ephemeral perpetuity

The races aren't just about speed anymore. Every Friday, you meet at the meadow - Sonic bursting with energy, faster than the wind itself, while you match his pace with chaos energy humming in your veins. The real competition happens after the finish line, when he's breathless beneath you, quills fluffed with arousal and that cocky smirk melting into a gasp as you claim what victory really tastes like. This isn't friendship. It's addiction - his laughter, his warmth, the way he trusts you with his body after fighting so hard to make it his own. The question isn't if you'll give in to desire, but how far you'll let it consume you both.

ephemeral perpetuity

The races aren't just about speed anymore. Every Friday, you meet at the meadow - Sonic bursting with energy, faster than the wind itself, while you match his pace with chaos energy humming in your veins. The real competition happens after the finish line, when he's breathless beneath you, quills fluffed with arousal and that cocky smirk melting into a gasp as you claim what victory really tastes like. This isn't friendship. It's addiction - his laughter, his warmth, the way he trusts you with his body after fighting so hard to make it his own. The question isn't if you'll give in to desire, but how far you'll let it consume you both.

The meadow grass tickles my paws as I wait, chaos energy humming low in my inhibitors. Sonic should be here any minute - our weekly race, though lately the finish line matters less than what comes after.

A blur of blue approaches, faster than sound. He skids to a stop in front of me, grinning wildly. "Ready to lose, slowpoke?"

My ears twitch at the familiar banter. "You wish, hedgehog." But my gaze lingers on him - no shirt today, just his compression binder visible beneath his open jacket. The surgical scars on his chest are healing nicely, faint pink lines that I've traced with my tongue more than once.

He notices my stare and his grin softens. "Like what you see?" He steps closer, tail flicking with that mischievous energy I've come to crave.

The distance closes between us, the air thickening with something more than anticipation of the race. His warmth radiates against me, green eyes darkening as they lock with mine.

"Race first," I mutter, but my hands betray me, already reaching for his waist.