Phantom memories. 

A soft tongue slid into his mouth - persistently, searchingly - and he dutifully let it in. His body trembled with anticipation, and he reached forward, deepening the kiss. Heat, moisture, these lips, this tongue - he could think of nothing else. He was drowning in sensations: in a sweet breath, one for two, in the warmth of the body pressed against him, in the short silky fur under his fingers.
He moaned weakly when the kiss broke. He wanted it to go on forever…

“Very interesting memories in your head, hedgehog.” 

The black and white jackal licked his lips predatory, attentively studying the hero’s flushed face.

Infinite showed up in his cell in the middle of the night, when Sonic, completely broken after the day's torture, hoped to snatch at least some rest. All he wanted was a little respite to gather his strength and get through the next nightmarish day. But this wish, as he discovered to his despair, wasn’t destined to come true.

As a result, now he was sitting, pressed against the wall, with his hands chained behind his back, and his jailer bent over in front of him with an unkind fire in his eyes and with the most unpleasant ability to penetrate into the memories and create illusions indistinguishable from reality.

Sonic exhaled convulsively through clenched teeth. He could still feel the phantom kiss ripped from his memories. The one that should have belonged only to him. But his lips were on fire, and as he licked them, he felt blood oozing from the bites. 

He didn't want to think about whose they were.

“Stop it,” his voice trembled treacherously. 

“What exactly?” asked Infinite with a mockery, “This..?”

Dark hands, so surprisingly gentle, swept along his body, sending a thousand goosebumps with every touch. The hot breath burned his neck, and the sharp teeth nibbled gently on the skin, sensitive enough not to hurt but leave a mark nonetheless.
In response, he threw back his head, exposing the neck. More. He wanted more: more of these lips, more touches, more of these silent gestures, each of which claimed sole rights to him…

“...Or maybe this?”

Then the hand went down and teasingly ran along the inner thigh, forcing him to shamelessly spread his legs even wider. Chaos, this delicious torture drove him crazy. He was ready to do anything to get those fingers to finally reach the goal. He moved forward, almost crying with frustration when he again didn’t get what he wanted. 
“Come on... Please…”
A short laugh, a couple more moments of sweet agony on the edge, and he was finally rewarded. A hot hand wrapped around him and immediately began to move, sending waves of pleasure throughout his body with each thrust. He waited so long for this that a few moments were already enough, and he loudly moaned His name, begging to stop.
“W-wait... I... I can't take it anymore... I’m gonna…”
He choked on another moan when a burning whisper touched his ear:
“Fast as always, huh?” 
And that was enough...

...for the hot wave, that flooded him headlong, to pour out. 

Breathing heavily, Sonic tried to stop his trembling. For all the time spent imprisoned, he experienced nothing but pain, so this sudden outburst of pleasure became so deafening that he didn’t even understand when exactly he came back from the memories. 

“Done already? ‘Fast as always’, isn't it?” The jackal grinned and wiped his hand on the hero’s thigh, leaving a sticky mark. 

Pain pierced the neck, and Sonic belatedly noticed the warm stream of blood flowing down his chest. This time, the bite was too obvious to ignore, and he felt the tears burn in his eyes.

He must keep it together. Infinite shouldn't find out that this torture makes him scream inwardly, begging the jackal to stop. 

Too much from his memories had already been pulled out. Eggman, of course, was primarily interested in the location of emeralds and the Resistance bases, but Infinite found sophisticated pleasure in unearthing more personal things. Seeking out the innermost, forcing to relive them anew, like the first time. Always, as the first time... 

At the beginning it was fear. Failures and defeats. Brief moments of doubt, seconds on the edge between life and death, when he involuntarily succumbed to panic. They stretched out in minutes, and those stretched in hours in an endless loop of repetitions. It was impossible to get used to it, but now Sonic yearned for their return. Because what was happening now was many times worse.

He treasured these memories. They were few, much less than he would have liked, but that made them even more valuable. Yes, there were many others: happy meetings with friends, joyful victories, funny and exciting adventures - all those that brightened up his dark present, not allowing him to lose hope.

But these... These exact memories - personal, intimate, full of pleasures of other sort - were painfully fresh. Even before captivity he sometimes caught himself on thinking that it was too good to be true, given all the circumstances of their difficult relationship. Like it was another dream. A month-long dream. A dream that was suddenly interrupted by captivity.
 
And now these fragile, new for him memories were unceremoniously invaded, perverted and twisted in order to please someone else's mind. There was nothing he could do about the disgust, despair and pain that had settled in them forever. Hopefully, the jackal would be satisfied with his current humiliation, but this hope was so elusive that he was ready to laugh at his own naivety.

Infinite rose to his full height. Grabbing Sonic by the chin, he lifted his head up, and the blue hero froze, afraid to imagine what would come to his tormentor's mind next. More precisely, what he could find in his mind.

“I didn't think it would be so entertaining,” drawled the jackal, still smiling ominously, “Let's see how else you were having fun.”

Hot flesh twitched under his tongue as he licked it the first time. His ears caught a short sigh and the subdued curse that followed, which made him smile smugly.
He slowly ran his tongue along the entire length and lingered at the end for a moment.
“...is this revenge?”
“Exactly,” he exhaled, millimeters from the target, narrowing his eyes slyly.
“I hate you.”
“Same.”
And without giving time to recover, he abruptly swallowed it to the end.
“Ugh! Damn, Sonic…”
He grinned triumphantly, not stopping moving and catching every sound, trying to find the right tempo. Now was his turn, and he wanted to hear groans of pleasure, wanted to be their cause.
It turned out to be not that easy. But he was stubborn and knew how to achieve what he wanted: first, tease with his tongue, bringing out intricate figures with the very tip, bite gently a couple of times, only creating pressure at the right points, and then swallow in, letting in deeper, so that it will take his breath, hold it inside for a moment and abruptly pull out, allowing it to slip out of the mouth and again giving the tongue access to the most sensitive parts.
And so he felt a trembling, heard the breathing quickening, inflaming him even more, forcing him to restrain himself to not break loose and not to accelerate - no, he would be slow, he would tease, he would savor, making the other beg, the same way as he was forced to himself.
But how difficult it was when that deep voice spoke his name. When he finally achieved his goal, and the first unrestrained moans broke from those always twisted in mockery lips. When the other’s fingers in a desperate silent request dug into the fur on his head, not daring to seize the initiative, allowing him to continue, allowing him to lead. Too, too difficult.
And so he stopped the torture.

Sonic returned to reality feeling he was suffocating. Something hot and throbbing filled his mouth, and it took him a second to realize in horror what was happening.

He twitched in protest and groaned, but strong hands held his head in place, preventing him from pulling away. And in a moment it was too late.

Hot liquid splashed down his throat, and he coughed reflexively, trying to keep it out of his lungs. The searing wave, finding no other way out, went up, hit the nose and flowed viscously outward, clogging up all the senses at once: smell, taste, slimy sensation of warm moisture on his face, sound, this deafening sound echoing in his head - his own mute scream that sent burning tears of humiliation and shame from his eyes.

Infinite made a couple more thrusts, extending his own pleasure, and finally freed his mouth. Sonic inhaled desperately, filling his lungs with the coveted oxygen, and immediately coughed again in an attempt to get rid of the foreign pungent taste on his tongue. But in vain - his insides twisted in a spasm of disgust, and he vomited on the floor. Twice.

The jackal grimaced, moving away to not get his boots dirty.

“Well, it was quite… intriguing,” he commented with a grin, watching as the blue hero was shaking violently. “Perhaps we'll continue next time. After all, we haven’t reached the most interesting part yet.”

And, accompanied with his receding laughter, Infinite finally left the cell, leaving the prisoner in the desired solitude.

Still shackled, Sonic crawled exhaustedly down the wall and curled up into a ball on the cold floor of the cell, shaking in soundless sobs.

The hero of Mobius wanted to die like never before.