#rebornfell

    Sans was always fascinated by the light that always seemed to shine from Papyrus’ wings. There always seemed to be this odd glow from the red wings; odd color for an angel, but Papyrus was unlike any angel that the demon had ever met.

    That was probably what attracted him so much in the first place.

    “Sans, what are you doing?” Papyrus asked sleepily.

    Papyrus didn’t sleep often, but Sans always took full advantage when he was and took the time to admire his large, fluffy wings.

    But this time, the angel woke up as Sans was stroking down the long line of bones from which the feathers sprouted.

    “You’re dreamin’,” Sans tried.

    The angel glanced at him over his shoulder, but didn’t move from his spot, laying on his front. He didn’t look like he believed the demon.

    “What are you doing, Sans?” Papyrus asked, his voice a little more stern this time.

    Sans found he couldn’t answer, so he stroked down the wing again.

    Papyrus’ body stiffened and he sucked in a breath.

    “You okay?” Sans asked, not moving his hand from the edge of the wing.

    “Y-yes,” Papyrus stammered.

    Sans stroked the wing again. Papyrus moaned.

    “Did you just moan?”

    “DAMN IT ALL, SANS!”

    Sans chuckled and ran his fingers down the large wings again, but this time he raked his claws through the feathers. Papyrus gasped, his hands slamming the ground as he gripped at the grass and dirt, choking slightly on a small cry.

    This could be fun, Sans thought as he continued his stroking, thinking this was a perfect way to see how far he could push the angel.