It was late and Grillby was closing up. The place was empty for once, no Sans sitting on his stool, drunk and half-passed out. Not that he minded. When that happened, the skeleton’s younger brother wouldn’t be long from coming through the doors, faking anger and poorly hiding his worry. Seeing him was worth cleaning up Sans’ dried drool off the counter every night.
He sighed, his mind shifting to the shorter skeleton’s state of affairs. Every night, he came in here. Sometimes he talked, often he didn’t. Usually, when he did talk, it was either lame jokes or just relentlessly issuing praise for his brother. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Sans. Actually, he was rather pleasant company. But all he seemed to do was mope and refuse any kind of help. It was just sad really.
Now, Papyrus on the other hand… Dedicated. Strong. Passionate. Idealistic. Honest.
Grillby sighed and placed the last glass on the cupboard. Of course he was thinking about him again. When wasn’t he thinking about the Great Papyrus as of late? The young skeleton had been plaguing his thoughts…and his dreams…for days now. True, Papyrus had caught his attention from the first moment he laid eyes on him. Back then, they both had caught his eye, but he had just moved to Snowdin and opened his business.
It just hadn’t been a good time.
Then as the years went by, Sans had lost…it. That glimmer of hope and purity in a monster’s eyes. Grillby wasn’t sure what happened. Most likely it was just from daily life in the Underground. Actually, there were so few adult monsters who still had it. Another reason why Papyrus stood out even more, like a diamond glinting in the dark. Another reason why Grillby’s attention gravitated towards him. Another reason why he itched.
It had been too long since he’d had…someone.
Maybe now was a good time. But Grillby was a bit rusty. Perhaps he’d think on it some more. Make a plan. Sometimes planning by itself helped.
Sighing again, Grillby walked around the counter and to the door to lock it. As he was reaching for the handle, it suddenly flew open, spraying cold wind and snow in his face. It stung, his flames shrinking away from the cold.
As if he were dreaming, Papyrus stood in front of him, panting and looking startled. Grillby’s soul skipped a beat.
“OH! I’M SORRY! ARE YOU CLOSED?!” Papyrus’ eyes darted around his shoulder and sides, trying to get a view inside. “IS MY BROTHER IN THERE, BY ANY CHANCE?!”
“…No,” Grillby answered without thinking.
Papyrus’ entire face fell. It was a strange sight. It was the first time he’s ever seen anything that wasn’t a smile on his face.
“OH…THANK YOU. SORRY FOR THE TROUBLE! PLEASE SEND HIM HOME IF HE DOES SHOW UP! GOODBYE!”
Papyrus turned to leave and Grillby, quickly coming back to his senses, grabbed his wrist.
Papyrus stopped, his red scarf billowing in the wind, and turned with a puzzled look on his face.
“…He may show up later. How about you wait for him here?” It was weak and Grillby knew it. They were closed after all. But it was all he could think of to get him inside.
Papyrus seemed to consider it for a moment, then sighed and nodded. “I could do with a little rest before resuming my search…”
Grillby stood back to let him in. Once Papyrus passed him and headed towards the bar, he shut the door and locked it.
He watched as the graceful skeleton sat down heavily in the same seat Sans usually occupied. Grillby returned to his side of the counter, picking up a towel and pretending to do some work.
“…Is there anything I can get you?”
“No, thank you.” Papyrus laid his head on the counter against his arms, appearing very unlike himself. Grillby was actually a bit touched that he would show this side of him here of all places.
“I’m sorry, Grillby. I’ve just been looking for him all night. After recalibrating puzzles and royal guard training all day, it’s been…really tiring.”
Papyrus raised his head, looking at him, weariness and worry clear in his eyes, probably too tired to hide it. “You wouldn’t by any chance know any other place he likes to visit, do you? I’ve already checked Alphys’ and his sentry station. It’s almost like…he’s avoiding me. But why would he want to avoid his very cool and great brother like this?”
Grillby shrugged. He wondered that too. “…Did something happen?”
Papyrus sighed, covering his face with a hand. Between splayed fingers, his eye looked to the side. “I…well…maybe.”
Grillby didn’t say anything then, quietly wiping the spotless counter. Experience had told him that most of his patrons just wanted to talk and all they needed was a small non-judgmental space to do so freely. He knew Papyrus wouldn’t be any different.
Papyrus continued to look to the side, but eventually he lowered his hand, staring at the bar. “We…had a misunderstanding.” He scratched against the hardwood. “I still don’t really understand what the problem was. It was…nice. Then it wasn’t.”
Grillby arched a flaming eyebrow. “…”
Papyrus took a glance at his expression then looked away, blushing. “Well, I know you can keep a secret and I know Sans trusts you, so maybe you can…help me.” He looked at him again, hopeful.
His face was unreadable, but inside, Grillby’s soul began to race.
The itch got worse.
Papyrus cleared his throat and sat a bit straighter, though the blush never left his cheekbones.
“You see…I was cooking dinner like I do every evening,” he started. “And…well…Undyne had given me a really…rather GREAT training session earlier. SO GREAT IN FACT…that…well, my bones ached a bit afterward. WHICH IS TOTALLY NORMAL FOR SOMEONE AS GREAT AS ME!” He posed, stroking his scarf as if to emphasize the point.
Grillby watched him in silent amusement as Papyrus cleared his throat again and continued. “IT WAS JUST A SIGN THAT MY BONES WERE GETTING EVEN STRONGER! …S-STILL…it was a tad uncomfortable. And I must have shown it. Sans, always so observant, told me to sit down for a minute. So he could take care of it. Well, I did and he….”
Papyrus blushed at the memory. “Well, it was really nice and it was working! He pressed gently on the back of my shoulder bones and…it felt nice. His hand then sort of…drifted…towards my spine. But it was working! It felt good, I really don’t understand what all the fuss is about!”
Grillby blinked, but again remained silent. Was Papyrus hinting at something regarding Sans? …Maybe the reason for the smaller skeleton’s depression hit closer to home than he originally thought.
Papyrus sighed heavily and rested his chin in his palm. “…I…well, I may have made a noise from his touch. And well, Sans sort of took it some way that wasn’t good at all and well, next thing I knew he was gone.”
Grillby tilted his head. “…He ran?”
Papyrus sighed and rested his chin against the counter. “…I think he’s mad at me. Why else would he just disappear like this? But what did I do? I don’t even understand what was so wrong about it.” He sat up again and reached over with his left hand, rubbing his right clavicle. “…I mean…he didn’t even finish.”
God, it was almost too easy.
Grillby didn’t even wait for an answer. Papyrus glanced at him like a confused puppy as he made his way around the counter and moved behind the skeleton.
“What? My shoulders?” he asked, glancing over at him.
Grillby nodded and waited a moment before touching him. Papyrus didn’t even tense up. He sat straighter, almost leaning into his hands. Utterly trusting.
“Thank you. That’s actually…really kind of you, Grillby.”
Grillby’s soul pulsed even quicker, the itch running through his every limb, his fire burning hotter for a moment. He hoped Papyrus didn’t notice.
“…It’s fine.” He gently pressed behind Papyrus’ clavicle and scapula, the skeleton shuddering faintly. “…Did he touch you like this?”
“Y..Yeah. Just like that. Your hands are so warm. It feels nice.”
They stayed like that for a moment, the soft crackling of Grillby’s flames and the muffled wind against the tinted windows were the only sounds in the whole place. Papyrus closed his eyes, relaxing into his hands. He hummed very softly in pleasure, barely audible.
Grillby smiled. Slowly, he slid his fingers towards his spine, pouring some heat into his fingertips. Papyrus gasped softly, arching into it. If that had been the sound he had made with Sans…no wonder his brother got embarrassed. Still, Grillby was just getting started.
“…Is this what Sans did?”
“Y…Yeah. I really don’t see what the fuss is about…” Papyrus murmured. He sounded like he was about to fall asleep. “Feels so nice.”
Grillby’s smile grew. “…Then let me show you.”
Papyrus made a soft puzzled sound, his eyes still closed.
“…What the fuss is about.”
Grillby ran his hand down Papyrus’ spine roughly, bringing forth his magic so his fire slid between the cracks of his vertebrae, hot but not too hot.
Papyrus gasped sharply, his eyes snapping open. His spine arched away from the non-too-subtle touch.
“W-What!..Ah…What are you…?”
Grillby wrapped his hand around Papyrus’ spine near his pelvis, wondering, as he stroked, how this felt to a skeleton.
“Ah! G-Grillby…D-don’t!” Papyrus reached back, gripping Grillby’s arm as he gasped and squirmed. He turned his head to face him, cheeks flushed with magic, eyes wide and confused. “What…are you…”
With his free hand, Grillby gently held Papyrus’ chin, leaning close. He kept stroking his spine. “…Does it feel good? Answer me.”
He kissed him then, forcing his tongue inside Papyrus mouth. It was easy since it was already half-way open. The inside was empty and cold, but not after he was finished. His fiery appendage licked along the sides of his jaw, the top of his mouth and the edges of the bottom. He even pressed further back, against the top of his spine.
Papyrus began to tremble. His hand gripped the wrist of the hand that held his chin, but he seemed too overwhelmed to push it away. After a moment of this invasion, Papyrus summoned a tongue that greeted his timidly. Grillby took advantage, twirling and rubbing their tongues together before he finally pulled away, a trail of glowing saliva trailing from Papyrus’ mouth.
Papyrus’ eyes seemed hazy and dazed, his face flushed. He was shaking.
Grillby smiled gently, stroking his chin. His other hand released his spine…and slipped inside Papyrus’ shorts. This was much easier than he expected.
“…Just relax, Papyrus,” he said softly.
Papyrus choked on a moan, arching away from the intrusion and nearly falling out of his chair. He gripped the front of Grillby’s shirt for leverage as Grillby groped and fondled the sensitive bones inside his pelvis - fingers rubbing his pubis arch, thumb running down his sacrum. Elementary school biology really paid off in the long run.
“…Have you ever touched yourself down here before?”
Tears were beginning to gather at the corners Papyrus’ eye sockets. The young skeleton shook his head.
“…But it feels good, doesn’t it?”
Papyrus whimpered as a reply and looked away, shutting his mouth tight against the sounds he couldn’t stop himself from making. Grillby continued this for a moment longer, before he pulled his hand away.
Papyrus blinked up at him. He was still visibly trembling, his knees pressed tightly together. “Huh? …W-why?”
“…So I can show you.”
Papyrus looked confused, but that was better than fearful. Grillby took his hands and pulled him to his feet.
“S-Show me what? …and…where?” He glanced at the floor, then back at Grillby. “W-wait. Here? On the floor?”
“…I just mopped it. Don’t worry. Come. It’s just like you said. No big deal.”
As he tugged him to the ground, it was obvious Papyrus wanted to do anything but lay down on the cold hard floor. But he did it anyways, shaking the entire time. Perhaps it didn’t even occur to him that he could refuse. Or maybe he was curious. Or maybe he was embarrassed because he had said it hadn’t been a big deal and now here they were. Grillby wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t complaining.
Papyrus lay flat on his back, his bones rattling lightly against the wooden floor. His built up tears ran down the sides of his temples from the change of position, but he didn’t seem to be actively crying. Grillby gently wiped them away, the tracks evaporating from the heat of his hands. Papyrus kept his eyes glued on him.
“Is…is this going to hurt?”
“…No.” He kissed his forehead softly as his hands pushed up Papyrus’ shirt. “…As long as you don’t fight it, it won’t hurt at all. On the contrary actually. It’ll feel really, really good.”
Papyrus gave him a curious look before he inhaled sharply, face flushing even deeper and turning away as Grillby ran his fingers along his rib cage.
It clicked then, why he was being so obedient, so willing. Papyrus believed in Grillby not to hurt him and he was curious. If this was the first time he’d ever experienced sexual pleasure before, then of course he’d be curious. Good. That was exactly what Grillby wanted. This young, beautiful monster was more suited to his desires than he first imagined.
Grillby took his time, enjoying Papyrus’ body. And god, what a body. So sensitive. So reactive. He ran his fingers in between his ribs, rubbing along the inside, just grazing the very edges of his soul. Papyrus arched his chest towards his touch, crying out softly with pleasure.
“Oh…that…that feels really good…I…I like that.”
“…See. No big deal.”
A part of Grillby couldn’t believe Sans let Papyrus grow up without teaching him about these things.
Well, more fun for him.
“…And this?” Grillby let his fiery hand slide down Papyrus’ spine, fingering each vertebrae. His other hand continued to play with his chest, sliding under his rib cage and stroking the underside of his sternum.
Papyrus let out a delicious moan, melting under his touch. “Oh…oh yes…mmm…yes…”
His body rolled and squirmed into his touch, his trembling lessening a bit as he got more comfortable, more trusting. Grillby smirked.
The hand that played down his spine reached his waist band. Slowly, he slipped his fingers under it and slid them off. Such skimpy clothing. Another thing he couldn’t believe Sans let him wear and on a daily basis no less. Then again, from what Papyrus told him, maybe he had liked the sight just as much as he did. Interesting…
Papyrus blushed, but didn’t resist, the pair of small shorts sliding off with only a bit of difficulty when they reached his boots. Grillby never stopped fingering his chest, gentle flames caressing his bones, grazing his soul.
“Grillby…” he moaned, watching him, shy again now that his pelvis was exposed. It was such a rare expression to see on the usually confident Papyrus. “…I…I’m not sure if…if I liked that…mmm…when you…”
“…Shh. It’s okay.” Grillby murmured. “I’ll be more gentle this time.”
And he was.
Now being able to see Papyrus’ entire pelvis, his touches were more precise. He used both hands for this, pouring magic into them, the temperature of the flames almost to the point of being uncomfortable, but not quite. His touch was light and nearly teasing, sliding along the ilium, first on the outside edge, then on the inner edge along the pelvic inlet. Papyrus, leaning up on his elbows to watch, inhaled sharply, his face entirely crimson. Despite his obvious embarrassment, his thighs inched apart, raising a hand to his mouth , muffling his moans.
Papyrus just nodded, whimpering a bit.
Grillby smirked a little and played a bit more. His fingers dipped into the holes above the ischium, then slipped back over the pubis where he got the most delicious reaction out of the young monster. Papyrus gasped and rolled his hips into his touch, laying back down again. Both hands covered his mouth, though Grillby could still hear his cries.
Leaving one hand on that particular sweet spot, Grillby laid his other flat across his sacrum, palm rolling over the bumps and ridges, down to his tail bone, rubbing gently. Papyrus’ thigh bones began to shake, but this time from pleasure alone. Magic began to build under his flaming touch and Grillby watched with intense fascination as it manifested into something solid, flesh-like, covering the empty space under Papyrus’ pelvis.
Grillby wasn’t entirely surprised. One night, when Sans had been particularly drunk, he had flirted with him enough to get this particular tid-bit of information about skeleton sexual anatomy. Sans hadn’t remembered the conversation the next day - or had pretended not to - but Grillby had.
It still was rather remarkable how it simply didn’t matter the gender of the skeleton. The magic provided whatever the bearer desired. And what Papyrus unconsciously desired was very blatant.
“…You’re so beautiful, Papyrus,” he murmured, raising the young monster’s hips so he could get a better view.
He glanced over at him and saw that Papyrus was covering his entire, solid crimson face with both hands. At the sound of his name, the skeleton spread his fingers so he could see, his breathing coming in hard and fast. “…D-Don’t…don’t look…it’s embarrassing…”
Grillby smirked and leaned in, letting his tongue slide into the warm folds of his summoned entrance. Papyrus cried out and…tried to squirm away.
Grillby firmly grabbed his thigh bones and kept him in place, his fiery tongue rubbing against the outer edge of the skeleton’s wet mound before plunging inside, tasting him deeply. His own magic was beginning to stir, unconsciously making his tongue hotter than intended.
Papyrus yelped and cried out loudly, his hips bucking. “AH! Grillby! Grillby, please!!”
Despite his protests, Grillby’s mouth was flooded with the young monster’s juices, sweet and tingly from the magic. Grillby drank all he had to offer, but it wasn’t enough. Never enough. His own body was burning with lust, his pants tented with his throbbing erection.
But he was patient. He continued his ministrations, licking and sucking. He pressed his thumb against the sensitive nub above his entrance, rolling in a circle. The sounds Papyrus made were so arousing. His sharp cries and breathless moans, as if he couldn’t even take a single full breath, went straight to Grillby’s cock. It ached and throbbed, spurring him to lick harder, his tongue pressing firmly against his sensitive walls which tightened and flexed around him.
Papyrus still struggled to get away, but he was so weak from the onslaught of stimulation, strength melting away from his quivering bones. He could do nothing, but just take it. He couldn’t even form full sentences.
“G-Grilb-ah!-by…st..ah!…st…sto-ah! AH!” he gasped, his words broken with moans and cries, the pleasure building and building.
Finally Papyrus’ spine arched clear off the floor and Grillby couldn’t breathe for a moment as his entire face was buried against his hot sex, a flood of juices filling his mouth. Papyrus practically screamed, his entire body trembling fiercely as his first-ever orgasm ripped through him. It was incredible.
After a few moments, Papyrus fell back against the floor with a clatter, breathing harshly. Grillby pulled back, sitting on his knees as he wiped his face clean and took a look at his handiwork.
It was a sight to behold.
Papyrus laid in a small pool of his own fluids, legs still spread wide apart, bent slightly at the knees. His chest heaved with every breath he took as he moaned, eye-sockets half-lidded. He was utterly out of it.
Perfect. Papyrus was so perfect.
The itch was unbearable at this point.
Grillby unbuckled his belt, finally releasing his throbbing cock. It glowed brightly in the darkness, its flame expanding once exposed, the gentle crackling growing louder. He didn’t waste any time, moving on top of the dazed Papyrus and rubbing the head of his fiery erection against that wet entrance. The contact made a slight sizzling sound, though it wouldn’t burn. Indeed, Papyrus wasn’t in pain, but started to come around.
The young monster raised his head, groggy. He blinked at Grillby’s cock. “What…what is that…?”
“…Shh. Relax. Don’t fight.”
Grillby raised Papyrus’ waist and pushed the head of his length past Papyrus’ folds…which tightened immediately at the intrusion.
“W…wait!” Papyrus was shaking again.
Grillby leaned over him, kissing his forehead. “…Just relax. Relax and it’ll feel good. I promise.”
Papyrus hands pressed against his chest, but there wasn’t an ounce of strength behind the push. They were shaking badly. He gripped his shirt instead. “P…please…Grillby…I don’t…I’m scared…”
“..Shh. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Slowly, gradually, Papyrus gave in with a soft sob. His body seemed to melt around Grillby, and he found it much easier to push the rest of the way in. Papyrus gasped, arching his back again. Grillby covered his body with his own, kissing his neck, his collarbone as he began to move, rocking in and out of his new toy, feeling no resistance.
No physical resistance anyways.
Papyrus was crying in earnest now, tears running down his cheeks as his entire body trembled. He didn’t say a word, though a moan or a soft grunt escaped his mouth now and again as Grillby brushed against his over stimulated walls.
“…Good…so good. …My good boy.” Grillby murmured, moving faster.
God it was everything he ever dreamed it being. He was gripped so incredibly tight. It still must have been a bit uncomfortable for Papyrus, it being his first time. But Papyrus was doing such a good job. Now and again he tensed when it got too much, but once he realized that just made it hurt more, he relaxed again, giving in to Grillby’s thrusts. His hips remained still, however, and Grillby made note to fix that later. For now, he grabbed them himself, pulling them in sync to his movements.
It must have started to feel good again for Papyrus, as his sobbing lessened and his moans returned, broken up a bit by tiny hiccups. Grillby reached between them, rubbing his fiery thumb against Papyrus’ clit as they continued to move. Papyrus tightened his grip on his shirt, gasping sharply. A single tear ran down his face and Grillby licked it off, trailing his tongue along his face.
God, he wished he had done this sooner.
It didn’t take long before Grillby neared his climax. It had been too long. He began to pound in earnest, over and over, the sound echoing in the empty establishment. Papyrus gasped and grunted, shuddering as he was utterly violated, but still trembling from pleasure. Both their magic began to pool and build where they were joined. Papyrus came a second time, crying out brokenly as his entire body went rigid, his walls locking onto Grillby’s cock.
It was more than enough.
Grillby impaled him to the hilt and came with a loud, deep, satisfied groan. Oh, so good. The orgasm rolled over him in waves. He rocked his hips a bit, riding it out. Papyrus jerked and gasped sharply under him at the motions, whimpering. But it was over soon enough. The itch was sated…for now.
They laid there on the floor for a moment longer, Papyrus shaking and sniffling, while Grillby quietly recovered his iron-clad composure. Gently, he pulled out and stood, fixing his pants. They had been stained a bit and would need to be washed. But he ignored it for now, staring down at Papyrus.
He was a mess, but it was such a beautiful mess. The young skeleton was still visibly shaking and wouldn’t look at him, face turned to the side where he still laid on his back, his thin arms half curled around his body as that could shield his naked form from view. Silent tears dripped from his jaw, adding to the pool of liquids on the once pristine floor.
Grillby bent down and picked up his shorts, tossing them to him.
“…Here. Get dressed.”
He walked back to the bar and picked up a pack of cigarettes he stashed under the counter. As he lit one and took a drag, he watched Papyrus slowly slide his pants back on and fix his shirt, still turned away from Grillby. He was so oddly quiet.
Once he was back on his shaky feet, Grillby walked over to him again. He felt Papyrus jump as he slid an arm around his still trembling shoulders.
“…See? No big deal at all.”
Papyrus sniffed and stared straight ahead, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. Grillby looked him over and noticed a line of cum running down his inner thigh bone. The sight made his soul throb with renewed lust, but he held it back. It wouldn’t do to ruin his brand new toy before he probably played with him yet.
Grillby walked him to the door, unlocking it, but he left his hand on the handle without turning it.
“…Papyrus. Let’s keep this a secret between us, okay?”
He looked and Papyrus finally turned his tear streaked face towards him. He could see the hurt clear as day in them.
“…Okay?” he repeated, putting a bit of edge to his voice.
Papyrus tensed and fear flashed in his eyes. He nodded.
“…Good. Come by tomorrow after training and we can talk some more about this and your brother.”
At the mention of Sans, Papyrus winced hard. Grillby ignored it.
“…I’m sure he’s in his bed by now. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you. Okay, Papyrus?”
He kissed the side of his temple and Papyrus let out a soft whimper. But still, he remained silent.
Grillby opened the door. “…Goodnight.”
Papyrus nodded shakily. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely there. “G..Good..night.”
Oh, it sent such a thrill through Grillby to hear it like that. So sad and quiet. Such a change from the loud and happy Papyrus he was just half an hour ago.
He had done that to him.
Oh make no mistake. Papyrus would recover. And then Grillby will be able to do it all over again. And again.
As he watched Papyrus step out into the cold, giving him a half hearted glance before heading shakily back home, Grillby felt a rush of excitement.
This was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
Grillby is JUST getting started. ;}
Tags for this chapter: NonCon, Papby (the worst kind), Fontcest (heavily implied), Sexual Manipulation, Explicit Smut (Groping/Fondling + Heavy Kissing + Handjob + Penetration), Date Rape
The door to his home creaked as Papyrus opened it, the sound obscenely loud in the silence. He closed it behind him with a soft click, locking it. The living room was dark with no sign of life. He took one more trembling step forward before collapsing to his knees. Pressing his forehead against the carpet, he wrapped his arms tightly around himself and sobbed.
Papyrus could still feel it, dried against his bones. It felt sticky and pervasive, feeling it everywhere, not just between his legs. Papyrus shuddered at the feeling, his entire body shaking. He couldn't make it stop.
A single name pierced through the jumble of his chaotic mind, a mind that wouldn't stop replaying those moments on Grillby's floor, over and over, only to come to a screeching halt when he remembered the bartender's last words to him.
"...I'm sure he's in his bed by now. "
He raised his tear streaked face and, with tremendous effort, got back to his feet. Still hugging himself tightly as if physically keeping himself together, Papyrus walked up the creaky stairs and across the second floor hallway to his brother's bedroom door. He pushed it open as quietly as possible and peered through the crack into the darkness inside. Faintly he could make out a Sans-shaped lump on the bare mattress and could hear his soft snoring.
Papyrus silently closed the door again, sighing heavily with relief.
Stupid. He should've just...waited for him. Why was he always so goddamn compulsive? Why didn't he just stay home?
He leaned his forehead against the door's surface, closing his eyes. All he wanted to do was run into Sans' room, cry his eyes out in his brother's arms, and have his brother tell him that it was going to be alright and that he'll make it better somehow. Pfft. How? Papyrus wasn't THAT stupid.
Slowly, he turned from the closed door and headed to the bathroom. There was no way he was going to bed without a shower. He faintly wondered if they had a scrub brush in there.
There wasn't, so Papyrus made due with a washcloth, scrubbing his bones raw under the hot water. Once he was as clean as he could possibly be, but never clean enough (he was going to end up like Woshua at this rate), Papyrus pressed his forehead against the shower wall. The cool pressure against his skull was soothing as he let the now chilled water run down his spine.
Maybe he hadn't been clear. Maybe Grillby misunderstood. Another misunderstanding. He was getting sick to his non-existent stomach of those. If only he had been clear...
Papyrus wished he had struggled more, pushed him harder...had said, "No."
He hadn't, had he? Not even once.
Why couldn't he just have said: "No, Grillby, I don't want this. Stop this right now! No!" He was sure if...if he had been very clear, Grillby would have stopped. He would have.
He...he was sure of it.
All of this could have been avoided.
Sick of the thought, Papyrus shut off the water. He dried off and left the bathroom with the full intention of sleeping this living nightmare away. He didn't know what time it was, but it couldn't have been very late. Papyrus remembered he had left dinner sitting in the kitchen. Not even remotely hungry, he decided he'd clean it up in the morning. He vaguely wondered if Sans had eaten anything when he had gotten back...
That was when he heard it.
Papyrus was passing his brother's bedroom door when he heard a familiar groaning coming from the other side. His head snapped up at the sound, his soul clenching. Not again. Not tonight.
But the earlier events of this horrid evening didn’t make a difference. Dropping all plans of sleeping, Papyrus quickly got dressed into a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. He returned to the bathroom and filled a glass with water.
Glass in hand, he took a deep, steadying breath outside Sans' room and went inside. As expected, Sans was caught up in a nightmare, tossing and turning against his thin, sweat-soaked sheets. Papyrus knelt beside him.
"Brother." He cleared his throat, forcing the hoarseness out of it. "Sans. Wake up. Come on."
It took a moment, Papyrus shaking his brother's shoulder gently. No matter how gentle he was, Sans always woke with a start. He sat up straight, gasping sharply. Sans' left eye flashed once with blue and yellow light before it died, plunging them back into darkness. His brother turned to him, eye lights reduced to pinpricks from fear, sweat running down his skull.
"Only a nightmare," Papyrus said, giving him a reassuring smile as he gripped Sans' shoulder in an attempt to ground him to the present moment. "Not real. Just a nightmare."
He felt the tension in his brother's collar bones ease away. Sans sighed heavily, bowing his head and Papyrus handed him the glass of water
"I'm sorry, Paps," Sans murmured, taking it.
Papyrus shook his head, sitting beside him on the bed and rubbing his brother's back. It was easy to ignore his own real life horror when his brother needed comfort. "It's totally okay, Sans. You know I'm always here for you."
Sans drank a mouthful of water before staring into the glass. "No, I mean...about earlier...I'm sorry."
It took Papyrus a moment to recall what Sans was talking about, which brought on a series of unpleasant images to flash across his mind's eye. He shut his eyes against it, shuddering. He forced himself to calm down. His brother needed him. When he opened his eyes again, his brother was still staring into his glass and hadn't notice his tiny episode. Good.
"It's fine. Don't mention it. ...I mean...I still don't really understand what happened." That was half a lie. True, Papyrus still had to figure out if Grillby was actually on to something and if he was, what did that mean? No. Not now. He'll have plenty of time to worry himself sick over this disgusting puzzle later. "But I, the Great Papyrus, am the best brother. Thus I am very understanding and forgiving. Don't worry yourself about it, Sans."
His words seemed to put his brother at ease, Sans' grin softening at the edges. The sight warmed his soul.
Sans looked up at him, still looking apologetic and...exhausted. "Sorry I woke you up."
"Like I said, Sans, it's fine. ...Though, are you okay? This is the third nightmare this week. Do you want to talk about it?"
Papyrus was slightly relieved when his brother shook his head. Honestly, he didn't think he could take an emotionally heavy conversation right now, and if Sans was having nightmares nearly every night, that was bound to be one.
"It's okay. I just...I dunno. I'm just tired."
Papyrus bit back a nagging statement, questioning how Sans could be tired when all he did was nap all day. Instead, he hugged him. "Well, then get some rest then. Do you want something to help you sleep?"
Sans shook his head again, smiling easily now. "No, it's okay. I think I'm good. ...Thanks, Paps. You're the best."
Papyrus squeezed his shoulders one last time before reluctantly letting him go. He didn't want to leave. Didn't want to be alone. But what could he say? He couldn't tell Sans what happened. Not when Sans already had something so heavy on his mind that it constantly woke him up in the middle of the night. Papyrus couldn't do that to him. Couldn't be that selfish. Besides, what could his brother do to make it better anyways? Nothing. No. This was his burden and his alone.
"Of course I am!" Papyrus gave Sans a loving smile that he barely had to force. "I'm the Great Papyrus, after all. The best brother of them all. If you need me, you know where to find me."
Sans nodded, his smile widening. "Heh heh. Goodnight, Papyrus."
Once back in the hallway, Papyrus leaned his back heavily against the door, his smile gone. He took another steadying breath and walked to his room where he found himself surrounded in a deafening silence and his own dark memories. Laying on top of his made bed, he stared up at the ceiling.
He didn't dare close his eye sockets.
After all, you can't have nightmares if you never fall asleep.
Papyrus didn't how long it took to get himself to walk through Grillby's front doors. He must have stood quivering and pacing back and forth in front of the Gyftrot tree for fifteen or more minutes until he realized he was attracting unwanted attention and finally ducked inside. It was the middle of the day and it was quite full with it being the lunch rush. Before Grillby could spot him, Papyrus sat down in a booth against the far right wall, hunching forward as if that would make him invisible.
As if against his will, his eye lights darted to the place on the floor where he...where they...where...
It was spotless, only a few scuffs from customers' shoes marred its shiny surface. There wasn't a single shred of evidence that what happened last night happened at all. Like some terrible nightmare. If only.
Papyrus swallowed hard. He didn't even know why he was there. This was a mistake. All he wanted to do was go back home and hide under his bed, or rush out of town to tend to his puzzles and occupy himself in some way. He didn't want to think about this.
But...he had to talk to Grillby. He had to make him...understand...how wrong it had been...what they'd done. He had to make sure that it'd never happen again. Papyrus shuddered at the thought, but remained seated. He was determined. Besides, the crowd's presence gave him some level of comfort.
At least Sans wasn't there. It wasn't an accident or some miracle that he wasn't. Papyrus had paid attention to his brother's habits. It was around this time that Sans, during and after his sentry shift, spent hours at the door to the ruins. What he did there, Papyrus wasn't sure. All he knew was that Sans wasn't at Grillby's around this time and that's all that mattered right now.
Before he tried convincing himself to leave again, Grillby suddenly appeared with a strawberry milkshake in hand as he slipped into the booth opposite him.
"...Here. On the house."
Every bone in Papyrus' body tensed up. It took a moment for him to speak, swallowing an invisible lump in his nonexistent throat. He couldn’t look at him. His hands gripped the drink set in front of him to keep them from rattling against the table. He took a long pull from the straw, just needing to distract himself, to gather his wits, to calm down. The milkshake's sweetness was tinted with a bitterness, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. The whole situation made him sick to his imaginary stomach.
"Thank you," he finally managed after he drained half the shake.
Papyrus forced himself to sit up straight and to look Grillby in the eye. He could do this. He was the Great Papyrus after all!
The fiery bar owner was silent, watching him patiently like he always did with his customers. Papyrus wasn't sure if it was encouraging or disquieting. He swallowed, fidgeting with the half-empty glass in his hands.
"Grillby...listen. I...what happened last night...I..."
"...You didn't enjoy yourself."
An unpleasant shiver ran up Papyrus' spine at the calmness of Grillby's voice. It hadn't been a question. He suddenly felt nauseous.
"No, Grillby. No, I did not." He grit his teeth before taking a calming, shaky breath, placing his hand on his sternum, wishing the nausea would pass. His voice fell to a whisper. "I...did not like it...at all."
A short silence fell between them. Papyrus had to look away, tears burning at edges of his eye sockets. Damnit, he could do this. He could...
What was even the point of this?
Papyrus started a bit, turning to face him as his tears spilled over from the motion, taken off guard. Grillby's face was unreadable, but that was understandable since he barely had any facial features to express emotion to begin with and Papyrus didn't know him enough to judge him by his flames.
"...I'm sorry," Grillby said again, reaching out to touch Papyrus' wrist. He wanted to pull away, but forced himself to stay. Grillby seemed to smiled a little. "...I made a mistake. ...I am sorry."
Papyrus felt some of his discomfort fade a bit, though the unease in his soul was still there. He didn't even know where to begin to soothe the trauma there.
"I...well...well, good Grillby. Because...because that was really, really horrible! And I just don't understand why you...why you did that! Maybe I gave you the wrong impression, but I... You are a good person, I know you are. So...so I just...I just don't...d-don't..."
Papyrus trailed off as a strange sensation rippled over his senses, engulfing him, spreading throughout his entire body. He felt very...odd. His bones seemed to hum, suddenly sensitive to whole world around him. It was dizzying and made it hard to focus. He let go of the half-drunk milkshake, pressing the palms of his hands against the table to keep himself upright.
"Uh...w-what...what was I..."
"...Don't worry, Papyrus."
Grillby stood from his side of the table and walked over to him, leaning down.
"...I'll do better this time."
The feeling got worse. It washed over him like an overpowering wave, a rush of warmth and...fuzziness. Papyrus could barely describe it. His mind felt...fluffy. It almost felt...good, though he was still a bit nauseous. No, he was definitely not well. Not well at all.
Vaguely, Papyrus realized that Grillby had pulled him into his arms and was carrying him away from the populated seating area of the bar, stepping through the kitchen door. He registered flashes of fire and bursts of noise, pressing his face against Grillby's shirt to muffle the sound and block out the light. Oh, it was so bright, so loud. He found himself running his fingers over the bartender's silk vest. The fabric felt different. It felt...nice.
In fact, everything felt nice.
Really, really nice.
Papyrus was dimly aware that he was being carried up a set of stairs and through another door. He finally glanced around and saw that it was a bedroom. Closing the door behind them, Grillby placed him on the edge of a large bed. Papyrus sat there, leaning on his arms as he swayed a little, focusing on his breathing. The action eased his discomfort and felt rather good. The sensation of his shuddering, deep breath, the air running over his bones, then back out again, grounded him, made it less...overwhelming.
Grillby knelt in front of him and pressed a fiery hand against Papyrus' cheek. He couldn't help but lean into it, his eye sockets fluttering. It was so warm.
"Oh...that feels...really good."
"...Good, Papyrus. I'm glad. I want you to feel good." Grillby's thumb brushed over his lower jaw, then over his teeth. "Never forget that."
The flaming digit felt amazing against his bare bones and so he gave no resistance as it guided his mouth open. Grillby removed his hand and leaned forward, their faces inches apart. Papyrus closed his eye sockets at his proximity. God, it was so bright. A slithering warmth filled his mouth and it felt amazing. Papyrus' tongue manifested almost on its own, seeking and sliding up against it. Grillby moaned softly against his mouth and that solid warmth pressed back, twirling and rubbing against his tongue. It sent shivers throughout his entire body.
An incredible heat climbed his ribs, pulling up the top half of his battle body. It took a moment for Papyrus to realize it was Grillby's hands.
He pulled back, breaking the kiss and pushing against Grillby's chest. It was a feeble attempt, but Grillby moved back anyway, his fiery tongue sliding back into his mouth. The sight sent a surge of desire that Papyrus tried vainly to force away.
"G-Grillby, no!" he said breathlessly. "Stop that!"
"...Why? I know it feels good."
"It...it does...but... Damnit, Grillby... I'm trying to be...to be nice here...Oh..."
Grillby had stroked along his ribs again as another wave of...this feeling rolled over him. Papyrus inhaled shakily, arching into the touch, before he shook his head vigorously to snap out of it. The gesture felt quite good actually, and it took a moment before he stopped himself, realizing how silly he must have appeared. He kept breathing deeply. The act eased the dizziness and the nausea, and allowed him to savor the fuzzy pleasure that ran over his body, his bones rattling gently with each exhale. The combination of the strange sensation and Grillby's heat was intoxicating.
"...Well, what is it? Why don't you want this?" Grillby asked calmly.
Papyrus opened his eyes and forced himself to look at the monster in front of him. He just had to...had to make it absolutely clear. No more misunderstandings.
"I don't...I don't like you that way, Grillby. I mean...I barely know you...and...you're old and creepy...and you don't listen to me!"
The bartender chuckled softly and reached out, grasping his chin. "...Okay. Then let's use this time to get to know each other. How about that?"
It took a long moment for Papyrus to respond. His senses were constantly being overwhelmed and for a moment he focused only on breathing, in...and out... His teeth chattered and clenched. It almost felt like he had lost control over his own body, but...in a good way.
"O...Oh...Okay," he finally forced out, relaxing his jaw as he blinked out of the haze of fuzzy bliss.
"...Is there someone you do like?" Grillby's other hand slid up Papyrus' femur, brushing under the leg of his shorts, fingertips trailing along the very edges of his pelvis.
Papyrus shivered, moaning softly. "G-Grillby...this is what...what I'm talking about..."
"...Answer me, Papyrus."
It was hard to think with everything going on, but he could only focus on one thing, everything else impossible to grab hold of. So he returned his attention to his own breathing. In...and out, in...and out... God, he felt so good. He was barely aware that he was rolling his hips against Grillby's touch.
"No...maybe...I don't...I don't know..."
"...Shh, it's okay." Grillby caressed his cheekbone, brushing away his tears before they fell. "...It's okay. You're okay. ...Tell me who. Is there someone you do like that way? Is that why you can't let yourself enjoy this?"
Papyrus felt himself spread his thighs. It felt good to do it, even if he pushed into Grillby's hand. It just felt...good. He tried to focus on the question.
"Um...I...don't know. I mean...last night...when Sans...god, Sans..."
There was a longer pause from Grillby than usual, his fingers rubbing circles along his upper thigh.
"...Do you want Sans to touch you like this?"
Papyrus felt the heat rise to his face, the temperature almost unbearable. He covered it with his hands, falling back against the bed. "No...mmm....maybe.....maybe a little...or a lot..."
Grillby chuckled. "Have you told him?"
"Of course not, Grillby! Stop being weird..." Papyrus turned his head against the sheets, eye sockets sliding shut again as he hummed deeply.
"He's...he's my brother...ooh... That's...that's weird...mmmmm...isn't it? I...maybe...I...I love him, but...it's...it's not like that. We're brothers. We're not...that's not... Brothers...brothers don't...do things...like that...it's...mmmmm...it's weird." Papyrus opened his eye sockets and stared hard at the wall. "It's wrong...this is wrong..."
There was another long pause from the bartender as everything darkened for Papyrus, twisting into something black and ugly. Tears threatened to fall again. It was wrong. What was he doing? Why did he feel this way? What was wrong with him?
He felt Grillby move onto the bed, straddling his waist. The proximity of his heat was utterly distracting, the high temperature rolling over his face, his chest. A warm hand grabbed his jaw, forcing Papyrus to look at him. It was a struggle to keep him in focus.
"...It doesn't have to be wrong, Papyrus. It can just feel good." Grillby ran his fingertips down his chest, one rib at a time. Papyrus moaned, each touch like hot wax against his bones.
"...What if...you pretended that I was Sans, hm?"
Papyrus blinked and shakily pushed himself up on his elbows as he tried to focus on the bartender's face. "W-what?"
Grillby smiled, stroking his cheek. "...Just leave it to me, Papyrus."
The bartender leaned forward and Papyrus squinted at the brightness. His scarf was slipped from his neck and, before he could protest, Grillby wrapped it around his eyes, shutting out the light. It was actually a relief. Still, Papyrus grabbed Grillby's wrists as he secured the makeshift blindfold.
"What...what are you doing...? I...I can't see..."
"...Pretend I'm Sans. It will be easier this way."
"W-What?! Grillby, how? You...You're...you're too warm....and...taller."
"...Shhh. Use your imagination. Be a good boy and do as I say."
Papyrus groaned in frustration, letting himself drop flat against the sheeted mattress again. Once he did, he was overtaken by the rolling pleasure again, a deep satisfied hum escaping him. He didn't protest as Grillby unzipped his shorts and slid them off. He was so hot. Sweat had begun to slick his bones and the fresh air of the room was so refreshing against his naked pelvis. It felt so good that he didn't even resist this time as the bartender pulled off his shirt, peeling away his battle body and leaving him completely exposed on the bed.
Papyrus didn't know what had gotten into him. He also didn't care. It felt so good. He spread his thighs wider, rolling his torso against the open air, sliding his hands along the sheets. He didn't know how long he was left there for, overtaken by a fuzzy pleasure that was enhanced by the blindfold. It wasn't until the familiar heat of Grillby's hands grasped his shoulders, pulling him up into a seated position, that he recalled the last thing the bartender had said.
"W-what...what do you mean?" he asked breathlessly.
Papyrus felt Grillby move behind him on the bed. Judging by the intense heat against his back. The bar owner must have undressed as well. Papyrus wasn't complaining. The flames of Grillby's chest and stomach licking his spine felt so amazingly pleasant. He leaned against him, moaning softly.
"...Shh. It's not me, remember?" Grillby whispered. "...Imagine him . Sans, your brother. He's here. And he wants to make you feel good. Feel really good."
"...Do as I tell you. ...Tell him. Tell him what you want."
He felt Grillby rest his chin on his shoulder, something hot and slithering pressing against the side of his neck. Papyrus inhaled deeply and almost unintentionally... he appeared in the blackness against his eyes.
His brother was grinning slyly at him, standing in his blue jacket, close enough to touch.
"...What do you want him to do to you?" Grillby asked, the warmth of his breath sending ripples of pleasure down his body.
"Um...um..." Papyrus couldn't think for a moment, his entire focus centered around that single image. "I...I...I want...I want him...I want Sans to...to touch...to touch me..."
Before he even finished speaking, Sans leaned forward and brushed his boney fingers along his sternum, his brother's touch unusually hot.
Papyrus nodded, then shook his head, moaning. "...N...No...l...lower..."
His brother's grin grew an inch as his hand trailed down his rib cage, then his spine. Oh, now that felt...that felt...
As Sans' heated fingers slid down each vertebrae, Papyrus moaned loudly, arching into it.
His brother chuckled softly, but complied. Sans could never say no to him. It always made him feel...so great. And in this context, it felt even...more. It felt different. It felt...god it felt...
Sans' fingers grasped his pubis bone and Papyrus almost came right there and then. He cried out softly, arching and rolling into it. His magic materialized nearly instantly, different this time, into something thick and solid, arching into the open air. Oh, it felt so good. It throbbed with pleasure at the slightest touch.
"P-Please...Sans...Sans...don't stop...p-please...oh gosh...mmmm..."
Sans trailed his fingertips along the edge of his length, sending ripples of pleasure throughout his pelvis. Even with his senses muffled, Papyrus could imagine it clearly. Long and curved, like Grillby's, just not made of fire, a bead of clear liquid building on its head. He felt Sans wrap his hand around it, and the image matched the feeling perfectly. Slowly, his brother began to stroke.
"Oh! Oh Sans! Oh! Please!" Papyrus arched into his hand, leaning heavily against Grillby's solid body behind him. The pleasure was mind blowing. Every bone trembled, slick with sweat, his hips rocking into that delicious friction. "Sans! Oh, Sans! Yes! More! More! Please!"
Dimly, he heard Grillby chuckle softly against his cheek. "...So sensitive."
Sans squeezed his length tightly before he began stroking faster, his other hand reaching for Papyrus' chest again. His brother's fingers were like lit matches against his bones, rubbing between each rib, the act sending shockwaves of heat and pleasure to his core.
Papyrus reached behind him, holding onto the back of Grillby's head for support, the other gripping his arm, completely made undone. He couldn't speak clearly anymore, moaning and gasping loudly, his entire body going into meltdown.
Only one clear word made it past his tongue.
"Nngh! Ah! Sans! Mmm! Sans! Oh! Sans! Sans! Nngh! SANS!"
His bones quivered heavily against Grillby's chest, the pleasure pooling hot and fast at the center of his pelvis. It was too much. Too much! Sans' hand moved faster, brushing a thumb along the tip, pressing down. Papyrus cried out sharply, bucking his hips into the air as everything went white hot with searing pleasure.
It mercilessly held him captive for several long moments, his rigid body convulsing with ecstasy, before it finally released him. He collapsed like a ragdoll against Grillby's chest, trembling. Dazed and out of breath, he was vaguely aware of something warm and wet running down his lower spine.
Papyrus felt strong, sweltering arms shift him around. His scarf was removed and he winced at the brightness of the room, at the blinding body of fire that was holding him. He could barely recall what just happened as his jaw was held in Grillby's firm grip.
"...Good. Very good." Grillby had removed his glasses and there was a predatory hunger in his fiery white eyes. He leaned forward, licking Papyrus' neck, then up the side of his face. The grip on his jaw tightened. Papyrus whimpered.
"...Now it's my turn."
Grillby drank in the sight of Papyrus. The drug was still working in his toy's system, the lights in his eye sockets dilated and bright, shimmering. They rolled back as drugged ecstasy continued to sweep through the young monster's trembling body as he whimpered. Grillby itched to devour him, to wreck him, a primal hunger consuming his soul.
He shoved Papyrus against the bed and moved on top of him. The minute his waist rested between Papyrus' thighs, the dazed look in his eyes vanished.
"N-No!" Grillby could tell it was a struggle, watched as the young monster fought against the fog, pushing weakly against his chest as he tried to focus, eyes wide.
"Grillby," Papyrus gasped out, voice hoarse and laced with panic, but the words were clear as day. "N-no...no, no...stop. No!"
It was as if all Papyrus needed was for Grillby to hear him and that would end everything. Grillby paused and stared at him impassively, taking in the way Papyrus' hands rattled faintly against his chest. He waited until hope and relief began to ease the fear from the young monster's eyes.
Grillby chuckled as he swept away his hands and leaned down, covering Papyrus' body with his own like a sweltering blanket. He pressed his mouth against the side of his toy's smooth skull.
"...Stop saying that word to me, Papyrus."
He fed his magic, his maddening lust, into his flames and Papyrus gasped sharply, a choked cry lost in the dull roar. Grillby's body temperature rose sharply, his flames briefly engulfing them both. Papyrus cried out, pushing against his fiery shoulders, but there was no escape. Grillby buried his face into his neck, licking and sucking on the bone. He growled deeply as he rolled his hips, grinding against him.
The beautiful cock Papyrus had made earlier was gone, having disappeared moments after his orgasm, but Grillby could still feel the young monster's magic swirling and pooling at his center. He spread Papyrus' femurs wider and pressed in further. His throbbing member slid inside his pelvic inlet and against his toy's sacrum. Papyrus trembled as he choked on a loud moan, gripping Grillby tightly.
Tears were running down his face again, Papyrus' entire body shaking badly. Grillby was impressed he could still speak at all. Papyrus wasn't even looking at him, the lights in his sockets unfocused and flickering, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. His mouth hung open, panting.
Grillby gave another rough thrust and the lights in Papyrus' eyes widened as he clenched his teeth, his fingertips digging into Grillby's shoulders. Then the tension melted away, the lids of his eye sockets falling halfway closed. "...p-please...
"...Come on, Papyrus." Grillby continued to grind against his pelvis, groaning deeply. But it wasn't enough. He gripped Papyrus' jaw, forcing him to face him, to stay conscious. "...Come on. Give it to me. Give me what I want."
He reached down with his free hand, grasping Papyrus' pubic bone, rubbing roughly. The young skeleton jerked at the touch, trembling bones drenched with sweat.
"...Come on, Papyrus," Grillby murmured, his lust burning hot. "...Be my good boy."
"Nngh! Ha...ha...Sa...he...lp..." Papyrus gasped and moaned incomprehensibly, eyelids fluttering. "...S...a..."
Finally, he obeyed. Whether consciously or unconsciously, Grillby would never know. All he knew was that the moment Papyrus' magic wrapped hot and tight around his cock, Grillby lost all self-control.
Grillby brutally fucked him, gripping Papyrus' hips and pulling them, his cock ramming to the hilt with each thrust. Papyrus eyes widened, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream. His hands dropped from Grillby's shoulders, gripping and twisting the sheets. His ribcage rattled with short, shallow breaths, broken by groans and tiny cries.
Grillby pressed their chests together and he could feel Papyrus' soul, radiating an overwhelming mix of drugged ecstasy, immense pleasure, a dash of pain, and fear. So much fear. Grillby kissed and nuzzled his neck, his cheek. He increased the pace, but lessened the force, his climax building so fast. Papyrus whimpered, his breathing hitching more with each thrust. His toy was utterly unresisting, his slick walls squeezing Grillby's cock, hot and tight. It was incredible. He was a natural.
Grillby groaned. "...Good. Yes...oh yes. ....Papyrus...my good boy, so good..."
He pounded into him, over and over, the sound of their lovemaking like music to his ears.
Suddenly, Papyrus locked onto him, squeezing him impossibly tight as he came again, his entire body convulsing. He didn't make a sound, just arching wordlessly against Grillby's violation. His eye lights burned bright and hot for one dazzling instant, almost as bright as Grillby's body, then blinked out of existence as he came down, leaving his sockets dark and empty.
The whole spectacle shoved Grillby over the edge, climaxing the moment Papyrus had tightened around his cock, gripping him nearly to the point of pain.
"...F-fuck!" Grillby shuddered and groaned loudly as he spilled inside Papyrus, long and hard, filling his toy's magic to the brim with his release.
He collapsed on top of him, panting as the tail end of his orgasm washed over him. Grillby rolled his hips, blindly seeking more pleasure. His hands ran over Papyrus' femurs, pulling him close.
Oh, it was so good. So, impossibly good. Grillby just soaked it in, nuzzling into Papyrus' neck.
There was no response.
Grillby pulled away, looking down at his used toy. The lids of his eye sockets were mostly closed, the sliver that was open revealing nothing, but darkness. The only sign of life was his expanding chest as he breathed deeply, his soul quivering beneath his sternum.
Grillby smiled, his soul warm with a deep, possessive fondness.
His smile faded as he recalled Papyrus' first orgasm that day, the name that his toy all but screamed.
With a sigh, Grillby rose and gently shifted Papyrus so he lay more comfortably near the center of the bed. He covered him with the dirtied sheets. It wouldn't matter since Papyrus was so soiled himself. Grillby would take care of it later. He folded and placed Papyrus' clothes near the edge of the bed and then got dressed himself. Thanks to his anatomy, he didn't need to have to worry about cleaning himself. All of Papyrus' release had either evaporated or absorbed into his magic. He could still feel the young monster's brand of magic swirling with his own, filling him with a different kind of warmth that you couldn't get from a fire.
Once fully dressed, Grillby walked over to the wall in front of the bed where a large T.V. and shelves packed with fire-proofed books stood. He reached above the television and pushed two books away from the small video camera that was hidden between them, the red recording light still glowing brightly.
Grillby turned it off and returned the books back to where they were. He needed to check the footage, but he had spent too much time away from his bar already. Usually the place ran itself, most of his customers spending the time socializing rather than actually eating. Still, Grillby didn't want them destroying the place.
He walked out the room, locking the door. Grillby was sure Papyrus would sleep the rest of the day, but he still didn't want to chance him leaving before they could talk about what would come next.
Deeply satisfied with how things were going, Grillby stepped through his loud kitchen, run by his fire sprites, and walked through the doors to his restaurant. Sitting at the bar, somehow magically getting his hands on a bottle of ketchup on his own, was his most regular of regulars.
"Sup, Grillby?" Sans' grin was as wide as ever on his face. "Sounded like you had a lot of fun up there."
"..." Grillby fought the smile that threatened to spread on his face.
"...You have no idea."
Sans snickered and went back to his ketchup.
No idea at all.
The real nightmare begins.
Tags for this chapter: Mentions of NonCon, Rape Aftermath, Papby (the worst kind), Fontcest (heavily implied), Sexual Manipulation, Forced Kissing, Groping, Angst, Blackmail.
I apologize. I am a dirty liar.
There is no smut in this chapter or the next.
I tried. I really did. But I felt it would be better to have three normal-sized chapters, rather than a 10k+ behemoth of a chapter just because I wanted to include smut.
I hope you enjoy it regardless of the lack of pure, unadulterated sin. The next two chapters are already written and will be posted this Sunday and then the next. Think of it as your favorite T.V. show that airs every Sunday.
Again, my apologizes for the immense wait. Now without further ado...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Papyrus woke up to a dark and quiet room under a wooden ceiling he didn't recognize. Groaning softly in pain, he struggled to sit up. It was like fighting against a soul-sucking fog that sapped the strength from his quivering bones. Black drapes covered the only windows in the large unfamiliar bedroom, giving him the impression that it was very late. Disorientated and dizzy, he tried to stand.
That's when he felt it.
Throwing off the sheets, Papyrus stared down at himself, his soul seizing in sharp terror.
It was difficult to see, but it didn't matter. He could still make out the stains, could even smell them...
Papyrus wanted to throw up.
It happened again. It happened again. It happened...
Hugging himself tightly, he crossed his legs hard enough to hurt, as if he could somehow collapse inside himself and disappear. He lowered his head as the memories came flooding back in sharp, painful, distorted fragments. It felt distant and faded...detached, as if they belonged to someone else. This couldn't possibly be real. No, no, no. Just a nightmare. A bad one, but...
His body ached, more evidence that his memories were real and not some sick, horrifying delusion. It didn't help that the current room he resided in was identical to the visions in his mind. Everything hurt.
How could he?
How could he do this?!
Disgust and panic paralyzed him for a moment as he struggled not to hyperventilate. It wasn't safe here. He had to get out...
He had to... he had to...
Get out of there!
Searching frantically for his clothes, Papyrus spotted them neatly folded at the foot of the bed. He tried desperately to calm down, to steady his breathing and his trembling. It was impossible; he was still so weak. His magic was still recovering, having been utterly depleted earlier. He forced himself to stand anyway, shaking like an old monster nearing the end of his lifespan. Leaning on the bed with one hand for balance, he walked along the frame towards his clothes and got dressed as quickly as his battered body allowed. It was no simple task. His soul quivered with what must have been the after effects of whatever magic Grillby had used on him. He took a deep breath to keep himself from sobbing.
He had to get home.
Once he managed to dress himself, Papyrus walked unsteadily towards the door. He reached for the handle only for it to turn on its own. Papyrus stumbled backwards as Grillby filled the space between him and the door, his brilliant fiery body illuminating the entire room and casting flickering shadows.
"No...No, stay back!" Papyrus croaked, backing away.
He remembered the windows.
"...Papyrus," Grillby called softly, like nothing was wrong, like that afternoon and the night before never happened. "Wait, I..."
Spinning on his heel, Papyrus staggered towards the draped windows. The room began to tilt at the sudden movement, but Papyrus grit his teeth against it. He had to get away! Grillby was moving behind him and Papyrus nearly had his hands on the heavy fabric when he heard a soft click, cracking the silence.
His own voice filled the room.
"...Do as I tell you. ...Tell him. Tell him what you want."
He stopped breathing, his soul seizing in terror. Slowly, he turned towards the too familiar voices. Grillby stood near the foot of the bed, a remote control in his hand, pointed to the large television set that Papyrus hadn't noticed before that moment.
"...What do you want him to do to you?"
Splashed across the screen in vibrant colors was Papyrus, sitting on Grillby's naked lap. The bartender's fiery body seemed to engulf his skeletal frame, stark white except for the bright red scarf that covered his eyes. It felt unreal, watching himself squirm and pant, overtaken by some strange, overpowering magic. In fact, it was so obscene that Papyrus was nearly relieved. This had to be a nightmare. This couldn't possibly be really happening. Thank Heavens! All he had to do was wake up.
"I...I...I want...I want him...I want Sans to...to touch...to touch me..."
Papyrus on screen moaned. "N...No...l...lower..."
Like a moth to a flame, Papyrus was drawn to the light of the television, his wobbling knees giving way as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He stared transfixed as the film continued. Television Grillby's hand lowered from his television self's ribcage down to his spine and kept going. He heard his voice plead breathlessly for more, arching into the touch. It carried on and Papyrus watched, screaming inside.
"Oh! Oh Sans! Oh! Please! Sans! Oh, Sans! Yes! More! More! Please! Ah! SANS!"
A click pierced through the feverish cries and it, along with the image on the television, died, plunging the room into silence. The only source of light in the room was Grillby himself, standing near him like a living, self-contained bonfire, much too close for comfort.
He could have been miles away in Hotland and it still would have been too close.
"...Papyrus," he said softly and yet still too loudly. Too real. "We need to talk."
Papyrus stared at the dark television set, begging silently with himself to wake up.
There was no answer. He wasn't waking up. This was real.
Grillby had it recorded. He recorded it.
He recorded it.
What kind of monster would do such a thing?
Not getting any response, Grillby sat beside him with a faint sigh. Every bone in Papyrus body went rigid at his proximity.
"...I am concerned," he said as if they were having a nice chat before bed.
Papyrus blinked back tears. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice hoarse and barely audible.
The bartender's arm fell across his shoulders and Papyrus jumped. "...This attraction," he said softly, leaning close to the side of his skull. "Obsession even. It's not exactly...healthy. Some would even call it...disgusting."
Hot shame spread across his face and with the heat rolling off Grillby in waves, it was almost unbearable. "I'm..I'm not..."
"...And keeping secrets?" Grillby clicked his tongue like a reprimanding school teacher. "...Papyrus. I think you can do better."
Papyrus took a shuddering breath, struggling not to cry. "What do you want from me?"
"...Let's show this video to Sans."
Sans, his infuriating yet beloved brother, witnessing him, the Great Papyrus, drenched in sweat and calling Sans' name over and over, his bones rattling as he allowed Grillby to touch him till everything burned white hot with searing pleasure...
If the situation hadn't been so dire, Papyrus would have fainted. Pure terror and panic kept him conscious.
"NO! NO, WE CAN’T! PLEASE!" He turned to him, gripping his shirt, built up tears running down his face. "I'M BEGGING YOU! HAVE MERCY!"
Grillby's face softened into a smile. "...There, there. It'll be alright. ...But if you insist we keep this a secret, well... I'm going to need some...incentive..."
As he spoke, Grillby ran his hand up his inner thigh, his flaming fingers caressing the bone before sliding further up under his shorts, fingering his pubic arch. Papyrus' body locked up against the invasive touch and for a moment it was all he could focus on -- Grillby's index and middle fingers rubbing along his most sensitive area, the thumb brushing back and forth along his femur. Papyrus grit his teeth against a whimper.
"...to keep silent," Grillby breathed, voice husky as he pressed in closer. Papyrus felt the bartender's hot breath and the edges of his flames lick the side of his skull. "He is my best friend after all. It doesn't feel right to lie."
This couldn't be happening. Papyrus mind stuttered to a halt, becoming hyper aware of Grillby's hand, of his body, of the sulfurous stench of his breath. His soul throbbed painfully and he forced himself to think. Think!
Sans must not see that video at all cost!
The bartender's hand shifted, sliding his heated palm along his aching sacrum. Papyrus shivered, shutting his eye-sockets tightly.
He had to try.
"Grillby," he begged softly, his voice little more than a harsh whisper. He opened his eyes to look at him imploringly, searching his face for something, anything! "Please." He tightened his grip on Grillby’s shirt to steady his hands. "Stop. P-Please stop. D-Don't do this. We...w-we can stop all of this right now... pretend it never happened. I..I..I-I'll forgive you. I swear. Just...please...s-stop. S-Stop this, Grillby."
His voice dissolved into tiny and pathetic sobs at the end, unable to compose himself. Grillby's fiery white eyes stared back impassively for a moment before they filled with something akin to deep disappointment. With a single look, Papyrus felt like a baby bones again, small and vulnerable.
The bartender's hand stopped and for a moment Papyrus thought he managed to reach him and the nightmare was finally over. Grillby brought both hands to his face, cupping his jaw and brushing away his tears with a deceiving kindness. "...Papyrus. What did I tell you our first time together? You were afraid, like you are now. What did I tell you? Do you remember?"
It took only a second for him to realize what he was referring to. How could he forget?
Papyrus' pathetic weeping intensified. Fat tears rolled down his cheekbones and onto Grillby's fingers, popping like water on a hot skillet as he sobbed. "Nooo...Grillby, please..."
"...Papyrus." Grillby's voice sharpened, the parental edge becoming familiar, and his gentle gaze darkened with an unspoken threat. "Tell me."
"You...You said...that it won't hurt..." Papyrus hiccupped between soft sobs, the words barely coming through. "It won't hurt...if I don't...if I don't fight it..."
"...Exactly." Grillby smiled and leaned forward, gently kissing Papyrus' forehead, stroking his face. "So don't. Everything will be fine. Just...relax and do as I say. Be a good boy for me, okay? Sans will never have to know and I'll...I'll make you feel so good, Papyrus. So good... Okay?"
Papyrus couldn't stop sobbing. What else could he do?
Grillby gently tilted his chin up and kissed him. His sobbing eased as he obeyed, letting his mouth fall open to the bartender's demanding tongue. He didn't have the magic to summon his own to reciprocate, not that he wanted to. The slithering appendage pressed against every inch of his mouth, its suffocating heat spreading throughout his body. The bartender's hand slid down his lower spine, stroking there first, before sliding to his sacrum once more, fiery fingertips pushing into the holes, making him jerk and nearly bite down. Despite the urge, he knew that would only make matters worse. Terror gripped his soul, paralyzing his body and mind.
Perhaps when it became clear Papyrus wasn't returning the kiss anytime soon, yet was still pliant and unresisting against him, Grillby decided to move to his neck, kissing and nipping gently. Papyrus tensed and jerked at the treatment to his sore bones, but he was too drained. Too weak.
"Please," he pleaded faintly. "I can't...I'm...I'm so tired...please..."
Finally, it stopped. Grillby pulled away and eyed him critically, assessing him. Papyrus sat there, quivering and struggling to keep his eyes open.
The bartender sighed with deep disappointment, his flames expanding at the expulsion of air. "...Very well. It is quite late and I might have gone a little overboard earlier today. I apologize."
Did Grillby just apologize? Was he dreaming again? Papyrus wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and stay there for a thousand years, but it was obvious Grillby wasn't done.
"...Behind the bar, there's an emergency exit that opens to a set of stairs that leads up to the hallway outside this room. Come back tomorrow a few hours before closing time and wait for me. ...Understood?"
Papyrus nodded immediately. Anything if it meant he could leave.
"...Good boy." Grillby gave his pelvis one final squeeze before finally drawing his hands away. "...You can go. Just remember what we talked about. Think about what would happen if you foolishly decided to disobey me. Just...think about it."
Papyrus nodded again, barely listening at this point. The moment it was clear he was allowed to leave without severe, irreversible repercussions, he got to his feet and shuffled to the door. Grillby remained seated at the bed and while he kept his eye-sockets diverted, Papyrus could feel his burning gaze watching his every move until he closed the door behind him.
He didn't look back.
A few moments later, Papyrus found himself outside Grillby's front door, the icy chill of Snowdin’s bitter wind seeping deep into his bones. They rattled softly as he wrapped his arms around himself as if that could keep in his nearly nonexistent body temperature. He felt so weak.
Could he make it home?
Did he even want to?
It was either very late or extremely early depending on how one looked at it. It was always difficult to tell once the stores closed. What gave it away was the silence. Everyone sleeping safe and warm in their beds, the businesses dark and empty, including the Librarby. Papyrus continued to stand by the Gyftrot tree, like he had hours ago when he had been trying to gather the strength to go in and confront Grillby.
Looking back, he desperately wished his courage had failed him and he had gone straight home that morning.
Or better yet, had just told Sans everything.
Papyrus couldn’t go home like this. What if his brother was still awake, waiting for him? His knees were still unsteady and he knew he must have looked a mess. True, all the magical residue had dried, but it was still noticeable to someone paying attention. Last time he had been lucky. This time...
Would Sans be asleep again? Could Papyrus make it to the bathroom unseen?
Stars, could he even make it to the front step?
He didn’t want to even attempt it. The very idea of going home looking like this made him ill. Still, Papyrus needed to go somewhere before someone woke up and caught him standing out here like some weirdo. Taking a breath, he headed tentatively towards the direction of his home. However, at the intersection, he took a left and kept walking until he found the Riverperson sitting silently in their boat. Papyrus wondered if they ever went home, or if they even had one to begin with.
He was torn between being grateful and terrified at seeing them, not sure how they'll react. The Riverperson didn’t say anything as he approached silently, stepping into their boat without looking at them.
“Where will we go today?” they asked quietly, staring ahead.
“Waterfall,” Papyrus whispered hoarsely, sitting down. He was relieved that they didn't ask questions. They never did.
The Riverperson nodded in acknowledgment.“Then we’re off…”
The boat took off down the river, taking Papyrus away from Snowdin and all of his problems. Papyrus hugged his knees tightly to his chest, burying his face against his arms.
"Tra la la. Don't snoop behind people's houses... You might be mistaken for a trash-can," the Riverperson sang.
Papyrus glanced up at the back of their head. The lighthearted tone of their voice sounded grating to his ears, like a tasteless insult. The strange, almost welcoming sensation that this was again all just a dream washed over him, as if he were stuck in a moving painting. But instead of the horror of Grillby's room being the dream, it was the way the rest of the world simply carried on as normal that had become the nightmare. Everything from the cool breeze, the gentle slapping of water against the sides of the boat, the Riverperson's soft humming, it was all so utterly obscene.
Were they mocking him? Was it a warning? Or was he just thinking too much into this?
He wanted this horrible night to end already.
Papyrus gritted his teeth together, grinding slowly as he dug his fingers into his arms.
Oh, how he wanted to scream!
He swallowed it down and pressed his forehead back against his knees.
The boat carried on.
After disembarking at Waterfall, Papyrus shuffled to the left, crossing the chamber right outside Undyne’s cave. The good thing about it being so late was he didn’t even have to worry about running into her. Or anybody. Even the little duck that took passengers over the small gap wasn’t there. It was probably dozing off in its warm, comfortable nest somewhere. Papyrus was both happy and jealous of the little bird. Not that he’d ever admit that he was jealous. Or lonely. Not him. Not the Great Papyrus.
Alone at the very edge of the water, Papyrus carefully peeled off his clothes and stepped into the cool waist-high water. It wasn’t exactly the best in terms of a bath, but it was better than the alternative. Even if someone did happen to walk by, he could easily make up an excuse they’d believe. Being caught by Sans as he walked through their front door as an utter mess would have been much more difficult to wave off.
As quietly as possible, he waded to a more hidden corner of the pool where three walls and a tiny patch of land gave him some measure of privacy. He placed his neatly folded clothes within reach on the dry bank before taking a deep, calming breath. The tiny cove was filled with the soft scent of spring water and wet grass, and he could hear the distant roar of the many waterfalls nearby.
Shutting his eyes tightly, he dove into the cool water, his fingers digging into the mud beneath to keep himself submerged. The gentle current washed away the dried sweat and other fluids from his aching bones, carrying it away down one of the many cascades and into the abyss, leaving no trace of the whole, ugly affair. Papyrus tightened his hold, fighting the urge to just let himself float away with the trash, never to be seen again. A minute ticked by and his soul started to burn, starving for air. He fought against it, holding it in as long as he could before he couldn't anymore.
Papyrus broke the surface, gasping and sobbing.
With no reason to hold back, he didn’t. He fell apart at the seams, burying his face against the patch of land, crying long and hard. His shoulders shook with the force of his misery, hands tearing out blades of grass. The sound echoed loudly in the small chamber, but he didn’t care.
He didn’t care.
It hit him like a dead weight to the chest, the weight of his life falling apart.
He didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this.
Was it something he had said? Something he had done? Could this all have been avoided?
Why did he even try to talk to Grillby again?! At the same place, no less! What had been the point? He could have at least done it better! Reject the drink and tell Grillby off for his shameless behavior! Demand an apology! If anything, he could have told Undyne and then…
Instead he just…
What was the matter with him?
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Now Sans was caught up in this too. God, if he ever found out…if he saw the video…
Oh, god please. Please!
Sans was all he had. He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t.
He couldn’t go to anyone else now either. It wasn’t worth the risk.
It was all his fault.
Crying himself dry, Papyrus lay there miserably for several minutes before he finally pushed himself up. He leaned back against the nearest wall, drawing his knees back to his chest as he hugged them tightly.
He could still feel him. All the water in the world couldn't wash that detail away. Grillby’s magic mingled with his own, soiling him in the deepest level imaginable. His own magic was still recovering from the onslaught. Papyrus still didn’t know what Grillby had done to him. It was a sick and terrifying magic. Only the worst of the worst would have used it the way Grillby did. To think he thought the quiet bartender had been his friend…
Yes, that had been his very first mistake.
Papyrus didn’t have friends. How could he have forgotten? Just when he managed to convince himself otherwise, the Great Papyrus was reminded once again of what a joke he really was.
Grillby was Sans’ friend, not his. The bartender had said so himself, hadn’t he? If Sans were to learn about what Grillby had done…
Papyrus chewed absentmindedly at his fingertip. If he told his brother first, told him the truth about what happened, he’d believe him, right? Sans was always so supportive, so kind. He’d believe his own brother, even if he was shown the video, wouldn’t he? God, but the risk. He'd have to admit...everything...
But Papyrus didn’t know what else to do!
This was going too far. He couldn’t go through that again. He couldn’t.
What would Grillby do if Papyrus never showed up? Would he head straight to their house, banging on their door with the tape in hand?
But if Papyrus told Sans first…
Maybe that would go the other way around?
No! They were such close friends! How could Papyrus do that to them? Do that to Sans when he had been suffering so much already?
Papyrus bowed his head against his knees, water dripping down his arms. If only someone could just tell him what to do. If he could tell someone, even one person, then maybe this wouldn’t be so hard.
…He had to tell Sans.
Sans would know what to do. Even if it meant hurting him. Even if it meant tearing his brother's friendship with Grillby apart. Even if it ruined their relationship forever. He had no other choice.
Grillby had given him no other choice.
Papyrus took a deep breath and turned to reach for his clothes...only to freeze mid-turn when he found himself looking into the eyes of a familiar, grinning flower.
Flowey's giggles bounced off the cavern walls as water went everywhere. Papyrus struggled to cover himself as much as possible in spite of the pool's transparency.
“DON’T DO THAT!” Soul pounding in his chest, he turned his back, facing the wall. “FLOWEY, I’M SORRY BUT NOW IS NOT A GOOD TIME!”
“Oh, come on! I was just playing!" In the water's reflection beside him, Flowey winked and stuck out his tiny tongue. "This is a rather strange place to take a bath. You okay there, Papyrus?”
Resting his forehead and the palms of his hands against the cool stone wall, Papyrus breathed deeply to calm his quivering soul at the fright. How could he have forgotten about Flowey? Of course he would show up. He always showed up when he was alone. He forgot about the nicest flower in the whole Underground. What was the matter with him?
Flowey sounded a bit concerned, which was only natural. Papyrus wasn't acting like himself. He should turn around with a bright grin on his face and brush it all off like he had originally intended. But lying to Flowey...felt so wrong. The flower was his closest companion. How could he do that to him? He was his friend. His best friend. ...His only friend.
"Flowey...can you keep a secret?" His quiet voice broke slightly. This was risky. He knew it was, but it wasn't like anyone believed him when he told them about Flowey and the flower never showed himself to the other monsters anyway, especially his brother.
If there was anyone he could tell, it was Flowey.
He glanced over his shoulder and noticed the flower was watching him with a curious expression on his face. It was as gone as quickly as it arrived, replaced with his ever present smile.
"Of course, silly. You can tell me anything! I won't tell a soul!"
Papyrus swallowed the magic building at the back of his throat, wishing there could be an easier way to do this. He hated being the bearer of bad news. He wanted to make people happy, not
burden them with his own troubles. But if it had been the other way around, Papyrus would have gladly born it.
So...he told him.
I did not include Flowey in the tags for two reasons.
One, I thought it was neat little twist. :}
Two, for another fic I did, I had someone tell me they avoided the fic because I had NonCon and Flowey in the tags, and they assumed the noncon involved Flowey and that was something they actively avoided, though they didn't have any particular issue with NonCon by itself.
So I wanted to make it clear that Flowey will not have any sexual involvement in this fic. Not that I mind that sort of thing, it's just not going to be included in this fic in case anyone was worried about that. I'll add both Flowey and a tag explaining his non sexual involvement once I post the next chapter to keep it a surprise for those new to the story.
Flowey Is Not A Good Love Coach :}
Tags for this chapter: Mentions of NonCon, Angst, Flowey, Papyrus.
...I got nothing else, I apologize.
From my Tumblr:
It’s Sunday where I am, so it’s time to be an even BIGGER cock tease than last time! This chapter is about half the size of the others and again, no smut. But I hope you enjoy it regardless!
Next Sunday’s Update will be well worth the wait, I promise :}
The moment he arrived, Flowey knew something was very wrong with his favorite toy. For one, Papyrus snapped at him. Papyrus never snapped.
And while Papyrus had a tendency for eccentric behavior, late night bathing in Waterfall was a first.
This was new.
"Flowey...can you keep a secret?" Papyrus’ voice was so quiet Flowey could barely hear him.
It was the quietest he had ever heard him. He didn't even know Papyrus was capable of being that soft, that quiet…that sad.
It took him so off guard that Papyrus caught him staring.
"Of course, silly. You can tell me anything! I won't tell a soul!" Flowey chirped quickly.
Sometimes, he wondered if he was laying the jolly tone of voice a bit too thickly. It got harder to tell with each reset, harder to judge.
But Papyrus always gobbled this crud up, though this time he didn't seem any happier at Flowey's reassurance. Still, the idiot was convinced to blab easy enough.
Head bowed, refusing to look him in the eye, Papyrus told him his story.
Flowey wasn't sure what he expected.
Sure as hell not this.
It was difficult to keep the smile on his face. Then again, it probably wasn't appropriate under these circumstances anyway, but Flowey got the feeling that open disgust wasn't any better. He fought back the wave of almost-revulsion rising from his stem, instead forcing his face into some semblance of concern and sympathy. Flowey had no clue if he pulled it off. Good thing Papyrus wasn't looking.
He was too busy staring at the water, looking pathetic. After a moment, Papyrus started to cry.
Flowey couldn't really blame him. This was so messed up. Did that mean the water was contaminated now that Papyrus had bathed in it? Gross! What was the matter with people?! Adults were so sick! This was the first time he's ever heard of such a thing. This was...This was...
This was new.
This was interesting.
This was fascinating!
"Oh, Papyrus. There, there." He reached out with a vine, stroking his hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, though honestly he didn’t want to touch him at all. "It's going to be okay."
"How?" Papyrus said brokenly, raising his tear streaked face finally to look at him. He looked so utterly miserable, Flowey almost felt something stir in his empty body.
Also, that was a very good question. Flowey was a bit torn on what to do. True, Papyrus was his favorite toy and he wasn’t exactly thrilled about sharing. Not to mention what Grillby had done was absolutely disgusting. Flowey had no interest at all in participating. In fact, he almost wanted to let Grillby have the skeleton all to himself and stay out of this. Papyrus was all dirty now. Ew.
Flowey had never felt this close to feeling, to being normal since he woke up in Asgore's garden all those resets ago, when the last traces of his soul still lingered before fading away and leaving him empty.
He put on his best reassuring smile he could muster, fighting back the urge to laugh. "You're the Great Papyrus, remember? You can do anything. Even get through this."
That seemed to work. Papyrus sat a little bit straighter, sniffing and wiping his eye-sockets with the heel of his palm. "I just...I just don't know what to do, Flowey. Maybe...if I just tell Sans, he'll believe me and..."
If Papyrus told Smiley Trash-bag what happened, it would definitely be the end of Grillby and the end of all these brand new turn of events. Honestly, Flowey was a bit impressed Papyrus had the guts to consider spilling the beans to his brother. Too bad he couldn't let that happen.
This run was just getting started.
“Are you sure that’s such a good idea, Papyrus?” Flowey gently stroked the back of Papyrus' hand. “Didn’t you say that bartender and your brother were very close friends?”
Papyrus nodded miserably. “But he should know, shouldn’t he? Especially if it means an end to this... I mean…I don’t want him to know, I really don’t, but…”
“Then don’t tell him.”
Papyrus looked up, eyes wide with surprise.
Flowey thought quickly. How to get Papyrus to keep going? He wanted to see how far Grillby would go, how far before Papyrus finally snapped like a twig, either broken forever or...
This was a new, fascinating game where the outcome was completely unknown.
Flowey could almost feel something close to real excitement.
“Papyrus, I know it’s hard. But you can’t tell your brother. That’ll ruin everything. Your relationship will never be the same again and then he’ll start to resent you. Maybe not at first, but eventually. After all, doesn’t that tra-…Sans love that bar? And not just him. If you tell him, the whole town will know in no time and then that’s it! No more Grillby’s, the one distraction this otherwise bleak town has. Imagine how sad everyone would be if they lose it! Do you really want to be that selfish? Not to mention you can say goodbye to joining the Royal Guard with that scandal hanging over you.”
Flowey shook his head gently, giving Papyrus' hand a squeeze. “No. Telling anyone would ruin your life forever. Are you sure that’s really what you want?”
Tears started to run down Papyrus’ face again. “Then what do I do, Flowey? My life is already ruined!”
“No, it’s not.” Flowey raised his vine, wiping away his tears. “You’re the Great Papyrus. You can do this. What did you always say? Anyone can be great if they tried? If there’s a way for Grillby to repent and change his ways, I know you can find it. You said you went back to talk some sense into him, right? Just keep trying. I know you can do this. I believe in you.”
Papyrus hid his face against his knees, visibly shaking. Maybe Flowey was pushing it. After all, why would anyone willingly go through that sort of hell? Papyrus wasn't THAT dense. Ah well, it was worth a…
Flowey blinked, but quickly masked his surprise with a well practiced smile. “You’ll do it?”
Papyrus sniffed loudly, raising his head. He glanced up at the ceiling, as if trying to call forth strength from above. “If…If somehow I can…help him be better…then…then maybe…no one needs to get hurt.”
Except you, you stupid, stupid idiot.
Flowey’s smile grew. It wasn't even hard. “Good, good! You can do this Papyrus! I'm right here with you. Just go back, do what he says and…see what it is he wants. There has got to be some reason for what he’s doing. Maybe if you get to the bottom of this, you can save him! Save the whole town! You'll be a secret hero! Wow, you're so brave and cool. I'm so impressed!”
Papyrus nodded and turned to him, giving him the saddest smile he had ever seen since that one time his father learned the truth about who he was, and never before on Papyrus’ face.
Yet another first!
“Thank you, Flowey." Papyrus' voice was drenched in despair, but Flowey could still detect a hint of gratitude. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. But…I think I'd like to be alone now. ...Don't worry. I won't tell anyone if you don’t.”
His favorite never failed to surprise him with how much of an imbecile he was.
“Great! That's wonderful to hear! And no worries! If you ever need to talk, just call on me, okay?” Flowey patted his skull gently. “Remember! You’re the Great Papyrus! You can do this! You can do anything!”
Papyrus’s feeble smile grew an inch. “Nyeh, heh, heh. Of course…”
With that, Flowey slipped back into the ground so Papyrus could be a pathetic sack of sad by himself.
He nearly felt delighted! For the first time in a very long time, Flowey didn’t know what the future had in store for him and his favorite toy. He didn’t even have to do anything either! All he had to do was encourage the naive idiot. It was like turning the pin on a windup toy before letting it totter off to its inevitable, beautiful demise.
What kind of show did Grillby have in store for him?
Flowey couldn't wait to find out.
A tiny red light flickered on and off above Grillby’s emergency back exit, casting shadows that danced across the snow. Papyrus stared at the metal door, the unpleasant feeling of déjà vu tingling down the back of his spine. He shoved the feeling away, yet again trying to gather his courage in front of a closed door.
He tried, anyway.
He gripped the sides of the thick, gray sweat shirt he wore, feeling very small. He missed his battle body ready. The outfit made him feel so invincible, like he could do anything! He never wanted to take it off. Even so, Papyrus left it in the wash, thinking it had gotten soiled enough. He found the dingy pair of gray sweats at the bottom of Sans’ closet. They were a bit too short for him, but it covered his midsection and pelvis completely, which was what he wanted. He put them on after training with Undyne…
(”Paps, you okay? You seem a little out of it?”
(“What? Me? Pfft! I’m perfectly fine! Just…thinking hard about how passionately I’m going to smash these vegetables into submission!”
(“That’s the spirit! …Just don’t hurt yourself. You can’t destroy your opponent by thinking at them! You gotta get in there!!”
…and slipped away while Sans was out of the house. He took the back way in order to avoid running into his brother on the off chance Sans had been on his way to Grillby’s for an after-lunch-before-dinner break. The back exit was obscured by trees and an old dumpster, hiding him from view of the back windows of the surrounding houses. He had been careful not to be seen.
Leaning forward, Papyrus pressed his forehead against the cool surface, closing his eyes against the crimson light. His soul felt heavy, like a lead stone weighing him down.
The bright side. He had to focus on the bright side…
Getting home at the crack of dawn went more smoothly than expected. Opening the front door as quietly as possible, he had found his brother fast asleep on the couch, bathing in the glow of some rerun on the MTT network. Sans had looked so peaceful, drooling on the armrest, Papyrus hadn’t had the heart to wake him up.
Leaving him be, Papyrus had gone into the kitchen and started breakfast. His bath in Waterfall had done wonders for his strength and most of it had returned. His bones had still ached and trembled slightly, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t put up with.
Sans had woken up as the water started to boil, yawning and rubbing his eyes, still wearing yesterday’s clothes.
(”Where were you?”
(”Oh, um, well due to the…extraneous activities of the day, I decided to take a bath in Waterfall after training and lost track of time. You know me, the Great Papyrus is always busy! My apologies, brother. You shouldn’t have stayed up for me.”
(”…I was worried. Didn’t you want your bedtime story?”
(”It’s okay, Sans. Maybe tomorrow.”
(”…Is everything okay, bro?”
(”Of course! Everything is fine! Are you hungry? Breakfast will be done really soon! You should do something productive in the meantime! Like pick up that sock! And your room! Get to it, lazy bones!”)
Sans had seemed to have bought it, though there had been a hint of concern at the corners of his ever present grin. It wasn’t a lie per se. Papyrus had just…kept some details to himself. Every monster had some parts of their life that were private, especially Sans who never told anyone anything. It was only normal. And his brother always respected his privacy. It wasn’t lying…
…But it was.
Sans deserved the truth. Papyrus couldn’t keep deceiving him like this…and quite honestly, he didn’t want to. He hated this. He hated this so much.
Papyrus opened his eyes as he recalled Flowey’s warning. It was true. If he told, Sans wouldn’t let it go. Undyne wouldn’t let it go. No one would. Or at least Papyrus hoped they wouldn’t…hoped that they cared enough to…
Flowey was right. He was selfish.
But he didn’t want to hurt anyone! Not the monsters of Snowdin, not Sans, not even Grillby.
He just wanted him to stop…
Papyrus moved away from the door, staring straight at it.
If...if there was a way to save him…
Everyone deserved a second chance. Everyone could be great if they tried.
And if there was anyone who could help him be better, it was the Great Papyrus! Flowey was right about that too.
All he had to do was…endure it…for a bit…
He could do this. He could do this.
The Great Papyrus could do anything!
Papyrus squeezed the silver doorknob until a dull ache ran through his hand.
He opened the door and stepped inside.
"Like fire! Hellfire! This fire in my skin. This burning desire is turning me...to...sin!"
Tags for this chapter: NonCon/Rape, Papby (the BEST/WORST kind), Humiliation, Sexual Manipulation, Explicit Smut (Groping/Fondling + Fingering + Forced Heavy Kissing + Oral Sex + Penetration + Etc).
Finally! The smut I promised!
Seriously, this entire chapter is just very drawn out sex. I quite like how it came out and got good feedback to those I showed it to ahead of time. I am happy with it. :3
Special thanks to undertailsoulsex who graciously edited/beta'd this (and the previous two actually) chapter and did such a marvelous job, making my own so much easier. *hugs* Her own writing is definitely worth a look. I highly recommend all that she does.
I was listening to this song (Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame's HELLFIRE - Heavy Metal version) on repeat as I was doing the final passes and the mood and tone just fits it so well.
I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. :}
Grillby closed the bar an hour earlier than usual, locking the front doors and turning off the outdoor lights shortly after nine. Sans had been the last one to leave a few minutes before, wobbling on his feet as he disappeared down the path towards Waterfall. The shorter skeleton had seemed more distracted than usual, switching to hard liquor shortly after arriving a few hours ago. Like most of his regulars, Sans was a fan of his special Hotland brand fire whiskey. Despite drinking more than his fair share, Grillby hadn’t been able to get the skeleton to open up and share what was weighing heavily on his mind, Sans skillfully brushing him off each time.
If Papyrus had told, Grillby would have known by now.
Hell, Sans wouldn’t have shown up at all, or perhaps he would have at a much earlier hour in a vastly different and less friendly mood. Not that he was worried in the least. The drunkard had 1HP. What could he do? No, Grillby was more concerned that Papyrus might have turned to the Captain of the Royal Guard with his woes, but that didn’t seem to be the case either. His bar would have been reduced to cinders by now if that had been the case.
Instead, the dog brigade and the other regulars had shown up in their usual spirits like clockwork. Things had gotten a little out of hand when Sans, thoroughly wasted, had loosened up and had finally thrown the dogs an actual bone that he had pulled from the depths of his jacket. The following commotion had taken forever to die down, but it had also given Grillby the perfect excuse to close shop early to tidy up.
Grillby didn’t rush, he had the rest of the night after all, but he couldn’t stop thinking about his lovely new doll. He replayed the scenes of their latest rendezvous over and over again in his mind and on video. Once Papyrus had left that night, he had watched the recording countless times, pleasuring himself to exhaustion.
But it wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
He itched for the real thing.
No more tricks. No more confusion. Tonight, Papyrus would be his in every sense of the word.
Grillby could barely stand the wait and there had been a time where he couldn’t, acting recklessly and foolishly, taking what he wanted, whenever he wanted it. It had been his own undoing and nearly ruined him.
But not now.
This time he was in absolute control. He wouldn’t repeat his past mistakes.
Dispelling the last of his cleaning fire-sprites with a snap of his fingers and taking a moment to appreciate the silence, Grillby headed upstairs. It had been too loud during the day to hear if the back door had been used, but he had faith that Papyrus had followed his explicit instructions.
If he knew what was good for him, anyway.
Grillby was patient, but he was not one to be defied.
After checking that the emergency door at the end of the hallway was closed and locked, he returned to his bedroom door and let himself inside.
A smile spread on his face as his eyes landed on Papyrus sitting on the edge of his bed, exactly in the same spot he had been early that morning. The young skeleton jumped slightly when Grillby appeared, eye-lights constricting with fear before he turned his head away. He stared hard at a spot on the floor, knees firmly pressed together. Papyrus wasn't wearing the revealing costume Grillby loved so much. Instead we wore some dingy gray sweatpants and a matching sweater. They didn’t even fit him, showing too much above the ankle and wrists. Not that he minded, but he preferred the much better view his so called “battle body” gave him. Papyrus had such a lovely fashion sense.
Grillby wasn’t about to let some unattractive wardrobe ruin his plans for the night. It wasn’t like his toy was going to be wearing it for very long anyway.
He closed and locked the bedroom door, quietly watching Papyrus. The young monster seemed paralyzed with fear, gripping the mattress on either side of his knees like a child awaiting their parent’s punishment for some naughty thing they had done.
Just pure, unadulterated fear.
It was beautiful.
Grillby silently watched him for a while, wondering if Papyrus would break under the tension. As he continued to stare, the skeleton squirmed a little in his seat. As time passed without anything happening, he seemed to relax somewhat.
“Grillby.” Papyrus voice was so small. He took a breath and tore his eyes away from the floor, staring at him with wavering determination in his bright eyes. “I…I’ll do as you say…for now. But…But I haven’t given up on you! You can stop this, I know you can. And you will. I know you will! I know it must be hard for you, that you…for some reason…can’t help but do these horrible things. B-but I can help! I can! …But only if you let me. Please, Grillby. Listen, we can—”
“…So tonight, Papyrus,” Grillby said, cutting him off as if he hadn't heard a single word. He ate the space between them in two steps, settling down next to him on the edge of the bed. Papyrus turned his head away, his body going rigid. “I want to give you a few lessons on several important things in order for this to work. Is that okay?”
Grillby shifted closer and Papyrus sat as straight as a board. He hadn’t even touched him yet and already he could see the flush on his plaything’s cheekbones, the sweat running down the side of his skull. Papyrus refused to look at him, eye-lights fixated on the wall in front of them. After a moment of what must have been some wise consideration, Papyrus gave up his argument and nodded stiffly.
“…Please stop me if you know any of this,” Grillby said softly. He wrapped an arm around Papyrus’ shoulders, resting lightly. His other hand slid up his thigh, rubbing circles against the fabric. “…I’m not here to condescend, only to…instruct.”
Again Papyrus nodded, not saying a word. It was very strange for him to be so quiet. It was very pleasant.
“…What has your brother told you about sex and your…intriguing sexual anatomy?”
Grillby was close enough to hear Papyrus swallow. Interesting. He didn’t know they needed to do that.
“Not much,” Papyrus said, voice very quiet.
”…I see. Then let me fill in the gaps.” Taking his hand from his lover’s thigh, Grillby hooked a finger under Papyrus’ chin and applied a gentle pressure. Papyrus tensed for a moment before allowing his face to be turned, meeting his gaze. The fear in his eyes softened a bit, but his shoulders were shaking.
“…Let’s start with kissing,” Grillby said, rubbing tiny circles against the gentle dip of the young monster’s lower jaw.
Papyrus swallowed again, his gaze darting between Grillby’s eyes and his mouth. His insecurity was palpable.
That wouldn’t do.
“…Close your eyes,” Grillby whispered, stroking his jawline. “It’s okay. Just a kiss.”
After one final moment of hesitation, Papyrus closed his eyes and leaned forward, kissing him. It was stiff and awkward. The skeleton’s teeth were cold, his magic withdrawn.
That also wouldn’t do.
Grillby slipped his hand behind Papyrus’ neck, firmly squeezing so he couldn’t pull away. With the same hand, he gently ran his thumb around the socket connecting Papyrus’ jaw.
“…Open your mouth,” Grillby breathed. “…Make a tongue.”
Papyrus shuddered in his warm arms, most likely recalling the last few times they’ve done this. Still, he obeyed. His teeth parted reluctantly, the tip of his summoned tongue peeking out.
“…Good boy,” Grillby said, a surge of lust running through him at the sight. “…This is called 'making out'.”
He closed his eyes and brought their open mouths together, pushing his warm tongue inside. He took it slowly this time, guiding Papyrus to reciprocate. Their tongues slid against each other, Papyrus making a soft sound at the contact. Grillby felt something wet fall against his hand and he wiped away the tear that must have rolled down his toy’s cheek, dissolving the liquid.
His other hand slipped under the collar of Papyrus’ sweater, fiery fingers lightly stroking his shoulder blades. Papyrus’ tongue began to shyly press back, moving with more confidence. Slowly, moment by moment, Papyrus melted into his arms, breathing through his nose as they remained locked together.
Grillby eventually broke the kiss, opening his eyes. Papyrus did the same, gaze a bit hazy as he panted, a soft glow spreading across his cheekbones.
“…See?” Grillby murmured, petting his face. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Papyrus glanced away, his blush deepening. Grillby kissed his cheek softly, which earned him a slight wince. Well, it was still early. He’d warm up to him eventually.
Papyrus immediately tensed up again, a slight panic on his face. Grillby let him go, allowing him to move freely, not saying a word. Under his silent gaze, Papyrus calmed down and laid back against the bed. He refused to look at him, alternately staring at the ceiling and the walls.
“…Don’t be afraid, Papyrus,” Grillby said gently. He grabbed the end of Papyrus’ sweatshirt and pushed it up to his collar bones, revealing his spine and ribcage. “…This will only feel good, I promise.”
Still staring at the ceiling, Papyrus nodded, swallowing again. Grillby straddled his toy’s waist, but didn’t apply any pressure. Not yet. He placed both hands on the young monster’s ribcage, his hot thumbs running up and down his sternum.
“…To make sure it feels good,” Grillby said softly, admiring Papyrus’ beautiful body. “…we have to make sure you’re nice and aroused. This is called foreplay. How much foreplay is needed, well…that depends on the monster.”
As he spoke, Grillby let his hands roam. He pushed more heat into his hands, his fingers sliding between each rib. Papyrus gasped and arched into it, turning his face away. Grillby watched his lover’s soul flutter under his chest, radiating a delicious mix of fear and pleasure. Grillby leaned down, unable to help himself. He licked along the center of his sternum, against the smooth, warm bone as Papyrus let out a delicious moan.
“G-Grillby…d-don’t…” Papyrus gasped. Glancing up, Grillby saw that he had his eyes sockets tightly shut, squirming under him. “P-please…”
“…Shhh. Just let go.”
Grillby wrapped his hand around Papyrus’ spine, squeezing firmly as he stroked. Papyrus cried out brokenly, gripping the sheets. There was a soft glow coming from under his pants, even as his knees were still pinned together. Grillby stayed there for a moment, running his hand up and down, digging his fingertips gently between each vertebrae, getting more cries out of his toy for his efforts. After a moment of this, he pulled his hands away to grab Papyrus’ waistband.
Papyrus finally looked down at him pleadingly, his chest heaving as Grillby pulled down his pants.
“Please…don’t…Grillby…I don’t…I can’t—”
“…Spread your legs,” Grillby said, giving him a sharp look.
Papyrus flinched, his protests dying in his metaphorical throat as he grit his teeth. Slowly, almost excruciatingly so, he inched his knees apart, turning his blushing face away. He was visibly shaking, the bones rattling softly. Grillby managed to get his pants off the rest of the way, taking Papyrus’ sneakers along with them and setting them aside on the floor.
Papyrus’ magic had already begun to gather at his pelvis, though it hadn’t formed anything cohesive. The edges of his pubis, sacrum and ischium glowed, pulsing with heat. Grillby knelt on the floor, breathing in Papyrus’ sweet, musky aroma.
“…You’re so beautiful,” Grillby whispered, running his fingers along the pubis. Papyrus twitched, but didn’t draw back, a muffled cry issuing past his teeth.
He was doing so well.
Grillby looked up at him. “…It looks like we have to get you a bit more aroused.”
Sliding his fingers along the bone, he rubbed gently. Papyrus’ hips jerked, but it was clear he was doing his best to remain as still and silent as possible, even as soft sounds pushed past his clenched teeth.
“…Just relax. Close your eyes if you need to. Soon, you’ll be able to do this without me having to touch you.”
Grillby fondled him gently before he couldn’t resist again. He leaned closer, running his tongue against the skeleton’s pubis, pushing against that small sensitive area. More magic rushed forth at the stimulation, the bone softly vibrating against his tongue.
Papyrus gasped sharply, hips twitching. “Oh…ah… G...Grillby…”
“…Be a good boy and relax, Papyrus,” Grillby muttered, mouth still pressed against his pubic bone. It didn’t take long after that. Within moments, the area directly below his tongue was filled with the young monster’s magic, filling the empty space with a glistening opening.
“…That’s it. Perfect.” Grillby rubbed his thigh. “Sit up. I want you to see this.”
Papyrus reluctantly pushed himself up on his elbows, his face a deep crimson as he did as he was told, looking down at himself.
Grillby stood, watching him. “…Do you know what this is?” he asked softly, bringing his warm fingers to the moist mound, trailing along its edges.
Papyrus gasped and shook his head, tears gathering at the edges of his sockets.
“…This is your cunt. Also, called a pussy,” Grillby explained, stroking between his folds with his heated fingers, making Papyrus choke. “So tell me. What is this?”
Papyrus’ face flushed completely as he looked at him, eyes begging for mercy. “Grillby please…”
“…Say it, Papyrus.”
Papyrus flinched. “It’s…”
“…It’s your cunt. Your pussy. Say it.”
“It’s…It’s my cunt. My…my pussy,” Papyrus whispered, staring down at his chest.
“…Good. And this...”
Papyrus cried out sharply, falling onto his back as Grillby rubbed a flaming thumb against his toy’s sensitive nub. "...is your clitoris. 'Clit' for short. It’s really sensitive. Your sweet spot.”
He rolled his thumb in a slow circle to demonstrate. Papyrus shivered and moaned, spreading his legs as his hips bucked off the bed against his hand. “Grillby…god…please…”
Grillby stopped, taking his hand away and Papyrus collapsed against the bed, panting. He let him catch his breath for a moment before he grabbed Papyrus’ femurs, spreading them apart and bending them back.
Papyrus panted, blinking at him in confusion. Grillby held him with a patient stare until the young monster finally reached for his own legs, holding them in place.
“…Keep them there until I say. Understood?” he said, staring him in the eye. “It’ll go very badly for you if you let go. Nod if you understand me.”
Fear flared in Papyrus’ hazy eyes and the trembling in his hands seemed to ease as he tightened his grip.
“…Good boy. You’re doing so well.”
Grillby brought his hand back to his toy’s hot, tight opening and pushed two fingers inside. He watched as Papyrus’ eyes widened, his mouth open in a silent cry. Still, he kept hold of his legs, his entire body tensing up against the intrusion.
“…It’s going to hurt if you don’t relax.” Grillby paused, not wanting to hurt him when he was being so good for him.
Papyrus grit his teeth, but obeyed, relaxing with a soft exhale. Grillby continued, pushing his warm fingers the rest of the way, brushing against his inner translucent walls. Papyrus whimpered.
“…This is called fingering,” Grillby explained as he pumped his fingers in and out of the dripping cunt. Papyrus was slick and tight for him, his inner walls clenching around his invading fingers on reflex. “A bit uncreative, I know, but very accurate. …So tell me. What am I doing to you?”
Papyrus’ cheekbones glowed a deeply as he made soft, repressed sounds. Grillby could see his fingertips dig into his femurs.
“I…you…you’re f-fingering…me…” he answered softly.
“…Good. So good…”
Grillby kept moving his fingers, Papyrus’ juices sliding down his pelvis, staining the sheets. “…We have to prepare you. Make sure you’re nice and wet for me so I can go inside easily. How are you feeling? Feels good, right?”
Papyrus turned his face away, a few more tears running down his face.
He was catching on quickly.
Kneeling back down on the floor, Grillby pulled out his fingers and used them instead to spread him open, admiring how wet he was before leaning in, licking up his juices. Above him, Papyrus gasped sharply, arching his spine.
“…This one is also obvious,” he commented between licks. “We call this…oral sex. You like it, don’t you? You like it when my tongue’s inside you?”
Papyrus didn’t answer, letting out a low whine. Grillby got the impression he was close to tears again. He pinched his clit between his thumb and forefinger, raising his flames’ heat. Papyrus yelped, hips jerking wildly.
“STOP! IT HURTS!”
Grillby let it go, rubbing soothing circles against his toy’s abused nub. “…Then tell me.”
“Y-yes…I…I like it…I…like it…”
“…You want it?”
Papyrus whimpered above him, sobbing softly. “Yes…yes, I…I want your tongue…I want your tongue inside me…”
“…Good boy. Such a fast learner,” Grillby said before plunging his tongue inside him, lapping up his juices as he groaned.
Papyrus tightened around him and cried out softly as he pushed more heat into the appendage. He kept rubbing his clit, deciding to finally reward him for such amazing behavior. Papyrus tensed up, his moans drowning out his sobs. Grillby groaned himself, burying his face against Papyrus’ hot mound, plunging his tongue to the back of his pelvic wall, his toy’s magic wrapping around him tightly, sending tingles of pleasure down his throat. His own body burned with lust, his cock aching for a turn.
Papyrus came with a broken cry, his legs slipping from his grasp, his body convulsing. Grillby drank the rush of magic and fluids, enjoying how delicious he tasted, both sweet and sour. He pulled back once Papyrus went limp, sprawled across the bed.
“…And that was an orgasm.” Grillby stood, wiping his chin. “Or cumming. I made you cum. Next time, I want you to tell me when you’re cumming, alright?”
Papyrus blinked blearily up at him, panting. He nodded faintly.
“…So what happened?”
“Y...You…you made me cum.”
Grillby smirked. “Exactly.”
He began to undress, unbuttoning his vest, as Papyrus gathered the rest of his wits, watching him with apparent confusion.
“…Take that shirt off,” Grillby said as the young monster’s eyes filled with dread. “…Foreplay is over.”
How long before Grillby was satisfied?
Papyrus couldn’t even begin to gather the will to protest, his body still recovering. With quivering fingers, he pulled off his shirt and hugged his knees to his naked chest. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Grillby stripped down to nothing, setting his glasses on the bedside table. The bartender wrapped a hand around his member, stroking idly as he knelt on the bed, burning white eyes watching his every move.
“…I’m sure you remember this part…”
Papyrus looked away, tightening his grip around his knees. "G-Grillby, please…I don’t…Isn’t this enough?”
Once again, Grillby ignored him. He reached out and grabbed his wrist, yanking it from his legs and pulling it towards his own waist.
“…This,” Grillby said, his voice deep and husky as he forced Papyrus’ hand to wrap around him. Warm flames licked his fingers, the thick shaft swelling in his grip. “…is my cock. Do you remember how good it felt? Being touched here?”
Papyrus’ face burned as he stared at the sheets. How could he ever forget? But it had only felt good because he thought it had been Sans who had been touching him. …Or at least that’s what he wanted to believe. Grillby’s lessons were proving otherwise, much to his dismay.
Grillby moved Papyrus’ hand, making him stroke his length. Papyrus let him and when the bartender released his hand, he kept going, afraid what would happen if he didn’t.
“…That’s it,” Grillby whispered, petting his skull. “Such a good boy.”
Papyrus burned with shame at the repetitive, condescending pet name. He finally pulled his hand away, gathering his courage as he looked him in the eye.
“Please. Let’s stop. It’s not too late. We can still stop. Please, Grillby—ah!”
Grillby grabbed his ankle, pulling his leg straight and throwing him back onto the bed. Papyrus barely had time to react as Grillby climbed on top of him, spreading his legs apart.
“N-No! Please! Don’t!” Papyrus pushed feebly against Grillby’s broad chest, his palms burning against his flaming body. “Please! You don’t have to do this! We can stop! We can…AH!!”
“…What was that?” Grillby growled as he thrust inside, pinning his arms above his head. “…You were saying something?”
Papyrus grit his teeth, shutting his eyes. “...S-Stop…it hurts…”
“…Because you’re fighting me. I told you, Papyrus. I don’t want to hurt you.” Grillby nuzzled his neck, rolling his hips so he pushed in further. “…Here, I’ll give you a moment to correct yourself.”
Grillby stopped, breathing down his neck as he kept him pinned down. Papyrus gasped, squirming fruitlessly under his hold. He finally gave in, going limp against the mattress. Grillby was in so deep, radiating a throbbing heat that spread across his pelvis to the rest of his body. Gradually, the pain ebbed away, his walls wrapping around Grillby’s hot, invasive cock like a tight glove.
Papyrus whimpered, crying out softly.
God, this was…too much…
“…That’s it,” Grillby panted, kissing his jaw. “…That’s it. My sweet baby boy. You feel so good…”
He began to move, rocking his hips. A moan ripped from Papyrus’ mouth against his will. He shut his eyes as Grillby moved in and out, the friction sending a hot, twisting pleasure up his spine.
“G-Grillby…oh, please…” Tears ran down his cheeks, failing to hold them back.
This wasn’t fair. This shouldn’t be like this. This shouldn’t feel this way.
“…I know it feels really good, but it’s nothing to cry about,” Grillby groaned, thrusting into him slow and steady, almost lazily. “…This…is the missionary position. The most…standard sex position. Ah, fuck… This is also referred to as…fucking. I’m fucking you, Papyrus …Say it. Say it, Papyrus.”
Papyrus whimpered, half groaning, half sobbing. “Y-you’re…you’re f-fucking me…you’re fucking me…”
“…Good.” Grillby kissed him hard, before he pulled away in every sense of the word, leaving him cold.
Dazed, Papyrus prayed that he was done, that it was over, even as his body ached for more.
He barely had time to take in a full breath when Grillby grabbed him by the hips and flipped him over onto his chest. He cried out sharply, arching his spine as Grillby shoved inside again, pulling on his waist. He began moving right away, rocking in and out, fiery fingertips digging into the sides of his pelvis. Their parts slapped together, the sound echoing in the dark room as he picked up the pace.
“...And this…” Grillby groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. “…is doggy style. I know it’s a…a bit crude…but it’s…one of my favorites. It feels…amazing. I’m in so deep… Don’t you...agree?”
Papyrus clung to the pillow, completely at Grillby’s mercy. He was right. Grillby managed to thrust even deeper, his cock brushing against the middle of his spine, his magic barely able to contain him. Papyrus cried out loudly, overwhelmed by the terrible pleasure. Grillby was in so deep, so hot.
It was too much.
“S-Stop! Please! I can’t! I can’t!”
Grillby thrust once more, burying deep inside, and stopped. They both were panting, catching their breath.
“…Hmmm. Okay…Let’s try…a more intimate position.”
Still inside, Grillby shifted so they laid on their sides, the bartender’s fiery chest flush against his spine and sending waves of heat throughout his entire body. Grillby lifted Papyrus’ top leg as he began to move again, rocking in an out of his slick entrance from behind. Papyrus groaned as Grillby kissed the side of his neck.
“...This…well,” the bartender said, pressing close. “…We can call this spooning with a twist. God, Papyrus. ...You feel amazing.”
Papyrus threw his arm over his eyes as Grillby fucked him. The bartender was gentler this time, sliding in and out easily as his thighs were drenched with his own fluids.
God, it felt…it felt…
It felt so good. Heavens above, it felt so, so good…
Papyrus started to sob in earnest against his arm, even as he quivered and gasped, even as his walls clenched and tightened around Grillby’s cock, sucking it in.
He was so pathetic.
How was he to get Grillby to stop, to do better, when it felt this good?
“…Don’t cry,” Grillby murmured lovingly. “Come here. It’s okay.”
Reaching with his other arm, Grillby brought his face around for a kiss. Papyrus didn’t even think to refuse, mouth open, kissing back, even as more tears ran down his face, even as he sobbed and moaned against his lover’s mouth.
Grillby continued to thrust into him, but Papyrus kept his hips as still as possible.
He couldn’t encourage him.
Yes, he was kissing him back. Yes, he was so slick that Grillby’s cock pumped in and out of him, faster and faster, without a hint of resistance. Yes, he was crying out wordlessly for more, the pleasure rising and building, twisting hot and tight at his very core.
Yes, it felt so damn good.
But he didn't push into it.
He wanted to. Oh, god, he wanted to push into that hard, throbbing heat…but he didn’t.
The orgasm that ripped through him was like nothing he’d ever experienced before in his life.
Grillby impaled him to the hilt with a loud groan, shuddering against his back as he filled him up, hot and wet, spilling down his thighs. Papyrus locked around him, squeezing him for every drop as he shook long after Grillby was done, crying out against his mouth.
After what felt like hours, he collapsed into his arms, drained and utterly sated.
Groaning softy, Papyrus succumbed to the sleep he had never needed before, fading so fast he almost didn’t catch Grillby’s last words as the warm bartender kissed his forehead.
“…You’re mine now.”
Goodnight. Sweet dreams. :}
Tags for this chapter:NonCon Groping, Papby (the worst kind), Humiliation, Sexual Manipulation, Angst.
Hello, lovely sinners!
The results of my Tumblr poll are in and it looks like I'll be posting shorter chapters more often (or that's the plan). I am confident that I can get the next chapter done by Sunday as I already have a good chunk of it written.
I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did with it. <3
”…Where are you going?”
Grillby turned his head towards Papyrus, who had silently sat up in bed. His young lover froze, radiating a palpable fear.
“You w-were asleep,” Papyrus whispered. “I thought I’d…”
God, he was so beautiful like this.
“…You need permission to leave, Papyrus,” Grillby said calmly, brushing the very tips of his fingers along his spine. Papyrus shivered faintly, but didn’t move from his touch. “I thought I made that obvious. …Also are you sure you want to go home looking like that?”
Even prone, Grillby spotted the mess he had left all over and inside Papyrus’ pelvis, his molten cum glowing faintly in the dark.
Papyrus visibly trembled. “I-I…”
Despite his whole body wincing, Papyrus obeyed. He avoided eye contact, a faint blush spreading across his cheekbones as he returned to his side. Grillby sat up and wrapped his arms around his frail shoulders, kissing his warm cheek.
“…Don’t be afraid. It doesn’t always have to be about sex between us, you know,” he breathed. He squeezed Papyrus briefly, before shifting him so he sat between his legs, pulling his back against his chest.
Grillby ran his hands down the skeleton’s upper arms, then across his ribs, caressing his sternum. “…Here. Let me show you my trick.”
Keeping his touch feather light, Grillby poured heat into his hands until Papyrus gasped. The young monster grabbed Grillby’s arms feebly, more a bracing gesture than one of resistance.
“…Shhh,” Grillby whispered, nuzzling the side of his skull. “…Trust me.”
He dragged the palm of his hand against the front of his spine and Papyrus let out a strained sigh, turning his head away. His rib-cage heaved with each ragged breath his soul took, leaning back against Grillby’s chest. Grillby continued as he reached the pelvis, sliding inside. As his hand made contact with their combined cum, he raised the heat even further and the substance sizzled and evaporated, leaving Papyrus’ sacrum unstained. Grillby then lowered the temperature again before he burned the bone underneath and allowed his hand to roam the rest of his toy’s pelvis, raising and lowering his magic as needed. Papyrus did his best to keep still as Grillby thoroughly cleaned him. He didn’t quite manage, Papyrus’ breathing becoming more and more uneven as faint whines and moans slipped past clenched teeth.
The sound made Grillby itch for more. He couldn’t help it.
Despite his words about it not being about sex, he played a bit. His other hand, still at Papyrus’ chest, fingered his ribs gently as Papyrus’ soul throbbed a conflicting mix of fear, disgust and pleasure.
After Papyrus’ pelvis was pristine once again, Grillby began rubbing slow circles against his pubis. Papyrus moaned softly, his thighs inching apart as if on their own. Intrigued, Grillby brought both hands down to his femurs, running them up and down, disintegrating any dirt or dried substances that lingered there.
“…By the way…”
Done, Grillby wrapped his heated hands around the bones, stroking them as he squeezed. “…Earlier, you came without telling me.”
Papyrus tensed against his body, but didn’t say a word.
“…I remember very clearly that I told you that you needed to tell me when you’re about to cum. Didn’t I?”
A small whimper escaped Papyrus’ clenched teeth as his shoulders hunched together as if bracing for a blow. Grillby tightened his hold on his toy’s thigh bones, raising the heat to the brink of pain, but keeping it there.
Papyrus cried out brokenly, fingers digging into Grillby’s forearms. “G-Grillby…please…I…I’m sorry…”
“…Well, you are still learning.” Grillby relaxed his grip, petting him gently along his inner thighs before bringing his fingers back to his toy’s pubis, stroking lightly and earning him a small, choked moan from his pet. “…I’ll let it go just this once. But next time, you will behave perfectly. I expect nothing less from the Great Papyrus.”
Papyrus swallowed and nodded shakily. It was obvious by the way his chest was heaving that he was trying his best not to cry.
He was doing so well.
“…Yes, you will…what?”
Papyrus took a shaky breath. “Yes, I will…I will tell you when I c-c-cum.”
Papyrus froze, his soul pulsing with confusion. “Wha-?”
“…Call me,” Grillby growled against his skull. “…Master.” He closed a tight fist around Papyrus’ already glowing pubic bone and the young monster bucked against his hold, practically screaming.
“YES, M-MASTER! YES! YES, I WILL! PLEASE S-STOP!”
Grillby let him go and Papyrus slumped against his chest, panting heavily. The amusing part was that he hadn’t even hurt him. One glance told him that Papyrus was on the brink of making a pussy for him again, the area throbbing visibly with repressed arousal.
But it would be a greater shame to get him all dirty again after Grillby took the time and care to thoroughly clean him. He had said it wasn’t all about sex, after all. He didn’t want to be called a liar, now did he?
“…Such a good boy.”
Grillby gently tilted his toy’s face towards him, kissing him deeply. Papyrus was being so good, opening his mouth and summoning his tongue without hesitation. True, his tongue just sat there as Grillby pressed and fondled against it with his own, indulging in how he tasted. He decided to overlook it this one time, happy with Papyrus’ performance otherwise. He gently stroked the back of his skull with one hand while lightly running the other along the edges of his iliac crest in a comforting gesture. Papyrus’ breathing evened out, his bones still warm from all the attention.
God, Grillby wanted nothing more than to devour him again.
No. He needed to be patient. It would be much better not to rush things.
Grillby was in control. Not it.
He pulled his hands away and leaned back on his arms as he looked over his beloved toy with a smile. “…You can go now.”
Papyrus didn’t hesitate to leave, though did so carefully as if afraid Grillby would change his mind if he moved too fast or too clumsily. Grillby watched him get dressed, noticing how the young monster still avoided all eye contact. Neither of them said anything until Papyrus was at the door.
The skeleton froze, hand wrapped around the doorknob. After a few breaths, he turned to face him. Papyrus’ expression was pained, eye-lights flickering in the dark room. There was something else in them that Grillby didn’t recognize. Something that made him shiver.
“…Give Sans my regards. …Goodnight.”
All color drained from Papyrus’ once flushed face, fear washing over his despair. He nodded stiffly.
“G…Goodnight,” he murmured, only audible in the dead silence of the room. He then waited till Grillby nodded back before opening the door and slipping out.
Grillby listened to his footsteps down the hallway and then the distant click of the back exit opening and closing.
He laid back against his bed with a sigh, closing his eyes as he recalled the last few hours. He wrapped a hand around himself, stroking idly as his mind filled with Papryus’ moans, the warmth of his trembling bones, how he tightened around his cock…
He missed him already.
Sans hadn’t waited up for him this time, the living room dark and silent. Papyrus wondered if his brother was even home.
It wasn’t that late.
Not as late as the last few nights.
Papyrus winced at the memory, hugging himself. He could still feel Grillby’s magic on him. The fire of his hands skimming over his thighs, his pelvis and everywhere else. Honestly, Papyrus figured it was just an excuse for Grillby to touch him some more. The bartender had been surprisingly gentle besides that one moment at the end, his touch light and almost loving for the most part.
It made him sick.
Papyrus knew he should have used the time to persuade him to do better, but he didn’t have the strength, nor the courage. He had been so terrified of angering Grillby and enticing him to dirty him again. It had been getting late.
Sans would have worried again.
Or maybe not, since Sans wasn’t even home.
Apparently, there was no need to hurry after all. It was a good thing.
Papyrus swallowed a knot of conflicting emotions and went for a shower anyway. Despite Grillby’s care, he still felt dirty.
On his way to the bathroom, he briefly checked Sans’ room only to have his suspicions confirmed. It was empty. His brother really wasn’t home. But then where was he? Papyrus tried not to think too much about it.
One thing at a time.
He dumped his clothes in the laundry after he briefly considered throwing them away. It wasn’t like Sans was going to wear them anytime soon, which was good since the thought of that made him ill, even if they were relatively unsoiled. But no, that was too obvious. Papyrus had to be smart about this. He always did consider himself very bright. Maybe not as smart as his brother, but still. He was confident he could keep him in the dark about this.
It wouldn’t be the first time. He didn’t even feel guilty, since it was for Sans’ benefit. Besides, his brother kept more than his share of secrets himself.
Maybe deceit ran in the family.
Once in the shower, Papyrus turned the handle completely to the left. The icy water against his tender bones felt like life itself on tap. He shut his eye sockets against the spray, wanting every lingering ounce of heat from Grillby’s magic gone. He didn’t care that it left him shivering. It felt good. It felt bad. It felt right.
This was only a temporary set-back. He wasn’t going to lose to Grilby. He wasn’t.
God, there was going to be a next time.
The realization crashed into him like an unforgiving use of blue magic, dragging him to his knees. He fell apart, sobbing into his hands as he pressed against the shower wall.
He didn’t want a next time.
He didn’t want this at all!
How was he supposed to help Grillby when all he wanted was for it all to stop?!
It wasn’t fair…
A knock on the door made him jump.
Papyrus stopped crying immediately. “Sans?! Is…Is that you?”
“Yeah. Sorry I’m back so late. …You okay?”
Papyrus got back to his feet, scrubbing his sockets with the heels of his palms. “OF COURSE! WHY DO YOU ASK?!”
“I just thought I heard… You know what, nevermind. Sorry, bro.”
Even through the door, Papyrus could tell his brother had been drinking. It was less the way his voice sounded and more the words he used. Like “sorry” when there was no reason for it. Sans said sorry too often when he was drunk or sobering up. Papyrus never had any idea what he was apologizing for. He had a suspicion it wasn’t for the drinking itself, but rather the drinking was a symptom of feeling sorry.
“IT’S FINE! I’LL BE OUT SOON, BROTHER.” He figured Sans wanted the shower and if he had been out all night after Grillby’s had closed, he’d probably need one.
“Oh. …Okay.” There was a shuffling just outside the door. “Um. Oh yeah, Paps. Did you…still want your bedtime story?”
Papyrus grit his teeth. The smell of the soap he used suddenly making his nonexistent stomach turn. “NOT…TONIGHT. I’M QUITE TIRED.”
There was a long pause and he almost thought Sans had fallen asleep on his feet mid conversation. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
“You sure, bro? That’s two nights in a row now…”
It was true. Honestly, it made Papyrus’ soul ache with the loss. Oh, how he missed those safe, tender moments with Sans, snuggled against his brother as he read one of his favorite books that always ended with a happily ever after. As a child, the routine had been the only way for Papyrus to settle down for the night, and to this day it helped his constantly busy mind to slow down and shut off for a while. He still had trouble sleeping without it.
However, tonight he didn’t trust himself not to fall apart in Sans’ arms mid-story.
“I’M QUITE SURE, SANS. TOMORROW NIGHT, MOST DEFINITELY.” Sometimes Papyrus wondered if Sans needed them as much as he did. “I PROMISE.”
Papyrus stayed still and silent under the shower, waiting for Sans to leave. For a few minutes there was only the sound of the running shower. He was almost tempted to call out to him again, but didn’t want to give away that he was waiting on him. Was something wrong?
Had he messed up already?
Finally, Sans spoke again, barely audible through the door and over the running water.
“I…I’m sorry, bro. …Goodnight.”
Papyrus frowned as he listened to his brother’s shuffling down the hallway to his bedroom. Sans wasn’t okay and Papyrus had no idea what was bothering him. His soul twisted with anxiety as he finished his shower without shedding any more tears. He had to be strong for the both of them.
Drying off and getting dressed in a clean pair of pajamas, Papyrus left the bathroom and headed to his bedroom. He paused at Sans’ door, raising his hand to knock and let him know the shower was free to use. A noise stopped him. It was the familiar sound of his brother in quiet distress, caught up in another nightmare. Sans must have gone straight to bed after saying goodnight. Instinctively, Papyrus reached for the doorknob…and held it.
His hand was trembling, his bones rattling faintly against the metal.
He didn’t turn it.
Seconds ticked by, noted by the clock that hung on the wall downstairs. Sans’ muffled groans and the ruffling of his sheets filtered through the door and yet, Papyrus didn’t move.
Slowly, by increments, he retracted his hand and turned down the hall. He continued to his bedroom without stopping, locking the door behind him.
Once in bed, he stared unseeing at the wall.
Bonding time for all!
Tags for this chapter: NonCon/Rape, Papby (the BEST/WORST kind), Humiliation, Sexual Manipulation, Explicit Smut (Fingering + Oral Sex + Penetration).
Hello, darling sinners!
Please excuse the lateness and quality of this chapter. It's a bit longer than I had planned and it took longer to get done. At the end, I just wanted it out already, so if I missed any errors or if it reads a little less clear than usual, I apologize.
Still, I hope you enjoy these next series of events :}
Papyrus stopped mid stir, staring at the oatmeal as it started to boil.
“GOOD MORNING, BROTHER!” he answered cheerfully without turning around. He continued stirring to keep the oatmeal from sticking to the bottom of the pot.
It had been a while since he’d made this. After all, this brand wasn’t exactly lining all the shelves at Snowdin's shop, it being an item from the surface. He only managed to secure a small stash, picking up a box whenever he came across one at the dump. Papyrus would even forget his tiny stockpile even existed for months at a time, so busy with cooking spaghetti and other meals. It was when he was feeling especially low, did he remember the comforting treat tucked away in the back of his closet.
“Um. Morning. …Bro, is everything alright?”
Papyrus really wished Sans stopped asking that.
“OF COURSE! THERE’S FRESHLY BREWED COFFEE SITTING ON THE COUNTER IF YOU’D LIKE. THERE'S SOME TOAST TOO. I HOPE YOU’RE IN THE MOOD FOR OATMEAL, CAUSE I SURE AM!"
Papyrus knew his brother must have a hell of a hangover. He always did after drinking all night. Usually, Papyrus would nag him about it, but honestly he was a little thankful. It was a good distraction.
Not like he needed one, of course. No, he was fine.
Nothing could phase the Great Papyrus after all.
True, he barely slept, but that was okay. He managed to rest for the most part and still had energy to spare. Who needed sleep, anyway? Such a waste of time. Papyrus only needed to keep himself busy. Not to mention, taking care of Sans now gave Papyrus the perfect opportunity to make up for not being there for him last night.
Papyrus chanced a glance over his shoulder at his brother. Sans was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday and his trademark jacket was in dire need of a wash. Papyrus made a mental note to grab it for laundry before they both left for work.
God, Sans looked so tired…and worried.
Papyrus’ soul twisted a little with anxiety, hoping whatever was bothering Sans had nothing to do with him.
His brother reached for the overhead cabinet, standing on the tips of his sock-covered feet.
“Um. You’ve been staying out really late these past few days…” Sans’ jacket slipped off one of his shoulders as he grabbed a mug, exposing more of his neck and some of his clavicle. “I know I for one can’t talk, but it’s not like you.”
He turned towards the coffee maker, pouring steaming black coffee into the chipped cup. Sans hadn’t looked up yet, tired eye-lights fixed on what he was doing. “It’s fine if you started a new routine. I’d just like to be in the know, y’know?”
God, Papyrus never noticed before, but Sans was really nice to look at.
Even now, tired and disheveled, his carefree smile made Papyrus’ soul race. The whole world could go up flames and Sans would still manage to grin like it was no big deal. Usually his brother’s laid back attitude would grate on his nerves, but right now it was a sight for sore eyes. He watched as Sans poured sugar into his coffee with those small delicate hands Papyrus rarely got to see without gloves. Smooth, white phalanges wrapped around the cup, bringing it to his wide mouth.
The sleeves of his jacket were disgusting. He definitely was going to ask him for his clothes to wash. Maybe even convince him to buy new ones. Dress him up a bit.
In his mind’s eye, Papyrus imagined Sans shrugging out of his jacket and slowly pulling off his stained shirt, revealing rib after rib, his warm soul glowing faintly behind his sternum. His brother's beautiful hands would then fall past his curved spine towards his shorts, tugging them down to reveal his hip bones and then…
Sans raised his head, eye-lights meeting his. “Bro?”
Papyrus blushed. “I-OW!”
Scolding hot oatmeal boiled over the pot and onto his hands. The all too familiar burning pain nearly made him throw the pot against the wall. Instead, he jumped back from the stove, cradling his hands to his chest.
Sans was there immediately, shutting off the heat and grabbing a dishtowel.
“Are you okay?!” he asked, voice sharp with concern. He wrapped Papyrus' fingers with the towel, wiping away the still too hot oatmeal
“I…I’m fine,” Papyrus muttered, more rattled than he should have been.
Sans was watching him closely, his always present grin now a straight line. “Paps, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just…got distracted is all.” Papyrus couldn’t look him in the eye, his face still warm. He pulled his hands free, taking the towel with him to wipe away the rest of the mess. “Thank you. I’m fine! Really!”
Papyrus turned away, throwing the rag into the sink. He stared down at it, vaguely remembering how he wanted to increase the storage space beneath the dish tub. Now might be a good time. God knows he could use a distracting side project right now.
Papyrus could feel Sans watching him, but he chose to act like he didn't.
Pretend everything was great and exactly how he dreamed his life to be. It had worked wonders for him thus far. This should be no different.
Stirring the remaining oatmeal, he scraped off as much as he could of the bit that had burned to the pot and poured it into two bowls. He sprinkled the tiny dinosaur eggs on top so they can be freed as you stirred. He finally turned towards Sans to hand him his breakfast, unable to avoid him any longer.
His brother was still staring at him, the edges of his permanent grin slack, his brow-bone narrowed in concern.
“Have you been hanging out with that flower lately?” he asked as he took the bowl, searching his face.
Papyrus blinked. “Huh? Flowey? Why are you asking? It’s not like you actually believe me when I say he's real.”
Sans mercifully turned away then, heading towards the table. He set the bowl down and went to retrieve his coffee from the counter. There was obvious tension in his shoulders as he drummed his fingertips against his mug.
“I’m curious. And don’t say that. I believe you.”
Papyrus didn’t buy that for one second. Like Undyne, Sans thought Flowey was just his imaginary friend and was only pretending to be nice. Or at least that had been his brother’s first reaction when he told him of his new best friend. Sans did seem a bit more convinced now.
Papyrus walked over to the table, setting down his breakfast. Well, at least he didn’t need to lie about Flowey, but he didn’t like what Sans was insinuating.
“Yes, I have," he said honestly. "But he has nothing to do with…”
“So there IS something wrong!” Sans said, cutting him off.
A loud crack split the air as Papyrus slammed both hands against the table, making their bowls wobble dangerously.
“I DIDN’T SAY THAT! YOU DON'T LISTEN! YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME, SANS! I SAID I’M FINE!!”
Sans’ eye-lights shrunk to pinpricks, sitting straight up in his chair and staring at Papyrus like he was missing his skull.
“W-whoa! Bro, I…I didn’t mean it like that…”
Papyrus sat heavily into his chair, glaring at his meal. He picked up his spoon and played with the hot cereal a bit, watching the little colorful dinosaurs pop out of their melting shells. Honestly, he didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He just wanted to focus on his breakfast and be happy.
Why couldn’t Sans just drop it?
His free hand rested on the table across from his brother as he kept playing with his oatmeal, losing some of his appetite.
Sans’ voice was so soft and filled with remorse that Papyrus forgave him instantly and simultaneously hated himself for snapping in the first place.
“I’m sorry," Sans said. "I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just…worried about you. ”
His brother reached out, placing a hand over his, bone against bone, and Papryus’ soul throbbed.
“You’re my baby bro and I—”
Without thinking, Papyrus yanked his hand free, wrapping his fingers around his bowl as he cut him off.
“I’m fine, Sans," he said, trying to get things back to normal. "You don’t need to worry about someone as great and powerful as me, the Great Papyrus! You should focus more on yourself, brother. Okay?”
He expected Sans to argue with him. Even Papyrus had to admit he wasn’t doing a very excellent job showing he was “fine.” But he was determined to remedy that.
Papyrus lifted his head to look his brother in the eye, ready to defend himself. He froze at the look on Sans’ face.
Something flickered across the lights of his eyes before they vanished altogether, leaving his face blank and cold. It lasted a fraction of a second before his eye-lights returned like nothing had happened. No, even further than that. Like the last few minutes in which Papyrus had burned himself and then snapped hadn’t happened at all.
Sans turned to his breakfast, the edges of his grin pulling up as if by some external force.
“You’re right. Sorry, bro. I’ve been kinda a nuisance lately, haven’t I?”
Papyrus’ brow came together in a frown as he watched Sans completely withdraw within himself. He hadn't seen this expression on his brother very often. Only right after a particularly bad nightmare did he act like this.
Papyrus didn’t much care for it.
“Sans. No. True, you get on my nerves sometimes, but it’s okay,” Papyrus said helplessly, his soul tight with anxiety. “I’m sorry I snapped. That wasn’t very Great of me. I’ve just…been working really hard lately! Even more than usual. But don’t worry. It’s nothing I can't handle. After all, I can handle anything! So...trust me, okay?”
The tension around Sans’ grin eased a bit, but there was something about the way he slouched forward that still worried him.
“Sure thing, Paps.” Sans winked at him, then threw his coffee and oatmeal into his mouth, making Papyrus squirm at the disgusting and obviously intentional display. His brother wiped his teeth across the back of his sleeve and stood from the table. “That was great! Thanks for making breakfast! I’m gonna head out now. Catch ya later, bro.”
Confused, Papyrus was about to ask why he was leaving so early, but he was too late. His brother vanished with a small pop of displaced air, not even bothering to clean up. Papyrus sighed heavily. Even more evidence that his brother wasn't okay and he had no idea what to do about it.
He didn’t even get a chance to grab his jacket to wash.
That singular trifling thought reminded him of his earlier daydream that had been the cause of this awful morning. Papyrus gripped his bowl tightly, staring at his suddenly unappetizing breakfast.
Standing up from the table, he dumped it into the trash.
"I'm…I'm c-cumming," Papyrus gasped, face hot with shame.
His hands fisted the sheets as Grillby slammed into him repeatedly from behind. A fiery grip pressed against the back of his neck, shoving his face against the mattress. The pleasure spun hot and tight, surging towards its peak.
"I-I’m…c-cumming, Grill…” Even under these circumstances, he managed to catch his mistake and quickly corrected himself, bitter humiliation in each syllable. “M-master……I…I’m—!”
He choked on a cry as his second orgasm in a row ripped through him. Body convulsing, Papyrus grunted and yelped with each new thrust. Grillby didn’t stop, pounding into his oversensitive body. Papyrus' legs buckled from the assault that had no end in sight.
"…Good,” Grillby said with a groan, though seemed no closer to his own climax. “...Good! That's it. ...You're learning so quickly."
Tears ran freely down Papyrus’ face. God, when will it end?
“P-please…s-stop…I…I’m begging you! P-please!”
Grillby’s cock drove deep inside him once more, then stilled, its throbbing heat pulsing at his very core.
“…Hmmm.” The bartender hummed thoughtfully, drumming his heated fingers against Papyrus’ tender hipbone. “…Yes, you’re right. It’s clear you’re now competent at this position.”
He pulled out and Papyrus let his elbows supporting his weight collapse. Laying flat against the bed, he panted, catching his breath.
His reprieve didn’t last for very long.
Grillby grabbed his shoulder and pulled. Papyrus slid off the mattress, sinking to his knees on Grillby’s bedroom floor, quivering bones slick with sweat.
He was completely naked, having been stripped bare the moment he stepped inside some time ago, while Grillby only felt the need to unzip his black pants.
Papyrus squinted as Grillby’s far too bright hand caressed his jawline. Gripping it tightly, he turned his face. Papyrus blinked at the glowing cock now shoved in his direction.
“…Do I need to explain this part to you?” the bartender asked. He tilted Papyrus' chin up, making him look him in the eye as he stroked his jawbone. “…Or can you figure it out on your own?”
Papyrus swallowed, staring into those fiery white eyes behind his glasses, finding no mercy in them. Grillby almost seemed bored, though his body and soul gave away his excitement, radiating a palpable lust. Grillby’s hand slipped from his jaw, drifting to the top of his skull, stroking lightly.
Papyrus' eye-lights lowered to rest upon the head of Grillby’s cock, a drop of molten pre-cum falling to the floor between his knees. His soul churned as he realized what Grillby wanted him to do.
Papyrus wasn’t stupid.
...But he did act oblivious on purpose sometimes.
It was the secret to his Greatness! True, he’d admit - only to himself, of course - that some things did actually confuse him. But not everything. And honestly, if it bought him some time, all the better.
“Ah. W-well, I’m sure I can,” he said, still catching his breath. Smile trembling at the edges, Papyrus looked back up into Grillby’s face. “But y-you know. M-maybe we can do something else. Like read a book. Or watch Mettaton on T.V.! Or maybe just take a very, long nap. True, I’m not one to encourage laziness, but you know I think if you were to just lay down quietly, you—”
Papyrus cut himself off, hissing with pain. The heat of Grillby’s hand had been steadily rising as he spoke, hot fingertips burning into the back of his skull. It was too much to ignore.
“O-Okay! Ow! S-stop!”
“…Let me ask you again,” Grillby said, lowering the intensity of his flames. His voice was soft and calm despite the simmering anger steaming off his body. “…Do you need me to tell you what to do? Or can you figure it out on your own? Do not make me repeat myself again.”
Shaking, Papyrus glanced away, gathering his failing courage. It was like trying to cup dry sand in his hands.
Not wanting to risk further punishment, Papyrus stared at Grillby’s cock head on. It was quite a sight, if he were honest with himself. Thick and slightly curved, the glow of its glistening length shifted continuously like the rivers of magma in Hotland. It would have been memorizing if fear hadn’t sharpened his focus to a point that ended on that moist, dripping head.
Tentatively, Papyrus opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. It looked too hot to touch. He licked timidly, afraid of being burned.
“…It’s not going to hurt you,” Grillby murmured, voice hinting with amusement. “…Go on. Lick all of it.”
Papyrus shut his eyes tightly as he ran his tongue along the shaft. He tasted himself, Grillby’s cock still wet with his cum. It was strange that some part of a fire monster could retain some moisture, but this part was different from the rest of him. Solid with concentrated magic, it pressed against his tongue firmly, twitching at the contact. Papyrus did his best to ignore Grillby’s musky, sulfuric scent and the sweet, tangy taste of his own juices.
“…Good boy,” Grillby groaned. “…That’s it. Clean it up.”
Papyrus whimpered, but obeyed. What else could he do? He ran his tongue over every bump and curve, before sliding up to the head, tasting the pre-cum gathered there. He shuddered at its bitterness.
“…Good. Now. …Open.”
Keeping his eyes closed, Papyrus swallowed and opened his mouth. He knew what Grillby wanted, letting his tongue lie flat and heavy at the bottom of his mouth. A soft magical passage lined the inside of his cheeks, creating a translucent throat that ran down against his spine.
Grillby surprised him by not shoving it in. Instead, he placed it on his tongue and rolled his hips, dragging it across his taste buds slowly. Papyrus shivered.
“…Very good," Grillby said with a moan. "Now, take a breath.”
There was nothing else to do. Papyrus took a breath.
At the end of his inhale, Grillby thrust forward, plunging his length completely down his throat. Papyrus grabbed at the bartender’s waist with a distressed sound. He didn’t dare to try to shove him back, simply clinging to the fabric of his clothes, needing something to hold on to.
“…There, there. Relax and…swallow.” Grillby moaned softly, rocking in and out of his mouth.
Eye sockets tightly shut, Papyrus did the best he could, the walls of his throat tightening up around Grillby’s thrusting heat. It burned in more ways than one. He started to feel dizzy. Maybe he was going to pass out. God, he wished he did.
Grillby pulled on his skull, burying himself deep down his throat once more before he finally came with a shudder. Papyrus didn’t expect it so soon, gagging and clawing at his waist.
“…Swallow,” Grillby growled, voice thick with pleasure and a vicious threat Papyrus knew he’d carry out at the slightest hint of disobedience.
As if Papyrus had a say in the matter.
Grillby’s molten cum ran down his throat unhindered, burning and tingling all over as his magic absorbed it. For long agonizing moments, Papyrus couldn’t breathe, Grillby latching onto his skull, keeping him locked around his twitching cock.
Then it was over.
Once spent, Grillby stepped back and Papyrus fell to his hands and knees, a wet, hacking sob tearing through him. He thought he’d be sick all over the hardwood floor, but the nausea eased without anything coming up other than spittle and drops of cum as he continued to cough.
Above him, he heard the zip of Grillby fixing his pants and his footsteps as he walked back to the bed. Papyrus raised his tear streaked face towards him.
His tormentor was lighting a cigarette, taking a deep drag, eyes fixed on him.
“…I think you may need a bit more practice with that particular lesson,” he said casually. “...You did good. But I feel like you can do even better.”
Papyrus shivered, wrapping his arms around his chest. His soul fluttered weakly. How could someone be so horrible? And why Grillby of all people?
Finding resolve he didn’t know he had, Papyrus crawled over to sit on the floor, his back pressed against the bed frame. He watched the trails of smoke float in the air.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked quietly, barely audible.
His soul raced with fear, not entirely confident that this was the smartest idea. But…
He had to try.
Papyrus glanced up when his question was only met with silence. Grillby was looking down at him, meeting his gaze with cold, calculating eyes. Papyrus shivered, bringing his knees to his chest, but he refused to look away.
“Why? I…I thought we were friends…”
Grillby stared at him silently, blowing out a long stream of smoke. The faintest of smiles tugged at his mouth, barely noticeable under all the fire that made up his face.
“…I wanted to be more than friends.”
Papyrus tore his eyes away, unable to hold Grillby's penetrating stare. “You…could have asked. It didn’t…have to be this way.”
“…Papyrus. Don’t hurt yourself with these kinds of thoughts. None of that matters now. And besides. This isn’t so bad.” Grillby paused as he took another drag. “…You’ll start to enjoy sucking cock soon enough. And the sex is wonderful, don’t deny it. This is a good thing, Papyrus. Don’t ruin it.”
Papyrus narrowed his eyes at the floor. “If you really cared about me, you’d…you’d listen to me. You’d…you’d stop. You’d destroy the tape and let me go. I…I wouldn’t even tell anyone. Why would I? I’d…I’d forgive you too…in time…if you just…”
His words trailed off as Grillby began to laugh.
“…Oh, Papyrus. Never, ever change.” There was a pause and Papyrus heard him snuff the cigarette into the ash stray on the bedside table. “…And give me a chance. I’m not a bad guy.”
Papyrus flinched as Grillby reached down, running his fingers along his skull. He turned away from his touch, shuddering.
“You’re the worst,” he murmured quietly under his breath, surprising even himself.
He still believed there was good in everyone. Even now, he knew Grillby was correct. He wasn’t a bad guy. Not…not completely, anyway.
Still…Papyrus couldn’t deny his feelings.
He hated this.
He hated all of this.
The silence that followed his words sent a chill down his spine. He didn’t dare look up to see Grillby’s expression. His bones tensed up, going rigid as the silence lengthened. It shattered with the sound of Grillby’s shoes tapping on the floor as he got to his feet.
“…Alright. Let's try this again.”
Papyrus winced hard, but then a sudden resignation washed the over him in the form of a very heavy sigh. He didn’t even wait for Grillby to give the order. He moved to his knees and sat on his heels, his soul heavy.
He waited till Grillby walked in front of him before he looked up. Grillby was watching him, a curious expression in his eyes as if there was something on Papyrus’ face that confused him. It was only for a moment. The bartender's hand was in his pocket, the other playing with his fly.
“…Close your eyes.”
Papyrus took a shuddering breath to brace himself and did so.
“…Open your mouth.”
He let his jaw fall open, a faint tremble in his bones despite all his bravado. Papyrus waited anxiously for the sound of Grillby opening his fly and for that hot, bitter heat to be forced into his mouth again.
Something was thrown into his mouth, but it wasn't what he expected.
It was small and round.
Like a pill.
His eye-sockets shot open, but before he could spit it out, Grillby slapped a hand over his mouth, closing and keeping it shut. Papyrus struggled, clawing at his wrist as he rose to his feet. Grillby shoved him back and Papyrus lost his balance, falling against the bed. The bartender pinned him down, face inches from his own.
Papyrus whimpered and stopped struggling.
It tasted like chalk.
“…Good boy,” Grillby said, letting him go.
Papyrus immediately sat up, rubbing his neck as his soul flared with panic. "What was that?! Was it-?!"
"...No. This one takes a bit longer to kick in." Grillby had the gall to smirk at him. “…A little something to help you with your homework.”
Papyrus stared at him like he had gone insane. "What?!"
“…Your homework. Tonight, I want you to masturbate. Like this." Grillby grabbed his hand and brought it between his femurs, running slow circles along his pubis. Papyrus gasped, Grillby’s heat bleeding through his fingers. “…I want you to think about me. Fantasize about me. Touching you.”
Papyrus looked away, his face burning as Grillby continued to roll both sets of fingers against his most sensitive area. A pussy formed too quickly, too easily, his magic starting to react on cue like a trained dog to the call of its owner. Grillby brushed his clit. He cried out at the spike of pleasure, shuddering under Grillby’s rough hand.
“…Like this,” Grillby breathed. “…And like this.”
He pushed Papyrus’ index and middle digits past his folds, slick walls clenching on reflex. Papyrus moaned as Grillby made him finger himself, sliding his fingers in and out.
"…Until you cum...thinking of me."
Papyrus kept his hips pinned to the mattress, gritting his teeth against needy whines. Red, hot shame rolled over his body in waves. He turned his face away, shutting his eyes.
Then all at once, it stopped.
Papyrus dared to look as Grillby pulled away, leaving him aching.
"…But not now." The bartender stood and licked his drenched fingers clean. “…Tomorrow morning, since you’re so insistent on changing the time of our meeting, you'll give me a demonstration."
There were a few seconds of hesitation before Papyrus pulled his fingers free from his still throbbing pelvis, tears building at the corners of his sockets. He faced away from Grillby, but listened to his every word.
“…I'll be able to tell if you did it or not. And you don't want to show up without doing your homework, Papyrus. Is that clear?"
“Y-yes,” Papyrus whispered softly, wiping his tears before they fell. He had humiliated himself enough already.
“…Yes?” Grillby repeated, a warning's edge to his voice.
Papyrus winced. “Yes, Master.”
Grillby leaned down and kissed his cheek. “…Now go get dressed. Didn’t you say something about needing to be home by ten?”
Papyrus' spine went rigid. It felt like his soul had been plunged into ice.
A chalky taste lingered on his tongue.
Grillby placed a hand between his shoulder blades, pressing his mouth against the side of his skull. “…You don't want Sans to worry, do you?”
The itch claims another victim.
Nothing will be the same.
Tags for this chapter: Dubcon, Papby (Mentioned), Fontcest/Incest, Somnophilia, Drugged Heat (Aphrodisiac), Sexual Daydreaming, Angst, Explicit Smut (Masturbation + Fingering + Oral Sex + Penetration), Sexual Exhaustion, Multiple Orgasms.
It started right as he was getting ready for bed.
Of course it did.
Anything less would be far too kind for Papyrus in his current state of affairs. Perhaps that was the reason. Maybe all of this was merely a test sent from heaven to test and fortify his innate greatness! …Maybe greatness could actually be a curse. He didn’t like the idea at all and quickly buried it. He had far more pressing matters at hand.
Honestly, Papyrus was immensely grateful that his terrible luck still allowed him to get into his pajamas and slip under his bedsheets before Sans came in and spotted his obvious symptoms. The multiple layers of fabric from his clothes and blankets managed to cover most of it. The only downside was now all the heat was trapped inside, a light sweat covering his entire body.
Still, he focused on the positive. Sans went unaware. That’s all that mattered.
Even better, Sans didn’t sit in bed with him as per usual. His brother brought in a chair from the kitchen, sitting opposite of him beside the bed rather than shoulder to shoulder against the pillow. It was the first time he ever did such a thing since they’d started this particular bedtime ritual. While the change was welcome, it was also a bit concerning. If it had been any other night, Papyrus would have been wildly offended by the act. Tonight, however, he was immensely relieved.
He didn’t know why Sans decided he needed the distance, but a feeling in his nonexistent gut told him it must have had something to do with their terrible morning.
Papyrus didn’t have the energy nor desire to get to the bottom of Sans’ feelings. As long as his brother was oblivious to his current…condition, Papyrus would consider the night a raging success.
“So, the usual?” Sans asked, holding up the weathered copy Peek-a-Boo with Fluffy Bunny, the earliest book Papyrus could remember Sans reading to him. A classic.
The thought of listening to his beloved childhood story while suffering a throbbing erection was absolutely horrifying, but he had no choice. He couldn’t deny Sans this. Besides, putting it off yet again with no solid excuse would be too suspicious. No, he just had to deal with it.
Papyrus nodded, grinning as he pulled his comforter up to his chin. “Yes, please!”
Thank god he had always liked to cover himself with several blankets when he slept. True, he currently wanted nothing more than to strip bare and take the longest, coldest shower imaginable. But on other nights when he wasn’t drugged, he enjoyed the feel of his blankets, the warmth of his brother’s clothed shoulder pressed against his own.
But not tonight, of course. So, it was a good thing he had these blankets.
A good thing.
He felt a little dizzy trying to focus on the positives in a situation that was nothing but hellish in nature. Either that or he was overheating. It didn’t matter. He just had to bare it. The story was short. He could do this. He could do anything!
Sans climbed onto the chair and peeled open the worn book. As he began to read, Papyrus found it impossible to hold on to a single word he said, his pelvis throbbing with a pulsing heat. It was like Grillby was in the bed with him, hands on his pelvis, his chest, his spine, caressing with too much heat.
Papyrus forced himself to breathe calmly and not pant. He tried to focus on something else and latched onto the sight of his brother, head bowed over the book.
It backfired in the worst way possible.
He found himself staring at Sans in a way no sibling ever should. God, Sans. How did he never notice before? Hunched over, he looked so small in his over sized jacket. Papyrus could wrap his arms around him and pull him close like a life-sized doll. Knowing his brother, he wouldn’t even protest either. He’d just go limp and maybe nuzzle against his neck before drifting to sleep.
Sans had forgotten to put on his gloves today, his white fingertips turning the pages, his eye-lights roaming the text as he continue to grin in that careless way. If there had been anything bothering him, enough to get him to bring a chair tonight to put some space between them, it didn’t show. Papyrus’ gaze shifted to the little bit of neck peeking between the collar of his shirt and the soft lining of his jacket. Papyrus wanted to press his tongue against that top vertebrae, then maybe close his mouth around it and lightly bite down. He wanted to hear what kind of sound Sans would make at such a gesture. How would he taste? How would he feel? Flushed and surprised, but delighted, staring at him needily and…
Papyrus’ gaze shot up from his brother’s neck to his eyes and a furious blush rose to his cheekbones. He pulled the blankets even higher to hide it. “Um. Yes, brother?”
Sans’ mouth flattened out again as he lowered the book. “I finished."
“Oh! Good! It was so good!”
“You didn’t say anything,” Sans said, eye-sockets narrowed. “What happened to your usual commentary?”
“Oh. Uh.” How was Papyrus supposed to concentrate on Fluffy Bunny when all he wanted to do was wrap his hand around himself while Sans watched and… He gripped his comforter tightly. “Oh. That went by much quicker than I expected! I-I guess I got so caught up in the story! Imagining it—”
“You didn’t hear a single word I said, did you?” Sans cut in, clearly frustrated and hurt.
“What?!” Papyrus tried to sound as offended as possible. “How absurd! I heard every word. I can even recite each one if you don’t believe me!”
Sans sighed heavily. “Of course you can, Paps. I’ve read this story to you over a hundred times. Of course you know it by heart.”
“Oh.” Papyrus searched wildly for a solution, forcing himself to be still and not squirm. “Well, maybe a new book is in order then!”
“Maybe.” Sans hopped off his chair, setting the book down on it. “…Or maybe we’re getting too old for this.”
“Nonsense! You just want to slack off from your brotherly duties!” Even as he said it, Papyrus wondered if maybe it was time to end this routine too. At least for a little while. He didn’t want to say goodbye to it forever, not yet anyway. But right now it was more trouble than it was worth.
“Heh. Maybe.” Sans sighed again, looking exhausted. “I guess…it’s goodnight then.”
This was usually when Sans went to hug him and tuck him in. When his brother made no move to come any closer, Papyrus was too relieved to be upset about it, even as his soul twisted at the thought that maybe, just maybe…Sans didn’t like him anymore? Nonsense.
It didn’t even matter. The sooner his brother left the room, the better.
“Goodnight, Sans. S-Sleep well.”
Papyrus prayed that Sans would leave and he could finally get rid of these suffocating layers.
But he didn’t.
Sans was staring at his face, confusion and concern in his expression. “Bro…You feeling alright?” He edged closer and Papyrus’ soul began to pound. “Your cheeks are really red. And you’re sweating. For a skeleton sitting in bed, that’s kinda alarming. Are you sick?”
He reached towards his damp forehead and Papyrus flinched away on reflex. He regretted it immediately.
Sans yanked his hand back and the expression that crossed his face broke Papyrus’ heart.
He’d seen his brother look sad and worried before. He’d even seen him look utterly despondent after a really rough night. But this… He’s never seen Sans look so completely lost before.
He looked scared.
His hands went back into their pockets as turned to face the wall, taking a step back.
Papyrus hated this. “A-Actually, now that you mention it, it is a bit warm in here. Do you mind cracking open the window real quick before you go?”
The space between Sans’ eye-sockets wrinkled a bit for a moment, but after brief delay, he headed towards the window without another word. He unlocked it and pushed it open an inch, letting in a cold breeze. Papyrus felt the insane urge to jump out of bed, dash across the room and sit in front of it, desperate to cool off. He shoved it away.
“Thank you, brother.”
Sans nodded, still not looking at him. “Sure. No prob. If-if you’re not feeling well, let me know, okay? I can make soup or somethin.” He winced at seemingly the sound of his own words and turned away. “Alright, I’m tired. Good night, bro.”
“…Good night, Sans.”
Appearing utterly dejected, Sans walked out. Papyrus didn’t know what to say to make it better. A strong, aching part of him wanted to call out and tell him to stay. He wanted Sans to help him, to save him, to hug him and tell him it was going to be alright because they were in this together. Papyrus missed him so much…
But he couldn’t. This was his burden. His problem. Putting it on Sans was just selfish. It wouldn’t be doing Sans any favors or helping him with his mood. It would only make things so much worse.
The door closed with a click and Papyrus was finally left alone.
It was going to be a very, very long night.
It was no use. Papyrus wasn't sure how long he lay there after Sans had left. He never had bothered to get a clock for his room. It could have been anywhere from half an hour to three hours. He laid there, the blankets hanging off the side of the bed. Papyrus had thrown off the sweltering comforter the moment Sans left and had been tempted to shed his clothes too, but managed to resist. He wouldn't give in to Grillby's orders, keeping his hands off himself and fisting the sheets instead. His clothes clung to his bones, sweat soaking them through. The initial comfort of the open breeze from the window was quickly consumed by the raging furnace of his own soul. It was worse than Grillby's infuriating touch. The maddening heat seeped out from his very marrow, his own body betraying him yet again. There seemed no end to it. It was getting harder and harder to think clearly.
He itched for something, anything, to douse this intense primal need he barely understood. A need he didn’t even know he was capable of until Grillby showed him, like pulling up a mirror to reveal the dirty section of his soul. How could a mere acquaintance bring out a side of him he never even knew existed? Papyrus loathed that part the most. This was his desire, his lust. Grillby wasn't even there. It was only him and his own disgusting thoughts. It was too much.
Papyrus stared down at his heaving chest where his soul glowed painfully bright, bleeding through the drenched fabric of his shirt. His pelvis was in a similar state, his pants straining against his aching erection. The barest shift in his position caused the fabric to brush against the over sensitive tip, making him gasp. He nearly sobbed. It hurt. It hurt.
His hands moved to his hip bones, dragging his palms along the edges as he groaned. How much longer was this going to go on? He remembered Grillby’s instructions, his “homework", and he wondered if it could actually help. Maybe at least take the edge off.
He shuddered with disgust at the mere thought of giving in to the despicable command. If he did, what would be next? What else would Grillby get him to do? It would only get worse from here. A small part of him also didn’t want to give the bartender the satisfaction. He didn’t want him to win. Papyrus didn't want him.
Still, this wasn’t something he could just ignore until it went away. He had to…do something.
Papyrus peeled his pants off his pelvis and carefully pulled them down, freeing his cock with a relieved sigh.
He never really looked at himself before and he had no real frame of reference, other than Grillby, who he personally thought was too big. Or at least that was how it felt . So Papyrus wasn’t certain, but it seemed like his was nearly the same size and width. Maybe with less of a curve and with a more narrow tip. Briefly, he wondered if Sans would like it…
Papyrus shut his eyes against the thought, trying desperately not to think of him. It was the last thing he wanted. ...And the first.
Actually, it was the only thing he wanted.
His eyes still shut, he lightly ran his fingers over his own length, shuddering and whimpering at the shivers of pleasure it gave him. He wondered if Sans had ever done this. His brother obviously knew more about these things than he did and knowing his lazy nature, he must have. Too lazy to get out and find someone, he’d be satisfied with just himself, wouldn’t he? Sitting in his room, wrapping a hand around himself like this, imagining his cock was wrapped around by something else…
Papyrus moaned freely as he stroked his cock, rocking into his hand. He focused on that image of Sans, soul burning bright under his chest, panting and flustered as he masturbated for his brother’s pleasure. No, that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what Papyrus wanted to see. No…
The image changed and instead Sans had something else between his legs. Plump, dripping lips, spread out by Sans’ beautiful white fingers, revealing a slick entrance made just for him. Sans’ eyes were half-lidded, watching him, panting. “Bro, please. I-I need you…”
Papyrus groaned, the sight as pleasurable as his stroking hand. He brought the other under his shirt to fondle his ribs, rubbing between the gaps, sending rippling pleasure down his spine. It felt so good, but it wasn’t enough. His body was so used to someone else. He refused to admit that he wanted or needed Grillby’s touch. No, that wasn’t it. It didn’t have to be him. It just had to be…someone. His own hands weren’t enough. Tears burned in the corner of his sockets in his frustration. It wasn’t fair.
Papyrus opened them, staring at the door. He was making so much noise. What if Sans heard him…
Would he come in to see what was wrong? Return the kindness Papyrus had given him night after night? Sans was worried. Of course he would come in. And seeing him like this, what would he do?
“Bro? What…? Oh. That’s it? Is that what has been bothering you?”
Sans blushed, but walked over anyway, not making eye contact. He touched his thigh, his grin tilting up gently. “Let me…help you. Please, I’ve always wanted…”
That’s all he needed to hear. Papyrus grabbed him, pushed down his brother’s shorts and…and…
“Sans!” Papyrus came with his brother’s name on his breath, spine arching off the mattress, cum spilling over his fingers.
When he collapsed back against his bed, the usual pleasant buzz that came after an orgasm lasted mere seconds. His erection never died down and the heat soon returned, sending his bones on fire once again. The orgasm itself hadn’t been very fulfilling either. He’d had so much better these last few nights.
Papyrus bit back a frustrated groan. He stared at the door.
It was still tightly shut. Sans wasn’t coming. In fact, the entire house was silent save for the distant ticking of the living room clock. The one night he wanted Sans to have trouble sleeping, he slept like a rock.
Papyrus stared at the ceiling, his hand idly rubbing himself.
It wasn’t fair. Sans was so lazy, even if he did hear him, he probably wouldn’t come anyway. Why would he? It’s not like Papyrus ever needed comfort before. He was too strong and self-reliant for that. And maybe, Sans really didn’t care anymore.
His chest ached at that last thought. Papyrus didn’t need to think about it right now. Besides, Sans was very lucky to have someone like him for a brother. He really was. How ungrateful. Papyrus didn’t deserve to suffer like this. Sans didn’t deserve to suffer either. And he could make him feel so good too. So good. Why deny them both like this?
Papyrus’ hands stopped moving. His soul began to pound against his chest. He could hear it in his skull, his magic rushing through his bones, hot and eager.
It was true.
They didn’t need to suffer alone.
Papyrus wasn’t sure when he got out of bed. He couldn’t even recall the short walk down the hallway or opening the unlocked door. It was only a blur of sensation: the beating of his soul, the roar of his magic rushing down his spine and pelvis, the soft rattling of his trembling bones, the stickiness of his pajamas clinging to his frame.
All he knew was that he was now standing in his brother’s room, a foot away from his bed.
Beside his bare feet, Sans’ jacket rested on the floor next to the familiar pair pink slippers. Sans didn’t have a blanket or a set of sheets. He was laying on a dirty, bare mattress wearing only his white tank-top and his dark shorts, facing the wall and curled in as if he were cold.
He looked cold. He looked exhausted.
It was such a rare sight. Sans was asleep, breathing deeply, unperturbed, peaceful.
He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. This was…a very bad idea.
“let me show you…what the fuss is about.”
The last thing he wanted was to hear Grillby’s words again, the bartender’s voice buzzing inside his skull like irritating television static. Still, he wondered what Grillby meant by them? Did Sans have…sexual feelings for him? Is that why he ran away? Because he was too embarrassed to admit it? Then that would mean…
Papyrus stared at his brother’s sleeping form, aching at the mere sight of him.
Sans wouldn’t mind. He’d enjoy it, wouldn’t he? Papyrus would be giving him exactly what he always wanted. Right?
It was okay. It was...
Papyrus only had his best interests at heart. He wanted to make him feel good and take all his misery away for just one night. He could do that, couldn’t he?
Then why shouldn’t he? Why deny Sans what he must have fervently wanted for who knows how long? It almost felt wrong NOT to.
Sliding his fingers under the hem of Sans’ shirt, he gently stroked his brother’s bottom most ribs. Sans made the softest of noises. His bones were so cool under his warm hands. Maybe he was cold. Papyrus could help with that.
He carefully slid his hand under Sans’ shirt while pulling the fabric up with the other, holding his breath. Sans continued to sleep as each of his ribs were exposed. Papyrus couldn’t remember the last time he’s seen his brother’s bare chest before. He ran his fingers over them lightly and Sans sighed, shifting into his hands. Papyrus wrenched his gaze from his brother’s face to his sternum, now laid bare before his eyes. His soul’s light, his magic, was so weak, it was barely visible. No wonder he was able to sleep so soundly. No wonder he looked so exhausted lately.
Papyrus frowned, soul twisting with worry. No matter. He’ll fix it.
With a surge of deep affection, he leaned down, pressing his teeth against his brother’s chest, closing his eyes. His bones were so smooth, he couldn’t resist. He let his tongue slide past his teeth, running down the center of Sans’ ribcage, his fingers lightly caressing the individual ribs. Sans moaned and Papyrus glanced at his face, his soul racing at the sound. His brother didn’t wake, but a light flush spread across his face. Sans fell onto his back, his breathing picking up a bit as Papyrus brought his hand down to his brother’s spine, lightly trailing his fingertips.
God, it was better than any of his daydreams. Sans was so sensitive, his spine gently arching as he touched each vertebrae. Papyrus kept his gaze on his face, pulling his hand back whenever it seemed his brother was close to waking. He didn’t know how long he could keep this up without Sans discovering him, but he didn’t want to disturb him. The urgency of the moment made it easier to ignore his throbbing arousal, putting Sans first and foremost in his mind. Still, his hand drifted lower, sliding down against Sans’ sacrum. Papyrus wasn’t a brute like Grillby. He was gentle, brushing the very tips of his fingers around each hole, caressing him lovingly. He kissed his brother’s sternum again, closing his eyes and pouring all his desire into it. Sans breathing sped up a bit more, hips squirming under his touch, his hands opening and closing against the mattress.
“Ah…please,” he murmured.
Papyrus froze, glancing up again. Sans eyes were still closed, but now he seemed to be caught up in a dream.
His soul flickered, its glow brightening under his sternum. “…Please. I can’t…”
The sight tore at Papyrus’ soul. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, Sans. I promise , he thought as he reached for the hem of his brother’s shorts, sliding them down.
Oh. Wowie. Papyrus ran his tongue along his teeth as his eyes devoured Sans’ naked pelvis. His pubis and the sensitive points on his coccyx and ischium all glowed with building magic. It was becoming harder to hold back, harder to be patient. Papyrus trembled as he reached with both hands, pressing his thumbs along the rings connecting to Sans’ pubis symphysis, then the pubis itself, rubbing up and down gently. The area heated up at the friction, the magic below beginning to pool and take shape. Sans was panting, his mouth open as he moaned. He rolled his hips unconsciously and his pelvis grew hotter and hotter under Papyrus’ hands.
In moments, Sans’ throbbing cunt manifested and Papyrus let out a whine at the sight of it. It was better than any fantasy. He leaned down, taking in his brother’s husky scent and slowly spread him open with two fingers. He was so wet, the juices staining his fingers.
“…Oh, Sans,” Papyrus breathed.
Sans’ eyes started to open and Papyrus’ soul seized.
What if he was wrong? What if Sans didn’t want this? Didn’t want him? What if this had been a mistake?
What if…what if…
As his brother jolted awake, crying out in shock and surprise, Papyrus gripped Sans’ thighs tightly and pressed his tongue against his clit.
Sans cried out again, but it was a different sort of cry, a violent tremor running through his entire body. “F-fuck! Paps?! W-what?! Ah!”
Papyrus ignored him, sucking desperately at the sensitive nub, before running his tongue along the inner part of the glistening folds and over the tight opening. He had no practice with this, only what Grillby had done to him. It didn’t matter. Papyrus acted on pure lust, lapping him up and groaning at the taste, at his brother's overpowering scent. It made him dizzy, but in a good way. In a delicious way. God, he couldn’t get enough.
Sans was trembling badly, the strength in his bones melting away. Papyrus continued ravishing him, brushing his teeth against the throbbing clit, groaning against his brother’s flesh. He plunged his tongue inside, the tight passage clenching around him. Sans cried out, arching his back as his tongue squirmed against his brother's slick inner walls.
Papyrus could barely breathe.
It was heaven.
Sans couldn’t form a single comprehensible word. He gasped, panted and moaned, the sounds mingling with the wet sucking of Papyrus' tongue and the rattling of his brother's ribcage. Papyrus felt a hand against his skull, fingertips scraping against the bone as Sans choked on a scream, his hips jerking up hard against his mouth. His brother came violently, his walls locking around Papyrus’ tongue as a surge of juices filled his mouth. Papyrus swallowed and licked him clean, earning him more lovely sounds from his brother’s mouth.
When Sans slumped back against the bed, Papyrus raised his head, gazing down at what he had done. Sans was in a daze, his pelvis a wet mess, knees still spread apart. Papyrus licked his teeth clean, his brother's tart taste on his tongue.
The sight of his lazy bones brother like this...
God, he itched.
Sans raised his head feebly as Papyrus crawled on top of him, lifting his brother’s hips and keeping his thighs apart. Stroking the warm bones, Papyrus aligned them, pressing the tip of his cock past Sans' folds, holding his breath.
Head bent as he awkwardly positioned himself, Papyrus was half-startled when a hand grabbed his chest, fingers digging into his shirt, clinging to his ribs. He looked up and his gaze met with Sans’, his brother’s eye-lights quivering with shock. “P-Papyrus?”
Papyrus kissed him, pressing their teeth together as he closed his eyes. He pushed inside.
Oh. God. Sans was so tight. He almost didn’t think he’d fit. Sans gasped sharply, his spine arching so sharply it pressed their chests firmly together. Papyrus could feel the heat and throb of his brother's soul. He groaned softly into the kiss, rolling his hips forward, sinking deeper, inch by inch. A strained cry pressed against Sans’ grit teeth and Papyrus kissed the side of his skull.
“Shhh. Relax, Sans. I got you. I got you…”
Sans opened his mouth, releasing the broken cry he was holding. He clung to him as Papyrus hilted completely inside with a soft groan. His brother wrapped around him like a glove, the sensation nothing he’s ever felt before in his life. Papyrus waited a moment, overwhelmed by his own raging desire, his brother’s pounding soul beating so near his own, and the insane heat gripping his cock.
“Oh, G-God,” Sans groaned and Papyrus could feel him melt around him, the tightness easing to bearable levels. “P-Paps! I…I…”
Papyrus brought their mouths together again, tongue licking his brother’s teeth. He began to move, slowly pulling out before pushing back in, then repeating the motion, over and over, making his brother gasp each time. He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into Sans’ mouth and was so pleased when it was met with its counterpart, his brother’s tongue warm and inviting.
Papyrus moaned, closing his eyes as he focused on Sans mouth, on that slick appendage inside, rubbing against it with his own. Unconsciously his hips picked up speed, rocking into his brother’s heat with increasing intensity. Sans wrapped his arms tightly around his neck, fingers clawing at his shoulder blades. Papyrus shuddered at the light pain, adding a new dimension to the pleasure. He moved faster.
God, he wished they didn’t have their shirts on. He wanted to feel Sans bare ribs against his own, but he couldn’t stop long enough to remedy it. He kept thrusting, a stream of obscene noises issuing from his brother’s mouth, spurring him on. The room filled with those sounds - his brother’s broken voice, the creak of the mattress springs, the wet slap at the end of each thrust.
“Sans…Sans, I’m going to…I’m going to,” Papyrus breathed against his teeth, panting. “I’m…I’m going to cum…”
“F-fuck!!” Sans surprised him, going rigid as he came first, crying out obscenities. "Shit! Fuck!! Papyrus!"
The rippling tension around his cock was too much and Papyrus slammed into him once more as his own orgasm ripped through him, hot and blinding. They shuddered together, clinging desperately to anything within reach. Once it faded, Papyrus gently pulled out of him, watching as his own cum dribbled out of Sans’ swollen pussy, running down the length of his cock. He groaned at the sight.
It wasn't enough. He was still hard, still aching.
Wrapping his arms around Sans, he sat up, pulling his brother into his lap. Sans was panting against his shoulder, small hands sliding up the back of Papyrus’ neck to keep himself upright. Papyrus lifted him by his thighs, over his cock and seated him again with a deep grunt. Sans cried out, head thrown back as he arched his spine. He didn't say a word, trembling as he flexed and tightened around him. It felt amazing. Sans was so good this.
Papyrus tightened his hold on his brother's thighs as he repeated the motion, sliding Sans up and down on his cock and doing most of the work for his lazy brother. Sans whimpered as he was bounced, sinking deeper and deeper every time he was brought down. With his head thrown back, Papyrus had perfect access to his neck. He leaned in, dragging his teeth along the sensitive discs. With a gasp, Sans tilted his head even further, making more desperate, breathless sounds. Papyrus never stopped making him ride his cock. It became easier and easier. His brother was utterly drenched and his cock slid in and out with no resistance. He pressed his tongue along Sans’ neck, feeling the tingle from his overheated bones, the magic that hummed along its surface.
“P-Papyrus,” Sans managed to get out, his grip tightening around Papyrus’ neck. “I…I’m…”
Papyrus closed his mouth around the top of his spine and bit down with a moan, slamming his brother down fully onto his length.
Sans screamed and came for the third time, his body convulsing. Papyrus wrapped his arms tightly around him and kept pushing into that rippling, clenching heat. He groaned as his own orgasm ripped through him, hot and satisfying. He spilled inside, filling him to the brim, some of it running down and making a wet mess.
Sans slumped against him, resting entirely against Papyrus’ shoulder and being held upright solely by Papyrus’ arms. Carefully, Papyrus laid him down on his stomach. His brother was like the doll Papyrus always imagined him to be, pliant and flexible, freely allowing to be positioned in any way Papyrus desired.
He lifted his brother’s tailbone towards the ceiling and was pleased to see Sans’ pussy still formed, throbbing with heat as cum continued to dribble out. Sans gasped as Papyrus used his thumbs to spread him apart, letting more of their mingled juices run down his thighs. Still in a dazed heat, Papyrus leaned in, taking one long lick. Their combined taste made him groan. The maddening desire being pumped out of his soul wasn’t done with him yet.
He needed more.
Papyrus pressed the head of his cock against Sans’ entrance for the third time, kissing his shoulder. Sans whimpered, fingertips dragging against the mattress. Papyrus thrust inside gradually, aware enough to take into account his brother’s oversensitive body. The passage was still incredibly tight and now deliciously slick, his cock sliding in without any resistance. Sans gasped, his soul bright and burning under his ribs, now radiating a mix of their combined magic. Papyrus began to move, gradually increasing the force of his thrusts. The sounds of their lovemaking were louder and more obscene with their parts so drenched, so filthy. Papyrus wrapped a hand around Sans’ spine, stroking roughly. He wanted to utterly ruin him. Over and over again.
Sans mouth hung open, moaning and panting as Papyrus slammed into him. Papyrus ran a hand over the back of his skull, pressing his teeth against it in a kiss. His soul burned for him. Only him. No one else.
“Sans, Sans!” Papyrus leaned over him, pressing his chest against his back, nuzzling and kissing his neck as he continued to thrust, harder and harder and harder. “SANS!”
He slammed into him with one last, loud slap before his body locked up, another orgasm ripping through him. It was the most intense yet, wrenching out a loud cry. The violent tremor ran through his body and seemingly through Sans, his brother’s smaller body locking up and shuddering beneath him. Their skulls pressed so close together, Papyrus could hear his brother cursing under his breath - a broken, breathless cry.
Then it was over.
Papyrus rolled onto his back beside Sans, panting and staring wearily at the ceiling. He could hear his brother breathing nearby. It was slow and quiet. Papyrus turned his head to look at him. Sans was deep asleep, just like when he found him, eyes closed, but with drool clinging to his jaw. Papyrus lay there, staring, as the heat finally receded and a heavy weariness took its place.
He almost drifted himself, eyelids drooping, feeling so warm and good. So good…
Papyrus eyes snapped open, staring at Sans’ unconscious face. A sharp, acute horror was slowly wrapping around his soul.
The musky scent of sex hung thick in the air. It was stifling, even without the blankets. The last hour replayed in his mind with a startling clarity. The memory was missing one vital detail.
Sans never consented.
Sans never said “yes.”
...Papyrus didn’t even ask.
It was so quiet. Sans was so quiet.
In fact, the entire house was silent save the distant ticking of the living room clock.
Papyrus gets comforted.
Tags for this chapter: Dubcon/Noncon (It really depends on how you define it. Papyrus seems willing, but we all know his true feelings and he doesn't really have a say in the matter anyways), Papby (The WORST kind), Fontcest/Incest (Mentioned), Condescending Talk, Sexual Manipulation, Emotional Manipulation, Unhealthy/Toxic Friendship (Flowey being Flowey), Suicidal Ideation (It's not Papyrus, just a tiny thing at the start, so just in case), Flowey POV, Angst, Hurt/Comfort (I think this counts?), Explicit Smut (Masturbation + Fingering + Heavy Kissing + Penetration).
That piece of art is probably the number 1 reason why you get an update much sooner than I anticipated. Sorry for the delay. I got invested in other projects that took longer than they should have. So if you want more updates, draw me stuff. :3 XD (You don't have to, but it definitely helps my motivation as it proved here).
There was supposed to be another scene to this, and I hope to get it down soon and updated much faster than the time it took for this one. I just wanted this done already. Sorry for the delay.
For those who jumped in for the fontcest, you may have to wait for a bit longer. There needs some fall out first.
But you should definitely stick around for Chapter 11 if you are here for the fontcest. Just saying. ;)
The sleepy town of Snowdin began to stir as another sunless morning arrived in the Underground. The gentle sounds of the shops opening their doors, and the warm scent of freshly baked cinnamon bunnies were so painfully familiar to Flowey that they made him want to gouge his eyes out with icicles in order to end the monotony.
He had never impaled himself on ice before.
That might be an interesting experience.
No, no, no. Not yet. This current timeline was far too new to start over now. And who knew if something this fascinating would ever happen again? He couldn’t waste such a gift just because he was bored. No, he merely had to leave this agonizingly boring town and find his latest source of stimulation is all. That’ll cheer him up. Or something.
It was tricker than expected. Papyrus wasn’t home. He wasn’t at Grillby’s either. After Papyrus had told him what was going on, Flowey relentlessly searched for a way to look into that upstairs bedroom until he managed to find one tiny little gap between those annoying drapes.
Nope, no sign of the brainless skeleton. The walking fireplace didn’t seem pleased at this news either, though it was hard to tell with him. The guy barely had a face. He was definitely waiting for something or someone, that’s for sure. But nobody came.
Also, not good. If Papyrus decided to stop coming or told smiley trashbag what was going on, that was it. Game over.
Flowey left and searched the entire town, then the surrounding area until he finally found him.
And boy, he didn’t look good.
Papyrus was sitting alone in the middle of the forest, under the shadow of a looming pine tree. He was half buried in snow, knees pulled up to his chest and hugged tightly, face hidden against them. His pajamas were muddy and soaked through. He must have been sitting there motionless for hours, snow piling up on his his arms, shoulders and the top of his skull. Any longer and he’d soon be transformed into a large snow poff.
The idea was amusing.
But not amusing enough for him to wait and see it happen.
“Papyrus? What’s wrong?” Flowey popped up between his friend’s feet, looking up at him with his best worried expression he could muster. “Did something happen?”
At his voice, Papyrus finally showed signs of life. His shoulders twitched and after another moment of silence, his favorite raised his head a fraction of an inch, eye-sockets dark and empty, the light too dim to be visible.
“Flowey…” His voice was muffled against his legs, barely audible over the blowing wind. If Flowey hadn’t been leaning against Papyrus’ shins, he probably wouldn’t have heard him. “…I did something…really, really…bad.”
Flowey very much doubted that. The fact Papyrus even had that word in his vocabulary was kind of surprising. It sounded unnatural in his voice. Usually he used the word “weird” or “strange.” Never “bad.” Never “evil.” Papyrus probably stepped on a flower or a dog’s tail or something by accident. Something lame like that.
Flowey forced a grin.
“Oh, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, whatever it was,” he said, trying to sound supportive. It sounded dull to his own hearing, but Papyrus seemed to never question his intentions. Of course not. “Tell me. I’m sure it wasn’t bad at all.”
Papyrus turned his face away again, a red blush spreading across his cheekbones. “I… See, it…it started with Grillby. He…”
Flowey sat there as for the second time in less than a week, Papyrus described the most heinous act he has ever heard in his two lifetimes.
His smile dropped and he stared open mouthed at Papyrus when he finished.
“Wait! Wait! You’re telling me YOU did THAT with your BROTHER?! EEEWWWW”
Papyrus winced, clutching his skull. “I’m sorry!”
The sharp shock and disgust was a jolt to Flowey’s dead system. The experience invigorated him, running throughout his vines, tingly and hot.
It was so new and exciting!
Excitement! Actual, real excitement!
Then it was gone, back to the void or wherever the fragments of his soul had scattered off to, leaving him empty and cold once again.
He could get real used to this.
“Um…well…” he said, finding it hard to come up with the right words. With any words. “Friend, that’s…that… Why did you do that?”
“I couldn’t help it!” Papyrus said, his voice trembling. “Everything was burning. And I wanted him so badly. I thought…I thought maybe…maybe Sans…”
Oh dear god. Papyrus actually had the hots for his brother. This was so much worse than he ever thought possible for Papyrus.
It was so, so good!
“Wait.” Flowey blinked. “Maybe? Why maybe? You two did do it right?”
Papyrus actually whimpered, still clutching his skull with both hands. “Y-yes.”
“I…I don’t know if he…if he wanted it as much as I did. I…don’t know if…he even liked it. I didn’t give him the chance to say anything and I left before he woke up. I just…I just couldn’t stay there and act like this was okay!”
Oh. Ooooooh. It kept getting better and better.
Papyrus’ bones began to rattle softly as he trembled. Hours in the snow without shivering once and it’s this that has him shaking.
An idea popped into Flowey’s mind, a whole set of beautiful and untouched possibilities presented before him. He wondered…
“But you enjoyed it, right?” he asked as neutrally as possible, not wanting to put Papyrus on the defensive. Not like that was even possible, but to be safe. “I mean, I know very little about these kinds of things. I am just a flower after all. But it does seem like…well… If you enjoyed it, then Sans probably did too. After all, adults do this for fun, right?” Sick, disgusting fun. He’ll never understand grown ups. “So it’s probably alright!”
Papyrus shook his head violently. “THAT’S NOT IT, FLOWEY! I DIDN’T ASK! I DIDN’T ASK HIM FIRST! I DIDN’T WAIT TO SEE IF HE WAS OKAY WITH IT! I JUST DID WHATEVER I WANTED! I’M NO BETTER THAN-”
“Did he say no?”
Papyrus choked on his words, his head snapping up and released from his death grip. “What?”
“Did he say no?” Flowey repeated. He pulled out of the ground, wrapping himself around Papyrus’ legs. He could feel the femurs tense under his vines. “Did he say he didn’t want to? Did it look like he didn’t like it?”
Flowey knew that if his useless brother had, Papyrus was such a pathetic tool that even under the most powerful of outside influence he’d have stopped and they wouldn’t be having this conversation. It was very interesting to say the least that Papyrus had done it at all. Grillby was getting farther with Papyrus than he ever did in the many resets he’s known the skeleton.
Papyrus’ gaze drifted up and to the right, most likely trying to think. It looked painful. “N-No, but-”
The rest of the snow resting on Papyrus’ bones flew off as Papyrus jumped, leaning back as if Flowey had slapped him. He didn’t answer.
“When Grillby approached you the first time,” Flowey clarified, smiling gently. “Did you say no?”
Papyrus continued to stare at him with that ridiculous expression. Like he could barely process the words coming out of Flowey’s mouth.
“Did it feel good?” Flowey felt his favorite go rigid. He climbed his toy’s torso, his main stem curling around his shoulders in a gentle hug. “I mean, I didn’t know you liked that sort of thing. But now if you actually did it with your brother on purpose and enjoyed it… Gee, I guess it’s not as bad as you made it sound. It’s just a game adults play, right? So, did it feel good? With Grillby I mean?”
His face resting beside Papyrus’ jaw, he could practically hear the gears turning in that skull of his, or was that his grinding teeth? The rigid bones in his grasp started to tremble again.
Honestly, this was what made Papyrus so hilarious. The one thing that never changed, other than his stupidity, reset after reset. It was his ingrained and unshakable sense and avoidance of what was “wrong.” But the idiot had never faced something like this before. Could it even be called wrong? Flowey wanted to put that doubt into that empty skull of his.
Could Papyrus actually be convinced that this was all somehow okay? Or at least somehow his own fault? That he deserved it? What would that look like? If anything, maybe Flowey could finally teach the stupid, sad sack of bones the bitter truth of this world.
And gosh, wouldn’t that be something?
Papyrus’ voice went faint again. “Yes, but…”
“Did it hurt?” Flowey whispered against where his ear would have been.
Papyrus shut his eyes. His trembling got worse. “Flowey, please… That…doesn’t matter. I…I didn’t want to. It…it wasn’t nice.”
Wow, talk about understatement of the year.
“Maybe. But maybe like you with Sans, Grillby thought you did want it,” Flowey answered, lightly rubbing his shoulder blades, trying to be comforting. “You are quite an attractive monster, and so charismatic. You can’t really blame him, now can you? And in the same sense, no one can blame you either. So don’t worry about it, friend.”
Papyrus got so quiet, he must have stopped breathing. Flowey pulled back from the hug to look at his face. His favorite refused to make eye contact. He was staring at some imaginary point in the distance, unfocused. His expression had washed out. It was like no one was home.
Huh. That was also new.
Maybe he had gone too far. There was only so much Papyrus could take. Flowey knew this fact from previous experience. But with the new territory that came with these events, well it was a lot harder to tell.
He shook him. “Hey!”
Startled, Papyrus’ head snapped around, staring at him with wide, terrified eye sockets.
“Speaking of that bag of hot air,” Flowey gave him a concerned look. “You should go to him, right now!”
The fear in Papyrus’ eyes grew. He looked like his soul was about to burst out of his chest. He seemed incapable of speech.
“Better to take the initiative! Distract him! I’m sure he won’t be happy at all if he were to find out what you did,” Flowey explained. “You may still be able to save the situation with your brother, but only if Grillby doesn’t find out. Who knows what he’d do if he did?! So you better get going!”
A silent Papyrus was unsettling. Like looking up and seeing the open sky instead of a dark ceiling hanging above one’s head. It was something he never expected to see in his life, but boy it was a sight to behold.
Papyrus continued to sit there for a moment, looking so utterly lost that it stirred something deep inside the center of Flowey’s stem.
Either that or it was just gas.
Flowey unraveled and returned to the snowy ground as Papyrus got shakily to his feet. His magical joints popped and creaking back into place after being in one position for so long. Papyrus stood there for a moment, showing no signs of actually going anywhere. He hugged himself, shuddering as if now he could feel the chill air on his skinless frame.
“Go on. Get!” Flowey nudged his boot with a vine and when Papyrus looked down, he gave him a goofy smile and a wink, resisting the urge to laugh.
“You got this, Papyrus! I believe in you. ”
Grillby’s bedroom door slammed shut upstairs, the sound carrying down to the kitchen. Grillby stopped what he was doing. His fire sprites, busy prepping the food and drinks to be served once they opened, popped out of existence in small puffs of smoke. He stood silently for a moment, considering the implications of the sound.
It had to be Papyrus. No one else knew about the exit and why would anyone else stumble upon it accidentally and go straight to his bedroom while making as much noise of possible? No, it was definitely Papyrus.
And he was extremely late.
Checking the time, Grillby had less than an hour before his bar opened. What kind of punishment could he dish out in that amount of time? A smirk spread across his lips at the possibilities.
His earlier frustration and anger at his absence was gone, realizing maybe this was for the better. He had sent Papyrus home with a difficult assignment, after all. Papyrus could have merely overslept. It had been one hell of a drug he had given him and the side effects would have left him drained.
Eager for what he’d find, Grillby still climbed the stairs at his own pace. He opened his bedroom door, purposely keeping his expression void of emotion.
It wasn’t what he expected. Well, not to this extent.
Papyrus was sitting on his bed, back against the headboard with his knees drawn up. His arms hung loosely around them. Grillby noticed the dirt that clung on the ends of his damp sleeves and the bottoms of his pajamas.
His plaything looked terrible.
What happened? Had he gone too far?
Grillby wasn’t sure. Papyrus wasn’t a child. He had a decent understanding of the world, of right and wrong. He had limits, principles, pride, integrity.
Had Grillby broken them? Had he broken him?
“…Papyrus?” Grillby said, but got no response.
Frowning with slight concern, he sat next to Papyrus’ bare feet and rested a hand his shin, rubbing gently. “…Papyrus, what’s wrong?”
At the contact, Papyrus came to life with a shiver. He raised his face, his flickering eye-lights struggling to focus on Grillby’s face. He looked like a frightened child, cornered and helpless.
Grillby’s worry grew, frowning deeply. He squeezed his leg. “…Come on. Tell me.”
The bone tensed under his grip as Papyrus glanced away, brow ridge wrinkled with thought. He pulled away from Grillby’s hand and slid down to the edge of the bed until they sat side by side, their thighs touching. His head bowed, Papyrus gripped the edge of the mattress before finally speaking.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he whispered. “I have no excuse.”
While pleased by this rare display of modesty, it did nothing to reassure him . “…Did something happen?”
Papyrus grit his teeth, staring at his lap. He didn’t answer. Grillby reached over, grabbing his jaw and turned it so they faced each other. Papyrus didn’t resist, allowing his head to be turned and meeting his gaze with empty sockets.
“…Did you do your homework?” he asked calmly, trying to guess the cause for his toy’s strange behavior while searching for any signs of deception.
Papyrus swallowed and his eyes flicked to the side then back to him, the lights quivering. He nodded stiffly, his chin still in Grillby’s grasp.
Papyrus winced, but reluctantly nodded again. Grillby let him go and the skeleton stripped out of his clothes with trembling fingers. Naked and shaking, the young monster leaned back on the bed and hesitated, confusion and panic on his face.
“…What is it?” he asked.
Papyrus winced again despite how soft Grillby had spoken. “I…I’m not sure what…you’d like to see…”
Grillby stared at him in mild confusion before he realized what his toy was referring to. “…You didn’t finger yourself last night, did you?”
Papyrus flinched as if he expected to be hit.
“…So you lied.”
“Y-you…didn’t say I had to do it like that…” Papyrus whispered, letting out a low whine.
“…Oh, on the contrary. I believe I made it quite clear what I meant.” He sighed, his flames crackling in annoyance. “…Well, that’s fine. I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me now. …And you better impress me.”
Papyrus visibly shuddered, a hot blush painting his cheeks. He nodded quickly, unable to look him in the eye. He edged his femurs apart and brought his hand to his pelvis. With the very tips of his fingers, he stroked and fondled along his pubic bone, swallowing his moans behind clenched teeth. His blush deepened as Grillby shifted closer, possibly feeling the heat of his stare as he took in his shivering body.
It took longer than usual.
It was obvious Papyrus’ mood was getting in the way. He must have realized it himself, starting to look fearful, tears pooling at the edges of his sockets as he rubbed himself harder with three fingers, the area glowing with swirling magic. When his pussy did finally materialize, it was with a wet gasp, tears rolling down his face.
Papyrus looked absolutely miserable.
It was really taking the fun out of this.
“…Papyrus. I want you to please yourself. Make yourself feel good. Come on. I know you can do that for me,” he whispered encouragingly, shifting closer.
He kissed his cheek and Papyrus let out a soft sob, but he seemed determined to obey without question. If it weren’t for the sobbing, Grillby would have been rather pleased with his performance.
Papyrus’ fingers slid past his warm folds, rubbing along the inside flesh and up against his clit. His shaking grew with his arousal, his pussy starting to glisten. Grillby thought once Papyrus got started, he’d feel better and stop crying.
Instead, more tears fell, mingled with hiccups and sniffling. Grillby watched as Papyrus slipped two fingers inside himself and then stopped, letting out a particularly loud sob.
It was no use. He was a mess.
“…Papyrus,” he said, voice low and stern.
At the tone of his voice, Papyrus fell apart. He sobbed hard, burying his face against both his hands and curled in on himself, legs pressed tightly together. Despite all of this, Grillby could see his pussy, still formed and glowing with visible arousal.
Without saying a word, Grillby grabbed his arm and pulled him into his lap. He was a bit surprised at how easy Papyrus let himself be maneuvered, like picking up a rag doll. But once pressed against his chest, his wretched lover wrapped his arms around his neck, clinging to him as he sobbed hard against his shoulder. The tears soaked through his shirt before evaporating against his flaming body.
Grillby ran one hand along his shoulder blades, the other moving up and down the top of his spine in soothing strokes. “...Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”
For a moment, Papyrus seemed to cry even harder at his words, his grip tightening around his neck. But it was as if he had reached a peak in his misery and now came down, his sobs lowering in volume and intensity.
“...There, there. That’s it,” Grillby whispered, pressing his lips against the side of his skull. “I’ll take care of you.”
Papyrus let out one last broken sob, then went quiet, leaning completely against his shoulder, his arms loosening their grip. His breathing deepened and Grillby wondered if he was going to fall asleep like this.
That wouldn’t do.
Grillby nuzzled his cheek and neck, his fingers wrapping around his lower spine, stroking slowly. Papyrus gasped quietly, but didn’t move, didn’t tense up. He didn’t do anything as Grillby fondled him slowly, the soothing gesture turning sensual.
“…Kiss me,” Grillby breathed.
He didn’t even have to force his face towards him. Papyrus turned his head on his own, pressing his parted teeth against his mouth. The tip of Papyrus’ tongue was already reaching out to greet his and Grillby groaned, unable to help himself as they kissed deeply, wetly, exploring each other’s mouths like true lovers.
It was wonderful. Reassuring. Maybe whatever had gotten into Papyrus could be a good thing.
As he caressed the back of Papyrus’ skull, his other hand continued down the front of his toy’s spine, sliding further down to roll the tips of his fingers against the swollen clit sitting between them. Papyrus gasped sharply against his mouth, bucking into his hand on reflex.
Grillby brought both his hands to Papyrus’ hip bones, gripping and rolling his toy’s pelvis against his own. Papyrus groaned softly, his arms twitching around his shoulders, a heat growing where their hips connected.
“…Look at me, Papyrus,” Grillby whispered, breaking the kiss.
Papyrus obeyed, pulling his head back and meeting his gaze.
His eyes were empty. It was a bit strange and unsettling. True, his sockets were normally narrow and so deep they always appeared dark from a distance, but up close you usually could see his eye-lights, bright and twinkling. But even at this range, he could see nothing but darkness, Papyrus’ teeth a straight, unhappy line.
Grillby didn’t know what to make of it. His curiosity got the better of him, wondering what he could get him to do in this state.
“…I want you to take my cock inside you, Papyrus,” he whispered. He let his hips go, lightly trailing the back of his hand down his cheekbone. “Right now, in my lap like this. I’m sure it’ll make you feel better. Can you do that for me?”
Papyrus shuddered faintly against his chest, turning his face away. His expression didn’t change and he didn’t answer, staring at nothing. But a moment, Papyrus silently reached down between them, unbuttoning and unzipping Grillby’s fly. If he was surprised by his full erection, Papyrus didn’t show it. In fact, Grillby couldn’t read his usually so expressive and vibrant young lover at all, his face shadowed with what may have been apathy, depression or simple exhaustion.
Grillby watched in aroused curiosity as Papyrus rose up on his knees, wrapping a skeletal hand around his heated member pumping it slowly a few times before bringing the head to the moist folds between his femurs.
Papyrus gasped as he lowered himself, slowly sheathing himself on Grillby’s length, taking him inch by inch until he was fully seated. Breathing harshly, Papyrus rested his head against Grillby’s shoulder, facing the wall. The young skeleton sat there without moving, his quivering bones the only sign that Grillby’s cock was buried inside him.
“…Good boy.” Grillby praised him regardless, kissing the side of his skull. “Now, why don’t you move your hips? You know how good it feels. Don’t hold back. It’s okay. Go ahead, my sweet baby boy.”
Papyrus shuddered again, but like before, obeyed without a word. He grabbed each of Grillby’s shoulders for leverage as he pulled himself up off him, before lowering himself down again. He grunted, gritting his teeth and Grillby moaned, his toy’s walls clenched tight and hot around him.
But something was wrong.
It was too tight. Papyrus had tensed up, his movements slow as he dragged himself up and down the throbbing length. Watching his face, Grillby caught him wincing in pain, his hands trembling on his shoulders. It felt amazing, but it was painful to watch.
“…Stop.” He brought his hands to Papyrus’ hips, stilling them. "You're hurting yourself.”
Papyrus didn’t resist him, stopping immediately, panting. He refused to look him in the eye, tears pooling just behind his eye sockets.
Grillby frowned. Something definitely happened last night, something other than shamefully following his orders. Papyrus had proven himself to be too resilient to simply crumble to pieces like this from that alone. So what was it?
"…Look at me."
Papyrus tensed up further and it took all of Grillby’s willpower to not get distracted by the intense grip around his cock. He somehow managed as Papyrus turned his head slowly, a striking blush bringing color to his face.
Grillby reached up and pulled him closer, pressing their foreheads together. He gently rubbed his thumb along the back of his neck, looking deep into his empty sockets. “…Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. I promise. I won’t be mad.”
The proximity or perhaps his eyes were too much for Papyrus. He glanced away, but Grillby gripped his skull firmly, bringing his gaze back.
“…Hey,” he whispered. “I mean it. Whatever it is, we can overcome it. I’ll help you, whatever it is. So don’t do this to yourself. It’ll be okay. I swear.”
His words finally seemed to have reached him. His expression wavered, faint pinpricks of light glowing in the gloom of his sockets as tears ran down his cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice full of emotion. “I’m so sorry. I..I don’t know why I… I’m so sorry…” He shut his eyes against a new wave of tears, shaking again. “I…I’m disgusting…”
Grillby kissed him lightly, then embraced him, pulling him tight against his chest. “…It’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated soothingly. He brought his hands to Papyrus’ hips, lightly caressing his iliac crests. “Let go. Just let go.”
With a broken sob, Papyrus finally relaxed, the tension melting from his body. With it gone, he sank deeper onto Grillby’s member with a soft sound.
“…That’s it. Good boy.” Grillby kissed the side of his skull before taking his toy’s waist and began to move him. “…I got you.”
Papyrus groaned, no longer fighting it, but no longer participating either. He was limp against Grillby’s body as Papyrus was made to ride his cock. It wasn’t ideal, Papyrus’ waist unmoving no matter how hot and wet he was, or how loudly he cried out, drool running down the back of Grillby’s shirt. He didn’t move.
But it was better than Papyrus hurting himself. Grillby just needed to be patient.
At least he wasn’t telling him to stop.
Grillby shifted their positions, laying Papyrus down on the bed while moving on top of him so he remained inside. Papyrus continued to face the wall, whimpering as he gripped the sheets. Grillby leaned over him, rocking into him at a slow, steady pace that had both of them moaning.
His face turned, Papyrus neck was exposed and Grillby took advantage, pressing his tongue into the top discs, digging into the cartilage. Papyrus gasped and arched under him, eyes tightly shut.
Grillby bit him with a low growl for the mistake, unable to stop himself. Papyrus cried out in pain, squirming under him, but whether or not he realized his error, it was unclear.
It didn’t matter. He’ll re-educate him on that particular lesson later.
Gripping and spreading Papyrus’ femurs far apart, Grillby pounded into him, getting more delicious cries from Papyrus’ lovely mouth. It wasn’t long before he was brought to his edge.
“Oh!” Papyrus moaned. “I…I…I’m going to…! I’m cumming!”
Well, at least that lesson stuck.
Grillby snapped his waist forward, slamming deep inside Papyrus’ hot, tight passage, earning him a wonderful scream as Papyrus locked around him, his bones convulsing with pleasure.
He continued to thrust throughout his toy’s climax, making him whimper and claw at the bed sheets. With one more, Grillby hilted himself completely and came, spilling deep inside with a groan.
Papyrus gasped as he was filled, shuddering with pleasure as he collapsed back against the bed, catching his breath.
He opened his eyes halfway, staring off into the distance. His eye-lights were back, but they were flickering dangerously, as if they could be snuffed out at any moment.
Once Grillby regained his own composure, he leaned down, kissing Papyrus’ forehead before gently pulling out. Getting to his feet, he fixed his pants and shirt, using his magic to clean any fluids that might have clung to his clothes. He kept an eye on Papyrus, still concerned.
The young monster lay motionless, breathing deeply as he stared at the far wall. Though his magic had vanished, his legs remained sprawled apart where Grillby had left them, lines of cum running down his thighs. Papyrus didn’t seem to care. He looked exhausted, yet his eyes remained open, his focus seemingly miles away.
“…I have to open the restaurant,” Grillby said, filling the silence. Papyrus’ only reaction was to blink slowly. “…But I want to talk to you later. You don’t look well. I think it’s best if you stayed here today. Rest up. I’ll bring up some food later. So wait here until I come back, alright? …Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you. …Nod if you understand me.”
Papyrus blinked again, but then slowly nodded against the sheets, wiping away some of his drying tears.
Grillby left him to sleep, closing the door behind him. He made sure to lock the back exit, making it impossible for him to slip out unless he tried the window, but he was confident Papyrus wouldn’t dare risk his displeasure at such a reckless act.
As he walked down the stairs, he wondered what could have happened to his precious toy to have him so distraught…and more importantly, what he needed to do to get him to confess it.
Papyrus was behaving in new and unexpected ways. It was dangerous, really. He needed absolute control over him if he wanted this to work. But it also gave him a thrill he’s never felt before. Not even with his first conquest.
Grillby just had to avoid ruining him too soon.
He wanted them to have a long happy life together.
That couldn’t happen if he pushed Papyrus too fast, too hard.
Not when he had so much planned for them.
Sans has a very bad day, but nothing compared to Papyrus'.
Tags for this chapter: NonCon, Forced Oral Sex, Public (ish) Masturbation, Heavy Groping, Papby (the WORST kind), Fontcest/Incest (Mentioned), Sexual Manipulation, Blackmail, Exhibitionism (Don't Get Caught Kink), Guilt/Self-Loathing, Depression, Angst.
This scene was supposed to be part of the last chapter. Now seeing how long it ended up, I'm kinda glad I didn't try to write it all together. Still, I wanted to get it out of the way sooner rather than later since the last update seemed like such a small one and took so long. Here's me trying to make it up to you.
The next update won't be as quick as this one since I'm going to be working on an Underfell one shot next based on Askellie's delicious writing prompt.
Again, those waiting for the fontcest, you want to stay tuned for the next chapter :3
Thank you for all your support. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I had fun writing it!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Time moved in a blur.
At some point, the door opened and someone, most likely Grillby, had come in for a few moments before leaving again. Papyrus barely noticed. He didn’t move from the soiled bed, soaking in the filth that seemed to seep into his very soul. It seemed pointless to try to wash himself or change the sheets. What did it matter? It’ll only get dirty again.
He knew he was being childish. If he really believed that, then it was perfectly fine for Sans to keep his sock collection laying all over the place.
Papyrus felt a jab in his chest at the mere thought of his brother and rolled onto his side, bringing his knees up to his chest. The ache in his bones from Grillby’s abuse was nothing compared to the pain in his soul.
There was no fixing this. No taking it back. What was done was done. Drugged or not.
Flowey was wrong. Papyrus hated thinking badly of his best friend, but his way of thinking was not right.
It had not been okay.
It will never be okay.
Grillby had shown him first hand how horrible it felt to be forced on, to be used until there was nothing left, to have his lines crossed, his boundaries broken, and be utterly disregarded, reduced to nothing but a mere sex toy.
It was true. Papyrus hadn’t said “No” that first time, and even now he wondered what would have happened if he had… Would it still have ended up this way? Or would it have had put an end to it all?
He didn’t know the answer to those questions, but he did know he had been scared. He had wanted it to stop, wanted him to stop.
Had Sans been scared? Had he wanted Papyrus to stop?
Papyrus brought a hand to his mouth against a wave of nausea.
How could he have done that to him?
It didn’t matter whose fault it was for his own situation. Maybe Papyrus had given Grillby the wrong impression. Maybe he had been asking for it. But Sans hadn’t. Sans never deserved this.
How could he have done this? The thought wouldn’t leave him alone. How could he have done this to his only brother?! Papyrus knew how bad it felt! He knew! First hand! So why, why did he?!
Maybe Sans wanted it.
Papyrus scowled at the idea and turned over again, burying his face against one of Grillby’s pillows.
They were brothers. Brothers! Grillby was sick to think Sans wanted something like that from the brother he had raised.
And so was Papyrus for wanting to be with the one who raised him.
Raised him to believe he was great, wonderful and powerful.
Sans’ longest running joke. His worst one yet.
It was clear now why he never received the acknowledgment he so desperately craved.
You can’t acknowledge something that isn’t there.
Popularity? Friendship? He didn’t deserve either.
After all, if he really was so great, then why didn't he do better? If it really was so easy for him, why had he failed so horribly? There was no mistaking this. No overlooking it.
Papyrus had failed so utterly, not even he could twist it into a some form of victory. There was no silver lining.
Grillby had won.
Sans had lost.
Papyrus pushed himself up, exhausted and yet having no desire to sleep. He didn’t want the kind of nightmares that awaited him once he closed his eyes. Besides, how could he sleep?
After he had cleaned up the mess in Sans’ room, dressing his brother carefully and wiping away the mess as best he could without waking him, he had immediately left the house. What else could he do? Go back to bed and pretend like it never happened?
Papyrus still had some shred of decency left.
But he couldn’t hide forever. Papyrus searched the room for some sort of clock, finding one in the form of the wretched device on top of the old T.V.- Grillby's VCR. Its digital display showed it was 9:00 pm.
Was it that late already?
Had he really been in bed all this time? He dimly remembered someone coming in earlier, but other than that short visit, he had been left alone.
Looking around, Papyrus noticed a cold plate of food on the bedside table - a burger and a side of fries. Making a slight face, his attention shifted to a set of clothes folded neatly beside the headboard. It took a second for him to realize the pajamas he had worn when he arrived had disappeared. He found that he didn't remotely care.
With no bathroom and nothing to clean himself with, Papyrus got dressed in the fresh change of clothes as he was, sticky and feeling utterly unclean. He doubted a shower would have helped in any case.
The outfit Grillby had gotten him made him pause. It reminded him a little of his battle body, and fit him perfectly. He wondered how Grillby could possibly have known his size.
Regardless, he slipped on the black tights and the denim shorts that were frayed at the ends. A long sleeve orange top with a dipped neckline exposing the top of his sternum finished the outfit. Grillby even gotten him matching shoes - ankle versions of his favorite red boots.
Papyrus felt cold and uncomfortable in the get up. Clothes from a stranger, yet fitted perfectly for him. He shuddered, feeling sick and light headed. He needed to get out.
Pushing it all down, Papyrus managed to make it to the door and was half surprise to find it unlocked.
A brief trip down the left staircase told him what he already expected. The emergency exit was locked via magic. Papyrus could feel the ghost of annoyance at such a dangerous practice, but couldn’t feel any genuine concern, save for a hint of unease at the prospect of facing Grillby again before the night was over. He stood there for a few more minutes, before finally climbing the stairs again and heading down to the kitchen.
An odd calm had come over him as he entered the dark room. It was quiet and spotless, Grillby having already cleaned up and shut down the facilities. Had he closed early?
At the door leading to the main establishment, Papyrus peeked through the window. There was no one in sight. All seats and booths were empty and Grillby was nowhere to be seen.
Papyrus shivered, his soul twisting with anxiety. The sight of the empty bar was a vivid reminder of how this all started, and he never wanted to find himself alone in that once inviting space ever again.
For a moment, he hesitated, thinking maybe it would be best to wait in the bedroom like he was told.
But where was Grillby? Did he leave? Maybe he could quickly slip out before-
Before he could finish the thought, the door was yanked open towards the window's blind spot and a fiery hand grabbed Papyrus by the wrist, pulling him through.
“…Sneaky little thing,” Grillby murmured, his arms sliding around his waist, pressing him against his chest.
Papyrus gasped, blushing at the sudden proximity. His face burned more as Grillby’s hands slid down to the back of his shorts, fingering his tailbone through his shorts.
“Please,” Papyrus whimpered. He didn’t have the strength to fight him, but still he tried. “I’m…I’m tired. Can’t I go home? Please?”
“…Not yet,” Grillby murmured, his breath tickling his neck. His hand slid between Papyrus' shorts and tights, fingering the holes of his sacrum from the outside. “…I’m not done.”
Papyrus shivered, biting back a moan. Grillby was wasting his time. Papyrus doubted he had enough strength to summon anything that would please him. He still couldn't believe he found his match in boundless energy in the quiet bartender of all people. If it weren’t for … circumstances … Papyrus would have actually been impressed.
Grillby, of course, didn't ask for his opinion. The bartender spun him around, bending him over the counter as he pressed in from behind.
“…Do you like it?” Grillby asked as he trailed a finger down the Papyrus' spine, stroking the soft fabric of his new shirt. His other hand was still playing with the holes of his pelvis, feeling through the thick hose of his tights.
Papyrus scanned the room for anything that could keep his mind off Grillby’s hands. His palms slid slightly on the bar's surface, slick with sweat. “Oh… Y-yes, it’s um…new!”
Grillby smirked against the side of his skull. “…You seem to be in a better mood. Did a few hours rest help?”
Rest? What rest? He just wanted to go home. Moping around all day wasn’t going to change anything. Papyrus gripped the inside edges of the wooden counter and tried hard to play it cool. A line of sweat ran down the back of his skull.
He wasn’t sure what Grillby wanted him to say. “I-I guess?”
“…Hm. So tell me. What happened last night? You were so distraught.” As he spoke, Grillby’s hands moved to his front, undoing his shorts and hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his tights.
Papyrus grit his teeth, feeling the familiar heat of shame rush over his the back of his neck. He tried to remain as still as possible, fisting his trembling hands against the counter. “L-last…night? I…I just…”
The front door started to open.
It was impossible to miss. Papyrus had been staring fervently at the doorknob to distract himself from Grillby’s invasive touch. The moment it started to turn, his soul stopped in his chest. With a squeak, he pushed against the bar counter, ducking under it. He dropped to the floor so fast, he wasn’t sure if he had knelt down or if his wobbly legs caved under him.
Grillby had taken a step back, but his expression was composed as ever, turned towards the door. The only thing out of place was the bulge in his pants, a soft glow bleeding through the fabric. Luckily for them both, everything below his waist was hidden from view. Papyrus did his best to ignore Grillby's arousal, despite the fact that it was poised right beside his face, close enough for him to feel the heat against his cheekbone.
On top of that, Papyrus couldn't breathe as he recognized the slurred voice of their unexpected visitor.
“Sup, Grillbzzz. …Why is it so dead in here?”
This couldn’t be happening.
Sans?! What was he doing here?!
Papyrus looked up at Grillby’s face, mortified.
Why hadn’t he locked the door?! Hadn’t he closed?
“…Slow night,” Grillby answered, ignoring Papyrus completely. He took a step closer and Papyrus had to turn his body away as the bartender’s lower half crowded him in the small space under the bar. “…Decided to close early. …No sign of you all day.”
“I’m here now aren’t I?” Papyrus’ soul plummeted as he heard one of the stools scrape across the floor and the shuffling of his brother's jacket as he sat down. “Give me some slack, will ya? I’ve had a long day.”
“Heh. Quite an illuminating observation you made there, Grillbz.”
There was moment of silence and Papyrus looked up again, checking Grillby’s expression. It was impossible to read. There was nothing TO read, his face a blank wall of flame. Without so much as a sigh, the bartender picked up a bottle full of amber liquid and an empty shot glass from the liquor case behind him, setting them down on in front of Sans.
For a brief moment, Papyrus’ fear was eradicated by a flash of fury as he watched Grillby pour his incredibly intoxicated brother a shot of fire whiskey.
But what could he do? Papyrus glared silently at Grillby, shaking with an overwhelming emotion he couldn’t name. If Grillby noticed, it didn't show. He kept his gaze on Sans, sliding the drink to his brother’s outstretched hand.
“…Should I be concerned?”
“You’re not losing your resident stool warmer if that’s what you're worried about. I just found myself in Hotland for a few hours. I figured a stop at the Hotel for a drink, or two, or ten, wouldn’t be so bad after the day I’ve had…”
Grillby’s expression shifted slightly, something only those who spent a lot of time around him would notice. It was the equivalent of a furrowed brow on someone with a forehead not made of fire.
“…Hotland? The hot dog stand keeping you that busy?”
“Nah. I skipped both gigs. Hotland was the only place…” Sans trailed off and didn’t seem to have any intention of finishing. There was a pause as his brother threw back the shot, swallowing loud enough for Papyrus to hear. He let out a disgusting burp for good measure. “Hey, have seen Papyrus?”
There it was. Papyrus pressed against the lower half of the bar, shutting his eyes tightly as he focused on steadying his breathing. His soul was pounding so hard, it hurt.
“…That’s a first,” Grillby answered. “…Usually he’s the one barging in here after I closed, asking for you. …Did something happen?”
“You could say…” Sans slid the shot glass across the counter for a refill. “…it’s been a very bitter day.”
Papyrus nearly knocked himself out against the wooden barrier, banging his forehead against it as something slipped across his jaw line. Looking down, he saw it was Grillby’s hand. The warm fingers ran across his teeth and chin, turning his face gently towards the bartender’s bulging fly. Papyrus’ stared wide eyed at the silver zipper as he realized what Grillby wanted him to do.
He couldn’t be serious…
Above him, Grillby was one handedly pouring his brother another shot. “…Is something going on between the two of you?”
“Eh. You could say things are…a bit on the rocks between us. Heh. Get it?”
Sans sighed and Papyrus swallowed hard, beads of sweat running down his temples. He couldn’t. Grillby couldn’t possibly think he could do this. Not with Sans right there. There had to be a limit.
Sans swallowed the second shot and didn’t seem like he was going to give Grillby an answer.
“…You know,” Grillby said after a brief silence, idly fingering Papyrus’ jaw. “…I have noticed something peculiar about your brother lately.”
Papyrus’ soul twisted with panic. He grabbed Grillby’s pants legs, tugging as he looked up at him, silently begging for mercy. Grillby ignored him, his hand sliding from his chin to top of his skull, fingertips pressing down, searing hot like the lit ends of cigarettes.
“You have, huh?” Sans murmured nonchalantly, but Papyrus heard an underlying edge to his voice. His brother was interested. “Do tell.”
“…The thing with Papyrus,” Grillby said calmly, pouring Sans another drink. “He’s…”
Papyrus braced himself, eyes tightly shut.
He couldn’t let this happen!
Before Grillby could continue, he leaned forward, pressing his teeth against the solid warmth between Grillby’s legs. Kissing gently, his trembling fingers quietly pulled down the zipper and reached inside, pulling him free.
The heat in Grillby’s fingers cooled off a notch and he stroked his skull approvingly, like a pet dog.
“…unpredictable,” the bartender finished smoothly. “You can’t put a monster like him on a leash.”
Papyrus felt something hot and vile in his chest at Grillby’s words. The bartender’s level of deception was beyond anything he imagined could exist. It was despicable. But there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say, not with Sans sitting right above him with no idea how disgusting his little brother had become.
“Heh. True,” Sans said, swallowing another shot. “…that is…most certainly true.”
Papyrus stroked Grillby's length, squinting at its brightness. The bartender was fully hard, a drop of molten precum glistening at the tip. Papyrus licked along the underside, shuddering at the heat against his tongue, its musky scent, its bitter taste.
Despite his fatigue, Papyrus’ body responded like the shameless thing it had become. Magic he didn’t know he still had pooled between his thighs, warming his pelvis and spine. He did his best to ignore it, focusing on satisfying Grillby and keeping him silent. This being the second time he’s ever done this in his life, he wasn’t very confident.
“…I’m sure you two only need to talk.”
Papyrus pressed his tongue against the head, licking off the precum before opening his mouth, the inside already lined with magic. Grillby’s hand ran back and forth over the top of his skull, hips pushing forward. Papyrus took a breath and let Grillby shove his cock down his throat, swallowing around him. He fought his gag reflex, trying to keep silent, extremely aware of Sans' proximity. He welcomed the burn in his throat, closing his eyes. It helped ground him and it staved off his panic as Grillby's hips rocked into it, quietly fucking his throat.
“Oh yes, that is....definitely on the agenda,” came Sans’ voice, something strained and dark in his tone.
“…You know your secrets are safe with me, right?” Grillby replied as if it were just another casual night at his bar. He even managed to sound sincere.
Grillby’s composure, the heated touch caressing his skull, the throbbing shaft rocking in and out of his mouth…
Papyrus couldn't deny it. His body was burning . A hot, dripping mound manifested below his pubis, soaking his tights. Eyes tightly shut, he stuffed a hand inside them, rubbing against his swollen clit. His entire body flushed with shame, he focused on the pleasure, wanting to get lost to it. An escape from this nightmare.
He’d go insane otherwise.
Sans had gone quiet, but Papyrus hadn’t forgotten he was there. Oh, the contrary. His brother’s presence made it so much worse. He still ached for him. Nearly twenty-four hours since the drug ran its course, Papyrus still wanted him. He imagined it was his brother’s cock in his mouth, his brother’s hand fingering his cunt. He groaned, sound muffled against Grillby's cock.
Grillby continued to idly pet him as Papyrus moved on him, pulling back to run his tongue along the head, sucking gently before taking him down his throat once again, grinding down against his fingers.
“Secrets, huh?" Sans chuckled softly. "Okay. So what if...I told you that...me and my brother fucked last night? How's that for a secret?”
Papyrus’ eyes shot wide open as he froze in place. Too late, he realized it was a mistake. If he had kept going, acted like nothing was wrong, maybe Grillby would have thought Sans’ words were nothing more than drunken nonsense. But Grillby wasn’t stupid.
It would have explained everything.
Grillby stopped petting him. Papyrus didn’t dare pull back, breathing harshly through his nasal cavity. Glancing up, he winced when he found himself on the brutal end of a cold glare, Grillby glancing down at him without moving his head. It smoothed out into a neutral expression as he looked back to Sans.
"...Is that a joke, Sans? It's not a very funny one, even for you," the bartender said evenly. "...Perhaps it's time you went home."
Grillby started moving again. Papyrus bit back a groan, the bartender's grip around his skull tight and painful, pulling him onto every thrust. Drool ran down Papyrus’ chin and he was unable to completely silence his gagging, lightly choking on the bartender's cock.
Luckily, Sans didn't seem to notice.
Papyrus could feel Grillby’s anger, his disapproval, his bitterness with each thrust. It gave him a deep sense of sick satisfaction. He kept fingering himself, pushing two fingers inside. He was so wet, they went in easily, rubbing against his slick inner walls. It felt so good. Better than the reality crashing down around his head. If he was filthy and disgusting, then fine. Let them be gross together.
“Heh. You’re right. That’s one hell of a bad joke. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Just forget I said anything.”
Papyrus heard Sans’ slippers touch the hardwood floor, heard the rustle of his clothes. God, his brother was right there. All he had to do was look over the counter and he’d see everything.
Clinging to Grillby’s waist with one hand, the other continued to rub and press inside his tight opening, harder and faster. Papyrus swallowed a moan, taking Grillby’s cock as deep as it could go.
He was so close.
They both were.
He rubbed his clit fiercely as he came, stifling his cries around Grillby’s length, a burning pain mingling with the orgasmic pleasure. His juices spilled over his hand, staining his new clothes.
“Grillbz, do me a favor and…just pretend you never saw me tonight? Is that cool?”
It took a moment for Grillby to answer. He was too busy quietly following Papyrus over the edge. How he managed with a straight face, without making a sound, Papyrus had no idea.
As he felt Grillby’s cum slide down his throat, he quickly dissolved his magic. The thick substance ran down the back of his spine and made a mess on the floor instead of being absorbed into his soul. Their magic was mixed enough as it was, he didn’t need to taint himself any further.
Sans was still waiting. “Grillby?”
“…Sure. …Goodnight, Sans,” Grillby finally replied, quietly pulling out of Papyrus’ mouth.
“Goodnight, Grillbz. ...Thanks for the drinks.”
As his brother shuffled back outside, Grillby stepped back from the bar, fixing his pants. Papyrus coughed against his sleeve, hoping the sound was muffled enough, curling into a ball on his hands and knees on the floor.
The door closed with a quiet click, Sans leaving without noticing a thing. He must have been...really drunk. It wasn’t until they were properly alone again, did Papyrus realize how badly he messed up.
“…Enjoyed yourself, Papyrus?”
Papyrus whimpered and didn’t answer, his forehead pressed against the floor. It was the wrong response.
Grillby grabbed him by the back of his neck and yanked him up to his feet. He let him go with a shove and Papyrus stumbled, turning quickly to keep Grillby in front of him.
The bartender’s face was still unreadable, but his flames told a different story. They were an ice blue around the edges and even as Papyrus backed away from them, he could feel their heat as if he were inside a raging oven.
“G-Grillby, please, I…”
Papyrus’ back hit the wall as the bartender was suddenly on him. Grillby's blue tinged hand slammed into the wall beside his skull, making him flinch and the wood cinder.
“…He fucked you,” Grillby hissed. “Is that it? Is that what happened?”
Papyrus cowered under his overwhelming fury, bones trembling hard enough to rattle. Still, he found the courage to speak.
“N-No,” he said, forcing himself to meet his glare. “I fucked him .”
The way Grillby’s eyes widened behind his glasses would have been comical if the situation wasn’t so terrifying. For a clarifying moment, Papyrus knew for certain that he was going to die. Grillby was going to kill him and Papyrus wasn’t even going to try to stop him. It was an odd feeling. A strange sort of awareness where everything came down to a single moment in time. It was peculiar. The feeling felt familiar, almost like deja vu.
Then it was gone.
Grillby reached for his face, but didn’t touch him. His open fiery palm was a few inches from his cheek, but even from that distance, Papyrus winced in pain as the heat seeped through his cheekbone, heating up the marrow within.
Grillby closed his hand into a shaking fist and Papyrus shut his eyes, bracing for the blow.
The heat was gone, Grillby walking back towards the bar. He stopped mid-way the liquor cabinet and the door to the kitchen.
“…Get out. Don’t come back until I say.”
Of all the things Papyrus expected him to say, this wasn’t remotely close to one of them.
It felt like a trap.
“Please, let me…”
“GET OUT.” Grillby’s flames burst outward, licking the ceiling and leaving scorch marks.
The small explosion was enough to remind him of his will to live. Papyrus ran for the front door, not caring if anyone saw him. He slammed it shut behind him and collapsed in a heap against the doorstep, shaking badly, his soul pounding a mile a minute.
Snowdin's center square was empty, no trace of Sans or anyone for that matter. Just him and the falling snow.
Staring up at the darkness above, Papyrus didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
So he did both.
Sans really needs his hearing checked.
Also lay off the booze. Like seriously.
A breaking point is reached.
Tags for this chapter: Angst, Depression, Fontcest/Incest, Alcoholism, Fluff
Special thanks to idontevenknowugh for betaing this chapter! Thank you so much! <3
It's not dead. Hurrah!
Though there will be upcoming news for the future of this fic and this account in general. STAY TUNED!!
Thank you so much for your patience! Sorry for the wait. I hope you enjoy <3
A strip of light fell across the living room as Papyrus opened the door, illuminating a rather sad sight.
He wasn’t totally oblivious. Sans’ remarkable ability to hold his liquor wasn’t news to anybody. However, it had taken Papyrus months to realize his brother had been coming home every night for the past year heavily intoxicated. Even after drinking for hours, Sans never slurred his words and had near-perfect balance. It had been the little things adding up that gave him away in the end…
The way he kept apologizing.
How he continually lost his train of thought.
The constant morning migraines.
The stains on his clothes.
Still, Papyrus’ brother hid it extremely well under the pretense of lazy carelessness.
For Sans to be found lying face down on the carpet at only ten in the evening, he must have consumed an outrageous amount of alcohol.
Enough for Sans the Skeleton to confess to having sex with his brother to their local bartender of all monsters.
Sans, the one who never told anyone anything.
Sans, with the broken mystery machine in the basement.
Sans, with his secrets.
He couldn’t keep this secret.
He couldn’t keep his mouth shut the one time Papyrus really needed him to.
He couldn’t just wait for his traitorous brother at home and deal with him then, now could he?
No, that apparently was too much to ask.
Papyrus sighed, his shoulders sinking. He wasn’t being fair. This wasn’t Sans’ fault. Besides…
It was only a matter of time before Grillby found out.
Sprawled across the floor, his brother had missed the couch by mere inches. He didn’t even stir as Papyrus briefly approached him to reassure himself that Sans was only sleeping. Leaving Sans where he was, Papyrus climbed the stairs and made a short visit to his bedroom. He ripped Grillby’s clothes off his body, tearing several seams. He didn’t care. Papyrus had no intention of wearing them ever again. Stuffing their remnants under his mattress, he grabbed the first outfit he found from his dresser drawer and staggered to the bathroom. He stepped into the shower, turning the water on full, freezing blast. Under its spray, he pressed his back against the wall and slowly slid down the wet tile until he reached the floor, hugging his knees.
What was he going to do?
What was going to happen when Sans woke up?
What could Papyrus possibly say to him?
“SORRY, I TOOK ADVANTAGE OF YOU, BROTHER! I JUST WANTED TO FUCK YOU OH SO BADLY! I’M SURE YOU CAN UNDERSTAND. ACTUALLY, YOU SHOULD FEEL HONORED TO BE FUCKED BY ME, THE GREAT AND LOVABLE PAPYRUS! I AM, AFTER ALL, SO GREAT AND WONDERFUL! YOU’RE WELCOME!”
Papyrus cringed, gritting his teeth so hard they ached.
He couldn’t even begin to prepare for that conversation. Maybe he should just confess to everything. Grillby was bound to do it for him anyway as punishment for his betrayal. Papyrus had never seen him so furious before. He must have really hurt his feelings.
It was bizarre. After what had happened with Sans, Papyrus could understand Grillby’s motivation for what he’d done. He never wished to see things from his perspective before, but there it was…
If Grillby had been lonely and suffering, if he had really, really just wanted Papyrus as much as he had wanted Sans…They were really the same, weren’t they? How could he judge Grillby after what he himself had done and to his own brother no less?!
Papyrus covered his face, shoulders trembling.
The last thing he wanted to do right now was to sympathize with Grillby. But, as usual, what he wanted didn’t matter. Not anymore.
After an unknown amount of time soaking, Papyrus crawled over to the faucet and turned off the shower. Mindlessly, he dried off and got dressed in what he had brought with him: a jogging T-shirt and sweatpants. Once finished, he stood in the bathroom silently for a few minutes, not quite sure what to do next. Running away again seemed like a really good idea, but he couldn’t do that to Sans. He deserved an explanation.
Even when Papyrus had none.
Oh, he could tell him about Grillby and the drug he’d been forced to swallow, but those were just excuses. Grillby hadn’t ordered him to do what he had done. That was all on him. It would be a rather cowardly act to place the blame on anyone or anything else.
At a loss of what to do, but going quietly insane doing nothing, Papyrus found himself heading downstairs to the kitchen to cook something. Sans most likely hadn’t eaten dinner, or even breakfast or lunch. It wasn’t like he cooked for himself and there was only so much nutrition found in his brother’s hot dogs. Passing through the living room, Papyrus was relieved to find Sans still unconscious. He was almost tempted to pick him up and put him to bed properly, but the immense fear of Sans waking up in his arms kept Papyrus from approaching him.
He wasn’t ready. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready, but it was inevitable.
Sans had to wake up eventually.
Right as he set a pot of water down on the stove to boil, he heard a faint groan from the living room. “Ugh…Wha? Fuck… My skull…”
Papyrus froze, panic blooming in his soul as he wrung his trembling hands. Any moment now, Sans was going to come into the kitchen and…and...
Papyrus didn’t have the faintest idea what his brother was going to say. Nothing good, he imagined. No, there was no doubt about that. What came next was going to be excruciating.
“Papyrus!” Sans sounded almost excited and immensely relieved. “There you are! I looked everywhere for you!”
Terrified of what his brother was about to say next, Papyrus spat out the first words that came to mind.
“G-GOOD EVENING, BROTHER!” he exclaimed as cheerfully as possible. “DINNER WILL BE READY SOON, SO WHY DON’T YOU HEAD UPSTAIRS AND WASH UP! I WILL NOT TOLERATE GRIMY BONES AT THE TABLE!”
Papyrus cringed at his own voice. It was a poor attempt. So bad that he wished he could sink into the floor and avoid Sans’ bewildered stare and his demands for answers. He expected him to be confused, angry or even annoyed with Papyrus’ lack of tact.
What he didn’t expect was total silence.
A few seconds ticked by without a single response. Papyrus glanced over his shoulder nervously to see what was wrong. Sans appeared confused, yes, but there was a sharp edge of fear and panic to his gaze that was completely unlike him. His brother glanced frantically about, as if his surroundings were frightening and unknown and he was desperately searching for something…
Finally, his gaze locked onto Papyrus and his eye-lights widened.
“No, no, no!” Sans pointed a trembling finger in his direction. “You’re not wearing your battle body! That’s new!”
Papyrus blinked and looked down at his own chest. “UM. TRUE. I-I…I DECIDED TO LET IT REST FOR A DAY OR TWO. BUT I’LL PUT IT ON LATER. I-I CAN’T BE CAUGHT UNPREPARED, OF COURSE! N-NYEH HEH H-HEH!”
He faced the stove again and continued to act like nothing had changed. Like it had all just been a terrible nightmare that was over and now things could go back to how they used to be. Maybe Sans could give him this one act of mercy - the gift of more time. Papyrus would own up to what he had done. He would. He really would! But it was too much right now. His soul was pounding so hard he could hardly breathe.
Inside, he was begging. Please, let them have one more night of normalcy, just one more. It was the only thing he desperately wanted in that moment. A break. Mercy.
Papyrus was staring hard at the ingredients on the kitchen counter, the items blurring in and out of focus, when the brief silence that followed his words was finally shattered by a sound that hit him like shards of glass lacing his spine.
Soft, broken laughter.
Trembling hard enough to rattle, Papyrus turned around, forcing himself to look at his brother. Despite how much of a comic he claimed to be, Sans didn’t laugh often. Maybe a chuckle here or there, but hardly even that. He rarely showed much emotion at all for the most part, save for the permanent grin that hadn’t been sincere in ages.
So seeing him now, cracking up, with a hand pressed against his eye sockets, put a sense of dread in Papyrus’ quivering soul.
“…I see,” Sans muttered, his laughter gone as if it hadn’t been there at all. “I get it now. Okay, Papyrus. Was that it? Was that it?” He sounded as insane as Papyrus felt. “Ya know, if you wanted to just pretend like nothing happened...I would have been fine with that. Really, I would. But…ya know…ya know…if you were just gonna do that…if…if you were just gonna regret it…ya know you…you didn’t have to… I wasn’t that fucked up…”
His brother’s voice began to crack, the words coming out shaky. “I didn’t need… You didn’t have to…”
“…S…Sans?” Papyrus whispered, voice faint.
A tear escaped from under his brother’s hand, tracing the contour of his cheek. “…I didn’t… I didn’t need a pity fuck!! I…I really didn’t… God fucking damnit. I know I’m fucking gross. I know! So...so you didn’t have to…”
Sans dropped his hand, jamming it into his jacket’s pockets. He wouldn’t even look in Papyrus’ direction. “Whatever, just... I can’t do this.” His voice dropped to nearly a whisper and Papyrus could barely hear him. “I can’t keep pretending anymore. I just...can’t. …I’m out. Later, bro.”
His brother turned his back and Papyrus could already tell that he was moments away from vanishing out of thin air.
Sans was leaving.
Sans was going away, probably for good.
Of course he was.
Why would he come back?
Sans was gone.
He lost him.
A loud muffled thump reached his hearing from what sounded like miles away. He couldn’t breathe. His soul burned. Distantly, he was aware of his knees and elbows aching from the sudden impact with the floor, but the pain was overshadowed by the agony in his chest. It felt like both his mind and soul were shattering, his body tingling and freezing over.
He couldn’t breathe.
Was he dying?
“Paps! Bro! Papyrus, can you hear me?!”
Papyrus wheezed, gasping for the air his soul desperately needed. His head was bent between his knees, arms and legs growing cold and numb as he folded into himself.
“Shit! Bro, look at me. Just look at me, can you do that? Can you do that for me? Please?”
Sans already felt miles away. Papyrus choked on a sob, tears silently streaking his face.
He lost him, he lost him…
The only one who really cared, who read him stories and listen to his dreams and encouraged him to go after them, and…and...
Papyrus lost the last good thing in his life.
And it was all his fault.
“Papyrus, please.” Sans was closer now, his voice pressing insistently against his skull. “You have to look at me. You have to breathe, come on.”
Papyrus lifted his head, trying to do as he was asked. His brother’s face wobbled in and out of focus, and his chest felt like it was caught in a vice. Sans’ sockets knit together in worry as he reached out for Papyrus’ face, but stopped before actually touching him.
“There you go, Paps,” Sans said, locking eyes with him. “Now breathe. Come on, deep breaths.”
Sans took some of his own to demonstrate, inhaling and exhaling dramatically. Papyrus did his best to copy him, trying to slow the pounding of his soul. His vision was still blurred, but his breathing got easier.
“…N-Not,” Papyrus gasped out as soon as the tension in his chest eased enough for him to speak. “…Not…p-pity…”
Sans’ eye-lights widened. “What?”
Papyrus shook his head fiercely. “Not…N-Not a…pity fuck…Sans…”
Sans may as well know the truth before he left forever. If his brother was going to hate him, he should at least hate him for the right reason.
“P-Paps?” Sans expression faltered, before it settled on a deeply concerned expression, eye-lights burrowing into Papyrus’. “F-forget it. It’s not important. Come on, bro. …Are you feeling better?”
Papyrus took a few more deep breaths and shook his head again.
It was important!
“N-Not…Not pity. …I …I really…really w-w-wanted to...with you… God, S-Sans... Sans, I’m so sorry…”
The moment he was able to breathe properly once more, he burst into hard, wrenching sobs, burying his face into his hands.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!”
Papyrus cried and cried, still on his knees on the kitchen tile as his chest rattled loudly. Sans didn’t say anything, unmoving from where he was crouched in front of him. After a moment, Papyrus felt a gentle tugging on his wrists, Sans finally touching him as he pulled his hands away from his face. Papyrus sniffed, tears still dripping off his chin as he meet his brother’s gaze.
Sans smiled sadly. “It’s okay, Paps. It’s okay.”
Papyrus shook his head free from Sans’ grip fiercely. “No, it’s not! It’s not! STOP SAYING THAT! I’M THE WORST! I’M HORRIBLE! HOW COULD I HAVE DONE THAT TO—”
His words were cut off as Sans flung both arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug.
“Stop it, Paps! Just…just stop!”
Papyrus found himself frozen in his brother’s embrace, taking wet, shallow breaths.
Sans pressed his mouth against the side of his skull, grip tightening as he whispered, “…I wanted it too.”
Papyrus sat, dumbfounded, not sure he had heard correctly. “…What?”
Sans pulled back from the hug, but kept their faces close. His brother’s cheeks were flushed, eye-lights flicking nervously, searching his face.
Sans took a steadying breath, still with his heartbreakingly sad smile.“You…you didn’t do anything that I didn’t want.”
As if to prove it, Sans cupped Papyrus’ face and pulled him into a kiss, pressing their teeth together.
Papyrus couldn’t breathe again, but the paralyzing panic in his body was draining away. He found himself pressing against Sans’ mouth, grabbing his brother’s wrists. He squeezed them, feeling the rigid bones under his grip. This was...real?
When Sans pulled back, there were tears in his sockets and a wobbly grin on his face. “I…I didn’t know… I thought…I thought you found out how I felt and were disgusted by me. That’s...that’s why you’ve been acting so…”
Papyrus shook his head quickly, realizing what his brother was saying. “No! No, never! I…I didn’t… Sans, you…you…you wanted…that?”
Sans blushed deeper, glancing to the side and seemed to shrink a little in embarrassment and shame. He gave a little nod.
Papyrus was stunned. “But…But I…I didn’t ask if you…I just…”
Sans frowned thoughtfully. “Okay. Yes, that…that part was a bit scary. It wasn’t really like you. But Paps, you didn’t do anything I didn’t want. I wanted it. Probably more than you actually.”
Unless Sans had also been under the effects of a hellish, intoxicating substance, Papyrus highly doubted that. The way he had acted... he couldn’t understand how Sans was able to stand him right now, be able to touch him, be around him.
His disbelief must have shown on his face because Sans winced. “Shit, Paps. I’m sorry… If I'd known it would affect you like this, I would have stopped you. I'm sorry.”
Papyrus stared at him. Why on earth was his brother apologizing?
Again, his confusion must have been apparent. Sans placed a hand over Papyrus’ chest directly above his soul, fingertips curling around his ribs through the fabric of his shirt. Papyrus was suddenly hit with the memory of Sans doing something similar the night before when they...
“Papyrus, I would have stopped you,” Sans whispered.
A sharp ‘ping!’ sliced through the air as an icy chill ran down Papyrus’ spine. His body was pulled down by an invisible weight and he sank further against the kitchen floor. Sans held him up, but he only needed to for a second. The effects faded as quickly as they appeared, his brother dismissing them. Sans glanced away again, his face still a bright color.
“…But I…I couldn’t. I… It was my wildest dream come true. I wasn’t even sure if it was real, or a dream that I didn’t want to wake up from. It was...really hot. …I’m sorry, Papyrus. I should have known it would wreck you like this. I should’ve stopped you. We should have talked first.”
Papyrus felt faint. He wasn’t sure how to feel anymore, but it seemed like...Sans wasn’t going to leave anymore?
“You…You don’t hate me?” Papyrus whispered, leaning heavily against his brother’s shoulder. Sans shook his head, kissing the side of Papyrus skull. “Of course not. I could never hate you, Paps. You’re too amazing.”
Papyrus burst into tears again and clung to him, overwhelmed with relief. Even if Sans didn’t know the full, ugly truth about how low his "amazing" brother had fallen, he’d accept this one small blessing after an endless stream of curses. Sans didn’t hate him and that’s all that mattered in that one, single moment.
They sat together in silence for a handful of minutes. Sans quietly held him, letting him cry as he caressed the top of Papyrus’ spine and the base of his skull in a soothing gesture. His brother kept him close even after the tears tapered off. Papyrus didn’t mind, pressing into the welcomed embrace. It was the first wanted touch he had received in days.
“So, is this why you’ve been acting so weird lately?” Sans asked, breaking the silence. “You realized you wanted to…do these things with me?”
Papyrus nodded, wiping his wet sockets against his brother’s jacket. It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the only reason. He didn’t even know if keeping his relationship with Grillby a secret mattered anymore. Especially since Grillby might tell Sans anyway. Still, he kept silent.
The only thing Papyrus was certain of was that he wanted Sans to be okay. He wanted Sans to not look at him in disgust. He wanted his brother’s careless smiles and quiet, unrelenting admiration. Papyrus was done hurting him. It was a miracle everything had turned out this way to begin with. The rest could wait.
Sans had let out a breathless chuckle at his nod, tightening the embrace. “I thought…I thought you were grossed out by me. I thought you hated me, but...felt obligated to… …God, I’m such an idiot.”
“Don’t…don’t say that, Sans,” Papyrus whispered, voice hoarse from crying so much. “I…I wasn’t honest with you.” He still wasn’t. “So it only makes sense that…misunderstandings happened…”
“I guess...still… ...Papyrus, are you feeling okay?” Sans shifted, trying to get a better look at him. Papyrus felt weak all of a sudden, making it difficult to support even his own weight without Sans to lean on. “You’re still shaking. When was the last time you ate?”
Papyrus didn’t have the energy to make up a convincing excuse. “I…I’m not sure…”
“Come on. Let's get something in you. Maybe take a nap. You look exhausted.”
It was a testament to how drained he was that Papyrus didn’t protest as Sans helped him to his feet. It wasn’t easy with Sans being much shorter and lacking any real upper body strength, so Papyrus shifted some of his weight back on his own legs to help. His knees shook, threatening to give under the burden of his heavy bones. Sans must have noticed, quickly helping him over to the kitchen table and into a chair before he collapsed again. Papyrus slumped down gratefully, laying his head down against his arms on the tabletop, focused only on breathing.
A minute later, Sans was pushing a glass of milk into his hands. “I can make you something more filling if you like. Maybe some oatmeal?”
Papyrus shook his head, raising his face as his invisible stomach churned at the thought, though the milk looked immensely refreshing. “This is good enough. Thank you.”
Sans smiled faintly, though it was obvious he was worried. Papyrus emptied the glass in two gulps to help put his brother's concerns to rest and handed it back to him. As Sans took the dish to the sink, Papyrus rested his head back against the table, still light headed.
Was he getting sick? It would be a first for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he came down with something...
Sans returned, running a hand over the back of his shoulder-blades. “Come on. Let’s get you to your room, okay?”
Papyrus forced himself to sit up and was suddenly reminded of something.
“Don't you have a hangover?” he asked, chest tightening with guilt. “Your skull must be killing you.”
“No big deal,” Sans answered easily, helping him back to his feet. “I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle. Though…" He winced, letting his fatigue and pain show for a brief moment. "I really did overdo it last night.”
....All because Papyrus forced sex on him and then disappeared without a word for an entire day. Of course Sans drank till he lost consciousness. Of course he had been worried.
Papyrus really was the absolute worst.
Some of his guilt must have shown on his face as Sans shot him a stern look. “Hey, quit it. It’s not your fault I’m…” He trailed off, looking as if even he didn’t know how that sentence ended. “…Anyways, let's get you in bed. When was the last time you slept?”
As Papyrus tried to remember, Sans teleported them to his bedroom. He swayed where he stood as they popped back into existence, the sudden shift in location making him dizzy.
“Um…Not sure,” Papyrus finally replied, voice still raspy. “Been…busy.”
It wasn’t the first time Papyrus had spent a few days without sleep. Insomnia was an old companion of his, but mostly due to having too much energy, wanting to do so much, and make all the friends. It really was because he was too busy.
That had never been a lie.
But now, he also couldn’t get his mind to shut off. Even with Grillby far away and the worst of it behind him, he couldn’t...relax.
“Yeah, yeah, come on,” Sans said, pulling back the bed sheets.
Papyrus sat down on edge of the bed, bones trembling faintly. His chest ached, his soul fluttering like a flame about to go out beneath his ribs. He didn’t want to sleep, but was too dazed to argue. Besides, he wanted to put Sans at ease.
As he laid down on his side against his pillow, Sans brought the blankets up to his collarbone. Papyrus was terrified that his brother would leave the room and was about so say something when Sans surprised him by kicking off his slippers and climbing into bed behind him. He sat against the headboard, turned slightly so he faced Papyrus’ back.
“Do you think a story will help?” he asked gently, rubbing Papyrus’ upper arm.
“I don’t know, brother. It didn’t work very well last time,” Papyrus whispered, staring at the wall across the room. While reassured by the gentle pressure at his back, he knew it was only a matter of time before this too-good-to-be-true dream ended. Probably with Grillby at their doorstep, or with Sans realizing how despicable his brother actually was and would be gone when Papyrus woke up in the morning.
“Well…probably ‘cause it was the wrong story,” Sans suggested. “Let's try something else.”
Papyrus shrugged, unable to bring himself to care. It was strange. He’d never felt this bad before. It wasn’t like him and it didn’t make any sense. Sans was still with him. He didn’t hate him and wasn’t leaving. So why?
What was this…heaviness? This ache that he couldn’t even bring forth the effort to try to shake off? Usually, if he had a bad day, he’d find a way. After all, being miserable wasn’t very admirable. He had to be a good example for others. If all monsters despaired, then…
But he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Sans leaned over Papyrus’ shoulder, his brother’s chest pressing against his back through the comforter.
“Once upon a time, there was a fluffy little bunny,” Sans began softly, his fingers stroking Papyrus’ skull. “Who was afraid of shadows.”
Papyrus frowned a little, but leaned back against his brother’s solid ribs, the warmth of Sans’ soul seeping through the fabric that divided them. This was a new one. He had memorized every fluffy bunny book they owned, but none of them started this way.
“Shadows from trees stretched across the grass,” his brother continued in a low, soothing voice. “Their swaying branches like clawed hands reaching out to catch him. …Shadows from the barn that seemed to eat up the entire field, like a hungry giant with a bottomless appetite. …Even the shadows from the humans, who tended the carrots he loved to eat, frightened him. They danced as the humans worked, watching his every move. But the scariest shadow of them all...was his own. Always right behind him, chasing him, waiting to gobble him up when he least expected it.”
Papyrus’ sockets grew heavy as he pictured the scene his brother painted. It wasn’t a very nice one, but the feeling felt familiar.
“Fluffy bunny was so frightened that he refused to leave the burrow to play,” Sans continued, voice pitched low and soft. “He’d rather just stay inside where it was safe. …But his older brother noticed. ‘Come out, bro. The sun is shining and the birds are singing. It’s a beautiful day outside.’
“‘I don’t care. It’s too scary out there,’ Fluffy bunny replied.
“But his brother smiled and said, ‘Come on. I’ll show you something that’ll put all your fears to rest.’”
“That doesn’t rhyme,” Papyrus murmured.
Sans chuckled. “Hey, give me a break. It’s not easy.”
“But silly puns are?”
“Heh, at least I know you’re listening,” Sans pointed out. “Anyway, fluffy bunny’s curiosity got the better of him. He left the safety of his room timidly. ‘What is it, brother?’ he asked.”
Papyrus’ eye-sockets fell shut, his breathing deep and even as Sans continued to pet him. “Fluffy bunny trembled with fear right at the edge of the borrow. The sun was high in the sky, the neighboring oak trees casting large, dark shadows across the ground. It was as scary as ever and his brother was nowhere to be seen.
“He called out for him. ‘Brother?’"
Even though it was only an image in his mind, Papyrus felt his soul clench as if were happening right in front of him. The poor terrified bunny, unable to even leave his own front door, but wanting to be with his brother. It wasn’t fair. They should be together. Where was he?
“‘From somewhere outside, his brother returned his call,” Sans continued softly. “‘It’s okay, bro. I’m right here.’ Trusting his big brother, Fluffy bunny closed his eyes and jumped!”
Sans paused for dramatic effect and Papyrus held his breath, shutting his eye sockets tightly.
Sans’ fingers never stopped stroking his skull. The warmth of his touch eased Papyrus’ tension as soon as it appeared. Despite his fear, he trusted Sans and knew fluffy bunny would be okay.
…He had to be.
Sans spoke again, his voice soft and comforting. “Fluffy bunny’s soft paws landed on the cold wet grass and after one terrifying moment, where birds chirped and a cool breeze blew past, his heart swelled with happiness. He did it! He was outside! But he kept his eyes closed, too scared of what he might see if he opened them.
“’Brother?’ he called.
“’It’s okay,” his brother said. There was a heavy thump right beside him, something large and warm pressing close. ‘I’m right here.’
“Fluffy bunny opened one eye…and then the other. The first thing he noticed was that there were no shadows. It was cool and dark, even though it was the middle of the day. Even fluffy bunny’s own shadow was nowhere to be seen. It was completely covered up by the shade. With a start, fluffy bunny realized it wasn’t that there were no more shadows. He was standing in one! A big one! His big brother was standing right beside him, his soft body blocking out the sun’s rays and casting his shadow over him. But instead of being afraid, fluffy bunny looked up at his brother’s face and was calm. With his brother so close, he knew nothing bad could ever happen to him.”
Papyrus let out a sigh and the last remaining tension in his body melted away. He nuzzled against the pillow, listening to his brother’s voice as he drifted.
“It seemed so silly now to be afraid,” Sans said in a whisper. “After all, he had his big brother to take care of the scary shadows for him. Since that day, fluffy bunny was never afraid of shadows ever again, and he and his brother lived happily ever after. The end.”
Papyrus heard the last words from far, far away. As he faded further into sleep, for one precious moment, he forgot all his worries, all his fears. Every bad thing seemed impossibly small and insignificant, unworthy of his attention.
Everything was okay.
Because, despite everything…
He had Sans.
Sans and Papyrus begin to work things out.
Is the nightmare finally over?
Tags for this chapter: Angst, Noncon References/Imagery, Fontcest/Incest, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff? Sorta?
I won't lie. I just needed this up, so I barely edited it. CAUSE F-it! I apologize for any glaring errors @_@
Also LOOK! I LIVE! THE FIC LIVES!!! HAHAHHAAHHA
Enjoy the update. Sorry it took so bloody long @_@
Papyrus opened his eyes, still in bed.
It was empty.
He lifted his head, searching for any sign of his brother. He didn’t find any. Pure dread filled his soul as he carefully sat up.
“S-Sans?” he called, his voice barely a whisper.
Noticing the bedroom door was ajar, Papyrus forced himself to get out of bed and cross the room, stepping out into the hallway. He moved slowly and with difficulty, as if trudging through sludge. The rest of the house was silent and dark, dimly lit by the faint lights outside the windows. Papyrus slid his palms across the walls as he made his way downstairs, searching for a light switch. He found the one by the foot of the stairs, flipping it on and off, but the room remained dark.
A clatter in the kitchen made him jump.
“B-Brother?” he called again, his voice quieter than he intended. “I-Is that you?”
Of course it was Sans. Who else could it be? Why was he being so silly?
But he couldn’t help it. Somehow, he knew something was wrong. He could feel it. Something was waiting for him in the kitchen. Something awful. It was the same trembling, soul crushing fear he felt ever time he pushed open Grillby’s bedroom door.
But it didn’t matter. Not then and not now.
He kept moving towards his inevitable fate.
Papyrus shuffled across the living room floor and stood a few feet from the kitchen’s entrance, squinting through the gloom, making out a dark shape. The short, square-shouldered silhouette could only be his brother’s. He was hunched over the table, back facing Papyrus. He was visibly shaking.
“Sans…?” Papyrus choked out.
For a moment, his brother’s shoulders stilled, tensed and raised.
“…H-How…” Sans’ voice was quiet and cracked. Broken. His shoulders began shaking again, this time more visibly than before. “H-how…c-c-could you…?”
Papyrus took a half step closer, his soul twisting high in his throat. He opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was disintegrated the moment his brother turned around and faced him. The darkness seemed to retreat, the room brightening just barely enough for Papyrus to see the scene in from him.
Sans was naked, bare bones still rattling softly in the gloom, hugging himself tightly.
A trickle of luminescent fluid stained his brother’s thighs, the glow of Papyrus’ magic unmistakable from this distance.
“W-Why?” Sans sobbed. His eyes were empty black holes, cold, lifeless. “What…did I do?”
“S-Sans…” Papyrus felt all his excuses rise up to his tongue, where they stayed, useless. “I…I’m…so sorry.”
Papyrus flinched. Sans never yelled. Never so much as raised his voice, even when Papyrus deserved it. It sounded strange. Surreal.
“Sans…please,” he begged, unable to stop himself.
He took one step forward and froze in his tracks by his brother’s expression.
“STAY AWAY!” he screeched, his face distorted in anger, terror and misery.
And with that, he was gone. Disappearing without a trace, leaving Papyrus all alone in the empty house, in the dark.
“…It’s your fault, Papyrus.” A familiar voice whispered. “You asked for it. You asked for ALL of it. You wanted it. …Didn’t you? Papyrus? Didn’t you?!”
Papyrus gasped as a scorching heat shot through him, engulfing him from the inside out. Looking down, he watched as his clothes burned away, ash fluttering in the air like moths. Fire filled his rib cage. Filled his pelvis, devouring his pubic bone, and wrapped around his spine, spiraling from his tailbone all the way to the back of his neck, licking across his bones with a searing pain.
The flames had spread. The entire house was on fire. Flames ran up the walls, across the ceiling, taking the furniture, dancing, laughing…
Laughing at his pathetic screams, laughing as his legs crumbled to dust and he fell to the burning ground.
The flames laughed a familiar laugh as Papyrus was incinerated to nothing.
Papyrus woke up screaming.
He sat bolt upright, throwing off the blanket as if it were the flames that had been engulfing him, scrambling away until his back hit the headboard, screaming and screaming and screaming. It wasn’t until a pair of arms flung around him in a tight hug and he comprehended the words that were being pressed against his skull did he stop flailing.
“Papyrus! Papyrus, it’s okay! It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s okay, Papyrus. Shhh. I’m here, I’m here…”
The moment he recognized his brother’s voice, he turned towards him, pulling Sans into his arms, burying his face against his brother’s shirt. Sans was okay. Sans was okay and Papyrus was okay. The house was okay. There was no fire. He was alive and okay and Sans was still here and he didn’t hate him, and…and…he could feel him against his chest, warm and alive, soul pulsing with concern and love and—
Papyrus shoved Sans away, turning away as he hugged himself tightly and struggled to calm his breathing. His brother had released him immediately, but kept close, still brimming with worry. Papyrus could feel his confused and hurt stare, but didn’t say anything.
Papyrus couldn’t help it, his soul pounding in his chest. He didn’t deserve to be with Sans like that again… He had lost that privilege.
They sat together in silence as the hammering of Papyrus’ soul finally slowed and he managed to calm down, gripping the edges of the bed to ground himself back to reality.
They were in his bedroom, in his house, safe from everything except his nightmares.
“…So,” Sans finally said, breaking the silence. “…I was thinking.”
Papyrus still didn’t dare look at him, terrified of what he’d find on his brother’s face. He tilted his head, however, wanting him to know he was listening.
Sans shifted, sitting beside him, their knees touching as their legs hung off the side of the bed. Only Papyrus’ feet touched the floor.
“We could do this properly if you’d like,” Sans said softly. “I mean, if you want to.”
Papyrus frowned and finally turned his head to look at him. “I don’t understand. Properly?”
“Yeah,” Sans said, his face cracking into a tiny smile as he avoided making eye contact. “Ya know, like a date.”
Papyrus blinked. Sans was red across the cheeks, glancing at the wall as he rubbed the back of his neck. It finally dawned on Papyrus that Sans still believed it was their inappropriate feelings for each other that was the source of Papyrus’ nightmares, of his distress.
Was that the case for Sans? When he tossed and turned and woke up in the middle of the night, did it all stem from his illicit feelings for his brother?
After all this time, was that the reason for his misery? Was Papyrus the source of it all?
“A date?” Papyrus repeated, the word finally sinking in. “Wait. Sans, are you…flirting with me?”
Sans’ entire face became a block of solid red and Papyrus felt his mouth twitch into a smile. It was kind of funny looking, seeing his brother this embarrassed.
“N-Not…really…” Oh stars, Sans was actually stammering. “Just…y-ya know…I know you have that book and…I t-thought maybe…maybe if we went on a date, you’d…feel better about this, I don’t know. Plus, I always kinda wanted to, if you were okay with it, I mean, if you want to I mean…”
Sans was rambling. He never rambled. Papyrus felt himself smile a bit more despite himself, the heaviness in his soul easing to make way for something lighter, almost like amusement at his brother’s flustered face. It was such a rare sight. Papyrus must have been tiny the last time he’d seen Sans this nervous.
Papyrus’ soul then started to race at the thought of a date. His first TRUE date! Sure, it was with Sans, but who cares! He’d never been on a date before, never been asked…and besides, wasn’t that how it was supposed to go? The proper way? The nice way?
Could he make this right? Make it up to his brother, somehow?
Remarkably, impossibly, there was hope…
“Oh, yes! Papyrus said immediately, focusing on that tiny spark. “I’d love to go on a date!!”
Relief visibly washed over his brother’s face and the sight put Papyrus even more at ease. Yes, this was the right thing to do.
“Okay.” Sans got to his feet, turning to him with his hands spread. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take of anything.”
Papyrus’ smile fell off his face. “Are you leaving now?”
“Well, I gotta make some plans. And…I really think you should skip training today and get some more rest,” Sans said, open concern on his face. “I know, I know you hate that word. But do this for me. Call Undyne and tell her you’ll be back to training tomorrow, okay? Think of it as a full day for our date. We gotta do it right, okay?”
When Sans mentioned Undyne, Papyrus realized he hadn’t been the best “Royal Guard in Training” lately or even a good one at all this past week. In fact, didn’t he completely skip training yesterday? Yet, the very idea of going to training right now was very unappealing. Smashing fresh ingredients into submission no longer seemed important. At all. Nothing did anymore.
Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded. “Alright, Sans. I’ll postpone my training…just this one time.” Sans didn’t have to know he had missed yesterday. Didn’t have to know that a part of Papyrus was immensely relieved that Grillby gave him very clear and specific instructions to stay away from him. For the first time in a while, he had control over his life again and he didn’t want to think about the details.
Sans sighed heavily, obviously relieved Papyrus didn’t put up the fight he had been expecting. “Great. Alright, you do that. I’ll be right back.”
Papyrus watched Sans walk out the door with a slight twist in his soul. He hated it. Hated how the fear rose up the moment Sans left the room. It wasn’t even because he was scared that any minute Grillby could walk in and dish out the punishment he was obviously brewing for him. No, there was another fear. With Sans out and about, he could run into Grillby himself. He could find out. Everything.
Papyrus wanted Sans to never leave his side if it meant he could prevent him from knowing.
But that was ridiculous.
Papyrus took a deep breath and tried to get excited. Sans was taking him out on a date! That WAS exciting! It was supposed to be anyways…
But first, he had to call Undyne and let her know he wouldn’t be arriving for training that day.
He hoped she took it well.
“Geez, don’t scare me like that! At least answer your phone if you were planning on standing me up!”
Papyrus could practically feel the noogie through the phone, but he could tell she wasn’t angry. Or at least he hoped not. It was hard to tell sometimes with her.
“I’m so sorry! It’ll never happen again! I’ll tape my phone to my body. It’ll never leave my side again.”
Papyrus had intentionally turned off his phone whenever he was at Grillby’s, terrified it would ring while…
“Good! Maybe I’ll resist knocking some sense into you later today.”
“Oh. Y-yes, about that…”
“YOU SKIPPING OUT ON ME AGAIN?!”
“Papyrus. Hey, seriously. Are you okay? You really haven’t been yourself lately. Is everything alright?”
“Oh, I h-haven’t?”
“Look, if you need some time off, get your skull straight, that’s fine. You can lounge around and watch MY AMAZING COOKING SKILLS AND LEARN FROM A REAL MASTER! But yeah, no. No pressure or anything. Really.”
The fact that Undyne, of all people, was suggesting that he took it easy, Papyrus had to wonder just how poorly he'd been acting. Yet at the same time he almost hoped she suggested that they stopped training altogether for a while.
The idea startled him.
How could something that had mattered so much just a week ago, now suddenly become such a burden? So much was going on and, no…no it still mattered. Somewhere inside, under all the stress and… It was still there. The desire to be somebody. To be popular. To have friends. To be…
“WHAT! THAT’S NONSENSE!” he found himself yelling into the phone. “I’LL BE THERE BRIGHT AND EARLY TOMORROW! YOU CAN COUNT ON ME, THE GREATEST ROYAL GUARD IN TRAINING EVER! NYEH HEH HEH!”
There was a brief silence on the other line before the sound of Undyne holding back a laugh broke it. “NOW THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT! Good to hear ya acting like yourself again. I want that same fighting spirit at my doorstep tomorrow, you got it?!!”
Papyrus hung up and stared at the phone in his hand, not really sure how to feel, not even sure what he was feeling.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Undyne again…it was just…
He didn’t know what he was doing anymore, what he wanted anymore. He desperately wished things were back to the way they were before he walked into Grillby’s that night, wished he had never stepped through those doors at all. Not going to training was not something he’d do before. He wanted to go, even when he actually didn’t, just to return a bit of normalcy into his life, a shadow of what it was like before. But he wasn’t even sure if he could make good on what he promised Undyne.
There was a text waiting for him. It was from Sans.
“Don’t worry about breakfast. I got it covered. Why don’t you go ahead and wash up before our BIG DATE? I have a feeling you’ll be considerabubbly pleased by my arrangements.”
Papyrus found himself grinning at the pun and, for a change, he didn’t hate himself for it. At least Sans was starting to act like himself again. Even better since it’s been a while since Sans had been this relaxed, this...himself.
At least one of them could be. It was a good sign, right? Something finally heading in the right direction for once.
Papyrus blinked when he entered the bathroom.
There was a bathtub waiting for him inside, full to the brim with warm water and fragrant bubbles. The usual shower stall was gone without a trace, replaced as if it had never existed. He shook it off quickly enough, knowing his brother well enough that he knew it would have been pointless to ask.
Besides, he wasn’t complaining. The scene had the air of one of Sans’ inter-dimensional pranks and Papyrus savored it. If only he could just forget the past. Today would have been up there as one of his favorite days. Almost as good as when they went to the costume party not to long ago.
But thoughts like those were didn’t change anything.
Papyrus got undressed cautiously, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden despite the fact he was alone. In fact, it was even more so because he was alone. It was a strange feeling. The fear of being found like this. Vulnerable. Exposed.
Papyrus quickly slipped into the bath, submerging his bones under the bubbles, hiding them from sight. It was warm, and smelled of cinnamon bunnies fresh out of the oven. Sans must have bought the soap from the store in town. He closed his eyes, resting the back of his neck against the smooth porcelain. Slowly, gradually, the stress eased out of his shoulders as he relaxed bit by bit. He didn’t bother with actual bathing, just savoring the warm comfort of the water and its soothing scent for as long as he could.
He wished he could stretch out this one moment forever.
There was a knock on the door. “Hey, bro. Can I come in for a sec?”
Papyrus hesitated, feeling the tension return. He sat up and nodded before he realized Sans couldn’t see him. “Yes, come in.”
Sans cracked the door a sliver before finally slipping inside with a towel. “Hey. Just making sure you got a towel. I think I accidentally misplaced the one that was already in here,” he said casually as he set the towel on he dry bathroom sink, before carefully looking at anywhere but at him in the bath. “So…Um, you good? Enough bubbles?’
Papyrus felt his mouth twitch into a smile, feeling a rush of nostalgia. He’d reprimanded his brother on more than one occasion when they were still baby bones for the insufficient amount of bath bubbles in the bath, which of course was Sans responsibility for some reason. Often it ended up with the entire bathroom full of suds and they’d have to swim their way out. It was one of his favorite childhood memories.
Interesting. Yes, they did have a bathtub at some point, didn’t they? When did they get a shower?
“Yes, Sans,” he said, realizing he hadn’t replied. “Very...satisfactory.”
“Ah, good,” his brother said, slowly backing towards the door. “I’ll leave you alone then…”
“Wait.” Papyrus couldn’t wait, couldn’t pretend. Couldn’t just act like everything was honky-dory now.
“Sans...can you...is it okay if…?”
Sans finally looked at him, his face the picture of worry to the point that Papyrus blushed in embarrassment. Was he really acting so worryingly that Mr. Lazybones who never cared about anything or took anything seriously was THIS openly concerned?
Papyrus cleared his throat and tried again with more confidence. “Sans. I’d like to talk, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh.” Sans glanced to the side, his hands slipping immediately into his pockets. “Like, right now?”
Sans hesitated, as if debating refusing, before he sighed and ambled over to sit on the floor. He pressed his back against the side of the tub, making it impossible for Papyrus to see his face, which must have been his intention. The back of Sans’ skull barely rose past the rim.
“Okay. ...What do you wanna talk about?”
Papyrus felt that was such a ridiculously obvious question that he didn’t bother to answer it. Instead he watched his own fingers skim over the sudsy water, pushing all the bubbles together into a mountain of soapy foam.
The silence went on for a moment, as his brother didn’t seem all that eager to poke at Papyrus for clarification.
Finally, Sans sighed again. “You know...it’s been so weird with you being so quiet. I don’t know why I didn’t notice sooner...how quiet you’ve gotten…”
“Sans, since when did you...start having feelings for me?” Papyrus asked bluntly, since it was obvious Sans was going to keep skirting the issue till the end of time.
Papyrus glanced at his brother’s shoulders, watching as they tensed up, rising to either side of his jaw. “Come on, Papyrus. Does it really matter?””
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Papyrus whispered, feeling a wave of resentment and anger rising inside. It was misdirected. This wasn’t Sans’ fault. But he was such an easy target. It was just so tempting.
Sans flinched as if Papyrus had yelled. “Well...that’s kinda obvious, isn’t it? We’re brothers… I...practically raised you.”
“Yes, we’re family. Doesn’t that mean we should be honest with one another?”
As he said it, the resentment tightened into guilt, sinking like a heavy stone to the pit of his soul. Who was he to judge? And yet, he had to know.
Sans sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“How long have you felt this way?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I told you why.”
“We could have talked about it. It would have been easier to talk than keep it a secret all these years,” Papyrus said, not caring he was being hypocritical. He just wanted to understand. “You never tell me anything and look where it’s gotten us…”
“Paps, you say that…”
“You know it’s true! Look how easy it is talking about it now.”
“You think this is easy?! You didn’t tell me either, by the way.”
“Don’t change the subject!” Papyrus snapped, slapping the water, splashing some to the floor.
Sans flinched again and Papyrus inwardly hit himself. He forced himself to calm down, taking several deep, calming breaths. It wasn’t Sans fault. It wasn’t. It wasn’t his fault. He was being unfair.
Papyrus couldn’t help it. There was a growing, budding anger swelling inside his soul, something new and ugly. He wasn’t used to it. Like he wasn’t used to the endless lust that had slept dormant inside him, brought out by a drug, but still there nonetheless. Or the terrible heaviness that was settling into his very bones with each passing day.
He wasn’t used to any of this.
The Great Papyrus was becoming the WORST.
“I’m sorry, Sans…” he said softly. “I ...I just want to understand. I want to know...how this all started. How did we get here?”
And underneath all of it…
Why didn ’t you tell me, Sans? The things Grillby showed me, the parts of myself I didn’t even know existed. That these things, these feelings, that these urges were even possible... You were supposed to...
“I was...sixteen,” Sans said so quietly Papyrus almost missed it, cutting through his spiraling thoughts. “….when it started. When I noticed... I was sixteen, and you were…”
Papyrus blinked and slowly, it dawned on him. He had only been thirteen, not exactly a babybones, but definitely not an adult by any means. He glanced over the side of the tub to watch Sans. His brother had curled in on himself, chin tucked against his chest.
“...Oh,” was the only word Papyrus could think to say.
“I was scared," Sans confessed. "Confused. I didn’t want to approach the subject at all. Why did you think I never told you about...anything? I thought if I ignored it, ignored the topic altogether, like it didn’t even exist or I just forgot, it’ll just go away and you’ll learn about it from school or life, or something.”
Or from the neighborhood bar owner on his greasy hardwood floors.
Papyrus shoved the thought away as the truth spilled from his brother’s mouth in a way he’d never seen before. Sans was being straightforward and honest for the first time than he was sure either of them could remember.
“But it didn’t!” Sans said, as if he couldn’t stop himself once he started, unable to plug up the dam Papyrus had cracked open, unable to stop the outpour of how he ACTUALLY felt. “It just got WORSE! You got older, and you grew up to be such an amazing adult. I’m always in constant awe of you, every single day, and I...I just couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to you, put that on you. You deserved a better brother! And I couldn’t risk it...risk your judgment, your disgust. I’m fine when you point out when I’m being lazy and when you call me out on my bullshit. I appreciate it, even. But not for this. I wouldn’t be able to take it if you… This is the one place, the one thing I refused to throw up my hands and not give a damn. Not with you. Not this. …As long as you at least tolerated me a little bit, I can live with that.”
Papyrus stared at the back of his brother’s skull as Sans sunk further to the floor, a hand over his face. Was that how Sans actually felt? Did he actually think Papyrus just…tolerated him? What?
Without realizing what he was doing, Papyrus reached down with both hands and lifted Sans off the floor, gripping him from under each arm. Sans yelped, but otherwise didn’t fight as he was pulled into the tub with him. Water spilled in torrents over the sides, flooding the bathroom floor. Papyrus didn’t care. They’d clean it up later.
“Sans.” Papyrus hugged him tightly from behind, the back of his brother’s soaked jacket pressed against his chest. “I’ve never just tolerated you! I…I…Yes, I would scold you from time to time, but that’s only because I knew you could do so much better for yourself! Brother, even before…before all this, I cared! I’ve always cared! You’re my brother! First and foremost, and I just wanted the best for you! For us!”
Sans gently touched his arm, but didn’t move to push it away. In fact, Papyrus thought he could feel him lean a little into him. The sides of his brother’s face were wet, but he couldn’t tell whether it was from the bath water or something else. He was quiet for a moment, before he cleared his throat a little.
“…Ah geez, bro. I know. …I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t… It must have been confusing…scary even…when you started having these feelings, huh?”
Papyrus clenched his jaw. He couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t. But he didn’t have to. Not yet.
He pressed his forehead against his brother’s shoulder, tightening his grip. “…You have no idea…”
Sans turned his skull so it leaned against Papyrus’. “Well…I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere. …And…and if you don’t judge me, then you can’t judge yourself either, okay? Deal?”
Papyrus couldn’t deny that logic, even if that was only a fragment of his problems.
Still, he nodded against his brother’s neck.
Sans wasn’t much of a cook, even if Papyrus caught him once or twice trying to bake something in their oven. So Papyrus wasn’t even remotely surprised when Sans revealed his plan to take him out for dinner. It wasn’t until they left the house did Papyrus start to panic. He recalled the manual. For the perfect date, you took them to your favorite place…
And Sans’ favorite place was…
“I have a real treat for you, bro. Just you wait and see,” Sans said. “Come on, I know a shortcut.”
The minute he turned right from their doorstep, Papyrus let out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding.
No, Sans wasn’t taking him to Grillby’s, thank goodness.
In fact, for a moment, Papyrus wasn’t sure WHERE they were. Sans’ shortcuts always left him a little disoriented. But once his vision cleared, his eyelights landed on the large, yellow, neon lights splashed across the front of a building he’s never seen in person before.
“SANS, IS THIS WHAT I THINK IT IS?!”
“I dunno, what do you think it is?”
“IS THIS…IS THIS…IT’S…It’s Mettaton’s world-famous hotel and resort…right?”
He’d seen pictures of it on T.V. and heard plenty about it. He never had been interested in actually going before since it seemed to be a place where people went for vacation (which he was NOT a fan of), but he wanted to at least see it once. Maybe even run into the real Mettaton! That would be AMAZING. Life changing!
For one brief moment, it was like everything that had happened the last few days had been left behind in Snowdin Town. Somehow, the fact that there were miles of water and lava separating him and Grillby’s made it easier to just…put it behind him. Or at least a little bit. They didn’t even need to go inside. This one glorious moment where he truly felt like himself again was enough to make this date the best ever.
But of course they went inside and Papyrus couldn’t stop staring. Everything was so shiny and impressive and so busy.
There were monsters of every kind, coming and going, and there seemed to be a long wait for tables for the restaurant.
“One sec, bro. I’ll be back before you can say ‘overpriced plastic food.’” Sans told him and left to chat up the restaurant clerk and get them the table he had reserved earlier.
Papyrus scoffed at his brother’s joke. He knew the food here had to be a million times better than…
He shook his skull. Nope. He wasn’t thinking about that right now. He was going to enjoy himself, truly enjoy himself tonight. He was safe and with Sans and everything was okay.
Papyrus went back to the lobby to wait, wanting a closer look at the fountain, impressed by Mettaton’s statue. He was definitely his favorite…
He turned his back to it, a thought making him stop. Sexy…didn’t quite mean what he had thought it meant…
Damn it. Why was this so difficult?
He tried again to distract himself, watching the small crowd of monster mingle about.
Something flashed in the corner of his eye and he quickly snapped his skull around, his soul suddenly racing.
A monster made of fire stood out from among them, heading for the door. It was a young girl. Instead of the orange flames he was so familiar with, hers were a shade of brilliant green. She was still in her high school uniform as she seemed to bounce contently towards the exit.
Papyrus took a moment to breathe. It was Hotland. This was where most fire monsters lived. Grillby was just one extremely rare example. Nothing to be alarmed about. Nothing out of the ordinary. He really needed to…
“...Oh? Who do we have here?”
A hand fell on his shoulder on the opposite side he was facing, fingers curling around the back of his neck where it met his skull. It emanated pure heat, and yet a soul curdling chill ran down his spine at the voice, at the weight of the hand on his sensitive bones, of the body that had moved right beside him quietly and without him knowing, so distracted he'd been by the girl.
The terror Papyrus felt was so instantaneous and overwhelming that he froze. He became stock still as Grillby chuckled softly, the sound like the faint crackling of a lit fireplace.
Or a burning house.
…It’s good to see you.”
Grillby ruins their date.
Papyrus wrestles with the hardest decision of his life.
To tell, or not to tell?
That is the question.
It's not over!!!
The hotel lobby was still bustling with monsters. A throng of activity and life, monsters living their dreary lives with or without cares. A cacophony of monster society at the very Core of the Underground.
Papyrus saw none of it.
Papyrus’ entire surroundings faded away as his focus closed in on the singular point at the back of his neck. Two warm fingertips ran small, heated circles over the bone, round and round, round and round, over and over again.
Grillby was talking, but Papyrus didn’t hear him. All sound had become muffled and distant. His entire awareness fell on the erratic throbbing of his own soul and those two fingers, circling endlessly, getting hotter and hotter, gradually burning a hole into his neck.
Papyrus inwardly winced at the rising pain, forcing his face straight as he clenched his teeth. “P-Please…s-stop…”
The heat lowered, but the fingers kept moving, gentler this time, but still with the incessant rubbing.
“…I apologize,” Grillby whispered, the crackling sound finally registering with Papyrus. “…I just wanted to be sure you were listening.”
Papyrus jerked his head in a slight nod to affirm he was.
His surroundings were still a vague blur of color and muffled discarded noises. Grillby’s suffocating presence by his side, the heat and weight of those fingers resting on his neck — these details had become clear and sharp. Almost too sharp. Like taking a magnifying glass to a flame and staring unblinkingly at its center.
In that moment, Grillby was his entire world.
And it was Hell.
“…You really hurt my feelings, you know,” Grillby said softly, fingers rolling across the back of his neck. “…It took me a while to get over it, but…it’s okay. I forgive you. This changes nothing between us.”
Papyrus swallowed and forced himself to utter a broken, stuttered whisper. “A-Aren’t you…going to tell…?”
“…Tell who? …Sans?” Papyrus could hear the smirk in his voice, but didn’t dare look at him in the face. “…Hmmm… …Maybe. I’m not sure yet. …I suppose it all depends on you …and how you behave from now on.”
“I…I d-don’t--” Papyrus couldn’t finish the sentence, needing all his willpower just to breathe.
“…Oh, don’t misunderstand me. There will be…consequences…for your betrayal. But like I said…I forgive you…for the most part.”
Grillby raised his hand to the back of Papyrus' skull, running along the curved bone, up and down. Papyrus sucked in a tight breath between his teeth.
He couldn’t cry. Not here. Not now.
Sans could come back at any moment.
“…My bedroom. Tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. Don’t be late,” Grilby whispered. “…If you don’t show up, well… Then you won’t have to worry about Sans finding out. You won’t have to worry about anything at all… Understood?”
Papyrus choked on his breath. A terror he’d almost forgotten — a terror he’d never felt before Grillby — gripped his soul, twisting and twisting and twisting.
Lightheaded as the edges of his sockets burned with unshed tears, he nodded and hoped that would be enough. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
“…Good. Get plenty of rest tomorrow,” Grillby said casually as if this was all normal. As if they were just having a casual conversation about Papyrus’ wellbeing.
The bartender's hand stopped. It reached down and curled its burning fingers around Papyrus' neck, squeezing until the bones creaked.
“…You’re going to need it.”
“Hey, Pap-…Sh-…Grillby! Hey!
Papyrus blinked and it was as if the world exploded into existence, bursting with noise and color and movement all at once. Sans finally returned, smile on his face, the edges too tight, giving away his anxiety. His hands vanished into his pockets.
Remarkably, Grillby’s hand was no longer around Papyrus’ neck, leaving behind only a ghost-like impression. He had no idea when the elemental had released him, now standing beside him at a normal distance.
It felt like time had distorted, like taking one of Sans' shortcuts. It felt like he had been standing alone with Grillby for ages, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.
“…Hello, Sans,” Grillby said, sounding as close to cheerful as the enigmatic fire elemental was going to get. “…Do you have a show tonight?”
“Uh. No, no. Not tonight,” Sans said, and it was strange to see Sans this visibly frazzled, even if it wasn’t by much. He still had his easy grin and stared Grillby straight in the eye. But Papyrus noticed the faint blush and the way he clenched the fabric of his jacket inside his pockets. Grillby had caught him off guard.
“Just showing Papyrus around. He’s never been to Hotland before.”
Grillby sounded surprised. “…Oh? You haven’t?”
It took a moment for Papyrus to realized he was being spoken to.
“Oh. Oh! Yes! Yes! I…It’s quite lovely! To think it took my brother this long to invite me! But he’s always been so lazy! What am I to do with him?!”
If Sans had been caught off guard, Papyrus had been completely and utterly thrown. He grasped at anything to appear fine.
God, why did the first thing he reached for was to publicly put Sans down? Why was it so easy and familiar? He slid effortlessly into the role of the all knowing, superior, exasperated brother, even when his whole world was crumbling around him. How long had he’d been such an awful brother for it to become so normal?
Still, he was a bit too loud, too high pitched. Sans stared at him, his smile twitching at the edges.
Grillby smoothed it over with a soft chuckle and apparently decided to be merciful for once. “…Well, don’t let me keep you. Enjoy yourselves.”
“Oh, hey,” Sans said as Grillby was about to leave.
Papyrus resisted the urge to slap a hand over his brother’s mouth and silence him before he kept Grillby around any longer.
“What are you up to? You kept the bar closed all day. You alright?”
Papyrus blinked. That was right. Grillby would normally be at his bar at this hour.
Was the only reason Sans didn’t take him to Grillby’s was because it hadn’t been an option?
“…Yes, I’m fine. Just needed a day off. Vent some steam. I’ve been pushing myself a little too hard lately.” A mischievous smile flickered across Grillby's face as he stared pointedly at Sans. “…I had a date tonight, actually.”
“O-Oh? Where’s the lucky lady?” Sans asked, breaking eye contact for the first time with the pretense of looking around for her.
“…She went home early, had to be somewhere,” Grillby shrugged. “…I don’t mind. I got what I needed.”
He glanced at Papyrus as he spoke and the look in his eye was so obvious that he was relieved his brother had suddenly found the fountain so much more interesting.
“Heh. Typical Grillby. I’m not surprised,” Sans said. He seemed to pull himself together and shot Grillby the usual grin that Papyrus saw through as clearly as the water flowing from the fountain. “See ya, Grilbz.”
“…Goodnight.” The bartender nodded to them both, shooting Papyrus one last, brief glance, before walking away.
Papyrus had watched the entire interaction in a daze, barely breathing.
Had...that been real?
Did all of that really happen?
It felt like a dream.
Under an unfamiliar ceiling, with unfamiliar surroundings, going on his first ever date with his own brother, and running into Grillby, after everything, after…after…
Grillby wanted to see him tomorrow and made it very clear the consequences of not going.
There was going to be more.
More of Grillby. More of…
Of course. There will always be more.
Papyrus realized with a start that he had been staring into space silently for several minutes. “Oh. Yes, brother?”
“You okay? You…You’re awfully quiet…”
“Oh. Yes, just…lost in thought I suppose.”
Sans winced. “Shit. I’m sorry. Did Grillby say anything to you?”
Dazed and confused, Papyrus swallowed a lump of rising panic. He couldn’t break down here. Not like this. Not tonight.
Sans sighed. “It’s okay. You don’t have to lie. This is all my fault. Was he…worried? Harsh?”
Papyrus stared at his brother, now openly bewildered. “What?”
Sans ducked his head, red hot shame glowing on his face.
"I know he knows. I…I was the one who told him. About us. He said something, didn’t he?”
“Oh… is that right?” Papyrus barely pulled off the questioning reflection in his voice at the end of his sentence since he already knew quite well what Sans had done.
He’d been present for it.
Sans saw right through him, of course, but drew the wrong conclusion as he winced. “He said something. Goddamnit…”
Papyrus saw the opportunity, but hesitated, not sure why. There was no other option. No better chance. Take it. Use it.
“Why…did you tell him?” he asked. He didn’t even have to pretend to want to know. “Were you…that mad at me?”
He wouldn’t have blamed him if he did.
It was the wrong thing to say.
Sans’ face changed. His smile picked up, curving brightly, but his eyes were dull, his jaw tight. Forced.
“How about we talk about it later, huh?” He took one of Papyrus’ hands, squeezing. “I’d like to salvage this night, if possible. Remember, this is about you.”
Papyrus felt a slight shock as he remembered the original purpose of being here, having forgotten throughout the conversation.
It seemed so incredibly absurd all of a sudden.
And the lie he was still keeping from Sans sat heavy and toxic in his non-existent gut.
“C’mon. They have our table ready. It’s not as great as your own cooking, I’m sure, but a change will be nice. You’ll love it.”
“O-of course!” Papyrus said, trying desperately to sound himself.
This shouldn’t be so hard. He can worry about Grillby later. Sans was the only thing that mattered right now.
He could do this.
He had to.
He couldn’t do this.
To see Grillby again so soon after...
And Grillby wanted to see him again. Tomorrow.
For one brief glorious moment, Papyrus thought that maybe, just maybe the nightmare was finally over. That Grillby was done with him.
Or at least, for a little while.
Grillby had been SO angry.
How can he be over it already?
“I’m screwing this up, aren’t I?” Sans said quietly, fingering the tablecloth.
Papyrus blinked. “Huh?”
They were sitting for dinner at the Hotel’s restaurant. He barely remembered how or when they were seated. Papyrus stared down at the plate full of food he barely touched and then at the empty one in front of Sans.
How long had they been sitting there? He vaguely recalled responding with a couple of words during the meal.
“MmmHmm.” “Yes, brother.” “That’s nice.” “Very funny.”
“You haven’t looked at me at all since we sat down,” Sans said quietly. “…and you didn't say anything when I shoveled all my food into my mouth."
Papyrus noticed the stains around his brother's collar, but for some reason couldn’t bring himself to care. His mind remained elsewhere, replaying Grillby’s words over and over and over again…
Still, he tried.
“You really shouldn’t be so gross in such a nice place, brother,” Papyrus admonished, too late and there was no heart in it. Honestly, he couldn't have cared less if Sans had drenched himself in ketchup and danced on their table. His brother's manners seemed so unimportant compared to what was to come tomorrow.
“…If you don’t show up, well… Then you won’t have to worry about Sans finding out. You won’t have to worry about anything at all…”
In front of him, Sans fingered his unused wine glass. “I mean…it’s weird. This is weird, isn’t it?”
“This changes nothing between us.”
“Huh? Oh! N-No! No, no, not at all! This is great!” Papyrus said, forcing himself to focus, to snap out of it, to look at his brother who was trying so hard to be nice to him, to make this work and...
It was pointless. Sans wouldn't buy it no matter how hard he tried.
“I'm sorry, it’s just…it's just...um…”
Papyrus needed something. An excuse, an exit, anything. The date had been ruined the moment Grillby showed up, and all the specialness of this place had died. He couldn’t enjoy himself anymore.
In fact, he despised this place and how uneasy it made him feel. As if Grillby could show up at any moment, without any warning.
He just wanted to go home.
“Thank you, brother, for bringing me here. But maybe we could…enjoy a change of scenery? I think I’ve enjoyed this place enough for one night.”
“Oh. Somewhere else you have in mind?” Sans asked casually, but Papyrus could see the resignation settling in his gaze, in his posture. It suddenly struck Papyrus that, for the first time in a very long time, Sans was really, really trying.
Papyrus couldn't give up. He couldn’t let Sans give up!
“Um. Actually! There is a place I’d very much like to go right now!” he said quickly, standing up. “Let's move our date over there!”
His favorite place.
Isn't that what the manual had instructed?
While he did enjoy his home, there was one place that had been his favorite these past few days. His special, safe place.
Sans’ eyes went soft with an open affection Papyrus had never seen on him before. It made him blush. Sans took his hand, squeezing gently and Papyrus felt his soul hiccup in not an unpleasant way.
“Alright, Papyrus. Let's get out of here. I know a shortcut.”
Waterfall was beautiful at night.
True, in the Underground, the environment didn't change too much between day or night. But in the evenings, most of the monsters were asleep in their homes. It was quiet, calm and soothing. Only the soft sound of running water and the faint chirps of the moldspurs hiding in the bushes broke the silence. The perfect musical backdrop to end their perfect romantic evening.
On their way there, he lost his nerve.
Papyrus would have loved nothing more than for this night to be the one he had dream of for years.
A special date with his special someone.
Instead, with each step he took he realized his own limitations.
He couldn’t do this.
He couldn't keep this secret.
Sans deserved better, deserved real love...
He deserved to know the truth.
No, that was a lie, wasn’t it? Wouldn’t that be nice?
If only Papyrus could be so selfless, so noble, so…
If only he could convince himself that he was doing this for his brother’s sake alone.
But even he couldn’t swallow that lie.
He just wanted it to stop - a way to make it so tomorrow never happened.
The very notion of returning to Grillby’s bedroom made his head swoon, his nonexistent gut clench.
He couldn't do it again.
It had to stop.
Papyrus could make it stop. He could make it all stop with only a handful of words.
“Brother. There’s something I have to tell you…”
It would be easy. So easy.
All he had to do was be honest. Tell the truth.
Be a good brother for once.
Though Sans had used a shortcut to Waterfall, Papyrus lead them to the exact spot. He chose one he'd never been before, in case Flowey decided to pop in. Not that he’s ever showed himself when Sans was around. Still, he couldn’t be too careful.
After a short walk, Papyrus found a stretch of land surrounded by softly glowing water, half hidden by stone walls. A small, neglected bench sat not too far away.
He sat down on the soft grass near the edge of the water, feeling a bit more at ease.
With all this water, Grillby couldn’t move around safely.
With all this darkness, Grillby would stand out like a torch and alert his presence immediately.
He wouldn't be able to sneak up on them here.
Papyrus was safe.
For a little while, at least.
“Heh. Funny,” Sans said, the first words spoken by either of them since they left the restaurant. “This is my favorite spot in Waterfall.”
Papyrus stared at him in surprise. “It is?”
Sans nodded and stepped right up to the water, staring down at it. Its soft light flickered over his brother's face, illuminating his strange expression.
“Uh huh. It’s quiet and the ceiling is juuuuust close enough so you can make out the faintest glow of the stones without a telescope,” Sans said, looking straight up. “And it's so quiet, I can hear myself think for once.”
“You can’t elsewhere?” Papyrus asked, curious.
His brother shook his head. “Nah. Too much noise. Everywhere.” He shrugged and glanced at Papyrus, eyes sparkling with a hidden sadness in spite of the smile. “So many of us now, crammed down here. Guess it can’t be helped.”
It was strange. Eerie.
This place with its darkness, and the murmurs of echo flowers and running streams. It was soothing, calming.
For the moment, the bartender seemed so very, very far away. His brother was here, being sincere and honest and...
Papyrus didn't want to ruin it.
Sans sighed and sat down next to him on the grass.
“Look. Papyrus.” He took a breath, staring at his hands. “I know... This is less than perfect. In fact, it kind of sucks. B-but, damnit.” He raised his face and Papryus, with a jolt, recognized the expression on his face.
It was Hope.
“If…if we’re just gonna feel this way, then let's just feel this way, you know?" Sans said with a rare passion. "A clean slate. No judgment. Or at least, just for tonight. You just say what you want to say and I’ll do the same. How about it?”
Papyrus stared at him in disbelief.
Yes! That’s exactly what he wanted. Sans was giving him permission. It’s what Sans wanted! All he had to do was tell him the truth. He was ASKING for it!
He had to.
He had to.
He had to!
If he didn’t do it soon...
“Brother,I... I need t-to tell you something very important.”
Sans stared at him, giving his full attention.
His brother reached out, placing his hand on his own and their eyes met, something soft, and anxious, and above all...
Papyrus lost his words.
The way his brother was looking at him, Papyrus couldn't even begin to describe. It didn’t matter if he became a Royal Guard, or if he became the most powerful and most popular monster in the Underground.
All the love in the universe couldn't stand up to the way his brother was looking at him right now.
In that moment, frozen in time, he recognized Sans' full and complete devotion.
Undeniable and yet Papyrus couldn’t help but question it.
“Papyrus, you can tell me,” Sans said, trying to keep his tone light and utterly failing, which was also so rare to see. His brother was always so good at faking it. “You don't need to keep anything from me.”
Papyrus grit his teeth.
They were going off the book. This wasn’t what a date was supposed to be like. This was different.
Awkward. Quiet. Not even remotely exciting. Scary.
“This… All of this… It's so much,” Papyrus said slowly, avoiding eye contact, but kept his hand under his brother's, gripping the wet grass growing beneath them. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Do you want to sto-?”
Papyrus' head snapped up, staring at his brother with wide, terrified eyes, his soul pounding in his chest. He couldn’t tell who was more surprised.
“No,” Papyrus repeated more calmly. “No, I…I don’t want to stop.”
It was now or never.
"It's just that..."
Tell him or…
"You see the thing is..."
JUST DO IT AND IT ’LL ALL BE OVER.
“I…I don’t want to stop. I want…I want this to continue. I want to do more... And THAT scares me.”
He couldn’t do it.
Papyrus couldn’t do that to him.
He couldn't take away his brother's hope, his happiness.
Papyrus would die first.
“T-That’s…that’s what I wanted to tell you,” he whispered, voice trembling.
Something wet rolled down the edge of his cheek and he lowered his head, watching his tears fall against the back of his brother's hand.
He was such a coward.
Sans was silent for a moment before he reached out with his free hand, cupping his face and wiping the tears away. Papyrus’ soul sunk low as Sans’ swallowed his half-truth whole.
“I know,” Sans said. “I…I feel exactly the same way.”
Papyrus leaned into his touch, shutting his eyes. The worst part was - the bitter, hollow truth of it all - that this could have been different.
If Grillby hadn’t been an issue, this could have carried out the same and yet differently. He couldn’t deny that these new, spiraling feelings he had for his brother were overwhelmingly new and scary. Maybe that’s why he was crying. He was scared of this. Of what this could mean.
This was so messed up.
It had gone all wrong.
Sans wrapped his arms around him and Papyrus leaned heavily against his small frame. His brother held him for a moment, before falling back to the ground, pulling him down. Papyrus didn't resist, his head falling against his brother's chest as they lay in the grass.
"Look," Sans murmured, the sound rumbling against Papryus’ skull. Sans raised a pointed finger to the ceiling. “Check it. If you stare straight up, it really does look like the night sky.”
Papyrus turned his head to look up at the expansive darkness that hung above them. “How would I know the difference? I’ve never seen the sky before.”
“Well, trust me. It looks just like that, when the moon is new and clouds cover the stars.”
“What are clouds?”
“Hmm. Think giant snowpuffs in the sky.”
Papyrus stared at the darkness for a moment before he carefully rolled over, pushing himself up on his hands and knees. He hovered over Sans, his brother still laying flat against the grass, staring up above before tearing his eyes away from the infinite darkness to meet his gaze. Papyrus could feel the heat rise up Sans' face, his soul racing.
Both of theirs.
Their chests were mere inches apart, keeping nothing secret.
Papyrus didn't want to break the moment. He found looking at Sans far more pleasant than the dark nothingness that engulfed them. He could stare at his brother's face forever. He didn’t know why, when or how this inappropriate fascination started. He just couldn’t help it now. Everything about Sans gave him an effortless pleasure and peace that he desperately craved.
He leaned down a fraction and froze, his soul tightening with uncertainty.
Before he could ask, Sans closed the distance between their mouths, kissing him with closed eyes.
Papyrus gladly kissed him back, his body sagging with relief.
Sans let his head fall back against the grass, dragging Papyrus down to keep kissing, still lazy as always.
Papyrus didn’t mind. The kiss wasn’t the heated, open mouthed affair they had shared as their first, or what Papyrus normally shared with Grillby. It was gentle; slow with just a hint of desperation.
Sans’ hands slid up his chest, fingers running over each rib, before sliding up his shoulders and neck, resting on either side of Papyrus’ jaw.
When they pulled apart, Sans’ eye-lights were large and soft around the edges. A stark contrast to the flickering pinpricks they had been a few days ago.
Papyrus did this.
Gave Sans this. Gave it to himself.
He refused to let Grillby take this away from him.
Papyrus pressed his face into the nook between his brother’s neck and shoulder as Sans wrapped his arms around him, holding him close.
God, he wanted to drown in his brother's embrace, in his warmth, in his love. This may have been forbidden, but Papyrus never felt a more pure, good thing in his life, wrapped in his brother’s arms in a way he never should.
Papyrus didn’t care about anything else.
He wanted to be utterly lost in this feeling.
“So, um, Paps,” Sans whispered after some time, his fingers gently stroking the back of Papyrus' skull. “Um... Did you s-still want me to read to you tonight?”
Papyrus smiled and the tears brought to his eyes were happy for a change.
“Yes, Sans. I’d like that.”