#vampire gaster

Papyrus’ grip on the sides of his arms tightened, perhaps in anticipation, perhaps in impatience. Waiting was never a strong suit of his. Not in moments like these. “DOCTOR, YOU SHOULDN’T PLAY WITH YOUR FOOD,” he chided, tone light and soft.

Of course, Papyrus was so much more than a meal. Lately, Gaster wanted nothing more than to taste the skeleton’s essence, to press his fangs into the warm bone, to feel his magic well up around his teeth and flood his mouth with such a sweetness that made Gaster dizzy and drunk with the taste. He loved wrapping Papyrus up in his arms, feeling the young monster snuggle into even his freezing cold chest—and oh how cold it was, despite how Papyrus insisted that it didn’t bother him—and feel the slow breathing of the adoring life in his arms.

Best of all, he loved the dazed look on Papyrus’ face post-meal, mouth parted in a light pant and seemingly content with everything.

“Can you blame me? I can’t help but want to savor this delicious meal you’ve laid out in front of me.” He pressed down, a tiny nip that didn’t break through, but still drew a soft gasp from Papyrus. “So lovely, too.”

“NNN, GASTER, PLEASE…”

He smiled against his neck. Well, how could he refuse such a request?

As he drank from Papyrus, he felt the skeleton’s body grow limp in his grasp. It took great effort for him to pull away, to not push his limits too far. The last thing he wanted was to turn his favorite’s body to dust right there in his arms. Gaster didn’t know what he’d do as Papyrus grew older and frailer and reached the end of his life. Perhaps he’d Turn him, as a reward for so many years of service.

He pulled away, and Papyrus let out a faint moan as Gaster carefully laid him out on the racecar bed. Taking in the blissed-out look on his face, he decided that he’d bring the idea up on the morrow. Not that there was any doubt that Papyrus would agree to it. What mortal would give up the opportunity to live forever? Especially with Papyrus, who Gaster could tell was clearly enamored with the old vampire.

That, or addicted to the near-orgasmic euphoria of having magic pulled out of his body, replaced with a light dizzy feeling. He’d been told by previous mortals that the feeling was almost better than sex.

Not that Gaster would ever know.

“I’ll see you next week, my sweet little honey blossom,” he murmured, pushing the window open and climbing out over the sill. The drop was longer than he’d like, but he knew he’d land safe and unharmed, even without the snow that blanketed Snowdin’s ground. “Rest well, until then.”

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“SANS IS GETTING WORRIED,” Papyrus said, sitting heavily on the mattress with a light bounce. He unwound the scarf from around his neck, folding it and setting it to the side in a neat pile, before falling into Gaster’s arms, open and waiting to receive him.

Gaster drew him close, brushing a thumb over Papyrus’ neck, over the tiny indents he’d left the week previous, normally hidden by the scarf but out in the open now. Odd that they hadn’t healed yet, but that probably only meant that he’d taken too much. He would be more careful this time. He barely registered that Papyrus had spoken, focused on how Papyrus tilted his head to the side to allow better access. “About what?”

“WELL, I’M USUALLY QUITE TIRED AFTER OUR… OUR, YOU KNOW, SESSIONS,” Papyrus began, glancing up at him. “AND THAT’S FINE! I LIKE THEM A LOT! BUT THIS TIME I WAS MORE TIRED FOR LONGER THAN USUAL, AND SANS ASKED IF I WAS GETTING SICK—SO MAYBE I WAS THINKING THAT WE COULD DO THIS MAYBE EVERY OTHER WEEK?”

“Ah.” Gaster paused. Papyrus continued on, prattling about how much he really did enjoy it and didn’t want to stop, but it was for the best, or something like that, but he’d stopped listening. He was trying to imagine who Papyrus was talking about at all, and why he should care if he worried at Papyrus’ new lethargy.  “And who is Sans again?”

Papyrus gave him a reprimanding look, as if he should know. “SANS IS MY BROTHER!”

“Right, right.” Gaster didn’t remember him at all; he wasn’t even totally sure that Papyrus had mentioned him before. He resisted the urge to shrug. That would only upset his lovely little skeleton. Instead, he nuzzled his face into the side of Papyrus’ neck, ready to move on with the conversation. “We shall see. I’ll be more careful this time, I promise.”

“MM—BUT YOU SAY THAT EVERY TIME.”

So he did, and each time he meant it wholeheartedly. Gaster never wanted to upset Papyrus. He hummed an apology into his neck, drawing a little gasp in turn. “I’m sorry, I do try. You’re just so delicious though, I can’t help myself. I just want to keep you all to myself.”

He felt the bone heat up against his teeth, and he imagined the lovely flush that had appeared across his cheekbones—such a pretty orange color, as hot and stunning as the setting sun back on the surface. He’d described it to Papyrus, once, after Gaster had finished feeding that night, and he’d talked all about the sun and the wind and the sky as the skeleton murmured sleepy questions until he at last dozed off into Gaster’s arms.

“WELL, I KNOW I AM VERY GREAT, SO MY MAGIC MUST BE GREAT TOO.”

“It is,” he agreed in earnest. “I want to keep you by my side forever.”

“YOU DO?”

“Yes. And I’ve been thinking.” Gaster paused, wondering how to approach the subject, and decided that being straightforward was the best way to go. “Eventually you’ll grow old and frail, and just like every other mortal you’ll crumble to dust. I don’t want to lose you like that; I’d like to Turn you into a vampire, like me, and then you can stay with me for all eternity.”

Papyrus didn’t answer right away, falling silent in the face of his proposal. Gaster drew back to look down at his face, trying to gauge his contemplative expression. He couldn’t tell whether it seemed favorable or not, although he had zero doubts that Papyrus would agree. So many mortals before him had begged to be Turned, to stay with him forever, and Gaster deigned only Papyrus worthy of such a gift.

Others would’ve given up everything to buy what Gaster offered up freely now.

“I CAN’T.”

“Excuse me?”

Was Papyrus being modest right then? He knew that the young skeleton was prone to flights of fancy. It was something that Gaster enjoyed in their time together, listening to grand plans of gaining recognition across the entire Underground, being loved and admired by everybody. Turning down something as precious as immortality, though? That went beyond fanciful, right into the realm of foolishness.

“IT’S A VERY NICE OFFER, IT REALLY IS!” Papyrus smiled as if trying to reassure him, leaning into Gaster. “AND I’D LOVE TO SPEND MY LIFE WITH YOU—YOU MAKE ME FEEL SO… SO WOW, AND I THINK I REALLY LOVE YOU? ROMANTICALLY. I LOVE YOU.”

Gaster said nothing in the pause that came after the confession, but Papyrus must have seen the displeasure in his expression, because he continued on hastily.

“BUT I DON’T THINK I WANT TO LIVE FOREVER. I HAVE MY BROTHER—AND MY FRIENDS TOO! AND I DON’T THINK I COULD STAND TO WATCH THEM ALL DIE, AND JUST KEEP ON LIVING AND LIVING AFTER THAT.”

“…Of course.” Gaster didn’t understand in the slightest. He couldn’t even remember the first time he’d gotten close to someone and watched them die. It was just a fact of life at that point. Mortals came, mortals went, and there was always a new one to take their place.

Yet somehow with Papyrus right there in front of him, he was filled with the overwhelming desire to keep him close, to protect him, to treasure him for eternity. For the first time since before he could even remember, Gaster feared losing someone to the passage of time.

“It’s your choice, of course,” he said, stiff but trying to demonstrate that he was being generous here. It wouldn’t be good form to force Papyrus, after all.

Although he could. Despite what Papyrus said, all it would take was one bite, and to drain all of the magic out from the skeleton’s body to the very brink of death. It’d be easy, and then he’d have forever ever after to convince Papyrus to forgive him. And forgive he would. That was just who Papyrus was.

…But he wouldn’t. Of course.

A weight fell against him as Papyrus relaxed his body against Gaster’s chest, skull resting delicately upon his shoulder, neck exposed. Even after proposing such a thing, Papyrus trusted him fully to keep his word, despite never having been able to keep his promise to not drink too much, too deeply. He was too precious to trust Gaster so fully, and he was filled with the simultaneous desire to protect that trust and to shatter it.

“WELL THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR THE OFFER! ANYWAY, I SHOULD THINK THAT YOU’RE VERY PECKISH BY NOW AND MORE THAN READY TO PARTAKE IN THE GREAT PAPYRUS!”

Gaster smiled, bringing his mouth to the delicate neck bones. “Of course I am—bone appetit.”

Before Papyrus could protest the tiny pun, Gaster sank his fangs into his neck, the words cutting off with a sharp gasp of pain that soon turned into a low groan of pleasure. It was so very easy to stave off his anger, Gaster realized fondly. His mortal was so sweet to his very core.

As he fed, he felt Papyrus growing weaker in his arms. In the back of his mind he remembered his promise to Papyrus that he would stop early, that he wouldn’t go on too far that night. But with another long draw from the pierced bone, he felt too warm and too thirsty to heed it. Papyrus may have said no to being Turned, but Gaster was certain that he just didn’t understand the implications of living forever. Once he experienced immortality for the first time, then he’d understand. Really, watching mortals pass away was but a small penance in the face of eternity.

Gaster continued drinking, taking long hard pulls, intent on draining the skeleton of his magic.

It took Papyrus a minute to realize what was happening, that Gaster did not intend to stop. He groaned out, a weak and groggy sound, batting at his arm with faint urgency. The batting turned to pushing, but there was no real force behind his arms. Papyrus couldn’t really stop him, his magic was too far gone.

He’d be angry with Gaster, in the beginning, but he was sure that Papyrus would thank him once he tasted another’s magic for the first time.

The faint struggles of the skeleton ebbed away, and only then did Gaster stop. Never before had even the pearly white bones looked so pale, so on the verge of death. Gaster raised a wrist to his mouth and bit himself, and he let the magic dribble down onto the unconscious monster’s mouth until it parted with the instinct to consume the foreign magic to replace what it had lost. He pressed down, dutifully feeding his magic into Papyrus like a newborn, which in a way he was. Soon Papyrus would open his eyes again, and experience life like he never had before for all of eternity.