"You're sure you don't want to come with me?" Papyrus asks, packing the last of his supplies in a suitcase and zipping it up.
"I'm good." Sans says, munching absentmindedly on some chips in bed.
Papyrus is going to Waterfall for a week-long extended stay in Temmie Village. The tems are curious monsters, that kept mostly to themselves during Asgore's reign. Papyrus sees them as potential allies, but Sans has no desire to trek through muggy marshes to court a bunch of fuzzy weirdoes.
So instead, Sans plans to take a little time for himself, to laze and snack like a total slob while Papyrus isn't there to disapprove. He's already started with this bag of chips, the dog helpfully licking up the crumbs he's spewing on the sheets.
"Try not to wreck the entire castle while I'm gone," Papyrus warns, but his voice is tinged with mirth.
"No promises."
Papyrus bends down a little, tilting Sans' chin up, engaging him in a slow, loving kiss.
They break apart, Papyrus' fingers caressing the side of Sans' skull.
"I'll be back soon."
Papyrus picks up his suitcase, and with one last glance back, slips out the door.
Sans glances down at the mutt, which is snuffling at his hands in search of more crumbs.
"Looks like it's just you and me now."
The hound's tail thumps excitedly.
Papyrus scheduled his visit to the Temmie Clan on a week Sans had off from his judicial responsibilities. The kingdom chugs along on its own well enough for the moment, allowing Papyrus to make a trip to an obscure village, while Sans gets to spend his time doing his absolute favorite hobby—absolutely nothing.
Sans and the hound settle into a routine. Sans spends a good portion of the day vegging out on the couch, and when the hellhound starts to look antsy Sans takes the dog for a walk in the garden. The dog is smart enough to know not to piss here; it does that business elsewhere. Instead, the garden is for playing. The dog fetches a tennis ball that it got from god knows where, and Sans tosses it around with his magic, watching with amusement as the dog chases it around in circles. It's something of a relief to have a week to step back from everything and just…be.
Papyrus had tried to call him the first night, but the audio was choppy, the bad reception making it difficult for them to hear each other. So they've settled for texting, but the connection is so poor that about one out of five of the texts Sans sends goes through. He gives up on sending any messages of real importance, instead texting his brother occasional emojis or stories about the dog, just to show he's still kicking.
His week alone is going fine, until one day Sans wakes up and can instantly tell that something's decidedly not right. The thick, syrupy feeling of arousal drips through him, his body warm and flushed, his mind fuzzy. He must've orgasmed several times in the night, the evidence in his sodden boxers, the sticky puddle of fluid on the sheets.
Sans reaches down, hesitantly touching himself. The press of his hand alone sends waves of pleasure wracking through his body. God, this hasn't happened in ages. He's the furthest from prepared that he could possibly be.
He rubs at himself for a moment, and then forces his hand away. Soon, he won't be able to do anything but masturbate; he needs to act while there's still a glimmer of sanity left within him.
He heaves himself out of bed, limbs sluggish and slow to respond as he drags himself to the door. The hound must've smelled him yesterday and knew something was up, because it's nowhere to be found now.
The door to the bedroom is shut, as it is every night, but now Sans slides the heavy lock in place. Short of a battering ram, nothing is getting through that door.
Sans rests his sweating skull against the wood, panting softly. He'd never forgive himself if his arousal pushed him into taking a servant or guard into his bed. Papyrus would kill the offending monster without a second thought, but. He would be magnanimous enough to forgive Sans.
Sans' hand trails against the lock, warring with himself. Papyrus would forgive him. But by betraying him like that, Sans would nurture the seeds of insecurity already planted inside his brother.
So, even though his body urges him otherwise, he makes sure the door is securely locked before staggering back into the bed.
He works his shirt up some, exposing his lower ribs and spine. His hands fumble across the bone, stroking and touching. It's a pale imitation of Papyrus' strong, warm touch. It's not enough, so Sans starts to palm the mound of magic beneath his boxers, his slick dribbling down the insides of his legs.
God, he needs Papyrus. Why did this have to happen now, why couldn't he have sucked it up and gone with Papyrus—
His cell phone. Sans' gaze snaps to the nightstand, where his cell phone rests. The haze wrapped around his thoughts clears slightly. He could call Papyrus, who would rush back to take care of him.
His one hand continues to rub at his clothed arousal, while the other strains across the bed to grab the cell phone. He grasps it, but his momentary hope is squashed instantly. The phone's screen is black and unresponsive; it's out of charge.
Sans whines, and bucks faster into his hand. He lets the cell phone drop to the floor; he doesn't have nearly enough coherency any longer to scrounge around the messy bedroom in search of the charger.
Sans peels his boxers off, exposing his dripping need to the open air. He teases a finger around his folds, before slipping it inside.
"Ah, Papyrus," Sans wheezes, eyes falling shut. All he can do is hope Papyrus returns home soon.
Papyrus loathes to admit it, even within the privacy of his own mind, but he's actually having fun here. The temmies live a private life, sequestered in a cave far from the rest of Waterfall's populace.
Some would call their methods of living crude and primitive, but after days of discussion and observation, Papyrus has discovered their quirky ways of doing things are as, if not more, successful than the usual ways.
The temmies demonstrate their basket-weaving techniques, swift and efficient, and create baskets of better make than the ones he sees in the merchant stalls throughout New Home. Their clan has the unusual trait of limbs that can elongate, which they have honed their fighting skills around. Papyrus watches one of the temmies whip out their arm and snatch a fish from the river, fifteen feet away. He learns that their usage of long limbs has led them to evolve sharp vision; they're capable of seeing significantly farther than the usual monster. The strategist inside him is delighted at the idea of utilizing temmies in battle, to scout areas as sharp-eyed lookouts.
But perhaps the most useful information he learns comes about when the village elders sit him down to discuss their history. The Temmie Clan stretches back through eons of monster history. Some temmies of note served as advisors to King Asgore back when they were above the surface. Most temmies stay close to home, however, and a great strokes of genius have thus passed by unnoticed. In addition to devising cures for several allergic reactions, the temmies are on the cusp of creating a supplemental medicine for monsters who have fallen down.
"Most monsters dust those who have fallen. Free EXP. But Tem family. Tem protect Tem." One of the elders explains. Papyrus can understand that.
Unfortunately, their isolation and anti-killing policy leaves them with terribly low LV compared to other monsters. If Papyrus were to bring a temmie into his court, there's no doubt several of the unrulier monsters would try to pick them off. Papyrus already has his hands full with one low HP monster to worry about, so he reluctantly gives up the thought of bringing one of them back to the castle.
Papyrus parts ways with the Temmie Clan after setting a date for a seconds meeting later in the month. He is led by a temmie though the tall ferns and dark tunnels, back to the main road. The small monster takes a dizzying amount of twists and turns to get there; Papyrus has little hope of replicating the path and making it back to the village on his own, even if he wanted to.
As Papyrus heads to his rendezvous point, where his personal guards are waiting to escort him home, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. The temmies don't bother with Core-generated electricity, so Papyrus carefully rationed the battery charge to keep the device powered throughout the week. Now that the reception is better, he sends off a quick text to Sans to confirm that he's on his way back home.
Papyrus frowns, scrolling up to look at their previous messages. His brother's responses grew increasingly sporadic throughout the week, until he stopped responding altogether.
He missed Sans. He almost pines for their Snowdin days, their simplistic nine to five weekdays. As their relationship strengthened, Sans spent less time at Grillby's, and Papyrus less time training, the pair of them sitting together to watch mindless television, or indulging in their more carnal desires.
Things are different, now—their time together needs to be planned, fit into a complex schedule. Kingship is what Papyrus had wanted, but it is not without some measure of sacrifice on his part.
The guards are in sight up ahead, and there's still no response from Sans. He tucks away his phone, irritation building in his soul.
He knows Sans would have enjoyed himself, if he'd given the village a chance. He could have persuaded Sans to accompany him, but instead he accepted his brother's request to stay home, and no doubt fill their room with crumpled snack bags and unwashed sweaty socks.
Papyrus allowed him this, so the least Sans could've done in return was respond to his messages. He resolves to have words with his brother once he reaches the castle.
The journey home is painless, and Papyrus dismisses his guards as he reaches the castle gates.
He is hardly five steps inside the castle walls when a harried-looking servant approaches him.
"King Papyrus, we're so glad you've returned. There's something wrong with the queen."
The sharp claws of fear dig into his soul. He'd assumed Sans was being his lazy, irresponsible self when he stopped answering him. Papyrus hadn't even considered the notion that something could have happened to him.
Papyrus stiffens, and the servant balks under his severe gaze.
"Explain yourself."
"He shut himself in the bedchamber two days ago, and hasn't been out since." She wrings her hands. "We've left out food and drink for him, but it has remained untouched."
Papyrus pushes past her, making his way urgently through the castle, up the stairs that lead to the bedchamber. From his pocket he draws out a key; to ensure their safety, only two have ever been made, and the other is ostensibly on Sans' person.
Papyrus lets himself inside, shutting the door behind him. Sans has drawn the translucent curtains around the canopy bed, but as Papyrus comes closer he can see his brother's form shifting on the mattress.
Papyrus rips the curtain to the side.
"Sans, what's—"
Oh.
…Oh.
Sans ruts frantically against the edge of a pillow. He thumbs at his clit as he chews lightly at on the phalanges of his other hand. Soft whimpers of need escape his mouth. He's stripped naked, and the sheets have been soiled several times over. A sweet, heady musk pours out from him, the scent alone causing magic to pool at Papyrus' own pelvis.
Papyrus swallows, hard. Sans has entered his heat.
"Pap, Papy," Sans breathes. He crawls over to the edge of the bed, expression hungry. "I waited for you, so long. Too long."
Before Papyrus can blink, Sans unbuckles his pants, and tugs down his boxers.
"Sans!" Papyrus yelps out as Sans licks a stripe down his pubic arch, encouraging his magic to take form.
There might as well be stars in his brother's eyes as he takes Papyrus' cock in his mouth. On a usual day, Sans moves almost unbearably slow, takes his time. But with his heat coursing through him, Sans is the opposite. He bobs his head up and down Papyrus' length at a desperate pace. One of his hands comes up to work and squeeze the bottom of Papyrus' shaft, while the other continues to pleasure himself, thrusting three whole fingers in and out of his slickened pussy.
"Ah, Sans, that's so good." Papyrus encourages him. Sans can't speak, so he hums around Papyrus' cock, adding to the pleasurable stimulation.
Papyrus grips the back of Sans' skull, encouraging him to take more and more of him. It's not too long before Sans' fast and hard ministrations have Papyrus about to burst. But right as he reaches the edge of climax, Sans draws back, Papyrus' erection sliding out of his mouth with a soft pop.
Sans rubs his cheek against the tip of Papyrus' swollen erection.
"Mark me," Sans begs, breath coming quick and uneven. "Make me yours."
Sans gives his cock a few more fast pulls and Papyrus cums on Sans' face. His brother's tongue flicks out, and he licks around the corners of his mouth, swallowing down some of Papyrus' release. He gazes up at Papyrus with a glazed, adoring expression.
"I need more. Please?"
"Dear god, Sans." Heat turns his brother into such a lascivious beast.
Papyrus starts undressing. Sans is eager to help, clumsily unbuttoning his shirt as Papyrus pulls off everything else.
Papyrus climbs into the bed with his lover.
"Let me take care of you."
"Mmm, yes, Papy," Sans' hips buck at the empty air, the low timbre of Papyrus' voice enough to arouse him.
Papyrus pushes Sans down onto the bed. He presses two fingers to Sans' mouth. Sans' teeth part automatically, his tongue sucking on them, getting them nice and wet with his saliva.
"Alright, that's enough." Papyrus removes his fingers from Sans' mouth, bringing them lower, to his twitching hips. Sans hardly needs preparation, slick and open from days of using his own hands.
Papyrus plunges his fingers inside, and Sans' hips jerk up in response. His fingers curl inside his walls. Sans throws his head back, moaning with wanton abandon.
"Oh, Papy, more." Sans pleads. He grasps Papyrus' wrist in a trembling grip, trying to push him in harder, deeper. Papyrus rubs his fingers inside him, and it doesn't take long for Sans to orgasm, his release squirting out around Papyrus' fingers.
Sans' recovery period is a matter of minutes, and Papyrus moves on to the next stage of his plan. When both partners are not in a simultaneous heat, the experience can be difficult and draining for the one not affected. As soon as Papyrus gives in, slips his cock inside Sans, his lover won't let him stop until the heat is satisfied.
Papyrus removes his fingers from Sans' folds, and keeps his brother's gaze as he licks off his cum with slow, deliberate swipes of his tongue.
Papyrus chuckles as the simple action has Sans squirming. He leans forward, overtop of Sans, pinning him in place with his hands on either side of his brother's shoulders.
"Look at yourself, Sans." Papyrus purrs. "You've become such a little slut."
Sans' face colors, both from embarrassment and arousal.
"Sh-Shut up."
"Admit it, Sans." Papyrus shifts, pressing his knee to Sans' groin. His brother rocks against him, generating a gentle friction.
"Stop p-playing around," Sans gasps.
Papyrus presses his mouth to Sans' neck, reveling in the full body shudder that runs through him at Papyrus' warm breath blowing on his vertebrae.
"What did you imagine me doing to you, those days I was gone?"
Sans whines; his rutting against Papyrus' leg isn't enough to fully satisfy him. Papyrus is almost painfully aroused himself, but he denies them both what they want for the moment in favor of tormenting Sans.
"Describe it for me."
"I—I pictured, I, uh, y-you," Sans grasps for a scrap of higher brain function.
"Go on." Papyrus nuzzles into Sans' neck.
"You, c-coming home, and, and," Sans' fists clench and unclench in the sheets. "You push me down, and f-fuck me, faster and faster, filling me up—"
The mental image alone overwhelms him, and Sans' eyes flutter as he rolls his hips, coming again.
"My my, what's this?" Papyrus pulls his knee away, to watch the juices trickle out of him. "Cuming from just the thought of me inside you. And yet you claim you're not a slut."
"S-Screw you." Sans mutters, hiding his face in the crook of his arm.
Papyrus ducks his head lower, bringing his attention back to Sans' pelvis. He caresses the outer edges of bone, coming close to his pussy but then stopping just shy of it. Sans' breath quickens as minutes pass without Papyrus continuing any further than the feather-light touches.
"Stop f-fucking around!" Sans whimpers. "Just touch me already!"
"But Sans, I am touching you."
Papyrus continues to stoke the sensitive bones of his pelvis with one hand, and the other comes up to Sans' spine, blunted nails scraping lightly against the bone.
Sans wriggles at the pleasure, but lets out an agitated sigh.
"Papy, come on already. I—I want you inside me, please."
"All in due time, Sans."
Sans' hips jolt as Papyrus leans in, tongue lapping at his swollen clit. He drags his nails harshly down Sans' spine, his other hand toying with his coccyx.
"Mmnf, yes, fuck yes! Right—ah—right there, yes—"
Sans cums once again from all the stimulation, and Papyrus swallows it down.
Sans sags back against the bed, breathing hard, face beautifully flushed. Papyrus stokes Sans' femur idly, waiting for him to recover. He licks at the cum around his teeth. His unattended erection throbs, precum soaking the tip.
He misses the devious expression that flashes across Sans' face.
Papyrus stops short as his soul is captured with blue magic. Part of him is impressed Sans can summon this magic this complex considering the state he's in. The other part of him is filled with the panicked realization that he's no longer the one in control.
"Oomph!"
Sans uses his magic to toss Papyrus onto the bed beside him. He releases his hold on Papyrus' soul as he climbs on top of him, lining himself up.
"No more games." Sans growls, and slams himself deep down onto Papyrus' cock.
"Oh, f-fuck," Papyrus stutters out. Sans is warm and wet, wrapping around him perfectly.
"Heh. S-See, Pap, isn't this so m-much better?"
They get into a steady rhythm, Papyrus canting his hips up as Sans thrusts down, taking his entire length. Sans' tongue lolls out of his mouth, drool dripping down his chin, a total slave to pleasure.
"Hng, Sans, I'm close—"
"Fill me up, Papy, please—"
Papyrus' orgasm rolls over him, and he cums buried inside Sans. The sensation of Papyrus' seed spilling out inside him has Sans cuming as well, his walls tightening around Papyrus, milking his cock for every last drop.
Papyrus' erection is softening, but Sans continues to slowly rock against him.
"When did your heat start?" Papyrus asks, a bit breathless. Sans' increasing rhythm is coaxing him back into hardness.
"Papy, I don't even know what day it is." Sans thrusts down on him hard, drawing a sharp moan from the both of them. "All I know is I want to keep fucking until I pass out."
But Sans meets his eyes. The series of successive orgasms has given him a scrap of rationality back, taken a bit of the edge off. His look says that if Papyrus really wants him to stop, he will. He'll let Papyrus go and deal with the remainder of the heat himself.
Papyrus answers that look by gripping Sans' hips, urging him to go faster.
There's challenge in the sharp-toothed smirk he flashes up at Sans.
"Well? What are you dawdling for?"