Words: 8577
And here is part 2
Prepare yourself - it's a long one
Also, this is my first time writing smut so please go easy on me-
New Years Eve - New Years Day
Warnings: sex jokes, cursing, some awkward flirting, teasing, becomes nsfw at ~ warning line, sex, makeout scenes, hickeys, long kisses, pinning (against wall, against sheets), praise, rewarding, slight punishment, generally pretty kinky
Human AU
Ftm!Mettaton
Sub.!Mettaton, Dom.!Papyrus
Only five minutes left.
Five minutes until the end of the year, five minutes until the world moves forward again, five minutes to find him.
Scratch that.
Four.
Mettaton knocks on the door to Papyrus' room and waits for an answer, but when one doesn't come he gently opens the door and peeks in. He's not here? Where could he be?
Panicking slightly on the inside, Mettaton pulls back and closes the door again, his brows furrowed. He starts to walk down the hall when he notices a large glass door down at the end of one of the hallways. Curiosity piqued, he starts to make his way towards it.
How did he not notice this before now?
He quietly opens the sliding glass door, the cool December air slapping his face and arms harshly. He embraces the spiking feeling, taking a deep breath and letting his eyes close softly. He opens them again as he exhales. The door rumbles as he slides it shut again, and it clicks into place before he lets go and steps back, casting his gaze out over the edge of the balcony. Eyes wide, he leans against the wooden railing and stares at the cosmos above, the lights of the city stretching out for miles in all directions. The stars glisten and gleam, looking far closer than they really are, the deep blue and purple sky seemingly only just out of reach from the ends of his fingers.
"It's a beautiful view, isn't it?"
Mettaton jumps a foot off the ground, his entire body flinching as he turns to finally find the man he has been looking for over the past hour.
Papyrus, a rather thick-looking white coat wrapped around him, his scarf flapping in the gentle breeze, looking at the shorter boy through the corners of his eyes, his head partially turned to the left. A small, sly smile haunts his lips. Mettaton can feel his face warming even in the biting air as goosebumps ripple across his exposed arms.
You really didn't think this through? Kinda stupid.
He lets a breathy chuckle leave him, letting his eyes roam out over the cityscape below, nodding gently. The sight really is one to behold.
A twirling mix of purples and dark blues high above, the moon smiling brightly down on the two boys. A gorgeous ring of soft light surrounds it, the stars shining in random clusters. The star Sirius sits proudly atop the land, watching over the people who await the new year's arrival. A general air of anticipation hangs around, emanating from every person, every house, every street. It's thick in the air, weighing on the shoulders of most people, while some hold theirs in their hands and bounce with excitement as if gifted with extra energy. Twinkling lights shine brightly through closed curtains and blinds as far as the eye can see, encircling every house. All in all, the new year will be welcomed with wide open arms.
Mettaton exhales gently, his breath fogging up and drifting away on the breeze, travelling far over the heads of the children who run around in their back gardens in the town. A few parents' cries and shouts echo. Some kids run inside, while others get company in the cold. Dogs bark, cats slink through the streets, a buzz is in the air.
"It really is." He sighs quietly, and Papyrus lets out another short, breathy chuckle.
The raven-haired boy shivers, running his hands up and down against his arms in a futile attempt to fight the chills. Papyrus raises an eyebrow slightly before extending his left arm towards him. Cautiously watching him, Mettaton shuffles closer and Papyrus attempts to wrap half of the giant coat, which Mettaton guesses must actually be Asgore's, around his frame.
Eyes wide in confusion, Mettaton looks across at Papyrus the best he can through his hair. Papyrus frowns.
"This may not work as well as I hoped it would..." Mettaton simply giggles before slipping out and heading back inside to grab his own jacket from his room.
As he opens the door to his bedroom, however, his dark brown eyes land on the watch on his left wrist.
23:58
Shit.
Panic levels rising rapidly, Mettaton snatches his jacket from the end pole of his bed, slipping it on and shutting the door behind him again. He practically runs across the hall to the balcony, yanking the door open and stepping back out. He makes his way directly to Papyrus, repeating his prepared question in his head a few times.
The white-haired boy smiles softly when his eyes land on Mettaton again, and the rehearsed words flee from his mind, the red blush on his cheeks replacing them. He nibbles on his bottom lip as he starts worrying.
"H-hey Papyrus, can I ask you something?" Shit, he stuttered, he's going to give himself away-
"Of course you can, what's up?" Papyrus' reply is calm, collected, though his mind visibly starts racing. Shit, he's done it now-
"U-um, I-I was just wondering, if... um..." his blush deepening, Mettaton sighs and shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut as he steps back from the railing and further away from Ppayrus. "Nothing. Just forget it." He runs his hand down the left side of his face, groaning beneath his breath.
How had he managed to ruin this so badly?
And worse, could he wait another year to get this chance again?
Would he still get this opportunity next year?
Most likely not.
Resigning himself to fate, he sighs again, his breath coming out shaky, uneven. A single tear escapes between his thick, black eyelashes, running down his left cheek to fall from his chin and splash onto the wooden floor. Mettaton roughly brushes the back of his wrist against his face, starting to turn away to his left when another hand gently grips his right one.
Papyrus' fingers intertwine with his, causing the raven-haired boy's breath to catch in his throat.
Papyrus reaches out and gently turns Mettaton's head to face him, his eyes wide and concerned.
"You know you can ask me anything, right? It doesn't matter what it's about." His voice is as soft and gentle as his touch. Mettaton, still unable to speak properly, simply nods, his blush deepening as he watches the white-haired boy's eyes.
The cries of children and adults alike ring out in the air, a terrifying alarm to Mettaton's ears.
"Ten!"
"Nine!"
"Hey, Papyrus..."
"Eight!"
"W-what I was gonna ask was..."
"Seven!"
"Um..."
"Six!"
The taller boy raises a single eyebrow at the flustered raven-haired boy in front of him, his face ducked away in a useless attempt to hide his growing blush.
"Five!"
Then, a penny drops in Papyrus' head. His jaw falls slightly before he chuckles softly in his throat, a small smile on his face as he slips his finger under Mettaton's chin.
"Four!"
Gently but firmly, he turns the shorter boy's head up to meet his own, that sly grin still present.
"Mettaton-"
"Three!"
"Will you share this new year with me?"
His brain seems to completely shut down upon hearing those words. His blush somehow burns even brighter, his entire body warming up gradually. He stumbles on an answer, rushed by the still-persistent countdown.
"Two!"
Mettaton forces his lips shut, simply resorting to a nod.
"One!"
Papyrus' grin widens, his breath spreading across the tip of Mettaton's nose as he leans forward slightly.
"Zero!"
"Happy new year!"
Immediately, Mettaton's eyes slip shut and his lips collide with Papyrus'.
Once again, like on Christmas night, a wave of relief and odd pride tear through his body, his fingertips tingling.
Papyrus' finger slowly moves from under Mettaton's chin to rest against his left cheek, his hand opening and bringing him closer. His other arm wraps around Mettaton's waist, gripping him gently but firmly, safe and secure against his own body. Mettaton sighs into the kiss, letting his hands glide to Papyrus' hips, sliding around him and holding him tight.
How long they stay pressed together, neither of them know, though people both inside the Dreemurr residence and in the town surrounding it still cheer and shout in joy when they do pull apart. Fireworks scream as they soar upwards, bursting loudly into a million multicoloured sparks. Mettaton yelps as he jumps, grabbing onto Papyrus' shirt and forcing the side of his head into his chest. Papyrus simply laughs under his breath as he wraps his arms around the startled Mettaton, gently running his fingers through his hair. Within seconds, the shock has passed, and he lets go of the white shirt, his eyes widening as he watches another firework explode. The bright purple reflects in his visible large, dark eye, a small gasp escaping his lips before being replaced with a smile.
Again, Papyrus turns Mettaton's head, and the two lock eyes for a second before their lips reconnect. Hunger pangs in the latter's stomach, and he pushes himself up onto his tiptoes as his arms snake around Papyrus' neck. In response, Papyrus wraps his left arm around the other boy's waist, holding him tight, while the other rises to his left cheek again, his fingers gently wrapping around his jawline and pulling him ever closer. Before either of them know it, Papyrus traps Mettaton between his own body and the wall next to the door. His lips slip open slightly as his breathing speeds up a fraction, and Papyrus holds back a grin.
Then someone clears their throat.
Papyrus snaps back and Mettaton squeaks quietly as their eyes land on Toriel in the doorway. Mettaton turns his face away, though little to no good comes of it. Toriel simply chuckles behind her hand for a second before speaking up.
"As pleasant as it is to see you two enjoying the new year so far, the kids are going to bed, so if you want to say goodnight I would recommend doing so now." Before either of the flustered boys can reply, she disappears back into the house, sliding the door shut and leaving the two alone again.
Breathing heavily, Mettaton leans against the wall even as Papyrus pulls away, his face darkening in the soft glow of the city lights.
"We should probably go say goodnight to them then." Papyrus lets a small laugh out before turning back to face Mettaton again, whose cheeks burn a bright red. His breath still hasn't returned and when he tries to stand on his own again, his knees wobble rapidly. Papyrus laughs before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around him. He gently kisses the end of Mettaton's nose, only causing him to blush more. Somehow. He lets out a breathy giggle and hides his face, turning his head to the left as he raises his hand to his cheek in an attempt to cover the bright, glistening colour.
"Who gave you permission to be this damn cute?" Papyrus wraps his hand around Mettaton's, pulling it away from his face as he uses his other to turn his head again. Mettaton stutters and giggles, flustered. He tries to flick his hair across his face without using his hands, another futile effort to hide. Papyrus softly laughs again and pulls Mettaton in to a tight but gentle embrace, which he melts into as his breathing steadies.
Papyrus then pulls back, planting a soft kiss on Mettaton's forehead and holding his hand, starting to head to the sliding glass door of the balcony. He opens it and lets Mettaton through first. He then shuts the door and lets go of the other boy's hand.
"Do you want to meet back on the balcony?" Mettaton nods quickly, and Papyrus smiles, nodding once before turning away and walking down the corridor towards where the kids' rooms are, Mettaton not far behind. Frisk launches themselves into Mettaton's arms upon seeing him, causing him to gasp and step back to regain his balance, laughing softly.
He gently sets Frisk on the carpet again and crouches down as they wrap their arms around his shoulders.
"Your face is very warm, are you okay?" They ask, and Mettaton hesitates, his mind desperately searching for some kind of reasoning.
"I guess I must have warmed up quite quickly after being out on the balcony." The excuse probably doesn't make any logical or scientific sense, so he won't be able to use it on Alphys if she happens to notice anything, but it works on Frisk, who simply hums quietly and lets go of him, running to Papyrus to say goodnight. Chara simply waves goodnight, not being very fond of physical touch like Frisk is. He returns the gesture, and Asriel steps forward to receive his quick hug before entering his room, having already said goodnight to Papyrus, and leaving the door ajar, most likely for Toriel to go tuck him in. Chara does the same after saying goodnight to Papyrus in a similar manner to how they did to Mettaton, and Frisk gives them both one last wave before going into their own room.
Mettaton chuckles as he stands again, and Toriel walks between Frisk's, Chara's and Asriel's rooms, closing each door as she exits. Mettaton and Papyrus have already started down the hallway towards the balcony again when she calls out to them.
"The rest of us are also going to sleep soon, if you two want to say goodnight. But don't let us interrupt anything."
"Toriel!" Mettaton hisses, his cheeks starting to glow again. She laughs as she makes her way downstairs, the two boys following close behind. Mettaton rolls his eyes and sighs, causing Papyrus to chuckle to himself.
They find Asgore, Alphys and Undyne in the living room, wishing each other sweet dreams. Asgore struggles to hold in a laugh as Mettaton and Papyrus walk in, and the former frowns as he glares at Toriel, who snickers. Undyne laughs so hard it's impossible to hear her, and Alphys is on the verge of tears.
"Yeah good night to you too, guys." Mettaton's tone only seems to humour the four more, as they just laugh harder, and he sighs as he turns on his heel, prepared to walk out of the room. However, Papyrus grabs his lower left arm and he spins on the spot, nearly tumbling to the hard, wooden flooring. He glares playfully at Papyrus, only sending more laughter through the group. Toriel is the first to regain control over herself.
"Try get some sleep tonight, boys." Undyne roars with laughter and Alphys starts shaking violently with every chuckle. Asgore leaves the room to let out his laugh, coming back in to try to get a word in. He fails, as Mettaton lets out a growl-like sigh and turns sharply, flipping everyone off over his shoulder, his cheeks burning bright. The group only laugh harder, and Papyrus quickly waves to them all, exasperated, as he races after Mettaton.
"Metta, come on-"
~~~~~~
Mettaton sighs again as he shakes his head, forcing his breath to slow as he watches some of the lights in the town dim and turn out. The sight still stuns him, and he lifts his eyes to the sky above. The solid near-black shade of blue greets him, and he lets a small smile grace his face.
He doesn't hear the door slide open and closed behind him, or the blinds on the door shutting - the stars seem too captivating to him.
He definitely feels the hand that gently holds his right hip, the arm that leans against the back of his waist and the soft, warm breath that caresses his neck through a parting in his hair. He shivers at the sensation, triggering a chuckle from behind him. Papyrus steps into his peripheral vision, and his smile tugs the corners of his lips further up. He lets a single breath out of his nose, a replacement laugh. The taller boy grins in response as he pulls Mettaton closer, turning his body and lifting his face to his own. Their lips just brush against each other, not quite touching, when Papyrus pulls back again. Mettaton opens his eyes, though they remain playfully narrow.
"No fair." He steps back, Papyrus releasing his hold on him, and crosses his arms, pouting in mock anger. Papyrus drops his brows into a sorrowful expression for a short while, his voice going up in pitch.
"Aw man, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it." His face soon becomes the little grin that Mettaton has gotten used to tonight, one eyebrow raised a fraction as he focuses on Mettaton's face. He chuckles in his throat, a low laugh that the black-haired boy had not expected could come from Papyrus' vocal chords.
"Do you not enjoy teasing, baby? Or is that meant to be your role here?" Mettaton's eyes widen and his pout drops in a split second. The taller boy's voice has changed - since when could Papyrus' voice go that low...?
And as much as he hates to admit it, Mettaton loves it way more than he probably should.
"Well?" Papyrus asks, slowly stepping closer again, his hands making their ways to Mettaton's hips once more, a hungry, lustful gleam in his eyes. "Are you going to answer me, baby?" Mettaton's brain short-circuits, his mouth hanging open slightly as he struggles to find the words he wants.
Papyrus keeps stepping forward though there is little to no space to close between them, and Mettaton's mind starts racing as he instinctively takes a step back for every one Papyrus makes forward. Before he knows it, he's pressed against the wall again, and a strange rush of adrenaline and excitement courses through his veins, his breathing speeding up sharply.
He's fallen right into the trap set for him.
Would it be wrong for prey to enjoy being hunted, to like the feeling of danger that comes with being cornered, to look forward to the fear and realisation upon seeing the predator that they've been caught?
Papyrus lets go of Mettaton's hips and hangs further away as Mettaton's back meets the wall, about two steps away, a doubtful look in his eyes, as if wondering if he's gone too far. In an attempt to battle that thought, Mettaton steps closer and grabs his hips, pulling himself into Papyrus' chest and attempting to push up to his tiptoes to lock their lips together again.
That look returns to Papyrus' light brown eyes, and he quickly closes the distance between Mettaton's body and the wall behind him, immediately pressing his lips to those of the shorter boy. Mettaton's mouth hangs open a bit as his back collides with the wall, a sigh escaping him before he can stop it. Again, Papyrus chuckles in that same low tone, a shiver running up Mettaton's spine while his legs turn to jelly at the knees. Thankfully, Papyrus' hands on his hips keep Mettaton standing.
"Left or right?" Papyrus seems to be asking both himself and Mettaton, but what he means goes over the shorter boy's head - their eyes are locked, so he can't just follow his gaze this time. The white-haired boy hums quietly before mumbling to himself. "Right is probably the smarter option." His eyes fall down slightly, though to where, Mettaton doesn't know, before lifting to his face again. "What do you think?"
Stumbling for an answer, Mettaton feels his hips getting pushed firmly against the wall, not quite hard enough to hurt but enough to notice the feeling. Another rush, smaller than before, ripples through him, his senses lighting up. Papyrus tilts his head to the side slightly.
Eventually, Mettaton finds an answer in the form of "W-what do you mean?" Papyrus smiles to himself before latching on to Mettaton's neck, brushing some of his hair out of the way. Immediately, Mettaton's breath catches in his throat, eventually escaping and coming in short bursts. Every inhale gasps for air.
Papyrus then pulls back, his nose pressing against the skin of Mettaton's neck. A low rumble of laughter vibrates across his skin before Papyrus whispers.
"Do you want to hide them? Or would you rather show them off, wear them with pride like an expensive necklace?" Mettaton shivers again, his body shaking from head to toe as his brain seems to stop working. He presses himself further against the wall, breathing heavily. Papyrus' breath dances across his neck, tickling his skin and causing his nerves to flare up. Tired of waiting for an answer, Papyrus bites down on Mettaton's neck again, continuing his assault on his skin. Mettaton's head falls back as much as it can against the brick behind him, his eyes slipping shut as he presses his lips firmly against each other. He stretches his neck, and Papyrus only attacks it more, sucking and biting. The shorter boy whines quietly, his knees shaking. Moving his head partially further around Mettaton's neck, Papyrus pulls him slightly away from the wall, wrapping his arms around his waist. He drags the raven-haired boy into his chest, digging into his skin still. Almost instinctively, Mettaton lets his leg wrap around Papyrus', holding him even closer.
After a minute or two, Papyrus' lips glide to the other side of Mettaton's neck, his hot breath burning on his bruising skin. He makes a few more marks on the left side of Mettaton's neck, kissing the spots softly before pressing his nose against the shorter boy's exposed cheek.
Wordlessly, Papyrus scoops him into his arms, Mettaton's long legs wrapping tightly around his waist. Papyrus crosses his arms under the raven-haired boy's thighs, holding him up. He presses Mettaton against the wall again for one last quick kiss before pulling back and opening the sliding glass door. Mettaton, panting heavily and whimpering quietly, presses his head into Papyrus' chest, his eyes squeezed shut.
Eyes darting left and right in the shadowy halls of the Dreemurr residence, Papyrus carries Mettaton to their corridor, hesitating between their rooms for a second before feeling Mettaton's hand curl tightly around his shirt, a wordless, desperate beg. Sighing almost silently and smiling to himself, he opens the door to the shorter boy's room and steps inside, kicking the door closed again behind him. After it clicks shut, he gently sets Mettaton down on his bed, laying on his back, and moves to straighten up before the black-haired boy grabs his arm and pulls him back down, their lips meeting again. Papyrus settles across Mettaton's hips, forcing his body down into the mattress, his hands planted firmly on the sheets next to Mettaton's neck, while the other boy's arms snake around his torso and try to pull him closer.
Papyrus pulls back, laughing quietly, a strange swirl of pride in his stomach as he looks down at the boy beneath him, who pants and blushes deeply. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his eyes softly closed, mouth hanging open slightly. Papyrus' right hand cups Mettaton's face, his thumb gliding smoothly over his cheek, as he leans down to kiss him again, his eyes sliding shut. His left hand glides across Mettaton's torso, curving around the side of his chest, slowly rising and falling, up and down his side. The raven-haired boy shivers and shudders, pleasure tearing through his veins like a racing car down a highway.
Breakneck speed.
Papyrus' hand stops on Mettaton's right hip, squeezing harshly. Desperately trying to keep his dignity intact for at least a little bit longer, the shorter boy bites his bottom lip, holding back the noise in his throat. Papyrus chuckles deeply, whispering into Mettaton's ear.
"Do you think you have any control here?"
Almost immediately, a single, quiet, breathy moan erupts from Mettaton's lips, which clamp shut a second after. Smiling to himself, Papyrus once again attaches his mouth to the black-haired boy's neck, kissing his skin softly and biting every now and then. Mettaton's breathing speeds up, his neck stretching and his eyes closing once more, taking his reward gratefully. His hands glide up and down Papyrus' back, his fingertips tracing his spine. In gentle but firm retaliation, the taller boy grabs his upper arms, forcing them down and snatching his wrists when he can. His hands pressing into the bed sheets and his neck being attacked send Mettaton's mind flying, a second, softer sound falling from his mouth. Grinning to himself, Papyrus presses his lips to Mettaton's for a few seconds, his hands not moving from the shorter boy's wrists. After pulling away from the kiss, Papyrus once more moves around to Mettaton's ear, nibbling on the lobe and growling in a tone the black-haired boy never expected could come from anyone, let alone his sweet, gentle Papyrus.
"Up."
His voice drips with lust and dominance, though a caring undertone slips in beneath it all.
Mettaton's not just another easy fuck, Papyrus really seems to have underlying feelings for him.
The thought just sends another strange ripple of pride, joy, hunger and lust through Mettaton's blood, his nerves spiking.
He lifts his body up, and Papyrus pulls him tightly into his own, his arms wrapping protectively around Mettaton's quivering form. Smirking at the effectiveness of his voice alone, Papyrus lifts Mettaton's face to his own again, their lips colliding harshly. One arm lowers and he brings Mettaton into his lap, the shorter boy still shaking in his grasp. He grips Papyrus' shirt, trying desperately to get closer even as his legs wrap around Papyrus' waist. Giving in to Mettaton's wordless pleas, Papyrus shifts and shuffles their bodies, running his hands up and down the raven-haired boy's arms. In response, Mettaton's fists curl around the hem of Papyrus' shirt, tugging it upwards across his stomach and towards his chest. Gently pushing Mettaton away from his chest, breaking the kiss, Papyrus lifts the shirt off, throwing it to the floor, Mettaton's hands springing to his back, his gloved fingertips clawing at his skin harmlessly.
Cautiously, worried of overstepping any boundaries he's never even gotten close to before, Papyrus slips the ends of his fingers beneath Mettaton's shirt, and the shaking boy quivers faster as the taller boy's hands move around to his spine. He leans in, pressing his chest against Papyrus' again, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing his nose into the crook of his neck. He mumbles incoherent phrases and sounds under his breath, the heat only fuelling the flames of desire and lust.
Testing the waters, Papyrus allows a single hand to glide higher up Mettaton's side, passing over his curves effortlessly, sliding over his skin. The shorter boy pants heavily before grasping the back of Papyrus' neck, bringing him in for another heated kiss, his fingers twisting and curling at the back of his head. When no objection comes, Papyrus lets his other hand follow the path set out before, lifting up over Mettaton's skin, his fingers lingering before they reach the lower half of his chest.
Wrapping one arm around Mettaton's waist, Papyrus breaks the kiss and holds his cheek in his other hand even as he lightly touches the second piece of material on the shorter boy's torso. Immediately, he blushes and turns his face away, shaking his head, almost ashamed.
But no words are needed.
His digits leaving the binder, Papyrus holds Mettaton's waist, running his thumbs in small, calming circles. Mettaton rests his forehead against the taller boy's shoulder, his eyes closing slowly even as Papyrus gently guides his hair back a fraction, softly kissing Mettaton's neck again. He raises his head, letting his chin rest on top of Papyrus' shoulder, his breathing speeding up once more. He gasps and pants for air as the white-haired boy slowly, carefully, lifts his shirt up, towards his head. Letting it happen, and embracing the feeling with wide open arms, he moves his body at Papyrus' whispered commands, not yet daring to resist.
Papyrus' hands then hold his hips again, rubbing those same rings into his skin, and Mettaton's body shudders violently, a burning cocktail of pride and joy rippling through him for whatever reason.
Who cares at this point?
One of his hands leaving Mettaton's hips, Papyrus turns the shorter boy's head to face him, gently brushing his lips against Mettaton's again. His eyes remain closed for few seconds after Papyrus pulls back, though they soon open wide and land on the lighter shade of brown in the taller boy's irises.
"I'm gonna ask you a question," Papyrus whispers, and Mettaton's brows drop slightly before the white-haired boy continues, "and I want you to answer me truthfully." A slight tinge of fear on his tongue, Mettaton nods slowly. Noticing his anxiety, Papyrus softly kisses his lips again, less heated than before but still just as passionate and loving.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
Mettaton doesn't answer straight away, instead forcing his lips to Papyrus' again, slowly pulling back before nodding, his eyes wide. A small, relieved smile rising on his face, Papyrus leans in, catching Mettaton, who immediately relaxes against him once more, in another kiss.
Papyrus' hands shift back down to Mettaton's hips, running those same circles in for a minute before squeezing suddenly and harshly. The shorter boy gasps into Papyrus' lips, his mouth opening slightly, remaining open for a few seconds before slowly closing. Grinning to himself without breaking the connection, Papyrus forces his mouth closer to Mettaton's, his front teeth just catching the shaking boy's bottom lip between them, tugging gently. Mettaton only whimpers in response, fighting to keep his lips shut. Once again, Papyrus pulls at Mettaton's lip, not hard enough to cause him pain or discomfort, but still rough - just to get his point across. Sure enough, it does, but Mettaton soon closes up again, a whine rising behind his teeth, a desperate attempt to keep his pride for a little bit longer.
Or at least, what remains of it.
Holding back a growl, Papyrus tries one last time, slightly harsher and more demanding, and finally Mettaton caves, a small noise echoing as Papyrus slips his tongue in between his lips. Gasping once, quietly, his head tilting back slightly, Mettaton quivers in Papyrus' grasp, a ripple of arousal shaking him from head to toe.
He brings himself closer, pushing Papyrus' torso further into his own with his leg, giving up all pride and dignity.
He wants Papyrus.
No, he needs him.
Before he can realise what he's doing, his hands fall to the waistband of Papyrus' jeans, his thumb just slipping beneath it. Seeming to agree with Mettaton's thought process, Papyrus leans back slightly, giving him free access. Finally, he sets the zipper free, and Papyrus immediately straddles Mettaton's thighs, briefly pausing to kick his jeans off. Leaning forward and down, Papyrus presses his lips against Mettaton's yet again, his right hand falling against his left hip, gripping it tightly, possessively. Such a simple act, yet it still drives Mettaton crazy, his eyes rolling back slightly and a gentle sound flying from his throat.
Another deep chuckle rumbles, and Papyrus' left hand glides across Mettaton's right thigh, squeezing softly, before once more, the shorter boy is captured in another kiss, one he couldn't escape even if he tried. He melts almost immediately, an overload of joy racing to his head.
He needs some form of outlet.
And that outlet is sitting right over him.
His own jeans are stuck in place, forced there by the great Papyrus, who still sits across his body, fingers dancing over the material, teasing the boy beneath him. Mettaton bites his lip, his mind searching desperately for some way to get Papyrus off, followed by his jeans, without getting in too much trouble.
But then again, what's wrong with getting into trouble?
Roughly kicking the taller boy off his legs, Mettaton starts pushing himself into a sitting position, though he doesn't get very far before Papyrus snatches his wrists and pins them against the pillow at the head of the bed, forcing Mettaton's body back down into the sheet. Mettaton's breath hitches, and Papyrus leans down again, growling into his ear.
"And just what do you think you're doing, baby?"
A deep, harsh shudder tears through the raven-haired boy's body, shaking him violently as his eyes close and another moan slips out from his between his lips. Papyrus doesn't move, staying right next to Mettaton's head and speaking again in that same dominant, possessive, low tone, biting on his earlobe.
"I believe I asked you a question, and that was not an answer."
When Mettaton simply gasps for air instead of answering the boy on top of him, Papyrus snarls and bites down hard on Mettaton's neck again, prompting another response that differs from the one that would typically be expected for the question asked. Refraining from possibly accidentally rewarding Mettaton for his silence as opposed to punishing him, albeit rather gently for the first one needed, Papyrus leans back a fraction, his front teeth catching Mettaton's earlobe again and nibbling gently but effectively, rendering Mettaton's voice useless. He stutters and stumbles for an answer, his thought process interrupted by deep, powerful waves of pleasure.
For obvious reasons.
"Answer me."
Papyrus' voice becomes gradually more and more possessive, vibrating against Mettaton's skin.
"I-I-I was-" Mettaton cuts himself off, unable to explain his misbehaviour, and not sure if he even wants to.
"You can't even say?" Mettaton holds back another moan, a quiet, shattered whine escaping instead, wavering and shaking. How much longer will he be able to take this before he explodes?
"Have you forgotten the rules, baby? Or do you need me to remind you who you belong to?"
A much louder moan rolls off Mettaton's tongue, his head pushing further back into the sheet as his back arches slightly. Papyrus chuckles darkly as his lips settle on Mettaton's neck once more, though his hands travel further down to his thighs. Adding to the bruises slowly forming on the skin of his neck, Papyrus bites and sucks harshly as he traces his forefinger up the inside of Mettaton's left thigh, a muffled whine and a vicious shiver reaching his senses. He leaves one final bite on each side of the black-haired boy's neck before pulling back and sliding his other hand up and down the outside of his right thigh, his fingertips brushing against Mettaton's rear before retreating.
Papyrus' voice becomes less dominant, less powerful and possessive to ask again if Mettaton is sure he's ready, and he gives the green light once more, his voice desperate, so the taller boy gently and slowly, trying his best to tease the other boy without being too obvious, undoes the clasp at the top of Mettaton's jeans, dragging the zip down soon after. Together, they throw them across the room, the faint sound of denim falling and crumpling barely registering in their heads before Papyrus traps Mettaton in yet another ploy to earn his complete submission and another desperate, hungry kiss.
Once again, Mettaton melts into the affection, his dignity in pieces, barely holding on to the tiny noises threatening to escape him at any second. His breathing uneven, his body still quivering, silently begging for Papyrus to free him from his current prison of nothing being quite enough, he lets his lips open at the taller boy's first pull. Maybe following the rules and making up for his previous actions will help his cause.
Pulling away for a few seconds, Papyrus leans closer to Mettaton's ear once again.
"Good boy."
Immediately, as if cued, a loud submissive moan flies from the raven-haired boy, his spine arching and his fingers clawing at the sheets as another harsh shiver of pleasure and lust tears through him, his eyes squeezing shut.
Grinning widely and taking in the sight before him for a few short seconds, Papyrus leans in and kisses the black-haired boy's lips again. So that's what he wants, is it?
Papyrus slips his hands under Mettaton's form, his left sliding around his waist as his right grips the back of his neck, lifting him up slightly and forcing his lips against Mettaton's once more. His brain melting, his judgement evaporated and his pride shattered into smithereens, Mettaton bucks his hips up, his body colliding with Papyrus', harsh waves of pleasure ripping them both apart. Papyrus' breathing speeds up as Mettaton holds back another noise, his mouth forced closed and his eyes squeezed shut. His chest rises and falls rapidly. His thoughts returning before the shorter boy's do, Papyrus slides his hands down Mettaton's sides, his fingers running over his skin as they make their way further down his body, quickly approaching his thighs. Only there do they slow, eventually coming to a stop, his fingers curling around Mettaton's legs and lifting them, pulling his body closer.
"Can I ride you?"
Papyrus stops, his brain clearing within milliseconds. He almost drops Mettaton's body entirely, his eyes widening slightly.
God, that is so much better an idea than anything he had in mind, to the point that he doesn't know how to react, giving the shorter boy an opening.
A small, but desperate, smirk on his lips, Mettaton flips the two over, kicking off both his own and Papyrus' underwear, shuffling further up his body and into position. However, before he gets the chance to do anything more, the taller boy's hands grip his waist, his thumbs lifting and falling against his curves, his eyes wide and evidently slightly worried about something or other.
"Metta, are you-"
"Yes Papyrus, please!"
Without another word, Mettaton sinks down, a loud moan escaping him as Papyrus gasps, his eyes rolling back slightly.
"Holy shit..."
His eyes focusing on the shorter boy again, Papyrus watches as he rises and falls, his body shaking viciously and another moan tearing from his lips, one hand lifted to try to cover the noises. Papyrus raises his own hand, pulling Mettaton's away from his face and pinning them to his sides. The black-haired boy keeps going, sending huge waves of pleasure rippling through them both at top speeds, Mettaton's moans becoming more and more passionate by the second. Papyrus holds his waist tightly, squeezing occasionally but mainly letting his boy do the work, lifting his hips slightly every now and then to add to the overload. Not too long later, however, Mettaton's pace slows, his eyes closing softly as he seems to approach his limit. Papyrus slides his hands down his hips, towards his rear, holding the undersides of his thighs. He keeps Mettaton raised until he backs a fair distance away from the edge, his eyes opening again, landing on Papyrus' deceptively calm face. He opens his mouth, most likely about to ask something, before Papyrus' hands return to his hips, rapidly dragging him back down, thrusting his hips further up.
Pressing his face into the sheet next to Papyrus' head, Mettaton lets out a long stream of moans and curses, a short, muffled scream escaping as Papyrus repeats the process, pulling him down and lifting his own hips much more each time.
Just as Mettaton starts to lift his head again, adjusting to the added pleasure, Papyrus' grip tightens on his hips, flipping them both over once more, quickly pushing deep into the raven-haired boy. His fingernails scratching at the skin of Papyrus' back, Mettaton moans particularly loudly, his neck stretching out and eyes rolling back as they drift shut. He breathes quickly and deeply, taking in as much of both the air and Papyrus as his body can.
Papyrus seems to try to chuckle again, though his rapid breathing and quiet moans interrupt. He whispers praise and compliments into the ear of boy beneath him, who shakes harder and moans louder with each sentence he catches. He then presses his lips to Mettaton's neck once more, sucking and biting ferociously, needing to mark the boy as his own.
He is for no one else.
Mettaton belongs to him.
Biting his lip as his eyes squeeze shut, Mettaton breathes out a warning to Papyrus. Narrowing his eyes slightly, the white-haired boy continues to force his way in and out, faster and more harshly, Mettaton's breath catching in this throat and his moans becoming louder and shakier, more submissive and passionate.
Mettaton's spine curves, his fingers clawing at the skin on Papyrus' back, his breathing even faster, an especially loud moan daring to rise before the taller boy presses their lips together, muffling the sound.
No one else deserves to hear or see Mettaton in this state.
He's Papyrus'.
No one else.
"Who do you belong to, baby?" He growls into Mettaton's ear again, waiting for him to admit it.
To hand himself over completely.
To admit defeat.
Mettaton only whimpers at first, the feeling too much, unable to deal with the sensory overload. He sharply bites back another moan, though why, he doesn't know anymore.
He's been ruined, his dignity and pride having completely vanished hours ago, when he first decided to kiss Papyrus for the new year celebration.
He is fucked.
In more ways than one.
And it could never have felt better.
When Papyrus snarls and repeats the question, more forcefully than before, accompanied by gentle but fierce bites on his earlobe, Mettaton moans loudly before trying to respond, his words catching in his throat.
"You." He finally manages to splutter out, and Papyrus rewards him with more hushed praise and another hickey, directly over his collarbone, softly kissing the skin after, driving the boy beneath him wild.
"Say my name, baby." He demands, once again hovering next to Mettaton's ear. His warm, thick breath caresses his skin, burning cruelly. When only a moan and a whine come in response, Papyrus bites harder on the black-haired boy's ear than before, not too far off from possibly drawing blood. Once more, he growls the command again, though he still gets no real response for a few seconds.
"Pap-" Mettaton moans again, his mind melting further to mush with each word, each thrust. Desperation and slight anger starting to burn in his stomach, Papyrus snarls harshly, barely holding on anymore, driving harder and faster into the boy beneath him.
"My fucking name!"
"Papyrus!" Mettaton screams as he reaches his limit, his spine arching off the sheets again, his fingers clawing at the duvet, curling around the fabric tightly. His breathing is rapid, his chest continuously moving and his eyes closed as he relaxes back down into the sheet. Papyrus lets go, his body starting to shake as he allows himself to fall onto Mettaton's aching form, both boys panting heavily. Within a minute, Papyrus slowly pulls out, kissing Mettaton's neck gently, staring at the bruises he's left behind there.
Almost the entire right side of his neck is stained, extending from directly below his jawline all the way down to an inch or two above his collarbone and where his shirt would usually sit. A few small, dark blue spots remain at the base of the centre of his neck, which could be hidden with clothes. On the left side, few can be seen, though one directly on his pulse spot and the one over his collarbone would most likely be more difficult to hide, with the former being quite awkwardly placed - he clearly wasn't thinking about the long term when he made that one - and the latter being the largest of the lot by far, spreading up onto the base and lower section of Mettaton's neck.
Pride swells in Papyrus' stomach and chest, his eyes roaming freely over Mettaton's temporarily ruined neck and exhausted body. A small smile, one of pure joy, overcomes his lips as his gaze lands back on the black-haired boy's face.
His gorgeous features are in bliss as he finishes working through his first orgasm, his mouth hanging open slightly as he gasps for air, his beautiful, dark brown eyes closed softly, his roasting cheeks burning bright red, and of course, those perfect bruises over his skin, marking him as Papyrus' property now.
His eyes eventually flutter open, his thick, black eyelashes flicking up and down, his gaze focusing on the ceiling before he starts to struggle into an upright position. Leaning forward, Papyrus reaches out to help him, and Mettaton collapses into the arms of the white-haired boy, who holds him tightly, protectively.
He shushes Mettaton soothingly, and the boy shivers slightly before his breath slows down further. Once his breathing returns to a more normal rate, Papyrus whispers to him calmingly, his voice back to his regular tone, though with a more prominent caring, loving side.
He runs his fingers through Mettaton's hair for a minute or two before gently letting go and standing up, checking the hallway before leaving the room and entering his own, coming back within two minutes in a clean pair of pyjamas, a few tissues and a hoodie in his hands. He helps Mettaton stand again and turns away respectfully as the boy drags his binder off and pulls on his own pyjamas, settling cautiously on the edge of his bed. An adoring, soft smile on his lips, Papyrus dabs the tissues across Mettaton's forehead, cheek and neck, before kissing his forehead gently. He drops the tissues into the bin and slips the hoodie over the shorter boy's frame, bringing him into a tight but short embrace, before pulling back Mettaton's duvet, running his fingers through his hair again for a few minutes, watching his eyes slowly drift shut, but before he can leave, his arm is pulled back.
Mettaton refuses to let go, his eyes wide and pleading silently. Sighing quietly in a loving manner, he slips into bed beside Mettaton, who cuddles up close to him, nuzzling Papyrus' neck with his nose. Laughing gently, Papyrus wraps his arms around Mettaton once more, and the two fall asleep together.
——————————————————————————
The next morning, Papyrus wakes first, his eyes landing immediately on the black-haired boy beside him. Smiling to himself, he kisses Mettaton on the forehead before the boy stirs, his eyes fluttering open, their gorgeous, dark brown irises wide, almost in a panic. Papyrus shushes him calmingly, and Mettaton visibly relaxes when he recognises his voice.
"Good morning." Mettaton snuggles closer to Papyrus, who holds his waist gently but securely in his arms, before returning the greeting. Mettaton softly kisses Papyrus' cheek, feeling him smile and press his nose against his own. Papyrus then forces himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes and stretching before standing. Mettaton follows suit and the two press their foreheads together for a few seconds before Papyrus starts to walk away. Before he can reach out to the doorknob, however, Mettaton calls for his attention. He looks over his shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised. Mettaton fidgets slightly, something quite evidently bothering him.
"Are we... you know..." he rubs his right arm with his left hand, visibly nervous. Papyrus opens his arms in an attempt to help him calm down, and Mettaton accepts the hug and takes a deep breath. "Are we... boyfriends now? Or..." he trails off, his nerves getting the best of him. He refuses to look up at Papyrus until he gently guides him to, his eyes clouded over with a thin layer of tears, already preparing for the worst, for it to have just been a one-time thing.
"If you want to be, then yes."
Mettaton's eyes widen and his jaw drops a fraction, a little smile gracing his lips as he nods. Papyrus smiles too, holding Mettaton close to his chest.
——————————————————————————
Twenty minutes later, when they're both ready for the day, including Mettaton trying to layer makeup over most of his neck in an attempt to hide the huge purple and blue splodge he's been left with, they head downstairs to the kitchen together, a faint blush creeping across the shorter boy's cheeks as flashes of last night's and that morning's events appear before his eyes.
Alphys, Undyne, Toriel and Asgore are already in the kitchen, and Mettaton almost goes back to his room immediately upon seeing the four of them, though Papyrus grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers, gently kissing his lips again, before the two walk in together. Only then do they let go of each other.
Undyne whistles when she catches sight of the two, and Alphys smacks her gently on the shoulder, causing her girlfriend to crack up laughing. Toriel and Asgore give their usual 'good morning' greetings, the former turning back to the eggs she's frying and the latter focusing on his newspaper crossword, sipping his tea. Mettaton and Papyrus take their seats at the table, opposite to Alphys and Undyne, exchanging morning greetings before Alphys suddenly cracks up laughing, her eyes going wide. The other three at the table shoot her confused looks, alarm crossing into those of Papyrus and Mettaton.
"Is that a hickey?!" She stares right at Mettaton, who stammers and blushes in pretend shock and confusion.
Shit shit shit shit shit shit-
Undyne's eyes soon follow, and she too gasps and starts laughing-
Just as Toriel walks over with the finished eggs and Asgore puts down his crossword.
Mettaton moves to hide one of the marks that Alphys and Undyne must have seen, covering the top of his neck with his left hand in a mock tired pose, mumbling an attempt to play it off, though anxiety claws at his gut. However, as Toriel sits down and follows Alphys' and Undyne's eyes, she seems to somehow catch sight of another on his right side.
Surely I can't have missed some-
"I thought I told you two to get some sleep?" Laughter erupts around the table, fire burning on Mettaton's cheeks. He covers his blush with his left hand, completely forgetting where it was and why.
He remembers all too late.
"Wait a second-" Asgore starts to talk before Asriel, Chara and Frisk all walk in together, shouting their good morning greetings, and the topic is dropped.
For now.
After breakfast, however, Alphys pulls Mettaton aside.
"Soooooo... any news?" Mettaton sighs loudly, though he is honestly less annoyed than he pretends to be. She nudges his side gently, and he lets a small laugh out before rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
"Yeah... we're together now."
"Well yeah, duh, you didn't exactly hide it perfectly. I mean there are others under your hair too-"
"What?! How?!" His eyes immediately start shooting around for a mirror or a window or anything to possibly catch his reflection in, until Alphys pulls her phone from her pocket, flipping to the camera.
Sure enough, under his hair, the other bruises aren't hidden at all.
"What the fuck, how?!" Alphys bursts out into laughter, nearly dropping her phone as she doubles over.
"Besides, that's not your cologne."
"...what? What cologne?"
"That's Papyrus'. I guess it must have rubbed off on you at some point this morning."
"Well... maybe it is my cologne, how would you know?"
"Undyne and I were the ones who got it for him. Trust me. We know."
With that, she pats him on his shoulder and leaves, her laughter echoing quietly through the halls.
"Oh, for fuck's-"
You probably shouldn't have sex in a binder kids-