Pairing: Swapfellcest (SF!Sans/SF!Papyrus)

Tags for this chapter: Implied NSFW, dom/sub, bondage, aftercare, fluff


It isn't the sex Papyrus likes most.

That's not to say he is opposed to it or anything. Quite the contrary, whenever Sans pushed him down into the sheets, made him bend over across the kitchen table, forced him up against the wall out in public, it was like electricity coursing through his body.

Like every sense of his was heightened tenfold, exhilaration taking over in an addicting fashion.

And when Sans whispered in his ear about how dirty he was, a filthy mutt, a needy little whore waiting for master's cock, Papyrus could basically feel his soul melt inside him, legs spreading impossibly wider.

He wanted all of Sans, every day. Every inch of him alive just for his brother's undivided attention, keening for it, begging for it if his lord so desired. There wasn't a single thing he wouldn't do for the other.

Filled to the brim with release and pleasure and coming down from a high that wasn't describable in any language he knew.

But even then, it wasn't the sex.

It was what came afterwards.

When they're lying in his brother's bed, the air stuffy and filled with lingering magic, bodies sticky with fluid, and Sans pulls him closer, breaches the gap between them and makes them fit together like puzzle pieces.

That's what Papyrus likes most.

His wrists ache from being tied up for too long, but it's fine. More than worth it, even.

Sans cradles them still, pressing soft kisses to the lingering dust there. Papyrus had struggled, pulled the ropes taunt as his master coaxed him closer to the edge, just to leave him hanging before being able to finish, over and over again until he was sure he was going insane.

He closes his eyes, mind at peace and the blankets warm and it's like he could just drift away like this forever. Basking in his lord's presence as if he were the sun.

And Sans is nothing if not the center of Papyrus' very universe.

"Did I hurt you?" Sans hums then, maybe concerned over his silence and when he looks up his master is staring at him carefully, eyes narrowed.

Papyrus smiles. "Not in the wrong way."

The shorter skeleton nods, presses their bodies closer still and entangles their limbs, chin resting against his lover's shoulder.

"Remember to tell me if I ever do."

It's an absurd proposition. Papyrus would not believe in a million years Sans would ever harm him.

But he knows that this is important, vital for the balance of their relationship and as much as he needs somebody to lead, to take the reigns and carry the burden of decision for him, Sans needs to know Papyrus doesn't regret it.

"I will." He promises, one hand cradling the back of his brother's head. Running a finger down the scar along his eye socket. "I love you."

Sans huffs slightly, pulling back just a bit but his eyes are fond, amused by his sappiness. "You're a good pet, Papyrus."

There's a shiver down his spine, Papyrus isn't sure if it's because of the praise or the casual use of his name, one his lord doesn't often employ.

He closes his eyes once more, truly content and as he starts to give in to the pull of sleep he feels Sans relax in his hold also, the faint squeeze of a hand entwined with his.

"Love you too, Mutt."


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