The first time is almost, not quite, an accident.
They're sitting in a patch of earth closer to waterfall, where the air is warm around them and they're just talking, chatting away about some nonsense or another.
Probably about how annoying Sans can be, a subject they often explore.
And Papyrus has been feeling weird, heated. Like maybe he wants to ask Flowey something important, something absurd, but doesn't know how to do so without sounding... bad.
Because what he wants to ask isn't something he is supposed to ask of friends, probably? Not unless he feels differently about them and Papyrus isn't sure if he feels that way about Flowey.
Though they're more than just friends, aren't they? They're best friends. They're bestest friends, even. Papyrus doesn't know what that means anymore.
He just knows he's lonely and Sans would hate it if they did this and either reason is good enough for him.
"Flowey." He breathes, his voice low and husky and embarrassed. But his friend looks at him, waits. "Would you... touch me?"
"...Ok." And Flowey wraps one vine around his hand gingerly, like they sometimes do when one of them is feeling particularly unwell.
Papyrus shakes his head and pulls back a little. "No, I meant like this." And he pushes one hand up his own shirt, fondles his ribcage with a pleased sigh.
He has only ever done this in the privacy of his own room and doing it in front of somebody is embarrassing at first.
But it feels nice, and Flowey is blinking at him, eyes impossibly wide. Curious.
"It's fine." Papyrus encourages him, grabbing one of his friend's vines and guiding it on where to touch him. "It feels so good. Here, I'll show you."
"Oh-" Flowey says, just that one surprised little noise and then he's trying it, moving on his own. Swiping carefully across the skeleton's bones and watching him throw his head back slightly, shiver at the unfamiliar sensation.
Something wraps around his spine and slides downward and Papyrus yelps in surprise.
Flowey freezes for a second, tries it again and Papyrus is writhing, moaning softly. One of his hands is pushing away his shorts and there's magic gathered there, bright and unformed and Flowey stares at it, a weird expression caught on his face.
If Papyrus didn't know any better he'd say it was disgust.
But something like that doesn't even register right now, when his entire body feels hot and tight and wound up and he's thrusting his hips subconsciously, meeting no resistance.
"Ngg, F-Flowey, Please, c-can you?" He groans, one hand reaching out and Flowey grabs it dutifully, sliding one vine against the skeleton's pelvis, stops.
"Please?" Papyrus whines again, eager.
He has to concentrate into forming the necessary equipment for what's happening next. He's nervous, has never done anything remotely like this before and his excitement feels like a physical weight on his chest.
For one horrible second he is ready and aching and waiting and then Flowey is inside him, pushing deeper slowly and Papyrus pushes back, fingers scrambling against wet earth for purchase.
It is amazing. Nothing like he had imagined but so much more than he hoped and he's so full, there's so much happening all at once.
He thrusts his hips and Flowey picks up a rhythm of even movements that drive him crazy with lust. It isn't nearly enough.
So he touches himself instead, roams his hands over his body and moans openly, loudly, begging his friend to pick up the pace, to fuck him mercilessly.
"Ah- Yes, You're so good to me, Flowey. So fucking good."
Flowey hesitates. Papyrus thinks maybe he's scared he'll hurt him so he shakes his head, trying again to tell him how good this feels. How nice this is. Over and over again.
Saying how Flowey is being such a good friend of his right now.
Flowey makes a sudden strangled noise.
Then he's plunging into him, thrusting in and out quickly and Papyrus whines, on the point of incoherence as his best friend fucks him into the ground.
All too soon something is building inside him, like a wave of pleasure slowly rising and drowning him and he's growing tighter still, cums around Flowey with a few short jerks.
When they're done, the other pulls out of him carefully. Doesn't say anything.
It takes a few minutes for Papyrus to come down from his high again and his friend is poking him, hovering over him with that same expression again.
Papyrus blinks.
"That was very nice." He sighs and Flowey doesn't say anything still. "Thank you."
"No problem." Flowey answers with a grimace. He looks like he wants to say something more but Papyrus rolls over before he can, looks at him from an angle.
"I'm glad we got to do this together." He muses, his hand wraps around one of Flowey's vines again, squeezes tenderly. "I'm glad we're best friends."
"I'm glad we're friends too." Flowey admits, for a change.
And these are just the kind of things best friends would do, aren't they.
That first time was almost certainly an accident.
Or a mistake, rather.
Flowey didn't know a lot about sex. Certainly not the magical skeleton variant. The only thing he ever heard about it was from his parents, and back then he thought it was icky.
He still thinks it's icky.
But then there is Papyrus, with his pleading voice and his eager hands and his "We're friends, aren't we, flowey? Friends do this kind of stuff for each other."
And he isn't too sure about that. Chara and him never did anything even remotely like this and they used to be friends too. But maybe they just weren't real best friends? Not like Papyrus and him.
The only thing he knows is that he didn't like it. The writhing and the tightness clamping around him and Papyrus making those noises. Flowey didn't like it one bit.
He wishes he could just forget about it happening and have things go back to normal.
But it doesn't stop with that one time.
Papyrus doesn't bring it up for a while after and a tiny part of Flowey hopes he has just moved on too. That he has had his fun and they can go back to just being best friends now without all the weird sex stuff. Without doing something that made him feel uncomfortable, dirty.
Then Papyrus wants to do it again.
"Papyrus, I don't-" He tries, in vain because the skeleton is looking at him with his head cocked and that tiny little smirk on is face Flowey can never say no to and he has already lost, hasn't he? Because there isn't anything he wouldn't do just to keep Papyrus around. His favorite, out of all of them.
"We can try something different, this time, if you like." Papyrus says hopefully, somehow sensing the hesitance in his friend and Flowey nods, thinking maybe if they did something different it wouldn't be as bad.
Maybe he could actually not hate it this time.
Papyrus forms something different, something long and fleshy that feels firm against Flowey's grip. It is warm to the touch, sticky. Predictably, Flowey doesn't like it.
He starts moving slowly, deliberately, hoping to have this over with quickly, but Papyrus lays one hand over his grip to slow him down.
"N-not too fast-" He gasps between breathy moans and Flowey nods shakily, tries to not wince at his friend's tone of voice, drunken with desire.
It's sickening.
It seems to last forever, though in reality probably only a few minutes have passed, Papyrus thrusting his hips shallowly as Flowey jerks him off. Then he's twitching, condensed magic spurts out of him and covers Flowey's vines and face and it makes him want to let go immediately, wipe himself clean as fast as possible and never do anything like this again.
This is disgusting.
But Papyrus sighs, pleased, happy, and that somehow makes it worth it at least. That's what Flowey tells himself.
He tries to make it good for Flowey too, but it's hard.
Papyrus caresses him, daft fingers rolling petals between their tips and Flowey shudders so maybe it's working.
His best friend is inside him again, filling him to the brim, but they're facing each other this time, Papyrus on his elbows and knees as he gets fucked from behind.
He moans, rolls his hips eagerly and he is holding Flowey, roaming his hands all over him in an attempt to find something, some spot that will make a difference, unsure if his unconventional body even has any.
It's hard to concentrate but Papyrus thinks of his dating manual and what that said about recuperating your feelings. He needs to show Flowey somehow how much he appreciates this, what they're doing, how he's making him feel.
There must be some way.
Then it hits him. He hesitates for a moment, thinks maybe this will be too much, but then Flowey rubs against that spot inside him that makes his mind go blank and he's pressing their mouths together, kissing his friend deeply.
For one horrible second Flowey ceases any kind of movement, his face warped in surprise and something else and then he's moving again, quicker, harsh movements that leave Papyrus gasping despite not needing air.
He pushes his tongue against Flowey's, tries to coax it into play and after a few seconds it does, coyly. Papyrus deepens the kiss and he's moaning into his best friend's mouth, trying anything to show his pleasure.
He finishes with a sudden push, something breaking inside him and he's crying out, eye sockets scrunched close as it washes over him, sweeps him away.
Flowey pulls out almost immediately, withdraws like even touching Papyrus would be too much right now and he's frowning. Again, that same expression of not quite disgust sweeps across his features and Papyrus tries to smile, tries to brush his hands against his friend as if that will make it all better.
He knows that what they're doing is wrong. He has known ever since that very first time that this wasn't a good idea and that Flowey hated it.
Papyrus isn't an idiot. Just selfish.
"Hey Flowey." He says, whispers. So that his friend has no choice but to come closer again to hear him, so Papyrus can touch him lightly. Can hold him in a tight embrace.
Can pretend that what they're doing is right.
"I love you." He says. A last resort.
Flowey swallows, pulling taunt away from him.
He hates this. He hates it with every ounce of his being. Wishes for once that Papyrus was like the others, boring, predictable. So that Flowey could rewind and make things right again.
Undo everything.
"You don't." He says. "You just love this." And he gestures at them. At the ground littered with the furrows of a writing body caught in sexual pleasure. The stray magic staining the air.
Papyrus doesn't look at him for a moment. Flowey thinks maybe he's about to cry. It feels like that anyway.
But when he looks back his eyes are fond, set with something much deeper than sadness and Flowey isn't so sure anymore.
"No. I love you." His friend repeats, louder, surer of himself. Painfully so. "And I love you for doing this with me. There's nobody else who would."
And it stings because Flowey knows Papyrus is an excellent liar and he can't tell. Can't tell anything about him anymore.
And when he feels Papyrus around him, constricting, swallowing him, Flowey hates it so fucking much.
But there's only one thing that matters, isn't there?
"Are you happy, then?" Flowey asks, voice curt. He only needs an answer.
"Immensely."
Though it isn't the answer he wanted.
"Fine." Flowey says, roams the expanse of Papyrus' body, all his in more way than one now and he despises it. "I love you too."
pssst, I love comments?