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Shadow’s day had been uneventful. He was covered in injuries, not entirely unusual for him. Sonic’s little cabin in the middle of nowhere was peaceful. And Sonic himself was… pleasant.
Shadow lays down on the bed, letting Sonic descend over him. He feels his heart stutter happily in his chest despite himself, feeling Sonic’s warm gaze and warm paws settle on his body. Shadow is held kindly, with concern and appreciation. Hands cup his face and a soft pair of lips covers his, pressing a warm kiss in greeting. Shadow lets out a long breath from his nose and urges himself to at least lift one paw to reciprocate the touch properly.
Sonic hums into Shadow’s mouth as fingers card through his back quills. Shadow relishes in the feeling, parting his lips slightly, giving Sonic more access. The hands move from his face for a moment, only to return bare, without gloves hindering the feeling. The silky pads of Sonic’s thumbs press into Shadow’s cheeks. Tension bleeds out from his body.
Shadow has multiple wounds today. He was consciously slowing the healing of them all by diverting his chaos energy away from his injuries. It meant that the numerous cuts on his body were still sluggishly bleeding. There is a long, curved line down the length of Shadow’s inner left wrist. His palm is nicked, the pad sliced through so that it hurt to make a fist. On his right, his shoulder bears two thin, bleeding lines, carving down towards his chest. Horizontally over his belly, starting from his side, five claw marks, dragged right over where Shadow would have a belly button if he were naturally made. They were clearly deeper on the right, curving all the way around to his left side, a grisly belt that ached every time he moved. On his left thigh, another long, deep cut down towards his knee. Another three shorter ones on his right thigh, closer to his hip. Bruises littered his body, covered by his fur.
Sonic’s kisses gradually slow. He gets one last taste of Shadow before pulling back. To Shadow, he looks as if he’s glowing. His teeth peak out from behind his lip as he smiles down at Shadow. Unable to resist, Shadow feels the corners of his mouth quirk up in return.
Sonic’s gaze feels even more painful than the wounds as he catalogues each visible injury. He sits up and gently takes Shadow’s hand, examining open cut on his paw pad. “This one looks nasty,” Sonic murmurs, thumb absently brushing through the fur around it. Just close enough that it didn’t hurt, but enough to feel significant.
“Accident,” Shadow replies quietly, his eyes never straying from Sonic. He observes intently as Sonic lowers his head and rasps his tongue over the bleeding cut. It stings, burns, but Shadow’s head tips back and he resists the urge to sigh with bliss. His eyes flutter as he watches Sonic carefully clean the wound, the pain fading into a warm, syrupy feeling that Shadow basks in.
When Sonic finishes with Shadow’s palm, his hand moves to gently take Shadow’s wrist. He cradles it, fingers pressing in with just enough strength, just enough tenderness. He tilts his head at this cut, perhaps considering his formidable size, maybe wondering how it got there. Sonic then begins to lick it clean. His nose twitches, likely at the taste of Shadow’s blood, but he continues.
Shadow eyes threaten to shut entirely, his body falling limper and limper into the mattress with each steady touch. It feels even better for this wound specifically. It had been open and bleeding since he’d cut himself that morning on a kitchen knife, unable to scab as Shadow kept halting and blocking his body’s attempts at healing it. His chaos energy had been getting the better of him for most of the day too, so Shadow had reopened it a few times himself. The relief of finally letting it be taken care of, of letting it start to heal under Sonic’s soothing guidance was a heady, wonderful feeling.
Sonic’s thumb slips and presses into the wound. Shadow’s breath hitches and he bites his lip to keep himself quiet, heat blooming in his face. Sonic’s expression grows vaguely concerned, but when Shadow says and does nothing, he doesn’t push.
“My bad,” Sonic chuckles lightly, pressing a soft, apologetic kiss to the unharmed fur closer to Shadow’s paw. “Won’t happen again.”
Shadow makes a rumbling noise somewhere deep in his throat, unable to get his tongue to move or his mouth to open. He takes a fortifying breath in through his nose and is met with the scent of his blood. More importantly, however, was the smell of citrus, patchouli, and cedarwood. Shadow resists the urge to sit up and burrow his face in the crook of Sonic’s neck. He wants to stay here for as long as he can, wants to feel Sonic’s presence, hear his calm breathing, look at those lime green eyes, have his care and attention, forever.
“Kinda a shame you don’t scar,” Sonic mumbles as he moves his head towards Shadow’s wounded shoulder. His nose twitches again, though Shadow guesses this time it’s because Sonic’s closer to his neck. “This one’s wicked.”
Shadow feels a burst of both pride and shame warring inside of him, making his stomach turn. Sonic fingers leisurely brush alongside both of the scratches and the feeling increases tenfold. It makes Shadow feel something close to nausea, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Sonic’s fingers follow the drying trails of blood down to Shadow’s chest, where his palm presses for a moment. It’s right over his heart, on the wrong side to everyone else in the world. But now it’s perfect. Shadow’s heart pounds hard against his ribs, trying valiantly to burst from his chest and into Sonic’s waiting paw.
It doesn’t. Shadow is tempted to dig his claws into himself and pull it out anyway.
Sonic’s bright eyes meet Shadow’s, a smile playing at his lips. The hand moves away from his chest, taking a hold of Shadow’s bicep, thumb rubbing little circles. His tongue meets Shadow’s shoulder, right between the two cuts, and Shadow squeezes his eyes shut.
Slow, steady laps of Sonic’s tongue work Shadow’s fur flat and lift the drying blood. He cleans the wound and gradually moves downwards to lick away the mess that had trailed down Shadow’s chest.
Shadow comes close to tearing the bedsheets as Sonic peppers a few kisses over his beating heart. It jumps and skips in his chest, once again trying to surge free. Sonic remains as relaxed as ever, nose brushing through Shadow’s now slightly damp fur before pulling back. He examines his handywork for a short pause before nodding to himself.
Sonic’s paws brush down Shadow’s sides, unhurried. He stops at the wound across Shadow’s belly, expression twisting a little as he takes another look at it. “Where’d you say you get these from?”
It takes him too long to even register that a question had been asked of him. He had been floating. “I didn’t,” Shadow answers, thankfully managing to compose himself enough to not make a fool of himself. “Metal Sonic.”
Sonic whistles lowly. “Damn, he had it out for you this time.”
Shadow nods, the motion becoming a little jerky as Sonic’s thumbs brush down near his wounds. He had fought Metal Sonic today, that wasn’t a lie. But Shadow would never let the robot get in a hit such as this. He was far too good of a fighter for that to happen. “…I antagonised him,” he says slowly. Also, not a lie.
“Dude,” Sonic snorts out a quiet laugh. “C’mon, he’s got it bad enough already.”
“You are far too sympathetic,” Shadow says in reply, eyes flicking down to Sonic’s paws before jumping back up to Sonic’s face. Of course, Shadow was also someone Sonic was too sympathetic towards, but that only meant Shadow’s words held more weight.
“Maybe.” Sonic shrugs nonchalantly. One of his fingers traces the edge of one cut, idly, as if he’d forgotten they were real and on Shadow’s body. “Are you complainin’?”
Shadow closes his mouth before an embarrassing noise can escape him. His whole body feels like it’s on fire. He can barely sense the injuries now, everything feels warm, slow, and good. Shadow shakily inhales and breathes out, “No.”
Sonic hums, smiling a little cheekily. “Thought so.”
Shadow watches, perhaps too eagerly, as Sonic moves down the bed. He spreads his legs apart to make room for Sonic, who lays down on his front between them to bring his face closer to Shadow. Sonic’s warm hands settle on Shadow’s waist, pressing into bruises that he can’t see. Shadow’s heart feels close to giving out. He just barely bites back a whine before it can escape.
Gradually, Sonic cleans the wounds. These were by far the largest today, about the length of his forearm, five different slashes to match five claws. Sonic works on each one at a time, starting from the first, head slowly moving from right to left, before moving down to the second.
Shadow’s head feels light. He could purr, scream, cry, but all he does is watch in near silence. Pain lances through Shadow’s torso with each lap of Sonic’s tongue. He is close to drowning in it, close to sinking down and never coming back up for air. But Shadow knows Sonic would worry.
“You good there?” Sonic checks when he’s halfway done with the third cut.
Shadow has resorted to staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling, too overwhelmed to keep looking at Sonic. He wants to grab Sonic and pull him closer again. He wants to cut himself open and let Sonic clean him inside. He makes a wordless noise of agreement, something between a grunt and a groan.
Sonic’s ear flicks. “You make the prettiest noises when we do this,” Sonic murmurs with a teasing smile. “Should I be worried you’re enjoyin’ this more than you should be?”
The way Sonic’s breath fans over the cuts makes Shadow squirm against the mattress, just enough for Sonic’s gaze to lock onto his waist. His face burns with shame and something pleased. “No,” Shadow refutes as soon as he can manage to speak again. “It’s fine.”
Shadow doesn’t think he would be able to handle it if Sonic stopped now. He is mortifyingly close to begging.
“If you’re sure…” Sonic says, playfully unconvinced. But then he licks a long stripe down towards Shadow’s pelvis.
Shadow’s paw pad explodes with pain as his claws tear into the sheets. His body jerks up as if to chase the sensation before he quickly restrains himself, hardly able to keep himself from crying out. Sonic’s tongue drags over the raised, inflamed wounds, over and over the tender skin. Tears spring to Shadow’s eyes and he hurriedly blinks them back. His pain tolerance was usually much greater than this. He has lost whole limbs before without shedding a single tear. Why now must he be so pathetic?
Sonic’s voice fades in over the rush of blood in Shadow’s ears.
“Shit, baby, did I hurt you?” Sonic asks, lifting his head with a frown audible in his voice.
Of course he had noticed the tears. Why did he have to speak so kindly? Baby. It was a rare little term of endearment that Sonic used for him, and him only. Frankly, it was usually more to annoy Shadow than anything. But right now, Shadow feels like he could wail.
He hurriedly shakes his head, finally bringing his gaze back down to meet Sonic’s. Shadow can’t bring himself to say it.
Don’t stop. Please. Please. I need this. Please.
Sonic’s expression softens into one he never usually sees, one that Shadow can’t name. It brightens every inch of the room. It makes Shadow feel unequivocally wanted.
“Alright, alright, it’s okay,” he reassures with a smile. “We’ve got a few more to go before we’re finished, right?”
Shadow nods unsteadily, hesitantly loosening his fingers from the bedsheets.
Sonic returns to his slow, methodical cleaning. His fingers draw all sorts of patterns up and down Shadow’s sides, making him shiver and force down more sounds. His breath hitches every time Sonic’s fingers dance up his chest, or down and beneath him towards his back. Sonic licks away the blood from the third, fourth, and fifth claw marks across Shadow’s belly, until he finally pulls back with a satisfied smile.
“That’s better, isn’t it?” he says, sounding quite pleased with himself.
Shadow can barely breathe. His vision swims. Sonic looks like a splotch of blue watercolour on grey, yet he is the most solid thing in Shadow’s entire world. “…Yes.”
“These ones will be quicker, looks like,” Sonic says, like that was a positive thing. “Don’t worry, I’ll be outta your quills soon.”
As if Shadow didn’t enjoy this more than Sonic did. Was he truly that dense?
Sonic scoots a little further down the bed so that he can start lapping at the three short cuts near his hip. The pain is nothing close to how it felt making those lines, but it makes Shadow melt into the bed all the same. That pleasant, fuzzy warmth fills his brain as Sonic’s hands rub absentmindedly over his thighs, careful to avoid his scrapes, but still pressing into the bruises he has yet to notice.
Shadow lifts his own uninjured paw, sluggish as if moving through molasses, to heavily rest it atop of one of Sonic’s. Sonic immediately turns his own paw over to hold it, thumb rubbing over Shadow’s knuckles. Shadow would have tried with his left hand instead, but he knew Sonic would’ve refused to hold it while it was injured.
Sonic moves his mouth to Shadow’s left thigh, the last wound that came close to his knee. Sonic places a few featherlight kisses around it, each press of his soft lips like a lightning bolt straight down Shadow’s spine.
This cut is deeper. Shadow sees Sonic realise it when he goes to lick the wound and is met with the heavy taste of blood, lips twisting. Sonic hums quietly.
With two fingers, Sonic very carefully pulls the two sides of the cut apart. Shadow drops his head back onto the pillow and tries not to make a sound as his whole body ignites. Sonic could do anything right now, and Shadow would not move from this bed.
“This one might need stitches, baby,” Sonic says after a pause. “I can see the beans.”
Shadow blinks lethargically, his meandering, weaving thoughts abruptly coming to a halt. “…What?”
Sonic winces as if he had made a mistake. “The fat, I mean. It’s deep, Shadow.”
His head lolls back heavily and he shrugs one shoulder. “It’ll heal.”
“Yeah, but–” Sonic’s eyes narrow slightly. “Wait, why hasn’t it already? When did you get these?”
Shit. Shadow feels himself getting lifted from his stupor at the sudden seriousness in Sonic’s tone. “Low energy,” he answers without hesitation.
“What, from fighting Metal?” Sonic asks, with a small scoff. “He doesn’t really give you a run for your money, Shadow.”
Shadow ignores the compliment in those words. He can’t afford to be distracted right now. “I haven’t slept well,” he says carefully, which was partially the truth, at least.
“As in, like a couple days?” Sonic raises an eye ridge. “A week?”
He squints in thought and guesses, “A week.”
Sonic huffs, a frown crossing his face. “You’re sleeping tonight,” he declares with finality. Sonic takes another glance down at the wound and lowers his head to lick away some of the blood stuck in Shadow’s fur. He doesn’t touch the actual wound now, however, much to Shadow’s disappointment. “You should have stitches,” Sonic adds. “But I know you won’t let me. Can I put some little butterfly stitches on it, at least?”
Shadow sets his jaw. He considers arguing for pride’s sake, but he knows that would only upset Sonic more. Sonic probably is already on edge from seeing a wound so deep going unhealed for this long. Shadow didn’t want to have to explain himself any more. He is not a good liar.
“Okay,” Shadow eventually murmurs, averting his eyes.
Fingers touch his chin and he feels his heart skip a beat. When Shadow looks back, he finds Sonic smiling at him softly.
“Hey, don’t look all pouty about it,” Sonic says, a little amusement dancing in his eyes. “It’s just ‘cause you’re not in top form.”
“I do not pout,” Shadow replies stiffly. “Just… go get them.”
Sonic places one last sweet kiss, on his hipbone this time, before disappearing in a blur. Shadow’s quills and fur are ruffled with the movement. The cool air brushes over his sluggishly healing wounds and makes them sting gratifyingly.
In another blur, Sonic returns not a few seconds later. A little box of butterfly wound closures in his hand. He settles between Shadow’s legs again, sitting cross legged now, and gingerly lifts Shadow’s thigh up into his lap.
Shadow lets his head fall back against the pillow again, eyes pinned to the ceiling again. This level of kindness was not exactly unexpected, but not common for them either. With the types of battles they both got themselves into, with world-ending odds and powerful deities, wound care like this wasn’t really their thing. Either they got hurt enough that they needed a real medical professional, their injuries were essentially negligible, they were too prideful to accept help, or the Chaos Emeralds healed any injuries they had.
Sonic’s hands are exceedingly gentle on his thigh, in a specific way that he wasn’t used to feeling. It was like being on an examination table, but simultaneously, nothing like it at all. Shadow listens to him peel the wrap of the adhesive off, feels the soft pressure of Sonic’s fingers as the wound closure is pressed into place, cold to the touch. This adhesive is made for fur, Shadow knows, but it doesn’t feel any less strange for him. On the ARK, the items in first aid kits were strictly human-only. Even when Maria insisted on giving him matching band aids whenever she covered the bruising from her IV.
In total, about ten wound closures are stuck onto Shadow’s thigh, the tension on either side of the cut holding the two sides together as best as possible. He is fully aware that Sonic should have cleaned the area before applying the adhesive bandages, but he doesn’t care to point it out. Not when they were already wasted by getting used on him.
Sonic pats his thigh gently once he is done, gradually shifting it off his lap so that he can reach over to one of the nightstands and put the box of wound closures down. He lays down on the bed besides Shadow, curling one arm so that he can cup Shadow’s face in his hand. “Okay?” Sonic asks. His eyes flick around, as if checking for anything wrong in Shadow’s expression.
“I’m fine,” Shadow agrees, carefully breathing out. The overwhelming feelings from earlier have dwindled down, replaced with a slow warmth that made Shadow want to close his eyes properly. Maybe he was more tired than he thought.
“You can take a nap now, if you wanna,” Sonic says, as if reading his mind. His thumb strokes over Shadow’s cheek. “I’ll wake you up when I get hungry.”
Shadow blinks a few times. “Alright,” he decides finally. “I… thank you.”
It was funny, thanking Sonic for helping him when it was entirely his own fault he was in this position to begin with. Still, it felt necessary.
“Yeah, course, Shadow,” Sonic replies with a bright grin. “Go on, close your eyes and stuff.”
Shadow huffs out a half-hearted laugh but lets his eyes slip shut. He drifts off to the feeling of Sonic’s warm touch brushing over his face.