Would That Make You Happy?

Frisk is your child, the result of a teen pregnancy, but they've always been told that you're their older sister. In an effort to get away from your own abusive mother, the two of you end up falling into the Underground, where Sans is startled by this abrupt change in what had become a predictable pattern of events. Maybe your presence is what is needed to stop the endless cycle of Resets.

After many struggles, both internal and external, you and your found family reach the surface, only to face even more difficulties from the society you weren't sure you'd ever see again. You meet new friends and encounter people from your past, though for good or ill, you're not sure. Sometimes it's difficult to tell kindness from cunning.

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28. I'm Yours

"i can't believe you keep sending me those texts while i'm at work, what if the kid sees them?" Sans's voice cants low as he flings your shirt onto the floor of his bedroom, one hand around your back to fumble with the clasp of your bra. He's pressed in close to you, teeth grazing the crook of your neck.

You untangle one arm from around his shoulders to help him. He nips your neck and you suck in a gasp. "I delete them from my history. I can't believe you just teleported home like that." One moment you sent him an admittedly teasing message (your period ended yesterday, and you knew he'd been getting impatient) and the next Sans was there in the living room behind you. You'd never seen him look so riled up.

"what did you think i was gonna do? you were driving me crazy," he growls, pulling your arms free from him so he can tug off your bra.

"You've never done this before," you say, grabbing for his jacket to try and help him undress. He pushes your hands away and shrugs out of it himself. Your fingers find the front of his shirt instead, tracing down his sternum and making him give a pleased hum. You smile at him and he hooks his fingers into the waist of your jeans.

"yeah, well there's no one to bust me for skipping out this time," he says, stepping out of his slippers and gently pushing you towards the bed. "lay down."

You eye his still very-clothed body but he ignores you, so you do as he asks. Once your back is against the mattress, he undoes your pants and pulls them off, climbing onto the bed after you. His warm, smooth hands slide up your thighs, making you sigh and arch your back just a little as you savor the feeling. Sans shifts higher, fingers dragging up your sides. You shudder, seeing the hungry look on his face as he watches you shift under him and let out a small whine.

There's a flicker of blue and then his tongue is circling your nipple, his head bent over you as a hand grabs your hip. "Sans," you moan, reaching for the hem of his shirt and slipping your hand under it. As your fingers trace the warm surface of his ribs, he shudders and groans against your breast. He takes hold of your hand and threads his fingers between yours, pinning it to the mattress beside your head. Somewhere in the back of your lust-fuzzy mind you wonder why he stopped you. But it's hard to care as you press open-mouthed kisses to the side of his skull while his free hand finds its way beneath your underwear.

Grazing over your clit and sliding past your folds, Sans teases at your entrance. You moan, pressing against his hand but he just keeps tracing lazy circles. He pulls his head away just enough to look at you, the blue of his left eye studying your face as he gives you a pleased grin.

"i love listening to those sounds you make. i love knowing i can make you feel good," he says.

You bite your lip because you're too flustered to speak, but you know that Sans doesn't expect you to say anything. Instead, he makes a shallow thrust into you with his fingers, eliciting a cry as one hand tightens on his and the other fists into the sheet. You whine as he pulls out with a satisfied hum. He tugs your underwear off as he moves away.

Sans leans back and shifts to settle himself between your legs, squeezing your thighs with his fingers. You watch him, eyes locked on his, as he nips gently down from your knee, anticipation making you want to squirm the lower he goes. He pauses right at the thickest part of your thigh, chuckling as you let out a frustrated noise.

You get the impression that this is revenge of some kind.

Then, finally, you suck in a gasp that bottoms out into a moan as his tongue drags its way up your folds until finding your clit. He's warm, warmer than a human if you remember correctly, but at the moment that doesn't matter. Nothing matters except the feel of that blue tongue and Sans's strong hands kneading your thighs. It's like he can't get enough of the softest parts of you, he always touches you whenever he can.

As he finds a steady rhythm of gentle strokes, he leans his skull against one thigh making a low hum you can feel more than hear. It makes you shiver and bite your lip. Keeping hold of the leg he's resting against, he brings his other hand under his chin. Just knowing what's coming makes you shift closer in anticipation, and you hear Sans give a low chuckle.

"were you feeling as bonely for me as i was for you?" he teases, finger tracing along your entrance again. You let out a small groan that's more of a whine. "okay, babe. i know what you want."

Everything seems to narrow down to the smooth warmth of his fingers sliding inside of you, dragging out a moan past your lips. His other hand squeezes your thigh as he nuzzles against it, and you get the feeling that he's pleased with himself. Honestly, you're pretty pleased with him too.

As his fingers thrust slowly in and out of you, curling at just the right angle, you feel heat start to pool in your belly. You're getting close, and you think Sans can tell. The strokes of his tongue become more focused and he lets out a soft groan against you that makes you shudder.

Sans flattens his tongue, dragging it across your clit as he strokes his fingers inside of you and the heat finally crests and breaks free. Moaning and crying out, your back arches off the mattress and your fingers clutch at the sheet. Sans holds you and eases you through the waves of pleasure, his motions gentling but not stopping, eking out as much as he can from you. When your body finally starts to relax, he pulls himself from you and leans back to rest on his knees, using the hem of his shirt to dry his face. He's grinning, and all you can do is give him a bleary smile in return as you stretch your legs with a contented groan.

"that sounded good," he says, trailing his hands up and down your thighs, watching you as you come back to reality. He gives a low chuckle as you hum contentedly. "i'm glad. but you know we're not done yet."

As he shifts a little between your legs, you press your wobbly knees together. "Wait," you say as he gives you a puzzled look. You pat the bed beside you. "Can you just lay with me a minute?" you ask, your voice soft.

"is everything okay? i thought you liked when i don't wait too long after you come," he says, moving to lay next to you. Sans rests on his side, blinking his sockets so that the blue is gone and the white pinpricks are back. He covers your stomach with his hand, rubbing next to your navel with his thumb.

You move his hand away, and with as much energy as you can muster in your pleasure-limp state you roll yourself over to sit on top of him. Sans's eyes widen, startled as you look down at him from your seat on his legs. "I'm fine," you tell him, leaning forward and pressing your hands into the mattress on either side of his head. Blue sweeps across his cheekbones, and you see traces of nervous sweat gather at his temple. "But you're always doing all the work, and I want to do something for you for a change."

"babe, you don't have to. really," he says, shivering as your hand trails down his chest. 

"I know I don't have to. I want to," you tell him, a small groan escaping him as your fingers duck past the hem of his shirt and trace the curve of his pelvis.

"you don't have to do this, i'm sure you're uncomfortable." Sans reaches down to cup your legs, glancing down between you as best he can.

You're not sure if he's talking about you being on top of him, or uncomfortable with being more in control. Either way... "I'm not. Unless you are?" You pull your hand away from his pelvis, suddenly concerned you overstepped a boundary you weren't aware of.

"n-no, i'm not, but... babe i'm all hard edges and you're... soft." He holds your gaze for a moment before falling away, the lights in his eyes dimming slightly. Turning his head, he runs a hand over his face, looking uncertain.

Oh. Oh. "Hun," you murmur, ducking your head to press a trail of kisses down the side of his face. "Sans," you say, your lips against his jaw. He turns his head a little, leaning into your touch. "Is that what this is about? Because I like you, just the way you are." You reach up to tug his hand away from his face, tangling his fingers with yours and pressing them against the bed. "I want to learn your body the way you learned mine."

Sans turns to look at you and you pull back so he can, searching each other's faces. He still looks unsure, but you hope that he can see the sincerity and affection you feel. His face scrunches up as best it can, a tiny furrow forming between his brows, and the blue on his cheeks darkens. It seems like he doesn't know what to say.

"Please," you say, squeezing his hand. "I care about you, just like you care about me. Help me show you."

His mouth opens, like he's about to say something, but he can't find the words. With an expression akin to pain, the lights in his eyes flicker as he studies your face, until finally you're startled to see tears gathering in the corners of his eye sockets. "i..." Sans blinks, shaking his head and giving a self-deprecating laugh. "shit, you..." He blinks again, looking away and back at you. "you keep surprising me. you'd think i'd be used to it by now."

"Are you okay?" you ask, shifting yourself so that you can stroke the side of his head with your free hand.

"i'm... i love... i love everything about this right now, babe. you just, make me so happy." Sans fumbles over his words for a moment, still flushing and flustered. He leans up to nuzzle against your cheek, and you smile.

"You make it sound like no one's ever done this for you before," you say, giving a weak laugh in an attempt at lightheartedness.

Sans doesn't answer. His grip on your hand tightens and you hear a small sigh.

Things start to make more sense. Why would he assume that you'd be uncomfortable, if someone hadn't already told him something similar? Feeling determined now, you slide towards his pelvis, straddling him and rocking your hips. Encouraged by his startled groan, you pull back to sit upright, looking down at him. "Tell me what to do," you tell him, fingers tugging his shirt up to expose the bottom of his ribcage. You're tempted to reach for his spine, but you decide to start with the bottom ribs instead. Sans trembles under you. "Please."

The lights in his eyes are bright, and he's having trouble holding your gaze. His hands shift a little on the bed, like he goes to reach for you and then stops. Then, in a hurried rush, he arches his back and pulls his shirt off over his head, leaving himself exposed to you for what you realize is the first time. Everything about his bones has always been different from human anatomy, and his ribcage is no exception. He has more substance to him, a solidity you don't get from a lifeless skeleton. You catch yourself staring, and Sans is watching you with uncertainty.

The significance of this moment isn't lost on you. His trust in you feels like a tangible thing, cupped between your hands in the same way that he regarded your Soul weeks ago. You feel something well up inside your chest, and you think... you think it might be love.

Your fingers trace over his ribs and you try to put every bit of what you're feeling into the smile that you give him. It might be love, it might not be, yet, but whatever it is you hope it's enough to let him know that you want him to be happy. That you're happy with every bit of himself he might offer to you.

You think he must see what you're trying to show him. You delight in the relieved sigh he tries to hold back, leaning down to press kisses along his clavicle. His hand cups the side of your head, burying itself in the thick waves of your hair. Your slide your tongue along the length of bone, eliciting a small groan that makes you smile.

Sitting up again, you shake your hair free of his fingers, sliding your hands down his chest. You grind against his pelvis, feeling the fabric of his shorts shift against your thighs. "Tell me what to do," you say again, because he still hasn't answered you.

His mouth opens and closes, a small ragged noise escaping him. His eyes are heavy, his face bluer than you've ever seen him. In a word, he looks overwhelmed. His hands reach for you, and then hesitate, and then he finally takes hold of your wrists. You watch as he guides one hand to the base of his spine and the other to the wing of his pelvis.

Sans releases you as you stroke along his vertebrae, his hands falling back to his sides. You gently drag your fingernails across his hipbone and he gasps, closing his eyes and arching into your touch. He covers his face, unable to keep his arms still. Raising up onto your knees, you take a moment to tug down his shorts a bit to give you easier access to his pelvis. While you're off of him, he reaches down to grab hold of your hips, making you stop. Confused, you look up at his face, and as you catch sight of his glowing left eye, you feel a familiar pressure against your leg.

You shift yourself above him covering the hands on your hips with your own as you slowly lower yourself onto him. He moans as he fills you, his grip on you tightening as you gasp. Smooth fingers drag down your thighs as you  rock against him. His eyes are closed again, head pressed back against the mattress, teeth parted. You reach down for his spine again and he cries out, arching up to you. His motion buries his cock deeper inside of you and makes you moan, a surge of pleasure making you feel off-balance. You scrabble for a grip on his ribs but he catches your hand, holding you steady. Looking down at him, he's peering up at you with so much desire and affection that your chest aches in response.

Sans reaches for your other hand, a ragged breath escaping him as your fingers drag away from his spine. Tangling your fingers together, he takes your weight onto his arms. His hands squeeze yours. "if you... keep doing that, it'll be over too quick," he says, his voice thick and low as he stumbles over the words.

"Okay," you breathe, using the stability of his arms to help you drag yourself upwards and press back down again.

"aah, shit," he bites out, caught off-guard. He grinds up against you and you lean over him, trusting him to keep you up as your hair spills over your shoulders.

There's tension coiling in your belly again but you're not focused on that. You're taking him in, watching the affect you're having on him with a swell of affection and pride. This is about him. Right now he's all that matters.

"Sans," you say, groaning as you rock your hips. "I..."

"i... wait, i can't..." Sans bites back a moan, gritting his teeth. "no, not..."

You realize what's happening a moment too late, a low cry breaking free from him as you lean back to press him deep into you. He arches up and goes rigid, eyes squeezing shut as he trembles beneath you. The light in his eye fizzles out as he goes limp against the bed, the pressure inside of you gone without warning.

"shit," he breathes, taking in a shuddering breath. For a moment you're worried he's disappointed, but he's smiling up at you as he carefully separates your hands. He reaches up for your face and pulls you down to him, nuzzling you as he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. You press kisses to his face when you feel bone against your lips. "you... i..." he falters and you can feel him trembling still. "that was..."

"You always say the sweetest things," you murmur, laughing softly. You roll off to the side and he turns to follow you, unwilling to let you go. 

"i've never... babe, sometimes i think there's no way you can be real," he says, his forehead pressed against yours. You reach up to brush your fingers along the side of his face.

"I'm real. I'm here, I'm real, and I'm yours," you tell him. "For as long as you'll have me."

"and what if i never want to let you go?"

"As long as you'll have me," you repeat, kissing between his eye sockets for emphasis.

"i..." Sans leans back so he can look you in the eyes, bright white points flickering as he searches your face.  "i'll keep that in mind."

 
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