Flipping the script(swapfell)part 1

chapter 7

He fought to make his memories of Papyrus work, to keep him calm, to give him something to look forward to—

—bashing Papyrus across the face with a glass bottle—

Sitting together and discussing what they might like...

—kicking the fucker and putting him in his place—

….starting out slow....

—forcing him to submit—

….......gentle touching..........

—commanding him to Sans's will—

….........................................oh gods.................

—and having the greatest goddamn orgasm of his LIFE.

Sans nearly broke the keyboard punching out his time card on the computer, snatching his bag and stalking out of the lab, barely waiting until he felt Hotlands's blasting heat before teleporting back to Snowdin. The icy coolness on his bones soothed the almost hungry heat that radiated from his soul, but not by much as he stomped through the snow to his house, deftly thinking that he'd probably stop by Muffet's for a drink—or six—but he paused in the snow when he saw the upstairs light on.

Papyrus was home.

Sans broke into a run, rushing through the door and dragging snow into the house as he looked around wildly. His soul pounded in his rib cage, filling his bones with a searing fire that was driving him to find Papyrus and—

He forced his drive back, closing the door and dropping his bag and lab coat on the floor, already sensing Papyrus's soul upstairs. He forced himself to NOT run, heading upstairs and to his bedroom, seeing pieces of armor having been slung off and dropped en route like a tantalizing trail to follow.

Ugh, this should NOT be that arousing.

He opened his bedroom door, any greeting dying in his mouth when he saw Papyrus.

His little brother was stripped of his armor and underclothes, bones littered with scrapes and chips and bruises, most of which Sans was absolutely CERTAIN were not present the last time he saw Papyrus. But what really struck him was that Papyrus was curled up tightly, his frame shaking so hard Sans could hear bones rattling.

Sans hurried over, his hands hovering over Papyrus's body, unsure of whatever he did would do more harm than good. “Oh gods, Papyrus...” he murmured, trying to find the source of what was causing such a reaction. His hands trembled, easing them closer to Papyrus's bones, wanting to know why Papyrus was so fragile, so hurt, so

—deliciously malleable.

Fuck, shut UP!

“Papyrus, please....” He gently touched Papyrus's arm. “Tell me wha—“

He was cut off when Papyrus let out a bone-rattling purring moan, the taller Skeleton's whole frame shaking under Sans's touch. Sans froze, staring down at Papyrus in shock.

WHAT.

“S...Sans...” Papyrus lifted his head, his eyelights glowing brightly as he looked up at his older brother. “Sans...please....!” His hands lifted, gripping at Sans's shirt and tugging hard enough to pop a button off, pulling Sans down to press their teeth together. Sans snapped out of his stupor, grabbing Papyrus's wrists and pinning them back, forming his tongue to swipe over Papyrus's teeth. Papyrus's jaw went slack, forming his own tongue to snake out and curl around Sans's, his bone-rattling purring getting louder.

Sans traced his tongue over Papyrus's teeth and maxilla, seeing that the crack over where Papyrus's missing tooth was having gotten larger. He made a mental note to commission a replacement before sitting up, licking his own teeth as he stared hungrily down at his brother.

Papyrus looked so utterly cracked and ready to be shattered, his soul pulsing in his rib cage and his skull damp with sweat and barely-shed tears, looking both at his wit's end and desperate for whatever Sans had to give.

So beautiful, so innocent...so ready to be DESTROYED...!

Sans gave his head a tiny shake, letting go of Papyrus's left wrist and putting his hand on Papyrus's face instead, tracing his thumb over the maxilla crack. “...rough couple of weeks, Papyrus?” he asked, his voice coming out more infantilizing than he had intended, but if anything, Papyrus seemed to APPRECIATE the babying, giving Sans a small nod and even sniffled like a child.

“....it's too much, Sans...” Papyrus murmured, leaning his head to Sans's hand. “I hate it so much...I hate being in charge so much....!” Tears leaked out of his eye sockets. “I feel....like I'm...going to fucking BREAK...!”

“Shhhh...” Sans shushed, smiling down at him. “Just tell me what you want, Papy....big brother will take care of you.”

Papyrus sniffled again, flicking his eyelights to Sans, the glow wavering but determined. “...hit me.”

THAT gave Sans some pause. “...what?” he asked, caught off guard.

“H...hit me,” Papyrus repeated, squirming slightly under Sans. “....hit me....c..choke my cervicals....force me down with blue magic—“

“Reset.” Sans let go of Papyrus and sat back on the bed next to him, his hands clenching tightly into the duvet. Papyrus paused before sitting up, looking confused.

“...Sans....?”

“Why....would you want me to DO that, Papyrus...?” Sans said, looking over Papyrus's still-injured bones. “You're.....you're already HURTING, Papyrus....and I couldn't just—“

“Because you WANT to,” Papyrus cut in matter-of-factly, hunching over and curling his arms around himself. “....I know you do...you....want to HURT something...” He peered over at Sans. “....it's safe this way....you can....let it all out, Sans.....let it all out on ME....” His gaze went unfocused, his hands reaching up to press to his skull, a fingertip digging into the crack in his maxilla. “...I can take it, Sans...I WANT it...”

Sans's hands shook, taking another look at Papyrus's bones. “...Papyrus...” he murmured, shakily reaching out and touching a large bruise on Papyrus's right femur. “...did...you do all this to yourself? Are...all of those scars YOURS?” He felt his soul jump when Papyrus nodded. “...oh my gods, Paps...!”

“It makes me...feel good, Sans...” Papyrus said, his voice shaking softly. “I WANT you to, Sans...I can take it.”

Sans clenched his hands tightly, shaking his head. “I couldn't...” he choked out. “Paps, what if I....”

“I'll say the safeword if I don't like it,” Papyrus said, his voice firm. “I'll say it if I think you're getting too close to seriously hurting me.” He reached over, covering Sans's hands with his own. “I swear on my soul, Sans...I'll stop it if I don't like it.” He leaned his skull against Sans's. “...but I don't want you holding back on ME either. I can take it, Sans. Anything you want, I can take it.”

Sans let out a shaky breath, pulling his hands from under Papyrus's and lifting them to his brother's face. “...do you SWEAR you'll tell me if it's too much?” he demanded. Papyrus nodded.

“On my soul,” he swore.

Sans's left eyelight blazed blue.

“Good.”