#sonicest

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.

"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."

For a single, delirious moment, Sonic thinks he's seeing a shooting star. Only when his double slows down to hover above him does he realize what he's looking at.

Sonic opens his mouth to say something—and no words come out. The only sound he can produce is a sad wheeze, barely audible even to his own ears.

Super Sonic floats a little closer. "You poor thing," he mutters. His expression doesn't match his words; there's no pity there, only a detached sort of interest. He's not looking at Sonic's face either, but his chest—what's left of it, at least. "Have you been here like this the entire time?"

Sonic can't answer, can't even shake his head in response—nor can he do anything to stop his double from floating even closer and cupping his jaw, tilting his head up slightly. The movement should hurt—any movement should hurt—but Sonic only feels numb. A little cold, maybe, except for the spot where Super Sonic's hand touches his face.

"I'm sorry I made you wait so long," Super Sonic says. Again, his voice isn't actually apologetic. He definitely doesn't seem it either when he drags his hand down Sonic's jaw, his neck, to the edges of his wound before plunging it in.

It hurts, but not as much as Sonic was expecting. Mostly it's just hot; hot like pressing his hand flat against the stove, like holding a lighter to his tongue. It makes the rest of him feel even colder, ice in his veins wherever his double isn't touching him.

"Just hold on." Super Sonic's face comes closer to his again, so close Sonic can feel his breath spill over his lips. "I'll make it all better."

He moves his hand like he's trying to stir up Sonic's insides. When he brushes against one of Sonic's lungs, Sonic's breath hitches, then seems to come easier than before—at least until it stops again when Super Sonic presses his lips against his.

It's barely even a kiss. Just pressure and heat against his face, a feeling like a lingering sunburn. Sonic is more focused on the sensation of his double's hand inside of him, moving around and occasionally squeezing whatever he comes into contact with. It's like he's searching for something, though Sonic doesn't know what until he feels that hand brush against his heart.

Super Sonic makes a triumphant noise against his lips and grabs Sonic's heart, closes his fingers around it and squeezes.

Sensation comes flooding back all at once; there's a second of blinding pain, more intense than anything Sonic has ever experienced before. Then an odd sensation of sucking, followed by something like an intense itch all over his body—then he gasps and shoots upright, shoulders heaving with his panicked breaths.

He doesn't dare look down; instead he presses a hand against his chest, almost afraid of what he'll find, but—

Sonic awkwardly clears his throat. "You, uh. You might have mentioned something like that before, yeah."

He's already not the most comfortable with obvious displays of affection, but this—well. It feels a little narcissistic, is all.

"But do you know?" Super Sonic stresses. He tilts Sonic's face towards him; their eyes meet for only a moment before Sonic can't stand it anymore and looks away. Unfortunately, they're close enough that he can't really look anywhere except at his double, the way he's hovering in the air next to Sonic's hammock like he's actually lying beside him. Like they're sharing a bed, or something.

Sonic's mouth goes dry. He tries to turn his head away, but his double's grip holds fast.

"I exist because of you, so—" He finally releases Sonic's cheek; Sonic immediately turns his face away, though he glances at Super Sonic again when his hand settles on Sonic's chest instead.

Sonic's heart thumps against his rib cage. His double can probably feel it, which is—just, ugh.

"It's important to me that you know I love you. And—" Super Sonic moves closer, his breath ghosting over Sonic's fur as he nuzzles against his neck. "It's important that you love yourself, too."

What. The. Fuck.

Sonic pushes at his double's face, doing his best to get him to move. Of course, his double is super, so he doesn't actually manage to make him budge. He just keeps nuzzling against Sonic's neck, closer and closer until—

"Okay!" Sonic yells, feeling a little frantic when Super Sonic presses an honest to everything kiss below his jaw. "I get it! I—" He squeaks when his double kisses his neck again and starts dragging his hand slowly down Sonic's chest, to his stomach and— "I like myself just fine, thanks!"

Finally, Super Sonic stops. He removes his face from Sonic's neck, though he keeps his hand firmly planted low on his stomach. "That's not what I said."

Ugh. "Fine, yes, I—" Sonic grinds his teeth. "—love myself, or whatever. Can you just—stop whatever this is?"

Super Sonic's face twists into an exaggerated pout. "I just wanna thank you for creating me. And..." His eyes flash with an emotion Sonic can't quite read. Slowly, his hand starts moving further down again. "If you really do love yourself, this shouldn't be a problem. Right?"

"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?"