Last night's love affair is looking vulnerable, again.
Frisk felt his hot breath press against her cheek, with a guttural grunt pressed between peaceful little snores. She figured he always had an endearing element about him when he slept. She fixated her cold, glassy brown eyes on Sans, laying content. She couldn't help but curl her lips slightly at the warmth given off by him.
She lifted her skinny legs off the bed, plunging her head into her palms. Emerging from the fluffy blankets, the sharp, cold, morning air hit her half-naked body. Suddenly, she felt a pair of eyes gazing at her from behind. She shivered slightly, although remained relieved knowing it was only Sans.
"Got what you wanted last night, huh?" His tone was teasing, as she peered down realizing she had only been wearing a pair of lace panties. Not that she cared. He was her "boyfriend" after all. Uncanny as it was for the two to be together, equally their relationship was far from conventional. Loving, perhaps. Healthy, perhaps not.
Frisk was an experimental girl. Sans made sure she could explore to her heart's content, so long as this privilege would be his, too. Frisk hadn't known what to call it over the years. For awhile she supposed she was just another girl to Sans, simply held together by the fact he'd known her since she was young. ''An open-relationship''? ''Friends with benefits''? ''Relationship''? It remained nameless. Frisk would attempt to purge herself of all envy in her system when she would arrive home to Sans with someone else, whilst her mood was thawed tumbling passionately into someone else in an intoxicated frenzy.
In both of their lives, people came and went, backwards and forwards, but Frisk and Sans always remained seemingly together, as if in place.
Frisk parted her lips to allow a sigh to escape as she salvaged a shirt from their unkempt room. She took a seat on the mattress, placed in a slapdash manner on the floor. She fumbled for her belongings on the make-shift "bedside table" for her lighter and pack of cigarettes. Much to her dismay, the table was empty.
Sans was slumped lazily on the mattress, his eyes crawling up her back. She turned her head, and her eyes met his. The gaze was long, but meaningless. His long stare engulfed her, but the silence was broke when he let out a small, sadistic smile, "What? Is this where you expect me to say 'I love you' or something?"
Frisk felt daggers through her chest at the mention of the word 'love' when it came up with Sans, yet disguised this, rolling her eyes at the remark. He smirked, letting his hand glide across her pale-skinned, skinny thigh. Her pain was met with a quickening pulse, and within seconds she was powerless to his touch.
"No." He spoke up, rising from his position on the bed, "Last night was enough for you, kiddo. Don't wanna tire you out too much." He remarked, with a teasing tone as his eyes scanned over her thin, bony body. "Look after yourself today, won't ya'? I'm going out, so if you don't mind terribly keepin' an eye out for Papyrus today.." Frisk responded with a small nod, after a short pause to recover from San's teasing remarks.
"You're a real peach, Frisk." He grinned playfully, briskly leaving as he so often did.