smile. "Hey." He bends one of his knees, raises his leg to nudge the back of one of Metal's thighs. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
I came back to your blog to see you're married!! Congratulations!! :DD
Absolutely love your drabbles! Sonilver + touch perhaps?
drabble requests: open
Silver knows Sonic isn't the most tactile person. High fives or fist bumps are usually okay, and so is the occasional slap on the back. Longer touches depend on the day. Hugs are pretty much off the table entirely unless Sonic initiates—which happens very, very rarely.
It's difficult, for Silver. He grew up entirely alone in a desolate wasteland; casual affectionate touching is still a novelty for him, and he wants as much of it as he can get. It makes it hard to remember Sonic doesn't necessarily want to be touched.
What makes it even more difficult is that Sonic does touch him, sometimes. When they're having sex he has his hands all over Silver, grabbing and stroking and squeezing any part of his body he can reach. Then when it's over he just—rolls off, or moves out from under Silver. Sometimes he even gets up entirely.
It's confusing, to say the least. Silver doesn't really know where the limits lie—so he figures it's better if he just lets Sonic initiate every form of touch. He keeps his distance unless Sonic gets close and touches him first—which, almost without fail, leads to sex.
So it's a bit of a surprise when Sonic sits down next to Silver while he's taking a break from gardening, much closer than he usually would—and then just does nothing. This would usually be the time where he'd place a hand on Silver's jaw to turn his head and drag him into a kiss, or push him down flat on the bench and climb on top of him, but...
Now he just sits there, just barely not touching. Silver can feel the heat of his body all along his side, the static charge between them that sets his fur on edge. He stiffens, scared any movement on his part will push their arms together and drive Sonic away.
"Um," Silver says. "Hi?"
"Hey," Sonic says. He turns his head in Silver's direction, a bright smile on his face.
Silver frowns. "Is something going on? If someone needs help, I can—"
Sonic laughs. "No, nothing like that. Just—figured I'd stop by to say hi while I was in the area."
Silver opens his mouth to say something, still a little confused about why Sonic is here and sitting so close to him—then closes it again when Sonic shifts, just enough to press their pinky fingers together.
He stares down at where their hands are touching. No matter how much he blinks, the sight doesn't change. It's their hands for sure, the length of Sonic's pinky finger pressed against Silver's.
Silver looks back up at Sonic. The blue hedgehog is turned away slightly, looking off in the distance. Silver can't really see his face like this, but it doesn't matter. He can still clearly make out the way Sonic's ears are tilted back slightly in embarrassment, as well as the slight flush just barely visible on the edge of his jaw.
Warmth blooms in Silver's chest. Seems like his patience is paying off. All he had to do was wait for Sonic to come to him.
It was supposed to just be a friendly spar, but they end up getting carried away like always. Sonic pins Silver down a little harder than he meant to, one foot planted firmly in between his shoulder blades. Silver's breath goes wheezing out of him. Sonic intends to let him up, then, but Silver groans and it's kinda... distracting, so he forgets—
—and ends up getting dragged away by an invisible force, spun around, and slammed into a brick wall face-first. It's far from gentle; the scraping of the brick against his face hurts, the pressure against the back of his head even more so. He opens his mouth to complain, to tell Silver to ease up, but something sparks in the back of his mind so what comes out instead is more.
After the word leaves his mouth, Sonic freezes. Pressed against the wall as he is, he can't see Silver—but he's pretty sure the other hedgehog must have frozen as well. It would be nice if that meant his telekinesis eased up as well, so Sonic could run away and maybe avoid Silver until they both forget about this entire incident.
He isn't that lucky, of course. Silver's telekinetic hold on him remains as strong as ever during the silence that drags over the next few seconds. Finally, voice trembling, Silver says, "More?"
Sonic grimaces instinctively. He recovers a moment later and attempts to laugh it off, a breathless sort of chuckle. "I didn't mean—"
"I can give you more." Silver's voice is still a little shaky—but the hold he has on Sonic is anything but. He increases the pressure, pushing Sonic more firmly against the wall. Bands of force close around Sonic's wrists, just the right side of painful, and wrench his arms back brutally.
Sonic gasps. A shiver wracks his body. He feels, shamefully, his dick start to harder in his pouch. He attempts to shift his hips, to get just a little bit of friction even if a brick wall is anything but comfortable to rut against—only for Silver's telekinesis to close around his hips like a vise and keep him in place.
Sonic has enough time to groan, just once, before he's being forcefully flipped around. His back slams against the wall, just as hard as before, and it's—good. Really good. He's starting to feel a little weak in the knees, might have collapsed if not for Silver holding him up with his mind.
"You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?" Silver asks. He's standing a few steps in front of Sonic, face flushed and eyes shining. "You haven't won yet. If you want something, you better work for it."
Not like Sonic can do anything, with the hold Silver has on him. He tries just for the sake of it—and then he definitely can't do anything anymore, because Silver's telekinesis pushes against his chest and shoulders so hard it starts biting into his collarbones, and the pain is so good Sonic starts to feel a little light-headed.
Who cares about winning anymore, anyway? If this is the rewards he gets, he'd much rather lose.
sauce….overstimulation 👉👈? if not anything freaky is good
drabble requests: open
"Don't pass out yet," Super Sonic says, stroking a gentle hand down Sonic's cheek. He leans in to press a kiss against Sonic's lips, chaste except for the way he swipes his tongue over Sonic's bottom lip when he pulls away. It's almost sweet. Affectionate.
In contrast, the fingers in Sonic's ass are anything but gentle. The tips prod against his prostate relentlessly, only pressing in and in deeper and never out, even though Sonic just came for—the third time in an hour? He's not actually sure. It could have been five minutes, it could have been four times. All he knows is that it's too much in too little time.
"I—" Even that single syllable sticks in his throat. His mouth is dry, almost painfully so. Fuck, he needs to stop. A break, at least.
Super Sonic doesn't give him one, of course. He just keeps smiling down at Sonic while he fingers him, patting his cheek every time Sonic's eyes threaten to slip closed. "Stay awake just a little longer," he murmurs. "You're doing well. You can take it."
Sonic groans. He's tired and sore and every touch of Super Sonic's fingers feels like somebody is holding a lit match against his skin. Too much, too much—and yet he clings to consciousness by the tips of his fingers, holding on in spite of himself until Super Sonic finally pulls out.
He experiences a moment of relief—but of course it's only temporary. Super Sonic pauses just long enough to coo at him and murmur another praise before he presses the head of his dick against Sonic's rim and slides inside like he owns the place.
It's—hot. Hot like a fever, like an open flame, like a strike of lightning tearing straight through Sonic's body. Too much, too hot, too full, too—
Super Sonic pulls back, thrusts once, and Sonic's entire body lights up. His vision whites out, muscles locking up, dick jerking as he comes again, a miserable dribble of jizz against his own stomach.
No surprise, Super Sonic doesn't let up even then. He sets a steady pace, aiming for Sonic's prostate with devastating accuracy. His only acknowledgement that Sonic came is a laugh, bright and genuine, and his hand on Sonic's cheek again. "See? I knew you could take it."
When he's quiet, Jet is actually sort of pleasant to be around. Racing him is pretty fun. He's kind of easy on the eyes, too, so Sonic doesn't mind fooling around with him—he just wishes he'd stop running his fucking mouth all the time.
Seriously. Even a guy like Jet has to realize that having to listen to your partner talk about himself during sex isn't exactly a turn-on. And yet—
"—definitely would have beaten you," Jet says, in between pants and moans. It's to the point where he seems to be paying more attention to what he's saying than what he's doing, because he's not matching Sonic's rhythm at all. Really, Sonic is doing all the work, rolling his hips against Jet's while the bird just talks and talks and talks. "You're lucky Eggman attacked in the middle, or you would have—"
With a roll of his eyes and a growl building in the back of his throat, Sonic takes a hand off Jet's waist and wraps it around his beak instead. He presses him hard against the wall as he does so, pressing their bodies flush together so Jet can't jerk out of his grasp.
That doesn't mean he doesn't try. Jet makes a startled noise and tries to struggle, only faltering when Sonic slots their dicks against each other and rocks his hips forward.
"Jet," Sonic says, voice low. With his body pressed against Jet's he can feel him shiver, feel the way his feather's puff up like he has goosebumps. "For once in your fucking life, shut up."
Jet makes another noise, offended this time. He's probably trying to say something—you're one to talk, if Sonic had to guess—but Sonic doesn't give him the chance. He picks his earlier rhythm back up, rutting against Jet while keeping his beak forcibly closed.
The only sounds Jet can make like this are indistinct attempts at speech and moans. As they keep going and Jet—finally—actually starts putting in a bit of effort, the attempts at speech become fewer, while the moans increase in frequency. When Sonic uses his grip on Jet's beak to pull his head to the side so he can bite at his shoulder junction, Jet releases a particularly deep moan that shoots straight to Sonic's dick.
Yeah. Sonic definitely prefers Jet when he can't talk.
im actively fighting my wifi as i send this so excuse any accidental duplicates. but i humbly request more super sonic/werehog. just get freaky with it. sonic in the cuck chair was really funny i dont mind if hes there as well. i owe you my life. thank you.
drabble requests: open
a sequel to this
"We've gotta stop meeting like this."
Sonic blinks into awareness abruptly. He locks eyes with his super form for half a second before his eyes are immediately drawn down to where he's being split open on the Werehog's cock.
"Um," Sonic says, eloquently. "Huh?"
"You're probably—mmh—" Super Sonic pauses to moan luxuriously, head tipped back against the Werehog's chest as he rolls his hips into a thrust. "Probably sick of just watching, too, right?"
How could he possibly be sick of something he still hasn't gotten used to? Each time he has one of these dreams it's a surprise, and he wakes up sticky and confused and horny beyond belief. It's honestly kind of miserable.
"Come on," Super Sonic goads him, eyes sparkling mischievously. He brings down a hand to stroke across the obscene bulge of his stomach, the outline of the cock inside of him. "Don't you wanna join?"
Sonic hesitates—and before he can make up his mind, the Werehog curls his torso to speak into Super Sonic's ear, a low growl that Sonic hears nonetheless. "Why do you need him? Aren't I enough to satisfy you?"
Super Sonic hums in pretend thought. He locks eyes with Sonic and winks, smiling slyly like they're sharing a secret. "I dunno," he says, voice playful. "Why don't you put in a bit more effort, so—"
Before he can even finish his sentence, the Werehog lifts him off his dick with a growl and tips him onto his stomach. He lifts Super Sonic's hips roughly and mounts him again, immediately setting a rough and fast pace.
Super Sonic moves against him, laughing and moaning breathlessly as he takes a pounding Sonic genuinely doubts anybody else would survive. He's seen the Werehog be careful before, mindful of his strength, but this is not that; he sets a punishing pace, grabbing roughly at Super Sonic's chest and arms and occasionally slicing him open with his claws. Each cut gives Sonic a glimpse of meaty insides, ruby red with blood, before it heals again almost instantly.
It has to hurt, but Super Sonic only seems to be enjoying himself, moaning throatily every time the Werehog's claws puncture him. During one of those moans he looks straight at Sonic, locking eyes—and then smiles, warm and inviting.
Sonic looks away, dizzy. He's still not entirely sure how he feels about... all this. One thing's for sure, though—he's definitely not sick of it.
Sonic never in a million years would have expected Shadow to agree to this, so the second he gets a tentative yes he jumps on the chance. Getting Knuckles to agree too is almost as difficult as it was with Shadow. It takes long enough that he worries Shadow is going to back out, but eventually he manages to get them both on board.
He shows up to Angel Island shortly before sunset on their agreed date, Shadow trailing behind him somewhat reluctantly. Knuckles is waiting for them at the Master Emerald shrine, fidgety and nervous.
Honestly, Sonic feels a little nervous as well. The first time he and Shadow did this, they kind of stumbled into it on accident, with things progressing too fast for him to have time to doubt himself. Now, though—
"Is this really okay?" Knuckles gives voice to Sonic's thoughts. He looks at Sonic, then past him at Shadow. "You don't look like you want it."
Sonic looks at Shadow as well. He's scowling, jaw set in what seems to be anger. "I don't hate it."
Knuckles scoffs. "That's not—"
"Shadow knows he can just leave if he's uncomfortable," Sonic says. They'd considered, at first, having some kind of safe word, a sign that Sonic should cut it off entirely—but they both know, realistically, that Sonic wouldn't just be able to stop. "More importantly, is it really okay to do this here? Isn't this place sacred?"
Knuckles fidgets. He looks at the Emerald, then into the distance. His gaze shifts to Sonic, then back to the Emerald. Finally, he looks down at the ground between his feet. "It's—fine."
It's clearly not entirely fine—but Sonic isn't here to be Knuckles' therapist. He has a goal to reach, and he'll be damned if Knuckles being his usual self gets in the way of that. So he shrugs and joins Knuckles on the bottom steps of the altar, planting his feet on either side of Knuckles' and tilting his head up with a finger under his chin.
Distantly, Sonic hears Shadow huffs, followed by the sound of footsteps. They stop quickly; he hasn't gotten far. Sonic casts a quick glance around to find him sitting cross-legged under a nearby tree, flashes a quick smile, then turns back to Knuckles and leans down to kiss him.
Knuckles, somewhat to Sonic's surprise, is a good kisser. He's clearly nervous, a little sloppy, but enthusiastic and attentive to Sonic's responses. More relevant to Sonic's goals, he's pretty responsive himself. By the time Sonic climbs into his lap, he's already half-hard, his dick straining against his pouch.
Experimentally, Sonic rolls their hips together. Knuckles feels big even like this, and he can't quite keep himself from letting out a humiliating whines when at the thought. Somehow, that makes Knuckles falter and start to pull away. Sonic figures he's just embarrassed, so he hooks a hand around the back of Knuckles' head and keeps him close as he presses as much of their bodies together as possible.
Knuckles eventually relaxes again. Sonic backs off some, wiggles a hand between them to extract Knuckles' dick from its pouch, and finally breaks the kiss to look.
It's huge, big enough that it takes his breath away a little. Not that long, but thick, especially the four heads. Just looking at it is getting him excited.
For the first time, Sonic glances back over his shoulder to look at Shadow. The black hedgehog is starting intently, glancing between Knuckles' cock and Sonic like he's trying to compare its size to him.
Sonic scoots back a little to give Shadow a better view. He's rewarded with the sight of Shadow's eyes darkening, his pupils going wide even as a vein throbs in his temple. His pouch strains with his own erection, though Shadow's hands remain firmly on his thighs.
Well, whatever. If Shadow still won't admit that he likes watching, that isn't Sonic's problem. He'll just focus on getting what he wants—and he'll make sure Shadow enjoys the show while he's at it.
Sonic knows, in an abstract sort of way, that the Master Emerald has some weird unknowable powers, but this seems weird even for it. He doesn't understand the point of infecting Knuckles with some kind of weird... sex... thing. As a defense mechanism if people try to steal it, sure, but what exactly is the reasoning behind infecting its only guardian? Is the Emerald hoping Knuckles will, what—impregnate somebody with baby Chaos emeralds?
The visual is disturbing; Sonic shakes it from his head and refocuses on what he's doing. Namely, Knuckles—although doing is hardly the appropriate term for a handy. It would probably be faster if Sonic just fucked him, but—even though he's pretty much lost his senses entirely—Knuckles is pretty adamant about keeping Sonic away from his hole.
So, whatever; hand job it is. It's still a lot of work. Knuckles has a ridiculously huge dick; Sonic can't even close his fingers around it. He'd use two hands for more stimulation, but his other hand is occupied trying to keep Knuckles down. And that's a struggle—Knuckles seems pretty adamant to get up, though Sonic couldn't begin to guess at why.
At this particular moment Knuckles is struggling particularly hard. It's the fourth time he's done this and Sonic has learned, by now, that it means he's close. Hoping that this orgasm might be the one to finally shake Knuckles' out of this state he's in, Sonic redoubles his efforts to get him to come. He increases the pressure of his hand, twists his wrist on the upstroke, and pays special attention to the sensitive area right below the heads of his dick. It's as he's digging his thumb between the two middle heads that Knuckles' moans stutter, his breath hitches, and he goes rigid as he comes.
Sonic doesn't relax even as he feels the big guy relax. He stays where he is, holding Knuckles down with one hand and keeping the other around his dick even as cum drips down his fingers. Sure enough, Knuckles starts struggling again only a few seconds later.
"Please," he mumbles. "More."
He looks so out of it Sonic can't help but feel sorry for him. "Yeah, okay," he says, starting to move his hand again. "I got you, big guy."
To his surprise, that doesn't shut Knuckles up the way it has the previous four times. He keeps mumbling, so softly that Sonic has to lean in close to hear him. "Please, I need... Inside..."
Inside? He's been guarding his hole this entire time, so that can only mean—
Sonic's hand stutters. He looks at Knuckles' dick and thinks, slightly hysterically, no fucking way. "Dude," he says. "No. There's no way that will fit in me."
Knuckles, as expected, doesn't respond or even seem to hear him. He keeps writhing and mumbling even when Sonic resumes moving again, keeps doing that all the way until his fifth orgasm—and then, again, starts mumbling about needing to be inside.
Sonic stares at his dick. He thinks, despairingly, about how long he'd have to stretch himself to take a monster like that—then he sighs and starts stroking said monster, which is somehow still hard.
He's just going to have to hope orgasm number six will do the trick.
