Flipping the script(swapfell)part 1

chapter 4

“Oh, what, did yer fuckin' sock fall on th' floor an' I wasn't here to pick it up for you?” Sans mocked back. “You POOR THING. Gods forBID I'm not here t' wait on you hand an' foot, CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL FUCKIN' GUARD!”

CRACK

Papyrus's eyes widened, regretting .3 seconds after slapping Sans's face for doing so. The silence after that strike was the worst thing he'd ever heard, and it sent him into instant panic mode. “....oh my gods, Sans, I'm so sorry, I—“

CRASH

Papyrus was sent right to the floor when Sans smashed his alcohol bottle into his face, glass flying everywhere. Papyrus laid there frozen for a long moment, trying to comprehend what just happened, then raised a shaking hand to his face, feeling deep scratches on his maxilla, right over the still-sensitive area where his fang had been beaten out. “...S....Sans....” he stammered, lifting his eyelights to his older brother just in time to see Sans swipe his foot out and kick him in the head.

Sans's hands clenched and unclenched, his breath coming out in short, uneven heaves as he glowered down at his brother, his own eyelights blazing in their sockets. There was a burning in his soul that fed acidlike fire into his bones, making his hands twitch with the urge to HURT. BEND. BREAK.

All the agony that had been piled onto his shoulders, all the guilt and hurt and anger that had built up had reached its limit, and he was DONE SHOULDERING IT. This ungrateful, lazy ASSHOLE just pressed the WRONG FUCKING BUTTON, and by GODS, Sans wasn't going to suppress it anymore!

Sans reached down and grabbed Papyrus by the shirt, dragging him out of the kitchen. Papyrus shifted as he was dragged, rubbing his throbbing head. “....Sans, what—“

“Shut th' fuck up,” Sans said, his voice even but hard as diamond as he dragged Papyrus to the living room and threw him back into the couch. The back of Papyrus's head hit the wall, making him see stars for the third time today.

“Shit, Sans—!”

“I said...” Sans hissed, holding up his hand and turning Papyrus's soul blue, pulling him forward slightly before shoving him back again hard. “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He bore down heavily on the blue magic, pinning Papyrus back on the couch.

Papyrus tried to shake off the swimming in his head, jerking under the blue weight on his soul, barely able to move. He could barely believe that Sans's proficiency in blue magic was THIS strong. He struggled to sit up through the blue hold, only to be shoved back, Sans's hand clenched firmly around his neck.

“Did I SAY you could move!?” Sans growled, squeezing the vertebrae tightly. “YOU don't get t' do ANYTHING without me tellin' ya, Papyrus! You should be fuckin' USED to it by now!” His free hand grabbed his pants and undid them. “Form a tongue.”

Papyrus's eyelights constricted, jerking again against the force of the blue hold, then gagged when Sans squeezed his neckbones again and leaned down until there was barely an inch of space between their skulls. “Do NOT fuckin' test me, Papyrus,” Sans hissed. “You don't even KNOW how fuckin' close I am t' bashin' yer skull in an' bendin' ya over th' couch. So keep yerself STILL, form a fuckin' tongue, an' DON'T. FUCKIN'. TEST ME AGAIN.”

Papyrus's bones rattled slightly as his frame trembled, his jaw lowering as magic pooled in his mouth, forming an orange tongue. Within moments, Sans had his teeth pressed to Papyrus's, his own constructed tongue entwined sloppily around it. The hand around his neck began constricting and relaxing, Sans's thumb pressing between the bones and into the disk, making Papyrus gag again.

Sans leaned back slightly, licking over his teeth as he eyed his brother almost hungrily. “See what happens when ya listen?” he said. “I can be NICE, Paps.” His hand tightened around the vertebrae. “Don't ya WANT me to be nice?”

A tear drizzled down Papyrus's cheekbone as he gave a brief little nod. Sans grinned, shifting to stand on the couch cushions so his pelvis was level with Papyrus's face. “If ya want me to be nice, then you'll do EXACTLY what I tell ya,” he said, letting go of Papyrus's neck to grab the back of his skull instead. “So instead of usin' yer mouth to backtalk me, put it to some GOOD use.”

Papyrus gave another short nod, slithering his tongue from between his teeth and putting it to work around the more sensitive areas of Sans's pubic bones. Sans let out a loud moan, pressing Papyrus closer as he threw his head back.

“SHIT—“ he hissed, arching his hips forward. “Should've......made y'do this...AGES ago....!” A drag of Papyrus' tongue across his ischium almost had his legs giving out, leaning his body forward to rest his free hand against the wall, feeling his magic coalesce in his pelvis and around Papyrus's tongue.

Papyrus clenched his eye sockets shut, squirming his tongue harder as he felt Sans's phalanges clench painfully into the back of his skull. His hands and arms were still being weighed down heavily by the blue hold on his soul, and all he could do was clench his hands into the couch fabric and use what he COULD move to try to push his brother over the edge as quickly as possible to end this.

He was scared. He was legitimately and admittedly scared. This was something new and terrifying and he felt helpless, at Sans's complete mercy. If he had been less wracked with guilt and worry, more rested and aware, he would be able to break through the blue magic, but instead he was weak and pitiful and—

Sans let out a keening wail above him, loud and drawn out with enough force for Papyrus to feel it rattle through Sans's bones and ectoplasm. Papyrus flicked his eyelights up, seeing Sans's face flushed dark blue, his ectoplasmic tongue hanging from between his jaws, and blue eyelights glimmering brightly.

—more turned on than he'd ever been in his life.

Not in all their time together did Papyrus every hear those sounds from Sans, see this kind of reaction, and JUST from using his TONGUE! Gods, was THIS what Sans had been hinting at before?

Papyrus shoved his guilt to the back of his mind, pressing in closer and dragging his tongue over the tip of Sans's coccyx, hoping to hear more of those sounds from Sans, and was not disappointed. Sans's voice shot up an octave, his bones rattling as Papyrus felt a surge of magical wetness coat his tongue and jaw. The blue magic holding Papyrus's soul was lifted in that instant, and Papyrus's hands shot up to catch his brother before he fell.

Sans's whole frame shook, none of his limbs really wanting to function momentarily, and allowed himself to slump against Papyrus as he recovered, feeling the rush drain from him as fatigue settled in. For the life of him, his reason for being mad was being drowned in the drunken haze in his skull, and all he wanted to do now was sleep. Yeah, sleep sounded like a good idea now, he hadn't done that in a good while...

He let his body relax for the first time in what seemed like forever, only deftly aware of a warm hand petting his skull and lulling him further into sleep