Chapter Text
Sonic comes to with a headache much like every time he’s slammed face-first into the ground. However, none of those incidents ever knocked him out, and the realization that he’s waking from such an odd situation sets off a sluggish alarm. He struggles to open his eyes, other senses lagging behind, forcing himself to get a better understanding of where he is and why he’s feeling this way.
When he does manage to crack his eyelids open to peer around, he’s somewhere unfamiliar. He can recognize that he’s in a cabin of some kind, and as he blearily blinks the sleep away he starts to realize this place has current occupants, judging by the fire burning in the fireplace and the sounds coming from the kitchen. He’s on a small couch, head propped up on the armrest, and when he tries to turn his head he flinches, groaning, and drags a hand to his forehead. He’s healing fast, but he can tell where a bruise had formed, which meant he’d been hit hard.
He struggles to put together what got him here. He remembers the captivity aboard the Death Egg, and that jackal with the red gem on his chest…Something about alarms and free falling…
Now that he has some control back over himself, Sonic pushes upright, running a hand over his quills. He stretches his neck from side to side, feeling a satisfying pop from things being moved from where he’d been laying for what was probably hours. And, now that he’s steadily becoming aware of himself, a too-familiar gnawing heat begins to slither its way upward.
Sonic pulls a hand down his face and muzzle, not for the first time wishing he could kick this part of mobian biology in the metaphorical pants.
Although mating seasons had gotten much more manageable and even commercialized, they were still a dreaded time for many, considering the inconvenience they provided to life in the present. Time, duration, and even severity varied from species to individual, and in a way Sonic had always considered himself lucky that he got the better end of the spectrum.
Three times a year, for one miserable day, his body would get overwhelmed with the primal urge to breed. However, so long as he satisfied the hormone rush that came from being knotted, he could still have a mostly-average day. Modern mobians had much more sophisticated ways of handling these urges, using whatever toys they could get, and Sonic always got his urges over with as quickly as possible with his own small collection. Sure, it was pleasurable, but he wasn’t the type to sit around all day, with or without a partner.
Without fulfilling his body’s demands though, Sonic knew from personal experience it only got worse, and would keep going even past his triannual season. His heat would continue building, never ending, interfering with more and more of his life day to day until he gave in to what those urges wanted. No mobian had ever lost their head to letting it build, but it was downright annoying.
As to why it chose today of all days, Sonic has no clue. He just woke up in a strange place with no exact memory of how he got here. He doesn’t even know what day of the week it is.
He’s just going to have to pull himself together, thank whoever hosted him, and try to be back to his house within the hour. He wills himself to throw his legs over the side of the couch, shaking his head and quills to get the last of the sleepiness out of his system.
The sound of footsteps draws his attention up, and he perks to see who his apparent savior is.
“Eggman!” he declares in shock as his archnemesis appears in the doorway, “What the heck?”
Robotnik, covered in a blanket over his shoulders, chews through the mouthful of sandwich before saying around it, “Hello, you. You’re finally awake.”
“What’s—“ Sonic tries to shift forward to launch himself off the couch, then instantly regrets the rough friction and settles down again, “What’s going on?”
Robotnik swallows his bite. “I suppose it’s natural you’re confused. You were out for some time.”
“You’re not answering my questions.” Sonic growls.
Robotnik walks further into the room, plopping himself down in a wooden chair at a table across from Sonic. “You crashed my escape pod. The only reason you’re still alive is because I won’t have you freezing to death when I would rather crush you beneath my foot.”
Sonic looks around, just noticing then that all the windows are almost totally blocked out by snow. He can’t feel it because of his hormones, but judging by the fire and the blanket Robotnik is sporting, he can tell it’s probably pretty cold.
“That’s so nice of you.” Sonic sneers, delighting in Robotnik’s displeased expression. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, see you next scheme.”
Robotnik shoo’s with a hand, curling his mustached lip. “Get out of here before I toss you in the fire.”
Sonic gets up, forcing his legs to work, and races out the door, spindashing through the snow until he can race through it to the forest surrounding them. He makes it maybe ten miles before his legs wobble out of control, and he faceplants into the snow. He sinks a couple inches, moaning in anger, before gathering himself and taking in his surroundings and situation.
If his heat is this bad already, then Sonic must have missed his typical mating season day by some time. Maybe the imprisonment had messed up his inner clock, but to his understanding it shouldn’t have interfered with this one. Of course there were numerous other factors that could have contributed, but he doesn’t particularly care to dwell on the what-ifs. All he knows is he has to deal with this now.
It is quiet out here, and Sonic briefly considers just doing it right there and then. However, some deeper instinct whines that it would make him no better than an animal, and while Sonic doesn’t particularly care about exhibitionism he does care about his own self-image. He sits up, brushing off the ice from his fur, frowning with thought.
That meant he could either keep going forward, and hope he found a private but more acceptable spot to get it over with, or…
He shudders. He could go back. It was the less favorable option, but he knew it was likely the more rational one. It was enclosed, and while it wasn’t exactly private Sonic had spotted a bedroom and bathroom that he could seal himself up in. The idea of his enemy being there, a man that regularly tried to kill him and his friends and did the most horrific acts against nature and animals, just made his gut turn. Granted, he didn’t mind Eggman as much as others did, having grown some measure of familiarity with the man over the decades since they’d begun to face each other, but they were still archenemies.
Sonic hangs his head, furrowing his brows with the decision to be made.
A persistent feeling of slick and warmth that’s growing between his legs makes him sigh with resolution, and Sonic gets up unsteadily, orienting himself before he turns around. Along the way, despite trying to run, he spins out of control three times, disturbing some wildlife when he slams into a bush. When he does finally make it back, he finds that the door is still open, but only because Robotnik is trying to shove all the snow that Sonic accidentally let in back out.
“You!” Robotnik snarls, “What are you doing back here? Didn’t you hear me the first time?”
Sonic resigns himself to assist Robotnik in shutting the door, successfully blocking out more ice from piling inside. “Why don’t you leave? Don’t tell me you like to live all woodsy like this.”
“Who said this was mine?” Robotnik asks, hands on his hips, “I told you, you crashed my escape pod, not to mention got my Death Egg absolutely destroyed, and I needed someplace to wait for my incompetent lackeys to pick me up.”
Now bits and pieces of memory are starting to come back to Sonic. He can recall breaking out from his prison, and running through the metallic hallways, trying to find an exit. He recalls the heat of fire and sounds of alarms, and free falling towards the earth…
Actually, there was something else, something that makes Sonic’s fur bristle. He’d intentionally sought out and tried to take Infinite on again, except it went just as poorly as the first time. And the jackal had held him still with those red cubes, leaning over him and staring with that one piercing eye. A gaze that had felt like it was going through him, and slowly winding its way down to where he’d forced Sonic’s legs spread wide.
Sonic could remember the guttural, primal growl he’d made, ears flattening against his head. And he could remember feeling the smirk Infinite had made, even though the mask gave nothing away.
After that, something had thrown both of them sideways, disrupting the hold Infinite had on him. And Sonic had taken that opportunity to run, smartly choosing to end this fight another time. And then came the running through the halls, looking for a way out, and—
Nothing. After that it was just the general feeling of the rush of air and the cold blackness that Sonic knew from memory was space. So he must have broken out and tried to crash to earth, except at some point he’d instead crashed into Robotnik’s escape pod, and sent them both hurtling off to here.
“Look, I just…” Sonic begins, impulsively thinking of a way to word this, “Need a room for like, ten minutes. And then I’ll be out of your mustache hairs.”
“What?” Robotnik says, “No, absolutely not. It was enough of a blow to my reputation to drag your would-be corpse in here, I’m not tolerating your presence any more than I have to. Get out.”
“Yeah, uh-huh, sure.” Sonic eyes the bedroom door, not paying attention to a word Robotnik says. Within the blink of an eye, he’s inside and locked the door behind himself, letting out a small sigh. He hears angry stomping up to the door, and as expected Robotnik pounds on the heavy wood.
“You little brat! Saving your miserable hide was not an invitation for a— a sleepover!”
“Thanks, Egghead!” Sonic calls out, then snickers as Robotnik groans. He crawls up on the bed, curling his nose at the dusty smell, but it’s relatively soft and comfy. He falls on his back, willing himself to relax, immediately getting a hand down to help himself.
While he’d normally use his toys to stimulate his hole and let himself have the pleasureable aspects of masturbating, he doesn’t exactly have easy options here. So he quickly works on getting two fingers in, curling them to brush over the spot that will stimulate the muscle that catches what’s meant for a knot, and thus release the hormones that have him fumbling while trying to run.
He works his fingertips for about thirty seconds, and slowly starts to frown. Nothing’s happening. He keeps trying for another thirty, then stops, opening his eyes to glare at the ceiling.
Sonic shifts in place, making himself more comfortable, and fenagles his hands so one can work his cock while the other still works inside him. The arousal is there, and Sonic has a spark of hope when he feels it start to build, biting his lip to keep from making a sound, but even after a minute it doesn’t go anywhere.
“Uggh.” He groans aloud, stopping his hands. What was wrong with him? His body was demanding for this, but wouldn’t let him handle it himself? He knows his hands aren’t as sturdy or big as his toys, which were far more suitable for knot replacement, but this should work. It had worked in the distant past, before he’d had other options. So why not now?
It looked like he’d made the wrong choice to come back. He needs to get back home and take care of this the way he’s grown used to. But he can’t run in a straight line to save his life.
He’s still deep in thought when the door suddenly swings open, and Sonic’s head jerks up violently in surprise.
“I told you—“ Robotnik shouts, stops, then his face flushes a cartoonish red. Sonic’s hands fly away from himself to grip the sheets instead, and even through his own flushed face he still forms a growl.
“Would it kill you to learn some damn manners?” Sonic snaps, “I told you— ten minutes, tops!”
“I— er, well, uh— Y-You—“ Robotnik’s brain seems to have stopped working, so Sonic considers that a win. If only it were under different circumstances. Sonic grabs a pillow and chucks it, landing a direct hit against Robotnik’s head.
“What, you need a hard reboot or to get unplugged from the socket?” Sonic banters.
Robotnik finally seems to snap back to his senses, shaking his head rapidly like clearing an etch-a-sketch. “I thought your season was a month ago. I assumed you, er, well, in my imprisonment…”
Sonic squints. “How do you know…”
Robotnik, finally coming back to himself, sneers. “I know everything about you, hedgehog. I have attempted to take advantage of such knowledge in the past.”
He is right, Sonic knows of at least three instances where Robotnik had tried to launch an attack or steal an emerald on one of Sonic’s heat days. However, Sonic’s friends were always quick to jump in and stall him or outright stop him until Sonic got his personal matters settled.
It was an odd point of borderline contention between humans and mobians, due to their troubled pasts. Long ago when humans had branched off from ape mobians to begin evolving into their own species, their gestation period and mating rituals began to veer in a different, and much more open sexual direction. Much closer in time than that, humans and mobians had fought frequently, and heats had only made it more complicated, allowing humans more victories than losses. But in today’s time, it was just another function of their species and cultural differences. Some humans could still experience a form of mating season, but it wasn’t anything like a mobian’s.
But Sonic supposes it makes sense Robotnik knows about his seasons, given what the man had said. He does know Sonic well. Contempt bred familiarity, or whatever the saying was.
“Okay,” Sonic says, “Well, considering I was imprisoned and this is a late how-do-you-do from my biology, how about you get out, give me ten, and we never talk about this again?”
Robotnik crosses his arms. “Or perhaps I can stand here and continue to relish in your suffering. A month late? Oh, you poor thing, you must be so uncomfortable.”
Sonic’s eyes narrow to slits, his ears folding back. “You’re about to be uncomfortable unless you get out now.”
“Who says I’d be uncomfortable?” Robotnik retorts, “Perhaps you’re the one who should leave.”
“Fine!” Sonic says, irritated and running out of patience, “Go ahead and enjoy the show!”
Annoyed and determined as always to one-up his nemesis, Sonic shoves his hands back down between his legs, fingering and jerking himself off furiously while glaring dead-on at Robotnik. Robotnik stiffens, like he hadn’t expected Sonic to follow through, and seems to have an internal crisis.
“I didn’t—“ he stammers, “A-Are you really going to—!”
“You said you wouldn’t b-be uncomfortable!” Sonic reminds him, “So? Wh-What’s it gunna be, egghead?”
Robotnik’s fingers are clenched so tight into his blanket he might just tear it. Now Sonic can’t determine if he’s red in the face from anger or embarrassment. And since Sonic is the type to see a weakness in his enemy and take advantage of it (much like the man himself), he keeps going.
“Mm, mm!” Sonic moans, obnoxiously loud, “Yeah, yeah!”
“You are not. Making me. Uncomfortable.” Robotnik grinds out.
“Ooh, yeah, that feels so good!” Sonic continues, sure to pump his fingers to increase the wet sound they make, “I just love jerking myself off! Can’t wait to cum all over myself when I feel a knot pop in me!”
There’s a distinct sound of fabric tearing, and one edge of the blanket falls away and hangs closer to the floor, the torn threads between the man’s tight fingers. Even still, Robotnik doesn’t move.
After an increasingly long and quiet thirty seconds, Sonic finally slows his hands down, blinking with a frown at Robotnik.
“Seriously?” he asks, a little breathy.
“Yes!” Robotnik responds, “You’re not— I was the first one to tell you to get out!”
“And I will! I just—“ Sonic curses silently at his lower half, trying to work his fingers in deeper, as far as he can go, “But seriously? You’re gunna keep standing there?”
“Well?” Robotnik gestures stiffly with a fist that he seems unable to unwind, “Get on with it.”
“Chaos.” Sonic throws his head back against the sheets. “Look. I’d love to too, but…”
He isn’t sure what to say. He isn’t sure he wants to say anything to Eggman, of all people.
“But what?” Robotnik pesters him, starting to sneer, drilling Sonic’s annoyance in further. “A little trouble with being all talk and no show?”
“Yes!” Sonic snaps, baring his teeth in exasperation, “Jeez, fine, I dunno what’s going on but it’s not. Happening, that is.”
Robotnik jolts back in place, expression falling, and for once he doesn’t retort smartly. “What?”
“I don’t—“ Sonic closes his eyes, takes a breath. “I don’t know, ok? And I don’t expect you to get it either, so just…Let me have the ten minutes.”
Robotnik still doesn’t leave. “So what you’re saying is…your heat isn’t breaking.”
“No!” Sonic groans, his anger slipping out all at once, “It’s not! Go tell the presses, the news, whatever! I don’t care! I just want it over with!”
Robotnik continues to stand there, and after a long, silent moment he suddenly comes towards the bed. “Very well.”
Sonic backpedals, curling reflexively. “What the hell! What do you think you’re doing?”
Robotnik’s nose twitches, ruffling his mustache. “Since you clearly don’t know what you’re doing and I want you out of here, I have a solution to both of our problems.”
“I do know! Wh-What I’m doing!” Sonic protests, uneasy as Robotnik heaves himself onto the bed at the opposite end of Sonic, “I sure as fuck don’t need your help, whatever it is!”
“If I didn’t know you any better, I’d say you were determined to make a fool of yourself.” Sonic can practically hear the eyeroll in Robotnik’s voice. “Or maybe that is what you’ve been trying to do.”
“Go suck on a plain hotdog!” Sonic snarls venomously.
The edge of Robotnik’s mouth twitches like a hint of a smile, but it’s quick enough to vanish. “Tell me, what other choices do you think are available to you?”
Sonic won’t admit it, but the man has a point. He could still try to make for the next civilization, wherever that is, and find his way home, but it seems too far away, and his heat is clawing its way through his insides. It’s making his thoughts whirl faster than normal, but leaves them nowhere to go.
“A-And?” he challenges, “What choice are you offering?”
Robotnik makes a slow show of peeling his right glove off, flexing his bare, calloused fingers in the air. Sonic’s eyes move cautiously between them and the man’s face, looking for just what Robotnik was hoping to get out of this for himself, because there had to be something. Some leverage or trick Robotnik would pull, and…and…
Well he isn’t sure yet. He’s also not as against the idea of Robotnik offering as he’d thought he would be. Some ugly, primal, hedgehog ancestor instinct perked at the sight of those thick fingers before him, but he’d be damned before he acknowledged that.
“And?” Sonic asks, “How’s that going to help?”
“Perhaps you’d be shocked to learn this,” Robotnik sneers, “But I am a mechanical genius. I’m quite familiar with working with stubborn machinery. My fingers are much more dextrous than you give them credit for.”
Sonic continues to stare, long and hard, but in some involuntary motion his legs start to unwind, and Robotnik takes it as a sign. Without warning he reaches forth and grabs Sonic’s ankle, tugging him forward and closer. Sonic yelps in shock, quills tearing through the sheets, readying to curl himself in for defense and attack. He makes it halfway before it becomes clear Robotnik is not about to try and kill him. At least, not in an obvious way.
Robotnik presses his other hand up to Sonic’s groin, enveloping it entirely in the width of his palm. Sonic can’t help a startled gasp that squeaks by, especially when he feels two fingers slide alongside and then push into his entrance. The stretch is enough to make him stiffen on instinct, fur rising along the tops of his shoulders. Robotnik keeps going, keeps pushing in, and then he curls his fingers and grinds his palm down against Sonic’s cock and—
Sonic’s legs slam locked around the man’s forearm, the hedgehog’s head falling back to the sheets as he lets out a sound from somewhere he didn’t even know was buried in his gut. His spine arches as white-hot currents of pleasure race up between the quills on his back, his mind going a million miles an hour and yet no thoughts at all are actually processed. His instincts and body sing with pleasure in chorus together, finally feeling relief as the endorphines are blissfully released.
He collapses against the sheets what surely must be years later, staring up at the ceiling with wide, unseeing eyes, aware of nothing at all but the fact that he just had the singularly best orgasm of his life.
“I think I’ve made my point.” Robotnik’s voice draws him back unpleasantly from the wonderful buzz Sonic’s sunk into, and Sonic only processes what he’s said when he tries to pull his fingers out, not that he probably could with the tight clench Sonic has on them.
“Fuck off.” Sonic bites out, but on the exact opposite end of the spectrum of emotion his legs squeeze around his enemy’s arm tighter, keeping it in place. Robotnik arches a brow at Sonic, who just makes a half-assed indignant huff.
He rocks lazily on Robotnik’s fingers, which he can still feel curling inside him, drawing out more sparks of pleasure up from his sex. He can also feel his cock twitching against the man’s palm, the rough texture of the skin gratifying with the slick from Sonic’s arousal.
“Y-You don’t get credit for that round.” Sonic says, getting his frayed mind back together, “That was just using what I’d already built up.”
“And couldn’t finish.” Robotnik replies simply, “But if you insist, after that performance of yours I think I’m quite safe with mine.”
“Go and…go and get a perm for your stache.” Sonic replies lamely, unable to put himself back together enough to think of something more poignant.
“Hm.” Robotnik hums smugly. “After all these years, I finally found a way to shut that smart trap up.”
“Only ‘cause you can’t succeed in any other way.” Sonic is happy to snark back, smirking.
His grin only grows at Robotnik’s frown, but it turns into a yelp when he’s suddenly dragged up by his leg, arms flailing until they land on the doctor’s thigh. He’s now held up at an angle, Robotnik draping Sonic’s knee over his shoulder. Sonic hisses in a short burst of pain as Robotnik twists his fingers around in him, shifting his hand but keeping it in Sonic.
“Do feel free to scream, or plead if you feel so inclined.” Robotnik sneers, then fastens his lips around Sonic’s cock.
“Ohhhh—“ Sonic moans, pushing himself up on his strained hands towards Robotnik’s mouth, feeling orgasm rushing to him again. A part of him doesn’t want to let Robotnik “win,” whatever idea of winning this was, but most of him doesn’t care anymore because his greatest enemy’s mouth is around his cock and it’s nothing short of incredible. He’s never going to confess to anyone that this moment is going to be at the forefront of all future fantasies in his seasons. When Robotnik sucks on it hard, it makes a wet, filthy sound that has Sonic’s blood pumping like they’re fighting all over again.
He comes again shortly, the rush of it causing him to slip from his fragile balance on his hands, swinging his head and quills down. The awkwardness breaks the pleasure, especially when Robotnik breaks off to make a high, pained shriek.
Sonic tries to re-orient himself, dizzy with his endorphines getting confused, Robotnik also trying to shove him off in clear anger. One of Sonic’s hands lock onto something, and Robotnik absolutely freezes.
Sonic blinks, groping in curiosity, before realization hits. Where Robotnik had let his blanket fall had covered most of his legs, so Sonic couldn’t see what had evidently been going on under them. But now it’s more than evident under his hand, and Sonic finds himself grinning giddily like a child finding a new toy to show off to other children.
“Knock that off!” Robotnik yells, pushing Sonic back down to the sheets, hovering over him now, “As soon as you— let go—“
“Not as unaffected as you like to think, huh?” Sonic taunts, delighted to have needled in and found another point to rile up his nemesis.
“Insufferable—“ Robotnik spits out, but Sonic notices he’s not trying to remove his fingers so much as he’s pretending to, but he’s still moving them in and out of Sonic jerkily. “Rotten—“
“And you are gunna make a stain in those pants.” Sonic points out, starting to pant as the rough treatment starts to build up another orgasm, more slowly this time.
Robotnik’s free hand goes for his throat, but Sonic snatches it in mid-air and pins it to the sheets instead.
“Maybe this is doing both of us a favor, huh?” Sonic ponders, “When are you gunna get a chance like this again?”
That makes Robotnik stop, like Sonic’s words were a shock to him. His expression morphs into something noticeably more stormy, and suddenly he yanks his hands back to himself. The sudden sensation has Sonic gasping again, feeling empty too soon, and his brows furrow as Robotnik shifts off the bed.
“Suddenly wake up and smell the bacon, Eggman?” Sonic says, irritated again, “Or am I too much for—“
Robotnik’s already undone his pants, tugging Sonic around on the bed so their hips are— for once— almost aligned. His cock dwarfs Sonic’s by comparison, though the girth is what gets Sonic’s mouth to suddenly run dry.
Sonic has had his seasonal and non-heat partners here and there, even a few human woman who caught his eye. But right then he’s wondering why he never considered this option before. The fact it’s his archnemesis just sets his blood pumping hotter for reasons he’d rather not examine.
“Shut.” Robotnik growls, dark and low, making the fur on Sonic’s back rise. He pushes Sonic’s legs wide, not that Sonic resists him, wrapping one hand around Sonic’s waist and the other around his cock, guiding it in to Sonic’s entrance. “Up.”
Sonic winces, even with hearty and eager arousal jumping in his veins, the stretch more than what he’s used to with his own toys. But somehow, the inherent nature of it all— the pain and pleasure mixed together, the fact that it’s Robotnik pushing him beyond his limits once again, the danger associated therein of letting his enemy get this close— helps more than words could say, and he takes uneven and full breaths to make himself relax, letting Robotnik sink further in.
“Haah, hah,” Sonic wheezes, his cocksure attitude faltering under strain, “Th-That the best comeback you got?”
“Better than— than ‘Fuck off.’” Robotnik says, his ever-present self compsure also faltering given his voice lilting, “Always so…mouthy…”
Robotnik pulls back an inch, then shoves himself in harder, and Sonic feels it punch through him, shoving the breath out of him. He’s never felt this full, this wholly taken apart at the seams and only wanting more. He isn’t afraid he might break— no, that would be too easy for Robotnik.
His nemesis knows him, enough to know he could take this and still come back swinging. Just like every blow they exchanged in battle, every machine Robotnik made in effort to kill him, it was laced with the undercurrent of the complexity of their antagonism towards each other. So many things that Sonic never thinks about, but feels deeply and inherently.
And he knows his nemesis well enough to understand he feels the same.
So it’s with that attitude that he wraps his legs as far as he can reach around Robotnik, sure to dig his heels into the back of the man’s hefty thighs and under his ass. He grips the sheets tightly in his hands, putting on a fresh smirk.
“C’mon, that all y-you can do?” He teases, “I’m feelin’ like a delicate little flower here…”
Robotnik takes it, hook and line and sinker, scowling harder. He stops only to yank Sonic’s legs off from around him, then forces them backwards and holds them down, effectively folding Sonic in half under him. The new position has Sonic making guttural grunts with each pounding thrust into him, eyes unfocused as his thoughts scatter under the crushing weight of the most primal, unfettered pleasure his body has been screaming at him for.
He comes again, riding the swell of climax like others might ride a rollercoaster. He’s had other partners, gotten used to his toys, but nothing compares to this: the combination of everything boiling down to the heat-driven urge to be completely, utterly, stuck.
Sonic lazes bonelessly under Robotnik, flopping like a ragdoll as the man groans and tries to shift, but is just as locked in place by Sonic himself. Not that it matters much; Sonic can feel the man’s cock pulse against the hold, and where hot cum now seeps out and down the crack to his tail. He makes an instinctual whimper at that, his baser brain knowing that being knotted means to take it.
He drifts back realizing he has a line of drool coming out the side of his mouth, not helped at all where his tongue is out, and he tries to compose himself a little better under his enemy. Although the man doesn’t seem to notice, head bowed as he rocks his hips and Sonic in place on the bed.
His oversensitive nerves start to fray, so Sonic squirms to snap Robotnik’s attention back up to his face.
“Gotta say, didn’t come back here expecting this.” Sonic states, “But guess it worked out for both of us.”
“Who said anything about me?” Robotnik groans, letting go of Sonic’s legs and leaning back up with something loudly popping in his back. “Ooh, that’s better.”
Sonic shuffles up to his elbows, arching a brow. “I get my heat outta the way, and you got lucky. Win-win.”
Robotnik scoffs from behind his teeth. “Tch. This was nothing more than getting you out of here. However,” and at this he sneers anew, “I would hardly blame you if you did come crawling back.”
Sonic rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself that much. You’re the one who wanted to watch me jerk off.”
“I did not want—“
Finally, the muscle in Sonic’s hole relaxes, and he draws himself back and off with a solidly sticky pop, shuddering as sensation leaves him. He feels ruffled and dirtied and truly sated, especially watching as more warm cum leaks out around his thighs. Robotnik seems to take a second to come back to his train of thoughts, frozen for a second, but then abandons it to also step back and tuck himself away, his face unreadable once more.
“Well, it’s been…fun, I guess.” Sonic half-shrugs, not sure what to say. Normally he’s better about the smooth talking to his partners, but this is Robotnik. He’s positive neither of them want to acknowledge this ever again.
“Now I’m rethinking rescuing you...” Robotnik grumbles, but Sonic hardly hears him finish the sentence. He’s darting into the bathroom to wipe himself off with a towel in a second, then out the door and on his way home in the next.
He’s smiling the entire run back.