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The usually busy bar, typically roaring with life, was dead silent except for the soft grunts from the local bartender and the moans of his number one customer. The clinking of cups was replaced by the steady, yet harsh rocking of the table against the wall. It’s bolts shook at the assault. They were not used to the bizarre treatment, but they held steady as the fire elemental drilled into the smaller skeleton below. The risqué song was only interrupted by the occasional ‘sip’ of the nearby onlooker.
It was not often the bar got a visit from anyone further than Waterfall. Even when they did it was only from the low class citizens of Hotland who came quietly to nab a bottle of Grillby’s famous fire whiskey before scurrying off. Asgore be damned if someone sober enough to care saw them pay a visit to the best (and only bar) in town.
Even rarer than the citizens of Hotland were the folks of New Home. They were always busy (or too stuck up) to interact with those they considered beneath them. At least, that’s what Grillby had assumed before first meeting Sans.
He’d always seen him as the town drunk whose favorite topic, sober or not, was his brother…and his puns. So of course Grillby had laughed when Sans casually mentioned he was a scientist in New Home. Even funnier was when he was about to call Papyrus to come collect his brother, the door opened and in walked the Royal Scientist himself apologizing for his assistant.
It had been a brief and rather awkward introduction. Brief because Grillby was in the process of closing up his bar and awkward with the way Sans clung to Gaster, moaning the Royal Scientist’s name as they left the building.
There had been many firsts that night, but one that stuck with him the most had been the purple blush covering Gaster’s face and Sans’ breathy moans. It had been tough going to sleep that night.
The nights that followed were no better. His dreams were plagued by the two monsters and soon enough it was becoming more difficult to look Sans in the eye. The shorter skeleton had quickly taken notice of Grillby’s avoidant demeanor. He’d excused himself before his third round of drinks and popped out of sight before Grillby could say a word.
He hadn’t shown for the rest of the week. The only ‘word’ he’d heard from his regular had been a tiny bag of gold left on his doorstep with a note that read:
“This is for the tab. I’m workin’ on the rest. Sorry.”
To say Grillby felt horrible was an understatement. He tried to reach out to Sans, but the smaller skeleton was always one step ahead. He popped out of sight in the blink of an eye every time he saw Grillby.
He was fortunate enough for Papyrus to tell him Sans was keeping busy in the labs and would only pop in to sleep or check in on him. Grillby considered making the long trek to New Home, but he figured the skeleton would already be gone by the time he made it there. He would just have to wait it out.
Another week was coming to a close when there was a knock on the door. Upon opening it, Grillby was shocked not only to find the Royal Scientist but Sans as well.
He’d welcomed them inside, grabbed several bottles of his famous fire whiskey and one explanation and miscommunication later led to this; Sans, naked, stretched out on the table before him and Gaster, with Grillby’s cock buried inside him. Gaster sat on the side, leisurely sipping his whiskey in a glass he’d pulled from his inventory.
Grillby had been worried for Sans at first. He was a fire elemental after all and while Sans did not have skin, he only had 1 hp. But Sans had a heat so intense it could rival Grillby’s. His core was an inferno that wrapped around Grillby’s cock like it’s life’s mission was to wring him dry. Each thrust drove him deeper into the heat, deeper into Sans. Coming had only added to the heat as he filled Sans up over and over.
Poor Sans hadn't come once.
It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying. Sans had reached his peak over and over only for Gaster to demand Grillby still himself when his assistant was about to topple over the edge. Grillby nearly ignored him given the look on Sans’ face, but Gaster’s bodiless hands would appear from thin air to either force him out of Sans or hold him still. They gripped his thighs tightly. And only when Sans’ breathing had evened out, would Gaster’s hands shove him forward and back inside the heat.
“G-Gaster— nhh ! Please, let me cum!”
Gaster flashed him a small smile. “Soon Sans. Just let me finish my drink.”
Sans hazy eye lights flickered toward the glass Gaster held in one hand, swirling it around. There wasn’t much left. If Gaster were merciful, he’d take one last gulp and let Sans cum, but if Grillby learned anything from this night so far, it was that Gaster liked to take his time. He savored his alcohol the way he savored Sans. Slowly.
“P-please, G,” cried Sans, “F-fas- ah -ter!”
Gaster raises a brow in false concern. “You want him to go faster? Why don’t you tell him that?”
Sans’s eye lights flickered toward Grillby momentarily before returning to Gaster. “N-not h-him, G!”
Gaster looks away to meet Grillby’s eyes. He tilts his head to the side as if inspecting Grillby for any sign of fatigue. It would be expected; Grillby’s already came numerous times and has yet to tap out. After being pent up for over a week, he doesn’t plan on tapping out anytime soon.
Something in his expression lets the older skeleton know this without him saying a word. Maybe it’s the heat of his flames but Grillby swears Gaster is blushing.
“Mm, I think it’s only fair you let Mr. Grillby have his fun. The past week hasn’t been the best for him and I think he deserves to let off some steam , don’t you?”
A short huff of air escapes Sans’s mouth, which Grillby assumes is supposed to be a laugh.
“What do you think, Grillby?”
Ripping his eyes away from the scientist, Grillby takes a good long look at Sans.
He’s drenched in sweat. His white shirt sticks to his ribs like it was painted there. His hands dig short marks into the table. Or, at least they did before Gaster’s auxiliary hands pinned them in place. His legs are spread wide around Grillby to accommodate him, welcoming him in. The blue cunt he has summoned is swollen and twitching. Each thrust brings about a new mess of fluids that have no doubt stained the table by now. Grillby can see himself through the translucent pseudo flesh. His shaft is a torch inside Sans that is trying to burn itself into Sans’s magic. He’d thought Sans’s pre would burn, but he can’t even feel it. All he can feel is how Sans’s walls clench and unclench around him as he tries to suck Grillby in deeper.
Then there’s his face.
A pretty blue blush dusts his cheeks. It’s a different blue from the magic of his tongue. It’s lighter. The other times Sans has that little blush is when he overdoes it on the ketchup and the alcohol. This time is different especially when it's accompanied with softer eye lights that are focused on him. Sans is asking for mercy, but Grillby doesn’t want to give it to him just yet. Not when there are tears beading at the corners of his eyes. Grillby wants to see them fall.
It takes a moment to respond, but when he does he chokes on a moan. He’s close to cumming again. “I’m not in any rush. Are you Sans?.”
A look of betrayal paints Sans face as another chuckle escapes Gaster’s mouth, but it’s muffled by the whiskey. “Grillby, Doc, c-come on!”
“Hmm,” Gaster says thoughtfully. He looks between his nearly empty glass and Sans before deciding something. He raises his free hand and Grillby thinks he’s finally going to touch Sans. He can see the hope rise in Sans face only for it to die as Gaster’s hand dips below the table to grab the remainder of the fire whiskey.
Gaster never breaks eye contact with Sans as he refills his cup with a devilish smile. The smaller skeleton wails and Grillby lets out an amused huff, his flames crackling in amusement.
It’s cut off by the hitch in Sans’s voice as Grillby hits a spot deep inside him. His face is twisted in pleasure and pain. It looks like he’s trying not to cry or cum. Perhaps both.
From the corner of his eye, Gaster gives a small nod that Grillby returns.
Gaster reaches out to place a hand on the smaller sweaty skull. “Angle your hips upward, Grillby. You’ll hit that spot again.”
Grillby follows orders, angling his hips just right and causing Sans to cry out. His body jolted against the force.
“You like that, don’t you Sans?”
Sans nods frantically, babbling incoherently as he sobs.
Gaster finally gives in and gives him mercy. “Then why don’t you come if it's so good? Come for Grillby. Come for me. Now.”
Before he can get the last word out, Sans screams. His head snaps back against the table and his spine arches painfully as his long awaited release hits him hard. He tightens down around Grillby’s dick and cums hard. The combination of Sans moans and his cunt trying to suck him in deeper drive Grillby over the edge once more. It hits him harder than he thought because when he comes to, all he can hear are Gaster’s praises and Sans’s hiccups.
Gaster’s false hands hold him up as he lets out a sharp exhale only to inhale with a hiss.
Sans is still cumming, milking him dry. Eventually, Sans pussy relents and releases its grip. Grillby eases out and their combined release seeps out of Sans twitching body and joins the puddle beneath them. Sans gives one final sob and one last burst of slick before he passes out.
There's a brief pause as Grillby catches his breath and Gaster bends over to check on Sans. He takes out a handkerchief and plots Sans’s forehead to rid of any stray beads of sweat. A look of apprehension sits on his scarred face until he sees the little smile on the other’s peaceful face.
Grillby watches them for a moment with his own small smile on his face. “We really wore him out.”
“I suppose we did,” responds Gaster. He leans back, content with his inspection. He goes back to his drink, swishing around the bright orange liquid for the thousandth time that night. “I would again like to apologize for Sans’s behavior. We are, um, not very public with our relationship. He feared for our jobs and—“
Grillby held up a hand to stop him. “I understand now, Doctor Gaster. There’s no need to apologize, but I’m glad you two came to…clear things up.”
“Just Gaster is fine, but thank you,” said Gaster. He dragged his eyes away from his drink and to the other monster. “I appreciate you allowing us here after hours. Now I can see what all the fuss is about.”
“I didn’t take you as a whiskey type of man, D- Gaster.”
“Oh, I’m usually not, but many people in New Home speak highly of your fire whiskey,” replied Gaster.
Now it was Grillby’s turn to feel himself blushing. “I… I wasn’t aware. Is it to your liking?”
Gaster shrugged. “It’s certainly good, but I do find it lacking.”
“Lacking?” Asked Grillby, a little disheartened.
“Yes,” said Gaster. He removed himself from the booth with a sigh and that’s when Grillby noticed the slight bulge in his pants. He tried to avert his eyes in time, but Gaster had already caught him staring. He tipped the remaining contents of his glass into his mouth, but did not swallow. Instead, he walked forward and grabbed Grillby by the back of his neck and pulled him forward until they were nose to nose. Then, ever so slowly Gaster pressed his mouth to Grillby’s.
Immediately, he obliged and let Gaster spill the whiskey into his mouth. Grillby swallowed what Gaster gave him until there was nothing else. Gaster’s tongue brushed across his own, then his teeth before he pulled away and whispered, “A little heat.”