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a half forgotten memory

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Papyrus was used to being tied up.

One might say he might even enjoy it— being held, immobile and vulnerable (but still with the knowledge that he can end things with one little word) is... nice. It’s exhausting to be so poised and perfect all the time, so having control stripped away from him is almost refreshing. His train of thought ended when a small spiderling tapped his hand and gestured to the silk tie being dragged up by their buddies, and Papyrus grinned. “THANK YOU, FRIEND!”

The spider wriggled happily and scampered off, leaving the silken blindfold behind for him to tie around his eyesockets. His hands— the only parts of his body that weren’t firmly strapped down— efficiently and expertly knotted it and Papyrus blinked, adjusting to the loss of his sight. Being blind wasn’t his favorite thing, but. What the customer wants the customer gets, he thought wryly. He couldn’t afford to be very picky when it came to his job, or he wouldn’t get enough customers and make enough money.

Speaking of customers, his current client had very specific directions on how they wanted him for their evening, down to the very color of the collar wrapped around his neck. (It was a pretty periwinkle blue, and Muffet told him that the customer had provided it themself. They had... very specific kinks, he supposed.)

When the door creaked open, he tilted his head and reached out with his magic tentatively to make sure it was his boss despite knowing that it could have been no one but her. It was never bad to be too cautious, especially in his line of work. When his magic made contact he recognized it instantly and let himself relax little bit.

Sniffing a little bit in disdain at the probe, she clicked her tongue irritably while she made her way across the room to him. “Dearie, must you always give me a CHECK? You know it’s me. No one else is allowed back here.” Without waiting for an answer— as this was simply their usual banter, an argument as worn in and easy to slip into as an old glove— she tilted his head to the left and the right critically, humming softly as she inspected him.

Spacing out as she did her usual checks of the gear, he mulled her over. Not only did he appreciate her perfectionism and work ethic, but also her critical eye and sharp tongue. She did not hesitate to whip him into shape when needed, and it warmed his SOUL to finally be treated like an actual adult have someone that wanted him to be his very best.

Before she continued to inspect him, she leaned down and purred against the side of his face, a hint of warning in her dulcet tone. “Your client will arrive shortly. Make sure to take could care of him, okay? He’s a good friend~.”

She tugged on the restraints one last time to make sure they were tight enough and flicked his nasal aperture teasingly before leaving without a word— not only was that part of their dynamic and part of her personality, but she disliked wasting time on pleasantries that were basically useless. Time was money and she did not and could not afford to waste it. It was just another thing about his cutthroat boss that made Papyrus admire her, and they both knew it. Content that he was as perfect as possible— because Muffet would never let Papyrus being anything less than that in her establishment— he settled onto his knees and waited for his client to arrive.

Minutes passed, and he fought the urge to grumble under his breath. He— the client who also happened to be his boss’s friend— was late. He hadn’t expected that from someone who cared enough to make sure he was all dressed up for him, but it was whatever. He would get paid either way.

Just about as he was to flop onto his side to give his poor knees a break, his mysterious customer arrived. He didn’t say anything, just shut the door with a quiet click, and stood in front of him. Papyrus felt his breath hitch because he knew he was watching him. He could practically feel his gaze slide over him— it was almost palpable in it’s weight, and he flushed as he simply took him in. Normally he would have said something coy or flirty, but he had specifically asked for him to be silent unless he told him otherwise. So he kept his mouth shut and sat stock still.

There was a soft exhale, and Papyrus could feel the shift in the air as he leaned in close to him, examining him from head to toe. Never so badly had he wanted to squirm, but he stayed still despite feeling his magic begin to be embarrassingly worked up from all of the silent attention.

Something hooked into the collar— most likely some sort of hand or appendage— and tugged, harsh. There was a quiet sifting of clothes and an audible crackle of magic as he pulled on it again, making him choke against the pressure. The stranger stepped forward again, standing very close to him (and judging by the thick magical tension in the air) he had his genitalia inches away from Papyrus’s face. He didn’t move, letting him choose when to initiate contact like a good little submissive.

Above him he groaned, his voice low and timber, and Papyrus shivered a little bit at the sexy sound. Wet smacks began to fill the air as he began to jerk off steadily; one particularly loud squelch made him let a little whimper slip from his teeth at the lack of stimulation and contact. God, why wouldn’t he use him? How was supposed to take good care of them when all he was doing was kneeling on the ground, literally doing nothing? 

He languidly palmed and tugged at his dick, not even touching him, just yanking at the collar every now and then as he masturabted in front of him. Papyrus, needless to say, was a little bit disappointed bored. This was not what he expected.

Several minutes of this slow torture passed until there was suddenly a leaking tip pressed against the side of his face, simply rubbing against his cheekbone slowly. Precum smeared across his face with each little movement of the client’s hips until finally, with one smooth motion, he slid his dripping, thick cock against the entirety of his face. There was a moan of satisfaction, and he began to hump at Papyrus’s face with gusto.

His free hand cupped the back of Papyrus’s neck, keeping him in place while his other continued to grasp the collar and choke the subservient skeleton below him. Unknowingly, Pap began to drool slowly, slickening up the dick using his face and when the mysterious client noticed, he swore, increasing the speed of thrusts. The sudden change of pace alerted him to the change— the client was getting close. With one lap of his tongue against the bulbous head, his customer came with a grunt, pulling back just in time to splatter his face with cum.

Hot magic dropped down his face, and Papyrus tried not to wince. Facials were not his favorite. It was still arousing though, and judging by the quick inhale from the client he thought it was too.

“shit, yer so fuckin’ pretty...” He growled, and Papyrus stiffened. Was... was that who he thought it was?

A thumb— oh god an obviously made of bone thumb— rubbed against his face, idly smearing around the cum on his face. His sudden tension went unnoticed and unknowing of the realization that his escort was having, Sans— because who else had that low voice and those skeletal hands?— continued to dirty talk, too caught up in the post-orgasm high.

Papyrus’s SOUL screamed in abject horror. Fuck, that was his brother above him— his brother who forgot about him. Judging by the still steady stream of dirty talk, Sans hadn’t recognized him. At all.

And he told himself that was a good thing.

(Papyrus shoved down the hurt and anger and sadness that Sans forgot him— swallowed down the parts of him that screeched that it was an awful thing. But. Him not remembering his baby brother meant he wouldn’t have to see how low he had sunk. His brother, the former Ambassador of Monsters, the Great Papyrus, now working at a brothel to make enough money to scrape by. Sans didn’t have the context of his fucking brother and that meant he wouldn’t feel pain and horror and disgust at how his sibling was a prostitute.

So in that sense, perhaps it was a MERCY.

But that didn’t make it any less painful. All Sans saw was a pretty skeleton, a sloppy hole to be fucked, a poor SOUL to pity— and that made the old hurt of being forgotten sting twicefold.)

Sans’s cock prodded at his teeth, and he parted them numbly, his body running on autopilot. With one movement he sunk down to the root, balls deep while moaning wordlessly. Papyrus’s throat had snapped into existence when his brother had first dipped himself into his mouth and as he began to slowly thrust he barely managed to hold back his gag reflex. His mind sort of felt floaty— perhaps he was in shock?— but he was forcefully dragged back to reality when Sans grasped the back of his head and forced himself down even deeper.

He had never thought his brother would like it rough, Papyrus thought. His brother had always seemed so laid back and relaxed, so this was surprising.

Despite all of his expertise, Papyrus began to gag and choke around the thick intrusion, making his throat work rhythmically around it while Sans let out an aborted gasp and bucked his hips in deeper. The next thing he knew was that Sans had hooked his thumbs into his eyesockets beneath the blindfold, using them as leverage to piston himself in and out as fast as possible. He was being used as nothing but a toy, and that made tears prick into his eyesockets as Sans forcefully throatfucked him. Dimly, he realized that he was being praised and tried to focus on the words instead of the fact that he was little more than an object to his beloved brother.

“umnf, yer— yer throat is so tight ‘n wet...”

Sans pulled out, then sunk back in slowly, rocking his hips to emphasize the lewd squelches and sounds coming from Papyrus’s mouth.

“y’hear that? beautiful.”

His mouth was stuffed full of cock, throat struggling to take in his length as the head jabbed against the very back, and there was so much magic in his mouth that it was making delicious soppy sounding noises with each twitch of Sans’s hips. He was full— more than full, even, if the liquid magic overflowing from his mouth said anything. It trailed down his jaw messily, and Sans wiped away a bit of it almost tenderly.

“god, yer a good boy, hm? takin’ me so w-well... so gorgeous, haaa.“

With a slick (almost suction-like) pop he removed himself from Papyrus's mouth, precum and pure magic stringing from the back of his throat to Sans's cock before it broke and dripped down to the floor. A mewl inadvertently escaped his mouth and above him his brother chuffed in amusement before he clumsily and sloppily rubbed his dick against his face again, uncaring of the mess it made.

A rough shove startled Papyrus, and he flailed backwards with a squawk. Before he could regain his bearings Sans forced his legs open, uncaring of how his femurs were still bound to his ankles and started to grope roughly at his pelvis, stopping when his fingers met warm, dripping folds. Papyrus froze.

He hadn't even realized he had summoned his cunt.

There was a quiet stillness, and he shifted nervously at the sudden silence, unable to tell what was about to go down. He was hyperaware of the moistness of his pussy, of how much he was probably leaking, and blushed brightly. Slowly, his brother spread his fingers and honest to God laughed. A hot huff of breath made him flinch back, but two hands held him firmly in place before Sans growled into the side of his skull before nipping at his neck harshly.

”sweetness, you’re mine for tonight. and i’m going to ruin you for anyone else.” 

A tear finally slid down his cheek at the loving words, and his SOUL sort of felt like it wasn’t falling apart. All Papyrus could do was press his damp face into the crook of his brother’s client’s neck and breathe. 

(And pretend that his brother still loved him.)