Chapter Text
Sans didn’t know how, but somehow, you went from sitting on his lap, to grabbing him under his femurs and carrying him like he was light as a pillow, to throwing him down on his back atop your mattress. His eyes were closed the whole time, as he kissed you, and now that he opened them, the first thing he saw was his own legs stuck out awkwardly to either side in the air and you, his beautiful partner, his perfect partner, standing between them with an impish smile on your face.
He wondered if you could feel his bones trembling with anticipation. This was exactly the kind of thing he’d been fantasizing about all day.
At some point, you’d ripped the stained shorts from around his ankles and thrown them to the floor, so now he was underneath you on the bed, completely naked from the hips down. His cock still stood in a strong state of erection, clearly not exhausted in the slightest by his self-pleasure. Even more prominent than that, however, his soul hummed and glowed effortlessly through the fabric of his shirt. He always loved you enough for it to make his soul glow, of course, but this point in his soul cycle always threw his magic into overdrive, and that meant excess light and heat, which meant you could easily make out its rounded, surprisingly healthy silhouette.
He was tired of paying attention to his own body—a task he was now entrusting to you. And he was tired of only being able to imagine yours. Now here you were, standing over him, and it certainly didn’t help calm his rampant arousal that you were still dressed for work. For a meeting, even. You were looking especially neat, prim, and proper.
Oh, stars. He wouldn’t mind letting you whip him with your belt right about now. He stiffened and looked down at your hands when he heard the clinking, metallic sound of your belt buckle. But instead, you just loosened it and cast it aside.
“You know,” you purred lasciviously, rubbing your arousal up against his, “you could’ve just told me. I might not have been able to come home any earlier. But I could’ve sent you some pictures. Teased you. Made you want it.” You smirked at him, hooking a hand around one of his ribs like you were interrogating him. “What were you masturbating to?”
Sans covered his face, but not before you saw his cheeks turn blueberry-tone.
“i’unno.”
“Yes you do.”
“’sembarrassing, just fuck me.”
Your other hand moved to his neck and wrapped firmly around his vertebrae. Skeletons can’t be choked, but it was an especially sensitive part of his body, so he shivered at the contact nevertheless.
“You don’t get to have me fuck you until you’re a good boy and tell me the truth.” You punctuated each word with a single grind of your hips against his member, driving him so up the wall his helpless moaning almost drowned out your words: “What. Were. You. Masturbating. To.”
“fuck. i—nngh. okay, i…” he panted, putting one skeletal hand over the one you had on his neck. You gave him a compassionate look and loosened your grip a little, seeming to think he might not like how rough you were being. But he did. He loved it. He pulled your hand to his neck even tighter than before and gave you what you wanted, his voice still hoarse with its excessive use today. “i can’t get you off my mind. been touching myself all day just thinking about the times we’ve been together. the first time we ever did it and we were so clumsy but so in love it didn’t matter. th—oh stars—” you were pushing him harder down on to the mattress with the hand you still had wrapped around one of his ribs, “the first time i got you off. sorry that uh, heh, wasn’t the first time we did it.”
“How many times do I have to tell you all is forgiven?” You leaned down and kissed him, then left your face so close to his that your nose brushed the tip of his nasal ridge. “Maybe I haven’t made myself clear. I wasn’t asking about your fantasies. I was asking what you were doing on your phone… and if maybe that silly voicemail you left had anything to do with it.”
“… babe. i’ve been at this all morning. of course the voicemail had somethin’ to do with it,” Sans told you, voice soft with embarrassment. But… it was a good kind of embarrassment. It fueled the endless fire in his soul, intensified the ache between his legs. Fuck, it took so little humiliation by you to turn him on so much. He took a deep breath and told you all at once, words strung together like jumbled tapestry, “iwasjerkin’ittoyourvoicemailmessageok?”
Your smile only grew marginally, as hilarious as that was. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. You’re adorable.” There was a swift release of pressure as both of your hands abandoned their grip on his bones and trailed down to lift his shirt. “But not as adorable as you’re gonna be when you’re ass-fuckin’-naked.”
As always, his usual chubbiness yielded no form as soon as his shirt was lifted. Instead, his beautiful bone structure was bared to you. Your eyes raked over them almost as tangibly as your fingers ever did, before your gaze fixed on his soul and didn’t look away. It reflected blue in your already-colorful-enough eyes.
“Whoa,” you remarked softly.
“heh. what? you’ve seen it before. nothin’ too special.”
“Of course it’s special.” You leaned down to kiss the ribs encasing it. “It’s you.”
He felt so happy he could cry, and he must have looked it, too, because when you lifted your head and looked at him again, your expression softened and you emphasized, “I mean it.”
“i love you.” In his soul-cycle-fogged mind, that was always of the highest priority.
“I love you, too.”
The next series of events happened in a flash, so sudden and so jarring his pleasured mind could hardly process it. You let go of him, gave him a little room to breathe. Took his left hand in yours. Kissed the back of it. Guided it down between his legs. Made him close his fingers around his own member.
“wh… what’s happening.”
“I’m gonna strip for you nice and slow. And if you haven’t cum by the time I’m naked, I’m gonna flip you over on your hands and knees and pump two out of you myself. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
Sans was stunned. “… i dunno how i’m s’posed to answer that,” he responded quietly. Because honestly, he loved the thought of being pinned under your naked body and jerked off to two mind-blowing climaxes in a row.
“We wouldn’t want that,” you clarified, hands smoothly working at the top button of your dress shirt. “Because that’s one less load of cum for you to fill me up with.”
“oh, stars…” he whispered, and either your words convinced him or simply turned him on so much he couldn’t help himself, because he scooted into a comfortable position, legs spread to give you a great view of his ministrations, and resumed what he’d been doing earlier. His stroking quickly fell into a rhythmic, hypnotized pattern, his eyes and his mind too focused on you to pay much attention to what he was doing to himself.
Your chest was revealed to him first. Fuck, he loved your chest. He loved the way it rose and fell with your breaths. He loved your rosy nipples and the way you got so disproportionally excited just from having something so small touched and pinched and played with. He loved that it was where your heart was, and he could rest his head there for hours, immerse himself in your gentle, caring presence and listen to that steady beating as the weight of all his troubles slipped effortlessly from his shoulders.
He loved your belly button. It was just such a silly feature of human anatomy. It always made him laugh, especially when he would try to stick his finger in it and you would try to slap his hand away.
Mmm. He was utterly transfixed as you slid your shirt off over your arms, and he got to watch your muscles shift under your skin. You weren’t extremely muscular or anything, but you were human, and you were strong. He could feel it every time you picked him up, every time you held him in your arms at all, every time you gripped some part of him in your fist. His eyes followed your shirt down your arms all the way to the floor, then refocused on you as you moved on to the zipper of your pants.
“C’mon, Sansy,” you encouraged him in a teasing coo. “You don’t have much longer. Show me how much you missed me.”
He didn’t need much longer. But he started to jerk himself off harder anyways, restraining himself only by raising his right hand to his mouth and biting down on the knuckle of his index finger. If he didn’t, he’d start moaning like an absolute whore.
And while he didn’t usually have a problem with that while the two of you made love, that was because you were usually fucking him and moaning right along with him. He got shy when he was going solo under your intense gaze.
“Awwwh. Don’t be shy, Sansy!” you called him out on it. Your fingers hooked delicately under the waist of your pants and dragged them down to mid-thigh, revealing bright teal undies with burgers printed on them.
Oh, stars, that was the sexiest thing in the world to him. His cock ached with need, even with the earnest treatment it was getting from his own hand. He was honest-to-god about to shoot his load over seeing you wearing underwear that he knew you bought with him in mind. Seeing the undeniable evidence of your own arousal through them. He whined softly around the finger he had jammed between his teeth.
“You want this, don’t you?” Your rubbed your hands from your hips downwards, graceful fingers curving to border your waiting genitals.
“yyyeeeeeessss!” His voice was as strained and tense as his body. He couldn’t take it anymore. He groaned in pleasure, cock swelling visibly in his hand, then utter, desperate, blissful relief as he released several powerful spurts of cum. He hunched over as he came, causing the first few to decorate his ribs with velvety, just-slightly-pale-blue substance, and the last few weaker ones trickled down over his hand. Everything slowed at once in his temporary, post-orgasmic bliss. His stroking, his vocalizing, his breathing. His body slumped a bit, and he took his finger from his mouth to support his weight on the mattress with his hand.
“Damn,” you purred to him under your breath. Your pants were still only halfway down your legs. “That was hot. Watching you cum for me like that. Good boy.”
“th-thanks.” He stared down at the mess he made and internally cringed at his own reply. He genuinely enjoyed the dynamic between the two of you in bed, but you were always so damn smooth, and he was always so damn awkward. Why did he have to be like that? The submissive one could be cool and suave too, right?
But as you moved over him like that, wearing nothing but those underwear and that hungry look in your eyes, he forgot anything but the dizzying fact that he was the only one you needed. Just like you were the only one he wanted.
You completed each other in every facet of your life together. Sexuality was no exception.
“That cute little dick ready for more?” you asked huskily. He didn’t respond right away, eyes and attention drawn to your hand sliding gracefully under the waistband at your hip and beginning to pull your underwear down. Words became hard to form as he took in the sight of your hip bones and the way your flesh curved so beautifully over them.
And of course he couldn’t help but stare at your genitals once they were visible. Your personal little pleasure center, accessible to only one man in the world right now, and it was him. His soul hummed a little louder, betraying his excitement, when he watched you pour a generous amount of lube over your fingers and use them to get your hole wet for him.
“i, uh… i dunno,” he told you, more because he forgot the question than because he was still in his extremely short refractory period.
“Mmm. Then you know the safeword if you need it.”
But he was still in his extremely short refractory period. That became evident when, with your underwear out of the way and the both of you finally, mutually, entirely naked, you positioned him at your entrance and dropped your weight on to him, all at once. He hilted in you with a startled gasp, that torturously tickling, overstimulated feeling causing him to instinctively push your hips up a little, to pull himself out of you.
But he didn’t say the safeword.
So you started to fuck him. Hard.
You didn’t know squealing was a thing that Sans’ vocal chords were built to do, but by god, they did it when you started to ride his overstimulated cock like that. You were probably the only person in the world who would be able to recognize his voice when it shot up that high. He squealed, he swore under his breath, and with all other options exhausted (except telling you to stop, which was the last thing he wanted to do right now), he just started to laugh. Deep, and breathy, and excited, and disbelieving. Like even after all this time together with you, he could still hardly believe you wanted him so badly you couldn’t even wait for him to recover from his last orgasm. He let his body ragdoll on the bed, not wanting to have to do a thing but focus on you and what you were making him feel.
You were taking him. Making him yours. Using his magic-fueled body to get yourself off.
Fuck yeah, he liked that.
He'd started out with his arms thrown carelessly over his head, like he was on a rollercoaster, or just being the pillow prince he usually was. But as the delicious torture of being driven into you again and again turned to numbness, and then slowly back to pleasure, he reached down and gently put his hands over the ones you had so firmly gripping his hips.
“Therrre you go,” you sang to him, your voice so soft and encouraging, even as you absolutely plowed him. “That’s it. Just had to give it some time, huh?” You chuckled, confident and smug, a noise he could never get tired of. “You feel good, don’t you, Sansy?”
“mmhmm!” His voice came out as desperate as his heaving breaths. You weren’t letting up, and he didn’t want you to. He knew he should be weary, but he felt like he could just lay here and let you fuck him for a week. “oh, fuck!”
“Oh stars,” you corrected him with an especially hard thrust of your hips, but he continued anyways.
“i’ve wanted this all day. this is all i’ve wanted. all i’ve needed. please…”
He put his arms up over your shoulders, pulled you in closer, and whispered one of your favorite words:
“harder.”
Well. Who were you to refuse him that?
You braced yourself on the bed and quickened your pace, even as your vigor was beginning to make you pant for air. Your expression was twisted in pleasure and concentration. You were putting so much into this. Into making him feel good.
Mmm. How could he be ungrateful? He had to cum for you again.
This one came easier than the last, contrary to the usual trend of the later the consecutive orgasm, the harder it is to squeeze it out. Usually, he had plenty of false starts before he actually climaxed, plenty of oh-stars-it’s-about-to-happen moments that waned again.
But this time, the very first one came to fruition.
His arms tightened and hugged you, forcing you to collapse down on top of him as his hips bucked wildly. It came on so suddenly and happened so fast, you didn’t even realize he’d had a full-on orgasm until you felt his cum filling your hole and dripping back down his member with each sloppy thrust. The skin around your entrance became sticky with the substance.
“s-sorry,” he mumbled pathetically.
“Why?” You slowed, but didn’t stop, that beautiful, confident smirk still on your lips. “That’s not all you’ve got, is it, baby boy?”
He shuddered, arousal clashing with overstimulation at the mention of one of his favorite bedroom nicknames for him.
“n-no. hell no. keep goin’.”
He happily welcomed the return of your previous, enthusiastic thrusting. But his cock was being a little more stubborn this time. He didn’t stay overstimulated for too long, but he plateaued at the point of feeling nothing but basic touch for awhile.
Still. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t enjoying the sex. It meant he got a little while to focus on you. You were so gorgeous when the only thing on your mind was fucking him. You were always so beautiful when you moved with such aggression and vigor. In a sexual sense, sure, but in an aesthetic and an emotional sense as well. He loved you so much. Loved your passion, your energy, your dominance. He wanted nothing more than to put the rest of his life in your hands. He would have been more than happy to let you use him as your little fucktoy until you reached your own sexual satisfaction.
But you noticed he was having a hard time getting back into it. So you gave him a break.
Well, not really. You gave his penis a break.
Cupping his cheek in your hand, you told him, “Your face is really cute. But I think I’m gonna ride it for awhile.”
And he consented to that with a small, wide-eyed nod.
It was fair enough. He needed a little time to recover down there, physiologically. But you still deserved your own pleasure.
He was always especially good at this. This certainly wasn’t the first time you’d done it—he gladly let you fuck his face whenever you wanted. He was especially good at it, because he never put up a fuss and skeleton monsters didn’t need to breathe.
For some reason, he was even more shy about his ecto-tongue than he was about his ecto-cock, so he never really let you see it. He only ever let you feel it, like he was doing now. Moving his head along with the gentle thrusts of your hips, licking up and down your most sensitive zone. It felt even better than any human tongue ever could. Warm, wide, thick, wet, and smooth.
He didn’t even moan, as much as he enjoyed it. When he was giving you oral, it was all about you. When his hands grabbed on to your ass, it wasn’t for the physical sensation of doing so. It was to pull you closer, drive his tongue deeper into your sensitive center.
He didn’t stop until you screamed the fact that you were cumming, and rode his face to the point of your own completion.
Now both of you were panting, blushing, recovering. Post-orgasmic. But not done. The both of you could feel it in the air that you weren’t done just yet.
His cock still stood stiff, protruding proudly from his pelvis.
And as relieved and exhausted as you were when you scooted your hips back away from his face and allowed him to look up at you again, you still had that hungry look in your eyes.
“… one more in a minute?” he breathed, savoring the smell of your sweat and arousal on his face.
“One more in a minute.”
For the first time that entire night, things truly slowed on both sides. You took a moment to be tender with each other. He pulled you on top of him to cuddle. You flopped on your side, and took him with you so that you were both lying in such a fashion, facing each other.
Smiling.
Happy.
“You’re a horny little fucker when you’re having these soul cycles, you know that?”
“that’s not my fault, now is it?”
You both laughed softly, tiredly, and nuzzled your sweaty foreheads together.
“And here I was thinking I was going to head right back to work as soon as I checked on you.”
“heheheh. i’d like to see ya try.”
“Mmm. I’d probably end up touching myself under my desk thinking about you.”
“mmm.” He adopted an exaggerated, cheesy villain voice. “we’re not so different, you and i.”
“Goofball.” A quiet, tender moment having passed, you slowly rolled him back over on to his back. As always, he let you maneuver him however you wanted. “… You ready?”
He nodded eagerly.
“i’m ready.”
Just one more.
You were both too exhausted to work up to the pace you’d been going at before. Your motions were smoother this time. More languid. But no less stimulating. You rested your hands on his ribcage and pushed him down into the mattress that way this time.
And you moved so beautifully. Just as before, Sans couldn’t take his eyes off you. All he could do was lie there and let you ride him, totally helpless to your ministrations.
The rolling of your hips.
The way you swept your hair out of your face.
The harmony your voices formed as you panted so heavily together.
You needed each other. Absolutely, desperately needed each other. To you two, that was what it meant to be in love. It meant feeling things—things like this, among many others—that you couldn’t feel by yourself or with anyone else.
And making sure each other felt the same.
His soul flared. It felt like every particle in his body flared. Oh, stars, he was about to cum again and it was going to be so good. Even better than everything else that night. Better than all the times he’d made himself cum thinking about you, better than making himself cum looking at you, even better than cumming inside you earlier.
He loved you. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you. Helplessly, passionately, deliriously.
And it was entirely mutual.
His last climax was one so powerful he squeezed his eyes shut and forgot to breathe. So powerful he didn’t believe that there was any way it didn’t exhaust the rest of the magic in his body. He screamed. Anybody else would think that he was getting murdered or something if he screamed like that, but just for you, he screamed in pleasure.
And you screamed, too.
You both knew that this was your last one for the night, and by god, your bodies were making it count. You came at the same time, your body squeezing rhythmically around him, and his member pumping you full with his fluid for the second time that night. Neither of you stopped vocalizing your pleasure until the moment had long passed, and you were left hunched over him, catching your breath as his magic, finally spent and completely satisfied, dissipated back into the rest of his body.
You collapsed on his bare, appendage-less bones and hugged him close, and he hugged you back.
“that…” he breathed, seeming to think for a moment before continuing, “i think that was the best we’ve ever had.”
“Yeah. For sure.” You swallowed, your throat dry after so much exertion. “… What do you think did it? The slow buildup?”
“mmm. maybe. The fancy clothes you had on?”
“Hehe. The fact that I let you drag me away from work just to make passionate love to you?”
“first time you grabbed my throat like that. that was pretty hot.”
You smiled at each other for a moment.
“… but seriously though, i just think it’s ‘cause i love you more every day, and so every day, i love you more than i’ve ever loved ya before in my life.”
“You know what? Yeah.” You kissed his forehead, even though it was sweaty. “That sounds right to me.”