“*hnn,* a-ah—” Comic’s wavering voice cracks as Gaster sinks inside of him again, nearly to the hilt this time.

Gaster stills his hips immediately.  “Comic, are you certain you’re alright?”

Sans’ brow is furrowed again and his thumb caresses soothingly over Comic’s cheekbone, a wordless gesture of the same worry, the same compassion.

“y-yes,” Comic whimpers.  y-yes, i-it’s just...it feels...”

He trails off, his mind reeling too much from the pleasure to find the words to continue.  Sans seems even more worried at that, and he looks up at Gaster.  

“hey... wings, maybe you oughta, uh—”

“n-no, i l-like it,” Comic says quickly, knowing that they’re worried he’s falling into another episode.  It’s okay.  He has control over it.  Really, he does.  Even though he can’t stop the tears from welling up in his eyes, even when the concern in both Gaster’s and Sans’ expressions deepen.  “it j-just...i-it feels so good.”

“Sweetheart... you look overwhelmed.” Gaster’s voice is filled with unease.

“comic, you don’t have to be strong for us, okay?  we want you to enjoy this.”

“i-i am,” Comic insists.  “th-that’s... what i... what doesn’t feel right.  i-it doesn’t hurt.  it doesn’t h-hurt even... even a little bit.”

It’s never been like this before.  He can feel the way Gaster’s cock stretches him, but there’s no pain.  There’s only warmth and pleasure as Gaster throbs inside of him, as Sans holds him, as he feels all three of their souls pulsing in sync.

It hurts more, Comic realizes.  It hurts more realizing that everything the Doctor did could have been like this.  It could have been entirely painless.  Of course Sans and Gaster have told him before that it wouldn’t hurt, but it’s different experiencing it himself rather than being told.  And... he assumed they just meant it wouldn’t hurt as much as what he’s used to.  He was certain that... that it must hurt at least a *little* bit, that he’d have to grit his teeth through *some* pain.  He’s never known anything else.

The Doctor really wanted to hurt him that badly.  He didn’t just want to use him, he wanted to *hurt* him.  All those times Comic screamed in pain, begged him to stop.  All those times the Doctor left him, broken, lying in a disgusting puddle of the Doctor’s release mixed with his own blood.  All those times he wished his soul would finally shatter to free him of his endless agony.

Every time, the Doctor could have gotten his pleasure without hurting him at all.  Every time, the Doctor *wanted* to hurt him like that.

*”You deserve this pain, you __deserve__ it.”*

Comic’s breath catches as he hears the Doctor’s voice.

“wings, shit, he’s—”

“I know.  Comic, I’m going to stop.  We’re going to stop, alright?”

Comic thinks maybe he nods, but it’s hard to feel his own movement now.  Distantly, he feels Gaster pull out of him.

*“I’m never going to stop.  Beg me, S-01.  Beg me to stop.  I’m never going to listen to you.”*