#type writesold

Sans had probably let this go too far. It didn't feel right to call his heat an excuse for his behavior, not when he'd spent plenty of heats in solitude before. Now every time he started getting even a little warm, he prevailed on his brother to treat him to a quickie, even if Papyrus was on his way out the door to patrol duty.

Now, though, it was even worse, because he was thinking of asking for more than that. Their play the first time had stuck in Sans's mind in such a way that he found himself thinking about it in the wee hours of the morning when he'd kicked the covers off himself from overheating, thinking about it when he was washing up in the shower and let his fingers sneak down to his pelvis, and maybe worst of all, thinking about it while looking right at his brother when they were in a room together. Papyrus warning Sans that he was going to 'punish' him played over and over in the masturbation material reel inside his head.

Sans still couldn't quite believe he'd reached a point in his life where he thought things like that about Papyrus of all monsters. He'd always thought Papyrus was attractive, but in a sort of appreciative way, objective. This week called into question all the times Sans had enjoyed Papyrus touching him with a stray hand, every time he'd been pleased to do what Papyrus told him to do. It rewrote his whole family history in a filthy way that Sans was half intrigued by and half mournful about.

He was so messed up, wanting to get Papyrus involved in this. To keep doing it. And yet, some part of him wanted to find a way to frame this so it wasn't a bad thing, that this was something they were both allowed, for entirely selfish reasons. He wanted to not think about how it was wrong and just enjoy himself.

And there was no denying that with the level of trust already between them, it brought up so many more possibilities for sex that, if Sans were completely honest with himself, he wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to do with him.

“Hey Boss, have you ever thought about, like...role plays and shit?”

His brother froze in place where he was showing Sans his system for organizing socks by colour and size, “...why are you asking?”

“Um,” Sans squirmed, already feeling the wetness of heat coming back. They hadn’t had sex for almost twelve hours, and that was apparently long enough. “I was kinda...starting to heat up again, and I guess I was just...thinking about it...” Sans had actually started to get used to casually mentioning the progress of his heat cycle to his brother, an idea that would have mortified him before. But what had he expected, Papyrus to make fun? His brother was always almost exceptionally appropriate, and this turned out to be no different.

Papyrus straightened up, slowly placing his socks back into his drawer before reaching out towards another drawer and pulling it open. He rifled around inside of it for a moment and pulled out a small red leather-bound book. He spun on his heel back towards Sans and took a seat next to him where he sat on Papyrus’s bed.

“As a matter of fact,” he started, flipping the book open to reveal dozens of handwritten pages, “I’ve made...notes about many concepts that interested me.”

“Oh my god, Boss.”

“It’s important to be prepared!”

“No, I just, I mean. It’s impressive.”

“Of course it is. I’ve noticed that many of these ideas require careful forethought and planning in order to maximize their potential.” Papyrus went on, only the barest hint of colour to his cheekbones from Sans’s praise betraying his otherwise perfect calm. “There’s a few in here that I think you might like...did you have anything in mind specifically, though?”

Sans leaned over to look.

“A few I might like, huh...?” Sans shifted so he was awkwardly cross-legged, suddenly worried he’d mark up Papyrus’s bed. “I guess I was thinking, like...burglar, or...some kinda...like someone sneaking in and...” Sans’s face was starting to feel like the surface of the sun, and he wasn’t sure it was all just from his heat.

His brother didn’t seem to need him to clarify any further, however. With what little Sans had said, Papyrus was already flicking through pages until he stopped and pointed at one in particular, the title big and bold. “Home Intruder with Rich Backstory. This is an excellent choice. I’ve already done nearly all the required research for it.”

The page his brother pointed at was packed full of notes and, what looked like possible diagrams and illustrations? There were quick doodles with descriptive paragraphs beside them detailing exactly what the scenes were meant to portray. And. One part in specific seemed like...character notes?

“What kinda research exactly, bro?” Sans didn’t know there was anything that could be researched about making up a sex fantasy.

“Well, if you want it to be believable you have to really get into the lives of the characters that’ll be involved. I suppose it’d be simpler on your part since you’d be playing...you. But, beyond character guides, there’s notes on activities to try out and things to avoid and just general notes on safewords and—” Papyrus stopped. He flipped the book closed, one finger still inside like a bookmark, before turning to face Sans. “We don’t have one.”

“Have...?”

“A safeword, Sans.” Papyrus frowned, expression going tense. “We haven’t really discussed any sort of boundaries at all.”

“Oh...but it’s not like you ever go too far, and I mean, if I didn’t want something I could just say no...” Sans stopped, more fully appreciating that Papyrus really did know what a ‘home intruder’ scenario implied. “Unless I...didn’t mean it when I said it...oh...”

“My apologies, brother. I should have laid out the ground rules even before our first encounter. I suppose I was...distracted. Though, of course, that’s no excuse.”

Sans pat his brother on the arm.

“Jeez Boss, I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Even so...we should discuss it now if we’re planning on engaging in more complicated scenarios.” Papyrus placed the book to the side, shifting in place so he had his whole body turned towards Sans, giving him his full attention. “Do you have any hard limits I should know about? Things that you absolutely would not enjoy no matter what the context?”

“Oh.” Sans had never actually had to think about it. What kinds of things might come up if they did this? That was just like the Boss, to know all the details about something and be truly prepared. “I guess I’m...not actually crazy about the idea of getting, like, beat up? Or choked for real,” Sans tugged at the spiked choker around his neck, half of his teeth showing in a sideways grin. “...despite appearances.”

Papyrus nodded. “I will make a note of it. And if there are any new limits you discover, either while thinking them over on your own time or even during the middle of a scene, you should let me know immediately. Though I suppose in order to inform me during, we will need to establish our safeword.”

“Right...” What exactly were the criteria? Were there right and wrong safewords? “Did you have any, uh, written in that book too?”

“I did think of several...some likely a little too ridiculous for practical use. In the end, I thought simple might be best and went with ‘blue’ for ‘stop’ and ‘orange’ for ‘go’. We can diversify them further if we need to do so in the future. Unless you had ideas of your own?”

“Heh. Boss. You know you shouldn’t tempt me to put words in your mouth, unless you want the safeword to be Fartmaster.”

“Ugh.” Papyrus rolled his eyelights, though there was a hint of a smile on his face. “Fine then. If there are no objections, we’ll use my suggestion.”

His brother got up off of the bed, picking up his book as he went. He walked over to his closet, pulling the door open and bending slightly to reach around inside. Papyrus retrieved a box after a moment, shutting the closet door once he had it out and then placing it on the floor. He reopened his book and, presumably, flipped back to the appropriate page.

“I believe I already have most of the required equipment, but I’ll give it another look just to make sure...” He glanced up at Sans. “How soon would you like to do this?”

“Equip—?” Sans cut himself off from his shock. Whatever adventure Papyrus had planned out in this much detail, presumably with his usual extra enthusiasm, Sans kind of wanted to be surprised. “Would...tonight...work?”

Papyrus leveled a look at him that was positively predatory, smirk curling up on his face. “Tonight would be just fine.”

 *** 

 Sans waited in the kitchen, with his back turned to the entryway. They’d talked about Papyrus sneaking up on him, but Sans wasn’t able to hold still for the time it took to wait, and ended up goofily shuffling along the kitchen cabinets so that his back was perpetually to the entrance.

It wasn’t obvious whether it was his anticipation that made him so attuned to the moment his brother stepped into the room or whether Papyrus had decided to forgo the sneaking entirely, but the sound of his footsteps as he crossed their tiled floor seemed to reverberate loudly as he approached. His boots thudded with every step, sending vibrating jolts up Sans’s spine the nearer he got. But even so, it felt sudden and unforeseen when Sans was pulled back, an arm around his waist and a bone construct at his throat.

“Well, what do we have here?”

Sans felt tingles of excitement from the tips of his fingers down to his groin. The boss was already so into it. And he was...convincing. Sans opened and closed his mouth without reply, not quite having to fake the nerves that paralyzed him at the feigned threat.

“Dangerous thing, leaving your door unlocked like that…” Papyrus’s voice was low and rough already, breath hot against the side of his skull. He tightened his grip on Sans, squeezing around him almost tight enough to be painful. His hand with the attack pressed the slightest bit closer. “For most, that’d be a death wish...but...”

His brother’s hand around his waist trailed downwards, edging at the waistband of his shorts. “I think I like the look of you.”

Sans took quick, short breaths, angling his chin higher as the bone construct drew closer. All it had taken was the mere suggestion for his pussy to form between his legs, the smell of his heat already starting to hang in the air. Sans made some kind of small whimper as it formed, too obvious under his shorts.

Sans could feel Papyrus’s chest rumble as he laughed, pressed as close as they were together. “I thought I smelled something interesting. Tell me, is this why you left your door open? Were you hoping someone would take initiative and give you that fuck you’re so desperate for?”

The colour of Sans’s face deepened a few shades, his mouth hanging open just to breathe. It was difficult to hold back admitting that yes, that was precisely the reason, because that didn’t seem like that fit the situation too well. Would it ruin the mood if he gave in too easily? Papyrus’s voice like that, saying those things, was just about impossible to resist.

“I...”

In one forceful motion, his brother spun him around and slammed him back against the counter, the edge of it digging into the back of his spine. The action was jarring but Papyrus wasted no time in refocusing Sans’s attention. He grabbed Sans’s wrists into one of his hands and pinned them back against the high cabinets while using his free hand to redirect his line of sight, holding Sans’s face still by his chin. Sans was left staring up at his brother, the familiar sharpness of his features shrouded by the sudden dissonance of his new persona...and...

The moustache.

“Pfft.” Sans did his best to maintain a straight face, but the sound still left his mouth.

Papyrus narrowed his sockets at him. “What exactly about this situation is humorous to you?”

“Nothing. You’re a surprisingly handsome home invader.”

He could visibly see his brother’s cheekbones redden at that, but Papyrus’s expression didn’t change. He pressed harder where his hand held Sans’s, scraping them against the wood. “Well, aren’t you lucky then. Getting fucked by someone entirely out of your league.”

“Ow,” Sans squirmed in the rough hold. At first he’d been reacting to the pain, but that comment deserved it more. It wasn’t like Papyrus had to rub that in.

There must’ve been something in his expression because Papyrus’s grip faltered, slackening just the slightest, “...too much?”

He looked concerned, and a hint embarrassed as well. His demeanor had entirely switched from what it was just a moment ago. Somehow, it made the moustache on his face look even more out of place.

“Uh...” Sans was grateful he hadn’t had to break out the safeword for something like that. He looked away. “I mean, you’re not...wrong...” He wiggled his fingers. “But maybe the, uh, slamming me around kinda hurts...”

Papyrus let Sans go entirely, his hand coming down to rest on Sans’s shoulder instead. Then he frowned. “You do know that anything I say in character does not apply to how I really feel, correct?”

Sans shut his mouth and looked down at the floor, feeling even more foolish for letting the words get to him.

There was a momentary pause as his brother waited for him to respond. Seeing that Sans wasn’t about to, however, Papyrus placed both his hands lightly at Sans’s humeri before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his face. “I will be more careful with what I say. And, with how I handle you.”

“Th...thanks, Boss.”

As Papyrus drew back again, there was a considering look in his eye. “Did you want to rest for a bit?”

“What? No, no, I don’t need-” Sans tried for a light laugh, but it probably sounded nervous. “I’m not that bad, come on.”

“It’s... it’s not about being ‘that bad’, Sans.” Papyrus searched Sans’s face, worry plain in his expression. “This is about trusting each other. I need you to trust that I would never do anything that you didn’t genuinely want.” He reached back out to hold one of Sans’s hands in his own, rubbing a thumb against where he’d gripped too tight around his wrist. “And... I need to be able to trust that you’ll tell me when I overstep my boundaries. No matter how small you may think it is. That’s what our safeword is for.”

Sans hadn’t really thought about it as something that went both ways. But Papyrus didn’t actually want to hurt him, they were doing this for fun, so the idea of letting his brother do things he didn’t want just to save his own pride...really was pretty stupid.

“Okay, Boss. Sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll use it if I don’t like stuff.”

His brother nodded, still stroking his wrist. “So, tell me honestly. Do you want to stop?”

“Nah, I wanna try again.” The touch to his wrist alone was getting a reaction from Sans, oversensitive from his heat so that even, or maybe especially a gentle touch was amplified. “Besides, I can’t resist you when you’re wearing that.”

Papyrus let a hand drift up to his face, touching the fake hairs with surprising delicacy. It was possible that he had missed the teasing lilt behind those words entirely. He cleared his throat, “Yes. Well. I did put a lot of forethought into this so. I’m glad you appreciate it.”

A lot of forethought...come to think of it, Papyrus hadn’t brought anything else in with him that Sans could see. It couldn’t be that the moustache was the equipment he’d referred to?

This time, when Papyrus touched Sans again, it was with clear purpose. He placed one hand at Sans’s back, pulling him flush against him, while the other wandered up to his face, thumb working into the space of his jaw and parting his mouth. “Now then...shall we get back to it?”

Sans’s pussy gave a twinge of renewed interest at the contact.

“Y...yeah, um. Orange.”

“Good,” Papyrus murmured, his smile going from soft to heated in an instant, “I think I’ve kept you waiting long enough. Your poor pussy must be drenched by now.”

He followed the comment up with a shift of his hips, moving so that Sans’s legs were spread on either side of his leg in between them. Papyrus bent his knee and pressed it into him, just the slightest bit of pressure to drag the fabric over the wetness gathering there. With Sans’s mouth still parted, it was easy for his brother to lean in and slip his tongue into Sans’s mouth, licking into him, wet and warm, while his thumb remained firmly in position to keep Sans from drawing his mouth closed again.

Sans twisted his legs around Papyrus’s knee, only accomplishing more friction. The grinding was making him moan low into his brother’s mouth as he kissed him. He ended up closing his eyes, trying to get himself back into the mindset of the scene. He was in heat. He’d left the door open and got caught by a stranger, and now he was at his mercy. Sans felt an embarrassing squirt of wetness soak into his brother’s knee while he rubbed there.

“I like that enthusiasm,” Papyrus said, pulling back enough to smirk against his mouth, “So, I’ll reward you with a choice. Would you rather I bend you over and fuck you on the countertop or would you rather be spread out on the floor?”

“Bend me over,” Sans pleaded automatically, only a second later snapping his mouth shut in embarrassment. Playing along with not wanting this was more difficult than he’d really put in for.

“Didn’t even need to think about it, hmm? Not even a bit of hesitation.” Papyrus smoothed over Sans’s slip-up, bringing it back into the scene. He flipped Sans back around, pushing him face forward onto the counter, taking care to be much softer this time around. He pressed in from behind Sans, enough so that he could easily feel the heat pooling at his brother’s groin as his magic started to take shape. “Guess you really did want someone to walk in and take you. Fuck you until you were dripping cum down your thighs.”

Sans shivered. This time it was his heat that made him impatient enough to grind back with his magic, too eager to feel something after stopping and starting.

“Maybe. A little...” he said weakly, trying to peek behind him.

“Then it’s a good thing I found you isn’t it, my lovely little whore?” Papyrus’s magic had fully taken form now. Sans could feel it pressing into him from behind, hard and hot and just a few layers away from being right up against him. It seemed like his brother had infinitely more patience than him however, as he didn’t make a move to get any closer, simply rutting lightly against him right where he was.

“I want to hear you beg for me.”

Sans was already beginning to lose himself a little, for a second nothing registering but feverish warmth and wetness, desperation, and his brother’s hard cock pressing into him the answer to all his problems. He whimpered, one leg lifting like he was going to kick out, but he only ended up squirming uselessly again.

“I, fuck, please...” His face rubbed into the counter, spreading some drool on it. “I’m...I really need it...”

“Oh, is that right? You want me to fill you up?” The noise from Papyrus’s zip coming down sounded far louder than it had any right to be, “Maybe I ought to use you as my own personal toilet. How would you feel about that?”

Sans felt like he’d been zapped stupid by a ridiculous spike of arousal, probably his whole body lighting up a deeper shade of red. It was incredibly dangerous for Papyrus to know his kinks so well. Sans didn’t manage to get much of an answer out except for another involuntary twist of his legs.

“Gg...” he said into the countertop, shorts so soaked through it barely felt like they were covering anything anymore.

His brother moved in closer, letting the weight of his dick lay against the back of Sans’s sacrum through his shorts. His fingers trailed downwards, pressing in through the fabric and toying with the wetness there while rubbing against his tailbone. “If verbal answers are proving difficult, maybe you should try showing me how much you’d like that.”

Papyrus leaned forward, the long length of his body easily encompassing Sans from above, his arms coming down on either side of him. “Why don’t you undress for me?”

For the first time during the game, Sans found the appeal to making Papyrus work a little harder for it. Sans pulled against the hold.

“Don’t...don’t use me as a...toilet, don’t do that...”

There was a tense second where Papyrus froze, entirely unresponsive. In the very next however, he relaxed with a low, breathy laugh. “You were so eager for it just a second ago…I find it hard to believe in your sudden change of heart. Especially with you squirming underneath my cock like this with your pussy dripping wet.”

His brother brought his hands down to Sans’s shorts, thumbing into them with ease. “Maybe I just need to give you a little incentive.”

He tugged at them roughly, dragging them past Sans’s hips and part-way down his femurs before letting gravity do the rest. The fabric was drenched and heavy, falling down to his ankles with a wet slap against the kitchen tiles. It left the heated magic of his pussy completely exposed, the cool air of the room almost uncomfortably icy on his conjured flesh.

“Look at you...I can practically see you throbbing. Are you still going to pretend that you don’t want this?”

Sans squeezed his legs together, although from that angle he was almost certain it made his pussy stand out more.

“No...I can’t help it.”

“Then...” Papyrus said, voice so soft it was a wonder Sans heard it at all. As it was, it felt like every syllable was shooting straight down his spine, teasing at every vertebrae. “Why don’t you just give in?”

Sans rubbed back against Papyrus’s crotch again, this time only half aware he was doing it until he caught the noises he’d started making in his throat. He was getting more desperate, and the longer this kept up the harder it would be to hold back.

“I need it...” he whined.

“There’s a good whore. Honest at last.”

Papyrus rocked against his sacrum a few more times before he let his cock slip into the slick between Sans’s legs, readying himself with the wetness from Sans’s pussy. He brought one hand back to hold his length in hand, pushing only slightly past Sans’s folds and teasing at the threshold.

“I want you to use your hands and hold yourself open for me.”

Sans shook his head, but his hips bumped backwards again, trembling with need.

“No? It’d be a shame to waste this all over the back of your spine,” Papyrus drawled, pulling away from him, “But if you don’t want it in you, I can still enjoy the sight of my piss dripping off your bones.”

A dirty thrill captivated Sans, at the idea of getting punished like that, and he curled up his fists in front of him, though he couldn’t resist sliding one foot to spread his legs just the slightest bit wider behind him.

“Don’t. Just fuck me. Don’t do it like this.”

Papyrus shook his head, the motion close enough to feel as he followed it up with a kiss pressed to the top of Sans’s spine. “I’m afraid this is the price of disobedience, sweetheart.”

It felt like too sudden a change when Papyrus leaned up off of him, the solid weight against Sans’s back retreating. His brother stood back and readjusted himself, gripping his cock in hand, the head wet with Sans’s own fluids and glistening under the kitchen lights. Papyrus made eye contact with him, holding his gaze as he started to relieve himself.

Warm liquid splashed against the back of Sans’s spine exactly as his brother has warned, a shiver running through him from the point of impact. Papyrus continued to piss, letting his aim inch downwards until it was spilling over his sacrum and dripping off of it, just narrowly missing his pussy on its descent. The stream angled off to the side until it was trickling down his leg and it felt like his brother had marked every inch of him in it. All except his pussy, which clenched when a stray few drops passed, sliding just pass his clit.

It was driving him crazy. Whatever urges he’d been suffering before, now he felt like he truly couldn’t stand it. He let the side of his face press into the counter, and he reached back with his hands to belatedly hold the opening of his pussy open, his legs still trembling under the leftover streams of warmth.

Papyrus laughed, a deep, hoarse sound that wasn’t doing Sans’s trembling any favours, “It’s a little late for that. Can’t use you like a proper toilet without any piss left, can I?”

He wasn’t done though, that much was evident by the way he hummed as if in thought. His brother took a step closer to him, reaching out and letting his fingers brush against Sans’s stretched folds, dipping shallowly into his pussy, “I do appreciate your attempt at correcting your earlier behaviour though...I can tell you regret your actions.”

His brother leaned back over him, one hand still playing with his pussy while the other balanced him against the countertop. Fingers circling Sans’s clit, he mumbled an offer against the side of his skull, “So, tell me, pet...if not a toilet, how does being my cumdumpster sound instead?”

Sans’s breath came out shaky. It was hard to stay still when he wanted to keep grinding against his brother, the finger on him felt so good.

“Oh god. I want you to blow a load in me. I can’t...stand it anymore.”

Papyrus’s breath hitched as Sans spoke, and he could feel the press of his brother’s cock against his tailbone throb with interest. He removed his fingers and wiped them against Sans’s leg. “I’m going to pump you so full, you won’t be able to wash me out for weeks.”

With the promise growled out, Papyrus took hold of himself again and rubbed against Sans’s wetness twice before pushing into his stretched open pussy. He sank in with ease, Sans’s slickness more than enough to make the passage smooth. He gave a groan as he slipped in deeper, a full body shiver racking through him and consequently through Sans underneath him as well.

Sans gave a long whimper at its entry, barely playing at this point as he rocked his hips backwards. His words came out rapid and muffled into the counter.

“Ah. Uhn. I needta be fucked. I need to be fucked so bad.”

His brother swore at that, body bearing down heavily on top of Sans as he fucked him with renewed vigor, filling him up to the brim before withdrawing just enough to make Sans want it even more. The pace was fast, almost ruthless in how quickly Papyrus kept slamming their hips together, cock stretching him out even further than his fingers could as he held himself open. Sans’s grip was slipping too, phalanges needing to regain purchase with every squirt of slickness that escaped from the mess his brother was making of his pussy, precome dribbling out of him steadily.

“Is—is this what you wanted?” Papyrus panted, not letting up for even a second, “Your pussy tight around my cock while I wear you out? Being nothing but a toy for me to use?”

“Oh fuck,” Sans gave up his hold on his pussy, slipping his fingers out to let Papyrus fill him entirely. He brought his arms back in front of his face on the countertop, bracing himself for Papyrus’s thrusts and simply sinking into enjoying the pure physical fulfillment. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, yes, I wanted it, it’s so good...”

“God,” his brother groaned, pressing into him as best as their positions could allow. Papyrus’s cock made loud, slick noises as he kept that punishing pace, twitching and throbbing deep inside of him. He turned his head enough to press a closed mouth kiss against Sans’s shoulder. “Fuck, Sans. You feel so fucking perfect around me.”

Sans hardly registered that they’d both slipped, he was too caught up in finally getting exactly what he needed, and his brother’s body pressing over him, enveloping him in a warmth he was fairly certain emanated from his pulsing soul.

“Ahh. Boss. Boss...Boss...haa...ah-h...”

Papyrus’s thrusts were finally starting to get a little more erratic, and Sans could tell he was getting close. His brother fucked into him harder, deep enough that it felt like he was testing the limits of what Sans’s magic could take. Papyrus uncurled one hand from where it had somehow wound itself protectively around Sans’s middle and brought it down to his pussy. While he continued to pound into him, Papyrus rubbed firmly at the swollen magic of his clit.

Sans came almost immediately, head tilting back to moan loudly as relief and pleasure washed through him. His pussy kept giving rippling contractions over his brother’s cock as Sans’s noises fell into something like a mess of whines.

“Boss...” he mumbled, “want your cum in me...I wanna fucking drain you dry...”

“Fuck .” Papyrus swore, voice choking off as his body shuddered with release. His brother rocked against him as he came, hips still smacking together. His cum flooded into Sans with a force that instantly made him feel full, even as more continued to pump into him. He could feel it start to drip out of him, dribbling down his clit and onto the tiles beneath them as his brother continued thrusting into him, riding out his orgasm.

Sans almost slipped down and collapsed, the stimulation making him weak.

“Ohh...oh fuck...”

He closed his eyes, concentrating on how good everything felt, his knees almost knocking together as his body started to go limp.

Coming down from his high, his brother seemed to notice how close Sans was to teetering off the edge of the countertop because he re-wrapped an arm around his waist and supported him.

“Careful, brother.” He said, voice gone downright soft in comparison to earlier. Still, he didn’t help Sans up, much more interested in keeping him pressed against the countertop as he started to pepper kisses along his shoulder blades and spine. “You did so well.”

Sans was so oversensitive, he moaned a little just from the kisses. He rolled his head to peer back at his brother.

“Boss? Is that you? I didn’t hear you come in. Listen, I’m really sorry, but I just cheated on you with this super dashing burglar...I couldn’t help it, I’m too weak-willed...”

At first, Papyrus looked confused. Then his expression quickly morphed into exasperation, followed by a smug little smile. “Cheated on me with a burglar, huh? Would you say that he...stole your heart?”

Sans felt a thud from his own soul.

“Oh god, Boss, you’re amazing.”

Papyrus’s face, though already flush from exertion, went just the slightest shade darker. “I—I already know that, Sans. I don’t need constant reminders.”

He leaned back upright, a hand still against Sans’s back to keep him from tipping over the edge. It seemed like he pulled out with some measure of reluctance, though it was possible the feeling was mitigated by the way his cum slopped out of Sans’s pussy as it clenched when Papyrus backed away. His gaze certainly stayed fixed there long enough. Finally, he turned back to Sans, flipping him around and pulling him up so that they were chest to chest.

“You performed admirably, brother,” he said, sweeping in for another gentle kiss, “Some rest is typically par for the course in these circumstances. What would you like to help you relax?”

Sans felt like he had to reboot his brain after he heard his brother suggesting that he, Sans, relax. Then he was immediately gripped with a greedy compulsion to take advantage of the phenomenon.

“Lying in bed,” he blurted out first. “The really fluffy comforter. Do we have cocoa?”

Papyrus blinked at him, a faint sort of amusement crossing his face. “All of that is simple enough to put together. I’d have thought you’d want to get clean first, though?”

“O...oh.”

Sans briefly looked himself over, like he needed a visual reminder of the piss and cum all over him.

“I guess I...you really think of everything, Boss.” He peeked up at Papyrus. “...shower together?”

From the way his brother’s face lit up red at the suggestion, it was clear that he was reading a little more into it than an innocuous suggestion. “The- the point of you showering is to get clean , Sans. Going in together is-” He trailed off as his gaze wandered downwards, no doubt catching sight of the way Sans’s legs were still faintly trembling, “Though I. Suppose you might need a little help with that...”

“Boss, I. I really don’t think I could go again tonight. I was literally suggesting we both get clean at the same time, as crazy as that sounds from me.” He smirked. “But then, you’re the one telling me to ‘relax,’ so maybe we fucked so hard we switched for a day.”

It used to be that seeing Papyrus get embarrassed was a rare occurrence. Somehow, in the last few days, it felt like he’d seen it more than he had in years. Even now, his brother turned his head to the side, avoiding eye contact. “That. Sort of phrasing could have confused anyone. Though, it—it doesn’t matter now, in any case. Let’s just go and get cleaned up already.”

He didn’t question it, bones almost tingling with how eager he was for this. Papyrus’s soul thudded hard against the back of his ribs as he fell to his knees on the threadbare carpet and then quickly settled himself onto his back on the floor. Before Sans could even ask Papyrus started pulling off his pants, exposing his cunt, already formed and dripping.

“You’re gross, Papyrus,” his brother growled in that deep, guttural voice of his, making him shiver all over from the sound alone.

“Yeah,” he grinned, slipping his phalanges into his mouth before drawing them back out, slick with spit. He brought those same finger down towards his cunt, rubbing against the soft lips once, twice, before pushing them into himself. “I’m fuckin’ disgusting.”

In the very next second, Sans was down on the floor with him, reaching to wrap one firm hand around the one Papyrus was using to work himself open. He yelped at the pressure around his wrist, tight enough to bruise. Sans either didn’t notice or outright ignored him, too busy using his other hand to work open the front of his pants and pull his dick out.

When he did, Papyrus laughed; a low, raspy wheeze. “Shit, you’re gonna fuckin’ tear me up with that thing.”

“Shut up,” Sans retorted, taking his cock in hand and rubbing it up against Papyrus’s wet folds.

He supposed he should at least be grateful that Sans wasn’t going in just like that, though it seemed like his brother wasn’t aware of the concept of stretching a partner out before fucking them open on a dick that god damn thick. But oh well, it wasn’t like clients hadn’t done worse to him, and it felt good anyways. Made his face feel hot and his bones feel like they were filled with liquid heat, burning for Sans to get a move on.

He was so into the feeling of it, the weight of Sans’s cock resting against his cunt, just barely pushing into it, that it took a second squeeze of Sans’ hold on his wrist for him to realise he was being spoken to. “Huh?”

“I said,” Sans repeated, eyelights flashing, grim and serious. “Are you ready?”

Papyrus was surprised he’d even bother to ask. Nevertheless, he answered his brother with a slow, sultry smile.

The monsters fucking him are huge. Which, honestly, wouldn’t be a deal breaker—usually it’s a bonus—but Papyrus’s had about two shots too many and is still high off his ass which is never a good mixture. A voice in his head that sounds far too familiar is telling him he’s going to regret agreeing to take what his clients gave him when he gets up tomorrow morning. He may be pushing back into every thrust right now, but even in his delirious, lust-driven state, he can hear the way his pelvis creaks with every push.

“Why the fuck are you so slow?” Seethes the monster shoved up into Papyrus’s mouth, presumably glaring back at his friend who’s busy wearing Papyrus’s pussy out. ‘Presumably’ because he can’t actually see anything—his one good socket has an eyeful of the girthy, swollen cock that he can’t fit completely down his throat, saliva glistening where he’d attempted to let his tongue give the remainder some attention, but that’s about it.

“Fuck off,” his friend grunts, “I’m the one who’s paying.”

He follows the statement up with a loaded thrust that rocks Papyrus up bodily, choking him further on the cock stretching out his mouth.

“I wanna cum in his pussy,” the first monster continues to grouse, apparently not satisfied with having Papyrus skewered like this from the front. He’d be offended if he could think past the cloudy blur of pleasure and fullness. As it is, he weakly swallows around the monster’s cock, working his conjured throat around it as his sockets water from the exertion. The monster repays him with a light smack against his face. “He’s fuckin’ falling asleep on me up here.”

Papyrus snorts, though it comes across as a burble with the way his mouth is stuffed full. As if someone could really fall asleep while being spitroasted. Not that he’s never fallen asleep on a client before while jacked up on whatever concoction he’d taken that particular day, but that’s not really his fault. Monsters that painfully vanilla should introduce themselves with a warning.

Unsympathetic, his friend claws tighter onto Papyrus’s hips and rocks his own up with enough force to black out Papyrus’s vision for a fraction of a second. “Should’ve thought of that before being all stingy with your gold.”

“Asshole.”

The monster fucking him raw tenses at the insult, but before he can respond, there’s a knock against the door to the room that they’re in. Cramped as the small space is with monsters as big as these two, the one holding him has to turn bodily in order to face towards the door. The motion drags his cock part way out of Papyrus, making him gurgle on the cock plunged down his throat.

“Time’s up,” calls Muffet’s syrupy voice through the partition, “I’ll give you boys a minute to tidy yourselves up before I bring your escorts.”

Which more or less translates to ‘get the fuck out or the guards I’ve hired expressly for this purpose will have my leave to deal with you however they deem necessary.’ The sugary sweetness is just an act. Muffet’s got a mean streak that could match his brother’s blow for blow, though she tends to be a little more clever in how she executes it.

“Shit,” hisses the monster still rammed into his mouth, “Told you, you were being too fucking slow!”

“Nah, it’s fine.” The other one insists before tugging on Papyrus’s hips so hard that he pulls him straight off of his friend’s cock and up into his arms. Papyrus gasps as his throats clears up, dizzy in a way that only comes with breathlessness extended over such a long period of time. It doesn’t matter that he technically doesn’t need to breathe when the euphoria that comes from being able to take a shaky breath in makes a splurt of wetness dribble out of him. He can barely hear the other monster complaining to his friend about it over the sudden rush in pleasure as the monster holding him drives his cock into him over and over. He uses Papyrus like a toy to fuck, slamming him down repeatedly as he starts to grow and throb.

When the monster finally cums, it’s in a gush of fluid that tops up inside of Papyrus’s cunt, filling him all the way through. Papyrus moans hoarsely, throat run ragged as his body succumbs to a lengthy orgasm, the drugs in his system making him want to soak in it. He doesn’t even notice when he’s no longer held upright but placed back on the flat surface of the singular piece of furniture in the room.

Papyrus blearily manages to hoist himself up on his elbows, his bones aching against the cold, hard surface of the table, as the monster that had been fucking his face pushes the other one aside and grips Papyrus’s hips. He strokes himself furiously over Papyrus’s gaping cunt before sinking in. Papyrus’s thoughts are all cotton fuzz as the monster shallowly thrusts a few times before also emptying his load into his already overflowing pussy. He barely breathes at the sensation, cusping on the edge of too much. His fingers twitch against the wood beneath them, a sudden intense craving for a smoke overtaking him.

Satisfied, the monsters tuck themselves back into their pants and quickly shuffle out the door, closing it behind them as they go. They leave Papyrus on the table and there he stays, staring up at the ceiling, mind blank.

It must be only minutes later that Muffet comes in, but Papyrus feels like he’s been laying there for hours, cataloging the ache in every joint. His magic has yet to dissipate and Muffet gives it, and him, an exasperated look as she comes through. “You’re supposed to clean up, Papyrus.”

“Yeah.” He manages to acknowledge through the fog in his head.

Now that the clients are gone, there’s no longer any reason for Muffet to keep up her friendly persona. She rolls her many eyes at him, lips pursed, then digs through a pocket at her side before tossing something towards him. He can’t make his hands cooperate enough to catch it, so it lands with a soft thump against his chest, cushioned by the hoodie he’s managed to keep on through his most recent sexual escapade.

“What’s the call?”

Papyrus is nodding before the question even works all the way through. “S’fine. Go ahead and book ‘em if they come back.”

He can practically see the way dollar signs light up in Muffet’s eyes at that, a genuine curve of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

They have a mutually beneficial arrangement, he and Muffet. She gives Papyrus a secure place to work and a web—heh—of extensive background knowledge on his clients while he gives her a cut of his earnings. Muffet’s got her restaurant of course, but opening up shop in a dead end place like Snowdin means nothing in terms of lining your wallet. It’s not like her food’s the greatest either; it’s mediocre at best if he’s feeling generous. When it comes down to it, it’s only proper business sense that Muffet would want to branch out into other… entrepreneurial opportunities.

Whatever the case, Muffet doesn’t take kindly to her time being wasted, so Papyrus tries to find it in himself to get back up on his feet and out of her hair. He just barely manages to sit up when he sees Muffet watching him with a distant look on her face. When she catches his eye, she smiles breezily. “Sans dropped by.”

The pleasant warmth of orgasm chills immediately. He tries his best not to visibly react, though it’s not like Muffet would suspect anything anyway. There’s no reason for anyone to assume Papyrus would wander into this particular brand of disgusting.

“Oh?” A thread of frustration binds his joints together, stiff as he holds his jaw tensed. He’d spent this whole day trying to avoid thinking about his brother at all. To have Sans be brought to the forefront right now with that freshly fucked feeling still tingling all over his body is infuriating.

“Mmm,” Muffet nods, “Dropped by about an hour ago demanding to know where you were. Naturally, I told him I hadn’t seen you.”

“Thanks.” Papyrus mumbles back at her.

Muffet eyes linger over him, uncomfortably discerning. Papyrus feels stripped bare further than he already is. There’s no way for her to know what’s been plaguing him all day, but the sharp glint in her glossy, black eyes suggests the possibility all the same.

“One of these days, he might just figure out that all he needs to do is pay me and I’d let him at you in an instant.”

Papyrus shivers.

Muffet’s wording leaves something to be desired. She can’t be held responsible for the suggestive cut of what she’s said when she has guileless intentions, but Papyrus feels irritated over it regardless. The idea of his brother paying her like his clients do makes heat rush through his already warm body. He doesn’t want to think of it—doesn’t want to think of Sans paying his way into this tiny room with the creaky, old table… of Sans cornering him in a place where he’s bound to perform his services.

Of Sans getting his money’s worth.

“Don’t phrase it like that,” Papyrus says aloud, ignoring the way his cunt involuntarily tightens, new wetness dripping out of it. “S’gross.”

Muffet blinks, confused, before comprehension dawns on her. She starts to titter, one hand coming up to daintily cover her mouth while the others wave him off. “Oh my, that’s not at all what I meant, dear. You know that.”

Her eyes glitter though, as if catalouging this sequence of events for later. Papyrus grinds his teeth together. He should have kept his mouth shut.

In lieu of giving her any more fodder against him with an answer, Papyrus gets up off the table and grabs his shorts where they’ve fallen underneath it. He shakes them off and leans back against the table for support as he drags them up over his legs. The cum covering his pelvis and thighs catches against the fabric as he pulls them on.

“Does he know?”

Papyrus freezes, phalanges twitching against the metal of the button he’s just worked closed. He hazards a glance up at Muffet, head still facing down at his shorts. His soul relaxes when he sees nothing accusatory in her expression, a finger tapping thoughtfully at her bottom lip.

She’s not asking about what he’s been hiding. She doesn’t know.

Of course she doesn’t.

“… know about what?”

There’s a pause as Muffet stares him down, blank-faced. Then, she wordlessly gestures around the room. Papyrus huffs a quiet laugh.

Does his brother know he’s been whoring himself out?

Probably.

But it’s been years since they’ve talked about where Papyrus goes, and what he does, and how they earn enough to stay afloat. Sans likes to pretend that nothing is out of the ordinary and that suits Papyrus just fine. He’d much rather they argue and fight over inane things like who has to take out the garbage or when Papyrus is going to fix the broken door in the garage than over things that bear actual consequence in their lives. So, if Sans knows, he doesn’t bring it up, and Papyrus does his part by being as discreet as possible.

Muffet is clearly expecting a response, but he only shrugs at her. Papyrus doesn’t owe her an answer. Even if he wanted to get into it, he’d be too tired right now. Especially when he doesn’t want to think about his brother at all.

“Catch you later, Boss.” Pocketing the pouch of gold, he waves at Muffet’s frowning face before winking out of existence.

The pull of the void calls to him like it always does when he teleports, stronger now when he’s tired and weary and looking to get home as quickly as possible. There are whispers here, coaxing him to stay just a moment longer. To rest just long enough for the darkness to coil it’s tendrils firmly around him. But he’s not a child anymore—no longer frightened by the things he sees hidden in those timeless, spaceless depths—and he flashes back out into Snowdin a thin slice of a moment later.

Papyrus wobbles at the front steps to the house, shaky from the long, tiring night. His bones rattle and ache, the cold Snowdin air doing nothing to help the dull, leaden pain abate. He catches his balance and frowns at the front door. Clearly he’s more weary than he thought if he undershot his shortcut like this. He should’ve ended up straight in his room.

He considers teleporting again but that’d be reckless, even for him. The fact that Sans came to Muffet’s looking for him is concerning but… two ‘ports back to back when he’s already so worn out is bad news. Overexerting his magic like that would knock him out of commission for hours, dead to the world as his body slept to recover.

Papyrus sighs to himself and places a hand on the doorknob, fishing around in his pockets with his other hand for the house-keys.

The doorknob twists open under his palm before he can find them.

Startled, Papyrus snaps his head up. Sans stares back at him, eyelights bright and crazed.

He plasters a grin to his face. “Hey, bro. How’s it goin’?”

Sans latches onto his outstretched arm, tight enough to make Papyrus wince. He drags Papyrus in by it, paying no mind to the way he trips and stumbles as Sans lets go, barely keeping himself from falling. His brother slams the door behind them, making it shake in its frame, the sound of splintering wood ringing through the air. When he whirls around, Papyrus can already see thin wisps of magic smoking from his brother’s joints as he struggles to keep his temper in check.

“Where were you?” Sans grits, sockets scrunched up with the kind of anger that most monsters know not to toy with.

“Out,” Papyrus snarks, because he’s not most monsters.

Predictably, Sans snaps. He rushes forward and grabs Papyrus by the front of his hoodie, dragging him down till they’re face-to-face. A hot twinge runs up Papyrus’s spine as his brother’s furious gaze locks with his own and that’s the only thing that makes him fight Sans’ hold on him. He can’t be here right now. He can’t deal with this when he’s spent the whole day being vulnerable.

But, it’s only his temper that keeps Sans from joining the Guard, so it’s no trouble at all for him to use his boundless strength to hold Papyrus firmly in place. “Where were you, Papyrus?”

There’s something off here.

Sans doesn’t ask things like this. His brother gives this portion of their lives a large berth and Papyrus typically clears out of apathy long enough to be grateful for it. For Sans to bring it up now… something must have happened. Something big enough that Sans can’t ignore it anymore.

And Papyrus can’t keep ignoring things either—Sans’s grip on him is making him burn fiercely. The pills his clients had slipped his way earlier are still running hot through his system, making him slick with want at just the slightest touch. Need coils deep within him, heedless of the way his cunt drips with evidence of prior satisfaction.

He wraps his phalanges tight around his brother’s wrists, tugging at them in a fruitless attempt to dislodge them from his hoodie. “Get off of me.”

Sans doesn’t even flinch when Papyrus digs his fingers right into him, clawing at the gloves he’s wearing. He keeps his gaze focused and his hold unwavering. Seeing him like that makes a flare of anger rise up inside Papyrus and he snorts, derision slipping into his tone. “We’re not in stripes anymore, Sans. Let’s stop pretending that you don’t know exactly where I was.”

It’s confirmation. As clear as they’ve ever been with each other.

It’s obvious from the way Sans’ eyelights flash that there’s no mistaking what Papyrus said. Disgusted, his brother releases him, and this time Papyrus does fall, the tension of his attempt to pull away snapping like elastic stretched too far. He catches himself as best he can on his hands and legs but winces as pain shoots up his tailbone anyway. It goes straight to his skull, dizzying him further in combination with the mix he’d taken. Papyrus’s head feels thick and slow, arms failing him when he can’t find the strength to get up off the floor.

But he can’t stay here; not with the way his brother is pacing angrily, sparks of magic crackling over him like lightning. Because if Sans is done turning a blind-eye, then that means that something happened. Something prompted this change, and Papyrus doesn’t want to stick around to find out what. Especially when being on the floor with Sans walking around imperiously in front of him is flashing remnants of last night’s dream in his head.

He shifts awkwardly, trying to pushing himself up into sitting first. His pelvis spasms from the strain, tonight’s abuse too much for it. Papyrus groans at the pain, falling right back into his earlier position, this time panting with exertion. The attempt to get up leaves him suddenly feeling ten times as tired as he had been moments ago.

“What the hell.”

‘Language,’ he almost wants to taunt his brother, but he can’t find the breath to do so, chest still heaving. Vision bleary, Papyrus looks back up only to see Sans staring down at him, expression twisted up. It’s then that Papyrus feels cold trickling down his femurs. He knows without looking down what it must be.

“It’s cum, bro.” His soul is squashed right up against the back of his sternum, drumming so hard it might beat right out of his ribcage. He’d be better for it too. At least that way his mouth wouldn’t continue to run nervously without his say-so. “Maybe if you were a little less self-obsessed, you’d have more experience with it.”

Sans is on him in an instant.

They never fight—well, not physically anyway.

They haven’t for a long, long time.

So, Papyrus isn’t frightened of Sans getting violent with him like his brother might with anyone else, but he’s still not in any sort of place to be handled roughly. It’s not because he can’t take anything his brother might dish out, but more because the second Sans’ phalanges wrap around his legs and tug him down flat by them, a full-bodied shudder racks through his body. That’s not a reaction he wants to be having right now. That’s dangerous.

“All you ever do is mess things up for me, Papyrus.” His brother growls, refocusing Papyrus’s attention on his brother’s anger and not his touch, and, wow, okay, maybe it would’ve been better if Sans had hit him because Papyrus takes that about as well as a punch to the gut anyways. It’s not like it isn’t true but, hey, Sans ain’t winning any awards for Brother-of-the-Year either.

He forces out a laugh, grins at Sans through the dull, throbbing pain in his soul. “C’mon, you don’t need me for that. I think you manage just fine on your own.”

Enraged, Sans pushes forward, changing his grip till his phalanges are wrapped tight around Papyrus’s femurs and Sans is settled in between them. Papyrus yelps, the altered position making heat flood through his face. He has to bite back an automatic moan that works its way up into his mouth at how far his brother wrenched his legs apart. It takes a strength of will he didn’t know he possessed to keep from wriggling his hips down into his brother’s lap and grinding against him.

Sans is oblivious to it all, scowl still etched into his face and magic now sparking intermittently from his left eye.

“You’re the reason no one takes me seriously.” Sans bites out, and the rough tone of his voice does nothing to stop Papyrus’s body from reacting like how it’s used to, going limp and yielding.

He tries to grip into the carpet beneath him to ground himself, but when his brother scrapes his gloved phalanges against his bare bones, Papyrus’s still-conjured cunt gives an embarrassing throb. It’s enough that the sharp retort he’s planning dies right in his throat, mind too busy lighting up with alarm. Sans tugs his legs further apart and Papyrus can’t help the way his breath catches as his shorts ride up, exposing his dripping thighs. He can’t make himself look up at Sans, but he can almost imagine the sneer on his brother’s face.

The fact that that does nothing to lessen his arousal is frightening.

“I’ll kill them.” Sans says in a loaded whisper, and everything in that moment feels amplified. Papyrus isn’t sure if it’s what he took, but it’s like his brother’s hands on him are weighted and hot and too much. Still, his body yearns for that feeling everywhere. “I’ll kill everyone who touched you.”

His brother is a psychopath. His brother has something seriously wrong with him.

There’s something even worse up with Papyrus though, because the proclamation has him lighting up with a fire inside his soul that begs to be doused by Sans’ hands alone. Because—if Papyrus twists his words a just a little, if he reads into them just a notch—Sans sounds jealous.

Sans sounds possessive.

And with only that thought to trigger it, Papyrus’s mind is awash in the images of last night. Of Sans hooking his thumbs into Papyrus’s cunt to spread him open. Of Sans spearing him on his thick length and fucking him till Papyrus was gasping for breath he didn’t rightly even need. He’s grinding down on his brother before he can think better of it.

Sans chokes, “What—”

But Papyrus can’t hear him over his own broken moan as his oft-neglected clit rubs against two layers of cloth, one slick and slippery with cum and the other still dry. His brother isn’t hard, not at all like the way he’d been in Papyrus’s dream, but that doesn’t deter him in the slightest. Sans still has his legs gripped tight and pulled vulnerably open after all, and the idea of being forced into such a position and kept there by his brother makes his cunt quiver and drip beneath his shorts.

“Papyrus.” He’s too far gone to read anything into the way Sans says his name, but when his brother moves, it’s in an obvious attempt to stop him. Sans brings a hand up, trying to push Papyrus flat with a stiff push against his sternum, but by that time it’s already too late. Papyrus has been wound up since Sans got between his legs—since even longer if he starts counting from the rude awakening this morning. So, when his brother sits up to get his hand up on Papyrus’s chest and inadvertently grinds up into him, the small friction feels like an overwhelming wave of stimulation.

Papyrus short-circuits. His mind is on fire with an electric crackle that blazes out all other thought. He comes for the last time that night with a high that whites out everything but the overshot pulse of his soul and the satisfied aching in his cunt. When he reboots, it’s to the dissipating haze of orgasm and his brother’s stricken expression.

Papyrus goes cold. He’s never seen Sans look like that.

They stare at each other and Papyrus feels shame flood his system even as his pussy continues to ripple, wetness steadily dripping out of him. His brother’s eyes on him are unreadable, blank-faced now when in the immediate aftermath they’d been sickeningly open. Papyrus’s chest feels tight.

Sans works his jaw, eyelights flickering in and out like rapidfire. His grip on Papyrus loosens, femurs falling out of his hold. “I—”

The second Sans is no longer touching him, Papyrus takes a shortcut.

It strains his magic to its limits, drains him dry in a way that he’ll be feeling for weeks, but it’s necessary. In fact, it’s what he should’ve fucking done in the first place instead of walking through the front door like an idiot. If he’d just done that, he could’ve avoided all… this.

Instead, he’d rubbed his leaking cunt all over his brother and gotten off on it.

There was no going back from that; no pretending that it was anything other than what it was. Nothing Papyrus could say would explain it away. After this, his brother would know exactly how fucking filthy he was and how deep his depravities ran.

The sound of approaching footsteps makes Papyrus freeze. He stiffens completely, as if holding still will make the danger go away. Through the crack underneath his bedroom door, he can see a shadow come to a stop in front of his bedroom door. Papyrus squeezes his sockets shut but he still easily picture Sans standing right outside. He holds his breath, mind desperately stringing together excuses that fall apart before he can ever even think to voice them.

And then the shadow passes.

Papyrus waits, soul so still that it’s a miracle he’s not dust where he stands.

But Sans doesn’t come back.

He swallows drily and shuffles around till he catches sight of the discarded clothing from earlier in the morning. He shucks his shorts off into it and debates using a dry end to wipe himself down as he does so. He decides against it, body feeling far too heavy and cumbersome.

Papyrus jolts up in bed, soul pounding in his chest and gasping his brother’s name. This is more or less par for the course when it comes to his sleepless nights. He has nightmares frequently—wakes up drenched in sweat with his bones rattling like a wind-chime five nights out of seven—but this is different. He’s still panting, still perspiring, still every bit as run ragged as he is at the end of any old nightmare.

What makes it out of the ordinary is that, this time, he’s also sticky with cum.

He stares down at himself, sheets bunched up underneath him thanks to his restless tossing and turning. His shorts sit low on his hips, sagging down far enough that his crests are exposed, bones chipped and yellow even in the meager light coming in through the slips in his blinds. Papyrus reaches a hand out towards his pelvis and tugs at the fabric, wincing at how it clings to his bones. Even now, there’s a residual glow underneath his clothes. Confirmation of what woke him so suddenly.

He dreamt about Sans fucking him.

Papyrus figures he should feel something about that beyond the dull sense of surprise he’s currently experiencing. That’s weird, right? It’s weird that he feels no shame or embarrassment or disgust?

But then again, with some of the clients he’s had, letting Sans use him would be an upgrade.

Besides, it’s easy enough to explain away the dream. He’d come home from a long night of offering himself up, body worn out and sore. He’d barely had the foresight to ‘port straight up to his room instead of walking in through the front door and facing his brother’s wrath. Exhausted, he’d wiped himself down with some discarded clothes laying on the floor before slipping off his sandals and his hoodie and tossing himself face-first into his mattress. Sharp spasms of pain shot through his blind eye as he blearily calculated his earnings, sleep wrapping in around his skull.

He’d also been thinking about his brother.

Sans had gotten rejected from the Guard again, coming home enraged at the ‘injustice’ of it all. Papyrus hadn’t been able to keep himself from laughing outright at the predictable outcome and the ensuing mass of projectiles that had been tossed his way did little to stifle his snickering. He’d told his brother time and time again that it was his awful temper and thinly-veiled bloodlust that kept Alphys from adding him to the ranks—and with good reason. The Guard would never get anything done if one of their own went around dusting monsters left and right.

In any case, it’s easy to see where Papyrus’s subconscious might have gotten that twisted. A simple thing to replace a snarling monster gripping his arms forearms tight as he plunges violently in and out of Papyrus’s cunt with his brother’s crazed grin and vicious hold.

… it’s harder to ignore the shiver that runs up his spine as he thinks of it.

“Papyrus,” Dream Sans had growled, hilted so deep that, even awake, Papyrus swore he could feel the ghost of his touch thick and heavy within him, “I’m going to break you open on my cock.”

Which.

Bad porn dialogue really.

But it had made him cum anyways, so.

Regardless, the dream means nothing. Even if continuing to think about it as his soul calms and the comfortable haze of orgasm dissipates is giving rise to all sorts of complicated, churning emotions. Papyrus is tired. He’s exhausted. Even if he’s never really slept much, it doesn’t mean he’s impervious to needing to shut down occasionally.

In the end, he isn’t interested in exploring the intricacies of dream reading while running on empty. Especially for something that’s not even that big a deal.

So what if he’d dreamt of screaming himself hoarse, clenched tight around his brother’s cock as he rode out his orgasm?

It doesn’t mean anything.

The pounding in his blind socket returns, body tensing at the pain. Papyrus turns over and forces his eyes shut. Sleep will come if he waits long enough for it, and maybe this time it’ll be dreamless.

But when the morning comes, and he’s still only managed to catch snatches of sleep in between long stretches of malcontent, things aren’t quite as easy to cast away.

For one, the filth in his shorts has gone an unappealing mixture of stiff and tacky. He spares a second to be remorseful over not having the foresight to clean up at night before shaking the thought away. It isn’t like he hasn’t woken up covered in worse from those nights where he skipped wiping himself down after ‘work’. There were far worse things than a little mess from time to time.

He rolls over in bed and peels the shorts off before tossing them to the side into a rank pile of clothing. Then he pushes himself up to his feet, pelvis bare and only an undershirt covering him.

Thoughtful, Papyrus tugs the hem of the black, sleeveless top down, as if to cover his indecency. He glances over at the figure he strikes in the dirty, full-length mirror laying unhung against his wall. Standing like this, still softened from sleep and looking bashful with his shirt pulled down over his bare bones, makes him snicker.

That good humour washes away a second later when a shout booms through the house, loud enough to jostle the sparse furniture in his room. “Papyrus!”

He freezes in place, images from his dream last night flashing through his mind in quick succession. Then, he clenches his phalanges tight into the fabric of his undershirt; hard enough that he can feel his bones scraping through to the other side.

What is he getting so worked up over? It’s only Sans.

One dream doesn’t change a thing.

“What?” He hollers, forcing past the feeling of his soul rising up in his false-throat.

“Pap, you ingrate,” Sans shouts back, mixing what should be an affectionate nickname with his usual irritation. It’s normal, comfortable and safe. His brother continues to behave as he always does and it’s enough that Papyrus untenses just the slightest. “If you’re up, then get down here!”

Papyrus rolls his one, working eyelight, “I’m coming, Sa—”

The words dry up. He gives a full-body shudder as a tingle of magic pulses in his pelvis at the memory of shouting the same phrase in his dream. He’s already standing in front of the mirror, so he can’t brush off the way a light flush of purple works onto his cheekbones as his body heats from the thought. Papyrus locks gazes with his reflection for only a second before he looks away.

He doesn’t want to think about what he sees in that expression.

“Papyrus!”

“I heard you the first time!” He croaks, trying for normal but rankled with nerves.

This is stupid. This is so fuckin’ ridiculous.

The dream meant nothing, so why is he reacting like this?

Gritting his teeth and forcing his body still of its trembling, Papyrus turns away from the mirror and moves towards the pile of suspect clothing by the foot of his bed. He focuses on nothing but sifting through it, searching for something clean to wear. When his hand snags on a pair of long, dark grey shorts, he pulls them up to his face to sniff at them before deeming them acceptable.

Papyrus tugs them up his hips, slips on his sandals, snatches his hoodie up from where he’d discarded it next to his mattress last night, and strides to his bedroom door.

He gives one glance over his shoulder at the mess of clothing strewn about the place—a particular pair of shorts, newly covered in filth, among them—and promises himself that he’ll do laundry later. After that, he can put all of this behind him.

“Y’know what I really want?”

“To finally order a drink?” Grillby grumbled.

Sans waved a hand dismissively, his arm already getting the counter smeared. He was dripping, his heat soaking through his clothes as the magic in his body reacted to the lack of relief.

He didn’t even have the excuse of alcohol in his system for his behavior, going out to the bar like this. He’d just had to break the cycle somehow, do something different than sprain his wrist masturbating through the fifth or sixth time loop that had occurred during this heat. It felt like movie night with Papyrus had been ages ago, despite this latest reset making it so that it was only last night that they'd sat down for dinner together.

Maybe it was his heat at fault for heightening his needs so intensely that he wasn’t able to control himself in public, but there was a bit of nihilism in there too. If this was all just going to loop again, what did it matter if one of those times he gave into some perverse desires? No one would remember this tomorrow. If they ever got to tomorrow.

Filled with daring at that idea, Sans braced his hands on the counter to raise his skull closer to Grillby’s height.

“I want someone to throw me down to the floor and fuck me into oblivion.”

Grillby’s mouth fell open a little, but he didn’t appear to have any response forthcoming for that. That was alright. He could just listen.

“You seein’ this?” Sans shook his wet sleeve. “Whole room can probably smell me. I’m horny as fuck.”

A monster that had been sitting on the stool next to him got up and awkwardly moved to a booth. Sans could physically feel stares from behind him. Good, let them listen, too.

“I’d probably let anybody fuck me right now. Hell, I want someone to use me, order me around, call me a dirty whore and pump me fulla cum. I’m soaking through my shorts just thinking about it.”

Grillby looked to the side like he was searching for an escape route. Sans snorted, turning to the barfly at his left, a fish monster slumped onto the counter.

“Y’know what I’m saying?”

The fish monster took a moment, but slowly its fin raised its glass.

“Ha, amen.” It took a drink, sloshing some. “Always had a thing for watersports, no one to try it with.”

Sans slammed his palms on the counter.

“Do I ever.” Sans almost felt drunk himself as he got caught up in imaginings of things he’d never voiced before. “Getting pissed on sounds good, but y’know, y’know what I’ve really always wanted, was for someone to just—piss right inside me and fill me up with it.”

 Sans heard a loud cough and other noises behind him. The fish monster was still a good audience, nodding sagely at the lewd confession. Sans really could feel his pussy heavily leaking arousal into his shorts as he talked.

“And like, hearing them enjoy it while they relieve themself in me...calling me dirty...”

Shit, now Sans was really horny.

Hell, he’d gone this far. He reached his hand down into his shorts and started masturbating himself right there.

“What the fuck,” he heard Grillby whisper. The bartender was apparently still frozen helpless.

And Sans wasn’t getting nearly enough from just his hand, even with the added stimulation of all those eyes on him while he touched himself. He was fucking tired of his goddamn hands.

Sans got up abruptly, setting his crotch against the edge of the barstool and starting to rut into it. There, that was already better. What started as a gentler rocking on the stool quickly became more purposeful, and at some point, his legs slipped into a semi-straddle, and he was fully pushing his pussy against the edge of the stool through his pants.

He was sure he heard whispers and snickering at some point. Why did that have to make it more appealing.

Sans whimpered at the euphoric feeling creeping through his whole body, from giving into his heat, from being watched while he did it, even if they were all laughing at him. He didn’t even notice being approached until there was the firm pressure of a familiar hand on his shoulder.

“Sans. It’s time to go home.”

Sans was caught somewhere between abject horror, and the need to keep humping the stool, and ended up slipping and upending the whole thing, landing on his ass. A messy little puddle on the floor, Sans heard his own voice come out a pitch or two higher than normal.

“Hi Boss.”

Apparently Papyrus’s jaw had dropped open when Sans fell, because he had to snap it shut again and straighten his spine as he put out a hand to help him up. “Honestly, brother.”

“Fuck, h—” How long had he been there. How long had he been there. Sans’s mouth snapped shut too, an ugly, nervous giggle trapped behind his jaw. Without taking Papyrus’s hand, he sprang up, brushing off his front. If only he could brush off the fucking mortifying stain of arousal on the crotch of his pants.

“I’m. Off to Grillby’s, seeya later!” Sans blurted, heading for the door like he could reverse reality into its mirror image.

Unfortunately, Papyrus didn’t follow their usual protocol for awkward encounters. Instead of leaving Sans be and pretending that none of this had just happened, his brother walked smoothly up behind him until they were shoulder to shoulder. “For one, you’re already at Grillby’s. Two, no more outside excursions. We should head home. Together.”

What could Sans even say to that? Papyrus was right on all counts. Sans hung his head, trying to hide his face and not see anyone else’s reactions.

“Uh...yeah. Yeah...”

Even walking reminded Sans of his needs, and now was especially not the time. The thought that this might still be erased and written over was barely comforting when Sans was pretty sure he wouldn’t forget the utterly humiliating feeling of being lead home by his brother while his pussy ached with each step.

Sans squirmed at the doorway. He’d been so close to cupping his hands over his crotch so many times on the walk back, and that instinct came in again now, but what would it even accomplish. Papyrus knew what he was going through, and he’d seen plenty of evidence of it. Sans would never be able to look him in the eye again. Sans was pretty sure he’d discovered a new meaning for the phrase ‘walk of shame.’

Papyrus, for his part, didn’t look Sans’s way until the door was closed and he had walked all the way back to the couch. He stood with his back to Sans for a moment, fidgeting in place as if debating something, before he finally turned around and gave him an unreadable look. At the very least, his brother did him a favour by keeping his gaze focused on Sans’s face, almost pointedly avoiding looking down at what he already knew was there.

“What happened, Sans?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sans balked at the idea of being any more explicit than what Papyrus had been unfortunate enough to see.

“You already...I don’t, I don’t know what to tell you…” He hunched his shoulders. “You really wanna talk about this...? I’d rather just forget it happened, and I was kinda hoping you’d...”

“No, I didn’t mean—” His brother shifted uneasily in place, breaking eye contact as a slight redness cast over his cheekbones, “Obviously I don’t need a recap of everything, I just...”

Papyrus sighed, taking a seat on the couch. He had a considering look on his face as he stared off to the side, jaw clenched tight. When he met Sans’s eyes again, the earlier hint of embarrassment was gone. “I know that this week has been...longer than usual for you. Longer than it should have been for all of us. I guess I’m just wondering what made you think to go to Grillby’s because of it.”

Because he had a kink for exhibitionism? Sans couldn’t say that out loud...anymore. Because he was desperate to get fucked, and might’ve taken it any way he could, was possibly an even worse answer.

“Uh...change of...change of scenery...”

Papyrus stared at him for a moment, unblinking, and Sans got the feeling that he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Right, well, in any case, this...this wasn’t really the way I had planned for things to go but...” There it was again. That flush to his brother’s face. As if he’d been the one to get caught begging to be fucked in public. “...you know I’m here for you, right?”

Wasn’t the way he’d planned things to go? Sans had a sudden ridiculous image of Papyrus being behind the resets the whole time, yanking a magic lever over and over and cackling each time. Wait, what had he said?

“Here for—? Yeah, of...of course, bro, me too...” Sans trailed off, uncertain why now was the time for them to reiterate that. There wasn’t anything Papyrus could have done here, right? Written up a calendar for him, maybe. How embarrassing. Sans was distracted by another insistent throb of his neglected magic, and he even felt his eyes go up in his skull a little from the intensity of that need. This time he couldn’t help clutching his hands between his legs, and he couldn’t fool himself into thinking he was being sneaky or subtle about the motion.

“So, then, if the resets are making it...” His brother’s eyelights flicked downwards before racing back up. Papyrus’s cheekbones darkened further and his hand came up to awkwardly pull at his scarf. “More, uh, difficult to deal with your heat than usual, I...I would be happy to help.”

“What could you do?” Sans blurted out, too confused to think about his words.

“I—” It seemed his confident, extravagantly verbose brother was at a loss of words. In place of them, Papyrus gyrated his hips, thrusting where he sat and moving his arms back and forth.

Sans felt his pussy give another embarrassing gush at the simple movement, but he kept staring at his brother, not able to connect the two ideas in his head.

When it became obvious to Papyrus that there was no response forthcoming to his display, he stopped and straightened, going entirely stiff. “I could fuck you.”

“Wh—” Sans spluttered. “You don’t—ha, good one...bro?” Was it? But something was finally coming together, that weird dinner, the insistence on talking about the couple in the movie, his brother’s odd reactions to everything. The fact that he hadn’t just dragged Sans home from Grillby’s and grumbled at him to wash his clothes. “You don’t...” Sans’s whole mind slowed down. “Are you serious...?”

“I am.” Papyrus confirmed, grim-faced like he was when he spoke to other members of the Guard. “Again, this isn’t how I wanted this to happen. Ideally, we would’ve worked our way up to being intimate, but since dealing with a lengthened heat seems to have worn you out on your own and I’m...more than willing, it, uh. It’s a practical solution.”

Sans’s mouth hung open slightly, lights and stars going off in his head. The horny goblin inside him that made him hump a stool in public insisted that Sans needed it however he could get it, but there was something else taking shape, too. He was overwhelmed by a warmth at Papyrus’s words that had nothing to do with being horny. Papyrus suddenly looked different to him somehow, like he was seeing him in a light he’d never considered before. Like he was meeting him again for the first time.

And god, why was Papyrus’s demonstrated little hip-thrusting motion playing again and again through Sans’s head, making him even wetter. There was really something wrong with him, wasn’t there. Even heat shouldn’t be enough to make him think things like that about his brother.

“I, uh...” Sans felt his legs weakening. He slid down to the floor in a cross-legged jumble, hands still stuffed between his legs. His brother was really offering to fuck him. Relief was right within reach in a way Sans shouldn’t ever want. Everything about Sans that liked it as dirty as possible lit up at the very thought. “I...yeah, if...if you really...I mean...”

“Yeah?” Papyrus repeated, and it was an uncanny mirror of how he’d copied Sans’s words that night at dinner. Either way, it almost seemed like his brother hadn’t expected to get this far and his sockets went wide with surprise before he controlled his expression again and collected himself. “I’m certain how I feel. I want to do this...but do you?”

His brother fucking him. His brother fucking him. His brother fucking him. The words played over and over, echoing in Sans’s skull until he felt a puddle of arousal seeping underneath him. He crawled over to the couch, sitting up against it and resting his head and arms on the cushion, not confident to get up on his trembling legs just yet.

“I trust you.” Sans looked up into Papyrus’s face. “And if...if you really wanna do that, then yeah, I...I wanna try it.”

“Okay,” Papyrus said, nodding in a manner that suggested it was more for himself than anyone else, “Okay.” He got up to his feet and looked down at where Sans was pressed against the couch. “Let me know if I’m… too rough. Or, if there are any other, uh, unforeseen issues.”

He turned to face Sans more fully and then knelt down. Looking at each other like this, there was no mistaking that set expression on Papyrus’s face, filled with resolve. His eyelights burned bright as he put one hand on Sans’s shoulder and then pushed firmly. As shaky as Sans was, it felt as if it took no effort at all for his brother to pry him away from the couch and then maneuver him until he was on his back on the floor. Even after positioning him, Papyrus’s hands remained, pressed warm and solid over his body.

Sans could practically feel his pupils dilate as he took in Papyrus’s face over him, felt his body over him. Without thinking about it, Sans spread his legs, exposing himself for the first time since getting home. If Papyrus wanted this, that made it okay, right? They could keep a secret. Just give in for a little. It was too tempting, with the Boss taking the lead like this. And the feeling of him on top of him. Sans was actually looking forward to this, wasn’t he?

This time, when Papyrus dragged his gaze downwards, he let it linger. His sockets went hooded as he stared at the way Sans’s legs were spread, hands coming down slowly until they were pressing in underneath his shorts and rubbing absently at his femurs. His brother moved so he was situated just fractionally away from his soaked pussy, then shot a glance back up at Sans. “Is this okay?”

Sans’s voice came out in an odd squeak.

“Ye-ah...”

He shook his head. Why’d he sound so stupid. But his legs were practically vibrating the closer Papyrus got to touching him there, and some bubble of excitement had popped from inside. Sans tried clearing his throat.

“Yes...”

Papyrus watched him for a moment, staring down at Sans with a spark of something intense in his eyelights. Before Sans could think on it too long however, Papyrus was leaning down and pushing his legs back until he was pressed underneath his brother, femurs bent backwards. He could feel Papyrus hard against him and as distracting as that was, it caught him off-guard when his brother clicked his teeth against Sans’s. The motion sent a fresh wave of arousal pulsing through him when Papyrus conjured a tongue to swipe against his closed mouth.

Sans opened his mouth to let out a heated breath, and the tongue went right in to lap over his, already formed and glowing, unable to be dispelled while he was this far in. Sans’s breathy noise morphed into a low, wet moan. Just his mouth being penetrated was enough to get all his body’s alarms going, alerting him that he was far past ready to be fucked. His spine arched against Papyrus, clothed pussy pressing up into his brother’s groin.

Papyrus rocked against him, erection rubbing tantalizingly against his pussy through his drenched shorts. When his brother pulled away, it was with a hooded gaze and a hint of a smile playing about his face. Already the absence felt like too much, but Papyrus held him fixed to his position, thumbs still rubbing circles along the bare bones of his femurs.

“You look good like this, Sans.” He smiled, a wicked lilt to his words.

Sans’s breath caught. His pelvis tried lifting up higher, already missing the stimulation.

“F-...fuck...Boss...”

He didn’t know what to ask for like this, but he was pretty sure he already sounded like he was begging.

One of Papyrus’s hands slipped up to work off his shorts, and that seemed far more important than anything else in this moment could possibly be. The seconds felt like they dragged on as the material of his shorts bunched up by his knees before Papyrus pulled further and brought one leg through it. The other side he left, foregoing removing them entirely. Papyrus’s fingers slid up his femurs on the way back, the touch just faint enough to be maddening.

“Is there a problem, brother?” He said, eyelights focused downwards at Sans’s magic.

Not exactly, not now that his shorts were off. Shouldn’t it be? Sans felt his face heat up about a hundred degrees as he registered Papyrus laying eyes on his magic for the first time. Nothing dirty or even sentimental like that came out of Sans’s mouth, though, as he lost one more modicum of control. All he managed were a train of whimpering noises and bucking his hips up.

“Boss...come on...”

Papyrus didn’t respond, instead pushing in closer until he could easily release his hold on Sans’s legs so they fell on either side of his waist. Then, he leaned forward again, using his freed hands to grasp Sans’s arms and place them up by his skull, firmly held to the floor. Like this, Sans was spread open to him entirely, unable to move unless he fought his brother’s hold on him. Papyrus spent a moment looking him over, drinking in the image.

He shifted forward, placing another wet kiss against Sans’s mouth before he trailed off to lick along the side of his jaw. “Do you want me, Sans?”

Sans’s legs twitched eagerly. He was far from wanting to change anything about this position, except maybe for his brother to start moving on him like he had before.

“God. Fuck. I want it so bad.”

...but that wasn’t what Papyrus asked, was it. He’d said he hadn’t wanted it to happen like this. He’d said he was...more than happy to do this. He really...

“I want you...” Sans didn’t make it above a whisper, but it still made his soul ache somewhere deep. An hour ago Sans would’ve taken it from any monster in the bar, but right now he only wanted Papyrus to do it.

Despite having spoken so quietly, his brother must have heard him because he mumbled something Sans couldn’t catch against his neck and pulled back to look at him with a face tinged red. Sans only had an instant to catch that expression before Papyrus kissed him again, soft and slow, tongue licking into him and body pressing down tight to his. This close, Papyrus’s cock rubbed up against his pussy once more and just the weight of it against him made a dribble of wetness drip out of him.

As the kiss broke, Sans breathed out unevenly, the grinding both too much and too little.

“Ah-hh-h please rub it on me, rub it on me more please, I need it, fuck...”

Papyrus obliged.

He lifted himself up far enough that their chests were no longer touching but Sans was still pinned firmly to the floor by Papyrus’s hands on his. The angle allowed his brother more room to move, and Papyrus used it to rock his pelvis down on Sans’s. After being teased for so long, the first solid brush of Papyrus’s cock against him was enough to have him gasping, and this time his brother didn’t stop. Papyrus found a rhythm and continued to grind down into him, Sans’s wetness quickly darkening the front of his own pants.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Sans’s pelvis was already jerking upwards from how close he was. Papyrus had found an amount of pressure that was exactly right. But just when it seemed like Sans would finally find relief, his brother stopped. His pussy throbbed as Papyrus pulled away, a sticky line of wetness connecting them before snapping as his brother moved far enough back.

“I can see you twitching, Sans.” Papyrus’s voice was rough and low, making Sans shiver at the sound of it. His brother rearranged his hold on Sans’s arms, moving so that both of Sans’s wrists were pinned with only one hand while the other was free to wander lower.

Papyrus’s thumb roughly swiping along his swollen lips wasn’t enough to match the feeling of his cock, so even as his brother repeated the motion a few more times, each touch only left him feeling more desperate at the end of it. When Papyrus used two fingers to spread his lips apart, it made him tremble.

“You’re dripping.”

One of Sans’s legs fell to the side, exposing him more. He couldn’t be upset about not finishing, when it meant that this, whatever it was, was lasting longer. Sans had to try a couple times to speak.

“I’m— haa...pretty sure it’s your fault at this point...Boss...”

“Oh? Is that so?” Papyrus teased as he pushed a single, gloved finger inside of him, “Does the thought of me working you open get you wet, brother?”

As he spoke, Papyrus angled his hand so that his thumb continued to rub through the slick on his lips while simultaneously inserting a second finger. It went in easily, and Papyrus began to slowly pump inside of him.

It wasn’t enough.

Sans couldn’t help but whimper.

“Yes...”

“Does the feeling of my fingers inside of you make you want more?” He taunted, moving his thumb up to brush near his clit without actually touching it. That got something out of Sans that sounded dangerously close to a sob.

“Fuck. Yes yes yes...”

“Is this not enough, brother?” He asked, slipping a third finger in with a vicious thrust, “Would you rather I fuck you instead? Would you rather be filled with my cock?”

Sans was grateful at least that Papyrus provided him with so much material, because he didn’t think a single coherent request would make it out otherwise, and he’d be stuck in a frictionless hell.

“Please fuck me.” He raised his hips so his pussy swallowed the fingers deeper. “Please fill me with your cock. Boss. I want that inst...instead.”

“Hmm...” Papyrus stopped all motion, stilling his fingers inside of Sans and no longer circling his clit, “Well. If you insist.”

He pulled out, making Sans clench reflexively around the sudden emptiness inside of him. His brother shifted until he was sitting back on his knees, releasing his hold on Sans’s arms entirely and towering over him with his impressive height. He reached down towards his belt, clinking the buckle open and undoing it before pulling the belt easily through the loops with one tug. He tossed it to the side, unlike his usually orderly way of going about things, far more concerned with working his pants open next.

As the zipper came undone, the fullness of Papyrus’s dick fell into his hand. Sans watched as Papyrus stroked it, his own wetness still on his brother’s gloves.

In spite of his desperation, Sans couldn’t help but return just a little bit of the same treatment.

“You uh. You been enjoying this a lot, Boss?”

Papyrus froze in his motions, a light flush working its way onto his face. A moment passed before it was replaced with a smirk, his gaze narrowing down at him, “Careful, brother. There’s other more bothersome holes I can find my relief in while you keep trembling in desperation for me.”

Sans’s grin actually grew.

“I ain’t allowed even a little tease that you’re rock fucking hard?”

“Oh, you can tease all you like,” Papyrus said and, despite his words, his tone was forbidding, “I just hope you’re willing to face the consequences.”

Papyrus returned to his earlier position, this time with his cock there to take the place of his fingers. But he didn’t put it inside of Sans just yet. First, he made a show of gripping himself from the base, bewildering Sans entirely. Then, he pressed closer, letting the head of his dick rest at the top of his mound.

His brother rutted there slowly, the friction irritatingly little in comparison to what Sans had gotten earlier. It still made heat rush anew to his face, and he tried to find his grip on the carpet beneath him as his brother continued the motion. Papyrus slipped further down, brushing past Sans’s clit and collecting wetness as he rubbed against his pussy.

“Well, Sans? Are you ready to accept your punishment?”

Sans’s eyes fluttered at the attention, as small as it was.

“Ffffuck. Yes.”

Whatever Papyrus was planning, Sans was pretty certain he could face it. It didn’t hurt that Papyrus promising to punish him made Sans feel indescribably hot.

“Good.” His brother said, simple and succinct.

He pushed into Sans just a second later, filling him up instantly. Far more than his fingers had. The feeling of it had his soul thudding hard against his ribcage, Papyrus stretching him out so perfectly around his cock. It felt even better than when his brother had been simply rubbing off against him save for the fact that Papyrus wasn’t moving.

“I hope you’re ready, brother.”

For a second Sans thought Papyrus meant that maybe the punishment was that he just wouldn’t move at all. But then his brother twitched inside of him and Sans didn’t have even a moment to consider what that could mean before a flood of warmth started to fill him up from the inside.

“Oh fuck oh fuck—”

Sans’s eyes rolled up, his hands clawing hard into the carpet as he felt his orgasm overtake him, pussy squeezing onto Papyrus’s cock in response to the gush of fluid. Sans was barely able to think about how Papyrus knew as he was carried away by that feeling, how dirty it felt and how incredibly good.

His brother continued pissing into him as Sans came, the liquid filling in around his cock and then proceeding to leak out once there was no longer any room inside of him. It was warm and it tingled where the stream hit against his walls, and the way Papyrus groaned as he relieved himself inside him made Sans shudder harder as the aftershocks rocked through his frame.

Sans twitched under him, the beginnings of a sloppy grin stretching over his face. Something made him reach up and grab around Papyrus’s ribs to clutch the fabric of his shirt.

“Ohhh...Boss...”

“You—” his brother started, seemingly at a loss, “You really did like it. That’s fucking filthy, Sans.”

It didn’t seem to dull his arousal any though. In fact, Papyrus was still hard and full inside of him, even as the stream of warm fluid died to a stop. Sans gripped tighter at his shirt, keening a little as his brother pulled out of him.

The piss that had been stoppered inside of him by his brother’s cock rushed out, pouring down onto the carpet beneath him. Sans could see Papyrus eye it with distaste and knew that at some point after this, he’d be the unlucky one put on cleaning duty. But, for now, Papyrus flicked his gaze away from the mess on the floor and back towards the mess he’d made of Sans’s pussy.

“Disgusting.”

“Yeah...” Sans agreed blearily, still coming down from the high of release.

“You genuinely enjoyed that,” Papyrus laughed, “It wasn’t just your heat making you desperate for it. You liked it.”

“I-I...” Papyrus wouldn’t have pissed in him if he actually thought that was disgusting, right? “Yeah...sorry...”

His apology seemed to give his brother pause, and Papyrus’s amused expression slipped a little. It morphed into something more considering as Papyrus stared down at Sans’s spread legs. His brother raised a hand up to his mouth and bit onto the bottom of his glove, pulling it off with his teeth. Then, with his bare hand, he reached back down to rub at Sans’s wetness, mixing it in with the fluid still dripping out of him.

Papyrus looked up at Sans again, serious as he took himself back in hand and realigned himself. The wet press of his cock against Sans’s leaking pussy probably felt better than it strictly should have.

“It’s fine,” He said, and it almost sounded like an apology itself, “I only did it because I...I overheard you. Earlier.”

Oh. Oh fuck. Sans froze in space and time until it occurred to him how ridiculous it would be to be embarrassed by that at this point. His brother had literally just peed in him.

“Uh. Then you. You wanted? Um...”

Luckily for him, Papyrus was also a little awkward. “You seemed so eager, I guess I just...wanted to hear you sound like that again. For me.”

“Oh,” Sans said out loud this time. “I...” Wait, Papyrus had heard what he said in the bar and liked it? Sans suddenly felt like he understood why Papyrus made such a big deal over Sans liking something weird. “Y-you wanted me to...to say things like...?”

Papyrus squared his shoulders, eyelights blazing, “You’ve always had a knack for being filthy, brother.”

Papyrus liked it. Sans felt like his face had caught on fire from that look. A half-nervous, half-amused giggle came out of him before he could cohesively respond.

“For you, huh Boss? So you wanna be the one to use me and pump me full of cum?”

The sharp inhalation from his brother confirmed that Papyrus was definitely into it. Sans’s words seemed to prompt his brother to reach out again and grab onto one of Sans’s femurs, pushing it to the floor and eyeing his glistening mound. “Well,” Papyrus said, a challenging gleam in his eyes, “I got this far, didn’t I?”

Papyrus clasped Sans’s other femur with his free hand and then used his hold on both legs to drag Sans flush against his cock once more. Sans could feel how hard his brother still was, dick throbbing against his wet folds with every slight motion. “I’ve already thrown you to the floor. Guess all that’s left is fucking you to oblivion.”

Sans lost all control of his words at that announcement, only a speechless garble coming out as he put together the total unreality of his little brother turning his own dirty talk back on him, and the filthily satisfying way he could feel him rock hard against him. In place of a better response, Sans opted for moving his hands from Papyrus’s ribs to hold his upper arms instead.

That turned into an even more dangerous feeling. Subtle as it was, the change in position made a hot blush seep over Sans’s face. There was definitely something more...romantic about it.

He wasn’t entirely sure if Papyrus noticed the shift in mood as well but his touch felt even gentler. He leaned in closer to Sans, the faint heat of his body adding to the already heightened warmth of his own. Sans could feel Papyrus slowly rubbing the length of his cock against him, ramping up a slower build of tension this time. When he finally pushed into Sans again, it was unhurried and welcomely tender.

Right after his orgasm, the soft treatment felt amplified with every touch, so that with each rock of their hips together, Sans let out a noise like a croon.

Papyrus continued to keep an even pace, steady in the way he pushed in and out of Sans’s tightness. He pressed his face against the side of Sans’s neck and kissed him there, brief and sweet. He followed it with a nip against the bone before dragging his tongue over the area to soothe the hurt.

“Fuck, Sans...” He groaned.

Sans’s hands scrabbled up Papyrus’s arms for a firmer hold, slipping as his brother said his name.

“Boss...” he muttered as he let his skull tilt back, nodding along with each steady push.

“You feel so perfect around me, brother,” Papyrus whispered, breath hot against his bare bones, “Clenching so tightly every time I fuck into you.”

Sans was still making sense of a world where Papyrus said something like that to him. While doing it. It made Sans feel warm, and wanted, and...really, really good. Sans nearly cried from how good it felt when Papyrus hit just the right spot inside.

“Shit, Boss, please use me, use me up...”

He could hear the way Papyrus’s breath caught at his words and could feel it when his brother’s grip tightened against him, squeezing onto his hip bones as Papyrus stuttered in his movement. There was a beat before Papyrus moved down, falling in close to him. He pressed down against Sans so that their chests were pressed together and tilted his head so his mouth was inches from the side of Sans’s skull. “Oh, I plan to.”

He continued with a push into him that made Sans's pussy squelch wetly and his face burn in consequence. The slick noises of Papyrus fucking him seemed louder with every thrust as his brother picked up the pace. The force of each push was enough to repeatedly rock his body back and forth along the carpet, even clinging to Papyrus as he was. He could feel his brother throb inside of him, the walls of his pussy feeling so stretched and so full with each pulse.

It was all too much, the dirty talk, the relief from his heat, the hard feel of Papyrus’s cock as he took care of him. Sans wasn’t thinking as he took initiative for the first time of the night, craning his head forward to kiss Papyrus fully on the mouth.

If the action surprised his brother, it was only for a moment. In the very next, Papyrus kissed him back in earnest, mouth parting to let Sans in and deepen their kiss.

Sans let his mouth trail to Papyrus’s cheekbone, squeezing him with his arms and starting to buck his hips under him to get more friction from each thrust. His face ended up rubbing onto Papyrus’s in a delirious nuzzle.

“Boss...Boss...it feels so good...it’s so good when you pound into me like that...”

He could feel Papyrus’s sharp grin against him, his breathless laughter brushing Sans’s bones. “I can tell from the way your pussy grips onto me that you like it, brother. You said you’d let anyone use you, but you were made for me. And I intend to make good on that claim.”

Sans heard a lewd, staggered moaning noise coming out of his own mouth, felt himself melting into the carpet. It was like Papyrus’s words alone could take care of him through his heat.

“Are you close, Sans?” Papyrus asked, grinding his cock inside of him.

The motion made Sans whimper.

“Yeah...”  

“Then ask me to let you come.” The firmness of his demand was tempered by the way Papyrus brushed another kiss to the side of his face as he said it, “Ask me to take care of you, brother.”

Sans’s breath hitched, his body slipping closer to the edge with each push on his hips. His hands slid down from Papyrus’s back to clutch his arms again.

“Please let me come...please let me come, Boss.”

A smile spread onto Papyrus’s face at that. It was downright sweet in the way it lit up his face, making his eyelights dance. A guileless expression during an act so filthy on all counts. His brother freed a hand to cup at Sans’s face, stroking it with a thumb, “As you wish.”

His brother backed away, tilting up until he was on his knees again with Sans still laid out in front of him. The motion pulled him partway out of Sans, and the emptiness felt unbearable. He couldn’t say anything about it though, not as Papyrus carefully brought each of Sans’s legs up and over his shoulders, repositioning them both till Sans’s pelvis lifted well up off the floor.

“Tell me when you come.” Papyrus directed, and that was all the warning Sans got before his brother pushed roughly back in, taking Sans from wanting to full in less than a second.

“AH!”

Sans’s claws dug into the carpeting, his spine arching from the force of the thrust. He just needed a little more. He was so close he was already seeing stars.

“God, look at you...” Papyrus had changed entirely from the mood he’d set earlier. No longer was he slowly thrusting into Sans, he was fucking him hard, slamming into his well-used pussy with his thickness. His hands held tight onto Sans’s hips as he did so, claws scraping against the bone in a way that made a shiver run up Sans’s spine, “Whining for my cock like this.”  

Sans could hardly believe it either, but something in Papyrus’s tone made him feel doubly desperate. If that had been a hint for him to beg more, it worked a little too well.

“I want it, Boss, your cock feels so good, please, I’m gonna—”

He could feel the effect his words had on his brother. Papyrus throbbed inside of him, a flash of something primal in his eyelights before he was taking hold of each of Sans’s femurs and spreading them further apart, leaving Sans completely laid bare. Papyrus stared down at him like that for a moment, focused on where they were connected, and then resumed thrusting into Sans, holding his legs in that open, vulnerable position.

Like this, Papyrus felt even bigger than before as he continued fucking him. It felt like too much, having him staring down at Sans and being so full of his girth and aching from the force of his motions.

“I’m going to come in you, Sans,” Papyrus promised, breathy and low, “I’m going to fill every inch of you with me.”

Sans let out a whimper, a pitiful, wavering sound that summed up how very much that was it for him. The wet, undulating contractions of his own release almost took him by surprise, but he remembered his brother’s instruction.

“I’m coming...” he whined out in a voice just as soft, after everything still managing to feel abashed that he’d come just from Papyrus telling him he was going to finish inside him.

“Good.” Papyrus replied.

The feeling of Sans’s walls squeezing and pulsing around him must have been enough, because it didn’t take much longer for Papyrus to start to groan and stutter in his movements. With a few more thrusts, his brother made good on his promise and Sans was full once more, Papyrus’s come warm and thick inside of him.

Sans felt his toes curling from the flood of sensation, pumping into him and seeping out around his brother’s cock, some already dribbling down the outer lips of his pussy to where he was sure it was going to make another stain on the carpet. Sans opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but for a moment he just let his tongue in the air to breathe, soaking in everything about how this felt. The tight edge of his heat was finally ebbing, undeniably given satisfaction.

“Ohh...Papyrus...”

His brother froze against him at the exhalation, staring with something close to shock. But his expression melted and in the very next second he was gathering Sans up into his arms and pulling him into a searing kiss. It seemed almost unprompted until his brother spoke again.

“I like the way it sounds when you say my name like that.” There was an unmistakeable fondness in his smile as he pulled back. “Perhaps we’ll have to keep it in mind for next time.”

“Y...yeah...,” Sans breathed, reaching his limit for how many times a night he could burst into flame.

“How are you feeling now? Any better?”

Inarguably so, in more ways than he could really count.

“Uh, yeah, it’s. The heat’s gone down a lot...” Sans gripped at Papyrus like he was in danger of floating away. “That...felt really, really good...”

“Of course it was good,” Papyrus harrumphed, but his tone was soft as his grip around Sans changed into a tight hug, “I’m more than capable of helping you through your heat, brother.”

Next time. Papyrus had said next time. But they couldn’t do this again. Right? Sans tried to collect himself, to find the words he would need to tell his brother, because clearly Papyrus had a different kind of idea about things. Except, the words were blocked by a flood of other thoughts. How a million doors opened because Papyrus felt this way about him. How this didn’t have to be just one secret night.

...so long as they kept their curtains drawn.

Was letting Papyrus do this a mistake?

“Boss...so...how long have...? I mean...why?”

He didn’t have to clarify. He could tell as much by the way his brother tensed. “A...while.” Papyrus said, vague but firm enough that Sans got the impression he wouldn’t elaborate even if pushed. “And what do you mean, why? Because I wanted to. Because you needed me.”

Sans’s mouth stayed open for a moment before snapping shut. What could he even say to that?

“Sorry I’m stupid, Boss.”

Papyrus snorted, pressing his face into Sans’s neck, “It’s been years, Sans. I’m used to it by now.”

“Heh.”

As embarrassing as it was for Papyrus to comment on Sans’s heat at all, Sans could now admit that his brother had been right all along when he kept telling Sans to keep track of the cycle with a calendar.

Why should Papyrus even know something like that. He’d been lucky enough to not have to deal with heats. But then, Papyrus was knowledgeable in a lot of areas, and always seemed to come up with clever, organized solutions. Just one of the many reasons he was such an impressive monster.

More to the point, not listening to Papyrus’s advice in this case had lead to Sans having no idea when his next heat would start—only the forbidding certainty that it would be sometime soon. It was like seeing dark clouds gather in the distance, not knowing the wind speed and how quickly they would bring the storm upon him.

If the ‘storm’ was being irrepressibly, unbearably horny.

So while Papyrus chose the tape for their weekly movie night with a grand flourish, Sans couldn’t even pay attention to the title as his leg jiggled on the couch and he stared at an ugly dark spot in the popcorn ceiling, thinking about when he’d start being in danger of stinking up the place and how many snacks he needed to hoard in his bedroom while he locked himself away to suffer his heat alone.

“Pay attention, brother,” Papyrus said as he took his place on the couch next to him, “this movie was quite popular when it first came out, I hear. It would be beneficial to study it closely.”

His brother shifted in place as he settled, fishing the remote out from where it had fallen between the cushions. In doing so, he leaned into Sans’s side. Once he had the remote in hand and pressed play, he didn’t move back into his original spot, ending up pressed close against Sans.

Sans didn’t like to disappoint the Boss even on the more inane things he insisted on, but this one could probably slide. He let the movie shift out of focus as he mulled over all the things he would have to make sure were done before he barricaded himself in his room for the cycle. A sudden embarrassing thought that his heat could start as soon as tonight, while Papyrus was leaning against him...that his brother would smell it...

Sans subtly scooted himself down the cushion, away from contact with his brother. If he started to feel hot, he’d have to just call it early for the night and excuse himself. Papyrus hadn’t seen him during his heat yet, and he wasn’t about to let that happen.

...this side of the couch wasn’t as cozy, though.

His brother most definitely took notice as Sans backed away from him, his eyelights darting away from the screen and at the new position Sans had made for himself. There was a slight tightening of his expression at that, probably displeased with how Sans’s fidgeting was distracting him from the movie. He didn’t say anything though, instead letting his arm fall back and rest against the back of the couch and redirecting his gaze to the screen again.

The opening scenes of the movie passed without much of anything, though Sans could see Papyrus repeatedly looking his way. He wasn’t sure if his brother was waiting for him to pass some sort of remark on what they were watching but it made the atmosphere shift from what should have been the usual movie night to something tenser. So, when Papyrus cleared his throat, the noise seemed almost too loud in the wordless silence between them.

“It’s interesting how the protagonists have known each other for years but don’t yet realise that they’re meant for each other, isn’t it?” He said, looking back at Sans expectantly.

Sans looked at the screen and tried to glean something from all he’d missed.

“It’s...interesting that they’re both blonde humans, I’ve heard that’s a pretty rare subspecies.” Sans snorted. “Makes ‘em look related.”

His brother frowned, looking displeased with the answer he’d gotten. He shifted in his seat, readjusting himself until he was leaning forward with both elbows resting against his femurs.

“Skeletons are a rare subspecies as well,” he mumbled, “perhaps we have more in common with them than is immediately apparent.”

With that said, Papyrus descended into a moody silence, somehow making the room feel even tenser than before. It was an uncomfortable handful of minutes before his brother gave a small sigh and relaxed his posture again, leaning back against the couch. His face still had his ever-present scowl on it but he didn’t seem as upset as he had moments ago.

The movie continued on in a predictable pattern, extremely different from the usual sort of films Papyrus tended to prefer. There was a distinct lack of on-screen battles and almost no car chases at all. He wasn’t sure the singular scene they were watching with the male lead getting in a taxi to follow after his love interest really counted either.

“This is quite a powerful part,” his brother commented as the taxi on screen flew down the street, “shows you that even though the leads may argue a lot, they really do care for each other.”

Papyrus was really serious about making Sans pay attention, wasn’t he? Sans tried to think up another answer while he wondered if he was actually starting to smell, or if he was being paranoid and it was just the sock still sitting in the corner.

“Yeah, that one...seems to care about the other one more than they hate airports,” Sans observed as the lead bowled through human security to shout to the love interest.

“That’s what good relationships are founded on. Affection for each other and forgiveness for minor grievances. The...the humans clearly love each other very much.”

“Sure, I mean, when you put it like that you could be talking about a lot of kinds of relationships.” Sans tried to surreptitiously sniff his jacket.

“If I was talking about relationships other than the romantic types, I would’ve said as much.” Papyrus snapped, seeming irrationally irritated by Sans’s innocuous observation.

Affection and forgiveness for minor grievances, though, Sans was fairly certain that described the two of them. It was possible a disarming statement like that could’ve baffled Papyrus out of annoyance, but...saying something like that out loud to his brother when he might be coming into heat felt like the height of awkwardness. Sans just shifted uncomfortably, trying to focus on the ending of the movie so he could answer whatever other quiz questions Papyrus was going to shoot at him.

The finale was just as easy to anticipate as the rest of the film had been. The humans had a tearful reunion with a frankly extraneous amount of sloppy kissing, and they returned home together, hand-in-hand. A quick look Papyrus’s way gave no insight as to how his brother was feeling about the display, and it didn’t seem like he was about to interrupt with yet another strange observation about the proceedings. He did, however, seem to perk up when the movie cut to an epilogue at the end, showing the couple enjoying their very first anniversary together.

They were dolled up and in an expensive looking restaurant, smiling and laughing with each other. There was an absurd amount of food on the table in front of them, far too much for the two small, wan creatures that they were. They gazed into each other’s eyes as they proclaimed their everlasting love for each other. The whole thing was very saccharine and kind of… boring as a whole.

Papyrus seemed entranced though, his eyelights never looking away for even a moment. It was only when the credits finally rolled that his brother’s intense focus seemed interrupted, and he picked up the remote with a considering look. It wasn’t obvious what he was debating, but he flicked the VCR off and stood up to do the same for the TV.

As he did so, he spoke: “It seems about time for dinner now. We should wash up.”

That sounded like a hint. Sans trudged to the bathroom, but he took another whiff of his sleeve partway there. Had Papyrus smelled something? Sans didn’t feel hot yet. After a slightly extended version of his usual ablutions, more out of paranoia than anything, Sans entered the kitchen.

And took one step back.

Papyrus had gone a bit beyond his usual exuberance. That movie must have really been an inspiration to him, because there was a meal good for at least five monsters spread on the table, and even though the ingredients weren’t as fancy, it was clear that some of it had been arranged to look like the movie. Without access to cocktail shrimp, Papyrus had filled two glasses full of ketchup and arranged curved peppers hanging around the rims.

“You uh, expecting guests tonight, Boss?”

“No?” Papyrus said, the quip going completely over his head, “it’s just the two of us. As per usual.”

His brother was still standing, putting napkins by their plates. After that, he turned around and picked up a candelabra that Sans had never seen before and placed it at the center of their table. He lit the candles on it and took his seat, all in one smooth motion.

“Take a seat, brother.”

Sans did so hesitantly, wondering how many leftovers they’d end up with. But then, it did seem promising for the hoarding he’d need for his little heat getaway. He raised one of the ketchup glasses in a toast similar to the one in the final scene of the movie.

“Cheers?”

Papyrus’s frown actually relaxed fractionally at that, so Sans must’ve been doing something right. His brother picked up his own glass, though this one seemed to simply be filled with water, and copied the motion, “Cheers.”

He reached out with his glass to clink together with Sans’s, his long arms easily making it over the food laid out in front of them. Papyrus pulled back with a smile before raising the glass back up to his mouth and taking a sip, still watching Sans from across the table. It was vaguely disconcerting the way he kept looking, actually. Like he was waiting for something to happen.

“So, Sans,” Papyrus started as he put his drink back down on the table, “How was your day?”

“Uh...” Papyrus had been there for at least half of it. “Watched a movie with my bro, learned about the similarities between humans and skeletons.” Sans lapped up a row of peppers like salt from a martini glass and took a swig of ketchup to wash them down. He gave a cough a second later. Either he was getting less tolerant, or these were hotter than he remembered.

There was that frown again. “I’m serious, Sans.”

Papyrus reached for another napkin and pushed it Sans’s way as he coughed, watching him with concern. He poured another glass of water out too, holding it out towards him with a pointed look. “We hardly ever just...talk.”

Sans tipped the water into the ketchup to dilute it a little, taking another drink.

“Oh...yeah?”

“‘Yeah’ ,” His brother parroted back at him, features scrunched up in disgust at the display. Though, even through the annoyance, there was something hesitant in his tone before he continued, “How...how have you been feeling lately?”

Sans hacked, some ketchup dribbling down his chin that he quickly wiped over with the napkin. Papyrus wasn’t a big fan of seeing his food from Sans twice.

“I’m...feeling...”

Sans’s first inclination would be to turn it into a joke, but that wasn’t getting a great reception tonight. But as for an honest answer, Sans wasn’t sure he had one.

“I’m feeling...grateful for your extra cooking lessons?”

Papyrus blinked at him, “You… haven’t even touched anything but the ketchup.”

Sans looked down at the spread, feeling confused. Papyrus was the one acting weird, wasn’t he? Had he ever asked Sans to tell him how he was feeling? How were you supposed to answer?

“It looks good? I don’t...I was getting to it.”

Sans’s foot tapped as he nervously went for another dish, suddenly feeling like he couldn’t hold still. The smell of the food almost seemed to grow stronger.

His brother opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again as Sans reached out to select another item to eat. He seemed uncomfortable somehow, which was almost reassuring considering how awkward the conversation so far had been. Still, it was unlike him to have something to say and choose not to say it. Papyrus had always been the type to act before really thinking it all the way through.

The meal progressed silently, both of them filling their plates. Papyrus continued to look distracted as he ate, to the point where he held up a spoonful of mashed potatoes to his mouth and promptly forgot to actually put it in before bringing the spoon back down for more. His brother only noticed when his spoonful was suddenly heaped, and he stared at it for a moment before putting the spoon down again with a sigh.

“Sans.” Papyrus folded his arms and held his gaze, “When do you think you’ll next be free?”

Something about the question was getting Sans to sweat. Or maybe it was the food. Sans almost brought a hand up to fan himself.

“I dunno but, Boss, did you put like...a lot of spice in dinner this time?”

His brother looked affronted. “What? I assure you that I’ve made no changes to my usual recipes. Perfection cannot be improved upon, brother.”

“That’s...yeah, you’re right, Boss.” Sans squirmed a little in his seat in discomfort. “I dunno, I’m just—”

Oh fuck.

Sans stood up in his seat abruptly.

“Sorry Boss, dinner’s really good but I guess I’m not, uh, feeling too great tonight. I’m just gonna—”

Before his brother could respond, Sans shot out of the room, only to make a U-turn and peek shyly into the kitchen again.

“....mind if I take a bunch of this to my room?”

Papyrus stared at him, mouth hanging slightly open. Sans’s request startled him out of it though, and he looked out at the food in front of him before glancing back up at Sans. His brother dragged a hand down his face, looking incredibly tired.

“Go ahead.” He said, flat.

Sans used the tablecloth to wrap up a sizeable portion in one go, sharply feeling Papyrus’s obvious disappointment despite his urgency to get to his room and hole up. Papyrus really had made a lot, and just for the two of them. For him and Sans. Feeling like a bit of a heel, Sans reached for something someone in that cheeseball movie his brother liked so much might do to smooth things out.

He sits ‘under observation’ with a healer for about two hours before his patience wears thin. It’s certainly not aided by the fact that they’re not even in the room with him, sitting just beyond the glass and watching in while jotting notes down on a clipboard. He can see them whispering to Undyne every few minutes, and every solemn curve of their lip just makes him angrier.

They keep treating him as if he’s simply a specimen to be studied.

He whips up off the examination table, paper crinkling underneath him. “Enough is enough.”

He stalks towards the glass and stands directly in front of his Captain and the nervous looking healer. They’re now holding the clipboard up to their face, as if preparing to use it as a shield from his outrage. Papyrus scowls at them, the barest fizzles of magic flickering at his fingertips as his irritation rises.

Beyond the glass, Undyne gives him a dark look and leans off to the side, pushing a button that turns on the intercom in the room. “Sit down, Lieutenant.” Though maybe she sees the restlessness in Papyrus’s frame because she adds, softer, “It shouldn’t take much longer.”

“With all due respect, your empty platitudes mean nothing, Captain. You’ve been saying that since the very start with nothing to back it up,” he bites out, glaring. Nevertheless, he sits as directed.

The healer leans in towards the mic. “M-my apologies, Lieutenant Papyrus. Perhaps if I-I was… better versed in the symptoms, this would go faster.”

“Or maybe you ought to consider that there aren’t any symptoms because there isn’t anything wrong with me,” he spits, crossing his arms stiffly.

Undyne snorts, “We bust a drug ring and you get sprayed with some concoction they scrounged up and you want me to believe that it did nothing to you?”

Sprayed isn’t quite right, actually. And it hadn’t even been aimed at Papyrus in the first place.

In reality, a vial of the obscure liquid had been popped open and flung at Undyne.

The Captain had burst into the place full-force, no regard for the usual tactics or any appropriate amount of stealth. She insisted, now, that it was because she believed that brute force was the only thing criminals like these understood. Privately, however, Papyrus nursed the belief that she had been feeling particularly vengeful about the whole thing. Guarded as she was about her personal life, it was no secret to him that what really drove her into a frenzy was that these felons had stolen chemicals from the haunted, young monster that was the Underground’s Royal Scientist.

She’d been so blinded by her rage that she hadn’t seen one of the thugs hurriedly reach into their pocket for a vial. In fact, standing in her blind spot as they were, it had been up to Papyrus to push her out of the way when they’d tossed the contents of the glassware at her. He’d moved on instinct, quick to shield his Captain and only friend from harm, but unable to avoid taking the hit for her instead. Though he’d done his best to angle himself away from the attack, he’d gotten splashes of the liquid directly into his scarred eyesocket for his troubles.

Undyne had been stunned in the aftermath, mouth agape as she stares at the shattered glass on the floor. She’d calmed some after that, more mindful of her actions—and concerned after him, if the glances she’d kept throwing him had anything to say about it. Papyrus had shrugged it off, feeling no ill effects. He waved away her concern, keeping focused on the task at hand. The rest of the sweep went cleanly; with Undyne back on her game, they’d taken down the offenders within minutes.

Papyrus had assumed nothing further would come of it but, as soon as they’d gotten back to Waterfall, Undyne had him hauled off to a private healer for observation.

He’s been here ever since.

Papyrus sighs heavily, swiping a hand down his face with tenuous patience. “Surely if it were something truly dangerous, we would have seen the effects of it by now.”

Undyne is unmoved and Papyrus nearly groans aloud at the look of stubborn resolve on her face. The healer, however, shifts uneasily from one foot to the other, avoiding his gaze.

Papyrus slowly looks back and forth between the two of them. “... did the perpetrator say something about it? Did they tell you what it would do to me? Is that why you’re so intent on keeping me here?”

Undyne purses her lips, nose wrinkling up in distaste as she scowls.

Papyrus fumes where he sits, bones feeling stiff with a creeping unfamiliar fear. “Captain, it’s ludicrous to keep information about my own health away from me—what did they say?”

She still doesn’t respond but Papyrus can see the confliction in her one good eye, misting her usual steely conviction.

He knows it’s playing dirty, but his soul is starting to pound with anxious uncertainty that he can’t stand. His body feels cold and uncomfortable, his fingers reflexively scrunching up into the thin, wax paper beneath him. So, he softens his voice and uses her name.

“Undyne. Please.”

She stiffens where she stands. Papyrus’s meets her eye and holds her gaze, imploring wordlessly.

Undyne nods gruffly at the healer. “Tell him.”

The monster shuffles forward, “W-well we… didn’t actually manage to get much out of the culprit…”

As Papyrus narrows his eyes at them, they speed on ahead, holding their hands up placatingly as they continue, “B-but that’s only for the nature of the compound itself! What we have managed to ascertain that a full dosage—as in the full contents of that vial—would’ve affected you for as long as two weeks. With no accurate way to measure how much of it actually entered your socket and was absorbed by your magic… we’d put the effects as lingering anywhere from a few hours to several days.”

“But you have no idea what these alleged effects would be?”

“None,” Undyne grits, bitter and caustic, “Bastard is as tight-lipped as they come. Even just getting a timeframe out of them took work. I’d suggest using a little force to get ‘em to come clean but—”

Papyrus looks up sharply at her, phalanges digging into the plush of the examination bed as he tenses.

Undyne gives him a wry look. “I didn’t think you’d be very happy with that.”

The healer looks bewildered by this and Papyrus is thankful for it. Undyne respects him enough that she keeps his ideals in mind whenever a case directly involves him and is honourable enough that she doesn’t breathe a word of it to anyone else. He doesn’t exactly try to hide the fact that needless violence is distasteful to him, but it’s not something he preaches about either. He knows that most would only see it as a weakness.

And he can’t afford to have any of those.

He eyes the healer carefully. “Where do you plan to go from here with the information that you do have?”

The healer leans forward again, clears their throat, “Ideally, to keep you out of harm’s way and under observation for anywhere up-to a week.”

“A week?” Papyrus exclaims, “You expect me to just sit here for a week?”

Neither of the monsters on the other side of the glass move to reassure him and Papyrus feel indignation raise up inside of him. “No. I will not stay trapped between these walls just so you can watch me and take notes. I am not a prisoner and I refuse to be treated as such. There must be something else we can do.”

Although it’s immediately apparent that she also feels uncomfortable about keeping him confined here—Papyrus can read it in the unhappy curl of her lip—Undyne shakes her head. “I can’t let you out in public when there could be something making you vulnerable, Papyrus. The Guard has enemies just waiting to take advantage of a moment like that.”

What she said makes complete sense of course, but Papyrus still can’t imagine staying here for the course of an entire week. He’d have nothing to do. Nothing to occupy his time at all but pacing and sleeping and making dull conversation with the healer. Maybe it would’ve been bearable if he were used to long periods of inactivity like his brother but—

Of course; his brother.

Papyrus straightens his spine and folds his hands neatly in his lap. “May I make an alternative suggestion, Captain…?”

Undyne narrows her uncovered at him. “What is it?”

“If the main issue here is that you want me safe from public scrutinization, surely that can be resolved by my staying home for the duration?”

Before Undyne can say anything, the healer begins to sputter, “B-but we need someone to observe any changes in—!”

Papyrus gives them a level glare. “My brother will be around to take note of any issues with me.”

“Sans?” Undyne scoffs, “He’d have to be awake longer than five minutes if he wanted to take note of anything past his god damn sheets.”

Papyrus holds back the burst of irritation that always springs up whenever someone makes a slight towards his brother. Instead, he gives Undyne a half-smile. “He does well enough as a sentry, doesn’t he? Even you have to admit that ever since he’s taken up post, not one disturbance has gone unaccounted for within his perimeters.”

Despite his brother’s numerous ‘breaks’ and how often he dozed on the job, Sans had a knack for always being in the right place at the right time. It made Papyrus as proud as it did infuriate him. Not that he’d tell Undyne that.

Or Sans, for that matter.

Undyne considers his words as if swallowing down something particularly repugnant. But she knows as well as Papyrus does that he’s right. “Fine.”

Papyrus lets himself relax, body relaxing fractionally where he sits.

“But,” Undyne adds on, stern as she presses a finger against the glass, pointing right at him. “If in the meantime, we discover that this is anything more dangerous than the non-issue it’s been so far, I reserve the right to drag your bony ass right back here, got it?”

Papyrus nods at her. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Now get up.” Papyrus rushes to his feet as Undyne steps aside to let the healer open the door with their keycard. “Let me take you home.”

Papyrus frowns. “I am not a child, nor am I a civilian. I am more than capable of closing the short distance between Waterfall and Snowdin on my own.”

“Papyrus—”

“Captain,” he interrupts, “If you walked me back to Snowdin, it would be a dead giveaway that something was out of the ordinary.”

Undyne is still hesitant, he can tell. It’s a partial mixture of guilt for putting in harm’s way simply because she was distracted, and worry because, although they never say it in as many words, they are friends.

“I will be fine,” he assures her and she must hear the certainty in his voice because she straightens up.

“Alright,” Undyne says, “But if you’re going alone, then I expect you to go straight home. No distractions on the way. No stopping for anything. Is that understood?”

Papyrus stands a little taller, his bones thrumming with restlessness, “Understood.”

“We’ll drop by periodically to check on you and to monitor any changes. For now though, you are dismissed.”

He’s out the door the second she finishes her sentence. He barely says goodbye actually, so eager he is to leave. He almost bowls the healer over in his haste, muttering an apology as they yelp and Undyne laughs. He hadn’t realised how antsy he’d gotten sitting inside in one place for such a lengthy amount of time. His brother would’ve loved such a situation no doubt. Sitting still in one place with explicit instructions to do nothing.

It feels like he can’t get home fast enough, and Papyrus increases his pace, quickly closing the distance to Riverperson’s ferrying service.

And then someone calls out to him

Papyrus doesn’t quite hear them clearly, but whatever they said makes him pause. His body feels stiff with the wrongness of it, Undyne’s insistence that he go home right away making him want to ignore the voice and continue forward. But as he takes another step, a spark of pain jolts in his body and he freezes in place.

“Hey! I said stop!”

Papyrus turns around and sees a small monster running up to him. He’s not normally so impatient, but he feels fidgety waiting for them as they approach, clearly short of breath. Undyne’s words echo in his head and the wrongness of ignoring her makes his bones itch.

“Finally,” they pant when they finally catch up to him, “I have been trying to get a hold of someone in the guard for ages! Seems like calling you up isn’t enough to be taken seriously anymore!”

Already, Papyrus can tell that this is going to be some sort of ridiculous complaint not worth his time. He’s the Lieutenant, not a babysitter. He wants to turn around and start going back home again.

It’s beyond him why he doesn’t.

“There are these… these hooligans! They’re always making a racket by my house every night. I’m not sure if they’re in cahoots or whatever, but either it’s loud, annoying music or banshee-like shrieks that plague me nightly and I’m growing absolutely sick of it.”

Papyrus sighs, “Have you filled out the—”

“Yes, I’ve filled out the complaint forms!!” The monster stomps their feet in punctuation, “I’ve done it a thousand times and still no one’s done a thing about them!”

“If you’ve filled out the forms then all that remains is for you to wait,” Papyrus recites on rote, “They are read in the order that they are received and then ranked by urgency so that the Guard can efficiently—”

“Don’t give me that ridiculous drivel,” the monster cuts him off and a bubble of annoyance begins to grow in Papyrus, “This is more important that whatever it is your silly Guard does all day. Making stupid puzzles in the forest or whatever.”

“Excuse me?”

The monster holds up a hand, “Let me finish.”

And even though Papyrus can feel that latent anger inside of him rise to a boil, he snaps his mouth shut. He wonders for a moment if this monster even knows who they’re talking to. He’s the Lieutenant. Second only to Undyne herself. He shouldn’t have to put up with this.

And yet he continues to stand there, bound by his duty to serve.

“All I want from you is the promise that you’ll take this up with the Captain.”

The Captain? They must be joking. This issue is so far beneath her that it’s laughable.

“Promise me,” they demand, certain that their problem is worth taking directly to the top, “Promise me you’ll talk to her about this the next time you see her.”

“I promise.” Papyrus says.

He pauses.

Blinks.

The monster beams at him, “Maybe you’re not as terrible at your job as I initially thought.”

And before Papyrus can reboot fast enough to respond to that, they’re on their way, whistling happily to themselves as they leave. Papyrus stands still, utterly confused as to why he bothered promising them anything at all. He supposed it did get them to leave but… he also wasn’t the type to break a promise.

He sighs, rubbing at his sockets tiredly.

He’d have to remember to bring it up with Undyne the next time he saw her.

Papyrus tries to put it out of his mind as he resumes his path towards the Riverperson, but something about the exchange still makes him feel out of sorts. Shoulders hunching up, he stays on high alert as continues through Waterfall, avoiding the gaze of the rare monster he passes in the darkness.

By the time he reaches the ferry, he’s feeling restless again. It’s like he can feel Undyne staring him down, disapproving because he’s still not home yet. Once they stop in Snowdin, Papyrus is damn near nauseous, his bones almost trembling with an inexplicable urge to get home as soon as possible.

He rushes out of the ferry and races forward so quick that, for the second time today, he knocks someone over. As he drags himself back up to his feet, he notices that it’s two rabbit monsters—the innkeeper and her son.

Part of him wants to help the child up, but the urgency to get home is stronger than ever now that he’s so close.

He turns away when a tiny voice calls up to him, “Apologise!”

He whirls back around to see the innkeeper shush her son while the boy continues glaring up at him fiercely, “You tore my brand-new scarf! Apologise right now!”

The innkeeper looks equal parts stressed and embarrassed. She obviously already knows that the Guard would never harm a child, but this sort of disrespect is unacceptable. Papyrus can’t just let this slide without reprimand.

Papyrus opens his mouth to scold the child. “I apologise.”

The innkeeper stares at him, eyes going wide.

Her son turns his nose up at him, “And remember to watch where you’re going next time!”

“I will.” Papyrus responds, as if on automatic.

The boy puffs out his chest, growing increasingly bold. “And… and give me your scarf! To replace the one you tore!”

Papyrus feels like his soul stops dead in his chest. His arms feel weighted as they come up to touch the fabric draped around his neck. He phalanges tremble as they run across the surface of it before gripping it tight. He feels a rush of indescribable dread, as he tugs at the scarf and feels it leave his neck bare.

Sans gave him this scarf.

Sans gave it to him back when they were kids and Papyrus had only needed to look to his big brother to know that things would be okay. After they’d gotten older and things had gotten difficult enough that their relationship had grown strained, it was often something Papyrus clung to in order to remember a time when things hadn’t seemed so bleak. It’s been ages since then… been forever since Papyrus had to rely on the feel of his scarf around his neck to know his brother cared, instead of the warmth of his embrace and the press of Sans’ mouth against his own, but he still can’t bear to let it go.

And yet, he takes it off anyways, phalanges shaking as he folds the fabric neatly into a bundle, his soul aching and socket itching when he tries to stop himself from doing something he so obviously doesn’t want too. He raises a hand up to rub at the itch, bones dragging against the raised edges of his scars. He grips tighter onto the scarf with his other hand, unwilling to let go.

His socket starts to burn.

The vial.

The thought hits him as he loosens his grip on the scarf and the burning sensation subsides.

This must have something to do with the liquid that got into his eye. He’d been feeling odd ever since he left the healer’s in Waterfall. Maybe it was slow to activate? It seemed relatively harmless at first but maybe now it was finally starting to take effect.

Or.

As Papyrus thinks over the events since the compound made contact with him, an uneasy realisation dawns. It occurs to him that it’s possible that the liquid had taken effect right from the start and it had only taken him till now to realise it. Soul beating rapidfire against his ribs, he makes the connection between all the encounters he’s had since then.

The drug must make it so that he’s obligated to fulfill any commands he’s given.

The only reason he hadn’t pieced it together sooner was because he’d been with Undyne. She was his Captain—it was practically second nature to him at this point to follow her orders. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. And the healer had been too meek to give him a direct command, relying on Undyne to do it for them so that they could inspect Papyrus properly.

But knowing what’s going on doesn’t mean he knows how to stop it, and Papyrus watches himself pass his bundled-up scarf towards the child even as his soul aches with the desire to keep it pressed against his bones. Every bit of hesitation makes a joint pain runs from his eyesocket straight to his core and Papyrus has to keep himself from visibly wincing. He grits his teeth against the pain as the boy reaches up to grab his scarf from him.

The innkeeper pushes her son’s arms down. “Lieutenant Papyrus, please don’t mind this foolish boy. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

The young monster frowns at his mother. “But—”

She gives him a silencing look before turning back to Papyrus. “We thank you for your generosity but, please, keep your scarf. A replacement is not necessary—the tear can easily be stitched back again.” She gives her son a pointed look. “Isn’t that right?”

The child kicks a foot against the ground, pouting. “Right.”

Papyrus’s arms fall lax and the scarf nearly tumbles into the snow, saved only by the strangled grip he’s reflexively kept in the fabric. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t know if he can. He feels choked with relief.

The innkeeper stares at him for a moment, looking hesitant. And maybe it’s only because he’s been so unusually generous with his time and patience today that she speaks, “If I may say, Lieutenant… you’re not looking the best today. You should get home as soon as possible. It isn’t right for a Guardsman to look so out of sorts in public.”

And just like that, the previous order from Undyne ignites anew in his chest, strengthened by the one from the innkeeper, and Papyrus is immediately turning on his heel. He forces himself to remain calm even as his soul races in his chest. He even manages to toss a wave back over his shoulder as he departs, though he still can’t manage to speak in his anxiousness.

Suddenly the distance between here and home seems too great, and Papyrus feels completely on edge as he walks back, frazzled thoughts expecting someone to pop up and command him at any moment. Paranoia makes him jumpy and twice he startles at the sight of something inanimate, thinking it’s a monster that’s snuck up on him. Apprehension threatening to overwhelm him, Papyrus squares his shoulders and ups his pace, walking as briskly as he can before someone else catches him.

By the time he reaches his front door, his head feels like a mess. He’s twitchy and wound-up and feels like he’s shaking all over. It takes him two tries too many to fumble open the lock and rush into the house and even once he’s in, his soul won’t stop pounding in alarm.

Papyrus sinks to his knees.

Papyrus rushes into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. His soul is pounding in his chest, thudding through his ribcage to beat against the package he holds pressed to his chest. It’s not often that he gets mail, but this… this he was expecting.

His brother isn’t due home for a couple of hours, even if Papyrus counts the ‘break’ he’s probably going to take at some point during his shift. Sans is predictable like that. Papyrus has his patterns down to a science—he doesn’t have to worry about being disturbed.

He can take his time.

Quickly, he locks his door and sets off towards his bed. He puts the package down on it, eyeing it over carefully. It looks completely innocuous. No labels anywhere and wrapped up in simple, brown paper. It’s completely discreet. No clue at all as to what maybe be hidden inside.

An eagerness thrumming in his bones, Papyrus moves to open it, careful not to tear the paper any more than he has to. He unwraps it thoroughly, folding the undone paper and setting it off to the side in order to reuse it in the future. That done, he looks down at the box that remains.

It’s a black, lacquered wood case with a magnetic clasp on it. He knows as much before even inspecting it because that’s what the specifications had said online when he’d purchased it in the first place. It’s an expensive purchase, but well worth it and he reaches out towards it with a trembling hand, opening it and peering inside.

Instantly, a flush casts over his cheekbones. He knew what he’d see, it doesn’t come as a surprise at all, but… somehow having it here in front of him now is entirely different from working himself up over a period of several days to buy it in the first place.

The box is a starter kit.

Or, at least that’s how the website had phrased it.

There’s a bunch of toys in it. Adult toys. Sexual things that practically make Papyrus’s soul quiver upon seeing them.

There’s quite a variety in it too, considering it was only an add-on to a bigger purchase he’d made. The kit includes lube and condoms and fuzzy handcuffs and candles and monster candy to power though more involved scenes—it’s all sophisticated and mature and Papyrus feels his chest puff up just seeing it. Best of all, every item bears the MTT symbol emblazoned on it, classy as always from the Underground’s most famous celebrity.

The true attraction, however, is the item in the middle.

It’s the whole reason Papyrus bought the bundle in the first place, and he picks his new purchase up with reverent hands. A vibrator, touted by Mettaton himself. It’s has a sleek black design with grey accents and hot pink focus to really bring the whole piece together. He’d had to save up for ages to get this, making sure to keep his purpose for sudden thriftiness hidden from his brother as he did.

And now he finally has it ready in his hands.

It doesn’t take very long for Papyrus to shuck off his clothes. He leaves them strewn about the floor, taking illicit pleasure with being messy in the heat of the moment. There’s a rush of excitement tingling up his spine as he flops down onto his bed, right on top of the covers. He flips face forward, staring down at the melting pool of magic centered in his pelvis.

He doesn’t even have to think before it snaps into the shape of a soft mound, his femurs trembling in anticipation. He’s wet already, just the thought of what he’s about to do enough to make his body warm. With the vibrator in one hand and excitement pounding through his soul, he raises a thumb to flick its switch.

It turns on with a loud, cacophonous buzzing that tears like a chainsaw through the silence and Papyrus feels like his soul almost stops.

He fumbles with the switch, flicking it off and grabbing it tight as it goes absolutely still and silent. He freezes.

He knows that his brother isn’t home and that it’s probably ridiculous to think that anyone outside will be able to hear the noise, but somehow he can’t stop himself from twisting up anxiously about it anyways. He knows that Mettaton is always talking about sex positivity and living life without shame but Papyrus, as Great as he is, still needs a little more time to work up to that. So, he waits for a few long minutes just to be certain and is relieved to find that the house remains silent. Not a peep to be heard save for his own shifting against the sheets. No one comes banging at his front door to demand what he’s doing either, so Papyrus feels that it's probably safe to let himself relax.

He turns the vibrator back on.

Maybe its because he’s calmer, but it does seem a little less deafening now that he hears it again. It’s still too loud for him to use discreetly when his brother is at home or anything but, for those scant hours he has all to himself, this is perfect. He almost regrets not investing in something a little quieter, but none of the other devices he’d found online had been personally endorsed and branded by Mettaton so, really, what choice did he have?

He considers the shaking device in his hand for only a second longer before brushing away his thoughts.

It doesn’t matter right now how loud it is or isn’t when the house is empty anyways.

Mind made up, he brings the vibrator down towards the slick lips of his pussy, already glistening with evidence of his excitement. The first touch of the vibe to the outsides of his conjured flesh almost make him jolt upright, so dissimilar from what he's used to. There’s a tingling sensation that seems to spread out from the point of contact, deep and pressing, further driving his need for more. It creeps all the way up to his clit, and just that first touch has Papyrus getting slicker at the thought of more.

Eager to experience the full range of what his purchase has to offer, Papyrus brings the vibrator back down to his pussy, continuing to tease along the outside lips and avoiding trailing too close to his clit. He’s learned from previous, more quiet indulgences that it takes him a bit to touch there without it being too much, and he’s happy to wait till some time passes before he applies any sensation directly to the nub of magic.

As it is though, Papyrus is already working himself up embarrassingly fast. It’s nothing like it is with his fingers, where he takes care of himself at a steady pace. He’s not much for dragging things out but even his usual tempo seems sedentary compared to the way the vibrator amps up his need to climax. He’s barely been at it for more than a handful of minutes when the urge to come is pressing at him with desperation. Eager for release, he moves the pink, vibrating head over the top of his clit and lets his head fall back as his body locks up, orgasm crashing through him and pulsing as the vibrator ceaselessly continues to work at his magic.

Papyrus gasps as his climax ebbs, grip slackening enough to let the vibe fall away from his throbbing pussy. He allows himself a few moments to enjoy the pleasure fuzziness of the afterglow before dragging himself up. There’s a soft grin that he can't wipe off his face, pleased as he is with how well his purchase has turned out for him. He's practically humming as he inspects himself and his surroundings.

He’ll need to clean up of course, even though he sort of wants to give it another go. His brother will be home from work in another hour at most and it wouldn’t do to have Sans hear him at it. So, he gives himself a good wipe-down with a clean towel and redresses himself in fresh clothes. He starts to tidy up when the sound of something outside his bedroom catches his attention.

It…

it sounds like…

… Mettaton?

Frowning, Papyrus finishes wiping down his new toy and replaces it back into the polished box it came in. He eyes the sheets and decides that they can wait till he’s discovered the source of the noise. With that dealt with, he unlocks his bedroom door and steps outside.

The sound is coming from downstairs.

Soul leaping up in his chest, Papyrus walks up a little further, peering down from the top of the railing.

There, in plain view on the couch, sits Sans, munching away on a bag of popato chisps. He doesn’t seem to have heard Papyrus come out of his room with how loudly the TV is blaring. He appears to be engrossed in whatever is on, and Papyrus is uneasy at the thought of having somehow missed the din of the program while up in his room.

He was distracted, yes, but surely if Sans had been sitting here and listening this loudly to something he would’ve heard it?

“SANS,” he calls down from the landing, willing his voice not to waver with nerves, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

His brother doesn’t seem at all surprised to hear his voice. He simply pauses from eating his snack to give him a grin, “just watching some tv, bro. i’d ask you what was up, but evidently it’s you, so.”

Papyrus huffs, making his way down the stairs to avoid any more wordplay about his position in relation to his brother, “YOU’RE HOME EARLY… WHEN DID YOU GET BACK?”

Sans shrugs, nonchalant, “a while ago.”

A flare of anxiety lights in his soul at that and Papyrus attempts to smother it immediately. There’s no way Sans could have heard the noises from his room. If he had, he’d have said something about it, wouldn’t he?

He… he must’ve just come home.

“HOW LONG AGO?” He asks, trying not to seem to desperate to know the exact answer, “I DON’T THINK UNDYNE WILL APPROVE OF YOU CUTTING OUT EARLY.”

“m’not cutting out early,” Sans says, “just cashing in on the vacation days i’ve got saved up. ended up takin’ the whole week off.”

“VACATION DAYS?” Papyrus scoffs, momentarily distracted, “WITH ALL THE UNSCHEDULED BREAKS YOU TAKE, I DIDN’T THINK YOU’D HAVE ANY.”

“heh, well i guess that just means that even undyne is weak to my charms.”

Papyrus rolls his eyelights as his brother, “AND WHAT CHARMS ARE THESE? THE TERRIBLE JOKES OR THE KETCHUP STAINED HOODIE THAT YOU REFUSE TO LET ME WASH.”

“both.”

“UGH, YOU ARE IMPOSSIBLE.”

Before he can really dig into scolding Sans on his frustrating habits however, the program on TV switches out for a commercial. Suddenly, Mettaton is on screen in his handsome box form, a glitter clustered, pink apron tied around him and a kitchen at his back. His voice drowns out all conversation as he speaks.

“Tired of all your day-to-day work?” He says, and Papyrus goes stiff in his seat, “Need something to soothe your aching muscles?”

Oh no.

“Well, there’s no reason to fret, darlings~ I have exactly what you need.”

He knows what commercial this is.

He scrambles for the TV remote, bouncing around in his seat as he frantically presses his hands at the cushions, searching all around him. His brother watches him, confusion and a trace amount of amusement playing about his features. The seconds wind down as the commercial plays on but the blasted thing isn’t anywhere on the couch.

“With the brand new, MTT Brand Personal Massager, you too can wind down in the way worthy of a star~!” His idol crows and Papyrus resists the sudden urge to fade into the background as the image on screen shifts focus.

And there it is, center view, the brand-new vibrator that Papyrus has up in his room in full HD gloriousness.

They’re not marketing it that way, of course. It’s still too early in the day for that, despite the fact that certain MTT channels are marked ‘adult’ from the start. But beyond the razzle dazzle of clips of Mettaton using the ‘massager’ on his arms and legs— “he doesn’t even have muscles.” Sans quips—it’s very obvious what the true purpose is for the device on screen.

Especially paired with the way Mettaton winks and toys with it, finishing the commercial off with a patented moan of ‘ohh yesss~’.

And even if it wasn’t obvious to those watching on TV, it would’ve been obvious to anyone with an UnderNet connection.

Papyrus certainly knows what it is. There’s no doubt in his mind that Sans does too.

He can feel his face burn as his brother continues to watch.

“SANS…” he says, unable to stop the words from coming out in his anxiousness, “WHEN DID YOU COME HOME? IT SEEMS STRANGE THAT YOU’D RETURN AND IMMEDIATELY START WATCHING TV WITHOUT EVEN DROPPING BY TO GREET ME.”

“what, can’t a guy watch some quality Underground entertainment after a hard day at work?” But that answer is just not enough.

“SANS.” Papyrus says, soul pounding in his chest at the thought of being found out before he’s really even had a chance to enjoy everything his new toys have to offer.

Will he have to put them all away? Or will he just have to suffer through endless amounts of teasing from his brother once he discovers Papyrus’s secret.

Or, worse.

Will he find out the real reason Papyrus went out and bought the items in the first place? Desperate to distract himself from how much he wanted his—

“look bro,” Sans sighs, rubbing self-consciously at the back of his neck, “i just figured i’d give you some privacy. you clearly didn’t expect me to be home so early, and when i came back you—”

Panicking, Papyrus flings the first excuse he can think of at his brother, “IT WAS A REMOTE-CONTROL CAR!”

“i, uh…” Sans blinks at him, “… what?”

“A REMOTE-CONTROL CAR,” Papyrus repeats, more confidently this time, thankful for his stroke of genius, “A TOY I PURCHASED. I WAS… TESTING IT OUT WHILE YOU WERE AT WORK.”

“a… toy car…”

“YES.”

“you were testing it…?”

“YES.” Papyrus says again, resisting the urge to fidget in his seat. He rarely lies, and rarer still to Sans. It feels awkward doing it now but it’s necessary in order to make sure his brother doesn’t get the wrong—or, technically, right—idea. He doesn’t actually know if his brother heard anything at all, but the doubt is enough to make him want to nip it in the bud while he still has that option available to him.

 “so, let me get this straight,” Sans watches him, bewildered as he speaks, “the reason you were locked up in your room when i came home was because… you were testing out a remote-controlled car alone in your bedroom?”

“THIS IS NOT A DIFFICULT CONCEPT TO GRASP, SANS.”

His brother gives him a long look, “bro, listen—”

“ANYWAYS,” Papyrus interrupts him, thinking quick, “I HAVE DECIDED THAT CARS ARE MY NEW PASSION. IT IS LIKELY THAT I WILL BE TESTING OUT FURTHER CAR RELATED ACTIVITIES DURING MY FREE TIME.”

“uh…”

“DO NOT MIND ANY NOISES THAT YOU HEAR COMING FROM MY BEDROOM IN THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE, BROTHER.”

“and by noises you mean… car… noises…”

“OF COURSE. WHAT ELSE COULD I POSSIBLY MEAN.”

Sans stares at him for a moment longer before finally looking away. He shrugs his shoulders and goes back to his bag of chisps, “yeah, ‘course. sorry bro, my bad.”

And that was that.

Or, least it should have been.

The fact of the matter is, Sans is home for the week, no work to distract him, and Papyrus feels uncomfortable with the idea of using the vibrator with him somewhere nearby.

He’s not naïve. He knows that his excuse won’t hold up to scrutiny if he actually tries to get off while his brother’s in the house. And, besides, there is something inherently embarrassing about pleasuring himself while his vibe loudly proclaims his actions to the world. Even if he waits till Sans goes out to Grillby’s or to the store, he can’t time it well enough to make sure he gets to enjoy himself before his brother gets back.

He just can’t risk it.

… not yet, anyways.

If he can make his brother buy into this… make Sans unerringly believe that he was absolutely serious about the sounds being a toy car… then maybe it’d be enough.

All it really takes it a swift purchase on the UnderNet and priority shipping to have the item delivered overnight. So, when Sans comes back from a brief foray to the bar the following day, Papyrus is ready and waiting.

As soon as his brother comes through the door, Papyrus let his purchase zoom out in front of him.

“whoa, what the heck?!” Sans yelps, stumbling backwards as a brand new, remote-controlled car zips past him.

“OH, I DID NOT SEE YOU THERE, SANS.” He says, just a hint smug at his ingenious plot, “MY APOLOGIES.”

Sans stands in place, clutching leftovers from Grillby’s in a brown paper bag while he stares between Papyrus and the car.

It’s MTT brand—only the best for the Great Papyrus, of course—and everything about it is as lovely as the expensive new toy Papyrus had bought himself prior to this. If he really was the automobile enthusiast he claimed to be, this would’ve been on his wishlist from the start. Beyond all that though, the best thing about it is that it’s loud and noisy.

Not quite the same as his vibrator, but more than enough to confuse his brother into believing him if he plays his cards right.

“BUT I SUPPOSE THIS IS JUST AS WELL SEEING AS HOW YOU WERE SO BEFUDDLED BY MY NEW PURCHASE YESTERDAY.”

His brother remains silent, staring at the car as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. It almost makes Papyrus smirk. He has Sans right where he wants him.

“WOULD YOU LIKE TO TEST IT OUT BROTHER?” He offers magnanimously, “AS A TOY CAR CONNOISSEUR, I’D RECOMMEND THE SECOND FLOOR. THE FLOORING THERE IS MORE EVEN. YOUR ROOM IS LIKELY A HIDEOUS MESS THOUGH, SO YOU ARE MORE THAN WELCOME TO USE MINE. THAT’S WHERE I’VE BEEN DOING THE MAJORITY OF MY CAR RELATED ACTIVITIES ANYHOW.”

The offer seems to be enough to draw Sans’ attention back towards him. Sans’ expression is hard to read but Papyrus can’t say he sees any suspicion in his features. Instead, his brother just gives him his usual smile, “nah bro, that’s alright. i’ll pass.”

Papyrus frowns, lowering the remote in his hands, “NOT EVEN GOING TO TEST IT OUT A LITTLE?”

“m’kinda beat actually,” Sans says, yawning as he says it, “been plannin’ on taking a nap, to be honest. you, uh… you feel free to play with your car though. i’m sure i’ll sleep right through the noise.”

There is it.

A perfect, golden opportunity to use his vibrator again.

His brother may not know it, but he’s practically handing this opportunity to him on a silver platter. Sans isn’t just saying he’ll sleep right through it to be polite—his brother sleeps though the loudest of noises; Papyrus’s morning wake up calls, the annoying dog causing havoc around the house, everything. If he wants to be careful about it, he can take his car back up to his room, play with it till sufficient time has passed for Sans to conceivably fall asleep, and then replace it for his vibrator. His brother would never know.

It should be easy.

“alright, i’m gonna head on up,” Sans says, as mellow as ever, “see ya at dinner, paps.”

It should be just.

That.

Easy.

… but.

As Sans trudges up the stairs, enters his room and shuts the door, Papyrus stays rooted in place at the bottom floor with his remote-control in hand.

In fact, when Sans eventually emerges from his room, literal hours later, Papyrus is still downstairs.

He’d spent the time Sans slept fixing dinner and watching reruns of old MTT favourites on TV. The car is next to him on the couch when his brother rejoins him, but Sans doesn’t mention it and Papyrus leaves it be as well. They sit down, they have a nice dinner—Sans tells him he’s improved markedly from the last meal he made—and it’s all excellent except for that boiling frustration inside Papyrus that continues to rise each time he has to stop himself from using his new-found method of stress relief.

He just can’t risk it with Sans around.

It's not just the embarrassment of his brother catching him at something so personal. It's not even that he and Sans have never really had a proper conversation about this sort of thing beyond a cursory explanation of what skeleton monsters could do with their magic. It's the chance that Sans might question him about it. That he might ask why Papyrus wants this, or why he prefers it to finding a partner instead. And… he can't tell Sans that. He can't.

And so, the next day of Sans’ torturous week-long vacation is much the same. 

His brother lingers and Papyrus frets, but there’s nothing he can do to change his situation into something more favourable. He spends the day vigorously cleaning and cooking and his brother chats with him casually through it all. The frustration is almost reaching a spilling point when, blessedly, Sans disappears.

Papyrus isn’t entirely sure what he left for, doesn’t even know if his brother has gone out long enough for him to actually do something about the sexual dissatisfaction winding up inside of him, but he rushes to his bedroom the moment he discovers he’s alone. He's been putting it off for so long that at this point he doesn't even care that he has no idea when his brother will come back. He can be quick. He can get at least some sort of tension to bleed out of him before Sans returns.

But he’s only just pulling out the box from where he has it stored inside his closet when there’s a knock at his locked door that makes him jump.

“Y-YES?” He calls, mentally reproaching himself for feeling so disappointed when he should’ve known better than to think Sans would be gone for any extended period of time.

“wanted to show you something, paps.” His brother responds from outside.

Giving the box in his hands a longing look, Papyrus puts it back into his closet with a groan before returning to his door. He unlocks it and pulls it open, seeing his brother standing there and looking up at him with a grin.

“got you something.” He says, eyelights practically sparkling with excitement.

He pushes past Papyrus and into the room, taking a seat at the edge of Papyrus’s bed and settling a small, gift-wrapped box into his lap. He pats the space next to him and inclines his head. Papyrus raises a browbone but takes the proffered space.

His brother passes him the box, almost giddy with enthusiasm, “open it.”

Papyrus is bemused but does as Sans says. He carefully pulls back the wrapping paper, making sure not to tear it, as prudent as he had been with his own purchase two days ago. Slowly, he works the package open, blinking down at the revelation.

“A… MODEL CAR.”

“yeah,” Sans says, wide, bright grin on his face, “i felt bad about not appreciating your new pastime the other day, even after you specifically asked me to try out your new remote-control car, so i figured i’d do something to make it up to you.”

Papyrus stares at the car, clutching it tight in his hands. Its bright, red, plastic-y shell glares back at him mockingly from inside its box.

“I…”

His brother watches him, searching his face, “what’s wrong? do you not like it?”

“IT’S…” Papyrus makes an effort to steady his voice, “IT’S FANTASTIC, BROTHER. THANK YOU. I… HAVE NO WORDS.”

Sans looks relieved, “well, i mean it’s not that great, but i’m really glad you like it. and hey, i promise to take more of an interest in your hobbies from now on too, alright? no more taking naps when i could be spending time with you.”

Papyrus watches his brother, scouring his face for any trace of a joke.

Sans seems entirely sincere.

Papyrus feels his whole body burn with guilt and shame, “THAT… WOULD BE LOVELY, SANS. I WILL LOOK FORWARD TO IT.”

His brother leans into him at that, resting his head against Papyrus’s side.

Weighted with self-reproach, Papyrus leans back, sharing in the quiet with Sans.

  The next day, Sans buys two more model cars for Papyrus and pairs it with a small pack of plastic cars for kids. Papyrus accepts it with grace, even going as far as to play with the smaller cars while is brother is in the room so that Sans can see how much he appreciates the gesture. And he does, really, more so because it’s his fault his brother even thinks he wants it in the first place.

The day after that, Sans brings in a whole stack of car magazines.

Some are from the librarby, some are clearly the type that have been gathered from the dump and have passed through numerous hands. Sans spends the day reading them in plain view of Papyrus, seated on the couch, not a care in the world. When Papyrus fidgets close to him, wary about the magazines, his brother leans in to show the books off. He promises that he’s learning as much as he can to make sure he’s up-to-date with all the knowledge Papyrus has on the subject.

Papyrus feigns interest as best he can, sweat breaking out over him at having to pretend he knows anything at all about cars that most monsters wouldn’t. And when Sans reads him a few articles from the magazine instead of his usual bed time story, Papyrus squirms with dissatisfaction under his sheets, regret palpable in the air around him.

But none of that—none of any of that—compares to the ‘gift’ Sans bestows upon him on the very last day of his impromptu vacation.

Papyrus stands dead still in his room, his eyelights not quite sure what they’re seeing.

“so whaddya think, bro?”

He can’t find the words.

He works his jaw uselessly a few times but no sound comes out.

“couldn’t find a place that was willing to ship all the way from new home to snowdin, so i just went and picked it up myself.”

Sans… got him a new bed.

Sans got him a race-car shaped bed.

“… papyrus?”

“I…” He forces himself to speak aloud, pushing past the absolute mortification, “I… DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN.”

The expression on his brother’s face is soft, “like a dream come true, huh?”

A nightmare, more like, “THAT’S… CERTAINLY ONE WAY TO PUT IT.”

“i’m glad you like it, paps,” Sans says, smiling gently at him, “i wanted to do something special to end the week with. i know i took days off to spend more time with you since i’ve been so busy lately, but somehow it still seems like it ended too quickly and that we didn't spend enough of it hanging out.”

Papyrus snaps his gaze back at his brother, “WAIT. YOU TOOK THAT TIME OFF… FOR ME?”

“yeah, ‘course i did. it’d been a while since you and i just hung out and… i don’t know… guess i just missed you, is all.”

In an instant, Papyrus goes from feeling that ever pervasive sense of guilt in the background to it springing up forefront and flooding him with the reminder that he's the worst brother around.

Sans took time off to spend with him and Papyrus had spent the whole time trying to get rid of him instead. He should’ve spent the week making up for every moment the two of them couldn’t get their schedules to match up enough to enjoy each other’s company. Not to mention that his brother had gone through all the trouble of trying to show an interest in his fake hobbies just because he thought Papyrus genuinely enjoyed them. And for what?

No. He couldn’t let Sans’ efforts go to waste.

He had to savour the gifts Sans gave him fully.

Immediately he reaches down and swoops Sans into a hug, lifting him fully off the ground, “THANK YOU, BROTHER. FOR EVERYTHING.”

There’s a burst of warmth in his soul as his brother chuckles and wraps his arms around him, hugging him back just as tight, “anything for you, bro.”

The rest of the night Papyrus devotes to making sure he showers his brother with as much attention as possible. Sans tells him terrible jokes and Papyrus meets him with witty rebuttals, prompting more and more laughter from his brother with each breath. They sit down for a movie at the end of the night and go their separate ways for bed with souls light and smiles on their faces.

That’s the thought Papyrus tries to hold onto the next day as he sits in his race-car bed with his vibrator in hand.

The week was over and Sans was finally back at work—Papyrus would have all the time he needed to finally, finally, use his toy to its full potential.

Except.

There’s something incredibly awkward about pleasuring himself in a bed shaped like a car that he had received through a series of convoluted lies to his one and only family.

Even without the lies plaguing him, it was still a race-car bed. Somehow touching himself in it seems… inappropriate.

In the end, he’s too conflicted to do more than stare at the sleek device before returning it to its place in the closet. The feeling just wasn’t right and, even though his frustration was ramped up to incredible levels, turning on the vibrator and hearing the noise it made while laying in a bed that had literal wheels was sort of killing the mood entirely. It’s obvious to him now that if he’s ever going to get any use out of his toy, he’s going to have to make things go back to normal.

He needs to come clean about it with his brother.

So, when Sans comes home from work, Papyrus decides it’s high time to have a talk. Preferably starting with a request to take all the gifts back.

He doesn’t want to make his brother feel bad about it, though. Maybe he’ll just explain that his interests have evolved. It’s no fault of Sans’ after all that the Great Papyrus has many tastes and this one was fully explored in a short amount of time.

And then, once that was out of the way, he’d talk to Sans about… more personal matters.

He waits for his brother to shuck his shoes off by the door and change into his slippers before he patiently waves Sans over to sit with him on the couch. His brother frowns in concern but comes and sits down immediately. He peers into Papyrus’s face, trying to make eye contact even as embarrassment and nerves keep Papyrus from doing the same.

“everything alright, bro?”

“YES… YES, I…” He takes a second to gather himself, “SANS, I WOULD LIKE TO DISCUSS YOUR RECENT GIFTS.”

His brother raises a browbone at that, curious, “… yeah?”

He fidgets in place, unsure of how exactly to broach the subject. Failing to find a good segue, he blurts it all out in a rush of breath, “I FIND MYSELF THINKING THAT MAYBE THEY ARE BEST RETURNED.”

“oh…” Sans’s voice is so quiet that it tugs painfully at Papyrus’s soul, “… all of them?”

“YES. ALL OF THEM,” Papyrus nods, trying to be firm despite how much he wants to reassure his brother that he appreciates the thought. He meets Sans’ gaze at last, unable to stop himself from looking up to gauge his brother’s reaction, “ESPECIALLY THE BED.”

“huh…” Sans says, an indecipherable look on his face, and Papyrus is so forlorn with the thought of letting his brother down that it takes him a bit to process the next sentence, “bed not giving you good vibes, bro?”

“NO, NO, IT’S NOT THAT, I JUST—”

There’s a pause.

Papyrus processes.

Sans is looking up at him, a wide, wide grin on his face and eyelights bright with laughter. There’s a smugness to his expression that makes the heat rise to Papyrus’s face and a giddiness to his posture that makes him reel.

“WAS THAT—” Papyrus starts and stops. His soul is pounding, and every second he stays quiet is a second that Sans spends shaking with the tremors of barely restrained laughter, “SANS, YOU—

His brother can’t seem to hold it back anymore, erupting in a fit of hysterics. Tears spring up in Sans’ sockets as he laughs, leaning over on himself as he snickers endlessly.

“YOU KNEW.” Papyrus accuses, mortified with what that means for everything that’s happened.

 “oh god.” His brother pants between peals of laughter, “i’m—m’sorry, pap, i just—i couldn’t resist.”

“COULDN’T RESIST?!” Papyrus feels hot all over. He knows, distantly, that this is probably something he’ll look back at and groan at, shaking his head with amusement but for now, there’s a childish need in him that screams for payback, “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH I’VE BEEN RESISTING?! I’VE BEEN WORRIED SICK ABOUT MAKING TOO MUCH NOISE AND YOU FINDING OUT! AND NOW I DISCOVER THAT YOU KNEW FROM THE START?!”

Sans laughs so hard that he snorts, holding around underneath his ribs as he continues to guffaw.

“THOUGH…" An idea springs to mind, "I SUPPOSE AT LEAST NOW I WON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT HIDING IT, WILL I?”

His brother’s laughter putters off and he wipes the stray tears from his sockets, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

With a flash of something playfully retaliatory, Papyrus grips onto his brother’s arm, “IN FACT, NOW THAT YOU KNOW, MAYBE I OUGHT TO SHOW YOU WHAT I’VE REALLY BEEN ENJOYING RECENTLY.”

Sans gaze fixes on where Papyrus has his arm tight in his grasp, “pap, wh—”

Papyrus tugs his brother up by the arm till he’s standing and proceeds to walk, Sans yelping and being dragged along behind him. At the foot of the stairs, he turns to sweep his brother into his arms, ignoring the way Sans protests as he’s taken upstairs. It takes mere moments before they’re in Papyrus’s room, and he drops Sans into his bed without ceremony. His brother bounces as he lands, falling on his back and scrambling to get up as Papyrus walks over to his closet.

“u-uhm… bro?”

Papyrus takes out his pristine black box. After so many days of looking at it filled with yearning, it’s a thrill in its own right to rifle through it. He peers over it the contents and eventually decides that simple is best for this first go around. He takes out a packet of lube, the handcuffs and, of course, the main attraction.

He turns around with all the items in hand and Sans’ eyelights instantly snap up to them, face flushing a pretty shade of blue.

“what, uh… whatcha got there, paps?” Sans croaks, voice breaking on a nervous laugh.

“PLEASE, SANS,” He rolls his eyelights as he approaches his brother, kneeling onto the bed and crouching towards him, “I WON’T FALL FOR YOU BEING OBLIVIOUS AGAIN.”

“papyrus, i…” Sans trails off as Papyrus tosses the items just to the side, still within arm’s reach on the mattress. He keeps only the handcuffs on his person, twirling them around in a manner he’s seen before on alluring videos in the raunchier parts of the UnderNet. He takes pride in the way it draws his brother’s line of sight as he does so.

“I BELIEVE SOME PUNISHMENT IS IN ORDER.”

He’s never practiced that purr in private so he’s pleased when it comes out just the way as he intended. Sans blushes a bright cyan at his words, sockets widening with shock. His brother seems frozen in place as Papyrus leans over him, carefully taking his hands and cuffing them together.

“NOW, BROTHER,” Papyrus says, inordinately gratified with how well everything is going, “DRAW OUT YOUR SOUL.”

Sans startles at the command, “w…what?

“YOU SOUL, SANS.” He repeats, patient for his brother’s rapidly dwindling senses.

Sans seems flustered, “i… i don’t know if… pap, i’m not…”

And the hesitation on his face immediately makes Papyrus reconsider what he’s doing, a pulse of worry going through him that he’s overstepped his bounds. He’d gotten so caught up in the moment, he hadn’t even thought to ask if Sans was okay with this. He’d just jumped on the opportunity to have this with his brother. Like some sort of fantasy come to life.

What was he even doing?

Papyrus immediately slumps, more nervous and unsure about his actions than he’d been at the start.

“IT’S. NOT NECESSARY OF COURSE,” He says quickly, looking away from him, “I JUST WANTED TO—I WOULDN’T HURT IT OR ANYTHING. I JUST THOUGHT THAT MAYBE I WOULD—IT’S FINE THOUGH, I SHOULD’VE ASKED YOU FIRST, WE REALLY DON’T HAVE TO DO ANYTH—”

His blabbering is interrupted by a pure white glow in the corner of his vision.

Papyrus turns his head back to see Sans’ soul shining brightly out in the open, hovering just above his t-shirt. It pulses and gleams vibrantly, striking in the dimly lit room. His brother has his head turned to the side, attempting to shield his burning face with his bound hands.

“IT’S BEAUTIFUL, BROTHER.” He says, reverent, wondering why Sans wouldn’t want to share such an exquisite part of his being.

The wondering only lasts for an instant though, because as soon as he holds it, he’s flooded with a wave of deep, unyielding love that courses through his bones and hits his own soul with a crash. The feeling is so powerful that it makes him bend forward, curling in around the soul in his hands. He knows then, without a doubt, that his brother’s feelings for him are rooted within his very core, identical to his own for Sans. He's been worrying about rejection for no reason at all. The genuine push of emotion spilling from within Sans' soul makes the beginnings of tears press at his sockets, and Papyrus is only very dimly aware that his brother immediately tries to tamp down on the out-pour.

“s-sorry, sorry, i—”

Papyrus leans over him in an instant, wishing he could banish every reproachful emotion Sans’ soul is signalling away. He turns his brother's face towards him with his free hand and stares. Sans doesn’t meet his eyes, face still flushed and expression pained.

Papyrus presses a chaste kiss down against his teeth, “I LOVE YOU TOO, SANS.”

He doesn’t have his soul out to touch his brother’s—that’d be too much, too soon; they hadn’t even gone on a proper date yet! They were skipping so many steps! —but he lets the feeling radiate out of him anyways as he gently strokes the surface of his brother’s soul. He focuses on the feelings he’s let build up inside of him over so long, all the love and appreciation and reassurance, and let’s them flow through the connection he has with his brother’s core in his hands.

He knows that Sans feels it when he sees the tears start to spill down his brother’s face.

“SHH, NONE OF THAT,” Papyrus scolds lightly, drawing his thumbs more purposefully over the rippling surface of Sans’s soul, “PERHAPS PUNISHMENT WAS TOO HARSH A TERM FOR WHAT WE’LL BE ENGAGING IN. I’D RATHER OUR FIRST TIME WAS A LITTLE SOFTER TO BE HONEST.”

His brother seems to be speechless, too overcome with feeling to really voice any one in particular. But his soul is honest and it pulses with a longing so intense that Papyrus nearly misses the small nod Sans gives him. He smiles winningly down at his brother, ready to reassure him of his adoration, and continues to massage the soul in his hands. He rubs small circles with his thumbs along the surface, watching as his brother squirms underneath him, making sure his touches are light enough that it doesn’t do more than tease.

He may have read about these things and researched them for his own use beforehand, but there’s something entirely different about doing this with a partner. Papyrus can’t help the full-bodied shiver that runs through him as Sans groans at a particularly bold stroke, body arching up into him. Papyrus feels warm all over, face flaming with the heat of his magic and the image of his brother writhing beneath him more than enough to get him worked up.

“SANS…” he whispers, and it only takes one look downwards to see the surface of his brother’s soul now so slick that it’s dripping. The sight of it assures him that his brother is more than warmed up and ready for what he has in store, and Papyrus stops stroking the soul in order to prepare. His brother takes issue with that, immediately squirming beneath him when his fingers cease in their motions.

“god… god, papyrus, don’t s-stop… why did you—”

Just barely away from the surface of Sans’ soul, Papyrus flicks on the vibrator.

“AHNN—FUCK!” Sans shouts and Papyrus is so entranced with the way his brother’s whole-body arches up as he screams, soul nestled safely in his palm and emanating intense pleasure, that he doesn’t even remember to chide him for his language.

The vibe isn’t even properly touching his brother’s soul and Sans is on the verge of release. It’s on the lowest setting, the simplest pulse, but there’s something to be said for brushing vibrations over the core of a monster’s being. The ripples through the air, just the scantest space away from the dripping soul in his hand, are more than enough to have his brother twisting in the sheets under him begging for more.

“papyrus,” Sans gasps, bound hands scrabbling for purchase in a way that has his mouth running dry at the sight, “papyrus—pap, please.”

And, maybe it should be embarrassing but, just seeing Sans like this is enough to overwhelm him. It feels like his whole body has shut down, watching his brother beg for him with so much longing in his voice. There’s not much about this experience that isn’t entirely new for him, but something tells him that this look, this image of Sans pleading for release, is something that’ll never grow old no matter how many times he sees it.

“papyrus.” Sans pleads again, voice strained and body quaking, and that’s finally enough to drive him back into action.

He goes back to rubbing at Sans’ soul, this time with a set goal in mind. He lets his phalanges dance across the surface, pouring in all his love and warmth and admiration for his brother into every stroke. Sans is actually straining underneath him now, tears of pleasure streaming down his face and saliva trailing out of his open mouth.

Careful but deliberate, just as Sans seems to reach his peak, Papyrus lets the vibrator touch the surface of his soul.

The reaction is instantaneous.

His brother comes with a cry, his soul thrumming with something damn near like an explosion as he finishes, a radiant surge of magic shooting through it and into Papyrus’s core. The sense of completion is so strong it leaves his knees weak, bliss and serenity rocking through him like an echo of what his brother just experienced. Sans’ soul continues to drip steadily down his hand and Papyrus gathers himself enough to gently lick it clean with his tongue as his brother comes down from his orgasm. He’s careful to keep his laving as light as possible, the experience leaving his brother sensitive all over.

Once done, he places a warm, affectionate kiss to the front of Sans’s soul, watching his brother shiver and blush in response, before replacing it back underneath his rib cage. He undoes the handcuffs and rubs at Sans’ wrists just in case they’re sore, even though they weren’t on for very long. He’s just about to praise his brother for a job well done when Sans leans up on his elbows and gives him a look.

“what about you?”

Papyrus face heats and he’s quick to wave his brother off, “NONSENSE, THAT WAS MORE THAN ENOUGH FOR THE GREAT—”

“you’re glowing, bro.” Sans says, no hint of mockery in his tone. In fact, if there was any sort of tone to it at all, Papyrus would say there’s something more like wonder in it instead.

And it’s true. Papyrus had been feeling the liquid heat of his magic coalescing since the first time Sans moaned his name, but the feeling only got stronger as his brother neared his climax. By now, Papyrus’s pussy has manifested entirely without his say-so, and he crosses his legs to hide it’s dim light from view.

“THIS… THIS ISN’T AN ISSUE. YOU LOOK WORN OUT AND I CAN TELL THAT YOU PROBABLY WANT TO SLEEP SINCE THAT TOOK A LOT OF OUT YOU, SO—”

Sans puts his hands on Papyrus’s shoulders and twists him around until their positions are reversed. He pushes him back till Papyrus’s head hits the pillow beneath him.

“never too tired for you, paps.” Sans whispers, voice soft and alluring in a way that makes Papyrus’s pussy throb and his face consequently flush in embarrassment.

“S-SANS…” He stutters as his brother hooks his fingers into the bottoms he’s wearing and drags them down past his knees.

“shit, papyrus,” Sans breathes, staring down at him. The scrutiny makes Papyrus’s face burn even hotter and he resists the urge to throw his hand up over his skull to block the sight. He holds back only because the devotion on Sans’ face makes his soul squeeze with a sweet ache that he never wants to forget.

When his brother looks away, it’s to start searching around them for something. Papyrus watches him, confusion and anticipation making his soul thud hard against his chest. After a moment, Sans finally turns back to him, smile on his face and the packet of lube from the box clearly in view. Papyrus feels heat rush through him at the sight. He’d meant to use that on Sans earlier.

Somehow, in the midst of his brother’s begging and moaning, he’d forgotten.

Sans brings the packet up and tears it open with his teeth, sharp canines tugging it open with ease. Papyrus feels wet enough already, but he doesn’t voice the opinion aloud. Especially because just seeing that little display makes his pussy slicken further and he had to resist the urge to moan aloud. Though, Sans might not have even noticed his protest if he had, so focused as he pours the lube out into his bony palm and runs the fingers of his left hand through it, coating them thoroughly.

He brings his phalanges back down and places them tantalisingly close to Papyrus’s folds, just barely short of touching him.

“you ready, bro?”

Papyrus answers by shifting his hips down, enough to inch Sans’ fingers into him. It’s barely anything at all, but he moans brokenly at the sensation anyways, filled with a want that coats every note. His brother is quick to draw his fingers back out.

“SANS.” He says, and most decidedly does not whine, “STOP TEASING.”

“not teasing,” his brother insists, pushing one slick phalange properly into him, “just don’t wanna hurt you.”

“IT’S NOT ENOUGH.” He pants and, okay, maybe he is whining a little now, but only because they’ve been at this for longer than Papyrus ever draws out for himself. His body has been pent up for a week and, ever since the moment Sans came, it’s been begging for a release of its own.

Sans slides another finger into him, pumping slightly. It’s better than before, thicker and more filling inside his passage, and the wet glide of Sans’s thumb against his clit makes it increasingly pleasurable. But the slickness of the lube and his natural magic combined is enough that all he craves is more to fill him up. His brother strokes encouragingly at Papyrus’s femur as he pushes in a third phalange with the rest, pushing all three deep enough to drag a long keening from Papyrus’s throat. As he squirms, Sans begins to fuck Papyrus on his fingers with a true rhythm, pulling out and pushing back in with slick, wet noises that make his face burn.

“how’s that?” Sans asks, still soft, still concerned.

“I’M—” Papyrus starts, phalanges grasping at the sheets and sockets shutting closed, “FASTER SANS. PLEASE.”

His brother obliges, and suddenly Papyrus feels so full of Sans that he can’t remember what it was like to be empty. Each thrust barely leaves him before he’s packed to the brim once more, cutting off his breath with every push back into him.

“SANS…” He pants, voice breaking with need, “S-SANS…!”

He hears his brother swear under his breath and, immediately following it, the thrusting stops. Papyrus twists in place, shaking his hips in an effort to encourage his brother to move again, but he remains motionless. At the very least Sans’ doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to remove his phalanges. Instead, they remain inside him, joined moments later by the familiar, soft roundness of something being placed near his clit.

That’s all the warning he gets before Sans turns the vibrator on.

The sensations flood through him instantly, strong and pulsing as his brother teases the head of it around his clit while still pounding into Papyrus with his fingers. It’s too much after so long being denied, the week of build-up edging him right to the end. So, when Sans drags the head of the vibe over the top of his clit and whispers at him— “come for me, pap.”—it’s not surprising that he does just that.

Papyrus comes on command, whine cutting off in his throat as his breath knocks out of him and reflexively clamping down hard around his brother’s phalanges inside him.

Sans doesn’t let up, continuing to work him through his orgasm and dragging it out for as long as it’ll go. The pulses rock though him, carrying him over in waves that seem like they’ve last forever if only his brother keeps him grounded just like this.

When Sans finally turns off the vibrator and pulls his fingers out with a schlick, Papyrus feels like his body is still tingling everywhere, a pleasant buzzing all over his bones. His brother wipes off his phalanges on his shorts—gross, but now’s not the time for admonishments—before clambering up to press a soft kiss to Papyrus’s mouth and flopping beside him.

“THANK YOU.” Papyrus says to him, voice hoarse but ever polite. There must be some sort of standard to ending these types of encounters after all.

But the platitude only makes Sans chuckle as he leans into him, contentment in his every motion, “feel like i should be the one saying that.”

Papyrus is more than agreeable, “I SUPPOSE THE GRATITUDE SHOULD GO BOTH WAYS. I’M IMPRESSED WITH BOTH OF US.”

“yeah…" Sans laughs lightly, frame jostling with it and his expression gentle as he meets Papyrus’s gaze, "thanks, bro.”

Something about the soft, fond way Sans says it, with his eyelights looking so closely at him, all vulnerable and open, makes Papyrus immediately shy away. He draws his sight off to the side, face hot. He attempts a half-shouldered shrug, “IT WAS THE LEAST I COULD DO TO REPAY YOU FOR ALL THE, UHM… WONDERFUL GIFTS.”

Sans chortles anew at that, amusement in the scrunch of his sockets, “speaking of—you really want me to get rid of all of 'em?”

“IT’S NOT STRICTLY NECESSARY, I SUPPOSE. I’M GROWING RATHER ATTACHED TO THE BED, TO BE HONEST.”

“heh,” Sans presses up against him, curling into his body, “yeah, it’s perfect for riding.”

“WELL, IT’D BE ‘DRIVING’ NOT ‘RIDING’, UNLESS YOU'RE A PASSENGER I SUPPOSE, BUT IN ANY CASE, IT’S NOT ACTUALLY A CAR SO I DON’T SEE HOW—” he squints, pulls back his head enough to level a glare at his brother, “… REALLY, SANS?”

“i’m sorry.” He snickers.

“NO, YOU’RE NOT,” Papyrus sighs, but there’s a smile on his face as he says it. He turns more fully onto his side to face his brother, happy to bask in the warm look of affection Sans is watching him with, “BUT THAT’S FINE. I’M MORE THAN WILLING TO TAKE YOU UP ON THE OFFER OF RIDING IN ANY CASE.”

He can see Sans flush, embarrassment overtaking his features in an instant. His brother drags his hands up to cover his face before turning it facedown into the pillows.