Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sans woke up with a soft groan. He was in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. There was a warm body curled around him. Before he fully woke he sighed, enjoying the peaceful moment, the perfectly warm embrace. With his sockets closed he ran the palm of his hand down the surprisingly warm arm tucked snugly under his ribs from behind. He reasoned it must be one of the many mammalian monsters in SnowdIn considering the body heat, but didn't fully register there was no fur beneath his hand. He blinked, rolling over to see who he'd spent the night with, not entirely sure if he wanted to know them or not.

His sockets went wide, the dim red pupils within flickered out.

Oh, fuck.

He was staring directly at the unmistakable sleeping face of one of his closest friends. And the owner of the bar in SnowdIn.

He'd slept with Grillby?! How fucking drunk was he last night?! 

How drunk was Grillby?!

Was it a hate fuck? He'd never tried to sleep with Grillby before, but it wasn't like he would pass up the opportunity if he had it. Had Sans just been a total ass last night and Grillby had enough? Maybe he was into that? Certainly wouldn't be the first in Sans' life. Especially lately… If it wasn't a groupie it was someone who he couldn't stand.

But Grillby? Shit. He thought the bar-owner had some standards.

Well, maybe he could just slip out before Grillby woke up? Yeah. Then they wouldn't have to worry about the walk of shame. They could deal with awkwardness later, much later. Sans rolled toward the edge of the bed, stretching his foot toward the floor. He grimaced when he had to carefully peel Grillby's oh-so-warm hand from his chest, already missing the touch before it was completely gone. His toes brushed the carpet and he threw the blanket back.

Something tugged tight around Sans' throat, jerking him back to the bed before he even left it.

"Mm?" Grillby curiously hummed as Sans gave a choked groan. "Oh, good morning." Grillby happily sighed.

"M-morning?" Sans replied, reaching up to his neck. "Uh, heh, wh-what's on my neck, Grillbs?"

Grillby sat up to lean over Sans with a smile, he lifted his free hand to show a heavy chain leash that led to his own wrist from Sans' neck where it was welded to a steel cuff. He lightly shook the chain. "Uh, we lost the key."

"What?!" Sans laughed, curiously fiddling with the chain before tracing his fingers along the surprisingly thick steel collar hanging from his throat.

"Yeah," Grillby nodded with his eyes shut. "Um, you thought it would be funny to lock us together."

"Ugh. Yeah, sounds like something I'd do." Sans agreed. "Why didn't you just melt the chain? Or your cuff?"

"I can't melt steel, Sans."

"What? No way."

"No one can burn hot enough to melt steel." Grillby replied with a flat tone.

"I'll just shortcut us to the lava pits then." Sans offered with a casual shrug.

"Yeah, no. Not happening." The elemental said with a soft shake of his head.

"What? Why not?"

"Don't you wanna… make up for what we couldn't do last night?" Grillby asked in a smoky tone, walking his fingers up Sans' thigh before pulling away at his hip.

"I–uh, wh-what?"

"Y'know," Grillby gestured vaguely with a slight grimace and looked away briefly. "you were tired and drunk and couldn't get it up."

"I what?!"

"It's no big deal, it happens." Grillby shrugged with a teasing smile.

"No, no, nooo …" Sans hid his face in his hands. He finally got Grillby into bed and he couldn't get hard?! He wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"Doesn't seem like you're having that problem this morning," Grillby added with a smirk. 

"Wh-? Oh! Nn!" Sans jolted at the warmth that traced over his bare crotch. He definitely wasn't having that problem anymore. Nope. No siree. "Oh, sh-shit, why the fuck do you w-wanna sleep with me? Th-thought you had hh-higher stand-ah-stanDARDS?!" Grillby kissed Sans' throat above the heavy metal collar, chuckling as the skeleton clutched at him when he gave a teasing lick at his pulse.

"You wanna ask dumb questions," Grillby sighed, trailing his uncuffed hand down Sans' chest. "or do you want me to ride your cock?"

"Mm! The second thing!" Sans blurted with wide sockets, nodding.

"Then shut up, before I change my mind." Grillby purred with a quick wink as he shifted to straddle his lap.

*

"Mm," Sans sighed comfortably as Grillby smoked beside him in bed. They stared up at the ceiling together, Grillby sighed smoke as he passed the cigarette to Sans who took it with a smirk.

"We should make a habit of this I think," Grillby quietly told him, glancing sideways at the skeleton.

"Yeah?" Sans asked, shifting in bed to look at the other man.

"Yeah," Grillby replied, a soft smile pulled crookedly at his lips.

Sans blinked at him a few times, confusion wrinkling his sockets as he half-turned his skull to exhale smoke away from them. After a moment he lightly scoffed, taking another long drag as he looked back up at the ceiling. "Nearly had me goin' for a second there, Grilbs…"

"Sans, I'm serious."

Sans choked on smoke, sitting up as he coughed. He caught his breath and turned back to look at the bar-owner who was now sitting up, weight braced on his hands near the pillows.

"Uh, wh-what the fuck?" Sans barely managed through several harsh coughs.

Grillby's white eyes narrowed slightly, his expression still neutral. "I mean, this was fun, right?" He asked, posture loosening even as his eyes glanced down at the collar still locked around Sans' throat.

"Well, yeah, I-I mean, fuck yeah… " Sans answered, pulling a pleased, easy smile from the other man. "But, like… A-as a fuck-buddy kind of thing, or…?"

Grillby shrugged with a soft frown. He sighed, looking away for a few seconds. 

Sans felt his stomach flip. Was… Grillby suggesting they become an item? "Like, y-you wanna go steady?"

A smile flickered at the edge of Grillby's mouth before it faded and he looked further away from the skeleton. "Maybe," After another quiet moment passed, his white eyes glanced back at Sans, gauging his reaction. His fists clenched quietly around the sheet beneath him, turning back to fully face Sans as the other man silently stared at the floor with his back to him.

"I uh," Sans rubbed the back of his neck before sighing, fingers trailing down the collar as his hand dropped. "I d-don't know about that."

"Why not?" Grillby lightly asked, sitting up and slipping his free hand to the nightstand at his left without looking away from Sans.

"I uh, I don't… I don't have a good track-record with… relationships."

"Me either, honestly." Grillby replied with another shrug, though Sans couldn't see it. He also couldn't see the key that he silently pulled from the back of his nightstand where he'd gently taped it the night before. He glanced at his minimalist, sturdy, solid steel barred headboard then back to Sans.

Sans lightly chuckled, setting the spent cigarette in the ashtray on the opposite nightstand. "And uh, much as I wanted to roll with you in the sheets, heh, I…" he turned to look at Grillby again, the other man smiled patiently at him, his free hand resting lightly on his cuffed wrist. Sans gave him an uncharacteristically soft smile that made Grillby's soul flutter wildly in his chest.

"I…" Sans sighed again, looking away, his smile fading.

Grillby tensed, his hand rubbing idly at the cuff. "Yes?" He prompted.

Sans closed his sockets, his shoulders slowly slumping. "I don't want anything serious right now, I definitely don't wanna hu-"

The loud "clack" of steel on steel interrupted him, he looked up and saw Grillby staring directly at him as he released the cuff, now locked shut around the middle bar of the headboard. It slid with a clatter down the bar to rest on top of the bed between the pillows.

Sans noticed several things at once, the key in Grillby’s hand, the blank expression on the elemental's face, and the terrible calm that rippled off the other man. "Uh… wh-what cha doin' there Grilbs?" he asked uncertainly.

"I… I thought you'd agree with me. Especially after finally spending the night." he quietly, but confidently replied, his hands sliding to his lap. "And making you scream my name…" he added with a hint of a reverent smile and a gentle narrowing of his eyes.

Sans laughed quietly, looking between the headboard he was now chained to and the unsettlingly serious man. "Okay, you found the key. C'mon," he tilted his skull back slightly, nervously licking his teeth with a quick smile. "get me outta this thing."

Grillby stared silently back at him without moving and Sans swallowed with a slow growing anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Without moving, Sans tried to teleport away from the situation, something he'd willingly avoided doing because he'd been having fun up until that moment. His blood ran ice-cold when he didn't immediately show up in his own house.

He tried four more times in quick succession before Grillby finally spoke.

"That's a magic-blocking collar," he calmly told him, knowing what the skeleton had been attempting to do.

Sans reached up and blindly felt around the solid collar, tracing the unfamiliar shapes etched into it. "Th-these are illegal, they don't ma-"

"I made it." Grillby answered, interrupting him.

Sans' pupils vanished in his sockets, his mouth dry as he unconsciously gave a testing tug on the collar.

"It's not strong enough to kill you, don't worry. But without access to the majority of your magic, you're not strong enough to break it. Not even close."

Sans lunged for the key in Grillby's hand, even without his pupils to give him away, the other man still moved faster, throwing the key across the room.

"The fuck is wrong with you?!" Sans shouted before rushing toward the corner where the key had been tossed. He made it just off the edge of the bed before the chain pulled tight and he was jerked back, falling to the floor with his back against the foot-board. He grimaced with a groan of pain at the sudden, sharp pressure across his throat. He stretched his arm out, rising to his knees, right hand on the collar to give him space to breathe, and the left reaching for the key on the floor. Red magic sparked around his fingers as he tried to urge the key into his hand, but nothing else happened.

"I just want more time to convince you," Grillby finally answered.

Sans glared back at him, sharp teeth bared in fury. His chest heaved as he growled back, "Let me go. Let me out of this thing and I won't fucking dust you the first chance I get."

"I'm going to give you some time to calm down, I know this isn't what you expected." Grillby calmly stated as he slid from the bed. That careful, confident, almost elegant way he moved that had been so damn alluring to Sans before was now infuriating to watch. It felt smug and arrogant now, as Grillby had Sans trapped exactly where he wanted him. He didn't try to grab Grillby as he walked by, but he did snarl and viciously slap his hand away as his fingers trailed over his arm as he passed.

Grillby gave him an indulgent smile before retrieving the key from the floor and walking to the bedroom door, completely out of Sans' reach the entire time.

"I'll be back in a few hours to check on you. I hope that's all the time it takes, my love."

Sans just glared at him, too outraged to dignify his words with a coherent response. With his impressively rising ceiling for fury, Sans saw red when he heard the unmistakable sound of a lock latching from the other side of the door.

Shaking in anger, he stood and searched the pockets of his discarded pants and coat on the floor. Growling in frustration he found nothing. Not his phone, not his keys or wallet, and certainly not his dignity. Also weirdly, not his shirt either.

He jerked his clothes back on in a blurred rage, half screaming when he couldn't find his fucking shoes!

He was breathing so hard his skull was swimming and he forced himself to take several slow, deep breaths. Feeling only a flicker of calm, he searched the room. It had seemed totally normal when he woke up, normal enough that he hadn't seen the need to inspect it. Now though, he was seeing things that were probably red flags that he missed because he'd been so distracted by the fact that he woke up in Grillby's bed and then had–-what he thought at the time anyway--the privilege to actually fuck him.

Fuck! Why hadn't he just said he'd consider a steady relationship with him?! The idea wasn't that bad! Certainly not as bad as this! If Grillby had waited two goddamn seconds he would have heard Sans finish his fucking sentence! That he didn't want to hurt Grillby by trying to date him! He wasn't fucking blind! Or so oblivious that he didn't know the bar-owner hadn't even had a one-night-stand in fucking years!

No good deed goes unpunished…

Though he was too blind and oblivious to the fact that apparently he'd been the direct target of some seriously fucked-up attraction!

God!

"Fuck!" Sans screamed into his hands.

He ripped his hands from his face and returned to scanning the room. He spotted what he knew were security cameras, his friendship with Alphys and his own shitty experiences told him that much. They were small, near-perfectly camouflaged save for the slight shine of the lens. 

He counted one, facing the bed from the wall across the foot-board, tucked under the shelf near the ceiling that held several classic books and a few wooden carvings. Two, also facing the bed but from the wall beside the door in the corner also near the ceiling, meaning it had a good view of both the door and the bed. Three, above the door frame of the bathroom. And four, angled down toward the bed from above the headboard.

Finally he inspected the chain, cuff, collar, and bar he was attached to.

He tugged at the collar first, fingers running around the entirety of it several times searching for a weak point. There were two thick, but small, padlocks on it. One connecting it to the chain, and the other on the direct opposite side locking the collar shut. So just breaking free of the chain wouldn't mean he was free to teleport away, he'd have to figure out how to break the padlock at the back which would be harder without the leverage of the chain. He found the edges of the clasp at the back that locked the collar had been smoothed to a soft curve. The same went for the edges of the rest of it.

He scoffed, unsure and uncaring if it was for his comfort or his safety.

Next he trailed down the length of the chain leash after giving it a hard pull on the lock to test the strength, meticulously tracing over every single link until he reached the cuff, crawling onto the bed on his knees as he did so. The cuff was securely locked around the steel bar, though it hung loose around it. He gave a hard tug and earned nothing but a sharp ring of metal on metal. Realizing his legs would fit through the gaps in the headboard, he braced his feet on the wall and pulled with all his weight against the cuff. He pulled until his arms began to shake and he was forced to give up, falling to his ass on the bed and breathing hard.

"Shit," he whispered, backtracking off the bed to kneel on the floor. He scowled as he noticed the bed-frame was bolted to the floor. And the headboard was bolted to the wall, which explained the total lack of movement when he'd tried yanking on the chain moments earlier. Growling again, he jerked on the solid leg of the bed-frame, over and over until he pulled a muscle in his shoulder. Shoving back to his ass, he kicked the bed-frame in anger before cussing furiously at the pain that radiated through his foot all the way to his hip.

The nightstands were also bolted to the floor, because why the fuck not?!

Sans rose to his feet and stepped backwards from the bed until the chain pulled tight. He shuffled sideways toward the door and then all the way around toward the bathroom, seeing how much room he had to move. No matter where he stood he wasn't close enough to reach a door handle. (He could reach the edge of the door into the hall with his foot though, for what good it did him.) He was barely close enough to turn off the light. His only option was the bed or the floor. Or a nightstand he supposed if the bed pissed him off too much.

The fact that he could make even a weak joke about anything at that point proved he had calmed down enough to think clearly. He took a deep breath and sighed, glancing around the room once more, searching for any details he might have missed. He curiously walked to the light switch and noticed an alarm on the top of the door frame, the kind that made a noise or set off a silent signal that the door had been opened. He scoffed, shaking his skull and rolling his pupils in quiet disbelief.

He stretched for the light switch, his fingertips barely able to reach it as he turned off the lights. He flipped off the camera under the shelf, just knowing it had night vision, and fell face first into a pillow on the bed. He groaned into it in frustration until his lungs were empty before he turned his skull away from the door and caught a quick breath before sighing again. Deciding to get vaguely comfortable, he sullenly adjusted his skull and the goddamn collar until he could barely feel it.

What the fuck was he going to do now? On the surface it seemed like Grillby had thought of every single detail, or at the very least had been tweaking every detail until he reached this point. This room was made specifically to hold someone hostage. The chain leash was nearly the perfect length, he suspected he was supposed to be able to comfortably reach the light switch on his own and Grillby had simply miscalculated his height and reach by an inch or two. He was short for a monster after all. Though it was obvious Grillby hadn't used his own reach to measure the chain since he was around eight inches, at least, taller than Sans. Not as tall as some monsters, but taller than most.

There were multiple cameras trained on the small space Sans was confined to. The bed-frame was thick, solid, and unmovable by his magic-restrained state. He probably wasn't strong enough physically even with magic to move anything or break the collar or chain, but with his magic he didn't need to be. He had a lot at his disposal, more than most monsters. Telekinesis, electrokinesis, bones stronger than steel he could summon to leverage against anything, fucking teleportation, massive laser cannons he could summon on command…

How long had this taken Grillby? How much research and gold had he poured into this little endeavor of his?

How long had he been waiting, watching Sans until the moment was right for him to make this move?

That final question sent an icy shiver down his spine. How long had the man he assumed was his friend, a close friend at that, been planning this? What had he done to spark such an obsession? How had he played normal for so long and so perfectly that it never even crossed Sans' mind to check his soul with his karmic vision? Not since their initial meeting anyway, where he saw his main soul trait was integrity and he was an older, but still strong monster with a LV that rivaled some of the strongest monsters he'd met. That he took no bull-shit from anyone, and even then, that he was slow to anger and patient and kinder than the Underground deserved.

But Sans? He wasn't anything special. Sure he played music and sang with a few monsters in SnowdIn, they had a few groupies that showed up religiously to watch them perform. But that couldn't possibly make up for the fact that he was a lazy, sarcastic, sullen asshole and barely functioning alcoholic who'd dropped out of college, abandoned a promising career at The Lab in HotLand working for the King, and only had an income and a roof over his head thanks to his brother.

His brother…

Papyrus!

A flicker of hope ignited in his soul. Papyrus would notice him missing and start searching for him! Especially without his phone! 

His little brother was a lot of things, pissy, cold, stern, and a hard-ass, but they knew each other better than anyone else. And Papyrus cared about him more than anything, even more than his own job, no matter how hard he denied it out loud.

*

Sans' sockets slid open when there was a knock at the door behind him. Surprisingly, he hadn't been able to sleep, even with his long history of obnoxiously sleeping anywhere every chance he got. He'd fallen asleep on Grillby's bar-top more times than he could count.

The door opened after unlocking from the outside and Sans didn't move. There was a quiet chirp of the door monitor and Sans made a note of it. What was the purpose of it if there was no alarm? A remote signal maybe? That had to be it. But where did it go to? Definitely something that updated Grillby directly, something closely related to the cameras he'd bet. Some kind of closed security system, because there was no way in hell Grillby had planned this extensively just to let someone else have access to what was going on in that house.

Speaking of... Grillby had an apartment above the bar. Why the hell did he need a house? It was far too quiet for them to be above the bar, and far, far too quiet to be anywhere in SnowdIn. The entire time Sans had been awake he hadn't heard a single sound of civilization from outside, and not because Grillby had sound-proofed. He'd heard the wind whipping past the covered window he couldn't reach. He'd heard Grillby go down a set of stairs and listened closely to the sounds of soft, indiscernible music and the gentle clinking of dishes.

Another rock sank in his stomach. Where the fuck were they? 

"I'm going to turn on the light." Grillby quietly announced.

Sans shut his sockets in anticipation of the stark brightness compared to the near total-dark he was currently in, and still the light burned when it came on.

"How are you feeling?" Grillby asked, voice infuriatingly neutral.

Sans curled onto his side with his back to the other man and flipped him off. He cast a glare over his shoulder when Grillby snorted. The smarmy fuck was smirking at him.

"Mm, if looks could kill, love." He said with an adoring smile, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sans turned his skull away again.

"Can I get you anything?"

"The key to this fucking thing."

Grillby sighed heavily. "You already know the answer to that, why bother asking?"

"Why'd you bother asking, you fucking psycho?" Sans snapped back.

"Alright, well, I'll leave you alone for now. I'll bring up dinner in a few more hours as it's probably safe to assume you're not interested in lunch."

"Don't bother. I won't eat it."

"Fair enough, I'll still be up to check on you regardless."

"Why? You can see me just fine, in stunning 4k HD I'd bet." Sans bitterly retorted, gesturing angrily to the cameras above and across from the bed.

"It may shock you to hear, but I do enjoy your company, Sans." Grillby replied with an obvious smile in his voice.

"Tch, that's pretty fucking obvious." Sans rolled his pupils at no one. "Don't expect any intellectually stimulating conversation on my end you fucking bastard. I'm not talking if you're not letting me go."

"You'll get bored or pissed eventually, I know you."

Sans bit his tongue, refusing to engage.

"See you soon," Grillby sweetly told him, flicking off the light once more and closing the door again.

Sans listened intently, knowing the door would lock, but straining to hear if he could determine what kind of lock it was. He heard two distinct sounds. The slide and clack of a dead bolt, and the deeper sound of a lock he didn't know the name of but could picture clearly. The kind that secured a door from within the door itself, a sliding bar that slipped snugly into the door frame and threshold with a lever just to the far side of a doorknob. Three point security from the dead bolt at the knob and at the top and bottom of the door. It was almost definitely reinforced and would be a bitch and a half to kick down, even using the right technique.

If he weren't so absolutely consumed with furious outrage, he'd be impressed at the lengths Grillby was taking. 

But he was, so he wasn't.

*

Grillby sat on the edge of his couch downstairs, left elbow braced on his knee with his hand over his mouth. His right forearm rested on his thigh, a cigarette slowly burning down to ash in his loose grip. He stared at the tablet propped up on his coffee table without really seeing it, only focusing his vision briefly when Sans moved on the camera feed he had up on the screen.

It had been around an hour since he was last upstairs to check on Sans. The skeleton had refused dinner as well, not that he was entirely surprised. Sans might have sneaky ways of answering questions, but he never lied, and he did tell him he wouldn't eat it before he even made it.

He'd tried pushing his luck and sat on the bed near his feet, trying to give Sans space but also testing how close he could get to him again.

Well, Sans had landed a shove with his foot forceful enough to knock him straight off the bed onto his ass without expecting it. Even with his faster-than-normal healing for a monster, the spot on his hip where his heel dug in still hurt. He both was and wasn't surprised, he knew kidnapping bringing Sans there would probably make him hostile, but he realized a large part of him had been hoping for a better reaction. Though the likelihood of anyone reacting to that situation in favor of the captor were very slim. 

He hadn't reacted well himself in the same circumstances centuries ago.

Grillby closed his eyes with a sigh, running his free hand through the nervously flickering flames on his head.

This was different.

Right?

It had to be. All he was doing was...

He softly groaned in frustration with himself.

All he was doing was keeping a man hostage upstairs after nearly five years of planning it out.

"Fuck..."

Well, there was no going back now. Not without serious consequences.

He glanced without moving at Sans' phone when it quietly vibrated a few inches across the coffee table. That also wasn't surprising. Sans had been "missing" for almost twenty-four hours now.

What was surprising, or at least enough to send a shock of panic through his veins, was that the fourth text notification of the night was immediately followed by a phone call. He knew that ringtone well, too. He'd heard it often when Sans was shirking off patrol duty in the bar or he'd stayed long after closing to drink with Grillby.

Papyrus.

Shit!

Grillby dropped his long-extinguished cigarette and snatched the phone, fumbling quickly to silence it. Succeeding, he looked wide-eyed at the camera feed. His stomach dropped to the floor. Sans had heard it.

Sans was sitting up in bed, twisted toward the door.

The phone rang again and Grillby managed to silence it much faster, but Sans heard that one too.

At the end of the chain, Sans stood at the light switch, unable to reach the door. He stared smugly up at the camera and waved once.

"Time's up, fucker."

Chapter Text

Grillby was panicking. His mind shut down. He'd expected more time to have Sans warm-up to him before he'd need to deal with The Captain of the Royal fucking Guard.

Shit! He should've known better! Sans had such a low HP, of course his overprotective, overbearing little brother would keep close tabs on him. He just didn't realize it would be that closely!

He pressed his palm to his forehead as he tried to focus, shouting quietly in frustration when the phone rang again.

"He's not gonna stop, you know. Not until I talk to him." Sans very smugly told him from the camera.

Shut it. Grillby glared at the tablet.

After a few breaths he shifted his focus and calmed down. He tried for the hundredth time that day to unlock Sans' phone and thankfully the timer from the last incorrect code had finished and he could try again. 

He'd used every thing he could think of, trying the stupidest joke ones first. But an elusive date just popped into his head, one he'd tried earlier and gotten obviously incorrect.

He managed to tap it out before the phone rang again. Papyrus' birth date.

To his immense relief it worked.

A barrage of notifications popped onto the home screen. Dozens of apps and direct messages and texts and missed calls and old voicemails all vying for attention, all things Sans would just ignore every time he used his phone. He cut directly to the text messages and silenced another incoming call. While it continued to silently flash in the upper corner of the screen, Grillby scrolled quickly through the texts between Sans and Papyrus. He went back several days, nearly two weeks, to comb through the way Sans talked to him. Thankfully it wasn't that much different from how Sans usually talked, just a little snarkier in places and kinder in others.

pap: YOU MISSED YOUR FIRST SHIFT TODAY

pap: AND THE SECOND

pap: LUNCH TOO?

pap: HOW DRUNK DID YOU GET LAST NIGHT?

pap: REALLY SANS?

pap: ALRIGHT FUN'S OVER. WHERE ARE YOU?

pap: I'M FUCKING SERIOUS

pap: ANSWER YOUR PHONE

pap: DON'T MAKE ME COME FIND YOU

Grillby watched the last two texts come in and knew the messages would be seen as "read". Struggling not to panic (anymore than he already was) he interrupted Sans' next remark on the tablet by muting the camera mic and replied to Papyrus.

Sans: fuck paps

Sans: calm down

Sans: im not dead jesus

pap: THEN CALL ME

pap: NOW

Sans: i have

Sans: the worst fuckin hanfover of mu life

Sans: fr the lov of god stop callin me

pap: I WILL TALK QUIETLY. BUT CALL ME.

pap: NOW!

pap: PLEASE

Sans: i dont believe u

Sans: u havnt talked quietly a single second of ur fuckin life bro

Sans: from formin u just screamd

Sans: nd never stopped lol

pap: I MEAN IT

Sans: dude……

Sans: dont make me do shit rigt niw

Grillby's fingers shook as he typed, but rolled with it once he realized if Sans was hungover at some strangers house (he had to control his temperature at the thought) he wouldn't care about typos. He barely cared about typos regardless. And the point came across anyway.

pap: FINE. WHERE ARE YOU?

Sans: a bed

pap: SANS……

pap: I SWEAR TO FUCK TAKE SOMETHING SERIOUSLY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN YOUR LIFE

Sans: dude i dunno??

Sans: woke up acuple times today alone

Sans: slpt with someone

Sans: heard em but havent seen em

Sans: heh bet their regrettin havin me over now

pap: WHEN WILL YOU BE HOME?

Sans: i dunno

Sans: depends on who i slept with i think heh

pap: FINE

Sans: can i go bk 2 sleep now???

pap: FINE

pap: UPDATE ME TOMORROW

Sans: sure thing boss

pap: TOMORROW *MORNING* SANS

Sans: jesus fuck fine

pap: BY SIX AM

Sans: dude get out of my whole ass

pap: SIX. AM.

Sans: fuck off already!!!!!

Grillby let out a slow, relieved sigh when that seemed to end the conversation. While he had the phone unlocked he searched through the settings and gave an even deeper sigh of relief to find that Sans already had his UPS (underground position signal) tracking off. He turned off the setting requiring the pass-code to unlock or access certain apps on the phone while he was at it. Just in case he needed to get immediate access to anything. He carefully set the phone on the coffee table again and slowly pulled his still-shaking hands back.

After a moment he lit another cigarette, taking a deep drag to fill his lungs entirely with the sparking, magic-infused smoke. He tilted his head back and exhaled up to the ceiling with a deep sigh and unmuted Sans when he could hear muffled cursing from up the stairs and saw Sans gesturing to get his attention. Still struggling for calm, he took another deep lungful of smoke and sighed again before he unmuted the camera mic.

"-ey, jackass! You can't just turn it off! He's going to find me! And then he's gonna get this fucking collar off and–!"

Grillby held down the mic on the camera app, interrupting him. "I unlocked your phone." He told him simply.

Sans' arms fell to his sides in shock, mouth still open mid-word. He stepped back, looking down at the floor before he sat heavily on the bed. "I… didn't think I told you that."

"Not the actual date, no. But you did tell me a couple times the day of that you had something for him."

Sans put his face in his hands and fell to his back on the bed. He dropped his arms straight out beside him, his unzipped coat falling open to show his rib cage. "Yeah, you would notice that, wouldn't you?"

Pulse still settling, Grillby found himself wanting to apologize but realized that would get them nowhere and Sans wouldn't believe him anyway. He took a drag of smoke and tried to make himself relax. To his mild shock he was already at the end, the ember burning near his fingers.

"Figured out why you stole my fucking shirt." Sans added dryly.

Grillby looked at him expectantly, crushing the remainder of the cigarette into the ashtray on the coffee table.

Sans shook the chain once before dropping it again. "Wouldn't be able to get the damn thing on."

In spite of himself, Grillby scoffed in fairly good humor with a slight shake of his head.

"When'd you get me?" Sans asked without moving.

Grillby hesitated before he hit the mic again on the tablet. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yeah," Sans shrugged, laying his hands on his chest. "Been buggin' me. Might as well ask."

"Want me to come up there and tell you?"

"Not really."

"Through the door?" Grillby offered.

Sans considered it, jaw shifting in thought for a few seconds. "Yeah. That speaker is shit. Can barely hear you."

*

The previous night Grillby hadn't expected anything to happen. Sure, he had the collar, chain, and cuff combo ready and waiting at his secluded cabin on the far, far side of SnowdIn territory. It was practically at the door to the ruins. Granted while it was about ten miles north of the door, it was almost parallel with it. Between six to seven miles out of town, it was pretty isolated. He could make the trek in around two hours on a good day, closer to three hours when he took his time.

Sans had been drinking, happily chatting with a few of the other regulars. Thankfully he hadn't been trying to hook-up with anyone. Once the bar began to empty around two in the morning, Sans made it known he wanted to close the place down that night. Grillby had shrugged in agreement. Sans had been fairly tame that evening, if a little more intoxicated than normal.

Grillby often let him drink well past closing time, usually only if he was behaving himself. But sometimes if he wasn't, too. He could rarely say 'no' to Sans, and the little shit knew it.

He'd been quietly dusting a shelf of liquor bottles behind the bar, lost in thought for nearly thirty minutes when he turned to grab another bottle and noticed Sans staring at him. He paused for a moment, taking in the drunken smirk on his face as he propped his skull up on his right fist. Then he scoffed, shaking his head with a weak smile of his own as he took down the next bottle to clean.

Slowly, he noticed the jukebox had stopped and they hadn't spoken since he started dusting. He gave Sans a curious glance and saw the same goofy expression on his face.

This time Grillby chuckled, putting the half-cleaned bottle back and turned to face Sans. "Time to go home," he told him, stepping closer to take his empty glass.

Sans had closely watched him walk, lifting his chin from his fist as his face fell. Before Grillby could turn with the glass, Sans lightly grabbed his wrist.

Grillby's heart leapt to his throat at the soft, electric brush of Sans' bare fingers on his skin. In disbelief and assuming it had been on accident, he looked back at the skeleton. A crooked, gentle smile spread on Sans' face up at Grillby before he looked down at his hand and slowly turned it over. Sans glanced back up once before he delicately traced a few slow circles across the warm skin resting between his loose grip.

"Feels a bit like…" Sans' sockets slightly furrowed in thought as he searched for the right words. "warm water. Heh, isn't that weird?"

Grillby remained rooted to the spot, unexpectedly finding himself in a rare scenario he hadn't fantasized about. He hadn't meticulously planned out what he would do if this ever happened because he'd honestly never expected it. He never would've thought something so simple would catch him so off-guard, or that Sans would initiate something so gentle. 

He had no lines in a play he didn't know he was cast in.

"You good, Grillbs?" Sans asked, as he continued to idly run his fingers over the inside of his wrist. Something that was steadily taking more and more of Grillby's focus to ignore so he could remember how to fucking talk.

"Ye-" Sans interrupted him by sliding his fingers under the sleeve of Grillby's coat, halfway up his forearm under the cuff of his shirt. The elemental's fist clenched around the glass as he tightly shut his eyes to avoid fucking moaning at the tender touch. Surprisingly, the glass didn't shatter. Probably because Sans slowly pulled his hand away, leaving Grillby a little breathless and a little shaky.

When Grillby could manage to open his eyes again, he saw Sans giving him a cocky, shit-eating grin. He'd taken the glass from Grillby's hand and set it out of reach on the bar. Grillby felt sparks flood his cheeks when Sans, quite steadily, crawled onto the bar to kneel, making himself about two inches taller than the bar-owner.

"I do like when guys wear ties," Sans said conversationally as he reached for Grillby's loosened black tie. He wrapped it twice around his left hand and softly tugged Grillby closer. "Hm," he hummed in appreciation when Grillby stumbled at the gentle pull. He gave another teasing tug, openly grinning at the way Grillby reached for the bar to steady himself with a short gasp. When he stood up straight he froze, their bodies touching. 

"Makes it easier to get their attention." Sans breathed, leaning in close to brush their lips together.

Grillby shuddered at the long-desired kiss, he couldn't stop himself.

Sans pulled back to say something but Grillby didn't let him. Sans had unknowingly opened the floodgates. He grabbed his skull with both hands and dove in for another kiss, aggressively parting his lips with his eager tongue to finally taste him. Sans grunted in surprise, but not in disgust or disapproval, so Grillby didn't stop. Breathing hard, he slid one hand to Sans' lower back and tugged him close, jerking his knees over the edge of the bar. 

After another moment he decided he didn't want Sans over him. He slid his hands to Sans' waist and turned on his heel. He held Sans tight against him before setting him on the bar a few feet away from where they began. He bent over Sans and kissed him even deeper, hands gripping the backs of his knees to draw their bodies in close.

Sans sighed into Grillby and the elemental felt his knees shake. A cool hand ran around the back of his neck and dragged through his wildly twisting flames. It sent a shiver down Grillby's spine when Sans lightly tangled his fingers in his semi-corporeal flames and he had to pull back to breathe or he was going to actually combust. As he put a smidge of effort into controlling his breathing he noticed the distinct, and familiar, smell of singed fabric and heated leather. He didn't need to look down to know he'd managed to burn the edge of his cuffs, both on his leather coat and his shirt. He was only distantly concerned he'd maybe hurt Sans or done the same to his own clothes when he'd held him so tightly. But Sans didn't seem to notice or mind.

"Fucking hell, Grillby," Sans said with a lusty chuckle, sockets finally sliding open again. "Didn't think you, well, anyone could kiss like that."

Grillby was too far gone to acknowledge, or even register the compliment.

"Also, neat." Sans said as he lazily played with the flames swirling through his grasp. "Fire I can hold."

Staring at Sans' teeth, Grillby recognized that the skeleton was talking, probably to him even, but all he could think about was kissing him again. He leaned in to do just that and Sans stopped him with a short, playful tug on the flames in his hand.

Grillby gave the smallest whimper and reached blindly for the bar to catch his weight when his knees threatened to buckle yet again.

Damnit! This is too obviously desperate! Why can't I just control myself for two goddamn seconds?!

"H-holy shit, Grillby. I…" Sans breathed in quiet shock at the absolute state of the other man. Still breathing heavily after the quiet sound he'd let slip, his hands braced on the bar near Sans' hips, elbows locked for balance. "I barely touched you," he softly added. "Y-you good, buddy?"

Grillby gave an eager, clumsy nod that made Sans grace him with a low, throaty chuckle. "So, what? You're just, sensitive?"

Blushing furiously, Grillby looked away as he nodded again and to his utter dismay Sans pulled his hand free of his flames. He tightly shut his eyes again to control himself.

Fuck! I need him to do that again!

"Mm-my, uh," Grillby cleared his throat. "My place?" He asked, voice low and bright like a fast-growing fire.

"Upstairs?" Sans questioned with a smirk as he started to loosen the grip on his tie.

"Uh, I-I have another place, a-actually."

"Really?" Sans asked, curiosity over-taking his lust.

Grillby nodded, slowly recovering mentally, but hardly at all physically. He was almost positive his dick was about to burn a hole through his pants from the heat and magic coiling low in his gut. It didn't help he could feel Sans hard and ready just two inches above his own belt.

"It's um, more pr-" Grillby cleared his throat as he stood up straight again. His entire train of thought derailed when that made his crotch brush against Sans'. "Ff-fuck…" He stepped back, unable to take back the awkward half-moan that escaped. Sans released his tie and for a horrifying second he thought he'd ruined his first and now last chance to sleep with Sans.

To his surprise, Sans slid off the bar in front of him with a shark-toothed grin and offered his hand. "Tell me where it is, I'll take us there."

*

"So, when'd you drug me?" Sans bitterly asked from where he sat against the nightstand by the door.

Grillby sighed from the other side of the wall. He let his head tip back against the door behind him. "I didn't."

"Fucking liar."

"I didn't," Grillby weakly insisted. "Believe me or not, but I have never and will never lie to you."

"Bullshit. For one thing, you lied about me locking us together. For another, I remember nothing beyond…" Sans trailed off as snippets began to come back to him. "Di-did we have sex yesterday?"

Grillby lightly scoffed. "No, I thought we were going to and then um…" he quietly cleared his throat. "All that whiskey caught up to you after you got us here. About the time we got naked, unfortunately."

Grillby remembered the bitter, infuriating disappointment as he watched Sans actually pass-out while standing after he shoved him against the bed and started to shuck his clothes in front of him. There he'd been, breathless, naked and barely propped-up on his elbows with Sans standing between his knees. He'd been slowly, adoringly stripped bare with patient hands and lingering lips against his skin as each inch was revealed. It had been better than he ever could have imagined. The skeleton stepped closer, their bodies about to touch, his hands sliding slowly up his thighs and spreading them wider as his eyes flickered shut and his head tipped back in expectation… It was finally, finally going to happen!

And Sans went out like a fucking light.

He managed to catch him before he collapsed face-first onto the side of the bed-frame and then sat there in disbelief before outrage bloomed at how devastatingly unfair the universe had been to allow such a thing to happen to him. After a few moments, icy, biting resignation sank in when Sans had begun to lightly snore in his arms and he hauled the skeleton to the bed. 

He'd cut his losses and momentarily settled for sliding in behind Sans to hold him. At the very least he got a taste–however frustratingly brief it had been–of what it could be like to be with Sans. And it was nice to know most of his fantasies had been shockingly close to the real deal and that other moments had totally eclipsed his expectations. He cuddled in close, wrapping an arm around him and resting his chin in the crook of Sans' neck with a surprisingly content sigh. His heart had skipped a beat or two when Sans unconsciously tucked himself in closer.

Maybe he'd get a chance in the morning to convince Sans to stick around a little longer to make up for that.

He dimmed in cold shock as he remembered Sans could just vanish right out of his arms in the morning if he realized where he was and couldn't remember what had happened. He'd obviously been more drunk than Grillby had noticed. It hadn't even crossed his mind that Sans was too drunk to fuck him. He'd been coherent! Not slurring a single word, more than when he was sober anyway. And he'd been suave, pouring on the charm thick like he'd seen him do so often with others.

Panicking, Grillby carefully disentangled himself from Sans and gently slipped from the bed before sprinting to his bedroom. Breathing hard, he searched for the collar and chain leash from the false back of his wardrobe. He stood staring at it for several seconds, heavily debating if he was willing to go through with it, to actually keep Sans.

He reasoned he could bluff through an excuse and decided on it. He took a step back to the other room before he remembered the fucking key to the cuff and snatched it before slamming the wardrobe shut with a wince of regret at the sound.

"Think if I'd've fucked you last night it might've been different this morning?" Sans asked, bringing Grillby out of last night's recollections.

Grillby considered the question for a few moments before answering honestly, "I don't know."

"That's a shame." Sans added. "I wasn't entirely opposed to the idea, by the way. I," Sans stopped to give a dark, humorless laugh. "I was going to tell you that I didn't want to hurt you. For what good it's worth at this point you fucking psycho."

Grillby shut his eyes, biting his lips to stop the sudden steaming tears trying to escape. "I-I panicked."

Sans scoffed.

"After you passed-out and I realized how astoundingly drunk you'd been I, I didn't know if I'd ever get a chance again. Or how long it would be if I did! I just wanted you to be there when I woke up! I just wanted a chance to convince you to stay with me!" Grillby pressed his palms to his forehead as he fought the tears still valiantly trying to spill free. "I didn't want you to just fucking vanish before I could even talk to you."

"Most people just ask for a second date, Grillbs."

"OH! Fuck you!" Grillby screamed at him through the wall.

"What did I do?!" Sans asked indignantly.

"Everything!" Grillby shot back, furious enough for short puffs of flame to blink in and out of existence around his hands as he threw them in the air.

Sans twisted to glare incredulously at the door. "What?!"

"Y-you-! Fuck! Just, fuck you!" Grillby yelled before barely muffling a sob.

"Are you fucking crying?!" Sans shouted, getting to his feet. "You are! The fuck do you have to cry about?! You did this!"

On the other side of the door Grillby was crying into his knees, arms wrapped tightly around his shins. He'd shed so many tears over Sans in the past several years. More nights than he could count he'd spent huddled around a pillow and crying himself to sleep only to go back to work and watch Sans shamelessly flirt with and then fuck someone who'd never appreciate his worth.

"I-I have watched you fuck people who could never want you the way I do!" Grillby finally managed to spit back. "I…" he gathered a shred of courage and added, "I have loved you for far too fucking long to let you leave me!"

Sans slowly sank back to the floor, conflicted as Grillby kept going. He honestly wasn't sure who the last person he knew had said they loved him out loud. His mom? That would have been decades ago. That was fucking depressing. Papyrus loved him, he knew it, but it wasn't something either of them said to each other.

"You were so fucking trashed you barely got out of your shoes before you just passed out! You would've hit the floor if I hadn't caught you! How was I supposed to know you even wanted me last night?! I thought you were at least half sober! I…" Grillby's voice broke and he seemed to let most of his anger leave. "I th-thought you'd finally noticed me." He sadly added. "I thought we'd have fun, I'd finally get to sleep with you, and… then maybe… we could just keep going." He finished miserably. 

After nearly a minute of silence Sans carefully spoke.

"Look I… I didn't know. I didn't know you felt that way." Sans paused before pressing on. "I've always thought you were way outta my fuckin' league, dude."

Grillby scoffed in disbelief.

"I'm serious," Sans told him, a slight smile in his voice. "Fuck, Grillbs, you seen yourself?"

Grillby weakly smiled at the floor, loosening the grip on his legs.

"Says the guy who can talk his way into anyone's bed. Forgive me if I'm skeptical." He added after a few seconds to process past the fact that Sans had just complimented him. Twice.

"I got a uh, thing I can do. Um, makes it, uh," Sans hesitated. "I c-can see what people like, what they want, what kinda person they are… If I want to anyway."

"Great. So you were looking to get laid and there I was."

"Fuck, that's not what I meant."

"Enlighten me then." Grillby tiredly snapped, forearms resting on his knees as he leaned his head back against the door.

Sans sighed. "Look, I meant… I never wanted to take advantage of that with you. I just… shit, I was drunk. Too drunk to remember what happened." He admitted. "I uh, I like you. Ya know, li-like more than a friend. I li–love spending time at the bar and that's mainly for you, ya know? I didn't want to fuck that up. I m-must've just been starin' and then realized you… liked me too."

Another long silence stretched before Sans spoke again. "We could maybe, try this again? Start over?"

All the softly building gentle feelings and reassurance in Grillby's chest died. He felt his expression fall. "What do you mean?" He asked flatly.

"Shit," Sans grimaced, struggling for the right words and knowing he'd already lost. "Y-you know what I mean, Grillby. You're way too fucking smart to play dumb."

"So are you," Grillby shot back. "And the answer is no." He shifted to his feet and stepped away from the door.

"Grillby, c'mon, you can't really expect this to work out like you want, right?" Sans asked, his tone hopeful, trying to appeal to Grillby's reason. "Let's just end it here, we take a break from each other to cool off and come back, see what happens?"

"What's going to happen is you'll teleport straight to your brother and get me executed."

"You don't know that, if you let me go right now, I'll pretend it never happened, okay? Maybe we can go back to how it was before yesterday and try again."

Grillby grappled with the idea. He wasn't exactly a fan of the current situation. It had been his nuclear option to begin with, the last resort that meant no turning back, never going back to the way things were before. And he had panicked the night before. After being shown how incredible it would be to have Sans as his lover. After being shown how little it would take of Sans' direct attention for him to just fucking melt…  

But he didn't trust Sans wouldn't make a break for it at best, or dust him at worst. Sans and Papyrus were two of the few monsters he'd run into that he was positive could potentially best him in a fight. Either way, he'd end up without Sans and that wasn't an option anymore.

He turned over the precise words Sans had used, too. Of course he'd want to pretend it never happened, that didn't mean he wouldn't get some revenge for it first. And that 'maybe' was sneaky, too.

"No," Grillby told him. He started down the stairs and stopped with a flinch when he heard something slam against the wall in the bedroom.

"Fuck you! You think I won't figure a way outta here and fucking kill you?! I've done worse for less you fucking psychopath!"

There was that term again, it felt like it would be one Sans was going to use often. 'Psychopath'.

Well… it was fitting. At least from the outside.

Not that Sans would believe it, but he was capable of the normal range of emotions. He regretted the way this had turned out, he regretted doing something so insane . It had been out of desperation, not malice. At least, that was how he saw it anyway. But there he was, at least one step closer to having what he so desperately wanted. Sans.

He'd researched cases of Stockholm Syndrome long before he even met Sans, long before that's what it was even called, trying to understand his own past. He knew the typical stages of how a hostage could soften toward their captor, when that actually happened. He'd broken down each minor turning point in his previous relationship. Once he made the collar after more extensive research to make sure it wouldn't hurt Sans—just significantly lower the access to his magic—he dove back into psych books and case-studies.

Everything still felt unreal. He'd planned it out well in advance of course, but he was still grappling with the fact that he did it. He'd kidnapped Sans. He was his—hopefully temporary—hostage.

Grillby sighed as he went down the stairs and the barrage of threats, insults, and fury continued. He tuned it out, for his own sanity, as he turned off the lights downstairs, started the dishwasher, and grabbed the tablet and cigarettes from the coffee table.

He did pause to listen before he went to his room when the screaming subsided and he nearly broke down again like he had earlier. He could just barely hear the sound of quiet crying from behind the locked door.

Hating himself, he retreated to his room and sat heavily on the bed. He hesitated before he propped up the tablet on his nightstand, but forced himself to watch Sans curled into a loose ball on the bed and sob so hard his body trembled.

If he was going to do this, force Sans through this ordeal with him, he wouldn't shy away from what it was doing to the man he loved. He needed to be painfully aware of everything Sans felt so he would understand and be prepared to help him when he was ready.

Chapter Text

(Day Two)

Grillby woke up to his phone alarm with an annoyed groan. He blearily looked at the digital clock on his nightstand and needed a few seconds to understand why his alarm was going off at five-thirty in the fucking morning. He hadn't fallen asleep until after three, too focused on his tablet with the live feed of Sans and too emotionally conflicted to fall asleep any sooner. It was still several hours earlier than when he usually went to bed.

Owning and managing a bar meant he was a night-owl. He hadn't woken up regularly close to daylight since he was a teenager, it was almost always when he went to bed. Especially if he was staying at the cabin and had to spend two hours walking home after closing down. The several careers he'd had over his lifetime had all been better-suited to daytime sleep habits. The earliest he could crawl out of bed and function was ten am at best. One of his employees or his daughter were the ones who opened and handled the lunch rush for him.

He blinked in confusion for a while longer before he fully-woke with a jolt. Papyrus! He sat up and shook his head to try knocking the sleep-deprivation loose.

He silenced his alarm and reached into the nightstand for Sans' phone, unsurprised to see Papyrus had already texted. Twice.

pap: WELL?

pap: UPDATE?

Grillby dragged a hand down his face with a weary groan. He'd already opened them, he had to reply now.

Sans: the fuck happened to SIX am?!

pap: I KNEW YOU WOULD FORGET

Sans: im alive 

Sans: breathing even

pap: SHOCKING.

Sans: if u knew how much i drank it would be

pap: WHEN ARE YOU RETURNING TO WORK?

pap: OR HOME?

Sans: i dont fuckin know

Sans: im due for a vacation anyways right

pap: YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS

Sans: y not? 

Sans: i need a break

Sans: catch up on some zzzzs and whatnot

Sans: go get some fruit on my face or some shit

pap: SANS!

Sans: whats the vacay policy again?

pap: SANS!!!

Sans: oh right

Sans: 4 weeks a year

Sans: by law

Sans: u know from the king

Sans: that guy u work for

pap: YOU SLACK OFF ENOUGH TO EXCEED THAT IN A MONTH

Sans: not on paper bro

Sans: been goin on nearly a decade straight

Sans: other than yknow *that*

Sans: which is also mandated time off

Sans: that "cannot coincide with requested vacation time"

Sans: so by that math

pap: DON'T YOU DARE!!!

Sans: 40 weeks? right?

pap: SANS OH MY GOD

pap: YOU CANNOT TAKE NEARLY A YEAR OFF

Sans: not what im askin

pap: THEN HOW LONG WILL THIS *SABBATICAL* BE?!

Sans: i dunno

Sans: keep you updated

pap: YOU DO REALIZE THIS WILL GIVE ME TWICE THE WORKLOAD?

pap: AND I STILL HAVE OTHER SHIT TO TAKE CARE OF

Sans: just a walk to the door and back

Sans: u nd i both know i only have that post to check a box

Sans: nothin ever happens there

There was a long pause where the 'typing…' indicator at the bottom of the screen disappeared and reappeared several times. Grillby held his breath.

pap: ALRIGHT.

pap: KEEP ME UPDATED.

Sans: u got it

Just like the conversation the night before, Grillby released a long sigh of relief that he was convincing enough to get Papyrus off his case for a little while longer. He was astonished and a little concerned at his ability to imitate Sans so well.

Obviously he had a bit of a skewed focus on Sans, but he hadn't realized it was enough to accurately mimic his mannerisms well enough to–on the surface–fool Sans' own hyper-perceptive brother.

Wide awake, adrenaline still rushing through his veins, he decided he should get ready for the day and attempt convincing Sans to eat something. He wasn't sure the last time he ate as he didn't order anything the last night at the bar, and someone like Sans going more than twenty-four hours without eating was not a good idea.

Especially without access to magic to balance out any lack of food intake.

*

(Day Three)

Another day passed, the only interaction Grillby got out of Sans was him ducking his skull under the blanket each time he opened the door, or rolling so his back faced him. Not a word, no rude gestures, not even seeing his face.

He brought up a small but hot breakfast, hoping to entice him to eat. Two eggs over-medium like Sans preferred, two small chocolate-chip pancakes with cherries and whipped cream, and a hash brown patty, along with a still-steaming mug of tea. He wasn't exactly surprised, but he was a little disappointed, to watch Sans from the camera app on his phone, roll over and look at the small, shallow plastic tray. Hidden still by the blanket hooded over his skull, he then reached out and dumped the tea over the plate and rolled back over, putting his back to the door once more.

Still waiting outside Sans' door, he'd sighed and put his phone in his pocket before opening the door once more and taking the tray away. Some of the tea mixture spilled over the edge and Grillby dropped it in reflex with a sharp wince when it ran over his hand. Before he could realize it wasn't even enough to do damage it had already hit the floor.

Great. Grillby sighed, crouching down to pick up the scattered dishes and put them on the tray. He heard the blankets shift and looked up in time to catch Sans quickly rolling back over. He smiled weakly and stood with the tray again. Sans had either turned to check when he winced or when he dropped everything. Either way, he'd still looked back to see him. It was just enough to lift his spirits about guessing wrong on what he'd like for breakfast.

Which, to be fair, he couldn't recall a single time he or Sans had ever had breakfast in front of each other. So maybe he was pissed and also didn't eat breakfast? He knew how he liked his eggs because he usually asked for one on his burger.

Regardless, he left, locked the door behind him, and then returned to clean the thankfully dark, chocolate-colored carpet.

"Anything you're interested in?" He'd gently asked. Sans had remained quiet and after realizing he wasn't getting an answer, Grillby left.

He tried taking up a few single-serve bags of chips left by his daughter the last time she'd stayed at the cabin, thankfully not yet expired, along with a protein bar, a bottle of water and his last can of soda for lunch. (He was overdue for a resupply on junk food, but he hadn't exactly expected when Sans would be staying with him or under what conditions either.) Sans had rolled over again, and Grillby's hope had surged when he laid a hand on the tray and seemed to consider what was on it for about five seconds before he shoved it away. Everything had tumbled to the carpet, but at least it didn't make a mess.

Running out of ideas and with Sans giving him nothing to go off of, he made two more attempts. Once for dinner and again before bed. He tried for something he was positive Sans couldn't resist. Fries covered in homemade gravy with deep-fried pickles and a loaded slider--just one in case he decided he didn't want it, he didn't want to waste the limited supply of meat. That time he watched Sans actually hesitate, but he didn't bother even moving the tray away before rolling over yet again. Which was a little reassuring, that had to mean he was hungry and interested in food, just flat-out refusing to eat it. 

Grillby had returned after fifteen minutes, around the end of the time-frame where the food would still be appetizing. "You sure you're not hungry? It's getting cold." he tried, only getting a disgruntled, indecipherable mumble as Sans curled into a tighter ball. "Alright, up to you." he added, waiting a few moments before he took the tray back downstairs. He had to toss the fries, understanding the appeal of salt on top of salt with beef undertones from the gravy, but it wasn't something he could really stomach. The pickles would be good for another day at least and would easily get crispy again in the toaster oven. Hoping Sans might be convinced to eat them tomorrow, he wrapped them up and put them in the fridge with a few paper towels on the bottom of the container to keep them from getting too moist or soggy. He was able to eat the slider at least, uncomfortable with wasting anything.

Before bed he brought up a small mug of hot chocolate with a shot of a whiskey creamer Sans sometimes requested along with a package of powdered donuts and told him goodnight and to let him know if he needed or wanted anything. Sans had scoffed, so he was at least still coherent. Just stubborn. He didn't return to retrieve it before he went to bed himself, thinking that maybe Sans would eat or drink something once he thought he wasn't watching him anymore. Once he had that thought though, he regretted not leaving something more substantial. But Sans may have seen that as trying too hard and not taken it regardless.

He navigated another check-in from Papyrus around dinner, this one less intense as it seemed like most of Papyrus' concerns had been settled. It felt more like Sans' little brother respected his privacy regarding who he was spending so much time with, not pressing for details Grillby would have otherwise expected.

He answered a call from his daughter, also concerned about his safety since he had unexpectedly dropped off the face of the underground without warning, and made a somewhat obvious connection.

Both Papyrus and his daughter, Ina, assumed they were in a heat or rut (the terms got thrown around, used incorrectly and interchangeably) with someone else. No one close to them would press for details about that.

And considering the amount of time it had been since Grillby had vanished without notice, it definitely caught Ina off-guard and probably raised alarm bells.

Grillby checked the security app on his phone as he idly chewed his thumb in the kitchen. He was running low on cigarettes and didn't know when he'd get a chance to restock. He had a single pack left in the carton in his laundry room, and a little under half an opened pack left. His pantry was full of dehydrated food and shelf-stable staples, so that wasn't a problem. But he needed to ration out his remaining cigarettes or he'd get snippy.

Though he supposed if he could leave Sans alone for an hour he could gather the bark he needed to roll his own. He didn't really care for how he'd never been able to roll them as tightly as the pre-made ones though. His had a tendency to fall apart half-way through.

He heaved a heavy sigh. Sans hadn't moved since the last time he'd checked him. Lying quiet and still in the dark on the bed. He was a little concerned he hadn't bothered him about needing the bathroom at the very least.

The icy silence stung, but Grillby reminded himself to persevere. Sans would have to give in one way or another eventually.

Unfortunately it was in a way Grillby had been dreading.

*

(Day Four)

Grillby checked-in on Sans early the next morning, quietly unlocking the door and peering in. The hot chocolate and donuts were untouched. Sans was on his back, his skull slowly turned to him with a wonky smile. Grillby opened the door wider, flipping on the light to see him better.

Sans didn't flinch at the sudden bright light, but his pupils were dim, fuzzy, and unfocused as he looked up at Grillby. "H-heya… Gr… Grillbs." he drowsily mumbled.

"Shit!" Grillby rushed in, carefully touching Sans' face. He couldn't even appreciate the way Sans sighed and leaned harder into his palm with a dozy smile. "Sans?" He was colder than he'd been several days ago.

"Mm?"

"You need to eat something, what can I make for you?" He'd wrongly assumed Sans had just slipped out of the bundle of blankets he'd fallen asleep in when he'd looked at the app on his tablet that morning while he went through his usual routine.

Sans nuzzled his hand, sockets closing before he fell asleep faster than was normal, even for him.

"Hey. Hey!" Grillby weakly bounced his hand, jarring Sans half-awake and earning a tired groan as he tried to wrap around Grillby's arm. "If I bring you something to drink, will you drink it?"

After a few seconds, Sans weakly nodded.

"I'll be right back, okay?"

Sans nodded again, sockets still closed as he let his hands drag down Grillby's arm when the other man pulled away to stand.

Grillby quickly returned with a bottled protein shake, a sports drink infused with magic, and a straw. He slid into bed beside Sans and propped him up against his chest. He cracked open the sports drink first and dropped the straw in.

Concerningly, he had to hold Sans' skull up to keep him steady enough to drink, but it thankfully took zero encouragement for him to drink it. He slowly finished it off, taking a few breaks to breathe. Without thinking, Grillby planted a lingering kiss on Sans' temple, grateful he'd managed that much. Not realizing what he'd done, his stomach flipped when Sans leaned back harder against him affectionately.

Taking a breath to steady himself, Grillby set the empty bottle on the nightstand and moved on to the protein shake. "This too, love." he gently encouraged, dropping the straw in it as well.

When Sans finished that off too without complaint, Grillby sighed in relief, patting Sans' chest reassuringly. "Good job, that should help."

"Mm," Sans turned his skull, pressing his face against Grillby's sternum. The elemental stilled in surprise. "Like this," he admitted with a smile.

"Y-yeah?" Grillby asked, not sure what else to do.

"Mm," Sans affirmed with a slow, groggy nod. "Warm..."

Grillby guiltily enjoyed the soft moment for a few more seconds until Sans' breathing settled into a steady rhythm. He carefully shifted sideways, cradling Sans' skull to not disturb him as he laid him down on his pillow. Just as he was about to slide off the bed, Sans opened his sockets with a confused whine. Grillby looked back at him in surprise.

"Don' go yet," Sans wearily pleaded, sockets furrowed with hurt. Grillby stared down at him, fighting the desire to stay and hold him close. But he wasn't sure how Sans would react if he woke up and was more sound of mind. Probably violently. (He grimaced slightly as he remembered the bruise he still had on his hip from the other day. It hadn't been a shove with his foot, it had been a furious, and probably, definitely, deserved, kick.) And that seemed counter-productive. He was positive Sans wouldn't believe him if he told him that he had wanted Grillby to get in bed with him.

Sans lifted his hand and dragged it closer to Grillby across the bed, he pressed his fingers against Grillby's hand. "Stay wit' me." he softly begged, sockets and still-blurry pupils imploring him not to leave.

He'd always had a difficult time saying 'no' to Sans, and seeing him so vulnerable and pitiful did him no favors in the willpower department. He'd deal with the consequences later, right then Sans wanted him there, so he would stay.

Grillby nodded, smiling sweetly as he slid back into bed, lifting up the sheets to get closer and pulled them over them both. He considered holding Sans on top of the blanket, but then, one: he wouldn't be able to keep him as warm as if they were sleeping together, and two: he'd miss the perfect opportunity to sleep with most of their skin touching since Sans still didn't have a shirt and he'd abandoned his coat on the floor the previous day. Laying back he felt a rush of conflicting emotion rise in his soul as Sans cuddled in and wrapped his arm around Grillby's torso and his leg over Grillby's thigh. He rested his skull against Grillby's chest and sighed when Grillby wrapped his arm around his back.

Grillby closed his eyes, his thumb stroking over Sans' wrist where it laid near his waist. It was nearly perfect. Something he'd imagined countless times. Curled comfortably in bed with Sans. And yet it was bittersweet. Not truly real. Deceptive.

He took slight comfort in knowing somewhere deep down Sans at least trusted him enough to not be scared of him in such a state.

Thinking over the past few days, it hadn't seemed like Sans had been scared at all. Furious, pissed, frustrated, confused, disbelieving, and maybe even sad or discouraged… but not scared.

It was a small victory. But one Grillby would take.

*

Grillby left the bedroom several more times that day, every time Sans was heartbroken no matter how sincerely Grillby promised he'd return. But he had to get Sans something else to consume. (And he had to check his phone and Sans' to make sure he wasn't missing any questions or raising suspicions.)

He was relieved that Sans was improving with a few more drinks, and by the evening he was able to eat something solid on his own. A simple grilled cheese and fries, but still something.

When it was time for bed Grillby debated letting Sans sleep alone, but it seemed like the skeleton realized what he was thinking and he purposely scooted to make space for Grillby to join him before silently laying down again. He stared expectantly up at Grillby, pupils still fuzzy at the edges like he'd seen so often when he was beyond wasted. So he wasn't entirely in his right mind yet.

And Grillby reasoned he was only taking slight advantage of that fact, so it wasn't that bad. Right? He wasn't trying to sleep with him, he was only sleeping in the same bed. Yeah, that wasn't bad.

He couldn't help smiling before he got up to turn off the light and rejoined him, this time spooning him from behind and encircling him in his arms. Sans pillowed his skull on Grillby's bicep and leaned back against him. And soon, they were both asleep.

*

(Day Five)

Sans woke up ensconced in glorious, full-body warmth. He resisted fully-waking, all-too-content to enjoy that feeling for as long as possible. His muscles were lax, his joints didn't ache, the ever-present burning pinch and sciatica in his lower back was gone. Fuck. He hadn't felt that good in ages.

Was he dead? He was positive he hadn't done anything to deserve something as peaceful as this in the afterlife.

The thought brought him close enough to waking that he opened his sockets. He immediately closed them with a resigned sigh.

Nope. Not dead.

Just in hell.

He could feel Grillby's body wrapped gently around his own and he wished desperately it was under any other circumstances. He would have loved to have experienced this without the fucking collar around his throat. But that put a huge damper on the whole vibe. 

As fucking heavenly as it was.

How did he get there? Well, that morning specifically. He didn't think Grillby would just… slide into bed with him after how obstinate and rude and angry he'd been. He kicked the guy off the bed hard enough to make him wince and hold his hip in pain. And he'd seen Grillby break his hand punching someone before without even flinching.

With nothing else to think about, and not willing to make Grillby move yet, he went ahead and remembered that night. It used to have a weird, confusing place in his heart. But now it was even weirder and more confusing than before.

Sans hadn't even been paying attention to what the Grizzly Bear had said, he'd been talking pleasantly with Grillby, savoring the short chuckle he'd pulled out of him. Grillby's expression had dropped before his head snapped sideways with a livid glare. Grillby had been standing behind the bar, too. Just an unexpected, sudden shot straight to jaw that knocked the Bear to their ass off their chair. Sans, and everyone else in the packed bar watched as Grillby shook his hand with a hard set to his jaw, but Sans and Red Bird were the only ones who heard his bones instantly reset from the quick action. He slammed down the glass he'd been cleaning and stalked around the bar to drag the Bear by the scruff of their neck and then literally kick their ass out the front door. Everyone fell over themselves to get out of his way as he made his way to the kitchen without a word.

The air in the bar took a while to clear, the heat noticeable. Sans had nervously leaned closer to Red Bird and asked in a whisper if she heard what the Bear had said to piss him off so badly. She was the most sober he'd ever seen her when she whispered shakily back, "They were asking about Grillby's daughter and if she really had another dad or if she'd been a mistake." The very idea was horrible to consider, it sent a chill down Sans' spine. But to say it? And right in front of Grillby's face? "Holy shit," Sans breathed, looking back to the kitchen where Grillby had disappeared. "They're lucky they aren't fucking dust," he added with a shiver he wasn't entirely sure was just at the dark implication anymore. She'd nodded and left several coins to cover her tab for the night before she quietly left without finishing her drink.

Sans mulled over that night again, seeing Grillby's rage in a new light. Violence was common Underground, most monsters had a LV of at least three by the time they were thirty, but the instant reaction from Grillby wasn't. That was a learned, ingrained response to fury. As deserved as it had been. Had Sans not been so shocked, he might have made a mental note of that and maybe he wouldn't have been so caught off-guard about his current situation.

Pushing those thoughts away, having let himself get distracted long enough to accept Grillby holding him so gently without trying to make a similar mistake to the Bear that night by waking the man capable of such a violent snap-decision; he tried to remember yesterday.

The day before was hazy. He vaguely remembered Grillby being worried, his voice quiet and reassuring and comforting. The smell of clove and anise and cinnamon filling his lungs as he held him to…

Fuck.

That was right. Sans hadn't eaten anything in days. He also realized he'd lost track of the time he'd been trapped there, too. It couldn't be more than three, right? He hadn't really eaten the day he went to the bar for the last time and he hadn't eaten since he was locked to that fucking bed. That was seriously pushing it for him on a good day.

Papyrus was usually forcing something into his hands to eat first thing in the morning. He swung by most days when he worked to bring him lunch. And he always had something either pre-made for Sans to eat for dinner or he was in the middle of making it when he got home before Papyrus left for a final patrol of the night. He usually ate dinner before swinging by Grillby's but some nights he went straight after work and got several things to eat throughout the night.

It made a piece of him feel guilty for forcing his brother to take care of him like that, but then he remembered he had practically raised him. At the very least he was his primary caretaker for ninety percent of their childhood and most of their twenties before Pap established his career.

But back to the present. Well, yesterday anyway. He kept getting side-tracked. Was that because he hadn't eaten anything in days, or some other random reason?

Remembering bits and pieces, Grillby had firmly encouraged him to… drink something? Several things? He could almost taste the too-sweet vanilla of some kind of protein drink he'd had in the past. He preferred the brownie flavor. 

Then with a silent shock, he remembered asking Grillby to stay with him in bed. His presence had been so… calming? Comforting? At the very least it was warm which is what Sans really wanted.

Definitely. That was all he wanted, was to be warm.

Like he was right then.

Sans stiffened when Grillby sighed softly in his sleep, his arm tightening just slightly to hold him closer. He adjusted, his hot breath on the back of his neck now. And he was shocked he hadn't noticed sooner that he was shirtless. Grillby's arm and his barely covered torso were wrapped snugly around him.

To his embarrassment, he had to fiercely grip the sheet under his hand and the pillow beneath his skull to halt the shiver down his spine in spite of the warmth surrounding him. He held his breath as he adjusted to the feeling before exhaling shakier than he wanted to admit. He didn't want Grillby to be even remotely aware of the fact that he was maybe, possibly, enjoying anything about the current situation.

He did silently curse the bar-owner for so royally fucking up what could have been a romantic moment in any other circumstance. With an acrid bitterness rising in his chest he realized it would have been the first romantic moment of his life.

He'd never bothered with a long-term relationship. He didn't think he had the emotional capacity to care about someone beyond a heat-buddy or the occasional roll in the sheets if he'd had good chemistry in bed with someone. He had a difficult time associating intimacy with sex anyway, in his mind they were two completely separate entities. He got his emotional fulfillment from his few very close friends and his brother and he got sex elsewhere without strings attached. It made things less complicated. He didn't have to risk ruining a good thing either way. He got to keep his friends close and not worry about any hard feelings.

At least that had been what he used to think. He hadn't considered that one of his closest friends, if not his oldest friend, had been secretly obsessed with him to the point of fucking kidnapping him. For God knows how long considering he had zero warning something like this was going to happen.

He resisted the urge to sigh again, not wanting to let Grillby know he was awake. Growing angry all over again at the ruined moment.

Waking up like that after a steamy night? Phenomenal. Amazing. Better than sex.

Waking up like that chained to a bed against your will, tenderly held close by your captor? Horrifying. Awful. Worse than waking up hungover in your brother's bed because you'd puked all over your own while your brother slept on the floor to make sure you didn't die of alcohol poisoning. 

Well, that one was a little unique to Sans specifically.

And yet…

He hadn't done anything to either wake up Grillby or move away from him. He reasoned again that he shouldn't do anything that could risk waking that deep-sleeping rage he'd glimpsed only once or twice before in all the years he'd known Grillby, but a part of him knew that wasn't true. Grillby had given no indication he was going to hurt him, as of right then it just seemed like all he wanted was to have Sans with him.

He stared at the far wall in the dark, knowing it was safe to since there was no camera on that wall and he was almost certain the one over the bathroom door couldn't see his pupils lightly glowing in the dark. Grillby wouldn't know… right? No one had to know. It could be a secret. He could take advantage of this situation and spend some more time feeling more physically comfortable than he had in years. He deserved something right? For enduring the shit-storm Grillby had created.

Sans ignored the growing need to use the bathroom and settled in, closing his sockets as he pretended to just shift in his sleep before he actually fell asleep again.

*

Grillby resisted the urge to sigh against the top of Sans' spine again when he noticed the skeleton went rigid in his arms after he'd done it on accident. Considering he wasn't immediately shoved away, he decided he wouldn't move. Too much.

He pushed his luck and tucked his arm further under Sans' stomach, not moving his face. He paid close attention to the time it took for Sans to recover and tucked that away for later. 

Sans' neck was sensitive.

It took so much of his willpower to stop himself from arching his hips into Sans when the skeleton leaned back harder into him, searching for warmth, or comfort, or (he secretly hoped) intimacy, or whatever it was he needed in that moment. It took even more of his willpower to halt the fantasy spinning through his mind of grabbing Sans' hip and pressing their bodies tightly together, Sans twisting back for a kiss, th–

Grillby bit his bottom lip until it bled, eyes shut tight and barely managing to remain relaxed otherwise to keep from getting hard at the idea. That would have been a dead-giveaway he was awake and aware and obviously lacking in the self-control department. Which he was positive would get him kicked violently out of bed again and that was the last thing he wanted.

He couldn't have what he wanted. Yet. But this was something else he wanted, too.

He surprised himself at the certainty he possessed that Sans would change his mind about everything. But that was enough to let himself fully relax again. He resisted the urge to chuckle when Sans gave a soft shiver he couldn't stop as he unconsciously shifted in bed again, pressing his face against Sans' bare shoulder.

He savored the little victories he'd just won and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

*

"Hey," Sans gruffly said, waking up Grillby with a snort after several vocal attempts to get his attention. Grillby had needed the sleep just as much, if not more than, Sans.

"Mm? Yeah?" 

"Two things," Sans started. "One, get your fucking hands off me." he furiously snapped. "And two, I gotta piss."

Grillby coughed to cover the laugh that nearly escaped and quickly pulled his hands away, sliding back in bed. "Be right back," he told him as he turned to leave.

"I swear to God, if you bring back a bucket I will make you regret it."

Grillby did snicker at that, stopping to glance back at Sans. He licked his still-healing lip and told him. "I'm getting the key for the cuff. I'll take you to the bathroom." 

Sans sullenly looked away and Grillby shut the bedroom door behind him as he left. He quietly laughed to himself as he went to his room to retrieve the key from its hiding spot. So, Sans was still putting up a tough front? After clearly enduring and definitely enjoying a night of an intimate embrace?

Grillby shrugged to himself, pausing before he opened the door to the other room. 

"What's that fucking face for? Molesting me in my sleep get you off or something? Bet it did. Fucking pervert."

The lady doth protest too much, methinks…

Grillby bit his lips with a sly smile, bouncing the brow of his white eyes once playfully. "You asked me to."

The way Sans started to blush with anger before he quickly looked away confirmed what Grillby already suspected. It made his pulse quicken at the sight.

"So, I'm not going in with you, but the cuff is going back on my arm." Grillby told him as casually as possible.

"Oh, how fuckin' noble of you." Sans scoffed.

Grillby sat on the bed near the middle of the headboard, keeping Sans in his line of sight as he wrapped the chain around his forearm three times. He held it securely in his tight grip before he unlocked the cuff. Sans watched him studiously, sitting totally still as Grillby quickly and fluidly shifted the cuff to his left wrist and snapped it shut once more.

They looked at each other for a few tense seconds.

Sans smiled. "What cha gonna do with the key now hotshot?"

"Keep it away from you."

"Mm-hm, how?" Sans asked, rising to his hands and knees on the bed and starting to crawl closer. He made it to Grillby's lap before the bar-owner stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Nice try, now go." Grillby tipped his head toward the bathroom behind Sans.

Sans eyed him slowly, glancing at the key held firmly in Grillby's opposite hand, the one not cuffed to the chain around his collar. He held it at arms length behind him, far from Sans' reach. 

Sans sat back on his legs, laying a hand on Grillby's knee. He watched Grillby gulp, though the rest of him remained passive. Sans narrowed his sockets and roughly stroked the inside of his lower thigh with his thumb. That made the other man briefly close his eyes, but otherwise didn't react.

With a soft smirk, Sans started to run his hand higher. Grillby shifted his leg away and stood. "Either you're going now or not at all."

"I could just piss on the bed." Sans said with a shrug.

"Fine with me, I'm not the one sleeping in it." Grillby replied.

"But you want to be." Sans told him confidently.

Grillby couldn't argue with that. "You're not wrong."

"Show me the rest of the house. I want to go outside. I want to talk to my brother."

"A lot of demands there for someone who needs to pee."

Sans stared back at him impassively.

"I'll show you the rest of the house, but," Grillby started. Sans shifted on the bed, showing he was paying attention. "We stay linked. For now. How's that?"

"And the rest?"

"We'll talk about that later."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Chapter Text

(Day Five)

Grillby tucked the key into the false back of his belt buckle while Sans went to the bathroom. It was a little difficult to manage one-handed as he had to fold his left arm behind his back around the doorway of the bathroom to give Sans privacy. He felt like he accomplished it without any noticeable noise. At least, Sans didn't give any indication of it. He expected to hear a comment about being a pervert for fumbling with his belt and probably trying to get off, but it never came.

Sans scooped up his coat when he walked back into the bedroom, quickly noticing Grillby's hands were free. Grillby lifted them palms out and wiggled his fingers to prove he wasn't holding anything. Sans glanced around the room and up and down Grillby before he shrugged into his coat and half-zipped it to cover his naked torso.

Grillby patiently followed him around the house as he inspected nearly every inch, starting with his own room. He pulled back the curtain and leaned close to the window, sockets furrowing with worry for a moment as he looked out into the wilderness. They were surrounded by trees. Just snow and fucking trees. No spirals of smoke, or distant lights to reveal any sign of civilization. Just a few well-trodden paths beyond the blanket of snow that swerved into the trees in different directions. 

Though it made him prickle a little uneasily, Grillby didn't protest him searching the other bedroom. And the bathroom, the wardrobe, and his nightstand. He looked out the wide bedroom window and the sliding glass door to a small private balcony that offered a gorgeous view of the tall pines as they sloped down into a valley ahead before sharply rising to meet the farthest visible edge of the Underground. A sight that was usually hazy and gray from SnowdIn meaning they really were in the middle of fucking nowhere...

"Your furniture isn't bolted down." Sans observed snidely, pushing the single nightstand next to Grillby's full-sized bed to the side with his foot while he stared back at Grillby.

Grillby shrugged lightly, face neutral.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Sans eyed the drawers of the nightstand. He raised his sockets at Grillby with a small smirk as he took a step closer, he reached for the bottom drawer (most commonly the one reserved for 'alone time' in his experience). Grillby swallowed nervously, his arms crossing over his chest. A clear sign of either fear, or fear of embarrassment.

"Nothin' hiding here, right?" Sans teasingly inquired as he crouched near the floor. "Maybe a key or something? Mind if I take a look? Just to check of course."

A deep-indigo blush burned across Grillby's entire face as he looked away, half-turning from Sans. "Definitely not a key," he mumbled in reply. He flinched when he heard the slide of the drawer and somehow his face grew hotter at the sultry chuckle from the skeleton.

"Ooh, fun, fun…" 

Grillby cleared his throat, closing his eyes before sighing in relief when Sans shut the drawer again.

"Curiosity sated?" Grillby asked, still not looking at him.

Sans scoffed and slid past him toward the hall once more, Grillby stepped back to give him space. Sans quickly looked out the window at the end of the hall, not expecting to see much but hopeful he would see some sign of anyone else this far into the forest. To his never-ending frustration, he could not remember where Grillby had told him the cabin was that night at the bar. He needed at least a general idea of where to go when he teleported, he couldn't just go and expect to get where he wanted to. Which meant Grillby had either told him exactly where it was, or he'd given as best of a description as he could and they walked the rest of the way.

He glanced at the bookshelf to his left and paused before he turned away, looking it up and down once before starting at the top and more deliberately searching through the titles lining the shelves.

"You like to read?" Sans asked with a hint of surprise.

"Yeah," Grillby nodded. "Not a good signal out here for undernet or TV. Or radio, frankly." he added with a little shrug. "Do you?"

"I…" Sans hesitated before replying, not really sure why he was trying a normal conversation with the other man. He had missed talking to someone in the past days, the ones he remembered anyway. And Grillby was had been his favorite person to talk to. He and Papyrus didn't talk much, maybe thirty minutes or less throughout the day. But he would talk to Grillby for hours. "I used to, actually. A lot. For fun even." 

"See anything you like?" 

Sans looked Grillby over once before returning his attention to the bookshelf. Grillby tried not to read into that too much, but it took some effort.

"Uh…" Sans sighed in thought as he looked more closely at the books. After a second he scoffed with a smirk. "You got some uh," he couldn't help casting Grillby a teasing look. "Spicier ones thrown in here." he told him, pulling a thin paperback off the shelf in front of him. "You don't just watch porn like a normal person?"

Grillby pursed his lips in slight embarrassment, trying and failing to hide his smile at being found-out. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment to recover before he gave Sans a knowing look. "And how did you know that without seeing the cover?" He asked, gesturing to the book in Sans' hand. "'The Snailer's Son' is a pretty vague title."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Sans asked with a crooked smile before he slid the book back to its place between the others.

"You can borrow a couple, as many as you want."

"Tch, how generous." Sans rolled his pupils, though his fingers still traced down the edge of a shelf as he curiously stepped closer to inspect the spines, his skull tilting to read better.

"I won't even snoop." Grillby added, glossing over his last comment.

Sans glanced once at him without turning his skull. "Alright, no peeking."

Grillby turned his back, sliding his hands into his pockets as he waited patiently for Sans to make his selections. He resisted the strong urge to look as Sans slid by him to set the books on the nightstand in the other room. He was deeply curious about what he'd picked, but he did say he wouldn't snoop, so he wouldn't.

They continued downstairs, Sans leading the way as he carefully walked the entire outer wall, taking note of the camera placements. There were only two in the entirety of the downstairs level. One in the corner of the living room that covered nearly all of the open floor-plan space including the dining room and a little sitting area by the massive picture window next to the front door. And one more in the kitchen above the pantry door that faced toward the other side of the living-space.

Sans paused at what he was positive was a newer cast-iron stove sitting near the same corner of the sitting area, it had a flat top meant for cooking on with a small iron tea kettle resting on it. The flagstone underneath it was either recently installed or the stove had rarely been used since it was put in. Or it was meticulously cleaned regularly. A neat pyramid of split logs were stacked against the wall. There was also a large river-stone fireplace in the living room on the opposite wall with its own, larger stack of wood. It was nestled snugly into the corner. He noticed the chimney would share a wall with the bedroom he was in upstairs, going up to the side of the window to warm the bedroom and a part of the bathroom. The inside of the fireplace had a still-smoldering fire within from, he assumed, the night before.

"Guess you don't need central heat out here without guests," Sans dryly observed as he glanced around near the ceiling and his assumption of no vents was correct.

"Are you getting cold up there?"

Not with you in the bed with me... The quick, automatic thought unsettled him.

Sans shrugged. "Not really. Lived here my whole life, cold's never bothered me." His sockets furrowed in confusion for a moment. "How do you have electricity? I didn't see power lines outside."

Grillby couldn't help a proud smirk bleeding through. "I… applied for a pilot program years ago trying the logistics of a geothermal generator as a back-up for SnowdIn when The Core was about to be upgraded in case it failed." he gestured to the lights above. "It worked. The generator and the upgrade. I also set up a geothermal heating system long before that so the pipes wouldn't freeze when I'm not here. No need for central heat." He paused a moment before adding, "I didn't really need electricity." he shrugged. "I'm never in the dark. But I figured it would be interesting to learn how to wire it and could come in handy if I ever wanted to rent or sell this place or something… Plus," he shrugged. "I don't have to pay for it either."

Sans considered what he just explained. "Th… The Core upgrade? Like, the one fifty fuckin' years ago?"

"Closer to seventy, but yeah."

"H-?" Sans stopped, confusion taking over. "How long has this place been here?" 

Grillby counted back in his head for a moment. "Uh… eighty-five, ninety years?"

"D-did you build it?" Sans asked incredulously and he realized he had long suspected Grillby was old but he really hadn't considered what that meant. All elementals and some other Boss-Tier monsters (like the King) were capable of living well into several centuries, but he'd always had a hard time wrapping his mind around the idea of living for so long since he'd only been alive a fraction of that time.

Grillby nodded.

"Why?" That was long, long before Sans ever met Grillby.

Grillby laughed at Sans' indignant confusion, before it quickly faded with a short sigh. "I just… needed someplace quiet for myself. Away from NewHome." he explained.

"W-wait, the logistics of setting up a geothermal generator out here in the middle of fucking nowhere for just one house is insane. And expensive. And inefficient. What idiot approved that?"

"It's steam powered, from the sulfur springs." Grillby stopped himself before he gestured to their direction in relation to the cabin. He didn't need to give Sans any frame of reference to figure out where they were yet. "So, it's small and it doesn't need much maintenance." He shook his head in weak apology. "Sorry, I misspoke, it was intended to be a geothermal generator for SnowdIn but they found the springs and switched plans. There's another larger one that charges the emergency back-up for all of SnowdIn territory. They used the first one here as a test model."

"Sulfur springs, huh?" Sans questioned, watching him closely.

"There's a lot of them through the forest out here." Grillby casually replied.

"Mostly on the south-western side near the ruins. And the door."

"Yes, but there's spots closer and larger than those all around here. There's springs on the border of WaterFall, too. On both sides."

Sans shifted his jaw in thought, glancing out the large window in the living room. "Those aren't sulfur springs though..." he said mostly to himself.

"You hungry?" Grillby asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to the kitchen behind him, even though Sans wasn't looking.

When Sans didn't answer, Grillby added. "I'll make anything you want, I even have a little deep-fryer." He couldn't deny the way he loved how Sans' sockets lit-up at that, his scarlet pupils brightening.

*

After breakfast (deep fried bean and cheese burritos) they sat at the dining table for a few moments in silence. Grillby quietly drank a mug of tea while Sans smoked. Grillby reasoned he could probably give Sans the remainder of his pre-rolled cigarettes and go harvest bark on his own later that week. Or maybe he could even afford enough time to make a grocery run for some fresh milk and eggs before he had to open the powdered stuff. He wasn't sure how long the bottled water he had would last and didn't like the idea of a forced trip to town before he was ready to leave Sans alone in the cabin. The nearby hot springs also fed the water supply of the cabin and had a sulfury, eggy aftertaste that would be disgusting in powdered milk and just too much in powdered eggs.

"The other doors only have a knob lock. Why no deadbolt at least?" Sans asked before sighing smoke as he leaned on the table on his forearms toward Grillby at his right.

Grillby shrugged, "Who says it's just a knob lock?"

"You don't have a latch anywhere else."

"That you can see," he answered with a hint of a smile.

Sans narrowed his sockets at him in thought before looking intensely at the front door. "You don't have the windows down here nailed shut, either. I don't think you have any other locks." He told him confidently.

"Wanna check?" 

Sans blinked back at him in surprise. "You'd let me… check the locks?" 

Grillby shrugged again, pushing away his chair to stand. "Sure, go for it."

Sans extinguished his half-finished cigarette and rushed to stand as well. He followed behind the other man as he walked to the front door and then gave a welcoming gesture at the skeleton.

Half-expecting a trap, Sans unlocked the knob and then looked back at Grillby before twisting it and trying to open the door. It budged only slightly, rattling in the frame. Sans tried again, leaning closer to listen as he shut it fully and pulled back. The resistance was hard to place at first but he could hear something catching and after a short pause tried one more time. It was the same kind of multi-point lock on his (It wasn't his door. It wasn't his room!) the door upstairs. He released the knob and stood upright once more, not realizing he'd bent lower when listening in closer. With his back still to Grillby he let his hand fall to his side.

He looked at the window again, pupils raking slowly down the sill and frame with his skull tipping to the side as his sockets narrowed. Grillby followed quietly with him when Sans stepped close to the window once more. Sans leaned close enough to the glass to realize there was no cold seeping in. He held his hand near it to double-check and felt nothing. It was triple-paned glass. It was in almost every house in SnowdIn, but not his own. It had been too expensive and then too time-consuming to consider replacing all the windows, but it still surprised him to notice. He took a step back, looking at the window in a new light. 

His shoulders fell a little. The window didn't open. That's why it wasn't nailed shut. He didn't need to check the others, remembering he didn't notice the hand-cranks or guides on the other windows that most solid glass ones had to pop them open.

He did want to check the back door itself though. And the kitchen door too. He was disappointed to discover that even though each door was different they had the same unseen lock system.

Standing silently in the kitchen, staring out the purposely mismatched colored diamond panes soldered together, Sans asked one of the questions that he'd been struggling with that entire time. Watching the snow quietly fall so close and still unreachable, he said. "How long have you been planning this?" 

"Do you want to know?" 

Sans nodded weakly, pressing the fingers of his left hand against the chilled glass with a relieved sigh, closing his sockets. He hadn't realized how much he missed the familiar cold outside until he felt it again. In comparison, the previously comfortable warmth in the house was suddenly stifling. The air stale and poorly circulated. He longed immediately for the sharp, icy air to fill his lungs just to smell the freezing wet swirls of wind and feel it on his face again.

"Little under five years."

Sans looked back at him, still managing to feel shock at the answer. He met Grillby's gaze before turning back to the window as his mind raced, thinking back to what could have possibly caused the sharp turn in their friendship. To be fair, his interactions with Grillby were so easy and second-nature he could hardly tell the difference between one night from another in the same week, let alone five fucking years ago. He came up with nothing, nothing that stood out anyway. He was scared to ask, worried it was something he did to give him the idea that something like this was even an option.

Instead Sans said, "Dude, what the actual fuck?" earning him a snort that he'd never admit lifted his heavy spirit.

*

The rest of the morning was pretty uneventful. Sans retrieved a book from the room upstairs and sat in the armchair facing the eight-by-five picture window in the living room. He'd turned it to directly face the window and had his feet resting on top of one of the cushions on the deep sill. He was close enough to Grillby the chain hung loose, but had enough distance to not see him out of the edge of his vision. (It helped that the sight in his right eye was fuzzier around the edges than his left). He could almost pretend he wasn't being held hostage by his former friend.

Sans could hardly get through two pages without glancing back at the lightly falling snow outside. He resisted the urge to sigh in longing for the fresh air, but he knew he let one or two slip.

Around two pm, Grillby stretched and set his own book down on the table between him and Sans. He stood and couldn't help a sweet smile when he saw Sans had fallen asleep, his book open face-down on his lap. Without thinking he read the title of the book. Well, play actually. He had to turn away with a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing at the absurdity. 

Shakespeare's The Taming of The Shrew.

Sans was reading that?! In this situation?! Jesus Christ that was so fucked-up and hilarious at the same time. An abrasive, intelligent woman convinced to marry someone who then traps her in the house after the marriage and denies her food and clothes and compassion and gaslighting her until she finally submits. At least on the surface. Several interpretations paint her as sarcastically bending to his will, a more likely outcome for Sans to be honest.

Grillby couldn't contain a snicker after a moment and quickly cleared his throat to cover it when Sans woke with a deep breath. He reached for the throw blanket on the back of Sans' chair and held it out for him, stepping into his line of sight. "Didn't mean to wake you, you can go back to sleep if you want. I was going to ask if you wanted something for lunch?"

Sans took the blanket and folded it across the arm of the chair, closing and tucking his book into the gap between the cushion and the chair by his hip. "You got anything in mind?" he asked, stretching his arms over his head.

Grillby shrugged, grateful Sans didn't notice the lingering glance he gave to his briefly exposed hips beneath the hem of his coat. 

*

That afternoon and evening passed by smoothly until it was time for bed around eleven pm. Early for both of them, but later than the previous nights. Grillby suspected they'd slowly shift to their typical nocturnal schedules eventually.

Sans hesitated in the bedroom doorway for a few seconds, fingers fidgeting nervously. "Uh, couple things…" he started, his back still turned to Grillby.

"Yes?" 

"You uh, you got a spare toothbrush?"

"Yeah, it's in the bathroom."

"Didn't notice it earlier. And uh," Sans sighed, left hand idly tapping his thigh. "Can–?" He stopped immediately with a short growl of frustration. He was not going to ask for anything from Grillby. "I want to take a shower. Been a couple days. Can't stand it."

"Of-of course!" Grillby replied, a little too brightly to be reassuring. He realized his mistake when Sans glanced back at him over his shoulder with concern. "Shit, not like that." Grillby corrected, covering his face with one hand.

"Then what was it supposed to sound like?" Sans asked, turning to look at him.

"I meant that of course you can take a shower, I'm not going to stop you."

"Uh-huh, sure dude. Keep tellin' yourself that." Sans snarked with a roll of his pupils.

*

After some failed negotiating on Sans' part, he relented and agreed to take a shower while still cuffed to Grillby. Whether he held up his side of the promise to not look at him, Sans wasn't sure, but somewhere inside he appreciated it. Grillby had backed into the bathroom with his eyes tightly closed until Sans told him he was hidden behind the shower curtain. He really did want a shower. He very rarely went a day without one, and no matter how drunk he was, ninety-nine percent of the time he managed to at least rinse himself in hot water before bed every night. 

And it was glorious. 

The water in the cabin was fed directly from the hot springs a few miles away. His own ancient water heater could never compare. While there was a slight sulfuric smell that couldn't be filtered out, it was easy to ignore. He stood under the steaming spray with his skull tipped back as he relaxed just a smidge for the first time in nearly a week.

He ignored how relaxed he'd been when he woke up with Grillby so sweetly holding him. That didn't count.

After a decent amount of time passed, Sans decided to get on with the rest of his shower but took his time getting clean. He wasn't exactly sure how generous Grillby would be after that and he didn't want to regret not getting clean enough while he had the chance. It was only half-way through scrubbing down that he realized in mild horror that Grillby had gotten the same brand and scent of body wash he used. A slightly higher-priced brand that smelled like cedar and linen. It was an odd combination and only one brand made it, but he liked it and it wasn't like he was strapped for gold so he splurged a little on it. He'd been too familiar with it in his own shower to notice at first.

Oh, that's fucking weird as hell, Grillby. What the fuck? How the hell did he figure that out? Wait, no, I don't wanna know. Nevermind.

Grillby didn't ask if Sans was nearly done or rush him to get out of the shower, letting Sans take as much time as he wanted. He was rewarded for his patience with Sans reaching blindly for a towel after shutting off the water and throwing back the curtain with it wrapped loosely around his hips, one hand holding it securely in place. He couldn't help blinking for a few seconds in shock before Sans quirked a socket at him in question and he shook himself back to reality.

To his credit though, Grillby did make a substantial effort to give Sans privacy, gathering some clean clothes first (which he swore were not his own as Sans had flat-out refused to wear one of Grillby's button-ups or sweatpants) and even closing the door as much as possible to let Sans undress earlier. They'd actually been for his daughter but she'd never worn them. Neither Ina or Grillby had expected her to come out the other side of getting her magic being taller than him, so they didn't fit.

Grillby was a little disappointed he didn't have an excuse to see Sans in one of his shirts, knowing it would probably be too big and he would look undeniably adorable and sexy in one. And he was very disappointed Sans wouldn't wear a pair of his own sweats. But to his surprise (and yes, he'd admit, a little perverse delight) Sans didn't question whose boxers he was wearing...

Just like earlier, Grillby wrapped the chain around his wrist a few times, holding it tightly in his fist as he unlocked the cuff and re-secured it around the headboard. He left Sans alone to dress, locking the door after he left.

After going through his own nighttime routine and changing into pajama's—that he might have picked specifically because they were more form-fitting than what he usually wore, he wasn't completely oblivious to how Sans had reacted to seeing him naked for the first time almost a week ago—Grillby knocked lightly on the door.

"Yeah?" Sans asked with a hint of confusion, thinking he wouldn't see him again until the morning.

"May I come in?" 

Sans snorted. "Like I could stop you." 

"True, but that wasn't an answer." When silence passed for around twenty seconds, Grillby added something that surprised even him at the confidence in his tone. "I'm going to take silence as permission, Sans."

When there was still no reply, Grillby unlocked the door and struggled not to smile. He stood in the doorway and eyed the skeleton standing completely still between him and the bed. "Do you want me in here again tonight?" 

Sans stared back at him, suddenly uncertain. His pupils were sharp and darted over Grillby as he slowly stepped closer. He felt heat rush to his face as he glanced down several times at the way his shirt clung to his abs, hating the way he couldn't help himself. He took a step back, stopping when his leg hit the bed-frame. His breathing slowly picked up when Grillby didn't stop advancing until he was nearly touching him. He'd never realized how much taller than him Grillby was. He'd always assumed it was only around five to six inches at most, but now he was thinking was closer to a foot than not.

Looking down at him, Grillby carefully studied his expression with a neutral face. He saw anxiety, confusion… anticipation. As he cracked a small smile, his eyes narrowing with a slow sultry blink, he watched that anticipation grow. Sans still looked silently back at him, but his pupils glanced twice down at Grillby's lopsided smile. He tried to take a step back, forgetting he had nowhere to go.

"Shit!" Sans grabbed Grillby's shirt to keep from falling backward. Surprised, Grillby wrapped his arms around Sans to keep him upright. For a moment they stared at each other before Grillby's smile returned and he leaned in close to Sans' jaw, making it obvious he wasn't going in for a kiss.

"So…" he said against his throat, voice husky and low. He softly chuckled when Sans tensed in his firm embrace, his fists clenching tighter around his shirt. "Am I sleeping with you tonight?" He practically purred, his word choice deliberate. Sans loosened his grip, opening his mouth to speak. Grillby purposely interrupted him, whispering, "You don't have to say yes," he sighed, sending the smallest shiver through the skeleton. "just don't say no…"

Grillby waited to the count of ten to give Sans a chance to gather his thoughts and speak up. When nothing was said he leaned close, millimeters from kissing his throat, Sans swallowed hard and croaked out, "N-no,"

Without a question, Grillby leaned away and took a step back. He made sure Sans was standing upright on his own, taking note that he'd risen to his toes in their embrace. "Then goodnight, love." He told him with a soft smile, letting his arms drop. He turned for the door and switched off the light. Before he closed it he told Sans, "See you in the morning, unless you change your mind. I'd love to keep you warm… all night."

The door closed, leaving Sans in near darkness. After it locked he sat back on the bed, trying to ignore how badly his hands were shaking.

Chapter Text

(Day Six)

Grillby grimaced with one eye closed as he tried to unlock and open Sans' door as quietly as possible. He'd heard him half-mumbling on the tablet that morning and saw he was weakly moving in bed. Worried he'd been having a nightmare, he decided to go check on him. Though he reminded himself not to wake him or try to touch him. Sans had once had a nightmare sleeping on the bar, well he had them often if he wasn't totally trashed by the time he went to sleep but one night was particularly awful because he tried to wake him. Thankfully the bar had been empty except for them and two of his employees cleaning up the kitchen, because Sans had reacted violently. No lasting damage was done, but they did have to sand down the bar and re-varnish it after Sans had scorched several lightning bolt patterns across it. 

It was before Sans could teleport, too. So there was no quick escape to avoid Grillby's stunned concern. Or to escape the fact that he'd grabbed Grillby's wrist and left the same black branching bolt pattern through his hand and up his arm. It was long before Grillby had recognized his real feelings for the skeleton, but he still bittersweetly remembered Sans oh-so-gently cradling his hand in both of his and doing his best to heal what he'd done and his very quiet but sincere apology that followed. He still had the bottle of whiskey Sans had given him after the fact in his apartment, unopened.

He managed to not wake him up, but he froze in the doorway regardless. At first in concern, then with growing desire. Sans' forehead had briefly furrowed, his skull turning weakly with a strained breath. His eyes darted quickly under his closed sockets and a whisper of a whine escaped his teeth ahead of a quiet curse.

He was dreaming.

At first Grillby still thought it was a nightmare, until he saw the unmistakable shift of Sans' hips and the way his breathing picked-up with a soft hitch. Sans sighing his name, and the tone of his voice as he said it solidified it for him.

Sans was fucking dreaming about him.

He quickly shut the door, unaware if he did it quietly or not. His heart was pounding too hard and too frantically for him to hear anything else but his name on Sans' lips in his soft, needy voice. Heat flushed his face as he tried to simultaneously enjoy the sound echoing through his head and shove it from the forefront of his thoughts so he could open the door again to see if he could take advantage of it once Sans woke up without looking half as flustered and desperate as he felt.

*

Sans silently arches his back as Grillby steps in close behind him, his heated touch trails down his waist to his hips. Grillby sighs against his throat, cradles the other side of his skull before he drags his teeth down the length of his neck from his jaw to his collarbone.

Unexpectedly, heat surrounds his cock and he groans through his clenched teeth, gasping when the other man bites down on his bare throat. He doesn't need to look down to know Grillby has his dick in hand, slowly stroking him. He moans weakly when Grillby's other hand tugs harshly on his hip. He cusses drunkenly when Grillby rolls his body against him, his erection grinds against his ass.

"Nngh," Sans pants harshly for air, hands grasping at Grillby's wrists.

"Yes? What is it, love? Just tell me what you need…" Grillby growls against his skull.

"Ff-fuck, don't stop," Sans pleads. He's surrounded by, and soon filled with, blissful, mind-blanking warmth. He doesn't want it to ever end. "Don't stop! Grillby… Fuck me… "

*

Still breathing heavy, Sans woke himself from his dream after saying Grillby's name. Somehow he knew it hadn't felt quite right and it interrupted the entire scenario. It still made him crabby that he gave himself blue-balls, not even allowing himself some relatively guilt-free relief. 

He was still half-grumbling to himself when the bedroom door opened. He winced in the light when Grillby flipped the switch, glaring petulantly at the other man. "Dude, the fuck?"

"I wanted to check on you, you said my name?"

Sans stared back at him in cold shock, horrified he'd been overheard. What the hell had he said? And how loud had he been?! He did not want Grillby to know what he'd begged for in his dream.

"I uh," Sans cleared his throat before blocking the light from his squinting sockets. Grillby turned off the light again and Sans sighed in relief. "Yeah. I've been told l talk in my sleep."

"Dreaming about me?" Grillby asked with a grin.

Sans rolled his pupils. "Remember yelling at you, yeah." He replied without lying, shifting and rolling to his side in bed to get comfortable again. And to hide his crotch since he'd been flat on his back. It was barely six am, he was definitely going back to sleep. Maybe he'd even finish that dream.

"Care for company?" Grillby sweetly asked.

Sans hesitated, mind still spinning with flashes from his dream. Why did he suddenly want Grillby in bed with him so badly he couldn't talk?

He shook his skull when Grillby took a step into the room. "N-no, no, I'm good." He told him, hating the way his insides twisted at the thought of sleeping alone again. Cold and frustrated and with far too much bed to fill by himself. Something he never thought he'd be upset about. The queen bed he was in was smaller than the one he had back home, and he'd never had an issue with that one being empty. 

He shook his skull again, this time to clear his thoughts. "Uh," he struggled with if he wanted to voice his request, or if he even wanted to make it a request or a demand. It would probably be taken the wrong way no matter what he said.

"Yes?" Grillby prompted after a moment.

Sans sighed. "You have any extra blankets?" he asked, immediately regretting it. He shouldn't be asking for a damn thing. But it wasn't like he could just make the guy magically produce them if he didn't. And it was marginally better than saying 'I want some extra blankets' which sounded more desperate. 

"I've got a few, any kind of preference?"

Electric? Getting real cold in here.

"Um, an-anything's fine. I uh," Sans sighed with a slightly embarrassed smile. "I have a weighted one at home."

"Ah, I have a few heavier quilts. Be right back." Grillby said with a quick nod, he left the door cracked open as he lightly jogged downstairs.

Sans released another long sigh, barely listening while Grillby was gone and only snapping back to reality when the door creaked open wider. Before he could stop him, Grillby lightly unfolded the quilt with a smooth flourish and laid it over Sans, making heat rise in his cheeks. 

"Better?" 

Sans just nodded, biting his tongue to keep from thanking him.

"Alright, sleep as long as you want. I'll make you something to eat when you get up."

Sans nodded again, quickly rolling over and adamantly ignoring the way his stomach flipped pleasantly as he breathed in the smell of spices of mulled wine.

*

To Sans' surprise, Grillby 'let' him leave the room again after he brushed his teeth and used the bathroom. Still chained to his arm, of course. He hoped he managed to hide the mild shock as they went downstairs, he'd half-expected some kind of 'punishment' for not letting Grillby sleep in bed with him again or letting him kiss him the night before.

Sans brought another book with him forgetting he'd left the other tucked into the armchair in front of the window. A book he hadn't even thought of since he'd read it in college for an English lit class. It was one of the few more recent books that fell from the surface. He opened it in the kitchen while Grillby cooked, leaning his back against the counter beside him and crossing his ankles. Sans didn't have a preference that morning so Grillby was making eggs, hash-browns, and pancakes. He was less creative with breakfast compared to lunch and dinner as he didn't serve breakfast at the bar and his daughter had been aggressively consistent about her food growing up.

He was slightly disappointed when the spine cracked as he opened the hardback. Grillby hadn't read it?

He'd apparently made the disappointment obvious, or at least obvious to Grillby, because the other man asked. "What's wrong?"

He frowned when he realized he'd been hoping to talk to someone about it like he'd been able to in class. He wanted an excuse to talk to Grillby. In a way he didn't have to initiate and let him think he actually missed any part of their ruined friendship. With a short sigh Sans closed the book and pushed away from the counter to sit on the one in front of the kitchen door where Grillby couldn't see him without turning around. "Nothing," he replied as he set the book beside him and stared out the multi-colored window.

Thinking better of pressing him for an answer when he knew something was bothering him, Grillby returned to cooking.

*

Grillby discovered Sans had an intense hatred of tea, when he not only declined a mug but told him to put his own mug on the opposite side of him the day before when they sat down because he could smell it. However, he knew that he did enjoy hot chocolate. While Sans was distracted, staring intently out the stained-glass window of the kitchen door, he quietly whipped cream from scratch and mixed together the same recipe he used at his bar. There was a little more effort put into the steaming mug that morning compared to one of his employees just making one for a customer. He hoped the extra effort paid off. He did regret not considering that sooner when he'd left the cocoa out for him the other night. He'd just used instant cocoa, but maybe he could have got him to drink it if he'd made it himself. There would have been more magic intent in it after all.

His soul lifted happily when Sans gave a bewildered, but maybe grateful, smile when Grillby set their plates on the table and put the almost perfect mug of cocoa at the seat Sans had seemed to prefer. The one where he could see the front door. Bizarre and awkward and well, illegal as their situation was, Grillby still loved making Sans smile of course.

It was almost perfect because it wasn't Sans' moms homemade hot chocolate, but it was the second best he'd had. Sans didn't tell him that of course, but he polished it off before he even finished breakfast and didn't refuse when Grillby refilled it. Twice. He did make a comment about 'rotting his teeth' with a smile after the final refill though.

Testing boundaries, Grillby started lightly brushing Sans' nearly-invisible skin every chance he had. First gently trailing his fingertips down Sans' forearm, standing behind him as he retrieved the dishes from breakfast before Sans could stand and do it himself. Not getting a negative response—Sans only froze in place—he continued, looking for mostly innocent opportunities.

He lightly, briefly put his hand on the small of Sans' back to step around him to leave the kitchen, earning him a short, quiet gasp. Put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention while he was reading, giving a quick affectionate squeeze. Nudged his knee away from the sink with his palm before washing vegetables for lunch, sneaking in another quick squeeze on his thigh before Sans could say anything. He made sure to move his leg before he put on his rubber gloves.

He was prepared to back-off the moment Sans started to show any discomfort, but to his surprise it only seemed like Sans was getting quickly accustomed to it.

He put a pause on it when Sans gave a quiet sigh, beginning to relax into the touch when he put both hands on his shoulders to gently slide him out of the way of a drawer before he abruptly stepped away without explanation. Grillby didn't press him for one, but chalked up another win.

*

(Day Seven)

During his shower the next night Sans found it difficult to clear his head. He'd let Grillby had nearly kissed him the evening before, while he was about to go to bed. He'd leaned in and almost closed his eyes. He'd held Sans close, but not so close or tight that Sans couldn't lean away. But he didn't. And he wasn't sure why. 

Instead he stood in the loose embrace, watching intently as Grillby stopped just centimeters away from kissing him. He'd closed his sockets in anticipation, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the heat of his body so close to his own. As Grillby's heated sigh passed over his lips his teeth unconsciously parted.

With a knowing smile, Grillby pulled slightly back, his heavy-lidded eyes looking down at Sans' softly blushing cheekbones. 

"Am I sleeping with you tonight, my love?" he asked, still only an inch from his face.

It took Sans a concerning amount of time to answer, to Sans anyway. He should have answered immediately. Shoved Grillby away. Gone straight to bed. To his shock he'd considered it as he looked up at the other man, smiling so patiently, so gently at him. No one had ever looked at him with such a tender fondness. He found himself shamefully wanting more. Eventually coming to his senses he glanced away, breaking through the spell he'd been under.

"No," Sans replied, his voice more firm than it had been the previous night.

Grillby nodded, his smile never fading as his hands shifted from Sans' back to his biceps. He planted a quick peck of a kiss on Sans' forehead and stepped back. Sans had shut his sockets and fought hard to not lean into his kiss. 

"Then, goodnight Sans." he breathed, leaning close for a few seconds more and moving in like he was going to kiss his lips, before turning off the light and leaving.

Back in the present Sans was struggling to keep his cool. This shouldn't be up for fucking debate! He shouted internally. This fucking freak shouldn't have any kind of hold on me!

He roughly dragged his hands down his face, taking a few deep breaths as he tried to drive away the flashes of his intensifying sex-driven dreams. He knew Grillby had heard something when he fell asleep on the couch earlier that day from the slick smile on his face that he tried to hide behind his fist. He woke up with a start and found Grillby sitting in the arm chair by his skull, leaning against his closed fist with his legs crossed as he gave his book far too much attention to be natural.

It had barely been a week! Why the fuck was this fucking with him so badly?!

He couldn't stop what had become a frequent intrusive image seared into his brain. A snapshot of Grillby on top of him the morning everything went to shit. It was just seconds before he came the first time. Sitting up, one hand braced on the bed, the other clawing roughly across his own chest as his head tipped toward his shoulder and he started to whisper-chant Sans' name with his eyes shut tight. It was almost immediately followed by another he hadn't thought of since that morning, the second time Grillby came. He'd been underneath him, hands gripping the mattress over his head, elbows bent and bracketing his face. He had his face turned into his bicep as he groaned loudly through his teeth before suddenly gasping, back arching as he stared wide-eyed up at him. 

He remembered a detail he'd nearly forgotten about that morning that sent a goddamn shiver down his spine and made his gut pull tight. Grillby exhaled straight up steam when he got too worked-up. It happened the second time he came because his jaw had dropped open, but Sans suddenly remembered it happening a few times before that, too.

A fact that was both ridiculously endearing and downright pornographic. How was that something that actually happened in real fucking life?! It was like something straight out of movie!

FUCK!

Sans harshly pressed his palms against his sockets, attempting anything to get Grillby out of his head. Again he realized that it would have been sexy as hell to be stuck having flashbacks to some of the best sex of his life and getting hot and bothered every time he was around Grillby at the bar. Doing his best to keep his shit together while also doing everything he possibly could to get in his bed one more time. Just to witness blissful perfection first-hand all over again and appreciate it fully. 

He idly wondered before he could stop himself if Grillby would notice and start subtly flirting with him, teasing him while working the bar and then pretending he'd done nothing once he'd started to rile Sans up. Or if he'd be a flustered mess. The typically stoic, impassive, and collected man suddenly clumsy and blushing every time Sans made a double-entendre or quiet comment that would take him straight back to those moments alone together. Stumbling over his words with other patrons and his employees, hoping no one noticed. Leaning closer to the bar and refusing to move from behind it to go take drink orders as he tried to hide the obvious bulge in his jeans.

He slowly relaxed the pressure on his sockets, rainbow spots and static flickering within the black of his sight. He took several deep breaths, forcing his muscles to untense and attempting to unwind the intense coil of desire in his gut.

Grillby quietly cleared his throat from the other side of the shower curtain and Sans remembered with horror that he wasn't alone in the bathroom. How hard had he been breathing?! Fuck! Did it sound like he was trying to jack-off with Grillby only two fucking feet away?!

Goddamnit! Now he's just going to be worse! I don't know if I could take it or control myself if… when he is…

Another realization hit him that should have been obvious by that point, but he still glanced down in shock to see he was rock-hard and fucking twitching.  

Sans furiously shut his sockets and tapped his his knuckles against his forehead to focus. Unfortunately, the constant flow of scalding water did him no favors, forcing him to intensely recall how it had felt to fuck Grillby. He reached blindly for the shower knob to turn the temperature down, biting his lips and grimacing silently as icy water sent a deeply unpleasant shock through his system. He endured, beginning to shake and feeling a cold sweat break over him from the abrupt temperature change as his confused body tried to compensate.

It worked. 

He released a slow, silent sigh of relief, dropping his hand from his face and opening his sockets to adjust the water temperature to something more bearable. He realized a moment too late that he hadn't even got the chance to really wash after he turned off the water. He didn't want to turn it back on and explain himself so he hoped Grillby would keep up this arrangement regardless of what he did or didn't hear earlier.

*

In what was starting to become an expected routine, Grillby opened the door to Sans' room after he was dressed again and looked adoringly at him. Only this time he leaned against the frame, hands in his pockets. His head tilted as his smile turned just this side of sultry, gaze obviously raking slowly down and back up Sans. 

The skeleton watched, waiting. He had no clue what he was going to do if Grillby closed the distance between them and teased with another kiss he had no intention of following-through with. Instead leading Sans on and waiting for him to make that final move of only centimeters for their lips to meet. Would he be able to push him away again or would he finally crumble under the steadily growing and unbearable sexual tension?

He didn't get a chance that night.

Grillby chewed his bottom lip before he winked slyly at Sans, flipped off the light and shut the door.

Sans stared at the door in shock as the locks clacked loudly into place. What the fuck was that?! He furiously thought, surprising himself at the bitter disappointment of rejection that instantly bloomed in his chest. 

He looked down at the carpet, left hand anxiously tapping his thigh in thought. The audacity! To not only trap him there but to relentlessly taunt him, to put all the burden of choice on Sans, only to deny him the opportunity to finally relent and accept the (not really) unwanted advances. He sat on the bed and angrily shifted his jaw as he grappled with idea that he actually wanted Grillby to just fucking kiss him already! At the very least! Was that so much to ask for in this insane situation that he didn't even want in the first place?!

He sighed, shutting his sockets for a moment before looking up at the ceiling.

How much did he actually want Grillby to do? His fists clenched on his thighs as he shut his sockets tight and bit his lips to hold back the sound of deep want that threatened to escape.

Everything. He wanted Grillby to do everything to him.

He fell back on his bed, legs still hanging over the side as he struggled to understand what the hell was wrong with him. Grillby had fucking kidnapped him. He was being held hostage. Kept on a short leash, literally. All communication with the outside world cut completely off. In the middle of fucking nowhere. With currently no chance of escape.

And yet…

Tantalizing scenarios danced so temptingly through his mind. Grillby giving him that stupid fucking line again. Sighing against his throat, "You don't have to say yes, just don't say no…"

Where did he get off spitting shit like that at him?! And then leaving him high and dry, cock-blocking him worse than his own brother had dozens of times over the years. His dick, pretty neglected by that point, actually ached from how hard he was. He bitterly remembered how hard he'd been so often the past few days, sometimes several times a day after a gentle brush of Grillby's hot fingers down his bare skin. Or once after a playful hip bump to push Sans away when he curiously leaned closer to the stove to see what Grillby was cooking.

A sudden idea hit him and he couldn't help looking directly at the camera above the bed.

Fine. You wanna be a tease? Two can play that game.

He gave a brief thought to how he'd clean the mess afterward as he slid the waistband of his loose sweatpants to his hips, before deciding he didn't give a single flying fuck. He was too pissed and too horny to care.

He usually wasn't one for 'solo-work' with sex, it was something that seemed pointless without physically sharing the moment with someone unless he was completely alone of course. Phone sex and sexting rarely did anything for him, but if they'd been a good lay he'd indulge a little just to get back into bed with them. But he did know how to put on a show. And since he had little else to think about, he'd been piecing together the last night at the bar. Most of it was blurry and blunted like it always was when he got drunk, but he'd remembered enough. Watching Grillby stop in his tracks when he took his wrist and unintentionally giving him a shallow soul-check. He'd seen, and now remembered, a few of the racy, raunchy things that had flashed through Grillby's mind when he stroked his arm, running his fingers under the cuff of his coat sleeve.

Most of it had been surprisingly vanilla and tame when it was something he was imagining doing to Sans, but the shit he'd been wanting Sans to do to him? Holy fuck, if they weren't in this situation he'd have been a little concerned for the guy. But it did give him a better idea of what Grillby fantasized about. For example, he'd apparently been stuck on what Sans would sound like in bed.

He was usually pretty quiet. Once he learned it was something his one-night-stands didn't really find appealing for one reason or another, he kept his sounds to himself. Only getting vocal if they requested it, and more often than not regretting it when one laughed at him after the fact and several of them arrogantly thought they'd made him get that loud. Like it wasn't his default.

He rolled his pupils at the prickling recollections. Well, fuck that. Grillby wanted to hear him? He could do that. 

Just for some payback.

Of course.

He didn't really think about what he wanted to get out of going through with it. If he wanted Grillby to keep pushing his boundaries or if he wanted him to back off entirely. Again, too horny and too pissed to think clearly or further ahead than the next five minutes.

He considered moving to a more comfortable position before taking into account the potential angles of the cameras and deciding his current position would give the best view of his face and what he was going to do. He debated making sure he had Grillby's attention by calling his name before he got started. But there was no way Grillby wasn't watching him after his little stunt to see how Sans reacted to it.

He flashed a smug grin at the camera over the headboard and carefully tugged his shirt higher to show off most of his rib-cage and ran his hand over his chest under the button-up. His left hand slipped under his waistband, not giving Grillby the satisfaction of fully seeing what he was doing.

He let the honest, relieved moan leave his teeth, sockets closing as he felt heat rush to his face when he only brushed his fingers against his hard skin. "O-oh fuck…" he sighed as he wrapped his grip around himself and began to stroke. He'd genuinely never felt something so intense from his own hand before. He quickly lost focus, giving-in to what his body so desperately wanted for several solid minutes. Clutching at his chest with harsh breaths and quiet cursing, occasionally bucking his hips into his hand with a low groan.

He grit his teeth remembering the heated touches, bedroom eyes, and almost constant teasing from the other man. The way his hot sigh had brushed across his throat, the brief moment his lips had been so close that just gulping in anticipation had earned Sans an accidental feather-light tease of a kiss… How just that much had been enough to make his gut coil tight in expectation.

"Nnngh!"

Eventually he remembered what he was doing and managed to open his sockets, looking directly at the camera over the headboard as he grinned and licked the edges of his sharp teeth. Panting hard he fought to raise his voice. "Thinkin' of you, baby-doll…" He moaned again, cock pulsing in his grip in warning as he added, "You th-thinkin' of me?"

Fuck!

His chest began to heave, he couldn't keep his sockets open at the thought of Grillby touching himself watching him. His white eyes narrowing, flickering like a sigh across a candle before closing in pleasure as he maybe used one of those toys he saw in his nightstand, imagining Sans fucking him again. He wondered if he did that every night while watching him sleep, remembering or maybe even replaying and re-watching that morning together.

"Oh, God!" Sans shouted, his skull pressing back into the bed before he groaned roughly through his teeth as he fought not to cum yet.

Why is that so hot?! The fuck is wrong with me?!

"Shh-shit!" He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out. His original plan of stopping himself before he came to just further torture Grillby was fast becoming something he didn't think he could manage. It had felt like years since he'd fucked Grillby only a week ago! Which had been the last time he'd gotten off. In his sleep or otherwise.

He groaned again, breathless as his spine arched. 

Goddamn! This is so fucked!

He felt himself reaching the edge, beginning to shake as he couldn't control the pace of his breathing or his hand. His body had been completely hijacked now that he'd given in. Totally losing the cool, suave, fuck-you attitude he'd been attempting to maintain.

Mind blank except for flashing images and snippets of sounds from Sans' dreams and reality and a few waking fantasies, he couldn't stop himself before he moaned out with intense longing, "Grillby…!"

The brief embarrassed shock at his own mouth for betraying him so thoroughly was instantly washed away when he heard the muffled, "Oh, fuck!" from across the hall. Behind two doors.

Grillby was watching him.

Grillby was fucking jacking-off and watching him.

And he just came from hearing Sans call out his name…

Yeah. No way was he going to be able to stop now.

"Hh-! Hah! FUCK!" Sans' free hand had snaked under his shirt to his neck, his fingers wrapped tightly around the collar at his throat and he unconsciously pulled down as he came hard. He jerked forward, curling in and shaking as he gasped for air ahead of another low wordless moan.

He fell limp back on his bed, breathing hard. His right hand hung loose from the collar before sliding to his chest, his left just stayed in place as his cock went soft. Finally satisfied after seventy-two hours, or more he wasn't entirely sure, of constant teasing with zero relief. He was positive he'd never went so long denying himself an orgasm if he wanted one before then. He barely had the patience to not just teleport home and take care of himself if he even had an inkling of a desire to cum.

And Grillby had been holding him hostage in more ways than one. Giving him scraps of intimacy and lustful longing, keeping them just out of reach and waiting patiently for Sans to move in and take them.

The smarmy bastard would have never let him live it down if he'd cracked first and made that first conscious, willing move. And the power balance that was so drastically tipped in Grillby's favor would just tip even further.

Thinking a little clearer, Sans was grateful Grillby hadn't pushed the same way he'd been for the past few nights after he'd slept in bed with him then stopped when Sans refused to let him. He realized he was in such a desperate state of mind he would've caved and dragged the other man into bed with him and fucked him stupid.

And God, even though he'd just cum, pretty intensely if he was being honest, the idea of fulfilling some of those fantasies he saw pass through Grillby's mind at the bar sent a shock of desire through his veins. Strong enough to make his dick start to perk back up.

Pinning the much-stronger (physically anyway... he assumed), larger man to the bed as he was willingly helpless beneath him. Maybe even chaining him or handcuffing him to the bed so he couldn't fight back or escape for a change. Pulling desperate pleading and his name from his lips as he let Sans do whatever the fuck he wanted with him.

Goddamnit… How dare he make me like this… Fucking more desperate for him, his touch, sex, just sex, than I can ever remember.

He swallowed, trying to parch his throat as he refused to investigate his own actions or thoughts or weird (and concerning), previously unknown desires.

With an awkward grimace, he wiped his hand clean in his pants and glanced back at the camera with a crooked smirk. "Fuckin' pervert," he said with a weak chuckle.

Chapter Text

(Day Eight)

The next morning after their separate but mutual masturbation, most of Grillby's previously teasing nature had faded. Before his expected greeting of 'Good morning, love', Grillby held up the key to Sans' collar. Sans could tell it was different from the one that unlocked the cuff and tucked that knowledge away for later. Without speaking, Grillby turned the front of the collar toward him and for a split-second Sans thought he was going to be free.

To his minor disappointment, it only released the chain that connected him to the cuff and the bed. While he stood there in shock, looking down at the chain piled heavily near his feet, Grillby left. He returned and silently brought Sans a fresh pair of sweatpants and boxers and when he looked him in the eye handing them over, sparks darted over his cheeks and he quickly looked away.

Sans resisted the urge to laugh, and the urge to poke a little fun at his suddenly awkward demeanor. He did start to untie the drawstring of his sweats in front of him and then couldn't help but laugh when Grillby's eyes went wide and he immediately turned around.

Aw, embarrassed or just afraid you won't be able to stop yourself? Sans thought with a smug, triumphant smile. He wondered before he could stop the image from blazing into his brain, what would Grillby look like on his knees at his feet, eagerly sucking his cock…?

He quickly changed his pants before his body caught up with his mind and silently stepped close to the other man.

If one night of giving just a little sexually Grillby released him from the chain after adamantly keeping him literally within arms reach during all waking hours, what could a little more get him?

He traced his fingertips up Grillby's bare forearms, biting his lip to contain another laugh when it made his breath catch in surprise, fists clenching tight at his sides. Sans pulled his touch away and let Grillby think for a second that was the extent of it before he carefully trailed his hands down his back, sliding to briefly hold his waist before wrapping his fingers over his hips.

Grillby started to glance over his shoulder, Sans roughly dug his fingers in and jerked him back. Not enough to make their bodies touch, but more than enough to startle a harsh breath out of the other man. Sans rolled his fingers over his hips and placed a lingering kiss to the center of his spine, making Grillby give a short, quickly cut-off whimper.

Sans was severely tempted to do more, to pull more pathetic, needy sounds out him until he was begging … He needed a second to compose himself at the thought, but decided less was probably more in this situation and took a step back. He turned and headed for the bathroom, looking over his shoulder in time to catch Grillby bracing his arm against the wall with his other hand on his chest as he struggled to settle his breathing.

Hm, this might be fun after all…

*

Sans was a little confused when he didn't see Grillby downstairs. He'd only been been there for a week and had even less time untethered to the other man, but it felt weird to be alone on the first floor. Not really knowing what else to do with himself, he sat in his usual chair in front of the window and picked up the book he'd left out the evening before.

His sockets widened when he realized he'd left the first thing he been reading tucked into the side cushion of the chair. Shit. He hoped Grillby hadn't seen that. Actually, he was just going to pretend he hadn't and took the play from the cushion and quietly jogged back upstairs to replace it on the shelf.

Why had he picked it to read? He wasn't entirely sure. Maybe he'd been looking for tips. Maybe he had a sick sense of humor that day. He couldn't remember. But he didn't need Grillby to see it. 

He jumped when Grillby opened his door, letting go of the book's spine and sharply turning to face him with his hands behind his back. Like that wasn't the most obvious way to try hiding what he'd been doing.

Grillby froze too. He'd changed out of his pajamas and had a small bundle of clothes in his free hand.

The elemental looked away first, clearing his throat as he shut his door and walked downstairs. Sans quietly sighed, holding a hand over his chest and taking a few deep breaths to lower his pulse.

They didn't talk, but Grillby had turned his record player on low for something to fill the silence while he cooked and Sans sat in the dining room, finally free to move. (He wasn't missing the closeness to Grillby he'd been forced to endure the past few days. That thought could fuck right the fuck off, thanks.) In spite of himself, Sans couldn't help smiling as he recognized the album. One Grillby had played often on quiet, slow nights at the bar when he took over the jukebox. It was Tracy Chapman's debut.

He held back a snicker when he saw Grillby tense at the second song on the album, 'Fast Car' as he watched from the dining table. He couldn't stop himself from outright laughing when the fifth song started playing. 'Baby Can I hold You', and Grillby dropped his spatula and sprinted to the living room to stop the record before it hit the fifteen second mark and she sang the first line. 'Sorry, is all that you can say…'

Apparently he'd forgotten the lyrics of most of the songs.

However, Sans remembered every single line of that one because he'd often heard Grillby softly sing it in his soothing tenor when the bar was empty except for Sans.

Well… shit... Sans thought, mood souring quickly as he was positive that soft memory was ruined forever now.

Blushing hard in embarrassment, and probably shame, Sans assumed, Grillby took a quick breath and slid the record back into its sleeve. He very quietly cleared his throat, turned off the player, put the record back on the shelf under the stand and didn't pick something else.

They didn't talk after breakfast either and it was nearly noon, the calm yet heavy silence stretching on.

Sans sat in front of the massive window with his feet up like usual. Only he felt even more relaxed after his stress-relief the night before. He hadn't sleep that good since he woke up a week ago (And no, the night Grillby slept with him holding him close didn't count.), and he wasn't chained to Grillby anymore. The elemental wasn't at just the edge of his vision, he had personal space finally and freedom to move as he pleased—for the most part he assumed—in the cabin without having Grillby as his constant, persistent shadow.

Grillby was on the far end of the couch, struggling to concentrate on his book. He'd been staring at the same page since he'd opened it and sat down. He could not stop thinking about the night before. The sounds; excited panting, moans Sans seemed to refuse to even try to contain, saying his fucking name. He'd lost it at that point, caught completely off-guard and was so, so disappointed he finished before Sans had. It had sounded even better than that first morning he'd made him scream his name when Sans came the first time.

How he'd directly taunted him, knowing Grillby was watching and knowing exactly what he was doing as he did. And how he still kept going, seemingly unashamed and even excited at being watched.

His final taunt of 'Fuckin' pervert', acknowledging he knew precisely what had happened.

And then that morning? Fuck! It was the first time Sans had willingly, consciously touched him while in his right mind since he figured out he was trapped.

Grillby briefly shut his eyes before looking away from his book to the wall, refusing to glance at the back of Sans' chair. He'd been having fun pushing the skeleton's buttons as he discovered them but hadn't expected any of that. It honestly skewed his entire timeline and he was still having difficulty figuring out what he wanted to do next, or what he could expect to happen next.

He knew Sans was probably playing him, at least he had been that morning, and knew it would happen again now that he'd given him a little more freedom after all of that. He hoped Sans abused the hell out of that knowledge.

But last night? 

Grillby shut his eyes again as he fought the shiver up his spine. That had been an obvious need for some relief, leveraging what he could to rile Grillby up. Punishing him for all the teasing and sexual tension he'd caused and then refusing to act on it. Possibly even trying to entice him back to the bedroom, something Grillby hadn't even considered until that moment...

Goddamnit!

He pressed his loose fist to his mouth as his thoughts wildly spiraled away from him. Sans had been so desperate... How badly had Sans wanted him to stay?! Why didn't he ask?! Why didn't he try to kiss him one more time?! To ask if he wanted him in his bed last night?! What, so he could have Sans make the first move?! Where the fuck did that get him?! Another night in an empty bed as he fruitlessly tried to satisfy himself alone. Again.

What would Sans have done to him if he'd gone back in? What would he have let Grillby to do him?

He silently bit down on his index finger, fighting to keep his breathing quiet as his heart pounded harshly in his chest. Their first morning together had been incredible but Sans had been far more gentle and tame than he'd expected. Not that he was complaining! Sans had still fucked him. And it had genuinely been some of the best sex of his life. But he'd been craving something harder, something with the edge of cruelty that only true desperation could bring out. He wanted Sans to use him. He wanted to see the same manic longing he had for him burning in Sans' gaze.

Short fantasies played-out vividly in his mind. Sans letting him, or maybe even making him suck his cock. Straddling his lap again as Sans viciously slapped him—his thighs, his ass, his face, he didn't fucking care. His hands squeezing around his throat, choking off blood and air and magic until he nearly passed-out. Or maybe even until he did pass-out, he realized he didn't care about that either. Sans furious and breathless and needy as he shoved his face into the bed and fucked him from behind, cumming inside him again and again until he was satisfied...

Oh my God...

If he only knew why it had taken him so long to join him downstairs that morning was because Sans had unwittingly given him far too much to work with and he could not resist temptation. And, using the boxers Sans had worn the night before he… Well. He got off. Several times. Wrapping them loosely around his dick and vividly fantasizing about him. He'd been pretty ashamed of himself. At first. But once he committed he found the whole act and idea so erotic he quickly got over it. And even looking back he felt a pleasant shiver crawl up his spine and zero shame.

He'd been certain he'd been caught when he saw Sans standing by the bookcase in the short hall outside their rooms, especially after the awkward look Sans had given him, like he'd also been caught in the act. Considering how hard he came for the third and final finish and how he wasn't entirely confident in his ability to silence himself, he wouldn't have been surprised in the least to know that Sans had overheard him.

He was honestly surprised he hadn't considered it before then, in a sense wrapping Sans around his cock and fucking him until he got the chance to do it in real life. An idea that had been plaguing him for years by that point as he could never pin down what the skeleton's preference was. It seemed like he'd been willing to both fuck and be fucked, but he couldn't be sure without asking him and that was too fucking weird for a friend who'd shown no romantic or sexual interest to just ask. He was willing to keep getting fucked by Sans if it made him happy because it certainly made him happy. But it was a tantalizing idea at the same time. He began to wonder what that would be like... If Sans liked soft and gentle love-making or if he wanted to be controlled and made to beg and scream. Or if he could be convinced to do both...

He was pulled from his thoughts by the vibration of one of the phones in his pockets. He tasted blood on his tongue and was a little concerned that he'd broke the skin over his knuckle without noticing it. But he wasn't remotely surprised at how hard he was, something the gentle buzzing against his thigh was not helping. He felt his fire cool drastically in realization that it was the one in his right pocket. Sans' phone. Without turning he looked at the armchair Sans was in. There was no music or sound beyond the occasionally popping fire across the room to cover the noise. The vibration alone sounded like an alarm blaring through the living room.

Sans cautiously peered with one socket around the wing of the chair, staring intently at the other man. He very slowly dropped his feet back to the floor and braced his hands on the arm of the chair after he closed his book and set it aside. Grillby pretended not to see him from the edge of his sight and pretended not to notice the phone insistently vibrating in his pocket, looking back down at his still-open book. He kept as still as he could, his breathing calm and even when the vibrating stopped.

Until the distinct 'ping' and quick 'chirp' of a voicemail notification sounded. One unique to Sans' ancient phone model. 

They both bolted at the same time. Grillby rushed for the stairs, tripping on the table by the couch as Sans sprinted toward him. Struggling to quickly recover, Grillby got to his hands and knees and gave a running start as he stood. Sans surprised him with his speed, but desperation will do that to even the worst runners. He tackled Grillby, arms wrapped around his waist and they hit the floor, both of them grunting as the impact knocked most of the air out of their lungs.

Grillby twisted, shoving at Sans' astonishingly tight grip until he managed, with difficulty, to roll to his back. He pulled up his leg, driving his foot against Sans' hip to get him off. Sans somehow held him even tighter, glaring furiously up at him with his teeth bared. When Grillby kept pushing with his leg and could tell he was getting nowhere, he grimaced, hesitating before he pushed one hand against Sans' forehead and the other on his shoulder. Sans risked letting him go and snatched his wrists, shocking a gasp out of the bar-owner as he violently pinned them by his face.

Grillby stared blankly up at him for a few frantic heartbeats, Sans practically growling down at him as rage radiated from his shaking body. Before he could remember what they'd been fighting about, Sans dove in and kissed him, driving coherent thought from his mind. Even as he struggled to think, Sans deepened their kiss, his sharp teeth catching harshly on his bottom lip. Sans briefly winced at the burn of Grillby's blood on his tongue but didn't stop, grinding his hips down and pulling a shocked moan from the other man.

When Grillby started to relax, kissing him back and even arched his hips up to meet Sans, Sans began to loosen the vicious grip on his wrists. Very slowly, he positioned Grillby's hands over his head on the carpet. He pulled away to attempt catching his breath, looking down at the dazed elemental beneath him. 

Before Grillby could even focus his vision again, Sans nudged his head to the side, brushing his face gently against his jaw to expose his neck. He licked the scar that curved around his throat up from his collar bone to just under his ear. It earned him a shuddering gasp, Grillby's arms flexed under his grip that he tightened again to keep him in place. Not relenting, Sans bit down at the almost-always sensitive spot on most people over his pulse. He bit down harder when Grillby moaned, drawing another rough sound through his teeth when he broke his skin again.

Molten blood burned his mouth and he jerked back without thinking, forgetting what would happen. He kept grinding his hips to keep him distracted while he recovered before kissing him again, harder this time.

Grillby started to regain some sense, fighting with himself to pull his hands free, fighting against the urge to keep arching his hips into Sans' clear erection pressed over his own. But that realization alone, that something about the fury-driven, purposely sexual act had Sans nearly as excited as he was, was enough to push sense from his mind for a few seconds more.

Leaning into what originally got Grillby totally side-tracked and what he knew Grillby had so-often pictured him doing to him, Sans pulled away just enough to snarl against his lips. "Fucking stay put," before he returned to their kiss, pushing hard enough down to pin his head against the floor. When Grillby tried to twist his hips sideways, Sans shook his skull angrily and switched to holding both of his wrists in place then used his now free left hand to pin his hip down, slamming his palm against the sensitive spot just above his belt.

"Mmmh!" Grillby moaned into him and Sans chuckled smugly, biting the other side of his throat with a little more caution.

Sans distantly asked himself how far he'd be willing to go to keep Grillby distracted and pliable if it meant he could get his phone back to get a message to anybody that he needed help. Well… he'd done more humiliating things for less reward, so he reasoned he'd go as far as he needed to. Barely lifting his body from Grillby's, he started to slide his fingers under his belt buckle. He brushed hot skin just under his waistband and Grillby gasped, sighing Sans' name as his spine slightly arched and his knees shifted further apart. The skeleton forgot for a second what he'd been doing and why, pausing with his sockets closed.

With little warning, Grillby arched his hips sharply and expertly rolled on top of Sans. He broke the grasp on his wrists and quickly grabbed Sans' wrists instead.

They stared at each other, Sans still shocked at the sudden position change and realizing he didn't have the upper-hand anymore. He had no clue how Grillby had done that so swiftly, especially as Grillby was breathing so much harder than he was. Sans had missed Grillby carefully bending his knees and positioning his feet near Sans' thighs, leading him to believe he was just spreading his legs for better movement.

"N-nice try," Grillby panted harshly with a crooked smile. "Fun though, won't lie," he added with a winded laugh. He quickly brushed his tongue along the still-bleeding bite on his bottom lip. "Haven't met anyone brave enough to make me bleed in a long time."

"Fuck you!" Sans yelled at him, struggling to move under the larger, heavier man. He growled in outrage when Grillby brought his wrists together over his chest and easily held them with one hand, his fingers nearly meeting around them. Grillby's jaw flexed in concentration, tightening his grip as he fished Sans' phone from his jeans and safely slid it across the lush carpet a dozen feet away. 

Sans stopped fighting for a second, watching his first chance to contact someone, anyone literally slip away from him. While he was distracted, Grillby securely wrapped his arms around Sans' middle and easily rose to his knees, holding him tight when Sans started to violently squirm.

"Fuck OFF!" Sans screamed, thrashing. 

Grillby stood, slipping one arm to hold Sans' thighs in place near his chest and and the other to pin him to his own shoulder across his lower back.

With a shout of frustration, Sans shoved at his head and back hard. The hand on his back slipped from his rush to get away and he started breathing faster in panic as Grillby started up the stairs.

SHIT!

"NO! NO!" Sans reached fruitlessly for the banister to his right, on the far side of Grillby. "NNOO!" He clawed at the wall with his left hand, his right still shoving hard on Grillby's head. He tried kicking his legs and snarled when Grillby just tightened his grip and effectively immobilized him.

"FUCKING-! LET ME GO!" Sans screamed, desperation lacing his terrified tone. He caught the door frame of the bedroom, gripping it with both hands until his fingers started to go numb. He gave a short cry when Grillby took another step into the room and it slipped from his grasp. His weakened hands dragged down the door without finding anything to grab, too high to reach the door lock or knob. He looked back, sockets wide and pupils gone as he saw the bed he'd been trapped to and had only recently escaped.

"NO! DON'T!" He yelled, fighting again in vain because he didn't know what else to do. He frantically tried to teleport, to shock Grillby, to summon an attack, anything! He reached desperately for the magic in his soul and screamed in startled pain as scarlet lightning arced weakly through his fingers only for the collar to shock the hell out of him as it sparked against his throat, canceling out his brief taste of magic.

Still gripping him tight enough to restrict his frantic breathing, Grillby released his thighs and reached for the chain still attached to the bed.

"SHIT! FFFUCK! GRILLBY, STOP!" Sans pleaded with wild panic. He slapped at Grillby's hand as he deftly twisted the collar for the side the chain had been locked to and just got freed from that morning.

This time truly without warning, Grillby threw him to the bed on his back. A different flavor of panic flooded Sans' veins, freezing him in place as he stared up at Grillby's nearly flat expression from where he loomed over him at the edge of the bed, the end of the chain firmly gripped in his fist. He felt tears well in his sockets as things he'd tried so hard to forget flashed through his mind. He was certain he recognized that look and was too terrified to move in case he was right.

"D-don't, ple-please," Sans whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry… I-I'll do whatever you want, j-just please…" he softly begged, tears finally spilling free. He tried to crawl backward, his hands slipped against the sheets and he fell on his back once more, too panicked to try again.

He was terrified he'd found Grillby's breaking point. He deeply regretted teasing Grillby the night before and just now downstairs. While Grillby hadn't been aggressive about it, he had made it obvious he wanted more physically with Sans. And right then Sans was vulnerable and practically helpless without his magic.

Grillby blinked, realizing what Sans thought was about to happen. His stomach turned violently, bitter bile rose in his throat. He consciously made the effort to relax, quickly locking the chain to Sans' collar. His heart broke at the way Sans' sockets shut tight, he harshly bit his lips and began to tremble when he leaned close to ensure the lock had closed correctly.

Grillby knelt at the side of the bed, he held back from touching Sans in an attempt at comfort. "You won't believe me, but I will never do that to you." he gently told him.

Sans opened his sockets with a downright lethal glare, it made Grillby lean away, hands raised to his shoulders passively. "Fuck you." Sans spat with venom that stung.

Quietly, Grillby stood and left, locking the door behind him.

*

Grillby knocked softly at Sans' door hours later before he unlocked and opened it. The chain trailed across the bed all the way to the footboard, it was pulled tight and he didn't see Sans. Heart in his throat, Grillby rushed in to see Sans sitting with his back against the footboard, legs criss-crossed and a book open on his lap. The collar was just barely lifted off his shoulders.

"Oh," Grillby shut his eyes with a sigh of relief. He'd felt too ashamed to check him on the camera and for a horrifying second thought Sans had… Well, he'd half-expected to see a pile of dust at the end of the bed.

Sans cut his sockets up at him without speaking.

"Uh, um, are you hungry? Do you need anything?"

Sans grabbed the collar and shook it angrily, glaring fully up at him now.

"Other than that." Grillby sighed deeply.

Sans turned his glare to the floor. Without looking back he nodded.

"Anything specific?"

Sans shrugged, picking up his book again.

"How hungry are you?"

Sans held out his hand and shook it side to side, still not looking up.

"I'll be back in a bit."

Sans listened to him walk away. He turned, looking around the edge of the footboard when he heard the creak of the stairs but not the door closing or locking. The door had been left wide open. After a few silent minutes of thought, trying to understand the reasoning behind locking him back to the bed but leaving the door open, music began to softly play downstairs.

Shocked for the second time in five minutes, Sans recognized the song playing. It was one of the ones he'd worn the record down badly enough to be replaced twice on Grillby's jukebox. He played it so much he'd ruined it for every other regular at the bar. He'd had several bottles thrown at him when he threatened jokingly to sing it one night when his band was performing.

His shock deepened as he heard the lyrics in an entirely new light.

He turned again, resting his back against the footboard again, this time unable to even pretend he was reading.

*

Sans was still sitting against the footboard when Grillby returned with two bowls of egg fried rice, he held a pair of chopsticks alongside the bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. Sans eyed him suspiciously as he held out the bowl with a spoon for him.

"What? I know you're too impatient for chopsticks." Grillby told him with a lopsided smile, lightly gesturing with the bowl toward him again. Sans took it and Grillby asked, "Can I eat in here with you?" 

That's why you brought your own bowl, isn't it? Sans thought as he shrugged dismissively, trying a bite of the still-steaming rice.

"I'm assuming that's a yes," Grillby said with a smile in voice. Sans glanced sideways at him as he sat just out of his reach. They ate in silence, Grillby set his bowl aside and waited for Sans to finish eating. "Do you want more? There's some leftover."

Sans shook his skull and started to set his bowl beside him when Grillby stretched his arm out to take it instead. Sans hesitated, sockets narrowing as he handed it over, expecting Grillby to touch his hand or wrist or something like that. He relaxed slightly when he didn't.

"About earlier," Grillby began.

Sans glared darkly at him, realizing with anger why Grillby had sat out of reach and taken his bowl and spoon.

Grillby chuckled softly, a little bit bitter. "Yeah, that's why I took the bowl." he answered the unasked question, which only made Sans angrier.

You don't know me, you bastard.

"I…" Grillby sighed. "I didn't mean to scare you like that." he quietly told him, not looking at Sans as he spoke. "I didn't expect that to scare you. Piss you off? Yeah, definitely." he softly scoffed with little humor. "I was ready for that. I was ready for you to scream at me and fight me, but not…"

Sans watched him as he talked, paying close attention to his body language and the way his expression shifted.

"I uh," Grillby cleared his throat, closing his eyes. "I've been through that, more times than I could ever count. I won't do that to anyone else." He sighed, nervously biting his cheek before he opened his eyes and said without looking at Sans. "For what it's worth to you, I'm genuinely sorry I did that. That I made you think I was g-going to do that."

Sans' skull tilted, his sockets narrowing as he unconsciously tried to get a karmic read on his soul. For a split-second it came through, his vision flickering with over-saturated color as he saw his soul within his chest. It faded faster than he could process he'd been trying to do it, leaving a quick swirl of dizziness in its wake.

He jolted in shock when he was practically slapped in the face with the truth of his words. All of them. He didn't know why it physically stung. Was it because it hurt Grillby so much to admit? But he was left with the fact that Grillby meant what he said. And he didn't know what to do about it.

"Is… it safe to get closer?" Grillby asked with an apprehensive smile.

Sans recovered enough from his shock to look sharply at the other man.

Grillby held up a key, instantly getting Sans' full attention and erasing the fury from his face. "It's the one for the chain. It won't work on the collar." He explained, offering it to him. "It would either get stuck or break and then you'd be stuck to the chain, too. I only have one key each."

Sans stared at his outstretched hand suspiciously.

"Or you know, until I could trust you long enough to go to town and get a bolt-cutter. But you'd have to skip showering and use a bucket until then."

Sans frowned angrily at him, starting to reach for the key before hesitating with a short growl. Frustrated he was yet again backed into another corner and needed to take his gesture of good-will to earn back the small fraction of freedom he got to taste earlier. It felt like the power balance had shifted even further in Grillby's favor, worse than it had been before that morning.

Grillby patiently waited for Sans to decide and gave him a weak smile when Sans snatched the key from him.

The skeleton blindly felt for the chain and the padlock connecting it to his inescapable collar. He glared at Grillby when he started to move closer to help and the other man stopped, holding his hands up.

The lock came open and Sans gave a short sigh of relief, throwing the chain away from him. He still held the key and he debated the benefit of swallowing it before deciding against it, not wanting to deal with the aftermath of that choice. He threw it at Grillby who surprisingly caught it.

"Other than the obvious," Grillby began, putting the key in his pocket before reaching to gather the bowls. "Do you need anything else tonight?"

Sans half-expected the question he'd already grown accustomed to, to follow. It brought a confusing tangle of emotions to life in his soul. He'd decline obviously, but the lingering desire from the night before was stubbornly still hiding too deep in his chest to pull out.

Before he shook his head, Grillby added, "A change of clothes? Water?"

Sans considered it a moment before he nodded. He did want a shower before bed, if for no other reason than to have some perceived privacy and a few moments alone to ignore the confusing excitement when he tried to wrestle with Grillby for his own phone. It hadn't lasted long considering Grillby had dragged him, literally, kicking and screaming back to the bedroom. But it was long enough for him to notice.

And he was surprisingly thirsty.

"Yeah? Both?"

Sans nodded again.

"I'll get you some clothes first, be right back." Grillby told him, standing awkwardly without using his hands. The act made Sans frown at him, it was a weird choice. "Oh, uh," Grillby chuckled. "You can actually get your own water if you want." 

Sans looked up at him before it dawned on him that Grillby was giving him free rein through the house again.

"There's bottled water and other drinks in the bottom of the pantry, help yourself. Or tap water if you'd rather. But it does taste a little like eggs from the springs. I haven't found a filter that gets rid of it completely."

Sans got up before Grillby could turn and gestured for the bowls. "Knock yourself out," Grillby told him, handing them over with a shrug.

Sans rushed down the stairs, barely remembering to listen as Grillby's door opened and then shut. He dropped the dishes in the sink and stood in front of it for a few breaths to gather his thoughts. He couldn't make it obvious he was searching for anything, but he couldn't not search for something!  He raked his gaze over the kitchen, looking for anything sturdy enough to leverage through the lock on his collar to break it open. Or possibly something to wedge in the paper-thin gap where the collar closed or the hinge at the back. He hoped that all it would take would be splitting apart the runes that he felt in the metal to be able to at least teleport again. That's all he needed! Just a split-second of that one ability and he'd be free!

He went for the drawer that he'd seen Grillby put his knives and other large metal utensils in. He held back a shout of frustration when it didn't budge. He opened the cabinet beneath it and blindly felt for the track on the bottom of the drawer, feeling nothing he bent over to look and cussed loudly in his mind. It was covered with another board, completely contained. He slid his fingers around the edge of the board and found nothing to catch or an edge to pull on.

He moved on, trying the cabinet with the pots and pans. It was locked somehow, too. And made of sturdy enough wood that it didn't budge when he tugged on it either.

He wracked his brain. How the fuck did Grillby open all these fucking cabinets and drawers during the day? How did he not notice they weren't just pulled open?

He refocused, gaze landing on the stove-top. The cast-iron grates might be an option. At least they would be if it wasn't one single heavy piece. He didn't even know that was something people did or a model that was made. It was a small stove though, only three burners placed close together in a triangle pattern. Before he got distracted by the unusual set up, he refocused again.

Running out of options, he opened the oven, also smaller than average. He touched the cold racks and sighed in defeat. They were too thin to be useful in breaking the collar and too thick to wedge into the lock either, even if he managed to break one of the wires free before Grillby figured out what was happening. He only briefly glanced at the toaster oven on the far counter, no way it would be remotely helpful. 

He sighed, looking back to the sink and scoffed with dark mirth. He tipped his skull back and sighed again. 

The fucking spoon was made of bamboo. 

Because of course it was.

He didn't bother attempting breaking the lock with it or wedging it through the collar, it'd only snap. Then Grillby would notice and he'd probably get stuck chained to the bed again. In this situation it was a surety that Grillby kept meticulous track of utensils and dishes.

He gave the kitchen one final mournful look, tapping his knuckles on the cold stone countertop a few times.

Just to feel like he'd checked everywhere possible, he looked in the older model fridge and freezer. He saw similarly flimsy racks as the ones in the oven, leftover fried rice in plastic take-out containers, eggs, milk, a loaf of homemade bread wrapped in cellophane, cheese, butter, a few condiments… things you'd find in nearly every other fridge. The freezer was similarly disappointing, just frozen chicken and pre-chopped vegetables. 

He couldn't help giving a longing glance at the tub of ice-cream in the back. He scoffed at himself. He did have a bad habit of over-doing it on the sweets when he was stressed. Or drunk.

God, I'd kill for a drink right now…

Or maybe even blow Grillby for one.

He didn't even pause to think about his relative lack of resistance to the idea that just flashed through his mind.

He turned to the huge double-door pantry and closed the freezer. Not expecting anything different but unable to stop himself from looking, he looked morosely over the shelves. He stood on the bottom shelf and checked the top shelf carefully. He didn't think he could fashion anything out of a can of fucking tomatoes or beans, not in any kind of time frame that mattered anyway, so he dropped back to the floor.

Even if he used one to bash in Grillby's skull and managed to succeed, what then? (Though just the idea of hurting anyone that severely on purpose sent a chill down his spine. Even if it was someone who kidnapped him. He dealt with that shit enough for work, he didn't need more.) With the impossible locks on everything, who was to say he could even find his or Grillby's phone? He probably had them locked down tight after the stunt earlier that day since he felt comfortable enough to let Sans wander unwatched. Well… he remembered the camera above the pantry doorway. Comfortable enough to let him wander, anyway.

If he didn't find a phone and managed to get outside—if Grillby's windows were even breakable—where would he go? Which direction was SnowdIn? Every day he sat in front of the window in the living room he searched the sky above the treetops for any sign of smoke or civilization and saw nothing. The trees crowded in close to the cabin, making it difficult to spot from the forest, which would also make it difficult to see anything in the distance.

If he couldn't get the collar off or contact anyone he was royally fucked if he went the wrong direction.The constant cloud cover over SnowdIn that stretched from the ruins to WaterFall made it basically impossible to use the markings of the mountain above to navigate. It was tricky to learn the markings in WaterFall because of the dark, but it was possible. Not to mention the often unpredictable weather changes. The magic nature of the Underground made it difficult to know the forecast in SnowdIn more than a few hours in advance, at best eighty percent of the time.

And the Underground was massive. His brother had no idea where to start searching. As determined as Papyrus would be to find him, even he lacked the resources to launch a full-scale man-hunt across the entire Underground. Sans could be fucking anywhere. If he was even suspicious something was up. Grillby hadn't mentioned anything about his brother, even though he was positive it was Papyrus that left the voicemail on his phone earlier that day.

The idea that Grillby was probably impersonating him well-enough to convince his own fucking brother, and Captain of the Royal Guard, that he wasn't in some kind of distress or make him suspicious was deeply upsetting.

How well did Grillby know him?

He shook away that train of thought, he didn't really have the space in his brain to follow it. It didn't matter anyway. Grillby knew a lot about him and that was enough to mentally grapple with more than a dozen times a day anyway.

He looked down at his feet. The bottled water, sports drinks, and protein shakes were where Grillby said they'd be.

Because of course they were.

He grabbed two bottles of water, quickly chugging the first and tossing it in the trash and taking the other with him as he left the kitchen. He gave the fireplace and cast-iron stove on the far side of the living room a lingering glance but wasn't surprised to see there were no fireplace tools sitting nearby other than a small hand broom and plastic dustpan. Why would a guy immune to fire damage need anything to avoid getting burned?

He looked to the door across the dining room table from the kitchen doorway, one he hadn't bothered to inspect before because it obviously led to an interior room. Probably to a basement, now that he thought about it, and that was definitely the last place he wanted to be in the cabin.

Or maybe not? Maybe there was a window, or several near ground level that he could escape from?

He glanced at the staircase as he silently crossed the room and very carefully tried the knob. The brief hope he hadn't realized was blooming in his chest quickly died as he discovered it was locked. He sighed and let his hand drop as he walked away.

*

"Get lost?" Grillby coolly asked from his bedroom door, where he leaned against the frame with his ankle crossed over his foot and his hands in his pockets.

Sans gave a mocking shake of the water bottle along with a short sneer, he cracked open the lid and took a drink as he crossed into his room.

"Not even a little curious?" Grillby asked, making Sans stop. "I'm sure it's killing you."

Sans cast an expectant look over his shoulder at him.

"The cabinets," Grillby stated with a knowing smile. Because he knew exactly how Sans' mind worked. "The knife drawer." 

He didn't need to watch the camera in the kitchen to know what he was doing. But he did anyway, enjoying seeing Sans' mind work over-time as he quickly, quietly searched every inch of the kitchen. He'd been impressed when Sans had scrutinized the nearly empty cabinet under the knife and cooking utensil drawer. He had prepared for it just in case considering Sans' intelligence, but hadn't been completely certain he would try it. He'd been grateful he had time to make everything perfect in the cabin before he even considered following-through.

Sans shook his skull, shutting the door behind him.

Grillby licked his bottom lip with a smirk as he pushed away from his doorframe with his shoulder. He shut his own door and smiled as he said to himself, "Yes you are."

Chapter Text

(Day Nine)

Sans was curious about how Grillby had managed to lock various places in his kitchen without a visible key. He never noticed a magnet, or a fob like they used at The Lab for top-secret shit. He suspected a fob because the ones he used to have would automatically unlock whatever you needed just by standing in front of it for five seconds. Most people had limited access of course, but the idea was handy. It would make sense for Grillby to have something in his pocket that he didn't need to show Sans every time he wanted to get something.

He snickered a little to himself as he realized he had something in his pocket he could use when he wanted something from Grillby, too.

The humor in him quickly died. He was accustomed to his own dark humor, but it usually made him feel at least slightly better, but not that time.

He sat on the counter near the sink, what had become his usual place to wait while Grillby cooked when he was still chained to the bastard's arm. His relatively thin trust in Grillby had been almost restored after the accidental soul-check he managed the day before, so he wasn't uncomfortable sitting so close. He wasn't trying to be closer to Grillby, but he didn't want to wait anywhere else either.

He couldn't deny he enjoyed it. He got a nice view out the kitchen window, seeing the snow fall through the colored glass while he thought hard about how he could get through the damn thing. He was betting it was the best option for escape when he had the opportunity. Breaking the glass and ripping at the frame to get the lock inside since the diamond-shaped window was too narrow for him to slip through, unless he lost at least twenty pounds. 

The edges of the diamond though, they were probably close enough to the edge of the door to reach the lock internally. There were only about six inches between the widest part of the window and the edge of the door. That only left about two to three inches for the locking bars to sit in the middle of the space.

He was worried about his HP though, with his magic so tightly contained he didn't think he'd be able to do it unscathed considering he would need to act fast if he got the chance. Probably too fast to wrap his fist in a towel to avoid hurting himself too badly with the glass and soldered metal that held it in place.

His pupils glanced at Grillby without turning his skull to make it obvious when he reached for the knife drawer. The other man smiled indulgently over his shoulder, stepping aside to let Sans watch as he ran his fingers down the center of the drawer. Indigo sparks, just barely visible, trailed behind his touch and with the softest 'click' that could hardly be heard over the quiet whisper of the gas stove, he was able to pull it open.

Sans stared openly at him in furious shock. This smug mother-fucker…

Grillby turned to hide his proud smile, biting his lips to try containing it as he grabbed the knife he needed but left the drawer open.

Sensing a trap or a trick of some kind, Sans waited on the counter. After a moment while Grillby diced an onion, Grillby told him without turning. "The knives are, unfortunately, cheap."

When Sans didn't move or speak, Grillby took a pairing knife and offered it handle-first to Sans. With much hesitation, Sans took it and Grillby turned, stepping closer.

Sans nervously looked him up and down, unsure what was about to happen.

Grillby held out his left arm, forearm facing up. "Ah, wait, sorry. You're a lefty, here." He corrected himself and held out his right arm instead, meaning Sans could more easily use the knife with his dominant hand at the expense of injuring his own dominant arm. Sans stared back at him, bewildered.

Without speaking, Grillby tilted his head to the left, exposing his throat and the long white scar that trailed down the taut muscle. He watched Sans through half-open eyes. Silently offering another, potentially lethal, option. The skeleton swallowed anxiously as he stared back at him.

Sans quietly cleared his throat and looked down at Grillby's arm. He licked his teeth, uncertain as he carefully grabbed the other man's wrist. He could feel his pulse under his fingers. Slow and steady. He had zero fear of the situation.

A thrill Sans didn't care to explore the reason behind shot through his veins. He glanced once at Grillby before he pressed the sharp blade against his flaming skin near an old, thin scar and intersected it as he pushed it hard enough to make a small dent. Grillby's hand clenched into a fist, his face turning away fully with a shaking breath as Sans slowly dragged it down his arm toward his wrist. Without thinking Sans quickly flicked his hand, finishing off the cut with flourish and pulling a sharp wince from Grillby.

The elemental's pulse fluttered wildly under Sans' fingers as he stared back at him with a silent gulp.

Grillby blinked rapidly, struggling to focus as his unclenched his fist. He noticed Sans had a fierce grip on his wrist still as he slowly flexed his fingers. It was abruptly released after he took another breath and looked back at Sans with a winded chuckle. It broke his focus again as he saw the pale pink dusting the other man's cheekbones before his pupils darted down to Grillby's arm. Grillby looked down as well.

"See?" he gestured to the sparking cobalt blood that ran slowly like molasses in a line down his forearm. Then he pointed to the knife still in Sans' hand. Sans looked at it and was hardly surprised the blade side had turned black, the previously sharp edge half-melted unevenly. 

Grillby took the ruined knife from his hand and asked, "Trust me not to hurt you?"

Sans scoffed and Grillby lightly shrugged, "Fair," he said agreeably. "but I couldn't manage it with this thing anyway." As example he harshly dragged the blunt metal down his opposite arm without breaking eye-contact with Sans. It left nothing behind but a fast-fading blue line from the pressure, drawing no blood.

Sans suspiciously narrowed his sockets, waiting.

His tone softened to almost pillow-talk level. "I was going to show you how useless these things are. Against me, or to break that lock." Grillby explained, nodding to the collar around Sans' throat. He fought the urge to spin the blade handle between his agile fingers. An act that was almost second-nature from his past. Sometimes to intimidate. Usually to arouse. It depended on the situation. More recently since he moved to SnowdIn, it was to show-off in the kitchen when he was bored.

Sans frowned skeptically.

"What have you got to lose? If I break the lock, you're free. If I don't, nothing changes."

Sans started to reach for the knife to do it himself and Grillby gently pulled it away from his grasp. He put his free hand on the counter near Sans' hip with a sultry smile, and a voice to match as he whispered. "I'm stronger than you right now. Either the lock or the knife will break if you let me do it. If you try, you'll either hurt yourself or just get pissed."

He was lying. Partially. Forgetting his previous promise to never lie to him. But this was a small lie, it wasn't that big of a deal. Sans could hurt himself but the knives were flimsy enough for Sans to manage an attempt. But now that the idea had taken root in his brain, he couldn't resist the opportunity to keep toying with the skeleton. Hoping for another chance to push him closer to the edge of his restraint.

Sans gulped again, leaning a few centimeters back when Grillby had leaned closer. He was now standing between Sans' thighs, his knees against the cabinet underneath the counter. Trying to control his breathing, Sans very slowly lifted his chin, granting silent permission to go ahead.

Grillby gave him a smile that Sans would never admit did something not entirely unpleasant to his insides as they twisted in anticipation. Seductive and warm and mischievous. The elemental lifted his free hand and brushed his fingers softly against Sans' throat as he slowly turned the collar so the lock was facing him.

Sans' fingers gripped the counter by his knees, struggling to keep himself grounded when Grillby leaned even closer. Their torsos were nearly touching, only their loose shirts preventing Sans from fully feeling the heat of his body. Unconsciously, he slid his hips closer to Grillby, until his ass was on the very edge of the counter and his knees pressed hard against the counter near his hands. Not close enough for their crotches to touch, but they would've only needed a single thread of silk to measure the distance.

Sans shut his sockets, flinching slightly when he heard the soft scrape of metal on metal as the blade slid into the gap in the center of the lock.

"Ready for me?" Grillby purred, heart pounding as Sans bit his lips with a quick nod. "Wanna check?" he breathed.

For what felt like the millionth time in the span of several minutes, Sans swallowed, trying to parch his suddenly dry throat. He lifted a slightly shaking hand to his collar and blindly felt the useless blade threaded through the lock. He slowly dropped his hand, licking his bottom lip before giving another short nod.

Sockets still closed, he missed the look of longing Grillby gave him. His eyes stared at Sans' slightly parted mouth. He was close enough he could feel his quick, short breaths of anticipation against his lips. He could hardly stand it, clinging to restraint by his fingertips. It had hardly been a week, why did feel like years since he last touched Sans' bare body?

Grillby wrapped his fingers around the collar to hold it steady, only barely managing not to jerk Sans to him with it for a hard kiss. His fingers prickled unpleasantly, temperature dropping slightly where they made contact with the rune-carved steel. With a sudden twist of his wrist, the blade snapped at the handle, easily breaking. The sound of metal clattering on the floor made Sans' sockets snap open in shock.

Sans looked down—purposely ignoring how close they were or that Grillby still had his loose grip on his collar—reaching for his throat with both hands. Grillby pulled his hands away without stepping back before Sans' fingers frantically traced over the thick, sturdy, unscratched lock. He gave two testing tugs on the collar and slightly deflated in resignation when it didn't budge.

Grillby showed him the broken handle, holding his hand open with it balanced on his palm. Sans could see the thin strip of metal embedded inside, it only took up a tenth of the space in the flimsy plastic. A good knife would have had more metal than handle to keep it sturdy and last longer. Actually a good knife would be entirely metal with something only wrapped around the handle to keep it from hurting your fingers while you gripped it.

Too angry and flustered to stay near him any longer, Sans dropped to the floor. Grillby took a half-step back to give him space before Sans gently pushed him aside with the outside of his arm and brushed past him to go to the living room.

Alone, Grillby lightly closed his eyes and took several, slow, silent and deep breaths to compose himself.

"Holy fucking shit…" he silently mouthed the words to himself.

After several more steadying breaths, he bent to pick up the broken blade and tossed it and the handle in the trash. He returned to cooking lunch, sneaking a quick glance over his shoulder to the living room beyond the small breakfast bar. Sans was slouching in his preferred chair in front of the picture window, his right-hand fingers tapping rapidly on the chair arm and his face resting heavily on his left fist. Before Grillby turned again, he saw Sans start weakly chewing on his left index finger in thought, his sockets furrowing.

Grillby sharply turned back to the half-diced onion. He fought the shiver up his spine as he recognized their little knife exchange had effected Sans just as deeply as it effected him. 

*

Papyrus sat at the neatly organized desk in his office at the Royal Guard station in NewHome. He stared down at his phone laying face-up on his desk, the screen black. He rested his sharp cheekbone against his closed, gloved fist. The fingers of his right hand idly circled his thumb as his thoughts churned with worry.

He hadn't heard from Sans since the day before and that had only been a brief text. He'd been only texting his older brother for a little over a week now. He'd called him at least a dozen times between that Thursday morning when Sans had missed his first shift at his guard station and now the afternoon before. He usually didn't leave voicemails for Sans, they always went unopened and unheard. But he'd felt strangely compelled to leave one yesterday afternoon and hadn't received anything since. Not even a text to acknowledge the call.

This was the longest they'd gone without talking or seeing each other in… Papyrus' brow furrowed, his jaw shifted twice in thought as he continued to stare at his phone. Ever. They'd never gone this long without at least verbally or visually checking-in with each other over the decades. 

Well, other than a stretch of about three months when Sans had been too furious with him for not letting him die and then getting him admitted… But neither of them liked thinking about that, so it didn't count. And he eventually came around and they resumed talking daily until he was discharged.

His stomach turned with anxiety. This wasn't like Sans. He never ignored his phone calls. No matter how drunk or distracted or hungover or—according to Sans—even a few times while being intimate with someone else, breaking away to call him back since Papyrus so rarely called him directly unless there was a problem.

There was a knock at his slightly open office door. He looked up to see his first lieutenant standing in his doorway. Undyne was an imposing figure on her own, muscular and scarred, but her presence alone always radiated confidence and strength that outweighed ninety-eight percent of the Underground, including the rest of the Royal Guard. At that moment though Papyrus could tell something was off.

"Yes?" he questioned, his arm resting on his desk as he straightened up.

"Heard back from Al," she started.

He gestured for her to come in, she did, closing the door behind her.

"She hasn't heard from Sans in a while, even before last week. She tried texting him a few times and got nothing." She told him in a tone he rarely heard, soft and concerned.

"And the cameras?"

Undyne shook her head, glancing away from him.

Papyrus' furrowed brow deepened, quickly tapping his fingers on his desk. "She know where he was last on them?" 

"Yeah," Undyne answered with a sigh, knowing it wasn't going to help. "In SnowdIn. At his post near the ruins. He teleported somewhere after he was done with his shift."

He ran a hand down his face to refocus. After a moment he looked back at her. "Tell me honestly," he began, waiting for her to nod in encouragement before he continued. "Am I overthinking this?" he asked seriously.

Undyne released a heavy sigh, cheeks puffing as she looked away in thought. She crossed her arms and looked down with a shake of her head before looking back to Papyrus. "No, I don't think you are. Sans doesn't do this kind of thing."

"So, I wouldn't be insane to start questioning people, right?"

Undyne scoffed with a weak smile. "You're already insane half the time, what's a little more gonna do? Scare people?" She earned herself a crooked smirk and a tired laugh, not something many others could pull out of the all-too-serious Captain.

There were only two places Sans would teleport to directly from work. Home or Grillby's. Papyrus checked the clock on his wall. Eleven thirty-eight. Grillby's bar would still be open for another four hours at least, maybe longer. It depended on the crowd. But a Saturday night would be pretty packed until the early hours of the morning. A perfect time to go question the patrons while they were inebriated with a lower threshold for lying. Not that he needed them to tell the truth, he'd figure it out.

"You headed back to SnowdIn?" Undyne asked when Papyrus stood, putting his phone back in his coat. He nodded. "Want me to come with?"

Papyrus scoffed lightly at her offer. "Why? So you can freeze half-to-death before we even get to the bar?" Like most citizens of WaterFall, she was cold-blooded. And SnowdIn would be miserable for her without stopping home to get appropriately dressed first. And Papyrus had no time to wait for that.

"In case you want, you know," she shrugged with a short frown. "Moral support or somethin'."

Papyrus sighed, smile fading as he adjusted his coat. With a quick check of her aura he read she was pretty concerned. Probably for both of the skeletons. He softened slightly, another thing only she could consistently make him do, not even Sans could manage that. In fact, Sans usually did the opposite.

"Thank you," he told her sincerely. "But you should stay here. Isn't it your weekend with Alphys anyway?" he lightly teased.

She rolled her eye with a brief smile, shaking her head again. "What? Jealous, Captain?"

"Of her? I'm honestly surprised you haven't killed each other yet." He broadly smiled as he stepped closer. "Never," he quietly told her. "You visit her, you own me." he whispered with a smug wink, not checking his blinds were drawn before he quickly kissed her cheek. Something that made her blush dark green before she shoved him away with a laugh. "You dick! Get out of here already!"

He chuckled, unexpectedly pulling her close by her waist and kissing her again, this time on the lips. "Hold down the fort for me," he told her with a grin before he turned to leave.

"Hey!" Undyne called after him as he started down the center of the station where a few straggling guards were filling out paperwork at their computers. He glanced over his shoulder at her as he kept walking. "Keep me updated!"

He nodded, waving back at her as he continued to the front door.

*

(Day Ten)

Grillby had been nearly asleep when he heard the quiet ping and short vibration of his phone tucked into his pillow case. He blinked hard a few times to focus his vision and frowned when he saw it was nearly three am, who could possibly be texting him at this hour?

He fished his phone from his pillow case and sat up, cracking his neck on each side by nearly touching his temple to his shoulder before he unlocked it. The text was from his second assistant manager, Dora. A larger than average, curvy albino rabbit. They'd known each other for decades. She'd traveled with him from NewHome, endearingly stuck to him like glue. Saving someone's life will do that sometimes.

Dora: Boss?

Grillby: Yes?

Dora: Papyrus is here asking some questions

Grillby stared at his phone, seized with panic.

He never sent an update to Papyrus after his fight with Sans the day before. He'd been too consumed with guilt and shame at the way Sans had reacted at the end. His thoughts ground to a halt, a hand going to his mouth as he realized how royally he'd fucked up.

He shook off his panic, with an extreme effort, and forced himself to think. After two slow breaths he replied, taking an extremely risky dive into the deep end. Sticking with his own tried-and-true method for lying to get out of sticky situations, he hedged his words as close as possible to the truth.

Grillby: I knew he'd want Sans to call him back.

Dora: So hes with you?

Grillby: Yes.

Grillby: I hope he's not too worried.

Dora: Oh hes fucking LIVID

Grillby's face twisted in regret and frustration at his stupid, stupid mistake. His phone buzzed in his hands when Dora sent another text.

Dora: Any message you want me to pass on? He hasnt gotten to me yet but hes talking to EVERYONE. He started with the regulars. No way for me to slip out of it he knows me. Ina's out tonight so he cant question her too at least.

He sighed in relief at that. His daughter was terrible at lying and she was almost as protective of him as Dora was. He didn't want her getting any kind of rough grilling from Papyrus if she even thought he was being investigated for something, because she'd lie and it wouldn't end well.

Grillby: Just tell him I'm sorry Sans hasn't gotten back to him yet. 

Grillby: And I'm working on getting the stubborn ass back out again.

Dora: Got it

Dora: What do I tell him when he asks were you guys are? 

Dora: I know your not upstairs

Grillby: Sans is an adult who can take care of himself and there's a reason he hasn't told him where we are. But I'm working on it. He's Sans. We all know how he is.

Dora: Alright. But hes not gonna like hearing that

Grillby: I know

Dora: Update you after

Grillby: Okay

Grillby gave a shaking sigh, his gut wrenching with a sickening spike of adrenaline. He wasn't the only one who felt like the past week had stretched over an impossible amount of time.

He heard the short chirp of Sans' door opening. Another alert sounded from his propped-up tablet on his nightstand through the closed-circuit security app he had open. More curious than concerned—and desperate for a distraction—he slid out of bed and cracked his door to peek out when he heard the creak of the top two stairs. Sans glanced back at him, the extra blanket from the foot of his bed, a pillow and a book tucked under his left arm.

"Trouble sleeping?" Grillby asked, opening his door and standing on the threshold.

Sans looked down the stairs to the dark living room before he looked back at him with a nod, knowing he'd been caught in the act and couldn't lie about it.

"Go ahead, I'll be down in a few minutes."

Sans gave a sullen frown followed by a resigned sigh and nodded, heading down the stairs.

Grillby shut the door and narrowed his focus to just the next few minutes. He closed the case of his tablet and slid it into his top nightstand drawer. He had it set to only give notifications while unlocked, so he had no fear of Sans finding it and really suspecting anything. The undernet access was patchy this far from town anyway, so all he would find is the camera footage, nothing he wouldn't be expecting anyway.

He grabbed the same things as Sans, a pillow, blanket, and a book. He took another deep breath and jogged down the stairs.

Sans had taken the same chair he always did. Grillby assumed because he'd had a pretty embarrassing moment the other day when he fell asleep on the couch. He couldn't help smiling in spite of his still rising stress-levels. Some of the things Sans had said… If he only knew, he would've stopped talking to Grillby much sooner.

It had sounded like Sans was having fun, too. What he would've given to see what Sans had been dreaming about. Helpfully, the skeleton painted a fairly vivid picture with his mumbling, one-sided dialogue. He filled in a few blanks with his own imagination, but it mainly had to do with him bending Sans over a table…

Grillby settled on the couch, sitting against the corner with his legs drawn up beside his hips. He set the book on his lap, opened to a random page and set his silenced phone on top of it. He held the right side of the cover to hide the phone from Sans if, when, he looked back at him. He slipped into a semi-dissociation as he did his best to keep his breathing calm and even.

After what felt like an eternity with Grillby's stomach twisting tighter and tighter in anxiety, his phone screen lit up. Another text from Dora. He didn't think it was remotely possible for his panic to rise so high, so fast. But as he read the text preview his vision actually tunneled.

Dora: He asked for your number

Dora: I had to give it to him boss

Grillby was still as an unknown number flashed across his screen, silently ringing. He was out of time. If he didn't answer it he'd be fucked.

He looked at Sans, well, the back of Sans' chair. His stomach in his toes and his heart in his throat. "S-Sans?" his voice cracked, his stress obvious.

Sans glanced at him around the wing of the arm chair, his expression flat and expecting. He blinked a few times, expression changing as he recognized the quiet panic of the bar-owner. His eyes wide, the flames on his face noticeably paler than normal and whipping in anxious little spirals.

"Um, your… your brother's calling me."

Sans twisted in his chair, his face the personification of schadenfreude as he dramatically rested his chin on the back of his hand before covering his mocking silent gasp with his other hand.

"Sans, please." Grillby quietly pleaded.

Quickly Sans' expression hardened and he flipped him off, turning back to face the window. Shaking, Grillby took his phone and walked unsteadily to him. Desperation overtaking pride, he sank to his knees in front of him.

Sans quickly looked him up and down in surprise before he scoffed and settled comfortably back in the chair, watching him expectantly with his hands laced together over his stomach.

Grillby opened his mouth and Sans shook his skull, jaw set in resolute fury. Shutting him down before he could even beg him again for his help. He shouldn't have expected anything less honestly, but he wasn't ready to let Sans go. He was positive he'd never be.

The phone in Grillby's hands went dark before it immediately started to flash again. Grillby shut his eyes to keep from crying and tried to think. Before he could even start to form a plan, trying to figure out what he could give Sans to convince him to talk to Papyrus to get him off his back while also keeping Sans there with him, he felt a calloused hand softly slide under his chin.

His eyes opened in shock, looking up at Sans. The skeleton gave him a crooked smile, sockets raised in a parental kind of understanding. Much like an adult looking down a remorseful child. Knowing he was coming to Grillby's rescue, he held out his other hand for Grillby's phone.

After a second to process, Grillby hesitantly handed Sans the still flashing phone.

Sans winked, trailing his fingers all the way to the edge of Grillby's chin before he answered the phone.

"Yeah?" he asked flatly, skull tipping back against the chair as he put it on speaker.

"SANS?! WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

Sans briefly frowned. "Dunno, just hanging out with Grillby. Something wrong with that?"

"IS SOM–?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!"

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Do you have ANY idea how fucking worried I've been?!" Papyrus' voice suddenly lowered to a softer one than Grillby had ever heard from him.

Sans shut his sockets at his brother's change in tone. "Look uh, I'm sorry about that. Pretty sure my phone uh…" he glanced briefly at Grillby and for a moment lost his train of thought, he'd been hoping for some kind of hint for an excuse. Grillby was tightly gripping the arm of the chair, trembling silently as he stared up at Sans like a begging dog.

Feeling merciful, he held his hand out for Grillby. The other man instantly took it with both of his own, gripping tight enough to make Sans briefly grimace.

"I don't give a flying FUCK what happened to your phone! Obviously Grillby has one that works!"

Sans sighed, looking up at the ceiling. Absently, his thumb stroked over Grillby's fingers and the elemental's grip lessened with a shaking sigh of relief. He stopped immediately once he realized what he'd done. "Yeah… I know. It's been uh… chaotic, to be honest."

Papyrus heaved a deep sigh. "All right. I'm… I'm glad to hear your voice again."

Sans tightly shut his sockets, pulling his hand free of Grillby's and pressing harshly against his forehead with his clenched fist to keep himself composed. "Don't get sappy on me, bro." he managed in a normal voice, with a light chuckle to follow. He pulled his feet down from the window sill and leaned forward with several silent, slow breaths.

"Whatever. Don't do that again. Let me know when you're coming home."

"Yeah, got it." Sans curtly replied.

Papyrus hung up and Sans weakly tossed Grillby's phone in his direction before he pressed his face into his palms for several seconds. Grillby watched him closely as he dragged his hands down his face with a long, weary sigh.

"You uh," Sans cleared his throat, shaking his skull before he looked down at Grillby. "You got any whiskey here?"

Grillby nodded, "Ye-yeah, you want a mixer or–?"

"Just bring the bottle."

Chapter Text

(Day Ten)

Grillby told Sans where to find the liquor—surprisingly unlocked under the large stand of the record player—while he went upstairs to hide his phone. Something he suddenly had no desire to pretend he wasn't doing.

Grillby had returned and asked if Sans wanted to listen to any music. Sans had shrugged in reply, cracking open the wax seal of the whiskey and Grillby had briefly worried he'd returned to the silent treatment.

"Uh, are records all you have?"

Grillby held back a sigh of relief. "I have a CD player and an MP3 player, I just haven't been in the mood for them."

Sans chuckled, pouring them both a shot. "Lemme see the MP3 player." 

Grillby retrieved it from another small cabinet in the record stand, along with its own charging station and speaker combo.

"Wireless?" Sans questioned.

Grillby shook his head.

"Then I'm switchin' seats," he said, standing and moving to the other end of the couch where Grillby had set the speaker on the end table and was currently trying to wrestle with the cord.

"Used to be wireless, then it stopped connecting to the player. I just switched back to records and CD's. Still have some cassettes around here somewhere, too..." Grillby absently replied, too drained to think twice about what he said to Sans.

"You deal with that, I'll find something to listen to."

Grillby nodded, untangling the cord until Sans held a shot glass in his line of sight. He glanced at Sans who held his own glass and took it from him before they both poured them back.

"Fuckin' a," Sans coughed with a harsh laugh. "Haven't gone this long without a drink since I started drinking." he confessed, setting the glass on the coffee table and scrolling through the songs on the MP3 player. He had to squint to read the tiny screen. 

He raised his face with a mixed expression. "That's not right, is it?" He asked Grillby with a surprisingly warm smile. "What was that? S… seven months?"

"Yeah, a-about that long." Grillby agreed though knew the exact amount of time Sans had stopped drinking at the bar and in general nearly a decade ago. Eight months and six days. He hadn't intentionally been keeping track at the time, but after the fact he'd curiously did the math and it embedded itself somewhere deep in his brain. The longest stretch he'd gone without seeing Sans since they met. And the longest eight months of his fucking life.

Grillby was slowly relaxing now that Sans was finally talking again. "When'd you start?" he playfully asked.

Sans grimaced with a short wince as he shut a socket in thought, "Uh… about ten? Eleven maybe?" he replied.

Grillby kept his surprise to himself, sensing it was a sore subject when Sans didn't elaborate on the admission.

Sans laughed quietly, pausing for a second and then starting up again as Grillby finally got the cord untangled and he plugged it in the wall and then into the speaker.

"You have a playlist of my favorite songs?" Sans asked as Grillby sat down a foot or two away from Sans. He turned the music player so Grillby could see the small screen, leaning in beside him.

Grillby's eyes were wide, his mouth a thin awkward line. "Uh, I–"

"It literally says 'Sans' Favorites'," Sans interrupted him with another laugh.

"W-well, yeah. I do, okay?"

"You fuckin' weirdo," Sans teased with a surprising amount of good nature. He glanced back and gave Grillby a wink as he put the player in its spot and started it. "Let's see how much you paid attention," he added.

"Um, c-cigarettes?" Grillby asked, trying to stand.

Sans lightly grabbed his wrist and looked up at him. "Embarrassed? Really? Now?"

Grillby looked away. "Yes," he answered curtly. 

"Alright, a cigarette does sound nice." Sans relented with a chuckle, letting go of his wrist.

Grillby searched through the laundry room just next to the front door for the carton of cigarettes he kept. He sighed, there was only one pack left in the box. He and Sans would get through them easily in a night, depending on how long Sans wanted to keep going. Because he was more than eager to relax in his own home with the skeleton for as long as he would allow.

He opened the small foil-lined pack and took two cigarettes out, closing the pack again as he returned to Sans. The skeleton smiled in gratitude, taking the one he was offered as Grillby sat down. He turned on the couch, about to jokingly ask Grillby to 'light him up'.

Sans watched as Grillby quickly lit his own, putting it between his lips and pressing softly against the back of his hand to just barely hit his third layer of skin, where the actual fire was. He closed his eyes and breathed deep before he slowly sighed and handed it to Sans. He glanced at Sans through a dim haze of smoke when he didn't take it and caught him staring.

After a blink, Sans took the cigarette and used it to light his own. He handed it back before curiously asking, "How d'you do that?"

Grillby didn't pretend to not know what Sans meant and held his palm out for him while he took another deep drag. He'd missed smoking after limiting himself to just two a day to stretch them out.

After another sigh where Sans slid closer, he held his cigarette in his teeth and turned over his hand twice, back and forth. "Three layers of skin like most everyone else," he began. "Top layer is fairly normal." He added, brushing his hand up his forearm and causing the flickering magic to swirl in its wake. "The 'flames' are mostly heat and just a little magic escaping."

"Is that why I can actually grab you like you have hair or somethin'?"

Grillby briefly closed his eyes remembering what it felt like to have Sans brush his fingers through the denser flames near his head. Followed quickly by what it felt like to have him jerk them tight like he did in the bar. He needed him to do that again…

He nodded, quickly recovering.

"Second layer is flipped from what everyone else has." He cleared his throat. "It's the insulating tissue first, veins and blood for the third. Keeps more heat in since my blood is basically molten rock and if it were any closer to the surface, supposedly, I'd be trapped somewhere like HotLand all my life or risk becoming stone."

"And you can light something on fire without magic how exactly?"

"Pressure," he shrugged, taking yet another pull of smoke before taking it in his fingers. "It's not totally impermeable. I can't go swimming or hand-wash dishes without gloves or anything."

"So I could burn myself if I grabbed you too hard?"

"Probably not? You'd notice and let go if you could manage that, hopefully anyway." He told him without letting his thoughts scramble in a thousand directions. "I've burned things on accident from grabbing too tight without thinking, but not so much since I first got my magic."

"I have seen you break glass from getting pissed once or twice. Hard to manage from grip alone. And you're strong, but not that strong." Sans lightly scoffed.

"What do you mean?"

"I know what LV you are," Sans answered, exhaling smoke as he poured them two more shots.

Grillby took the shot glass without thinking, watching Sans drink his with less discomfort than the first. "How?"

Sans gave him a sly smirk, bouncing his sockets once playfully without answering. 

"Um, a-anything else you know about me?"

"Well uh," Sans leaned back on the couch, reclining comfortably with his skull nestled against the spine of the couch in the overstuffed cushion. He gestured to the speaker next to him. "Spot on so far for the songs and shit," he chuckled weakly. "so pretty fuckin' observant in general. But I guess you gotta be if you run a bar." Sans paused to take a drag and sigh smoke. "Grillby's not your birth name and your soul-traits's fuckin'... Integrity." he scoffed darkly.

"I… I haven't told you, or anyone else that." Grillby told him quietly. "How the fuck do you know that?" He asked without bite, only confusion.

"The Integrity thing? Pretty obvious what most people's are considering it's almost always the color of their blood. Your magic's blue too, you blush that fun shade of indigo when you get flustered or pissed." Sans answered with a shrug and a weak smile.

"I-I meant my name."

"Guy's gotta have a few secrets, right?" Sans smiled at him. "Well, some of us more than most I guess." He added with a sigh, looking pointedly around the living room.

Grillby took his shot and asked. "Do you know my real name or do you just know it isn't Grillby?"

"Your 'real' name is what you want to be called." Sans replied. "But yeah, I know it. Dunno if I'd pronounce it right though. Considering it's, ya know, fuckin' Latin." 

Grillby sat very still, uncertain what to feel. "H-how long have you known that?"

"Since I met you."

Grillby looked sharply at him in disbelief.

He paused for a second before admitting something else. "I uh, only know that it's Latin because I'd never seen or heard anything like it before. I looked into it. It's um," he cleared his throat, glancing anxiously once at him. "F-fitting."

"Wh-? How?"

"Br-bright. Radiant. Used to uh, used to mean something like star light, right?"

"I-I meant… I meant how did you figure that out?"

"The University library. And the undernet."

Grillby frowned at him in mild annoyance.

With a weak snicker, Sans adjusted his skull on the couch. "All right, I'll stop teasin' so much about it. Remember me sayin' I have a way of seein' what people like?"

"Yes," Grillby answered, a thread of jealousy winding through him. How was it fair that people who just wanted someone in their bed for a night or two got to have Sans, his Sans, to sleep with? A monster with the ability to know exactly what they wanted in the moment, and he was stuck on the sidelines with nothing?!

He returned calmly to the conversation when Sans started again.

"It's part of a whole uh, thing I can do. Even got me a super-secret job and shit." He chuckled to himself. "Promise not to tell anyone?" he asked rhetorically, glancing at the other man with a short-lived smirk before continuing. "I almost always do surface-level stuff, just a little deeper than what anyone else can with a stat-check. And can pretty easily see stuff beyond stats, but I obviously see those too even when someone tries hard to hide 'em." He gave Grillby another quick glance. "But uh… if I want to, and sometimes when I don't, I can see a person's whole soul. Everything about them. Good, bad, ugly, weird. All of it."

He tilted his skull against the cushion to give Grillby a weak smile, his pupils looking away as he remembered the first night he'd spent with Grillby at his bar. He'd been there hundreds of times before, just never late enough to catch Grillby himself before then. He was expected to be home by nine-thirty for years and Grillby was usually spending the first part of his shift working on the books and inventory in his office at that time. 

Once he'd slipped out and stayed out well after curfew the first time, he suddenly didn't have a curfew anymore. Probably because he returned well after Papyrus was asleep and he tended to be less defiant when trashed. Though he started to make a habit of staying out as late as he could once he had the privilege to. 

"You were… suspiciously nice to me, and to Red Bird, you remember that?" Sans asked, coming back to the present. Which was only slightly preferable to his prickling memories.

Grillby nodded. Sans had caught him pouring a drink for the bird not only without adding any alcohol, but subtly not taking her gold for it either. He'd taken her gold, pretended to count out the change and handed it back. But after she turned he gave the rest of her gold back, apologizing for miscounting the change at first. How could he forget anyone catching him so easily after getting away with that exact act for decades and only getting caught by his daughter and his assistant manager?

"I stayed a while to get sober… ish. And then gave you a few pretty thorough checks. Found out a lot about you. Forgot most of it later, I always do. But the fact you had no ulterior motives not only freaked me out," he chuckled warmly. "It made me realize there was a chance to… fuckin'..." his face fell as he gestured at nothing before letting his hand drop hard to his lap. "Trust someone other than my own brother."

Grillby felt shame cut deep through his soul. Unfortunately the only thing that could even come close to fixing such a betrayal wasn't something he was willing to do. He had to hold out hope that the final outcome of their situation was what he wanted for the both of them.

Sans paused again, looking at the cigarette slowly burning in his fingers. 

"I try to avoid it unless the King needs me to, because it always fucks me up pretty bad for a while after when I look that hard." He rubbed his temple with his thumb. "Especially when it's the sick fucks I gotta look at." He took a harsh pull of smoke on purpose, wincing when it burned his throat. But he needed a slight distraction to ground himself before he continued. "Because I," he paused to exhale. "I have to figure out everyone they uh, they hurt. Write down times and evidence to double-check what we already have on 'em."

His gaze was distant when he added. "Those nights I come back after working for a few days in a row? Yeah, that's why I drink myself stupid. It fades until I don't really remember it anymore, thank God, but that takes a few weeks." He took another pull of smoke. "Somethin' always sticks around though. An image, a sound, a…" he shuddered, badly as he tried not to. "How they felt when they did it…"

He sat up with a weary sigh and poured two more shots, taking his immediately with Grillby following suit.

Grillby noted they were three shots deep. Barely a drop in the ocean for either of them, but enough to let his muscles loosen for the first time in days. He wondered how deep they'd get in the bottle over the rest of the night.

"Never saw this comin' though," he added with an unreadable smile. "Everything else I know about you's been mostly organic, heh." Sans told him, steering the conversation back to something more comfortable. "That's actually the way I prefer it. Feels… weird otherwise."

"Is that right?" Grillby asked, getting the hint and leaning sideways into the couch to face him. "And what would that be?" He took a slow pull of his cigarette, frowning when he realized it was nearly finished.

Sans chewed his bottom lip for a moment before he answered, looking up at the ceiling as he thought. "You look great in black but your favorite color is actually red, you just can't stand how most shades look with your flames. It's burgundy, by the way. The one that suits you." he said with a quick glance at Grillby and then just as quickly away.

Sans scoffed, "You don't like sweets but hate ninety-nine percent of green anything , vegetable or not. You don't like the colors orange or gold, like, noticeably." Sans punctuated that with his hands and a short smile. "You love Sinatra and Tracy Chapman." He smiled to himself. "You'll sing when it's just us at the bar and you think I'm too drunk to notice. Might've played it up a couple times just to hear you when I had a shitty day."

Sans shifted his skull again to look at him, wanting to read his expressions. "The… the way you move makes me think you used to be… I dunno, a dancer? Definitely a fighter, duh." He smirked, nearly everyone who met Grillby noticed the scars the first time. He didn't try to hide them, he'd have to cover from head-to-toe to get them all if he did. But just dressing normally, even while covering up more than most monsters did, there were still dozens visible if you were looking hard enough. If you could stand his impassive stare when you first met the man. (Something Grillby wasn't aware was half as intimidating as it really was.) You'd notice at least two or three without looking more than briefly though.

"But it's… different than how I see fighters move. You know, smooth." Sans shrugged lightly. "Elegant," he whispered the last word in a short breath of smoke, not realizing he'd said it until it already left his teeth.

Grillby was silent a moment, not realizing how closely Sans had actually been watching him all that time. "Uh, yeah, you could… probably say I was a dancer." He replied, crushing the last of his cigarette and dropping the remains in the ashtray before grabbing another to replace it. He scoffed once uncomfortably. "I mean, I did dance sometimes." he added with a brief shadow of blue across his cheeks.

"Ooh," Sans shifted to nearly mirror Grillby's position on the couch, turning to face him with a crooked grin. "Exotic?" He questioned, dropping his spent cigarette in the tray also.

Grillby grimaced, trying to hide an awkward smile. "Um, y-yeah? Kinda?" He laughed. "I got paid by the night, let's put it that way." he answered with a quick wince.

Sans couldn’t hide his shock, leaving it plainly on his face long enough for Grillby to notice. 

The elemental gave him a knowing smile. "It was a job," he shrugged. "I liked it for a while. Had pros and cons, just like everything else." He looked down at his scarred arms. "Was before all of this, though. Probably wouldn't get the same kind of clientele looking like this." he chuckled warmly. 

"I j-just," Sans looked him up and down quickly without thinking, seeing a lot of Grillby in a new light. How the fuck had he missed that when he did a karmic-check on his soul all those years ago? Probably because he wasn't trying to see his entire life, just what he was doing that night in the bar and get an idea of who the hell he was to be acting like that in the Underground.

Grillby sensed the obvious shift in attitude from Sans and gave him space to process whatever was running through his mind.

"I…" the day before came to mind, when Sans got enough of a spike in magic to see Grillby had been telling the truth about never meaning to give Sans the idea that he was going to assault him. 

He also remembered the comment he'd made, about going through that more times than he could count. Combined with the bit of knowledge he'd once heard from his brother that sex-workers were at a much higher risk of assault and violent crimes than the general population, he fully believed Grillby now. And the fact that it had more than likely been a long time since he'd last been assaulted was probably how he missed that too that first night. No way in hell would anyone try that on him now.

It didn't excuse the situation, but it made a piece of it incrementally better. And for a moment, Sans felt a little safer than he had before. Believing for the time-being that Grillby wouldn't cross that line. He was hoping he wouldn't prove him wrong.

He got side-tracked for a distressing moment as he wondered how young Grillby must have been for that to happen to him. He couldn't imagine anyone insane enough to try assaulting a guy made of fucking fire if he had magic. And it wouldn't take long to figure it out if they did. Before monsters get their magic and go through puberty in a matter of days, they're basically helpless to any kind of abuse or attacks. Or if it was a worse situation, life or death if he didn't submit. Or fuck, if it was both.

He had a sobering thought. Other fire-magic types were immune to fire. They could get away with that without any damage…

No fucking wonder Grillby kept himself physically strong, too.

A few lighter things surfaced in his memory and he looked back at Grillby with a warm smile that quickly turned mischievous. He poured them another shot each, handing Grillby his again. A little extra alcohol would make the shift back to a less serious train of thought easier.

"Explains some things," he told him honestly, shoving away all of the dark, intrusive thoughts that were running through his mind. Things he had no intention of returning to. He had to see enough of that happening to strangers because of his job as Judge, he didn't need to think about it happening to someone he knew. 

Even if he was a psycho. No one deserved that kind of abuse.

Grillby snorted in good humor as he started to set his shot glass down, only to have Sans fill it yet again. He glanced skeptically at the other man before they downed those too.

What were they at now? Five shots? That was creeping toward tipsy for them both. Sans had to know that.

"Yeah? Like what?" Grillby playfully prompted.

"How you're that fucking good at kissing." Sans' smile brightened when the comment made the other man laugh.

"Is that right?" Grillby smiled, idly running his fingers through his flames before dropping his hand to his lap again.

Sans nodded, biting his bottom lip. He adjusted his weight, leaning harder into the couch and resting his temple on his loose fist as he braced his elbow on the spine of the couch.

"Anything else?" Grillby asked, blowing smoke away from them.

"The way you dress,"

Grillby frowned slightly in confusion and Sans continued.

"You don't do flashy often, but everything you wear even," he gestured to him. "pj's, it's always something that suits your uh," he stopped talking, aware he was probably about to give Grillby too much ammunition for the future if he kept going. "Physique…" he lamely finished, looking away.

"That all?" Grillby gently pressed, suddenly very curious to know what had Sans a little hot under the collar.

He inwardly grimaced as the phrase went through his mind.

Sans debated telling him more before deciding he'd already made it more than obvious over the past week he was attracted to Grillby, it couldn't hurt to explain why, right?

He ran his hand over his skull, letting it rest heavy on the back of his neck, ignoring the collar. He made a little effort to try hiding a smile before he looked back at Grillby. "You get nervous around me, but when you get confident, damn dude."

A slightly proud blush sparked under Grillby's eyes as he took another drag, looking away.

"Also, holy shit you know exactly what you're doing in bed." Sans admitted, rolling his shoulder to stop a shiver running down his spine. That would have been too much to show.

Grillby snickered. "I got paid to be good at it." He shrugged, already done with his second cigarette.

He paused as he let the ash from the crushed cigarette slip from his hand. Would Sans take another shot? He decided to try and poured yet another round, a little heavy-handedly.

Sans snickered, shifting on the couch to take the shot with him.

Six shots, six and half with how Grillby poured the last two. Three within ten minutes. That would probably get them somewhere.

"Nah, the way you move is fucking unreal." Sans insisted shamelessly.

"I got paid well, how about that?"

"I don't fuckin' doubt it for a second."

Grillby glanced at him before he shifted under the intense look from Sans. Not only had it been ages since someone paid him compliments that weren't just paying him or straight-up backhanded and sarcastic, but it felt genuine. He really, really hoped Sans was being genuine. He wasn't sure his heart could take it if he was lying. Which there was a decent possibility of. That he willfully ignored.

With a sly smile, Sans poured another round. Just a little clumsily, Grillby noted as his heart started to pick up its pace.

Seven…? Seven shots? Had he lost count already, or was he just getting flustered at the idea of Sans possibly pushing them to a point of plausible deniability?

Was Sans fast-tracking getting drunk on purpose now? The conversation had taken a turn and he was starting to feel the effect of the sudden intake of alcohol. Something Sans had to be feeling too. They were at a point that would make most people sick, but they had a higher-tolerance than most. 

Or was Sans just enjoying the fact that he was drinking again and getting comfortable?

Or was it both?

"What I don't get though," Sans began leadingly, he put his left hand on the couch and leaned closer. "Is if you're just a really good actor, or if I'm actually making you react the ways you do…"

"The only time I acted in bed with you is when I wanted to keep quiet." Grillby quietly replied, positive he was reading Sans' next moves correctly. 

"Really?" Sans asked curiously, rising to his knees and starting to crawl closer.

Grillby swallowed in anticipation, nodding.

"So, you're tellin' me," Sans put his right hand on his stomach, watching closely as he ran it up his torso to his chest. Grillby's breath hitched and he didn't resist—how could he—when Sans pushed lightly over his sternum to make him lay back.

"When I just touch you, " Sans crawled closer before sitting up and put his hands on Grillby's knees. He smirked when Grillby spread his legs for him before he even moved. Still, he slid his hands down the inside of his thighs all the way to his crotch before dragging his thumbs up to his hips. Grillby's eyes closed, he unconsciously licked his lips before biting them.

Still not getting the reaction he wanted, Sans slid his hands slowly to the couch and slotted neatly between Grillby's thighs, pressing their bodies together.

"Mm," the other man shakily sighed, breathing harder as Sans laid comfortably on top of him.

"That's really how I make you feel?"

Grillby barely opened his eyes, looking back at Sans with an uneven nod. "Y-yeah, it… it is."

"Is that just 'cause it's me, or have you always been this…" Sans bent closer and softly breathed over his throat.

"Nnh!"

"Sensitive?" Sans finished his question with a snicker.

"Th-the first one," Grillby answered, breath shaking from him as he kept his head tipped to expose his neck for the skeleton over him. "It-it's you."

"Oh? Well that's fun to know."

"An-and probably dang-gerous for you to know." Grillby added, his voice cracking with a small smile.

"Oh, definitely." Sans agreed, kissing his throat.

"Mm!"

"Heh, definitely keep doing that." Sans commented before kissing lower, this time over his sternum. 

"I will, l-long as you do, too." Grillby told him after a short gasp.

Sans smugly hummed through the next kiss just under his ribcage, his hands slowly sliding down his waist. Grillby quietly moaned as Sans dragged his torso over his thinly-covered dick.

Grillby's head snapped up when he realized where Sans was and what he was hinting at doing. He was braced on his elbows near his hips, his skull just above his crotch. He bit his tongue and bounced his sockets playfully. 

"O-oh," Grillby breathed.

"This won't uh, burn me will it?" Sans asked with a nervous chuckle, tapping his fingers against his waistband. He glanced down pointedly without moving his skull.

"You'd be the first," Grillby replied with just a slight tremor of anticipation, hoping dearly that Sans was asking if it would burn him to cum in his mouth. He really, really hoped that's what he was asking. He watched Sans as he bent lower, sliding his shirt up his stomach to kiss his abs. He looked up through half-open sockets as he dragged his tongue up a scar. Grillby shivered when Sans closed his sockets and started to travel lower. He ran his hands up his chest and he gave a teasing bite below his navel.

"Mmn!" Grillby couldn't help himself, this was something straight out of a wet-dream! He jolted and grabbed the back and side of the couch to keep from being any louder. That was already loud enough, thank you very much!

"Dude, you gonna burst before I even get started?" Sans joked, lifting his face. His sockets widened in surprise at Grillby's sparking blush, the tight grip he had on the couch, the slight tremble in his muscles. 

"Oh? Is that right, baby-doll?" He purred, planting another kiss on his stomach.

Grillby flinched pleasantly, biting his bottom lip hard.

"Okay, first off, fucking breathe." Sans told him with a light-hearted snicker as he pushed up to brace over Grillby's torso again.

Grillby nodded once and breathed out, faintly hoping Sans didn't notice it was mostly steam. He didn't even have enough blood in his brain to feel disappointed Sans' face was no longer less than an inch from his cock. He gulped, watching as Sans slowly crawled up his body, between his legs.

"Okay, now too much breathing." Sans added with a playful smile when he was close enough to lean over his face and Grillby was already panting heavy, and frankly, far too fast to be healthy. "You're gonna pass-out, dude. And then what would I do with myself for the rest of the night?" He said with a smirk before adding, "Jerk-off over you while you sleep?"

"I-I'm uh, I-" The idea of Sans doing something so debaucherous was short-circuiting his brain. His eyes flickered as the image of Sans actually following-through with that ran vividly through his mind. Sans straddling his chest as he stroked himself over his sleeping body. Struggling to keep his voice down so he didn't wake him. Taking advantage of his vulnerability and cumming on his face.

"Wh-what?" He dumbly asked, still breathing hard and fast.

"What? Too horny to function?" Sans teased. "Dude, you're about to fucking combust." He added with a genuine laugh, glancing at the wild puffs of blue fire igniting in the air between them. Still chuckling, he swiped at one that landed on the spine of the couch before patting it out.

Grillby relaxed a little, loosening the grip on the couch before he burned right through the fabric with an unsteady laugh. He let his head hit the arm of the couch and took a slow breath. "Maybe? Fuck," he laughed again. 

Holy shit, what was wrong with him...? In all his life he never thought of over half the shit that he desperately longed for Sans to do with him. To him. Not until the last year or so when he was nearing the end of his rope. In private, it hardly phased him. But with Sans right there it hit him how fucked-up his mind was sometimes.

"Just hold me then," Sans sighed near his jaw as he lowered his body to meet Grillby's once more.

"Fff-fuck," Grillby stuttered out as Sans nudged his head to the side with his temple and dragged his teeth down his throat. His hands grabbed Sans' back and he tried not to moan through his teeth when Sans started to grind his hips down.

Sans went slow, drawing out every act to near-torture for the man beneath him. At one point Grillby couldn't take it any longer and reached for their laps, only to have Sans shove his hand away and shift to grind their cocks together after nearly ten minutes of only pressing his stomach against his crotch. Grillby gasped, feeling Sans was just as hard as he was, groaning with his head tilted back before he arched his body against Sans'.

"Nnngh! Saaans! Please!" He tugged on Sans' hips to gain more leverage.

Sans hummed in pride, only to hide a moan he couldn't quite catch before it escaped. "Fuck," he cussed breathlessly, "You beg so pretty…"

Grillby shuddered weakly at the winded praise. Had he died? Was this heaven? As cheesy as it sounded he couldn't come up with another reason why Sans was suddenly so affectionate and willing to not only touch him, but tease him and sound so damn enthusiastic about it.

Especially considering Sans had just lied to his brother about where he was to cover Grillby's ass.

But he didn't have the mental capacity to consider the skeleton's motivations right then.

"What is it, sweetness?" Sans asked as he kissed his throat.

"I-I… Fuuuuck…" Grillby's hand held the back of Sans' skull, encouraging him to bite down like he'd been so patiently threatening for ages. He whined in disappointment when Sans pulled back.

"Say it," Sans told him with just a hint of sharpness.

"G-God, touch me…"

Sans gave a dark, smug chuckle that sent a shiver through Grillby. "Say it again," he softly kissed his cheek. 

"T-touch me, Sans." His voice broke.

"Louder."

"Touch me!"

"Beg,"

"Please!" Grillby shut his eyes, twisting under him as he clutched at Sans' arms.

"Yeah?" Sans slowly dragged his hand down Grillby's torso, stopping at his waistband.

"Ye- yes," Grillby panted harshly, barely opening his eyes to look at him.

"How bad do you want it?" Sans traced over his hard cock with his fingertips, only separated by his thin flannel pants and boxers.

"O-oh, shit," Grillby sighed.

"I asked a fucking question," Sans quietly snapped, pressing his palm against Grillby's dick.

"FUCK!"

Sans growled, reached up and harshly tangled his fingers through his flames, quickly bracing on his elbow. He tugged hard, jerking Grillby's head back. 

Grillby gasped, spine arching ahead of a pitiful whine. "S-Sans," he desperately sighed his name and Sans roughly shook him, drawing another whine from him.

"I asked. A. Fucking. Question."

"B-bad, want… want it…" Grillby gasped for air.

"You need it?" Sans asked softly, loosening the grip on his flames and running his palm up and down Grillby's erection.

"Ffffuck yeesss…"

Sans chuckled in approval. "Say it for me, nice and pretty again." He gently scratched the back of his head where he'd pulled so viciously on him.

Grillby swallowed hard, struggling for air. "I need it, I need you t-to fuckin' touch me. Please." He told him clearly, his face dazed and his eyes fighting to focus.

"Good," Sans told him proudly. 

Grillby sighed, eyes closing in anticipation. He felt a flicker of confusion when nothing else happened. Sans had stopped. He lifted his face to look down his body where Sans still knelt between his thighs, smiling with dark satisfaction at him. His hand was still laying on his dick and the other rested on the inside of his knee.

He'd nearly caught his breath when Sans winked at him. He gave a playful pat to his twitching cock and moved back, sliding off the couch.

"Wh-what?" Grillby couldn't stop himself from asking, sitting up and then twisting to watch as Sans scooped up his pillow and blanket from the chair.

"Sans?" He looked up at the skeleton in stunned confusion when he stopped at the back of the couch.

"I think I was owed some payback," Sans told him, leaning over to quickly kiss his cheek.

"For what?" Grillby dumbly asked.

"Everything," Sans replied lightly with a quick shrug. He traced his fingers up the edge of Grillby's jaw to his chin, scoffing smugly when it only took the faintest guidance to get him to tip his head back. He leaned closer slowly, sighing against his lips. Grillby's eyes flickered and softly closed in agonized anticipation. 

Sans stood up and started for the stairs, pulling his hand away and leaving Grillby aching for more. "You comin' or not?" He called teasingly as he jogged up to his room, leaving a positively bewildered man behind.

"Well?" Sans yelled down after a few minutes where Grillby had just stared off at various parts of his living room, struggling to find an answer for what the fuck just happened.

With the smallest spark of hope that maybe Sans wanted to keep going in the bedroom he bolted from the couch and sprinted up the stairs after him.

Grillby caught himself on the doorframe, breathing hard. Sans was laying comfortably in bed on his back under the blankets, one arm folded under his skull. He turned to look at him with a smile and patted the bed beside him where the sheets had been thrown back and he'd left enough space for Grillby to join him.

Grillby started to step closer when Sans gestured to the light. He switched it off and shut the door behind him. He didn't catch Sans' gaze hardening for just a fraction of a second, his pupils darting to the small alarm at the top of the frame as it chirped.

"C'mon already," Sans chuckled, motioning for him to hurry up.

Grillby quickly crawled into bed beside him, doing his best to control his breathing. Sans gave him a warm smile, adjusting his skull on the pillow as he rolled to his right side to face him.

"Hm," he sighed, tracing a line down Grillby's arm and watching the violet flames ripple under his fingers. "Romantic," he commented, looking pointedly at the soft lilac glow surrounding them.

When Grillby looked away to see what Sans meant, the skeleton roughly snatched his hip and brought their bodies together. Grillby gasped and Sans snickered, "I do really love doing that." he confessed.

Grillby weakly huffed. He was both thoroughly enjoying the teasing, and quickly growing impatient and even more desperate because of it. And he had the suspicion Sans was not going to let him have a shred of satisfaction that night. But if he let him get Sans off, that would certainly help ease his disappointment.

"Mm," Sans frowned in thought. "Tell ya what, pick a number between one and ten."

"What?"

Sans stared expectantly at him, thumb stroking over his hip.

"Uh, fi-five?"

"Alright," he nodded, still thinking. "Now, me or you?"

Grillby's forehead creased with confusion. Sans' thumb slipped under the edge of his shirt and dragged a little harder over his bare skin. "Uh, sh-shit, um, m-me?"

Sans nodded again thoughtfully, slowly licking his teeth as he looked away. "You have five minutes. Make 'em count."

"What?" Grillby asked for what felt like the millionth time that night.

Sans' expression shifted to seductive. "You have five minutes," he repeated in a smoky tone. "Make them count."

"I–what can I do? What can't I do?" Grillby quickly asked, brain short-circuiting yet again at the possibilities and trying to stall.

"Mm, clock's ticking. Migh– mm!" Grillby interrupted him with a kiss, tugging aggressively at his skull. He hadn't kissed Sans since their first morning, not truly, and he needed that first and foremost. He moaned into Sans' mouth when his teeth parted and their tongues brushed together. His hands slid down Sans' back to his waist before quickly slipping under Sans' shirt to touch as much of his bare skin as possible.

Sans pulled on his hip, arching against him and giving a breathless laugh through their kiss. It was cut short by Grillby's hand sliding into his pants, before he could grab his ass or slide to the front of his sweats he pulled away.

"C-can I-?"

"Four minutes," Sans answered him with a winded smirk. "I said make 'em count. So you wanna talk or fu–?" Once again, Grillby interrupted him with a kiss. He half-fulfilled one long-standing desire and roughly grabbed Sans' ass before thrusting his hips against him and grinding their cocks together.

"F-fuck!" Sans gasped in shocked pleasure.

With Sans distracted, Grillby brushed his hand around Sans' hip and then to his cock. He wrapped his fingers around him and began to work his hand.

"OH! MM-!" Sans bit his lips and ducked his face against Grillby's chest, his hands dragging down his back. His legs shifted, resisting the urge to buck his body into his hot, tight grip. He groaned through his teeth as he fought the fast-rising peak threatening to overwhelm him. "Nnnngh!"

Why the fuck is this so fucking good…?!

"Sans? Look at me?"

Trembling through his fierce concentration, Sans lifted his face. He stared up at the other man's beautifully flickering violet flames and his stupid fucking smile, arrogant and confident and hungry for him. He watched his expression soften with want and longing and desire he'd never seen before and he felt a tendril of pleasure pull taut like piano wire in his gut.

His skull snapped back with a sharp gasp and Grillby snatched the opportunity to bite Sans' neck. "FFF-FUCK!" He grit his teeth, clawing now at Grillby's back. "Ghk! Nngh! Shit! Harder!" He shouted without thinking.

Grillby moved higher up his throat, just under his jaw and bit down harder than before.

"Ah-ahn!"

Grillby's eyes flickered at the sound Sans made and he redoubled his efforts, pumping his hand faster and even letting traces of magic flow through his grip as he cradled Sans' skull with his free hand.

"O-oh, Oh my God… " Sans sighed against his shoulder, body tensing in impending bliss. He begrudgingly remembered to check the time and wished he hadn't, glancing over Grillby's shoulder at the digital clock on his nightstand.

Seven minutes had passed.

Seven minutes in heaven? Isn't that what that game's called? Never seemed like enough time to really have fun. Guess I was wrong.

"Nnngh! Fuuuck!" He growled through his teeth when Grillby tightened his grip and started to twist his wrist, gathering the strength to speak up before he came. He shuddered as he pulled himself back from the brink when Grillby quite obviously was trying to force a hickey to the surface under his jaw, biting intently and rolling his borderline scalding tongue over his skin.

I can… I can just let him keep going, right? Just a little?

"Oh, Sans… I want to hear you cum for me..."

Goddamnit! He'd get too fucking proud of himself if I don't stop him.

"T-time's up, time's up," he panted, struggling to breathe and talk and not just crumble in Grillby's arms.

Grillby slowed to a stop, pulling his face back from Sans' darkly marked throat. He hadn't expected them to show up so clearly from what felt like such little effort. His eyes widened in surprise before smiling in quiet pride that, at least for a few days, Sans would have visible evidence of his passion. Evidence that Sans wouldn't be able to deny and avoid the fact that he asked for more.

"You want me to keep going?" Grillby purred, softly sighing over the hickies on Sans' neck.

"I–"

"Sounded like you were so, so close, love…"

"W-was, I was." Sans nodded, not realizing until later that he probably should have kept that to himself.

Never got so close to cumming in less than ten fucking minutes in my life!

"Why not let me finish you off? Was it not good enough for you?" Grillby asked. "I can make it better, you know… Just tell me what you want." He smiled smugly when he felt Sans twitch in his hand. "Haven't had you in my mouth yet, love. I can promise you, you'll love it."

"If… If you get me off, you're n-not sleeping in here tonight." Sans told him, breathing heavily. Having the delayed reaction that he'd just given Grillby permission to make him cum, his sockets widened before he had to fight back the sudden urge to beg for that. He hadn't given him a time-limit or any boundaries and he wasn't sure if he'd be willing to stop him if he just took control.

"So if I don't make you cum, you'll let me sleep in here?"

Sans nodded, missing the emphasis on Grillby's question as disappointment surged through his gut. Why hadn't he just kept his fucking mouth shut?! God, he wanted to let Grillby keep going…

He was struggling to find even a scrap of the confidence and charm he had in spades only minutes ago. He'd gambled and lost, or broke-even, he wasn't sure yet. He'd had so much control earlier and he just threw it away with a half-baked idea to make Grillby want him even more. Trying to twist the knife and failing.

"What if…?" Grillby leaned closer, whispering. "I just keep my hand right here, and you use it instead?"

Sans shut his sockets, refusing to react.

"I won't move a muscle if you don't want me to." he added with a purr.

He has no fucking right to be this goddamn sexy! And he has no right to keep me here, either. I… still need to spin this in my favor.

Sans found a piece of his original resolve that started that entire situation. With a smile, he reached down to Grillby's wrist, looking him in the eyes as he held his hand in place.

"Okay, don't move," he told him with a grin. He waited for him to nod in understanding before he rolled his hips, thrusting weakly into his hand. 

Grillby's eyes widened, glancing down. He looked back at Sans, watching as his face twisted in pleasure. He hadn't really expected that to work. Sans had been so stubborn and so adamant on resisting what he obviously wanted. How desperate was he?!

"God damn, you're so fucking warm…" Sans half-moaned, sockets closing with a crooked smile.

"Yeah?" Grillby asked breathlessly.

"Hey, uh," Sans paused and gently pulled Grillby's hand free. He held it up near their faces. With a sinfully smug grin he whispered, "Get it wet for me, babe."

Heart pounding, Grillby first licked then quietly spit into his own palm, his eyes locked on Sans' face.

Satisfied, Sans guided their hands back under his pants and Grillby obediently wrapped his fingers around him once more. He was rewarded with a soft gasp and a shaking sigh as Sans' sockets fluttered and his face flushed a darker shade of red.

"Ah, shit… Almost feels like when I was fucking you. You remember that, right?" 

"Ye-yes, I do." How could he forget?!

"Wasn't it somethin' like this?" Sans punctuated the word with a hard thrust. "That made you beg for me?"

Grillby took a shaking breath and nodded.

"Why do you want me to get off, but haven't asked me to make you cum?"

"I begged. Downstairs I begged for it." He very nearly grabbed Sans' hip to bring their bodies together again, but stopped as he barely remembered Sans had told him not to move.

"Nn-nah, you begged for me to touch you. There's a difference."

"I… I love seeing you cum and knowing I had something to do with it."

"Like when I moaned your name on camera when I came?"

Grillby's hand tightened in reflex and Sans gave him a smug wink. He pulled Grillby's hand free, with some heavily denied mental difficulty on Sans' part. To his bittersweet benefit, the sudden cold compared to the divine heat made his cock start to soften.

Sans rolled in bed to his other side, guiding Grillby's hand over his chest to hold him snugly. He slid back with a content sigh, pressing his back along the front of Grillby's torso. Maybe even 'accidentally' arching his back to brush his ass against his lap…

"You're just going to sleep after all that?" Grillby asked in mild disbelief.

Sans nodded with a hum of affirmation.

"What if I'm not ready to sleep yet?" Grillby tried in a soft purr. Maybe he could entice him to keep going? He'd managed to convince him to go a little longer earlier.

"Then you can stay up, take care of yourself, and go sleep in your bed."

Accepting defeat, Grillby sighed and cuddled in close to Sans. As far as consolation prizes went, holding Sans while they slept was pretty high up there. But having sex with Sans again, especially if it could be anything like what they'd just done, would always be his grand prize.

"You're allowed to just ask for what you want, you know." Grillby told him as he settled his chin against the crook of Sans' neck. He closed his eyes with a happy sigh when Sans didn't tell him to move.

"This is more fun," Sans replied, sighing too as he got comfortable laying in Grillby's warmth.

"Wait," Sans said as the words sank in. He laughed—his realization a bit delayed—louder than Grillby had heard since he got there. "Did you seriously just say that?!" He asked as he twisted to look in incredulous humor at him.

Grillby blushed, eyes wide as he also finally realized what he'd said. "I… Yeah, I did, didn't I?" he replied nervously, positive Sans was going to kick him out of bed. Forever.

"Y-you fuckin'–! Oh my, God!" Sans cackled, rolling back over as he shook with genuine laughter.

Grillby started to move away but was pleasantly surprised when Sans threaded his fingers through his hand and pulled it back up to his chest.

"No, you're gonna have to sit with that one tonight." Sans told him, still chuckling weakly. "I'm already warm, you're not leavin'."

Well. Okay then.

Grillby awkwardly cleared his throat and cautiously slid closer, pressing their bodies together like they'd been just before his slip of the tongue.

"But if you start humpin' me in my sleep, you're outta here." Sans added, a smile still in his voice as he settled easily against the pillow. The hand laced in Sans' tightened around his fingers as the skeleton pushed his ass back against Grillby again. Definitely on purpose this time.

"So I should get that in before you fall asleep?" Grillby playfully shot back before they both tensed as the double meaning hit them.

"Tch," Sans scoffed as he shifted in bed. "You fuckin' wish," he added, sockets shut tight in concentration as he forced himself to exhale slow and calm.

Chapter Text

(Day Ten)

Sans woke up to a warm hand sliding across his bare stomach under his shirt. He sighed, leaning his back a little harder against Grillby. It was nice. And he was finally willing to admit (on some level) that he loved waking up like that. All bundled in bone-deep warmth in Grillby's muscular arms.

He was almost asleep again but jolted wide-awake when the other man shifted closer. Grillby's leg slid easily between Sans', his knee stopped to rest between his thighs only inches from his crotch. With a drowsy sigh, Grillby rubbed his face against Sans' shoulder blade and pulled him tighter to him before his arm went lax in sleep.

Sans' heart was pounding so hard he could feel his pulse in his fingertips… and much lower. Grillby was definitely asleep. If he'd been awake he wouldn't have missed the opportunity to move his knee higher to a more intimate position and wouldn't have let his hand fall to the bed near his waist. 

Though Sans realized with a sharp pang of shame that wished he was just a little more awake. Just enough to bring their bodies in tighter, to be pressed together snugly from head to toe. With emphasis on the parts in the middle. For his hand to slide further up to his chest, burying his face against his throat, his hips arching against his body…

He waited several long moments, silently hoping the other man would move again.

Please… 

He shut his sockets as he forced himself to stay still while he debated what he could do to just… get Grillby closer without waking him up. He didn't want to move and wake him and then have to pretend he hadn't been doing anything weird. And he didn't want to just lay there aching to be touched either.

And speaking of 'aching'.

Fuck!

Sans realized that he was hard. Not that he was surprised by that point, only surprised to realize he hadn't noticed it sooner and that he couldn't remember if he woke up like that or if it had happened soon after. But the fact was that he was hard and it was getting more difficult to resist the temptation of doing something to relieve the pressure in his gut still lingering from several hours earlier.

Why hadn't he just swallowed his pride and let Grillby get him off?! In this crazy situation he didn't even need to feel obligated to do the same. Though he wanted to. 

Fine, I can just… move a little. If he wakes up, I'll blame it on him and just go to the bathroom and take care of this. Then I could come back and… Fuck, him holding me after that sounds so nice…

Before he could reason his way out of it, out of some kind of release after his own infuriating insistence on edging them both only a few hours ago, he very slowly slid his right leg over Grillby's and paused when his knee was gently under the elementals with his shin pressed against the back of Grillby's calf. He gently tugged Grillby's leg higher until he could carefully lay his knee on the outside of Grillby's thigh, holding his thigh securely against Sans' ass. The warmth that spread between his legs and over his crotch was heavenly. He couldn't help arching against the heated muscle, grinding softly and slowly for several seconds before he forced himself to stop.

He bit his lips in an attempt to keep his breathing under control as he snaked his hand under his shirt to hold Grillby's and guide it lower to slip under his waist, encouraging him to pull him closer. He wanted to slide his hand lower to his throbbing cock. He almost desperately wanted that strong, warm grip to encircle him and... He resisted. This was already weird enough if he stopped to think about it, he didn't want to cross into downright 'creepy' territory. 

Even if Grillby had already sent that ship sailing himself long ago…

After a second it worked and Sans was gradually pulled firmly against Grillby's torso, his warm hand shifted lower down his stomach, his fingertips brushed the inside of Sans' left hip. He couldn't stop the shiver down his spine with a short sigh of relief, relaxing into him. Until he realized Grillby's thumb was gently stroking his stomach just above his navel.

Grillby was awake.

Sans stayed perfectly still, barely breathing. His teeth dug into his lips until he tasted blood as a hot, intentional sigh brushed over the back of his neck. 

"You say the damndest things in your sleep, love." Grillby whispered, tracing his fingers lower to Sans' waistband. "Wonder what I could get you to say right now, mm?" he added in a sultry purr near his jaw. "So relaxed and helpless in my arms, only able to tell me 'no' if you were awake…"

Did Grillby really think he was asleep, or was he just giving Sans the opportunity to deny he'd asked for anything? Verbally or otherwise.

Sans' gut clenched tight with want. It was almost enough to make a small sound escape as his hips shifted just enough to give Grillby's fingertips space to slide even lower under his boxers. He was astonished he managed not to outright whine when his hand didn't travel any lower. But he was refusing to let any indication surface of his awareness and willingness for what Grillby was doing to him.

"I'd give anything to hear what you really want right now, love." Grillby purred, his hand oh-so-gently tracing back and forth between his hips.

Sans had no idea what he wanted other than being touched.

"What if I just keep going until you…" he paused with a short chuckle, pressing a soft kiss to Sans' throat. "Wake up and tell me to stop?"

Fuck… please…

"Or would you even tell me to? After denying yourself for so long would you even be able to resist me?"

Sans was about to lose the fast-fading grasp on his stubborn restraint. There was such an easy out right in front of him. Grillby knew exactly what he was doing and he knew Sans was awake, too. He knew Sans could tell him to stop any time he wanted.

"No, that's a bit much, isn't it?" he breathed, lightly tracing his lips over Sans' throat. His hand very slowly started to retreat and it was taking every ounce of Sans' focus and self-control to not snatch his wrist and shove his hand back where it had been. Only lower.

"Fuck it, why not?" Grillby said mischievously as his hand suddenly dove into Sans' boxers and wrapped around his cock.

"OH! FF–!" Sans slapped a hand over his mouth as he shouted in shocked pleasure against his palm. He couldn't keep his sockets open as he devoted all his focus on not squirming as his dick twitched and his gut clenched tight in warning already.

"O-ohh, my God," Grillby shuddered in shock at Sans' sudden outburst. His fingers rolled over Sans' dick as his hand lazily stroked him.

"Hh-! Shit!" Sans hissed through his clenched teeth. He grabbed a handful of the sheets and groaned into the bed, his hips rocked once and he forced himself to immediately stop.

"Don't hold back, love…" Grillby snaked his other arm under Sans' chest and held him tight against his torso as he tangled their legs together for leverage and arched his hips against Sans' ass.

"Nngh!" Sans laid his hand over the one on his chest and pressed down harder, his other trailed down to the one around his cock. He wrapped his fingers around his loose grip and tightened around it. He was breathing harder, every other deep gasp hitching as he completely lost himself in the heat and pleasure enveloping him.

Grillby started to grind his body against Sans' and the skeleton shamelessly moaned, "Oh, ohh fuck… yesss..." He was done denying himself. He wanted this and he was sick of pretending he didn't. Especially when it felt so fucking good.

He arched his back letting, no, encouraging Grillby to grind his cock against his ass. Though it was infuriatingly at the wrong angle to slot between his cheeks because of their clothes. And because Grillby's closest hand was occupied and Sans wasn't releasing it. He wanted that divine heat stroking him more than he wanted Grillby's cock in the right spot.

He was suddenly reminded of his multiple, if not dozens of, vivid dreams of Grillby fucking him from behind like that. Of him using their comfortable height difference to curl entirely around him on their sides while he fucked him and stroked his dick faster than his harsh thrusts. 

"F-fuck…" He was nearly ready to ask for just that, the words dancing on his tongue knowing Grillby would gladly do it.

"Sa-Sans?" he made his name a question.

"What?!" Sans snapped, torn from the numbing cocoon of pleasure. His shaking voice only jerked him back to reality as Grillby's poise and charm shattered and bitterly reminded him he wasn't fantasizing, it was really happening. 

"Nngh! I–" Grillby choked out as he held him even closer, his hand reached up to Sans' shoulder across his chest. "I-I'm–!"

The hand on his dick started to falter and a sudden indignant fury scorched through Sans' veins. Was this fucker about to cum from just dry-humping him? What the fuck?!

"Sans, I–I… Can I–?"

"D-don't… you fucking dare!" Sans snarled, keeping his hand in place as he tried to pull it away. "Don't-! Don't stop!" He panted harshly, his skull rolling loosely back against Grillby's shoulder. He was so close, too close to get distracted by stupid fucking questions that prevented him from getting lost in what he wanted the moment to be. Just another fantasy.

Grillby gave a winded groan, tucking his forehead against Sans' spine. "C-can't… I… deos supra…" he whined. "Oh God, Sans... please...? I-I can s-still-"

"Sh-shut! Up!" he was so close, if Grillby would just stop talking they could both finish! He'd deal with the consequences later! God, he just wanted to cum… He just wanted Grillby to make him fucking cum.

"OH-! Shit!" Grillby moaned against his back, the hand around Sans' cock pulled free and grabbed his hip instead as he shuddered, grinding hard against Sans' ass. It angled his lower back higher and positioned Grillby's dick where he'd wanted it to be earlier, thrusting weakly right between his cheeks. The desperate grip that dug painfully into the sensitive swell of bone would have been wonderful if Sans hadn't just been unceremoniously yanked back to disappointing reality a split-second before he came!

"Are you fucking serious right now?!" Sans yelled, shoving his hands away from him. He sat up and twisted in the bed to glare at the other man.

Grillby was on his back with both hands covering his face as his chest heaved. "I-I'm sorry!" He shouted.

"Un-fucking-believeable!"

"I c-can, I can sti–"

"Fuck off! You–! What are you?! Sixteen?!" Sans shouted furiously. "What the FUCK?!"

"Sans, I am so sorry." Grillby told him with sincere regret as he pulled his hands from his face and sat up. "I–"

"Tch," Sans scoffed, standing by angrily shoving up from the bed. "What? You 'swear that's never happened before'?" he snidely asked.

"I can make it up to you, let me do that." Grillby offered, breathlessly sliding to the same side of the bed as Sans. He attempted a look between seductive and remorseful that Sans could tell was genuine. Which just made it worse somehow.

"Fuckin'..." Sans bitterly sighed, shaking his skull and dragging a hand down his face as he turned for the bathroom. "You fuckin' ruined it. Nevermind." He said with deep irritation before he slammed the door behind him.

*

Grillby stood outside Sans' door after hurriedly cleaning, changing, and brushing his teeth. He was hiding his face in his hands again as he tried to keep from sparking wildly in humiliation. It had just been too much. The edging early that morning after avoiding getting found-out by Papyrus. Waking up to Sans adjusting their bodies to get snug and close to him, Sans grinding slowly over his thigh with restrained breaths. Teasing Sans and getting such a strong reaction out of him immediately. A more intense reaction than he'd managed get from him that entire time.

God, the way it felt to hold Sans' body against his and thrust recklessly against his ass while he moaned so shamelessly, practically begging for him without words…

He just couldn't handle it.

But he needed to get over it. Sans was owed some kind of apology. He hoped it was sexual because that seemed fair, but he was willing to offer some kind of extra freedom if Sans wasn't interested after his lack of self-control. He probably didn't trust him not to do it again and ruin everything all over again. He sincerely hoped he hadn't just ruined his chances of ever touching Sans again.

Maybe they could smoke out on the porch or he could go for a resupply into town and grab things that Sans wanted? He could probably have Dora or Ina meet him halfway with supplies so he wasn't out for long. Probably Dora to be honest, his daughter had a terrible sense of direction and could never make it to the cabin or back to town on her own without getting lost. While Dora had never been to his cabin, he could tell her which direction to walk and she'd manage to find him.

He took a deep breath and dropped his hands, opening the unlocked door to Sans' room.

Grillby gasped as he was shoved against the wall by the door the moment he stepped inside. He stared down at Sans, mind blank and he struggled to understand if the predatory look in his sockets was benign or not. How badly had he pissed him off?

To his shocked, disbelieving delight, Sans jerked him lower with half-lidded sockets, his lopsided toothy grin doing all sorts of fun things to Grillby's insides. His scarlet pupils traced down his face, pausing at his parted lips before blinking and looking the other man directly in the eyes.

Grillby swallowed anxiously, pulled slightly off-balance to be face-level with the skeleton. His breathing hitched as Sans pulled him even closer, close enough to feel his cool sigh against his lips. His white eyes flickered before closing in anticipation, brow furrowing as he struggled to control himself.

He lightly gasped in surprise as Sans shoved him to his knees in front of him. The grip on his shoulders turned painful and made his gut twist, his breaths suddenly frantic as he stared up at Sans' cocky smirk.

Sans slowly released his shoulders, one hand tracing delicately up his throat to the edge of his chin to tip it slightly higher. Grillby shamelessly shuddered, mouth parting with a dazed look in his eyes. Sans definitely liked seeing the intense effect his actions had on Grillby if his praise from early that morning on his couch was anything to go by, so the elemental leaned into it, not holding back. He couldn't help glancing at Sans' crotch, doing a double-take as the skeleton palmed his dick just inches from his face.

"O-oh…" Grillby breathed, stunned.

"Shh…" Sans softly shut his mouth with a gentle nudge of his finger. He blinked sedately down at him, tilting his skull as he slipped his hand under his chin. "Stay just like that for me,"

Grillby eagerly nodded.

"Good boy…"

Grillby visibly stiffened at the sultry growl in Sans' voice, eyes going wide.

Sans chuckled, his baritone rough as he slipped his other hand higher, catching the waistband of his sweatpants with his thumb.

Grillby's breath hitched, swallowing as his throat went dry. He had several fantastic ideas for fixing that problem though… He couldn't tear his gaze away from Sans' crotch as he slowly revealed his erect red cock. A soft whimper left him when Sans gently gripped himself and started to pump his hand.

Sans' skull rolled slightly back with a quiet moan, breath catching as he kept his agonizingly slow pace.

"I-I can, I ca–"

"Shh," Sans said again, more firmly that time, giving his chin a soft shake to interrupt him.

Grillby closed his eyes, taking a quick breath to steady himself. What was Sans planning? He was selfishly more than willing to apologize like this if he would just let him!

Sans stared down at him as his breathing picked up, though the pace of his strokes stayed the same.

Oh God, was Sans going to cum on his face?! Grillby tensed at the thought, swallowing anxiously.

"Open your mouth," Sans sighed, brushing his thumb over his lips.

Grillby obeyed. Oh fuck!

"Tongue out…" Sans added with a smug, breathless grin.

Holy shit, holy SHIT?!

Grillby's eyes flickered again, struggling not to whine as he stuck out his tongue. Was he going to get to taste him finally? He'd been mentally kicking himself for not taking the opportunity to do that their first morning together and it had been driving him insane. Well… more than he already was.

"That's it, sweetheart…"

"Nngh," Grillby couldn't stop the noise escaping, his hands balled into fists so tight around his own jeans the denim was beginning to smoke. His breathing picked up with Sans', desperately, silently urging the other man to his climax.

Sans gasped, the hand on Grillby's chin suddenly reaching for the wall to brace himself with a long groan through his gritted teeth as his other hand visibly faltered.

Grillby stared up at him, eagerly waiting for that beautiful, angelic sound of Sans' end. To finally taste Sans' magic-laced cum. To his confusion, Sans stopped stroking his cock with a breathless chuckle.

Grillby glanced at his dick, mouth immediately watering at the sight with another uncontrolled shiver. Precum was dripping from the tip, his shaft pulsing weakly, literal millimeters from his tongue. He began to shake softly with restraint, whining when Sans put his palm on his forehead to keep from leaning closer.

With an arrogant sigh, Sans pulled his hand from the wall and hiked his pants back up, leaving Grillby even more confused than before.

Sans stood upright, looking down at Grillby for a few breaths. The elemental's brow furrowed, baffled, tongue still outstretched. He knew he probably looked ridiculous, but it was what Sans wanted, so he stayed put.

Sans scoffed once, carefully pulling Grillby's mouth closed.

"Wh-?"

"Shh, baby-doll." Sans purred, broadly smiling at sending yet another shudder through the other man. He carefully wrapped his hand around the collar of Grillby's shirt. He pulled gently up until the other man got the hint and slowly rose to his feet.

Sans ran the palm of his hand up Grillby's throat, dragging his thumb across his jaw as his other hand traced up the back of his neck into the flames on his head. Grillby moaned when Sans harshly grabbed a fistful of his flames and jerked him backward, just enough to fully expose his neck. The skeleton stood on his toes and sighed purposely over his throat, barely brushing his sharp teeth over his sparking skin.

"You'd let me do anything to you, wouldn't you?" He breathed huskily against his jaw.

"Ye-"

"Shut up," Sans snarled, shaking him roughly by his flames.

"Nng-"

"Shut. Up." Sans repeated in a vicious whisper, tightening his grip with another rough shake. He gave a satisfied chuckle when Grillby choked down another sound at the edge of his lips, his voice rough and purring in approval once more. "That's it…"

Grillby's trembling hands started to reach for Sans just before he was released all at once.

He teetered, breathing hard as he once more struggled with his deep confusion. Before he could begin to understand what just happened, Sans shoved him through the door and kicked it shut. 

The elemental staggered a few steps backward from the hard shove, though he caught the smug smirk from Sans before he shut the door. His soul pounded harshly, magic pulsed frantically through his veins. Heat burned in his gut and face as he looked down intensely at the floor, like it could give him answers. After several stunned moments passed he lifted his eyes to Sans' door and in a daze he traced his bottom lip with his fingers, eyes flickering before shutting with a shaking sigh as he vividly recalled Sans running his calloused thumb over his lips.

His hands dropped to his sides and he walked on extremely unsteady legs to his room. Where, even though he'd just came less than fifteen minutes ago, he couldn't help leaning back against the door and going again. The last orgasm had been ruined for both of them by his inability to hold himself back and he didn't get to fully enjoy the fact that Sans had been willing from the moment Grillby woke up. Demanding that he didn't stop. And then, idiotic asshole that he was, he did just that.

"Goddamnit, the hell is wrong with me?" he growled at himself furiously as he shoved his waistband lower to give him more freedom to move. "Couldn't hh-hold on for t-two fucking seconds?" 

Though he knew exactly what did it. It had been the combination of shock overtaking his control and then Sans snapping so furiously at him to 'shut up'. In fact, just remembering that and then it immediately entangling with the other harsh commands from the skeleton made him lose it once more. Embarrassingly fast.

He groaned, open-mouthed and stunned as he curled forward for a surprisingly intense orgasm.

Breathing hard, he leaned back against his door once more, nerves tingling pleasantly as a short pang of embarrassment darted through his chest. 

He'd had way more restraint that morning with Sans relentlessly teasing him as well as when he was given free rein from Sans for nearly ten minutes. Because yes, he double-checked and Sans had let him go for twice as long as he said he could. Had he just drained his well of self-control? He didn't foresee it having a chance to refill any time soon if Sans was going to continue the way he'd been for the past six hours.

*

Sans braced his arm on the wall by the door, sockets closed as he tried to catch his breath. Yeah, that short reassertion of their power dynamic tipping back in Sans' favor was what he needed to finally relax enough to get close to finishing again. But he couldn't let Grillby know that.

He pushed away from the wall and made his way to the bathroom where he'd just tried and failed to get himself off after the deeply unsatisfying end to their 'activities' earlier. He couldn't stop thinking about how close he'd been before Grillby fucked it up with his desperation overriding his self-control.

He'd decided he wanted to see just how desperate Grillby was for him and he got his answer.

He shut the bathroom door behind him and was too distracted to even be upset it didn't have a lock. Breathless already, he used his right hand to brace against the counter and shoved his sweatpants out of the way. He cussed quietly into his shoulder, turning his face to attempt muffling himself when his body tensed as he started stroking himself.

While he could begrudgingly understand Grillby's eagerness to finish and inability to stop himself before he did, it still pissed him off. After all, the man had shown some impressive restraint before they went to sleep. He discovered that while he got a serious kick out of pushing his buttons and then backing off—just like Grillby had done to him at the beginning—he also wanted Grillby to be assertive and controlling, too. Concerningly dominating. The elemental had just gone and ruined it by letting that honest desperation he still had break through and it derailed Sans' entire train of thought.

He shook his skull, driving that bitter disappointment from his mind. He groaned as he concentrated on a few minutes ago. Grillby on his knees in front of him, obediently waiting and trembling with want as he stroked himself only an inch away from his open mouth. So focused on him he probably didn't notice his own white-hot grip over his pants was starting to burn through the thick denim.

"God… nngh," he thought of what it'd be like to grab his flames and hold him in place as he came on his eager face with his tongue still obediently outstretched. What it'd be like to drive into his hot mouth and cum down his throat. He imagined it was hotter than his ass had been. Soft, and lush, and wet. He'd know what to do, too, considering his past profession. And it would shut him up for at least five minutes so Sans could concentrate.

"Fuck-!" he fought to keep his voice down, but his mind was spiraling as he started to breathe harder. His arm shook where it kept him upright as he leaned over, his knees felt weak as a shot of pleasure raced down his legs.

He remembered the feel of Grillby's hand around his hip, the strength in the arm that held him tight across his chest. The heated sighs and groans against his spine.

"O-oh, ohmygod!" He suddenly gasped. He grit his teeth, he wasn't going to finish with that being the final thought that pushed him over the edge. He wasn't… going to imagine what it'd feel like to have had Grillby's cock buried deep as he was harshly jerked back against him, filling him with heat over and over as he growled against his throat for him to stay in place… He could hear his voice in his mind, low and rough and commanding. "...be good for me, cum when I do, love…" 

Oh fuck! Yes he was!

"Fffuck! Gri–mmph!" He snapped his jaw shut as he came at the idea of feeling—to his shame, quite vividly—Grillby spill inside him. Filling him with what he knew was hot, pleasantly sparking cum as he'd felt it paint his stomach and chest the first morning he woke up in the cabin. And he'd distantly felt the heat of it again against his lower back earlier, too. He brokenly moaned, pupils rolling back as his body trembled with want he'd never felt so intensely before. He struggled to stay on his feet as he weakly stroked himself until he went soft in his hand.

Bewildering satisfaction rushed through his veins as he fought to catch his breath.

What the fuck was that about?!

*

When Sans went downstairs after his confusingly satisfying orgasm, he found Grillby already cooking. Sensing he wasn't ready to talk yet, Sans curiously watched Grillby make breakfast in the kitchen from the dining room table. Flashes of the past hours tumbled rapidly in his mind as he closely watched every smooth step and sway, his dexterous hands making quick work of the vegetables he was adding to the pan. He couldn't help remembering every heated brush of his hands over his skin and how he longed for more of it...

Grillby cast him a few shy smiles from the ardent attention. Once Sans noticed he of course started to ham it up.

He folded a hand under his chin and smiled as he leaned against it, keeping eye-contact when Grillby started to glance at him more, blushing a little deeper each time he met his gaze. Grillby curled his lips under his teeth to poorly hide his broadly growing smile.

Grillby cleared his throat, turning to start plating the food. "See something you like?" He asked playfully without turning.

"Mmhm," Sans replied, inwardly shocked at how genuine it felt. He shook off the surprise in time to see a barely perceptible shiver travel down Grillby's spine.

Damn. He did enjoy doing that, just in general. After so many years barely even seeing Grillby laugh, it was taking some adjustment to seeing him so open and emotional. It was starting to feel more and more natural to react off-the-cuff with the other man and he wasn't sure how to process that fact. He was still angling for a chance at escape, but after earlier it was starting to blur what he was trying to accomplish with his interactions.

Did he want control, or did he want it taken from him?

No... he was right. He didn't know what he wanted from Grillby at that point. What the fuck was that about?

Grillby cleared his throat before picking up their plates and bringing them to the table.

After an awkwardly quiet breakfast where they both tried and failed to make small-talk, Sans grabbed the empty plates before Grillby could and took them to the kitchen, loading them in the compact dishwasher. Sans jolted, standing upright when he felt a warm hand trail up his spine as he bent to close the dishwasher.

"Whoa," Grillby breathed in quiet surprise as Sans tried to regain his composure without letting-on what that simple touch had done to him. "I was just going to say thank you for doing that."

"It's uh," Sans cleared his throat, shaking his skull. "It's fi-fine, I handle the dishes at home so this is nothin'." his forced chuckle betrayed his emotions as his voice cracked, but he pressed on regardless. "Better than doin' 'em by hand like I usually do." 

"Well, still." Grillby softly insisted, and Sans could hear the gentle smile in his tone. "It's nice to have some help."

Sans nodded, still unsure of turning around. 

"Can I…? Um, can I-?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Sans nodded again, hating that he noticed Grillby's sudden hesitancy wasn't pissing him off anymore. It was doing the opposite.

Grillby snorted. "You don't even know what I want to do."

"Whatever it is, um, g-go for it." Sans shrugged. "Fuck it, surprise me."

Yup. He was weirdly into the idea of trusting the elemental with more control over him, but before he could think about that Grillby sighed against the back of his neck. "Hm, if you say so love…"

Air hissed through Sans' teeth, his sockets going wide. He felt Grillby's hands slide to his hips and dig his fingers in. "Mmn," Sans stiffened at the sound he made. Grillby gave a rough, rumbling chuckle near his jaw before he suddenly jerked hard on Sans' hips, bringing him in tight against him.

Sans gasped, softly panting after, his thoughts spinning until he realized Grillby’s dick was against the middle of his back. How had he not noticed how big Grillby was? In every sense of the word. Even soft like he was now, though probably not for long if he stayed there. (Sans either if he was honest.) For one thing, damn, he'd jerked the guy off their first morning together, had him grinding against his ass earlier, all but had their cocks against each other being only separated by thin layers of clothes, and somehow hadn't noticed how big his dick was? For another, he easily outweighed him in muscle alone by what, forty-fifty pounds? More? And most obviously he was at least eight inches taller than him, making his reach much longer.

Not to mention how fucking smart and observant he was. What could he do to Sans in bed if he let him have control? Or if he convinced him to just take it from him?

Goddamn what was up with him and control that morning?!

"Uh," Sans cleared his throat again, swallowing hard. "W-well that's uh, phew, that's sure a thing, huh?" He asked with a forced laugh.

"It sure is…" Grillby purred, tracing his lips across his throat, sighing against the bruised hickies he'd left behind. He softly pulled Sans even closer, rolling his body against him. Making it obvious he was ready and willing to do more.

"I, uh, wh-? Nngh," Sans slapped a hand over his mouth like that could take back the sound he'd just made, sockets wide as heat flushed his face. And lower.

Grillby stroked his thumbs over Sans' hips and he had to close his sockets again as he realized his hands spanned nearly half the width of his torso. And he knew first hand (heh) how strong his grip was. He'd been surprised, and honestly a little disappointed, he didn't have a bruise on his hip when he checked before he came downstairs.

How easily he'd be able to hold him in place while he…

Sans blinked hard to halt that fast-forming fantasy in its tracks before it got too carried away.

Grillby softly kissed the top of his skull. "Let's put a pin in that, hm?" He said, releasing Sans from his gentle teasing and turning away from the kitchen.

*

"I got a question, Grillbs." Sans said after he took a few minutes to clean up the kitchen, for no other reason than to show his gratitude for Grillby always cooking for him. Nevermind that he had only had the opportunity to clean up maybe six or seven times in as many days. And nevermind that he couldn't shove down the flashing images of Grillby so, so very easily pinning him down and working that toned, muscular body over him…

"Mm?" Grillby hummed in acknowledgment, comfortable enough to not even consider Sans would ask the obvious question. He'd taken a seat on the couch and pulled out the dwindling pack of cigarettes. He threw his arm over the spine of the couch and balanced his left ankle on his right knee and Sans had to stop a few seconds to remember how to brain correctly again. Lounging so easily, quirking a white eye playfully at him as he sighed a lungful of smoke. Fucking hell… why did he have to be a psychopath? Why couldn't he have just been fucking normal?!

"U-uh," Sans shook his skull, shutting his sockets to concentrate.

"Want to split one?" Grillby offered.

"Wha?" Sans dumbly asked, looking back at him, confused. Not sure what he meant and already willing to hear him out.

Grillby shut his eyes, looking away and biting his lip to avoid making a face and embarrassing the skeleton, something Sans appreciated as his mind was too scrambled to think clearly for several more seconds. He was composed when he turned back to Sans, holding out the cigarette he'd just lit.

"Not many left and it's the last pack, want to split it?"

Sans blinked at his hand before coming back to reality and nodding, taking the cigarette and sliding past Grillby to sit on the other end of the couch. A reasonably safe distance. He hoped.

"What did you want to ask?" Grillby prompted after Sans took a surprisingly deep drag of smoke.

Sans stopped himself before he dumbly made another weird sound. He looked away as he handed the cigarette back out for him. He'd forgotten what he was going to say and mentally sprinted for something reasonably believeable to ask.

"L-last pack?" Sans asked with a lungful of smoke. He could feel Grillby's skeptical curiosity radiating from him, his gaze burning into him as he focused on staying as casual as he could manage. Which wasn't very casual at all.

"Yeah," Grillby eventually replied with a deep sigh, Sans could feel his face burn as he caught the sight of smoke drifting near his face at the edge of his vision. "But I don't think that's what your question was, my love."

"We c-could probably go into town to get more, ri-right?" he nervously suggested, turning his face completely. He massaged the back of his neck when Grillby was silent, grimacing when he rubbed the bites he'd left on the side of his throat and not even recognizing the metal collar when his wrist brushed it. "I mean uh, wouldn't mind some of my own clothes to wear for a bit either…" he added quietly. Maybe if he reasoned with him that there were multiple things to do in SnowdIn, he'd overlook the most obvious one.

"Take it," Grillby told him after a few moments of strained silence. 

Sans hesitantly turned his skull to look at him. Grillby had his arm extended toward him, holding out the half-finished cigarette. He wasn't looking at him, sitting on the edge of the cushion with his other hand braced on the arm of the couch, about to stand. When Sans didn't move he set the cigarette on one of the notches of the ashtray and stood, walking to the front door.

Sans watched as he shrugged into a coat and slid on a pair of boots, heart in his throat. Was Grillby actually going to take him back to civilization?! Was just that morning enough to convince him?!

Grillby tossed Sans his coat and gestured to his sneakers on the second shelf of the shoe rack with a crooked grin. "We don't need to go to town, this'll be quicker."

Sans was flooded with mixed relief. He was finally going to go outside! He wasn't going into town, he knew what Grillby was suggesting, but fuck it was something!

The door unlocked while Sans had his back turned getting his shoes on. He glanced sharply at Grillby, catching him slipping something into his pocket as he pulled the door open without looking back at him.

He resisted the urge to sigh in disappointment, but it didn't take much on his part. Grillby pulled the door open completely and Sans got his first lungful of fresh, icy air in over a week.

He slowly stood, eyeing Grillby a little nervously, looking for any indication he was going to snatch this relatively small slice of freedom from him. Even though the elemental hadn't offered something this big and then gone back on it yet (Like removing the chain and only very briefly returning to it after their fight, or leaving his door unlocked from the outside. Both of which meant he could do nearly everything he wanted without Grillby's constant hovering), he was still suspicious. He'd been in a similar situation growing up, only without a collar, and constantly had things so important to his own freedom viciously jerked away when they were within his grasp.

With a surprisingly warm smile, Grillby gestured with a quick tilt of his head toward the porch for Sans to go out ahead of him. He even took two steps away from the door, putting it out of his immediate reach.

Heart pounding, Sans only refrained from sprinting outside because his knees were suddenly weak with relief. 

Once he was several steps away from the door, down the front stairs and in the snow, he turned to see where Grillby was to make sure he wasn't going to be caught and dragged back inside. Seeing Grillby standing in front of the door as he closed it and waiting, Sans closed his sockets and took several more steps back. 

He sighed at the sound of snow crunching under his shoes. Compacting just slightly before he sank a half-inch to the ground. The cold air burned in his lungs, familiar and dearly missed and harsher than he expected but he didn't care. He'd been breathing stale, warm air for weeks by that point and fuck had he missed the smell of the wet, icy air outside. 

A frosty breeze swirled around him, snowflakes kicked up from the ground and hit his face. He smiled with his sockets still closed, reveling in the stark cold. He opened his sockets with a peaceful smile. His gaze landed on Grillby standing at the top of the stairs and a confusing mess of emotions tangled knots in his soul.

He couldn't deny he loved the other

(Yeah, nope, he wasn't touching that one.)

He couldn't deny he loved the look on the other man's face. Smiling weakly but genuinely back at him, no hint of anything sinister in his expression. But his own relief and excitement and ease was quickly dampened by the reality of the situation. He was only outside because Grillby was letting him outside. He was still going to be expected to return. There was no where to run anyway, so he didn't have a choice regardless.

And he still wasn't allowed the freedom to talk to Papyrus.

Grillby started down the stairs and Sans sighed deeply, pushing down most of his complicated emotions to deal with later. He was outside and he should probably enjoy it while he could and in a way that wouldn't make Grillby suspicious so he could convince him to do it again.

Grillby gave him a conflicted smile as he walked closer, also obviously struggling with the complexity of the situation.

Sans took a quick breath and lifted his gaze, taking the chance to finally see the outside of the cabin. His sockets widened in surprise and he took several steps back without thinking, trying to see all of it clearly.

It was gorgeous.  

The entire first floor was huge, rounded and smooth river stone with dark SnowdIn pine holding up the large front porch on either side. The second floor was entirely pine with the downstairs fireplace snugly hugging the logs before it stood above the sloping roof.

"What's up?" Grillby asked.

Sans gestured to the cabin and looked at the other man.

Grillby chuckled warmly. "Like it?" he asked proudly, stepping closer.

"Dude, fuckin' duh."

Grillby laughed followed by a wistful kind of sigh.

"And you did all that yourself?"  

Grillby nodded. "Yeah," he cast Sans a broad smile as he looked back at it over his shoulder.

Before Sans could ask anymore questions, Grillby asked as he started toward the trees, "So have you rolled your own before?" He was trying his best to enjoy the peace on Sans' face as he breathed deeply, but anxiety was twisting tight in his gut. Intensely enough that it was making him feel sick to his stomach.

"Pff, you kidding me?" Sans asked as he turned, walking easily at Grillby's side."Every kid in SnowdIn knows how to do this."

Grillby was on edge, but remembered to at least scoff with a smirk at the comment. He gestured for Sans to go ahead. "Since you have more experience than me, you find a good one."

Sans chuckled, walking straight into the tree line with Grillby close behind. "Uh, been a while since I've done it. But can't be that hard to remember, right?" he said with a quick smile over his shoulder. "Wait, you've lived here for ages and you haven't done this?" he asked, slowing to a stop with a skeptical frown.

"Why would I?" Grillby shrugged as he stepped around a pine to stay within arms reach of Sans. "When I can just buy them instead? I didn't really have luck managing myself when I tried, anyway."

"You didn't have the motivation of a kid trying to get away with somethin'." Sans tossed back playfully as he came to a stop in front of a black pine, his skull tipped up as he stepped backward to inspect it before he shook his skull and moved on.

"What are we looking for? Something specific I assume?" Grillby asked, only glancing up at the trees out of curiosity as Sans searched. He couldn't bear to keep his gaze from Sans for longer than a split-second.

"Younger tree, low branches, uh… dark green needles…" He faded out as he turned slowly on the spot, stepping just into the trees. 

Grillby matched him step-for-step, his longer stride bringing him closer without realizing it as he noticed they were getting further from the sight of the front door while still staying inside the tree line. He wasn't sure he could handle much more distance from the cabin without a panic attack. He reached for Sans' arm to stop him when he suddenly stopped himself.

Sans pointed up, glancing over his shoulder with a grin and in spite of himself, Grillby looked up. 

"It… looks like a tree." Grillby told him flatly.

Sans snorted, "No shit," he rolled his pupils.

"I-I meant, it doesn't look any different than the others." Grillby replied a little testier than he expected.

Sans shrugged, not seeming to mind or notice his tone. "Did this for nearly ten years, I'll show you the difference in a second. Grab that one there," he pointed to a branch a few feet above Grillby's head.

"And do what?"

"Break it off, genius." Sans snickered. "You can reach it, I can't. And I'm too fucking old to be climbing a damn tree."

"Ah," Grillby realized he was getting too panicky to think clearly. "Oh what, and I'm not?" he shot back with a smile as Sans' words sank in.

"Tch, you actually work-out. You think I ever even walked into a gym after I left high school?"

Grillby scoffed. "You think I go to the gym?" before Sans could answer he countered, "You don't walk period if you can avoid it." He reached up curiously and frowned when he was just a few inches short of grabbing the branch.

"Ex-exactly," Sans replied. "Plus, I'm not askin' you to climb it, just to pull down a branch I can't rea…"

He rose to his toes while Sans was talking, looking down as he stretched his arm up and just barely brushed the rough bark, his loose t-shirt and coat rising over his hips. Without thinking Grillby jumped up and grabbed the branch near the trunk. Toes barely brushing the pine needles below, he hung for a moment by one hand. He expected the branch to break under his weight and frowned. With a short huff he reached up with his other hand and felt the icy breeze on his exposed bare skin where the waist of his jeans had slid lower from his quick jump. He pulled himself up until he was eye-level with the branch and then dropped his weight suddenly.

The branch bounced, bending before it snapped with another sharp tug as the ball of his foot touched down. He barely managed not to fall back on his ass, but he got it.

"Ha," Grillby said with a small triumphant nod. He started to hold out the branch for Sans to inspect and paused. Sans was staring back at him with the faintest blush on his cheekbones, his shining red pupils darted quickly over him. He recovered and took the branch from Grillby, clearing his throat quickly as he tested the bend of wood.

"Uh, y-yeah. This'll work." he handed it back to Grillby without looking at him. "Get the needles off, but not the bark."

"Isn't getting the bark off the whole point?" Grillby questioned as he burned off the extra branches and needles with one quick swipe of his hand.

"You don't want to burn it, you uh, you want the inside to stay flexible."

"Good?" Grillby asked, showing him the branch.

"Ye-yeah, um, c'mon." Sans nodded, putting his hands in his coat pockets as he started to cross the small clearing toward the cabin.

*

Sans sat on the cool hearth in front of the fireplace downstairs, carefully peeling the rougher outer-bark from the branch they brought inside. He occasionally swiped the stripped bark into the fireplace as he went.

He'd left his shoes and coat at the door and Grillby brought him a knife, a nice knife to get the job done. He couldn't remember the name of the design, but the blade had a distinct swirling pattern of soft waves of light and dark grays. The handle was black pine and the blade was sharp enough to barely need a gentle flick of his wrist to remove the bark. It felt like he was practically just brushing the top layers off.

He couldn't help his mind continuously wandering to the extremely tame image of Grillby's exposed hips and lower abs, the elastic of his boxers rising over the waistband of his jeans as his shirt lifted with his arms outstretched above him. The other man totally oblivious to what it had done to him. God, why was that distracting him so much? He'd seen and even kissed his bare torso only hours ago and that was making his heart race? Just one several inch stretch of muscle and skin? And the prominent scar on his lower stomach, curving slightly as it carved down beneath his waistband... That coupled with watching him just casually rip a branch off without even being fully on the ground was apparently doing it for him.

He shook his skull, driving the images away. He needed to focus intently to avoid accidentally hurting himself, an idea that brought a nearly-forgotten urge to the surface. He paused, hand lightly shaking as he glanced at the still-visible chips missing from his radial bones and the nearly faded pale pink lines that overlaid them perfectly. He took a slow, quiet breath in, held it for several seconds and then slowly exhaled. His tense muscles eased just slightly and his heart settled enough to let the urge to feel the blade bite into his skin gradually fade away.

He'd learned that stupid fucking breathing technique years ago in a mental rehab and still hated that it worked so well.

He returned to removing the outer bark and calmed enough to reason that he was stressed, the whole situation he was trapped in was fucked-up and he was acting in ways he never thought he'd be or even willing to admit to himself. Of course he'd want to fall back on one of his earliest coping skills as a way to manage. He shouldn't feel bad about it. Or guilty. But he did. He'd made a promise to his brother that he intended to keep and didn't like how easily the urge to make himself bleed kept creeping back up on him over the years.

Sans barely noticed Grillby had stopped to look at him, only seeing him from the edge of his vision as he methodically worked. He wanted the distraction and took it, devoting all of his attention to the branch and the knife. He relaxed as he remembered the familiar motions and made sure he still knew all the steps to roll their own cigarettes. Once the outer bark was gone, he'd need to start stripping down the dark inner bark all the way to the far edge of the sapwood, where the ambient magic still flowed and the inside of the wood was still flexible and soft. The strips would need to be as even as possible to make it easier to roll them into a tight spiral with the bark on the inside and the sapwood on the outside. They'd probably get between two or three dozen from that branch, enough to give Sans more time to convince Grillby to take him into town for more.

He paused as he realized he'd need to ask Grillby for some kind of baking sheet for them to dry on.

He nearly started again but waited as he heard the sound of a heavy lock turning. He looked up. Grillby wasn't by the front door that was still cracked open a few inches. He watched as the elemental walked by from behind the stairs and wind flowed through the first floor, pushing the front door open wider. Grillby continued to the kitchen and Sans watched him from beyond the breakfast bar with sockets raised in shock as he stopped in front of the kitchen door. His jaw actually dropped as he heard the same loud clack of the door unlocking and Grillby cracked it open, too.

Sans stared blankly at Grillby when he walked back into the main room, crossing to the fireplace. He remembered to shut his mouth before Grillby sat down across from him and gestured to Sans' hands.

"So, show me how a SnowdIn kid does this." Grillby said with a crooked smile.

Chapter Text

(Day Fourteen)

Grillby was a little suspicious, but mostly curious, when he heard Sans' voice through the open app on his tablet where it sat propped up on his kitchen counter. A casual call of, "Whatcha up to down there?" 

He had the camera app taking up the upper corner of his screen while reading a new recipe from a digital cookbook as he made dinner. He was running out of actual meals to make and needed to scour his recipes for something he could still manage with the ingredients he had left. He was nearly to the point of relying only on canned ingredients which, while he stockpiled things for emergencies, the idea of actually eating any of it was unappetizing.

He hadn't done more than glance at the screen a few times when he saw movement to double-check on Sans who had slipped upstairs for a 'quick nap' before dinner. And apparently he missed some important movements.

What he saw made him drop the spatula in his hand, it bounced against the side of the pan before tumbling to the floor. Not for the first or even hundredth time since Sans had arrived, his eyes went wide with desire. He took a trembling breath as he tapped the tablet to make the live video take up the entire screen.

Sans was laying on his back on the bed, completely naked and stroking himself. "Hope I got your attention, baby-doll…" He sighed, lazily pumping his hand. "Cause if not, well, it's your loss I guess." He said with a shrug.

Grillby gulped, lifting the tablet to get a better view. It took him several seconds to push the mic button to speak back to him. "You certainly have my attention, Sans."

"Heh, mm… Good." Sans remarked before his skull leaned back against the bed with a low groan. "Nngh, hh-hah, fuck." 

Grillby instantly realized Sans was putting on a show. For him. Again. He didn't care if it wasn't entirely real, this was still Sans consciously making an effort to put on a show. For him. For whatever fucking reason Sans had decided to do so willingly and he was going to eat up every second of it.

"Mmnngh, what d'ya think? Faster or slower?"

Grillby's knees went weak. "Ff-faster…" He replied.

Sans licked his teeth, shoulders pressing into the bed. To Grillby's shock, he listened, his hand moving faster as his sockets scrunched in pleasure. 

"O-oh, oh God," Grillby breathed, grateful the mic only worked with his thumb over it.

"Ah, shit, heh… b-been a while. Nngh! Last one was after you got 'too excited', made me have to go take care of myself, you prick. Was… th-that the last one for you, too?"

Grillby breathlessly, and a little guiltily, shook his head, pulling the tablet closer. The last time had been that morning before Sans had even woken up.

"Or you been-nnngh! Watchin' me still? Fuckin' perv." Sans chuckled, closing his sockets with another low moan of relief.

Grillby scoffed in spite of everything. "Oh, if you only knew, love…" If Sans only knew that the only reason he could maintain a shred of dignity around him was because he was starting and ending the days by watching Sans in his room and getting-off in his own room while getting ready for the day or for bed. It was the only thing that could keep his thoughts even halfway clear around the skeleton. Especially considering Sans hadn't let him sleep in his bed after his spectacular failure to control himself several mornings ago.

Not that he hadn't taunted him about it dozens of times over the past few days.

Just as Grillby's hand unconsciously slid down his body, Sans suddenly raised his voice without stopping. "No touching yourself, got it?"

Grillby whined, biting his lips. He wanted to chase this pleasure with Sans, not alone in his room after the fact, but right now. In the moment.

"I'll stop if you don't tell me you got that." Sans told him, his hand pulling away from his lap.

Grillby tightly shut his eyes, gathering his willpower. After a deep breath he held down the mic and said, "Yeah, I g-got that."

"Good," Sans replied, immediately picking up from the same pace as before. A genuine gasp shuddered from his teeth, his free hand quickly reached up to snatch desperately at his pillow. "Ffffuck!" He moaned.

"Wh-what nngh-now? H-huh?" Sans asked breathlessly, struggling to bring his pupils to the camera directly across from the bed near the ceiling.

When there was no reply, Sans added. "C-c'mon, tell me." He sighed. "Tell… tell me…"

"Twist… your nipples."

"Mm, you got it." Sans agreed with a short chuckle, he groaned through his tightly clenched teeth as his hand and then fingers found the right spot. "Nnngh! Shiiit!"

Grillby gripped the tablet case ferociously, eyes hungrily watching Sans' every move, every twitch, every heavy breath.

"A-anythi-thing else?" Sans questioned breathlessly after a few harsh grunts where his hand faltered a few times.

Grillby struggled to speak, his voice cracking. Suddenly nearly seven years of fantasies just like the current scene in front of him fled from his brain and he almost couldn't pick something.

"L-lick your fingers, put… put them in your mouth."

Sans laughed dryly before putting the middle fingers of his right hand in his mouth. The pace of his hand returned without breaking. Grillby tucked that tidbit into his minds ever-growing knowledge of Sans' pressure points. Sensitive nipples. Though distantly he realized, they might be hard to find. He hadn't even considered Sans had them before he told him to do that. 

That might have been awkward.

When Grillby was certain Sans was worked-up enough and his fingers were slick enough, he confidently told him, "Put your fingers in your ass." He needed to know if Sans was potentially willing to switch roles at some point with sex.

"Get up here first." Sans replied.

Grillby dropped the tablet and practically sprinted toward the stairs to Sans' room. He took three steps then spun back to the kitchen, turning off the stovetop and jerking off his apron as he manically rushed to the second floor. He was half-surprised Sans was still going. He'd nearly suspected he would stop by the time he got there considering all the teasing that had been happening on Sans' part the past few days. Leaning against his back while he wasn't paying attention, his hands sliding over his waist and down to his hips. Tauntingly licking his teeth more than once after making eye-contact for any number of reasons. Shoving him roughly against a wall, his hand on his chest as he smirked up at him before stepping away entirely to do something else.

"Come 'ere," Sans' voice was breathy with passion, his hand still working valiantly.

Grillby slowly approached him, staring down at the display of Sans groaning and shifting naked in bed below him.

"G-get on top a me, clothes stay on, yeah?"

Grillby gulped before nodding. He cautiously sank one knee to the bed near Sans' hip. "No touchin', otherwise I ca-can't keep goin'."

Biting back a whine, Grillby nodded again. He carefully crawled onto the bed, bracing his body over Sans. His knees beside his hips, his arms locked near Sans' shoulders. He brought his gaze up Sans' body from his lap to his breathless face. Grillby's hands clenched tight around the sheet beneath them. Sans had sweat beading on his forehead, he was panting so heavily his breath was hitting Grillby's face.

"Get me wet, Grillbs?"

"Oh, fuck…" Grillby half-moaned, half-sighed, ducking his chin to his chest to compose himself. When he lifted his face again, Sans had a socket quirked and wiggled his right-hand fingers playfully at him.

Breathing harder than was probably healthy, Grillby wrapped his lips around Sans' fingers, not breaking eye-contact as he gently sucked them deeper into his mouth.

"Mmm, mmhm, ke-keep goin'." Sans nodded encouragingly.

Grillby’s eyes flickered for a second before he rolled his tongue against Sans' fingers, slightly bobbing his head from sheer reflex.

Sans' sockets closed, his body involuntarily jerking once with a strangled sound.

Grillby hummed with a weak, but confident smile.

Sans barely opened his sockets to watch, biting his bottom lip as he began to tremble under him. 

Grillby put more effort into it, deciding to show Sans what he could do to his dick if he only asked. He pulled him in to his knuckles and swallowed around them, pressing his tongue against his fingers in a teasing circle with a short growl and his eyes half-lidded.

"Fuck, fuck, fffuck!" Sans pulled his hand abruptly from Grillby's mouth and dove to his lap. Grillby almost didn't realize what was happening in time to see it. He was immediately torn between watching both of Sans' hands working at the same time, one inside him and one frantically jerking his cock. Or watching Sans' face as it twisted in ecstasy. His gaze darted between both, neither enough to satiate his desperate, carnal need for the skeleton beneath him. He was whimpering and trembling by the time Sans fell limp to the bed, his translucent stomach painted lightly with red-tinted cum.

A satisfied, dozy smile lit up Sans' face. Pure serenity in his sockets as he breathlessly stared up at Grillby, softening the hard edges of his deeply dissatisfied passion. How could he need more when he helped cause that gorgeous, blissful expression…?

After a few moments, Sans sighed contently, adjusting more comfortably beneath Grillby. His fuzzy pupils drifted slowly over Grillby's tense, slightly shaking frame.

Correctly sensing he had Grillby in the palm of his hand, he decided to offer something up in hopes of getting on his good side.

"You can get a fifteen second kiss, or you can sleep with me in here again tonight. Which do you want?"

"You!" Grillby almost immediately blurted without thinking. "Both, fuck, both. Please, please Sans."

Sans threw his skull back with a loud, sincere laugh. When he recovered he lightly draped his arms around Grillby's neck, earning him a shuddering sigh as the elemental tensed impossibly tighter, muscles coiling like a spring about to break. "Now, don't be greedy, sweetheart." Sans purred softly by his jaw.

Grillby couldn't think, the infinitesimal relief he got from realizing Sans had came underneath him because of him was fucking gone. His restraint was hanging on by a single fraying thread of silk.

"D-don't, don't make me… Don't make me choose." He softly pleaded with Sans, unable to even look at him wrapped in the frustratingly one-sided blissful afterglow.

"Hm, you have been so very obedient for me." Sans breathed, instantly getting Grillby’s FULL attention. "A full minute of making-out, heavy petting allowed. I won't keep my hands to myself either," he said with a quick wink. "Or two nights in bed with me. Both of us naked."

"Nnngh, th-that's even worse." 

Sans gave a smug, rumbling chuckle. "I know," he purred.

Grillby suddenly snapped, snatching Sans' skull and pulling him into a deep kiss. He moaned shamelessly into the skeletons mouth as Sans, true to his word, replied in kind. He drove his tongue into Grillby's mouth and wrapped his legs securely around Grillby's waist, arching his body against him. Grillby gave a gut-punch grunt, dry-humping the skeleton against the bed with near-frantic movements.

Grillby jerked away from their kiss to bite Sans' throat over the fading marks he'd left several days ago, earning him a warbling cry, "Ah-ahn! Grillby!" He grabbed Sans' wrists and pinned them over his skull, returning to their desperate kiss, hips still manically thrusting.

All-too-soon Sans turned his skull, breathless for several seconds before he gave Grillby a sly smile. "Th… that was th-thirty seconds. Tell ya what, call it here and you can still get one night of naked cuddling. How's that sound, mm?"

A rational part of Grillby understood what a fantastic offer Sans had just put before him. But the lust-driven part of him was desperately trying to overpower logic and reason. It had been so long since Sans had directly touched his dick. He was desperate for release, but he knew as fucking sexy and perfectly balanced as Sans' cruelty and grace in bed was proving to be… There was no way in hell he could finish in thirty seconds.

Not without some extreme humiliation and guaranteed taunting from Sans for probably forever. If he hadn't already earned that for himself for his over-eagerness several days ago.

"Ye-yeah," Grillby panted, eyes closed as he tried to gather the willpower to pull his body away from Sans. The idea alone felt impossible to fathom. Even though he just came, Sans was still hard, something he had caused. Their cocks were so achingly close… Closer than they'd ever been before with only Grillby's clothes between them. Even their first morning together hadn't involved their dicks being this close. He wanted to keep going, he wanted to feel Sans' chilled skin against his own, warming it with the heat of his body, his deep-seated passion. He needed to hear Sans scream his name like that again, and again, and again. Feel his hands clawing down his back, watch his skull tip back as his pupils rolled and his sockets fluttered…

"Yeah, uh, that s-sounds good. Great. I…" He caught his breath and looked down at Sans, his heart melting at the skeleton's mischievous grin. "I've missed you…"

Sans blinked up at him, arms still weakly pinned over his skull. It had only been what, two, three nights that they hadn't slept in the same bed? The sincerity in those words tugged at his soul. A thick piece of his enduring resistance to the entire situation he was in suddenly shattered. His resolve to tease and torture the bar-owner into submission, and therefore earn his freedom cracked. He felt his expression fall flat as his pupils searched his face, watching closely as Grillby smiled sweetly down at him. Somehow containing his libido in spite of the raging boner he could feel pressing insistently against his own.

Sans continued to silently watch him as he released his wrists, dragging his hands slowly down Sans' arms as his weight gently shifted. 

"Can I hold you, love?"

"Wh… what?"

Grillby's smile grew with a quiet chuckle, sliding one arm under Sans' back to pull him closer before carefully cradling his face with his free hand. 

An unfamiliar emotion prickled in Sans' chest and he found himself leaning into his palm, closing his sockets with a sigh. Oh… Oh this is… Nice? Where's this been my entire fucking life?! And why am I just finding it NOW?! LIKE THIS?!

Sans just as quickly pulled his face away, sockets hardening as he looked back up at Grillby. He pushed on his chest until the other man slid up and off of him with a bittersweet smile. He sat up on the edge of the bed, his back to Grillby.

"I… I'm going to take a shower." He waited a few seconds. "And no jacking-off while I'm gone." Sans gruffly added as Grillby left to give him space.

Grillby snickered indulgently, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. "As you wish, my love." He replied before adding. "I'm going to finish up dinner, come down when you're ready to eat."

*

Sans stood under the steaming shower spray, staring blankly at the floor. He absently scrubbed himself clean as he replayed various interactions with Grillby over the past two weeks. The slow building of sexual tension. Sans recognizing the power he had over Grillby after getting rough and aggressive with him.

How it all led to this moment and the moments earlier with him teasing Grillby with the intent to gain his trust and having it end in a tender affection he'd never received before. 

In fact, just remembering the peace on Grillby's face as Sans leaned into his hand brought a calm stillness to his spinning thoughts. The sting of shame and broken trust that hovered over him this entire time felt lighter than he thought possible.

A sobering thought crashed into him.

What if Grillby was right?

What if all he needed was time to fully understand how much Grillby cared about him? Wanted him safe, loved, and happy? Just to be with him and let Grillby take care of him?

After all, Grillby did push his boundaries at first, but once Sans set a hard line it was never crossed again. He unintentionally gave Grillby the opportunity to touch him, kiss him, hold him and he took it. Sans couldn't help a short snicker at recalling the sheer desperation in Grillby's frantic dry-humping earlier.

There was an unexpected tug in his gut remembering the way he felt with Grillby bearing down on him, practically crushing him in his need to taste him, feel him…

Sans had to shut his sockets, biting his lip to keep from making some obscene noise. With a few deep breaths he recovered enough to think clearly (mostly) once more.

And when he stopped, Grillby stopped.

When he playfully offered another choice if he ended things mid-make-out, Grillby took it. Desperately as he wanted to keep going, he still stopped.

He'd honestly been trying to catch Grillby fucking-up, not listening, going too far (or further than Sans verbally said he could) to have an excuse to punish the other man. To show him he was in charge.

Only to discover he was in charge, but not in the ways he expected.

There was a quiet knocking at the bathroom door and Sans was ripped from his musings. He turned off the shower.

"Yeah?" He called out, surprisingly less bitter than he expected.

"I have your clothes. Do you want them in the bathroom or out on the bed?"

Sans shifted his jaw in thought. Grillby finally got to see him totally naked after all this time. They were going to sleep naked tonight. (Remembering that made his gut churn and tighten with several intense emotions he wasn't ready to name) What harm could there be in getting dressed in the bedroom? 

He smirked. Maybe he could turn it into an opportunity to tease Grillby some more. Especially after he told him not to get off without him.

Sans froze at that thought, mulling it over. He hadn't meant he couldn't get off without him, right? He'd meant he couldn't get off at all. But especially not sneaking off to do it… without him.

"Sans?"

"Uh, ye-yeah. On the bed is fine. Be out in a sec."

*

Dinner had been awkward. To say the least. Neither of them able to manage any kind of conversation or look at each other for any stretch of time before quickly looking away. Sans had even tried to ask a few questions about dinner, curious about the recipe, adding that it reminded him of something he used to make for his brother when they were growing up. Which only made it worse and they spent the rest of dinner in silence. Sans slid away after rinsing his plate and putting it in the dishwasher, quickly heading upstairs without a word.

Sans stood at the bathroom door after getting ready for bed, working up the courage to go back into the bedroom where Grillby was inevitably waiting. Possibly already naked in his eagerness to go to bed.

What the actual fuck had Sans been thinking when he said they could do this?!

Why hadn't he just let Grillby keep going earlier? Let him make his own mistake and keep making-out until he got blown off at the last second with his orgasm ruined? Fuck. The making-out had been nice! Why didn't he just leave it there? He got off and got to taunt Grillby. Win-fucking-win, right?!

He hadn't seen Grillby naked since that first morning. He hadn't actually touched Grillby's dick since then either.

And he couldn't deny he was simultaneously excited and terrified in equal measure at the idea of not only seeing him again in all his glory, but that mixed with the high probability of them getting carried away once they were both in bed, either right afterwards or when they woke up, or anytime in between, it was making it difficult to think straight.

Straight? Fuck, he hadn't thought straight since he got there.

It would've been the kind of thing his father would have snidely commented on in disapproval, his preference being skewed toward men in general once he started sleeping with people. Because that would've made sense. Hypocritical bastard. Not that that was his worst flaw by a long shot.

Hell, everything about this situation would've pissed Gaster off to no end. The audacity of Grillby, Sans' floundering, unstable resolve. Sans getting caught to begin with. He'd probably have leaned into it more if Gaster was still alive to be honest, just to piss him off. Sans willingly going with someone like that, and with someone Gaster would have seen as far beneath his impossible standards. Like he'd have ever let Sans be with someone while he was alive anyway.

The realization made him give a shaking scoff. Everything about this was so fucked-up. It made sense that on some level Sans was fucked-up, too. That if the situation was just slightly different he'd have given-in almost immediately. 

He bet that would've thrown Grillby for a fucking loop.

His refusal to start a relationship would've been different though, not wanting to get Grillby dusted for being involved with him romantically or sexually. With how badly he was periodically punished for staying too long at Grillby's before Gaster died and all the other shit he endured, he was never interested in a 'real' relationship anyway.

Shit. He was getting too distracted. Other possibilities or alternate what-if's were going to get him nowhere.

He roughly rubbed his hands over his face, trying to settle his nerves. He said he'd do it, he had to do it. If he backed out of anything he offered, that gave Grillby an excuse to as well. And goddamnit, if his soul-trait was fucking Integrity he'd have to feel some obligation to do the same thing right? To hold up his end of any bargaining between them?

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

*

Grillby was half-sitting, half-leaning against the steel footboard, his arms folded tightly over his chest as his left leg bounced anxiously on the ball of his foot. He hadn't been so nervous about getting into bed with someone in centuries. He was still dressed of course, in the pajamas he'd changed into just before dinner. And it had taken a concerning amount of will power to not use the shirt he'd been wearing earlier to get some kind of relief.

Because holy fuck, that had been intense. And he'd basically gotten confirmation that Sans could be convinced let Grillby top him. Between him using both of his hands earlier and the position he'd practically pulled Grillby into by wrapping his legs around his hips…

He had to close his eyes and take several slow breaths to steady his racing heart. He needed to calm the fuck down or he wouldn't be able to stay in bed with Sans for very long. And he got the feeling if he left only minutes after seeing Sans naked again while he was also naked that Sans wouldn't let him back into bed with him. Which would be dearly disappointing, and no quick orgasm was worth missing out on this.

However, his dick was refusing to get the memo.

Which would probably also cause an issue.

His face snapped up in surprise when Sans opened the bathroom door. He unfolded his arms and grabbed the footboard, staring back at him when Sans froze on the threshold. He was a little relieved that Sans was still dressed.

They looked at each other for several silent seconds before Grillby cleared his throat and glanced away.

"W-we d–"

"How d–?"

They both stopped when they spoke at the same time. Grillby's face sparked as he looked away completely, somehow even more nervous than he'd just been.

Sans tried to break the tension with an awkward chuckle, but Grillby could hardly focus on anything beyond the frantic pace of his heart and trying not to breathe as fast he felt like he needed to for the obscene amount of oxygen his lungs were suddenly demanding.

"How do… you want to do this?" Sans quietly asked.

Grillby gave an unsteady laugh, gulping as he still tried to control his breathing. "You're a-asking me?" his voice cracked with obvious nerves and he gripped the footboard under his hands tighter.

"Well… yeah?" Sans replied lightly enough that Grillby chanced a hesitant look at him. The other man's posture was tense but decidedly less tense than Grillby felt. He realized his leg was still bouncing and he immediately stopped it.

"Um, I'd rather have you decide."

"I think you'd fuckin' faint if I did."

Grillby's eyes widened. "Wh-what?" 

Sans chuckled, his hand fell from the door knob as he slowly walked closer. "I mean, if I suggested a strip-tease, I don't think you'd make it."

"Wh… what?" he asked before the words sank in, and once they did—along with Sans' cocky smirk as he stepped nearer—his brain shut-down completely for a solid five seconds.

Sans stood in front of him, lightly resting his hands on his thighs. He gave a short hum of smug approval as Grillby's knees spread for him to step even closer. Which he did. He slid his hands to Grillby's hips and up to his waist.

Sans lightly shrugged. "I mean, I can't dance for shit, but you said you used to…" Sans glanced down as he arched his hips against him, urging his legs wider as he pressed their bodies together. Air hissed through Grillby's teeth as he tensed, trying to stay still as he felt Sans' hard dick against his own.

"Might as well not pretend we're not both gonna be way too excited to keep our hands to ourselves, right?" Sans asked in a soft, sultry tone.

Surprised he could still feel shock at that point, Grillby stared at Sans blankly. Was he admitting he wanted him? Out loud? Finally?!

"You make the dumbest faces once I start touching you, you know that?"

Grillby suddenly remembered how to talk. "C-can't help it," he breathed, his voice smoky and thin with anticipation.

"Oh, I know," Sans nodded with a smug smile and a quick quirk of a socket. He leaned closer, sliding his hands to Grillby's stomach and ran his palms down to the hem of his shirt. "So, you wanna strip for me? Or you want me to do it?"

Grillby audibly gulped, "Y… you, please…"

Sans slipped his fingers underneath his shirt with a proud grin, taking the edge under his thumbs as he started to run up his abs. "What was that you said the other day?"

"What?" 

Sans snickered, his hands still moving slowly up to his chest. "Something about you not going to a gym?"

"I-I don't," Grillby panted, blinking as Sans paused with his fingers near his collarbone. 

Sans scoffed, "Bullshit," he glanced in disbelief down at Grillby's exposed torso.

A quick flash of humor eased the tension in his muscles as Grillby chuckled. "I don't, honestly."

"Bull-fucking-shit, Grillby." Sans rolled his pupils, hands starting to drop. Grillby caught his wrists and kept his hands on his chest, dampening Sans' skepticism and bringing a soft blush to his cheekbones.

"I uh, like running?" he tried to get his brain to work well enough for a conversation, but it felt like a losing battle. "And," he scoffed with a short sigh, looking away with an embarrassed smile. "I like chopping down trees?"

"How's there any forest left?" Sans asked, looking down at his abs again and then to his arms with a quick frown of appreciation.

"Because I still have a job," Grillby replied with a crooked grin. It bloomed into a full smile as Sans snorted before laughing at him.

Feeling a little less overwhelmed, Grillby released Sans' wrists and pulled his shirt off, tossing it aside. He started to reach for Sans' waist and hesitated, glancing back at him for permission.

To his confused surprise, Sans huffed with a short frown, glancing away. "Look, just–" He shut his sockets, his jaw shifting in clear irritation. "S-stop fuckin' asking. Jesus fuck, Grillby." He snapped, half-glaring back at him.

"I didn't even ask anything?" Grillby said with growing confusion.

"Yes, you did. With that stupid fuckin' face you're making." 

"What?"

Sans growled and shoved him back to the bed, hard enough to shock a gasp out of him. "Fine," Sans angrily shrugged, pulling off his shirt. "Can't take a fuckin' hint? Thought you were smart, Grillbs. What was that shit at the beginning of this then, just a bluff?"

"What?"

"Take off your pants," Sans told him, pulling the bow of his drawstring sweats.

"Wh-what?"

"I swear to God, you say 'what' one more fuckin' time, I'm gonna slap the shit out of you." Sans said with a dark, furious and unsteady chuckle.

Grillby blushed as he propped himself up on his elbows to look at him. What the fuck was happening? How had he managed to piss Sans off by not even asking a question out loud and just waiting for him to give the go-ahead? And then just trying to understand his sudden mood shift.

What the fuck was happening?!

"You want me to fuck you or not?!" Sans snapped.

"Wh–?" Grillby snapped his mouth shut. Sans' visible frustration started to slide into something with just a hint of irritated sadism and his barely-contained impatience was fast becoming indignant exasperation.

"Say it, mother-fucker. Say it again. I dare you." Sans growled in a low, dangerous tone that sent Grillby's heart racing.

Holy shit.

He was tempted to say it again. Just to see what would happen.

"I asked a question. You want me to fuck you or not?" Sans repeated, his breathing steady but heavier than normal as he still gripped the waistband of his sweats and waited; staring intensely down at the flustered and shocked elemental.

Grillby nodded eagerly and rushed to get his pants off, eyes wide as Sans almost-casually stepped out of his remaining clothes. 

Sans leaned over the footboard, sliding his hands under Grillby's thighs before he shoved him further up the bed, shocking a startled gasp from him. He didn't realize Sans was strong enough to do that. Grillby was a little shorter than most of the SnowdIn residents, but he wasn't light either.

With a breathy smirk, Sans crawled onto the bed between Grillby's legs and roughly spread his thighs with a quick shove of his knees as he got close enough to do so. He grabbed his waist, thumbs digging hard into the muscle that roped over his hips before he jerked him against his lap.

Grillby was positive he'd never been so turned or breathing so hard with anticipation in his life.

Sans face fell just slightly before he asked, "Wh-where's your lube?"

It took several seconds to process that Sans had spoken. "Wh-what?" he asked without thinking, barely remembering Sans' threat from before.

Sans sharply slapped the inside of his right thigh, making him shout in surprise. Pleasure and arousal quickly chased the sharp sting as his spine arched and his hands snatched fistfuls of the blanket beneath him. He was panting in a daze when he brought his face up again.

"I asked, where's your lube?" Sans repeated, whispering as he leaned over him.

Grillby's mind finally caught-up and he clearly heard what Sans asked, but gave the skeleton a shaky smile as he asked, "What?"

Something dark glinted in Sans' sockets as he slowly blinked in furious disbelief down at him. "Is that right?" 

Grillby nodded, eyes wide again as he bit his lip in eager, non-verbal consent. Please, please! His head jerked back with a short scream and a breathless moan when Sans harshly slapped his ass. "Ha-harder!" he cried.

With a pleased hum, Sans traced his fingertips over the still-stinging blue hand-prints he'd left behind. Grillby shivered with a shaking breath, "Pl-please?" he tried, barely able to open his eyes to look back up at the skeleton.

"Answer the question first."

Grillby’s eyes flickered with a quiet whine. "In… in my room." He breathed.

"Go get it."

"I-I, Sans… I-" he didn't want to leave. If he left Sans might change his mind and he'd fall to fucking pieces if Sans backed-off now. "Do we need it? I d-don't mind." He told him honestly. Fuck, he might have preferred it. He hadn't seen Sans like that yet, furious and dominant and he was positive he'd do anything Sans wanted right then.

But leaving the bed felt impossible.

"That wasn't a request. That was an order." Sans growled with a broad grin, taking Grillby's jaw and yanking his head upright to look at him. "Go get it. Now."

"Pl… please tell me you'll actually fuck me if I do."

"Until you can't fucking walk." Sans darkly promised.

"Oh my God… O-okay," he nodded, praying to who ever would listen that Sans wasn't lying as the other man slid backward to give him space to move. Grillby rose to trembling legs and half-staggered to his room across the hall.

Grillby returned, somehow looking even worse for wear as he leaned heavily on the door frame and was still unable to catch his breath. He shuffled into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

"Get on the bed," Sans told him as he took the purple bottle from Grillby.

Grillby nodded, barely noticing that Sans had pulled back the blankets for him while he was gone as he slid to the middle of the bed. He slid to his back when Sans glanced pointedly down and tried to keep himself composed, failing horribly, as Sans guided his legs to either side of his knees where he knelt on the bed. Sans slid closer, setting the bottle on the bed beside him as he leaned over Grillby.

He reached over Grillby's head and then behind the headboard. Grillby curiously glanced back, his eyes narrowed in confusion when he saw Sans pull the chain free from between the bars of the headboard. 

"Wh-?" he did stop himself that time, though Sans still quirked a socket skeptically down at him. "And why do you have that?" Grillby asked, rephrasing his question.

"Well, since I can't trust you to not to lose it before we're both ready to finish. I think you need to keep your hands out of the way. What d'you think?"

"Uh… I-I-?"

Sans held out the chain for him to take.

"Y-yes, okay." Grillby nodded, heart in his throat as he grabbed the chain and wrapped it around his wrists. He held it in his hands near the headboard and stared expectantly up at Sans.

"Oh, and another thing."

"Y-yeah?"

"Because of that little slip-up, you don't cum until I tell you that you can."

Oh.

Grillby gripped the chain tight, blushing with a few errant blue sparks and he nodded again, unable to speak.

Sans grabbed the bottle of lube from the bed and squeezed out a generous amount on his fingers. He smirked down at Grillby as he ran his free hand up the inside of his thigh to encourage his legs wider apart. He slid his coated fingers between Grillby's legs and smugly bit his lip when the elemental shivered as he spread it over his hot skin. He circled his fingers before sliding one in, making air hiss through Grillby's clenched teeth.

"Patience," Sans told him as he braced his other hand on the bed.

Easy for you to say. Grillby thought as he nodded anyway. He had to close his eyes, biting his lips to keep from begging for Sans to hurry up as he carefully slipped another finger in. He jerked in surprise when Sans hit his prostate and chuckled as Grillby twisted his hips to angle his fingers against it harder.

"Mmh!" Grillby whined. "Fuck…" his head hit the bed with a breathy sigh as Sans curled his fingers and worked his hand. Pleasure sparked in his gut and he weakly moaned when Sans added a third finger. 

Having Sans finally touching him and getting him ready to fuck him, hopefully as rough and desperate as he'd been earlier, was enough to release a tension in his bones he'd grown so used to in the past two weeks that he didn't notice it until it was gone. Sans noticed too.

"There you go…" Sans sighed in praise, twisting his hand to be sure he got him as slick as possible. "Heh, ready?"

Grillby's face shot up and he nodded eagerly, unable to speak as Sans pulled his hand away. He watched as Sans spread the rest of the lube still on his hand around his cock with a few lazy strokes. Grillby was breathing fast, bordering on hyperventilation when Sans lined the head of his dick up with his slick ass.

"H-holy shit, calm down." Sans half-laughed, his face concerned.

"C-can't, fuck, pl-please, please Sans."

"Beggin' already? I'm not even in yet."

"Please?!" Grillby tugged on the chain he gripped. "Please?!" He shouted, eyes closing tight as his head tipped back.

"Fuckin', shit, Grillby." 

He opened his mouth again to beg, but was mercifully interrupted by Sans pressing slowly into him. He relaxed into the bed with a long sigh of relief as Sans carefully rocked his hips, sliding deeper with each soft move until he was completely flush.

Sans was still for several seconds, savoring the perfect heat that surrounded him. "Fuck… f-forgot how incredible you felt." He sighed, sockets closing.

"Mm-hm!" Grillby nodded, fighting the urge to beg but still pleading with his desperate gaze as he watched Sans' attitude shift again just by his slowly loosening muscles. The skeleton looked back at him, his briefly peaceful expression went back to concerned.

"Y-you gonna fuckin' make it?" Sans asked with a crooked grin that did little to hide his skeptical look.

"Ye-yes, just-! Fuckin' MOVE!"

Sans' mild concern faded as he spread Grillby's legs wider, his hands running gently over his thighs. He sharply lifted his hand and chuckled at the way Grillby tensed in anticipation, gripping the chain in his hands tight with his eyes wide. Grillby sighed in obvious disappointment as Sans slowly laid his hand back on his thigh, his thumb stroking over his skin.

"You fuckin' tease," Grillby scoffed, smiling as his head laid back on the bed.

"Grillby?"

"Yes?" He asked with a deep sigh, sensing he was in for something much less rough than Sans had unconsciously telegraphed earlier when he'd shoved him to the bed and slapped him.

"Guess what?"

"What?" Grillby asked, fighting the burning disappointment rising in his chest. He lifted his face when Sans was silent, "What?" he repeated, confused that time.

He barely had time to register the flicker of something dark and previously unseen across Sans' face before he slapped the inside of his thigh, even harder than he'd done earlier. His head snapped back with a shocked cry.

"So, you like rough?" Sans asked as a shiver went through the man beneath him.

"Y-yes," Grillby nodded. "Th… thought it was ob-obvious by now?"

"Mm, just makin' sure."

"N-no you aren't, you're just being a dick!" Grillby laughed.

"You better behave yourself," Sans teased.

"Or what?" Grillby asked, biting his tongue with a sultry grin.

Sans started to speak, his expression arrogant, but snorted before he could get the words out, looking away with a short, embarrassed laugh.

"What?" Grillby asked, smile warming as he caught some of Sans' good-humor.

"N-no, I can't–uh, nevermind, um," he cleared his throat and tried to claw back his composure. "Just uh, don't let me get too carried away?"

Grillby rolled his eyes with a good-natured smile, gaining a little more understanding of Sans' frustration from earlier and several days before. It did break up the fantasy a bit to stop and ask questions. He made a note to discuss boundaries later so they could avoid something similar in the future.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I'll be fine." Grillby assured him. "But what were you going to say?"

Sans shook his skull with another weak snicker, biting back a smile as he blushed just slightly.

"Oh, come on, tell me?"

Sans gestured to his hands over his head with a tilt of his skull. "How's your ar–?"

"Sans!" Grillby laughed, interrupting him. "I'll be fine!"  

Sans sighed in playful resignation, he looked back down at Grillby. His expression slowly shifted from embarrassed to a fast-growing confidence, his hands roughly massaged Grillby's thighs as he arched his hips. Grillby took a shaking breath as he was reminded Sans was still buried deep inside him and still hard. The tension in the bedroom was quickly rising as Sans slipped his hands under his knees before he pushed them toward the bed. He started to shift his hips, grinding against Grillby's ass.

Grillby tried unconsciously to bring his knees to Sans' waist as he started to breathe faster.

Sans gave him a smug look of warning as he tightened his grip harshly, fingers digging into muscle hard enough to make Grillby wince. Blue sparks flitted across his face, his eyes were wide with anticipation and want.

Sans very slowly, gently began to work his hips. Sliding to the very edge of slipping free of Grillby's body before he sank halfway back inside.

"Ff-ffuck," Grillby panted, trying to move under Sans' astonishingly fierce grip. He gasped when Sans pinned his knees to the bed by his waist but kept that same soft pace, still not fully moving.

It was a far cry from what Grillby craved and Sans fucking knew it. "Nngh! Hh-harder!" He snapped, fighting to just chase Sans' frustratingly shallow movements.

He stared up at Sans' face with despair as he stopped completely, just barely inside him.

"You better behave yourself," Sans repeated in a dark tone as he leaned closer. "Brats don't get what they want."

"You fucking sure about that?" Grillby almost snarled.

Sans gave a short arrogant nod, smirking as Grillby tried again to move under him. 

"If you don't like what I'm doing, I can stop,"

Grillby froze in place. "Don't you fucking dare."

"Or what, huh? You wanna just go jack-off alone? Is that what you want?"

Sans' smirk turned into a knowing smile as Grillby stared back at him, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed furiously.

"Well?" Sans prompted, dragging his thumbs over Grillby's thighs.

"N… no," Grillby mumbled, looking away.

"What was that?"

"No! You ass!"

Sans laughed at his indignation, watching his flames whip in tight blue and purple spirals.

"If you want me to fuck you, you're gonna take what I give you." Sans purred as he very gently started to move his hips again. 

Grillby's eyes flickered with a soft moan of relief, barely looking up at Sans.

"And you're gonna be happy about it, got it?"

"Ye… yes…" Grillby nodded, just grateful for something as Sans kept moving.

"Good boy," Sans sighed as he leaned back once more. "Keep it up and maybe I'll let you boss me around a little, how's that sound baby?"

Grillby nodded again, eyes closing with a hitched breath as Sans started to sink deeper with every few careful thrusts. Soon though, he couldn't help whining with growing need as the purposely gentle movements began to press tauntingly against the most sensitive part of him inside.

He started to shake, groaning through his teeth. He tugged harshly down on the chain around his wrists, needing something to ground himself or he was going to fucking snap. And the sharp sting of chain links biting into his skin was the only thing keeping him from cumming before Sans said he could.

"Yeah? What is it?" Sans breathlessly asked.

Grillby moaned, his back arching and driving Sans deeper. "I-I'm–!"

"Close?"

"Yes!"

"You wanna cum?"

"Oh-! GOD YES!"

"Or," Sans asked leadingly.

Grillby harshly groaned again, fighting his own body to listen. Sans hadn't said he could finish yet, he only asked if he wanted to! 

"Fuck!"

Sans' sockets gleamed with mischievous pride. "Or you w-want me to make you cum?"

"Y-YOU! PLEASE?!"

"Breathe, sweetheart…" Sans sighed as he slowed to a crawl.

"Ff-fuck! Fuck! Don't st-stop!" Grillby panted, half-crying. Sans leaned over him, sliding close as he pulled him into a kiss, one of the few he initiated. A fact that startled Grillby out of his desperation.

Grillby sighed as Sans kissed him, assertive but not overtaking him, all while he still slowly moved, grinding their bodies together again. Gradually, Grillby relaxed again, loosely wrapping his legs around Sans' waist.

Sans pulled back, bracing his weight on his hands near Grillby's waist again as he winked down at him.

Dazed, Grillby didn't realize why he winked before Sans thrust himself roughly against him. Grillby shouted in shock, his head snapped back and he fast devolved into half-formed words and pleading for him to be rougher as Sans picked up a harsh and fast pace. He let a few Latin curses spill as he climbed higher and then screamed several more when Sans slapped his ass.

With an approving growl, Sans slapped him again and Grillby gave a choked sound, his body shaking. He was barely holding on, lost in a passionate haze as his chest burned, his skin stung, and his gut coiled tight in impending bliss. Sans clawed at his raw skin, leaving beautifully stinging welts before he'd land another blow that would pull a strangled cry from the steadily crumbling elemental. 

Grillby could feel his temperature rising, could feel the tearing ache in his lungs as steam escaped his lips with his frantic gasps for air between stilted moans. Sans teased his grip around his throat and he begged for Sans to choke him, to pin him down until he couldn't breathe. But he wasn't sure if Sans didn't want to listen or if he just wasn't speaking English anymore. He didn't care, he wanted it and Sans wasn't giving it to him.

Hands dragged down his chest, gripped his hips tight as his ass was angled higher so Sans could move more freely, picking up his already intense pace. His thighs were brutally slapped, each one drawing a darker scream for more. More beautiful agony, more control over him, more of Sans.

Soft, winded praise was sighed against his throat. How good he was doing, how he was taking all of Sans' cock like he was made just for him, how gorgeous he was, how incredible his body felt under Sans, around him.

"What d'you want? T-tell me, been so good for me, what d'you want from me?" Sans panted, groaning as he hauled Grillby's right knee over his shoulder. 

The new angle made Grillby babble pathetically, as incoherent as his wildly scattered thoughts. His face turned into his shoulder as he braced his hands against the wall between the bars of the headboard, trying to stay in place and give Sans a harder stop to each thrust.

He craved release, he'd been at the edge and struggling valiantly to obey the one command given beyond keeping his hands to himself. He desperately cried-out for mercy in at least one language, maybe more, while Sans moaned his name into his skin as he bit down over his frantic pulse.

Grillby fought for air, his throat aching from the constant screaming pleas that seemed to fall on deaf ears. He was about to give-in, too gone to remember why he was denying himself what would have to be one of the best orgasms of his life. He could hardly remember his chosen name, he only knew it was Sans wrecking him so thoroughly…

He gasped hard enough to make his entire body arch when Sans took his dick in hand and started stroking him. He moaned through his teeth, eyes shut tight as he tried to hold on. Somehow he found enough sense to string together a barely intelligible sentence, blurring together Latin and English.

"Ob… obscero, Sans, please! C-can't… fffuuuck… L-let me-! Amica mea! Let mm-me-! Cum! Nnngh! Please!"

Sans wrenched his head back with a brutal tug on his flames, exposing the curve of his bruised neck. "Cum for me," Sans sighed against his throat.

Pleasure so intense it almost made him beg for Sans to stop wrapped tight through his muscles, into his bones, flooded through his veins and constricted around his soul. He was overwhelmed, unable to breathe, both reaching for and leaning away from the enticing call of ecstasy higher than he'd ever tasted.

And then he could abruptly fill his lungs as his eyes went wide, his vision blurred in a crash of light and heat and bliss as his mind shut-down completely. Sans held him together as he was broken to pieces, torn at the seams and he was gone.

"Oh! FUCK! SA-ANS! YEESS!" 

Sans groaned at the crack of his name in Grillby's broken, sobbing scream. He gasped as he felt Grillby's cock pulse in his hand and tightened his grip, groaning again when Grillby's body tightened too. Hot cum slid over Sans' fingers and he couldn't hold back anymore. He gave a guttural cry of relief as he came, muscles rolling as his skull tipped back with a crooked, satisfied smile.

Grillby collapsed underneath Sans, huffing slightly when Sans went limp over him next. It took a while for his pulse to settle, and even longer for his mind to return to something resembling coherent thought. Though his mind could only swirl endlessly around Sans…

How he'd never trusted someone so completely and gotten so willingly lost in sub-space before. How he'd never felt so high without drugs. How Sans had guided him through a fucking mind-bending pleasure he'd never experienced sober. 

He didn't think it was actually possible to get fucked so thoroughly to forget one's name. He always thought it was a fun, sexy phrase to throw around, but he remembered being too far gone to know what language he was speaking and good God, what the hell had that been about?

He was still drifting pleasantly on cloud nine when Sans shifted over him, curling snugly around him, still laying heavy between his legs.

Grillby sighed sweetly as Sans tucked his skull under his jaw and moved to wrap his arms around him, only to suddenly remember his wrists were still wrapped tight in the chain attached to the bed.

He winced without thinking and Sans lifted his face and he wished he'd just stayed still as Sans looked up with a quizzical hum before he pushed up, taking his wonderful weight off him and snatching him from his perfect afterglow cocoon. 

"Oh, shit." Sans shifted to his side, reaching for Grillby's hands as Grillby deeply sighed in disappointment.

"I'm fine," Grillby told him, even as he couldn't feel his hands enough to tell if he was still holding the chain or not.

"Grillby," Sans chastised. Grillby looked up in time to see Sans cast him a disapproving frown. "Yeah, your fuckin' hands are nearly black you dipshit."

"What?" Grillby twisted his head to look up at his hands as Sans gently unwound the chain from them.

"Sorry, I should've checked sooner." Sans apologized with a grimace as he tossed the chain aside and ran his hands over Grillby's wrists.

Grillby sighed at the soft brush of his fingers over his raw, cold skin. He forgot for a few seconds what he'd been about to say. When he looked back at Sans' genuine concern he remembered. "I-I'm fine, really." he assured him.

"Then why do you feel colder than me?" 

Grillby sighed again, that time in mild irritation. He shut his eyes in concentration, urging heat from his soul to his hands as he slowly balled them into fists before extending his fingers with a few pops of crackling magic through his knuckles. He looked back at Sans who was blinking in surprise at his hands which he still cradled loosely in his own.

"See? I'm fine." He told him again, smiling weakly as Sans looked back at him. "Long as it's not water damage, I recover quick."

Sans quirked a socket skeptically at him. "Then why are you covered in scars?" He traced the very thin line over the inside of his right forearm that was left behind by the knife Grillby had used to demonstrate how useless the knives were in the kitchen were.

"Recovering doesn't mean I don't scar. Breaking the skin will leave marks, but just cutting off circulation won't hurt me." 

Great. His pleasant bubble of post-coital peace was burst. Or maybe he was already coming down? It had been fairly intense… Definitely the most intense sex he'd had in a long time. It could just be a sub-drop. Maybe he could use that to convince Sans into some cuddling for aftercare? 

Wait.

"Sans?" he asked absently as Sans started to idly massage his forearms, something that was not only comforting but softly distracting.

"Yeah?" 

"You…? Do you uh… usually top?" 

Sans shrugged and Grillby forced himself to stay alert as Sans kept focused on his task and kneaded at his wrists and hands. "Uh, depends?" he replied. "I've gone back and forth. Why?" 

Grillby's heart raced and for a few seconds he couldn't answer him.

Sans chuckled, running his palms down his arms to his biceps and rolling his fingers over muscle with purpose. "What's up?" 

"A sw-switch?" Grillby asked, eyes closing as his arms were shifted lower toward his chest and Sans curiously ran his fingers over his shoulders and then up his neck to the back of his head.

"Yeah, I think so."

Grillby sighed with a soft, dozy smile when Sans massaged the base of his skull, making his neck go completely limp and his head rest heavy in his hands.

"Sa… same," Grillby told him.

"Ah, yeah, I can see that."

"Mm?" Grillby blinked slowly up at him as Sans shifted his knees on either side of his head, sitting back on his heels as he slid his hands over his chest and then back up to his neck.

"Well, that or a power bottom, to be honest. Considering how you were at the beginning."

"What?" Grillby asked with a low purr slowly resonating in his chest.

Sans blinked down at him in surprise. "You uh… you're purring?" Grillby just nodded drowsily, smiling weakly as he leaned into Sans' palm near his face. Sans scoffed lightly, "I… Wow." he stroked his thumb over his cheek.

"Well uh," Sans cleared his throat, unintentionally pulling Grillby from his light sleep, not realizing he was already so drained. "Sorry," he quietly apologized, trying not to laugh at the bleary confusion on Grillby's face as he blinked hard to focus.

"I-I think I need another shower. Can I get you cleaned up and in bed before I do that? Or do you need me to stay a bit?"

Grillby yawned, his purr fading as he covered his mouth with a short shake of his head. "No, I'll go clean up." He told him. "We still doing naked cuddles?" He asked with a playful, tired, bounce of his eyes up at Sans.

Sans snickered, nodding. "Yeah, said we could. And after that it'd be a bit shitty to just kick you out."

Grillby shrugged. "Still up to you, love."

Sans rolled his pupils. "I'm not a complete asshole. Even if you said I was."

"I think I called you a dick."

"You said both. In multiple languages I think."

Grillby chuckled. "Yeah, probably did." he easily agreed.

They looked at each other for a few breaths, Sans still absently running his thumb over Grillby's cheekbone.

Sans looked away first, slowly pulling his hands away. "Alright, let's get clean before you pass-out on me."

Grillby sat up with a laughing groan as everything in his body protested. He was a little surprised when Sans pushed on his back to get him upright easier. He started to say something over his shoulder and froze when he felt Sans' fingers trace down the long scars on either side of his spine. He'd forgotten about them, as he often did until he caught sight of himself in the mirror or brushed one of them touching his back. He knew they were obvious. Stark white and jagged as they dragged down from the base of his neck all the way down to his tailbone.  An icy weight settled in his stomach as he waited for Sans to say something. Trying to mentally prepare for the inevitable questions that would only stir up bad memories.

When it was silent for several seconds after Sans' touch halted halfway down his back before pulling away, he cleared his throat.

"I-I'll be right back," Grillby quietly said as he slid from the bed and left for his own bedroom without looking back.

*

Grillby waited until he heard the shower in the other room turn off and the bathroom door open once more before he walked back into Sans' room. He flipped off the light after Sans crawled into bed and he followed. He was tense until Sans smiled weakly at him, opening his arms to invite him close.

With a quiet sigh of relief, hoping Sans wasn't going to question him, he slid in snugly against Sans on his side facing him. Sans sighed softly as Grillby got comfortable, wrapping his arms around him and draping his knee over Sans' hip. 

Grillby started to kiss his skull but stopped, switching to lay his temple against him.

"Oh, and uh, I don't want you getting-off without asking first." Sans said with a smirk against Grillby's chest.

Grillby was too satisfied and relaxed again to argue and simply nodded with a content hum of agreement. And then what Sans said sank in. "Wait, why?"

"You did good earlier, but I think you need some practice. I know you've been sneaking off when you think I won't notice. And God knows what you do at night while I'm asleep you perv."

"I… And you?"

"Pff, what about me? I'm not the one jacking-off ten times a day."

Grillby scoffed. "It's not… that much."

Sans lifted his skull to look skeptically at him.

"Like you're not?" Grillby asked with a roll of his eyes.

"You ever see me do it when I'm not doing it to get your attention?"

"I a-assumed you were in the bathroom. You take long showers."

Sans frowned briefly, "I see where you get that, but I'm not. Other than the other day when you couldn't keep from jizzing your damn pants, only got myself off twice."

"Only three times?" Grillby asked with complete disbelief, though if he was being honest that lined up right. The night on camera, wherever he went the other morning (the bathroom he assumed) and earlier that day. They'd finally had sex but that didn't count for what Sans was saying. Still, that couldn't be right. Right? 

"Total? You expect me to believe that?"

"Well, four total. Two alone, two with you." Sans said with a quick bounce of his brow.

Grillby frowned at him.

Sans snickered. "And I still let you cum first."

Grillby realized that Sans' attitude had clear peaks of irritation in the past two weeks. And if he was to be believed, they were worse just before he let himself actually give in to some kind of physical intimacy, even when it didn't end in them finishing. And so much softer and easy-going afterward. 

Like the moment they were currently in. And when Sans had him hold him that night several days ago. How he'd been almost comfortable after that night on camera. Well, before Papyrus called.

Whereas Grillby was just desperate all-around. Twenty-four seven. Maybe he did need to take a break…

"So, what? You can just get off when you want and I can't?" Grillby asked with a scoff.

"I gotta catch up, right?" 

Grillby snorted, his head laying back on the pillow to look at Sans. "Can I watch at least?" 

Sans laughed, making Grillby smile broadly back at him. "I dunno. Maybe if you're good for me you'll get a reward," he purred in a low voice as he leaned closer and barely brushed their lips together.

Grillby blushed. It only burned brighter when Sans burst into laughter and he knew exactly why. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling as Sans couldn't stop laughing for what felt like a embarrassingly long time.

"Just at the drop of a hat, huh?" Sans teased, still shaking with restrained chuckles.

"You're sexy! What do you expect?" Grillby tossed back with a partly serious tone.

"Dude…" Sans scoffed. "We just fucked." He chuckled with a sultry smirk that only made Grillby's heart race again, in spite of that fact. "Was I not good enough for you, baby?" He sighed, his hand sliding down his waist.

"I-I," Grillby stuttered, unable to think for several seconds until Sans' smile turned cocky.

Grillby sighed as he recognized that arrogant expression. It was the same one as when Sans told a particularly bad joke and he'd caught Grillby trying not to laugh or groan at it. He'd forgotten what a teasing asshole Sans could be. How? He had no clue. But it probably had to do with the fact that his mind was still recovering from earlier. When Sans had channeled that teasing nature into sheer divinity. 

Grillby rolled his eyes, coming back to the present. "You think you're so high and mighty, you think you're a fucking pillar of self-control?"

Sans laughed before he shrugged. "Compared to you lately, kinda. Yeah." he nodded confidently.

"Want to test that?" 

"Sure, what're you gonna do, huh? Mister won't even touch me without a million and one fucking questions." Sans scoffed. 

Grillby looked back at him, gaze hardening as he thought about what he said. And then considered other moments, too. Sans had snapped about him not getting the hint earlier. And asked if he was bluffing? What was that about? Obviously asking for permission was a touchy subject.

Then one of the first things he'd said to Sans hit him. 'I'm going to take silence as permission' His face fell when he remembered the intense reaction he'd gotten out of Sans the other day when he'd just... went ahead and teased him, grabbing his cock and nearly making him cum before he lost it. Could Sans just not ask him for what he wanted? He was capable of saying no. He'd told him to stop before. He'd told him not to stop before, too. He wasn't acting like he was being coerced into anything. In spite of the situation.

Sans rolled his pupils with a disappointed sigh when Grillby was quiet and still for several more seconds, looking away before he started to roll over. "Neverm–" 

Grillby interrupted him, catching his face before he turned. He waited a second to give him the chance to pull away before he kissed him. He held the back of his neck, angling his face to drive his tongue into his mouth.

Sans returned his enthusiasm in kind, shocking a quick gasp out of him. Grillby pulled away just enough to speak. "I'm telling you to stop me when you want me to stop." 

Sans gave a single breathless nod and Grillby dove back in, kissing him even more aggressively. Sans started to breathe harder, arching his hips into him as he tugged Grillby's face even tighter to him. He let a shaking moan escape when Grillby shifted his legs, brushing his thigh against his crotch. He slid his knee between Sans' legs and shoved him to his back. He pressed his weight down, still kissing him as Sans' legs spread beneath him. He started to grind their bodies together when Sans suddenly pushed against his chest.

"W-wait, wait!" 

Grillby jerked back immediately, recognizing the panic in Sans' voice.

"H-heh, uh… p-point taken." Sans gave a nervous chuckle. He ran a shaking hand over his skull and let his arm fall over him. "Ff-fuck," he laughed breathlessly. "Nearly uh, fuck, nearly got me."

Grillby didn't believe him, but he tried not to let it show. "I can go slower…" He sighed.

"Tch, no way. I'm not taking another shower." Sans shook his skull with a definitely-not-forced smirk.

"Who said I was going to make a mess?" Grillby asked as he shifted back to Sans' side.

"Like you wouldn't take that opportunity?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't get you off, I said I wouldn't make a mess…" Grillby said, narrowing his eyes and biting his bottom lip.

"A-and how would you manage that?" Sans quietly asked.

"Oh, there's a couple ways I can think of." Grillby shrugged.

"Like what?"

"Well, I could ride you since you did all the work earlier?" He softly suggested, sliding closer as he ran his hand down his torso.

Sans snickered, "No way, you'll make a mess all over me."

Grillby sighed with put-on disappointment. "Then I'll just have to suck your dick." He said flatly as he leaned in to kiss Sans' throat. 

Sans didn't protest as Grillby's hand slowly slid down his stomach, breathing faster while warm fingers felt out the faint lines of invisible muscle over him. Heated kisses started to travel lower as Grillby wrapped his hand loosely around his dick.

Grillby curiously kissed his chest, trying to guess where his nipple would be as he slowly explored. He'd seen Sans' reaction earlier that day and wanted to know how he'd react to tongue and teeth on them. To his surprise, Sans gently threaded his fingers through his flames and guided his face lower, breath hitching as he kept working his hand around his cock. He thought for a moment he was going to push his head under the sheets and couldn't help chuckling when he stopped over a spot over his rib-cage. 

He blindly licked his cool skin and proudly smirked when Sans tensed under him, taking a shaking breath as his grip tightened in his flames. Now where he wanted to be, Grillby cautiously bit down and rolled his tongue. He bit down harder when Sans pulled him closer.

"Ffu–mm!"  

Grillby had fun for several long minutes, patiently stroking Sans and at one point diverting his attention to the other side of his chest. He was thoroughly enjoying toying with the other man for a change and had the suspicion Sans was enjoying the attention, finally relaxed enough to let Grillby take care of him.

He felt Sans start to twist his hips, breathing faster as the hand on his head dropped to his shoulder blade and his fingers dug in. 

Grillby barely lifted his face and sedately asked, "What is it love?" he just slightly tightened the loose grip he had and Sans jerked, harshly biting his lip with a soft moan. 

Sans wordlessly ran his hand back up to Grillby's head and encouraged his face back to his chest.

"Move the blanket," Grillby smugly told him before he gingerly bit down again. He smirked to himself as he felt Sans blindly fumble for the edge of the sheet and tossed it back. He tightened his hand again, rolling his fingers along the length of him as he quickened his pace.

"OH! FUCK!" Sans screamed in shock, his hands scrambled for something to hold as he curled forward. His hands grabbed Grillby's closest arm and the side of the bed as he groaned loudly. Grillby hummed in pride at the sight, watching hungrily as Sans' face twisted with pleasure and his shoulders forcefully hit the bed as he pulsed in Grillby's hand.

"Oh… oh fuck," Sans weakly laughed when Grillby stopped but didn't pull his hand away. "O-okay, point actually taken."

"Yeah? How's that?"

Sans looked back at him, still catching his breath before he gave a crooked grin and shook his skull. He lifted his face, scoffing as he let his skull drop to the bed again. "Thought you wouldn't make a mess?"

"I didn't. You did."

Sans snorted, laughing again. "Yeah, alright, I walked into that one. But I'm gonna remember that."

Grillby put a hand on his chest to stop him when Sans started to sit up. "Want me to take care of that?" He asked, glancing down once at his torso.

"U-uh, what?"

"Sorry, forgot I shouldn't ask questions." Grillby said, half-teasing, half actually forgetting. He pushed hard on Sans' chest, forcing him back to the bed.

Blushing in surprise, Sans lifted his face to watch as Grillby shifted in bed beside him. He kissed gradually down his chest, dragging his tongue slowly over his barely-visible skin where cum coated him. Grillby moved to lick his half-soft cock to clean it next, casting his gaze up Sans' body as he held it against his palm and licked up the length of it without looking away from Sans' pinprick pupils.

Grillby narrowed his eyes with a smoldering grin as he not only felt Sans growing hard again against his hand, but watched his pupils quickly grow wide and fuzzy at the edges with several blinks. He resisted asking another question and guided Sans' cock into his mouth. 

"Oh, oh God…"

Grillby started to move to better reach Sans' dick while watching his face but Sans stopped him with a hand on his hip, getting his attention. He was still lightly bobbing his head as he looked back up at him curiously. 

"St-stay there," Sans told him, half-rolling to his side and wrapping his hand around his dick to stroke him.

"Mmngh…" Grillby weakly moaned around Sans, his eyes flickering as he started to move more intently. 

"Hhh-holy hell…" Sans switched hands, his left stroking while his right slid between Grillby's thighs to make space.

"Mm?" Grillby questioned.

Sans shifted slightly so he could reach better before he quickly wet his other fingers with his tongue. He slipped his slick fingers between Grillby's legs and gave a laughing groan at the other man's reaction once he was inside him. Grillby grabbed harshly at his hip, moaning around his cock again as he faltered for a few seconds. He pulled at his hip, urging him fully to his side, so Sans moved again and was rewarded by Grillby taking him flush with his skin and swallowing hard around him.

"Sh-shit! This—fuck baby—this g-good?" he panted hard as he struggled to focus on what he was doing, far from caring about the reason why.

"Mmhm!" Grillby eagerly nodded, tugging at his lower back, and Sans realized he wanted him to actually fuck his face.

"Oh-! Shit!" Sans shut his sockets and fought to concentrate before forcing himself to look down as he rolled his hips to make sure he wasn't being too rough. "Nngh! Ne-nearly…" he was trying to give him warning, not knowing how Grillby preferred to let someone finish like that. But he was caught off-guard by the other man firmly grabbing his ass to hold him in place as he intently nodded and then took him to the back of his throat and swallowed around him again.

And that was it. Sans tightly shut his sockets again and moaned Grillby's name as he came. He pressed his fingers deeper, stroking harder against his prostate as he tightened his grip and moved faster. Still mid-climax he gasped at the feeling of Grillby's moan when it caught in his throat around him.

"G-go ahead," Sans blurted, hardly able to talk. "Cum for me, cum for me sweetheart."

Grillby shook his head, pulling Sans deeper as he was determined to let him finish completely first.

With a dark chuckle, Sans slid another finger inside him and thrust harshly to his knuckles.

Grillby jerked away from his lap with a shocked cry. He tensed up and screamed, his hand clawed down Sans' side and he shuddered in pleasure as he came.

For several seconds they laid in place, trying to catch their breath. After a minute to recover, Sans chuckled, looking at his hand. He lifted his skull with a weary grunt to look at Grillby and then let it fall to his pillow as he rolled to his back with a long, content sigh.

"Got it… most of it over yourself this time." Sans joked. "Somehow…" he added with a weary laugh.

Grillby mumbled something when he rolled to his back, his voice breaking as he weakly patted Sans' stomach.

"Was that English?" Sans curiously asked.

"Dunno… prob'ly not." Grillby admitted with a tired, almost giddy laugh.

"Alright, well, don't move," Sans told him as he sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed to stand.

"What…?" 

"Careful, Grillbs," Sans teased as he walked to the bathroom. He gave a slightly disgusted frown as he wiped his chest mostly clean with tissue. He washed his hands and then called over his shoulder. "Will a wet rag hurt you? Since, you know, cum and lube doesn't?"

When he got no reply he twisted to look back into the bedroom and realized Grillby was already asleep. He scoffed with a shake of his skull and got half of a washcloth wet. He wiped his still-sticky skin quickly before wandering back to sit next to the other man on the bed.

He nearly woke him but hesitated with his hand halfway to his shoulder. 

Grillby's face was relaxed, peaceful. One arm was bent and laid with his elbow near his face and his hand over his head, and the other hand rested easily on his chest. It felt like a much more satisfying end to their night after the reveal of Grillby's vicious-looking scars down either side of his spine that Sans had been too stunned by to not stop and stare. Right in the middle of making sure Grillby was coming down safely. And Sans had to ruin it by not moving on fast enough once Grillby's discomfort was obvious.

He didn't blame Grillby for being unwilling to acknowledge that Sans had seen them. The scars looked so much worse than anything else crossing the front of his body. Like someone had tried to carve out his spine. Maybe they had.

He pushed that aside for now, visually checking over Grillby and enjoying the sight of him blissed-out even in his sleep. The bruises around his wrists and bites near his jaw were substantially faded compared to earlier and he was slightly disappointed the marks wouldn't last as long as his own.

He paused to consider that.

Clarity started to sink in after the high and relief of sex.

Why did he care if he got to see his own handiwork as a reminder for a few days after that? Grillby wasn't going anywhere. No one else would see it either. What did it matter? 

Wait. Did he want other people to see it? Did he want people to think Grillby wasn't touchable? That he was off-limits, taken? That Grillby was his?

Sans pushed his conflicting feelings down as well. He gently shook Grillby's shoulder to wake him and snorted at the dazed expression he got when Grillby fought his way to consciousness.

"Mm?" he blearily inquired.

Sans smirked down at him and raised the washcloth in his hand to show him. "Would a wet rag hurt you? 'cause you're gross." he regretted his word choice and quickly amended. "I-I mean, your stomach's gross. You're covered."

"Wha?" Grillby started to sit up and drowsily realized what he meant. "Oh, uh, yeah, 's fine." 

Sans stopped him with a hand on his chest and quickly wiped him clean. "Alright, be right back." Before he could think twice about what he was doing, he cupped Grillby's face and planted a quick kiss on his forehead.

Shit.

He must have pushed those conflicting feelings down too hard.

Grillby softly hummed in dozy appreciation of the gesture, tilting his head into his lips.

Quickly realizing what he'd done, he cleared his throat and turned back to the bathroom to rinse the washcloth and ring it out before he dropped it near the door on the tile. When he returned to the bedroom, Grillby was nestled in bed again, waiting for him. He noticed it was much dimmer with Grillby mostly covered, which made sense.

Sans crawled under the sheets with him. Grillby curled around him comfortably, laying his head on his chest and sliding his arm around his waist while wrapping one of their legs around each other.

Sans sighed deeply, laying his chin against Grillby's head before pulling back and resting his cheek there instead as his flames tickled uncomfortably against his face. He wrapped his arms around him and considered the emotions blooming to life in his soul. A peace and warmth he'd never known was taking root, had taken root before then and he was just noticing it. It was concerning that he'd let it burrow that deep. Or maybe it had been there for years and he'd ignored it all along, only letting it blossom now that he had no choice but to face it.

But he was still trapped. Still unable to leave.

Unless Until he could convince Grillby otherwise.

Chapter Text

(Day Twenty-Four)

Sans had been feeling generous, a little sadistic, and ready to try negotiating. It had been ten days since they'd had sex and Sans hadn't let anything physical progress past fully-clothed embraces at night, along with a few teases throughout the day. Tracing his hand over Grillby's lower back when he walked by, grabbing his waist and half-wrapping his arm across his back to tug him snug against his side as he asked questions about whatever Grillby was cooking or doing, or just watching him intently without asking anything, leaning over the back of the couch and trailing his fingers up the back of his neck and sighing over his throat... And a half-dozen other soft things.

They hadn't talked much, but had been spending more time together than before. Well, more time in a closer vicinity anyway. Reading together on the couch, both of them taking turns between picking albums to listen to, smoking on the porch and watching the snow fall.

As the days dragged on though, Sans found himself getting a little more aggressive with his teasing. Slowly pushing Grillby toward the wall downstairs before abruptly shoving him the last few inches, causing a shower of sparks over Grillby's face before he walked away with a wink. Roughly grabbing his hips from behind and pulling a startled sound from Grillby as he jerked his ass against him before running his hands up his chest under his shirt as he braced against the counter. And just that morning he'd harshly tugged Grillby into a frantic, messy kiss in the hall upstairs, grinding their bodies together until they were both gasping. Sans pulled away when he realized he was cupping Grillby's dick over his jeans and smirked at shocking a groan out of the elemental.

Maintaining some composure, he leaned back, leaving Grillby breathless and hard and confused yet again before he turned and jogged down the stairs so they could get breakfast. He realized needed to do something soon if wanted to get something out of all the built-up tension before he caved-in like he had before.

He called Grillby over to the couch after lunch. He cut his sockets seductively up at the other man, smirking devilishly when Grillby blushed, tensing at the look he was giving him.

Sans couldn't help chuckling a little, he was definitely enjoying how easy it was to make the elemental melt for him every time he threw a scrap of attention his way. He chewed his lip for a second before he hooked his fingers over Grillby's belt and guided him to stand in front of him.

Grillby did his best to keep his breathing even and calm as his heart pounded in his chest and lust-driven magic rushed through his veins. His eyes widened when Sans slid to the edge of his seat on the couch and he bounced his brow once up at him before he dropped his gaze and tugged his belt open.

Oh… My God…

Was Sans finally showing him mercy? After so long taunting him, keeping him close in bed and at all hours of the day and after outright forbidding him to get off, Grillby was reaching the very edge of his restraint. He wouldn't force himself on Sans, but he was willing to risk getting kicked out of his bed to just fucking cum already. Even if it was alone.

He'd lost count of how many times Sans had smacked his shoulder or chest to wake him in the middle of an intense dream, complaining he was dry-humping him in his sleep. It had been several times the night before. After the third time, Sans told him to leave if he couldn't control himself. Grillby had promised he would and then laid awake for the rest of the night, just to have Sans grind the back of his thigh against his lap when he woke up. He had reached for Sans to pull him close, to kiss him, to beg the skeleton fuck him again finally, but stopped when Sans sat up and left to get ready for the day.

He released a shaking sigh of relief, watching as Sans unbuttoned his jeans. He breathed sharply through his teeth when Sans held his waistband and pulled the zipper down with his teeth. "Fu–" he bit his tongue, afraid any noise would make him stop.

"Don't have to be quiet, baby-doll." Sans purred before he kissed, he kissed his hard cock over his boxers.

"O-oh, fuuuck…"  

Sans chuckled again, low and prideful. He slid his hands around to Grillby's ass and pulled him closer, kissing his erection again.

Grillby began to tremble in anticipation and restraint. He was grasping at control with his fingertips, eyes shut tight as he focused intensely on standing completely still. He sighed steam, head tipped back as Sans slipped his fingers under the elastic of his waistband and slowly pulled it under his dick. He gasped in shock when he felt Sans' cool hand wrap weakly around him.

"Want it?" Sans asked smugly, already knowing the answer. Grillby looked down at him, desperation in his furrowed eyes as he nodded with a short whimper, biting his lips to keep from flat-out begging for him. "Work for it," Sans told him, tone sharp as his gaze while he held his hand in place.

Grillby's face twisted slightly in confusion.

"Fuck my hand, you idiot." Sans half-snapped with a short roll of his pupils.

Indigo sparks danced across Grillby's face, but he was frozen in shock.

"Or I could ju-" Sans started with a shrug, beginning to pull his hand away.

"NO! Fuck, don't! Please, Sans."

"Then fucking move." Sans growled up at him.

Grillby nodded, cautiously working his hips. His muscles relaxed as he whined in sweet, sweet relief. His eyes closed softly as he found a rhythm. His thoughts drifted, wondering what Sans would feel like inside. As cool as his touch? Wet and soft and–

Sans slapped his hand away when he reached for his wrist without thinking. "What? This isn't good enough for you?" 

"I-I wa-wasn't… I didn't me-"

"I asked a question you fucker. Answer it." Sans pulled his hand away and Grillby gave a devastated sound.

"Yes, yes," Grillby nodded, looking down at him. "Yes, thi-this is good enough. Please, please, don't stop." He begged. "Pleaaase, Sans…"

"Hands to your fucking self, got it?" Sans snapped.

"Yes, yes, I got it."

"Good," Sans replied with an arrogant smirk as he wrapped his hand around him again.

"Oh, fuuuck… Thank you," Grillby sighed as he started working his hips again. He groaned loudly when Sans tightened his grip. Something Sans would never admit he did in pure reflex as something pulled in his gut at his words. He'd softened briefly after they had sex, but once the sexual tension was gone Sans had been reminded fully of the situation. And he was sick of it. He wanted to leave.

The fact that he couldn't get an answer out of Grillby about whether or not his brother was still trying to talk to him for the past four days was only solidifying his resolve.

"How much longer are you gonna be?" Sans asked impatiently, ignoring the way his heart began to race at the thought.

"Nngh, ne-nearly there… Please, please don't stop. Don't make me stop…" Grillby softly pleaded, his hands running up to the back of his neck as he needed to do something with himself or he was going to risk upsetting Sans. His head tilted back again as pleasure began to coil low, he tangled his fingers in his own flames as he grit his teeth. He wanted to finish so desperately, but he didn't want it to end so suddenly either. His chest began to heave in impending bliss and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

"You wanna cum on my face?" Sans offered sweetly.

Grillby's head snapped down to look at him to see if he was serious. His cock pulsed in Sans' grip and he nodded, breathing faster as his hips began to falter. "YES!" he shouted.

"I'll let you," Sans told him with a smile. His sockets hardened. "But you're going to take me to town if you do."

Grillby shut his eyes to hold back, flinching with a sharp moan when Sans tightened his grip yet again. "F-fuck!" He fought himself, so achingly close to ecstasy. "Nnno!" He jerked as he said it, impossibly close to finishing.

"No?" Sans asked incredulously, "I'm sorry, I thought you wanted to cum. Was I wrong?"

"Nnngh! FUCK! You know I do!"

"Then take me back into town bastard, and I'll let you."

Grillby whimpered, still weakly chasing bliss in Sans' hand. He was shaking as he looked down at the skeleton. He bit his lips, eyes closing tight as he shook his head.

Sans shrugged and dropped his hand, his sockets did briefly rise in shock when Grillby actually sobbed. His hands practically clawed down his throat before he caught a steadying breath.

Sans snatched his wrists when his hands went for his dick and Grillby groaned in bitter disappointment. 

"Don't you fucking dare. Not in front of me. I don't want to see that shit." Sans snarled at him.

"Please!" 

"No," Sans resolutely repeated. "You're welcome to go upstairs and take care of it if you want, but I don't want to see it, or hear it. And I'm not going to fucking touch you until you let me leave this fucking house!"

Grillby collapsed in front of him with a strangled cry of desperation. "I-I can't… I can't…" he repeated, shaking his head as his shoulders trembled with another sob.

Sans furiously sighed, tossing Grillby's wrists away from him. If he couldn't convince him while that fucking desperate, he had no chance of ever convincing him.

"Shut up," he snapped when Grillby quietly sobbed again. He shifted his jaw in thought, glancing down when Grillby hugged his arms and a shudder went through him. He sighed again in resignation as he laid back against the couch. He closed his sockets with a deep breath before he said, "What do you want from me to let me see my brother?"

"I c-ca–" Grillby stuttered while shaking his head.

"Shut up! Yes you can, you just won't!" Sans viciously shot back, making Grillby flinch and tuck himself in even tighter. He dragged his hands down his face, growling into his palms in rage.

Grillby took a slow breath, and then another. "You… you'd have to wear the collar. You can't leave the bar. He can meet you there. And you stay where I can see you."

"No fucking way, I'm not going out in this fucking thing! Are you insane?!" Sans scoffed after the words left his mouth. "What am I saying? Of course you are…" When Grillby stayed silent, his body finally still where he knelt on the floor, Sans realized he wasn't going to budge.

"Fine," he growled. "But I get a full shift at the bar. I get to talk to someone who isn't you. You leave me the fuck alone when Papyrus is there."

"And you'll come back with me." Grillby added darkly, finally looking back up at him.

"Yeah, you fucking psycho, I'll go back with you." Sans replied with frustrated resignation.

Grillby visibly relaxed, sighing.

"I'm not wearing this thing though." Sans told him with an angry shake of his skull.

"Then you're not leaving." Grillby replied, his tone severe.

Sans hesitated, considering removing himself even further from him. Threatening to kick him out of bed would probably backfire, he'd been keeping him that close to prevent him from getting any kind of sexual relief, hoping he could use it as leverage. For fun when he'd first suggested it, but then with purpose after the fact. If Grillby wasn't within arm's reach twenty-four seven no way would Grillby resist ignoring that demand. And then where would that leave him? 

Cold and alone in bed every night.

Refusing to talk to him again probably wouldn't get him anywhere either. 

And then he'd have no one to talk to. 

He dragged a hand down his face with a heavy sigh and a quiet growl. He instead told Grillby, "You think Pap won't see this thing and know exactly what's going on? I can't hide this thing! It's huge! You can clearly see the fucking runes on it, Grillby. You'd see it under a sweater and I don't wear scarves. Dude, you can see it when my coat's zipped..." he lost steam near the end, anger fading out.

"He'd fuckin' kill you on the spot if he saw it…" he added, drained now that his week and a half long plan had basically fallen-through.

And he'd been too ashamed and disgusted with himself to get-off the past week, too. Too distracted by his thoughts always, always going to Grillby when he got a chance alone. The first and second times had been sheer desperation to keep some modicum of control over himself around Grillby. The third was trying to twist the knife. There hadn't been a fourth. Not alone again anyway and not since they'd slept together over a week ago. Something he was still struggling to come to terms with. The way it had felt so natural and easy and so goddamn satisfying to have Grillby willing and trusting and begging for him...

He was currently doing his best to ignore that the little stunt he'd just pulled had left him achingly hard.

He knew he could get Grillby to get him off, it would probably even work in his favor. He could be in total control. And God had it felt amazing when Grillby gave him a blow-job that night... If they stayed where they were, he could properly fuck Grillby's face. His fingers tangled in his flames as he-

He sighed again, face twisting angrily as he forced himself to stop getting distracted by sex. He had more important shit to worry about.

Grillby dropped his hands with a long, deep sigh. "What…" he struggled to catch his breath, staring back at the ceiling. "What if I make you a new one?"

Sans looked at him, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't he snapped impatiently, "Go on?"

"One that… looks uh, nice?" He looked at Sans, checking his expression before he kept going. Seeing he wasn't totally against or disgusted by the idea he explained, "It won't be obvious that it's… magic-cancelling. I'm going to add a magic ward to track it too, since you'd be out of the house. But, it will look like a normal one. I'll make it look like a real one."

Sans blinked at him in flustered anger. "I've only been gone what, three weeks?! That is way too fast to believably have a collar. Pap, fuck, no one even suspected we were together until this fucking-! Shit-show!"

"I'll make it look however you want," Grillby told him sweetly, still breathing heavy.

Sans looked away, hiding and denying the way that stupid fucking expression and stupid fucking sentence made heat rush to his face. He'd never even considered being collared by someone. To just fucking… put it out there that he belonged entirely to someone else. Fuck, his brother was bonded to Undyne and didn't even wear a collar… Neither of them did. And they'd been together for fucking ever. Nearly fifteen years and bonded sometime after two or three. (Their jobs probably meant they shouldn't publicly declare they were that important to each other, but they didn't show it outwardly in any way either.)

Even with the conviction it was temporary until he could get away from Grillby, it was still a difficult thing to wrap his mind around.

"You have to wear one, too." Sans said with quiet petulance. If he was going to be embarrassed and talked about and gawked at, so would Grillby. 

Unfortunately, Grillby didn't see it that way.

To Sans' surprise, Grillby slowly moved closer, now kneeling between his spread legs. Sans started to move back but Grillby's dumbfounded, loving expression stopped him and what he said hit him. 

"It's not like that!" Sans snapped, shoving Grillby back. But not hard enough to actually move the other man. "It is literally just to fucking get away from you for one fucking day! "

Grillby chuckled. "I'm gonna make it match, you know."

"Fine, whatever." Sans scoffed with a shrug, shaking his skull as he looked away. "How long will it take?"

Grillby sighed, chewing his bottom lip in thought as his gaze went distant. "I'll need to double-check, but I can probably have them ready by tomorrow evening."

"Rea-? That fast?" Sans unconsciously perked up in hope, sitting up straighter and his expression drastically softening.

"The hardest part is keeping the runes unbroken. It has to cool off naturally or it could disrupt the magic. That takes a few hours at least, overnight to be safe."

"And how would you make it look 'nice'?" Sans snidely asked. At the mention of 'runes' he was harshly reminded of the heavy topic they were discussing and how much he was having to concede to gain any ground. His body was unpleasantly tingling from the heat of Grillby's own body between his legs. Something that was making him increasingly uncomfortable and not in the ways it had before.

"I'll cover it in leather. It'll look just like any other collar, I promise. Only cheap assholes use just leather or metal anyway. And a gold or silver one would take too long and be too obvious anyway."

"And what? You're not a cheap asshole? Just a psychotic one?" Sans snapped, steadfastly ignoring the heat in his face that he knew was visible. Fucking idiot would bring up silver and gold, wouldn't he?

Grillby chuckled again, brighter than Sans liked. "What do you want it to look like?"

"I-I dunno," Sans replied sharply. He shifted uncomfortably but Grillby still didn't get the hint. Or he did and was still using that 'silence as permission' bull shit. Something he realized he definitely reminded him of a week ago. "Dealer's choice. I don't care." he added flippantly.

Grillby smiled at him before sliding back and zipping his jeans before he stood. He buckled his belt and Sans let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been half-holding. Having such a bizarre, weirdly intimate conversation while Grillby was between his knees, cock out, had been too intense for his liking.

It didn't help a single thing that the conversation had so completely changed Grillby's attitude. From a literal begging mess of a man to bright and excited.

"I have some leather-working supplies, come take a look."

*

Recognizing Sans was uncomfortable and still flustered at the whole idea of wearing an obvious collar in public, and now that Grillby had latched onto the idea of wearing a matching one too, Grillby had left the room after laying out some of his leather-working samples on the dining room table. He opened a medium-sized leather bag full of thread for him to look through as well. He went downstairs, through a door Sans hadn't inspected since the first night he'd been able to roam free through the cabin.

As Sans stared blankly at the spread of tools, leather, little metal rings, and thread he heard a sound like a distant, quiet roar. It took him a little bit to recognize it was coming from the door at his back. He twisted in his chair and saw a low pulsing orange and blue glow from the open doorway.

Taking the distraction from the incredibly complicated situation he'd just created, Sans curiously walked closer. Grillby left the door cracked after all, it wasn't like he was sneaking in (he was and he knew it). He peeked through the door and could see Grillby's silhouette against a smooth mud-brick fireplace that was hip-high. There was a stone chimney that hung over the open fire that was illuminated when Grillby leaned close and breathed blue fire over the flickering coals.

Sans swallowed to parch his throat, suddenly dry from the heat drifting up from the small basement. At least that's what he convinced himself.

Grillby stood upright as he turned the length of steel sitting in the heart of the forge. Curiosity bubbling higher than lust, Sans watched silently for several minutes. His heart leapt to his throat, sockets widening when Grillby turned with the steel in his bare hand and he finally realized he was shirtless. Something twisted to life in Sans' chest when Grillby laid the white-hot steel on the anvil to his left and lifted a hammer to flatten the metal into a thin strip.

Oh… My fucking God…

He watched with bated breath while Grillby expertly turned the steel rod over and patiently swung the hammer down from just over his shoulder. He set the hammer down and twisted to reach for another instrument of some kind. The fire at his back illuminated the vicious scars that trailed down either side of his spine that Sans had seen a week ago (and never again since) and he gave an audible shudder.

Sans stood beside the door to the basement, having shut it in mortal humiliation when he couldn't control the sound he'd made after seeing the other man working at the forge. He still had his hand clasped tightly over his mouth, his other clutched at his shirt over his chest where his heart pounded harshly against his ribcage.

Like Grillby pounding steel into white-hot submission…

Sans tightly shut his sockets and tapped his skull against the wall behind him as he fought to control himself.

Goddamn it! Why did it have to be like this?!

Not for the first time since he woke up in Grillby's cabin, Sans found himself wishing desperately that Grillby had just waited those five seconds for him to finish his sentence before he locked him to the bed upstairs. How different could the past weeks have gone if Grillby had been fucking normal and just invited Sans for breakfast downstairs?! They could have talked, smoked, probably even fucked again a time or two before Sans left later that day, or more likely, the next morning.

They could have been awkward and weird the next time Sans went to the bar. Sans could have sent him raunchy texts and pointed looks. They could have sneaked away and Sans could have taken them somewhere for a quickie and then come back with Grillby flustered and disheveled while he tried to continue his shift at work. Or with Sans unable to stand without his legs shaking.

But noooo...

He had to be a secret stalking psychopath. Obsessed and possessive and… still so persistent without crossing the line into actual abuse that Sans could focus on to dissuade all the intrusive, confusing and longing thoughts. Shit, he'd pushed him long past the point of desperation he thought was even possible and he not only listened to what he commanded him to do, he didn't even touch him. He hadn't even attempted to make Sans do a damn thing after he told him he couldn't.

Had he begged for it? Tried to keep Sans' hand in place? Fucking sobbed when Sans stopped?! Yeah, he did all of those things. But Grillby had also stopped himself with a level of restraint he, again, didn't think was possible.

God, why was that hot?!

Why did he have to be a fucking psycho?!

How dare he have that one massive, glaring, inexcusable flaw and nothing else!

Why'd Grillby have to fuck it up and make it so, so fucking complicated?!

He wanted to sit on the bottom steps of the basement staircase and just stare, watching in aroused awe as Grillby worked. He didn't know if the elemental could sweat but he found himself picturing it steaming as it trailed over his temples, down his spine, and down his scarred abs… His skull tipped back as he imagined calloused, soot-covered hands dragging softly across his skin. Toned, shimmering muscle rolling against him. A gentle, firm, and hot embrace encircling him. Wisps of violet flame twisting through his fingers as heavy breathing and quiet, reverent sighs of his name filled his ears… 

The hand on his mouth slowly fell to his neck, fingertips resting just under his chin as he gradually wrenched his wandering thoughts back to the present.

He returned to his own body with a deep breath, opening his sockets with a long, quiet sigh. His pupils landed on the dining table and he found it much easier to make several choices to put together something he was surprisingly content with. He told himself that if he was going to be seen in public in a goddamn collar he might as well make it something he liked. Especially considering he didn't know how long he'd be wearing it. 

Forever...

*

Sans was still sitting at the table when Grillby returned. To Sans' distantly acknowledged disappointment, he had a shirt on once more. The image of Grillby's scarred back lit by the low-burning forge flashed through Sans' mind and he sharply looked back at the table where he'd set aside his choices. Grillby leaned closer on his hands on the table near Sans' right shoulder.

The skeleton needed a second to reboot his brain after he smelled hot metal and smoke clinging to the other man's skin. The underlying smell of winter spices mingled together with it so enticingly he totally lost his train of thought. Thankfully, it seemed like Grillby didn't notice.

"So, whatcha got?" Grillby asked.

Sans cleared his throat, pointing to the matte-black leather and dark red thread he'd set aside. "Um, th-this leather I think. With this thread and uh," he hesitated, feeling a little foolish as he tapped one of the designs stamped on a scrap of leather before sliding it closer to Grillby. "K-kinda like the way this one looks, too." It was a small but elegant swirl of filigree. Very similar to the design he just realized he'd seen on one of Grillby's belts. But it was too late to take it back without telling him that. He just hoped Grillby didn't notice that either.

"Yeah, I can do that." Grillby told him, picking up the sample. "You want mine to be the same?"

Sans didn't look up at him as he set the indigo-blue thread in front of him without speaking.

"Ah, is that the only difference?" 

"Yeah," Sans replied with a short nod. "And um," he started, finding a piece of smug mischief before he looked up at Grillby. He needed a split-second to recover when he noticed soot smudged near his temple and down one of his forearms and several of his short fantasies from earlier flashed through his mind. How had he never noticed the way muscle roped over his arms before? Of course he noticed he had muscle he just hadn't... appreciated it. And how dare it be so fucking distracting once he did! Nevermind he never had the chance to appreciate the sight before the last few weeks!

Sans had yet another distracting realization. This was almost definitely the most casual Grillby had dressed around anyone since Sans met him. And he had the honor to see it?! No one else?!

"Yes?" Grillby prompted, unaware of why Sans had paused.

"Uh-um," Sans looked away to mentally shake himself before he returned to his smug smirk, if a little less confident than before. "Yours is gonna have a lock too, right?" 

Blue sparks danced over Grillby's cheeks. "It-it can, if you want it to."

Sans shrugged, biting his lip teasingly as his confidence quickly bounced back. "They're supposed to match, right? Be odd if mine had a lock and yours didn't."

"Um, y-yeah," Grillby nodded, looking quickly down at the thread and leather samples in his hands. "Yeah, I c-can do that." 

"Can I keep the key?" Sans questioned, feeling much better with the ball sliding back into his court. 

Grillby looked back at him in flat shock. "Wh-what?"

"Well," Sans shrugged. "yours isn't gonna do anything but look pretty. Why not let me keep the key?"

"Why?" 

"C'mon, gimme something here, Grillbs." Sans lightly teased with a half-roll of his pupils.

"N-no, I don't mind, I just want to understand."

Sans trailed his fingers up Grillby's thigh before tracing across his belt. He hooked his fingers over the top of his buckle like he had earlier and softly tugged him closer. "If you're gonna keep me hostage, then I'm gonna do the same to you." he purred, looking directly up at him.

Sans laughed, pulling his hand away when he felt the telling bulge press against his wrist. "Whoa, that got a reaction, huh?"

Grillby cleared his throat and took a step back.

"I don't mind, I just want to understand." Sans quipped smugly.

Grillby's blush sparked across his entire face and he looked away. "U-um," he cleared his throat again. "Really uh, like the idea of that." He haltingly admitted.

"Heh, yeah?"

Grillby nodded, glancing down at Sans once more.

"How fucked-up are you?" Sans asked with a laugh.

Grillby chuckled, running a hand down the back of his head to rest at the top of spine. He looked away with a weak smile. "Like you don't have some idea already?" He asked, giving him a knowing expression that made Sans' stomach flip. He let his arm drop and his smile at Sans warmed. Standing there in front of him, shirt and skin brushed with metal ash and soot. His expression more relaxed than he'd seen in weeks, posture easy and self-assured. Fuck. It was doing all sorts of things to erode Sans' stubborn resistance to admit his infuriating attraction to the other man.

And frankly, he was getting tired of his own vacillating feelings about Grillby. Why couldn't he just pick a side and stick to it?!

Ugh, fuck it... 

"How long of a break do you have?" Sans asked slyly.

"Uh, couple hours?" Grillby shrugged, glancing toward the kitchen.

Sans frowned in thought and looked down at Grillby's crotch which was now helpfully at just below eye-level. Maybe a few inches or so, definitely comfortably manageable if he leaned down. Much better angle than they'd had on the couch earlier.

Grillby turned to ask what he wanted for dinner and stopped. Sans slid closer, to the edge of his seat, spreading his knees before he put his palms on Grillby's hips. He slid his hands around him to his ass and jerked him close, purposely repeating the same move as earlier; making him stumble as he stepped forward with a short, sharp inhale.

Casting his pupils up his body, Sans kissed his cock through his jeans. He hummed smugly, staying in place for a moment before he pulled back and slowly started to unbuckle his belt.

Grillby's heart sprinted to action like he hadn't just been burned only several hours earlier with the same move. "S-Sans? I-I'm uh, I got pretty sweaty and you pro–! Oh-!"

The moment the word 'sweaty' left his lips Sans stopped dealing with his belt and tugged his waistband down. He had to stop himself from instantly taking him in his mouth, reminding himself that he was supposed to be the composed one in this fucked-up dynamic they had.

"W-well, that got a reaction, huh?" Grillby asked with a shaking, but pleased smile.

"Shut up," Sans whispered without bite, staring at the dick an inch from his face as he debated if he was willing to let the other man know one of his closely-guarded kinks. One he hadn't exactly expected to be an issue during this whole ordeal considering how much control he'd have to give up to indulge in it. And how rarely he let anyone else do it to him, if they were even willing to let him try.

Fuck it. I'm too horny to think straight, right? This should help. Not like I could get laid in town with a fucking collar on and Grillby watching me like a hawk.

A fun scenario ran through his mind though. What would Grillby look like if he did manage that and he found out? Maybe letting someone fuck him in the bathroom and Grillby walking in to look for him after being gone for so long. How pissed would he be?

What would he do to Sans to remind him who he 'belonged' to…?

"I got a few conditions, got it?" Sans told him sternly, shoving that idea far from his mind.

"Ye-yes?"

"Don't ask me to do this again, and uh," Sans sighed, looking down and closing his sockets to say it out loud. "You don't get to cum in my mouth."

"Wh-? Serio-?" Grillby fumbled his words in shock. Sans angrily cut his sockets up at him and he snapped out of it. "Yeah, yes. You got it." He told him with a quick nod.

Sans shifted even closer, wrapping his hand loosely around his cock. His other hand pulled at Grillby's waistband. Grillby quickly unclasped his belt under Sans' chin and unzipped his jeans with shaking hands to give him plenty of room. Sans needed a second to compose himself again, closing his sockets for two breaths.

He leaned in and lightly pulled the elastic of his boxers lower, gently kissing the inside of his hip before he started slowly working the hand around Grillby's shaft. He looked up in time to catch Grillby's head tilting to the side, eyes flickering. He kept his pupils staring up until Grillby looked down once more.

With a smirk, Sans dragged his tongue up toward his navel, chuckling when Grillby shivered without breaking eye-contact. With a soft growl he dragged his teeth down his skin and Grillby bit his lips with a quiet moan, struggling to keep his eyes open.

Still working his hand slowly, Sans slightly turned his skull to the left and licked the base of his cock.

"Ff-fuck, fuck." 

Sans noticed his hands reach for him before clenching into fists at his sides. For his restraint he pulled his skull back and kissed the head of his dick, chuckling with pride when Grillby's eyes finally shut tight and his body tensed. He teased him a little while longer, slowly licking under the head before just barely wrapping his lips around it. Again, Grillby started to reach for him, hands shaking before he sharply pulled away with a groan.

Sans leaned back and smiled up at him, breathing hard like he always did anytime Sans initiated sex. Which was not at all surprising considering how harshly he'd been denied only a few hours before and how long he'd gone without relief.

"Not scared of the teeth are you?" Sans asked, licking the edges of his sharp teeth.

Grillby slowly shook his head. "I-I trust you,"

Well, fuck! Not a single person had ever said that about his fucking teeth before! Sans dropped his hand and pulled his cock halfway into his mouth, carefully covering his teeth by rolling his lips over them. 

Goddamnit! FUCK YOU! Sans shouted internally in indignant fury at Grillby for making him react like that, completely out of his own control.

"Nngh! Fuck, ye-ess!"  

Sans moaned in sympathy at Grillby's sudden cry, sockets fluttering.

Grillby managed to look down, chest heaving through an arrogant smile. "S-so you do like when I–?"

Sans glared up at him and snatched his wrists, pulling his hands to the back of his skull and interrupting his cocky remark.

"R-really?"

Sans angrily rolled his pupils and nodded, pulling him deeper.

"Sh-shit, Sans," Grillby breathed before he cautiously pulled his skull closer and then nervously, slowly pushed him back.

Impatiently, Sans grabbed his ass and jerked him flush with his face. He would have moaned again when Grillby curled forward, cussing breathlessly as he clutched the back of his skull. But his mouth, and throat, were full.

"D-don't want gentle, g-got it," Grillby panted, nodding with his eyes closed, letting Sans know he understood. Sans nodded too before swallowing intentionally.

"Fuck!"

That was quickly becoming Sans' favorite word.

"Ghh! Y-you want an-any warning? Or just to st-stop when I get close?"

Sans held up two fingers.

"Can I uh, just hold you in place?" Grillby asked, pulling back enough to let Sans breathe. Sans immediately huffed and leaned back. Sensing he was going to tell him off like he'd done before when asking 'too many' questions, Grillby took a risk and instead thrust his hips roughly.

Sans moaned in shock, his hands clawed down Grillby's jeans as his jaw dropped open.

"Alright, uh, got the message I think."

Breathing heavy through his nose, Sans looked up. He blinked a few times to focus, hands resting against Grillby's thighs. His sockets widened as he took in the expression he hadn't seen on the other man's face before. Actually, he wasn't sure he'd seen it on anyone before.

A downright sinful confidence stared down at him. Grillby hummed smugly, running a hand over Sans' skull. His voice was dark as his head tilted slightly, a white eye quirking in appreciation of the sight of Sans desperate and pleading for fucking once, even if silently. His mouth full of his cock.

"You don't want me to ask you to do this again, because you're in the mood to be controlled for a change, right love?" Grillby asked as he gently started to roll his hips.

Sans blinked slowly, sockets half-lidding as he nodded without thinking. He didn't want to think anymore. It was fucking exhausting. And what had it gotten him? Fuck all. He was still trapped. Still more sexually pent-up than he'd ever been. He hadn't even felt this insane during a heat; out of his head, definitely, but never like this. His arm still twisted and the odds of escape slim. Could he get a message to his brother without Grillby noticing? How? There was no way Grillby would leave him out of sight long enough or to give him a note or something without him noticing. 

And as suspicious as he thought it would be to have Grillby attached at his hip, would it be though? They'd been completely isolated for nearly a month. They were going to come back to town with matching collars. Such a publicly abrupt change in relationship status along with an overbearing lover followed by returning to seclusion was practically screaming they were nesting, had a souling, or trying for a souling. Which was yet another thing he wasn't sure how he'd quell rumors of.

He was probably fucked. What was thinking about it more going to do?

"Sans?" The skeleton looked back up at him, his cock still gliding smoothly against his tongue. "You tap my leg twice if you need me to stop, alright?"

A thread of awareness wove through Sans pleasantly muddled thoughts and he nodded again.

"Show me that you understand, do it."

Sans needed a second to make his body work properly after hearing the firm command. He used both hands to pat Grillby's thighs.

"Good," he sighed, savoring the way Sans' sockets fluttered again at the praise. "Ready?"

A piece of Sans' usual stubborn personality shined through as his brow twitched in a quick flash of frustration. But he still nodded, reaching higher to wrap his fingers around Grillby's jeans.

"Just remember to breathe,"

Sans huffed at him again, pupils sharpening before Grillby held the back of his skull tightly and snapped his hips forward.

Grillby sighed, briefly licking the smug smile on his lips as he thrust his hips and Sans just melted under him with a low, hitched moan. 

Sans let go and found himself swept into the moment, grabbing fistfuls of Grillby's jeans to urge him to move faster, harder, anything to keep him making those fucking incredible sounds above him. Harsh breaths through his grit teeth, quiet sighs of his name (just like he'd imagined earlier), cussing with a slight falter of his hips, his hands tightly gripping his skull with a sudden harsh thrust and a wordless groan when Sans swallowed around him.

He was pissed at himself that he hadn't done this sooner. Completely ignoring his reasons why. He didn't fucking care anymore! He was so, so fucking tired of resisting what he actually wanted from the depths of his very soul. So tired of denying the truth, no matter how uncomfortable or humiliating it was. It didn't change the fact that it was true!

He desperately, deeply wanted Grillby. As fucked as it was and as terrifying and insane as the whole situation was. He didn't fucking care that he was basically helpless and dependent on him for everything. Food, shelter, comfort, company, sex…

He still wanted him.

He craved having every single fucking broken piece of Grillby to himself. To him alone. And he knew Grillby would willingly and eagerly hand it over. And fuck, it was the hottest thing he'd ever had placed before him.

So, for now at least, he wasn't going to fight it anymore.

Grillby stared intently down at Sans, in total disbelief that it was real life. Sans' face was dazed, his pupils blown out and fuzzy. He was moaning or whining in direct response to his every sound or hard thrust. If he hadn't felt Sans' harsh grip on his thighs he would have thought Sans was touching himself while he fucked his face.

Grillby's head tilted back with a broken gasp as the image flashed through his mind. He looked down at Sans again, still moving smoothly. "Sans?"

"Mmnnh?" The skeleton's sockets barely opened, his fuzzy pupils weakly looking for him.

"Sa-Sans, touch yourself."

A spark of clarity danced through his sockets and he hesitated. 

Taking another risk, Grillby pulled from something Sans had snapped at him multiple times. He slid carefully free of Sans' mouth and pulled on his drool-soaked chin as he leaned closer. "That wasn't a fucking suggestion. Do it."

Sans shuddered, sockets closed as his hands drifted from Grillby's legs and to his own lap. He pulled his dick free and took it in hand, looking back up at Grillby with an open-mouthed groan, curling forward before he grit his teeth and groaned again with his next breath.

"Open your mouth," Grillby told him. Sans obeyed, breathing hard as he mindlessly worked his hand in his lap. "So good for me, love…" Grillby sighed as he guided his cock back into Sans' eager mouth.

Sans' body relaxed with a low moan when Grillby started moving again. This time rougher and a little faster than before. He whined, his own gut pulled tight when Grillby began to quietly cuss under his breath. He could tell he was getting close. "Mm-hm," he encouraged, "Mm-hm!" he urged. He nodded drunkenly when he stared up at him, making eye-contact before Grillby twisted his face in concentration.

God! He hadn't expected Sans to be so fucking eager and obedient like that! To dive so deep into sub-space he'd completely forget what he'd said at the start.

He cried-out when Sans leaned closer, tipping his chin up to make it easier for Grillby to fully-hilt against his lips. Motivating him to go until he came. Right into his throat.

"Nnngh!" Grillby fought with himself, pulling back from the brink when he looked down again at Sans' dumb, love-drunk expression. "FUCK!" 

Using every ounce of his willpower and also determined to get the most out of this opportunity, (God only knew when or if he'd ever get to again) he held Sans tight to his body and groaned through his teeth, "Sw-swallow,"

Sans choked on a moan that tried to escape around the cock in his throat, but he listened.

"Ah-ffffuuck… Ahn-nngh! Again, one mm-mmore time!"

Sans did it again and Grillby immediately jerked back with a strangled cry, barely avoiding cumming straight into Sans' throat. He braced his hands on the chair and the table, struggling to breathe after his intense, long-denied, orgasm. Already his muscles tensed and a full-body shiver ran through him as he recalled the feel of Sans moaning around his cock. The way his mouth had quickly grown warm from the glide of his much hotter skin. How Sans' cooler body temperature had only made his cock harder.

When he opened his eyes he froze. Sans was staring back up at him with one socket squeezed shut and a smile of astonishingly good-natured disbelief on his face. There were also several ribbons of purple-tinted cum painted across most of his face. Specifically over his left socket and down his neck.

"Dude," Sans laughed, the heavy spell he'd been under broken. "the fuck?"

"Oh, shit!"

"Don't worry about it," Sans chuckled. "You um, managed to listen to what I asked and holy fuck, I don't know how." He wiped at his socket with another laugh, blinking a few times to be sure he got it off. "Because I'm pretty sure I forgot." He chuckled again. "And I guess I did say you could cum on my face if you took me into town, so..." Without thinking, he licked the edge of his mouth where cum had begun to drip down his cheekbone.

To his shock, Grillby fell to his knees in front of him. Hard. 

"Holy shit, you good?" Sans asked with concern.

Without speaking, Grillby took Sans' wrist and licked the back of his slick fingers. Not looking away, he slid his middle fingers into his mouth to the knuckles. He rolled his tongue over his skin and gave him a seductive grin when Sans stared blankly back at him.

"Oh," Sans said simply, too shocked and turned-on to do much else.

Grillby pulled his hand free and reached closer, he held the back of Sans' skull with his hand and dragged his tongue from just above Sans' collar all the way to his jaw.

"O-oh, fffuck…" Sans panted. He tilted his skull back to expose his throat, leaning into Grillby's palm as he licked his neck again, up over the edge of his jaw. When he gave a shorter lick over his cheekbone Sans realized what he was doing and shivered, breathing harder. "G-God, that's really fuckin' hot, keep goin'." Sans let that slip as he ran his fingers through the flames near Grillby's neck. He didn't realize it until Grillby gave a dark, smug chuckle against his jaw.

Fuck it, I've given up this much already. I'm just gonna play this out. I deserve a little fun…

"Keep goin', just don't break the skin." Sans told him with a breathless laugh.

"When I'm done," Grillby breathed. "But if I do it now, you're gonna be gross. And I should clean up the mess I made…"

No fucking shit. Sans thought. "Y-yeah…" He lamely agreed. He gave in to Grillby's patient kisses long after his face and neck were clean, not even protesting as Grillby slid his free hand under his shirt when he pulled him into a gentle, deep kiss. His hand slid lower, trailing his fingertips down his stomach until he reached Sans' still-exposed cock. 

Sans ripped away from their kiss with a gasp, hand gripping the other man's back. He groaned into his shoulder as he worked his warm, so, so warm, hand around him. Grillby kissed softly down his jaw to his throat, licking his frantic pulse. Sans' other hand grabbed the back of his head, tangling in his flames as he silently urged him to bite down.

"Nngh!" Sans tensed when Grillby's hand picked up the pace and tightened. He teased over his throat, sighing hot breath against him. "Ff-fuck! Fuck! Please!" Sans cried-out.

Grillby's breath hitched, his hand faltering. Had Sans ever begged like that during their brief, purposely interrupted sex before? Genuinely? Desperately?  

"Please, what?" Grillby whispered, unable to raise his voice but realizing it worked to his advantage. "What do you want, my love?"

"B-bite me!"

Grillby bit down hard, holding back just enough to not make him bleed. Sans groaned through his clenched teeth, his hands tugged him even closer. "Fuck! Yes!"

Grillby bit him again, rolling his tongue and grinding his teeth against his skin. Sans squirmed in his chair, awkwardly grinding his hips to get more movement against the tight grip around his dick and clawing at Grillby's back and neck. "G-gonna-! Fuck! Grillby!" he shouted, voice echoing in the open first floor.

"Hand or mouth?" Grillby quickly asked, pulling back just barely to speak.

Sans was panting too hard to talk, he just pushed Grillby's shoulders down and he got the hint. "Just cum when you're ready, love." He told him before he quickly kissed down his torso. Sans' breathing picked up as he tried to watch while Grillby switched seamlessly from stroking him with his hand to taking him in his hot mouth.

His skull snapped back, his hands struggled to grasp something substantial and only managed to tear at Grillby's shirt as his hips were firmly held in place. "I-! Oh-! FUCK! GR-Griiilllby, YES!"

Sans held Grillby's head in place, curling forward over him as his hand fisted through his flames. He cried-out again when he felt Grillby swallow with purpose around him, his throat constricting divinely.

He rode out the entirety of his climax, shuddering in relief. Finally feeling satisfied after ten days of flat-out denying or ignoring the urge to touch himself when he had the chance.

He stared down at Grillby, his face still near his lap as he pulled away. He smiled up at him, thumbs softly kneading at his thighs. 

He's fucking gorgeous… Sans thought.

He slumped sideways against the chair, hands falling limp as Grillby's shredded shirt and wildly wiping flames slid through his fingers. He was still breathing hard and fighting all the nagging thoughts dancing at the edge of his mind. He shut his sockets, brow furrowing as he tried to just enjoy the peace simmering in his veins. Everything he'd come to terms with about the other man in the heat of the moment was now swirling with doubt and shame within his chest.

All except one thing. Something he immediately shoved away. He wasn't ready to admit that yet, not even to himself. Though it remained in the forefront of his mind, inescapable and burrowed deep. Impossible to ignore now that he'd realized it.

Grillby was still kneeling in front of him, sitting back on his heels with his forearms resting lightly on Sans' knees as he intently watched him come down from his high.

Sans looked down at him, that proud, dumb, adoring smile plastered on his face. He gave him a breathless, crooked grin. He grimaced slightly as he sat upright. Grillby began to stand and Sans stopped him, slipping clumsily from the chair to Grillby's lap, easily straddling him. He folded his legs back and kissed him, draping his arms over his shoulders.

One of Grillby's hands guided his skull in closer to deepen their kiss and the other held the small of Sans' back. Soon Sans' hands were holding Grillby's face, his thumbs stroking over his cheekbones.

When they came to a natural pause, Grillby tried to speak and Sans stopped him. "Shh," he whispered near his lips with a soft shake of his skull. They looked at each other, almost too close to see their faces clearly. Sans pulled him in for another kiss and Grillby didn't stop him.

Gently, Sans pulled away after another prolonged, gentle kiss. With his sockets closed he pressed his forehead against Grillby's, his fingers finally still against Grillby's cheeks. Without opening his sockets he planted a few lingering soft kisses on his lips before leaning away. 

He looked back at the other man, expression deeply conflicted as his pupils darted over his face still cradled in his hands. He shifted his weight and dropped his hands, slowly standing before he turned and walked silently upstairs.

*

Grillby finished the metalwork on their collars sometime after midnight. He only needed to focus intermittently, able to finish his own without really thinking and only pausing to double-check the runes he was hammering into Sans' collar. Which he was grateful for because he could not stop replaying images from the previous hours over and over and over in his mind. 

There were several times he had to stop, closing his eyes as a shiver ran down his spine. The absolute vision Sans had been, staring up at him eager and silently pleading, staring intently into his eyes. Or when his heart fluttered sweetly in his chest remembering the soft, dare he say loving, way Sans had straddled his lap and kissed him with more delicate affection than he'd ever experienced. Or expected from anyone, let alone Sans through all of this. He'd hoped for such a thing, but he'd never thought it could be possible. Not so suddenly in the context of the situation.

He glanced up the stairs to the open basement door. He'd unintentionally left his now unwearable (but far from ruined in his eyes, he'd be keeping it around for a long time) shirt that Sans had actually torn through when he screamed his name on the back of the chair Sans had occupied through all of it. He could see it clearly from where he stood in front of the small anvil, his back to the low-burning fire. The lines of shredded fabric visible.

It had been a frequent distraction as he worked but not one he was willing to remove.

Before he realized it, he'd finished carefully pounding the runes into the two semi-circles of Sans' new collar. He added the flat hinges on the back, hammering gently to not damage any of the delicate rune-work that laid beneath the hinge. For nearly thirty minutes his mind was completely focused on his task. Ensuring there was no way the collar would pinch or catch the leather when it closed. He made a mental note to check the leather often while he stitched it around it tomorrow. Though he frowned at the realization he'd have to replace the leather cover after a while as it creased or tore from opening and closing. They'd have to probably oil it pretty regularly.

He froze in place as he processed what just ran through his mind. If he needed to replace or care for the leather, that would mean he'd removed and replaced the collar multiple times.

What exactly did that mean, though? That he'd take the collar off and convince Sans to put it back on? Or would Sans willingly put it back on himself?

He shook the line of thinking from his head. He could worry about that later, if the time ever came. He tested it, holding it closed around his own neck for several seconds. The moment it was shut and the runes formed a perfect circle around his throat he felt the dizzying disconnect from his magic. 

He held it there, eyes closed tight as he memorized the feeling, his blood cooling, flowing sluggishly through his veins. His heart beating harder to compensate for the suddenly thicker blood, sending a short spike of adrenaline and anxiety through him. He looked around the basement, his vision dimming and blurring slightly but not to a concerning point. His joints began to ache, growing stiffer as his temperature slowly lowered.

And then it leveled out. It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't unbearable either. It felt slightly better than when he'd tried on the one Sans currently wore. Less… stifling. The intent behind stamping out the runes had been less intense. He still wanted Sans to stay, but not so desperately as before.

He stood still, breathing slowly to see if there was another drop in his magic. When there wasn't, he held up one hand and tried to urge a flame to ignite in his palm. After several determined attempts, nothing happened.

He opened the collar and breathed deep, heat flooded his body once more and he stared down at the hinged collar in his hand. He set it on the anvil and left the basement.

*

Sans woke up alone, his arm spread across the space that Grillby occupied the past week and a half when he slept with him. He stared at his own hand as if he didn't recognize it. He'd… hoped Grillby would join him. He left his door half-open, expecting at least a lingering stare before he left for his own room. But he watched Grillby climb the stairs and slip into his bedroom without even giving him a glance.

It was a reasonable reaction. Sans had been weird after whatever the fuck happened downstairs. Grillby probably thought he wanted space. Which he did. But right then he realized he'd wanted reassurance too. He just couldn't bring himself to ask for it.

Chapter Text

(Day Twenty-Five)

Sans lingered in his room, taking longer than normal to get out of bed and doing all the normal stuff he usually did in the morning. Bathroom, brush teeth, wash his face, stare blankly in the mirror for at least five minutes as he still struggled to process everything and work up the nerve to go see Grillby again. Because even when Grillby slept with him overnight, he always left to go through a similar routine and then go start breakfast. He had the same routine before bed too, only switching staring in the mirror for staring at the bathroom tile as he showered. Which Grillby had already pointed out how long he took in the shower, so he assumed it was probably longer than five minutes he zoned completely out.

He laid on his side for a long time before rolling to his back and staring up at the ceiling. He was half-aware as he went through his routine, gaze distant as he ran over everything that happened the day before.

It had started exactly the way he wanted to. Having Grillby beyond desperation, feeling in total control as he 'allowed' him to use his hand to get-off. Then taking that away at the very last second to have some leverage to negotiate for more freedom. Only to discover Grillby had more willpower than he gave him credit for. In more ways than one…

His demands had been refused outright. At first. After some give and take, they made a compromise. Sans agreeing to a new collar. One he could wear in public without being too weird or noticeable. One he designed the outer cover for. 

'Convincing' Grillby to wear one, too. He told himself it was because he initially thought Grillby would refuse, too embarrassed to take such a sudden leap forward (at least outwardly to others) in their 'relationship'. But that had backfired. Grillby had been fully on board with the idea.

And then he made it fucking weirder by telling Grillby he wanted to wear the key to the lock on Grillby's collar. 

Wait.

Had he said that out loud to him? Or had he just imagined wearing a thin necklace along with his collar with Grillby's key threaded through it? No one would even know it was there. No one but him and Grillby. Another secret between them. Regardless of the fact that Grillby could probably break the damn lock with his bare hands, it was a bizarre symbol of trust. Just like when he'd said he trusted him not to just bite his fucking dick off the day before.

Sans needed a moment after those thoughts spun through his mind. First at the idea of Grillby breaking anything with his strength alone. And he was a fucking blacksmith apparently?! He remembered Grillby telling him he made the collar himself and that he said he'd make the new ones too, he just hadn't given much thought into what that actually meant. That had to give you a hell of a grip and hand strength. Then at the idea of Grillby trusting him with something that made him vulnerable, even just negligibly as a small lock on a normal collar as well as agreeing to be vulnerable enough to let Sans' teeth anywhere near his dick. And then he needed another moment as multiple things from the night before crashed through his skull.

Grillby somehow having the willpower to pull back before he broke one of Sans' conditions for letting him fuck his face. Letting and then insisting Grillby actually fuck his face. Roughly. The absolute and total shift in his demeanor once it clicked that Sans did not appreciate gentle and careful in that moment. The way he ordered him around, his tone severe and commanding. And still made Sans aware he could tell him to stop at any time. Something he realized no one had ever done for him before.

Not to mention the perfection of Grillby's mouth as he made him cum so hard he saw stars…

Fucking shit… Sans thought. His pupils practically rolled and he quietly moaned as heat surged to his crotch.

He paused while brushing his teeth, his free hand braced on the bathroom counter. He was unsure when he'd needed to reach out for support. He glanced at himself in the mirror without moving, brow furrowed deeply in confusion.

What the fuck was that about?

He'd never had such a strong reaction to just remembering bits and pieces of sleeping with someone before. Sure, sometimes he got a flash of something hot and steamy and willingly closed his sockets to enjoy the mental image for a few seconds more. But never had it just taken over his fucking body like that. 

He looked away from the mirror uneasily as he continued brushing his teeth.

Before he washed his face he stared down hard at the sink, his hands braced on the counter. Once again he played through those tender moments while he sat in Grillby's lap. They had been on a constant loop since he'd gone back upstairs right after they happened. Only a few times taking a break to let him function and get through his morning routine.

This time, he let himself fully remember it, closing his sockets with a slow sigh…

His thoughts had spun wildly as he looked down at Grillby, smiling so gently and patiently and lovingly up at him. He'd awkwardly slid from the chair to his lap, his legs still shaky from everything they'd just done. Straddling him without shame or regret. Pulling him into a kiss so delicate it made his sockets start to well-up with a few tears recalling it. Stopping Grillby from speaking and while he probably wouldn't have ruined the moment, the threat was there and Sans wasn't risking it.

Am I… in love with a psycho?

*

Grillby was standing at the dining table when Sans silently descended the stairs. He stopped mid-step to watch him. 

Grillby had several strips of black leather laid out on a stone slab. He very lightly tapped a small mallet against a metal tool in his other hand around the edge of the strip he was currently working with.

Sockets furrowed in curiosity, Sans went down the last few steps and walked closer. He realized Grillby was wearing just a t-shirt and faded jeans, something he'd been doing more often and he hadn't really noticed. Switching from his long-sleeved thermals and button-ups for something much more casual. He wore casual pajamas, as most people do, but he'd been foregoing pants since they finally had sex, only sleeping in boxers and a shirt.

His skull tilted as he continued to watch his delicate work. It was a different side of the same coin compared to watching him shape the steel that would make the core of their matching collars. The lean muscle that wrapped over his arms still rolled smoothly like it had when he used the much larger, heavier hammer the night before.

Sans found his heart fluttering at the sight, stopping at the far end of the table and resting his hands on the back of a chair while he silently watched on.

Finished with one tool, one Sans recognized was knocking out evenly spaced holes to sew two strips together around the core of the collars, Grillby set it down and reached for another. He glanced up at Sans before doing a double-take and jolting in shock.

"JE-Jesus, Sans!" Grillby shouted with a laugh as he held a hand to his chest. He dropped his head for a moment before smiling broadly back at him. "Scared the shit outta me."

Sans snorted before laughing too, holding his hands up passively. "Sorry, I uh," he cleared his throat. "Didn't mean to. I didn't um, want to interrupt. Looked like you needed to focus." He said, gesturing to the tools and leather spread out on the far side of the table.

Grillby sighed, settling his heart. One thing he definitely never expected while in the cabin was for Sans to actually sneak up on him in the complete silence downstairs like that. "Uh, y-yeah, I do. But you can say something next time." He said with another light-hearted laugh.

"How's it going?" Sans asked, hands in his pockets as he walked around the table to stand near him. "Tell me what you're doing." he added with a weak smile.

"Well," Grillby began, picking up the strip of leather he'd just finished working on. "I have these pieces almost ready to go, as in, nearly ready to cover the c-collars." Sans glanced at him when he stumbled over the last word, but returned his gaze to his hands. "I have the holes punched for the thread, but I still need to do the design you picked out."

"Yeah?" Sans asked, leaning a little closer to Grillby when he picked up the sample square from the night before. He held it near the black leather.

"Yeah, it's going to be a little harder to see since this one is on tanned leather and the one for the um," he hesitated again around that word. "The leather you picked is black."

"Is that going to be complicated?" 

"N-no, I can still do it. If you still want that."

"I do," Sans replied easily.

They were both silent for several tense seconds.

"When um, when will they be ready?" Sans asked.

"By this afternoon. After lunch? The design will take a little bit to do, I want to get it right."

"How's it gonna work exactly? Just uh, put the new one on and take the other off right after?"

"That was the plan, but now that I think about it I don't want to hurt you either. Doubling-up on the… runes may not be the best idea."

Sans shrugged, weakly nudging Grillby's elbow. "I'll trust your judgement there," he told him with a small smile before he turned to the kitchen.

Grillby stared after him, mind completely blank. Sans... trusted him?

"You have something easy for breakfast? Like cereal or somethin'?" Sans asked as he walked to the pantry. He looked over his shoulder at Grillby when he didn't reply.

"Um," Grillby looked away, blinking a few times to refocus before he nodded. "Yeah, to the left there's some instant oatmeal I think? Might be some cereal there too, probably stale though, just as a warning."

*

Grillby sat at the dining table after he finished both collars. It was only eleven AM. He'd expected it to take longer. He'd taken more time than he needed to get everything perfect.

He stared at them side-by-side, neatly threaded together, the swirling filigree perfectly symmetrical and identical to each other. The only visible difference was the color of the thread. Same size down to the last millimeter and crafted to his own meticulous standards.

Deep down, he was proud of them. But at the moment, he was hesitating to tell Sans they were ready. Because he wasn't sure if he was ready to move forward.

Things were complicated, but regardless of the true meaning behind them, the collars were a step up in their relationship. He was going to put his absolute trust in Sans that he wasn't going to bolt the moment he got a chance. That he wasn't going to just unload everything on his brother when they met. Trusting he wasn't going to leave him.

He wouldn't blame Sans if he did.

But he wasn't ready for that yet. He'd never be.

"So uh, got a bit of a problem I'm afraid," Grillby raised his voice for Sans to hear him from the living room couch. He curiously turned to look at him. 

"Yeah?"

"I… don't have any extra locks. I just have the two. The one on the chain upstairs, and the one on your current collar."

Sans' sockets narrowed in thought. "Okay… So we just, what, lock the new one on me with the one from the chain, and use the one from my collar for yours?"

"I um, I want them to match the new collars."

Sans rolled his pupils with a crooked grin. "They'll match each other, won't they?"

"Gold looks tacky with black."

"And what goes good with black, huh?" Sans asked, propping his chin up in his palm and resting his elbow on the back of the couch with the smallest smirk.

"Silver."

"Ah, much classier," Sans said with a mocking agreeable nod. He sighed. "We could go out in them still. Swing by the store when we get there and switch them out." He offered, hand sliding to the back of his skull.

Fuck. That's a good point. Grillby quietly sighed. But that leaves an opening for Sans to escape when we switch the locks. Or to escape when we get to town.

"What's wrong?" 

Grillby looked down at the table again and couldn't bring himself to look back up at Sans. "I… don't think I'm ready for this." he finally replied.

"No," Sans said sharply. Grillby looked up at him. The skeleton's face was twisting with anger. "You fucking promised me." he snapped.

"I-I know I did."

"Then suck it the fuck up and let's get it over with. You're taking me into town and I'm seeing my fucking brother."

Grillby chewed his bottom lip in thought before he decided on something that was unfortunately, going to royally piss off Sans and probably take them back about a dozen steps. But he needed more time with him. He needed to stall for just a little bit longer. Just... a few more days. Then he'd be ready. Right? Ready to take Sans back to the Underground beyond the little slice of paradise they'd had the past twelve hours...?

Ready to risk losing Sans entirely?

No. Never.

"Y-you're right, let's… let's go upstairs." Grillby pushed up from the table and took the collars in hand.

Sans shook his skull, scoffing furiously. "No, you're going to get the lock and bring it down here and we're gonna switch 'em out far away from that fucking chain. Got it?"

Grillby hesitated, stopping half-upright before he nodded. "Yeah, alright."

*

Sans was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, his jaw set and his arms folded tight over his chest. Grillby was holding the lock from the chain upstairs, he held it out for Sans to take, already unlocked and open. Sans hesitated, posture softening only slightly as his arms fell slowly to his sides and his sockets narrowed in scrutiny. 

"It… will go faster if you lock the new collar on while I unlock the old one. The faster we can switch them out, the better."

Still radiating angry skepticism, Sans took the lock. "How… bad is this going to be?"

"I don't know."

"Tch, great," Sans scoffed, his easy mood from that morning soured and bitter. He glanced toward the living room with a short sigh. "The couch is the best place for this then, right? In case I like… pass out?" he asked, cutting his sockets side-long at Grillby.

"Yeah, probably." he agreed with a nod.

"Alright," Sans said as he walked to the couch and sat down while Grillby retrieved Sans' collar from the kitchen table. "Where's the key?" Sans asked when Grillby joined him on the couch. Grillby held up the key that he let Sans quickly inspect. To his silent relief, Sans recognized it didn't look like the one for the cuff upstairs, meaning Grillby wasn't trying to play it off as having the right key, he actually had it.

Grillby held up the new collar, handing it to Sans. "This won't affect you until it's closed, that's when the runes form a perfect circle and they'll start working."

Sans nodded, cautiously pulling it open before he slid it around his throat. He held it open, watching Grillby closely as the other man threaded the lock through it. He let go of one side of the collar as Grillby took the key in his hand and held the lock on the steel collar. Grillby nodded at him. He took a slow breath and twisted the lock shut. His vision immediately dimmed, growing fuzzy and unfocused. He felt his suddenly weak body lurch forward and into Grillby's waiting arms. 

"W… wait," Sans mumbled when he felt Grillby shift him against his chest, wrapping an arm around his back and sliding the other under his thighs. His heart beat harder, but slowed its pace drastically as a severely blunted pulse of panic slogged through his veins.

No… Nononono!

He fought against his leaden muscles, struggling to even lift his skull as Grillby gently cradled it against his shoulder as he carefully stood with him. He could hardly get his fingers to twitch, his vision so dulled he only saw the dark wood of the stairs slide into sight and recognized it because of the stark difference from the pale carpet of the first floor. He heard the muffled cadence of Grillby's voice, obviously apologetic and soothing at once.

You… mother… fucker! 

Even Sans' outraged thoughts were sluggish. He felt his body gently shift again, laid carefully on his back. Flickering purple and blue dominated his sight for a brief moment, rage desperately tried to spark in his soul as he weakly growled. Or groaned, he couldn't really tell. The world began to darken, tunneling slowly down to black while it fast became more difficult to fill his lungs.

*

Grillby moved fast once Sans was unconscious on the bed. He unlocked the new collar from Sans' throat, tossing it behind him as he straddled Sans' chest. With shaking hands he quickly threaded the lock through the welded ring at the back of the steel collar and locked it around the chain still attached to the headboard.

Sans gasped sharply, filling his lungs and before he even caught his breath he was wordlessly yelling in fury, shoving at Grillby. He bared his clenched teeth in outrage, snarling when Grillby grabbed his wrists and pinned them firmly, but not painfully, to the bed near his shoulders.

"You fucking BASTARD! GET OFF ME!" Sans screamed, arching his back and fighting to twist under Grillby.

"I-! Let m-"

"FUCK YOU! Get off!" Sans tightly shut his sockets with a growl, falling back to the bed as he started to tremble, breathing hard.

"Sa-"

"Fuck you!" he snapped, turning his face as his fists clenched and he shook twice as he held his breath. He bit his lip, refusing to make a sound. He shot Grillby a shattered glare when he didn't move, shutting his sockets again and making tears spill. "G-get off me," he weakly repeated, his voice thick.

Shame lanced through Grillby's chest. He harshly swallowed tears of his own as he released Sans and slid backward off him, stepping away from the bed.

Sans took a shaking breath, scoffing bitterly as he stared up at the ceiling. He shook his skull without sitting-up or looking at Grillby. "Congratu-fucking-lations, you can go get the locks now." 

"I-I-"

"Get the fuck away from me." Sans added bitterly, rolling under the sheets with his back turned to the door.

"I… I'll be back."

When Sans said nothing, not that he really expected him to, Grillby turned and picked up Sans' collar from the floor. He quietly left, leaving the light on and the door open.

*

Grillby returned to the cabin around six pm. Just an hour before they'd been having dinner lately. He'd lingered in the trees nearly fifteen minutes from town, though he didn't know how long. He was aware it took him twice as long as it should have to actually get to the general store, not arriving until nearly three PM. He'd bundled-up unnecessarily warm with a thick scarf and a black beanie he'd never worn before. Nervous about being seen by his daughter or an employee or anyone who'd try to talk to him before he could leave again. He didn't want to get stuck in an awkward conversation and he definitely didn't want to risk being followed by anyone who would send word to Papyrus.

His walk home had been much faster, and he only realized when he saw the cabin again that he could have driven back in the snowmobile he had stored in a shed behind the bar. But, he reasoned it would have been too obvious to his daughter or anyone at the bar that he'd been back to town anyway so it was probably for the better he'd forgotten about it.

The entire time he'd been away from the cabin he couldn't stop thinking about Sans. It was the furthest apart they'd been in nearly a month. He'd checked his phone often only to intermittently find the skeleton shaking with quiet sobs, but not once did he see him trying to escape the chain or the collar. Which only made him feel so much worse.

Anger and fury he could easily handle. Knowing he'd made Sans upset and hurt him enough to cry was torture. Torture he definitely deserved, but it still made his soul twist into knots with shame and regret.

He shut the front door a little louder than necessary, letting Sans know he was back. He paused for several seconds, waiting for some kind of indicator Sans was at least awake or willing to even speak to him. With a weary, quiet sigh, he locked the door behind him. Before he stepped away he realized he'd only locked the knob.

He glanced back, hesitating. He looked to the staircase, knowing it was impossible for Sans to see him. He was considering leaving the hidden, inaccessible multi-point lock unlocked like he had been for at least two weeks. Well, except for when he'd left earlier.

He eventually followed-through, pulling the large rectangular magnet from his coat pocket and stuck it to the door. He twisted it and silently grimaced as the lock clacked loudly into place. He pulled hard on the magnet and stowed it in his back pocket.

He stepped out of his hiking boots and hung up his coat before grabbing his backpack and headed for the kitchen.

After he put away the few groceries he'd grabbed, fresh milk, eggs, butter, frozen meat, several new filters for the water intake, two more cartons of cigarettes, some sweets he thought Sans might be interested in (he knew his favorites of course, but if Sans would actually eat them was another story), and a handle of Sans' favorite whiskey, he stood in the kitchen for a few minutes. 

He chewed the inside of his cheek before sighing deeply. Standing upright, he dragged his hands roughly through his flames and let his arms slide heavily to his sides. 

Sans would need to eat something. He'd originally been planning a late lunch so he could finish the collars and they'd put them on after they'd eaten, giving Sans a chance to have as much energy as possible before he temporarily doubled-up on the collars. He wouldn't want anything Grillby actually made, and he honestly wasn't sure if he was up for making anything just for himself.

He grabbed a few things he thought Sans might take with little complaint and set them on the plastic tray he'd used multiple times already. A protein shake, protein cookie, a package of actual cookies, some beef jerky, another bottle of water and a pack of cigarettes with a book of matches from his bar. He hoped at the very least he'd smoke a bit and that could give him a little bit of magic until he was willing to eat something. He got things that wouldn't go bad or make him sick if they sat out all night before he decided to try any of it.

Grillby grimaced as he peered in through the crack in Sans' door and saw Sans glaring darkly at him from where he laid on his side on the bed. Being spotted and unable to take a moment to gather himself, he pushed forward. He nudged the door wider with his elbow before standing at the threshold. He gestured weakly with the tray in his hands before he set it on the nightstand.

Sans didn't take his pupils off him as he moved.

It made Grillby feel all the worse and they both knew he deserved it.

"I-"

"Shut up, I don't want to hear it." Sans snapped quietly.

Grillby shut his eyes, standing up. "I'm sorry," he told him regardless.

"Fuck. Off."

"I uh, really did need another set of locks." Grillby lamely added, risking a glance down at the skeleton.

Sans had his jaw set in fury, the blanket tucked tightly in his fists under his chin. "Do I look like I fucking care?" he asked, still glaring up at him. "You fucking lied. If you needed new locks, you should have thought of that sooner and not fucking lied to me!"

"I didn't realize it until they were ready." he replied. "I…" Grillby sighed. "I got too excited at the idea. I wasn't thinking straight." he very carefully added.

"Whatever, fucker." Sans tiredly snapped back, adjusting slightly in bed as he finally looked away from Grillby. When Grillby didn't move Sans returned his glare in full force. "Fucking leave already!"

Grillby turned with a nod, only pausing at the door before he left. "The light?" he asked without looking back, his hand near the switch.

"Off. Shut the door."

Grillby nodded again and did as he asked. He stood on the other side of the door trying to compose himself.

"GO AWAY!" Sans shouted.

Grillby jumped before he stepped away and returned downstairs.

*

Grillby slept on the couch, giving Sans as much space as he could. He didn't even bring the tablet down with him. He laid in the relative silence, the fire he'd set before he left that day still heating the wall and floor it shared with Sans' room. It had burned down to embers and he watched them pulse as he was lost in thought.

Sans was talking to him, something he hadn't really expected. Their brief argument felt somewhat productive, it had ended with Sans noticeably less angry than when he first walked in. Even if he screamed at him for lingering outside his door. That had to count for something. He'd at least listened when Grillby tried to explain himself, after the initial interruption anyway.

He heaved a deep sigh, adjusting on the couch under the throw blanket he usually had on the back of it.

Now that he was taking time to think about it without the excitement and distraction of finishing the collars and reveling in the events of the evening before, he finally understood why Sans was borderline devastated by his actions. It wasn't that he chained him up again, though that was a huge part of it. Sans had been so vulnerable the entire time he'd been there and fighting against giving every single inch of control he willingly relinquished.

It had meant so much to him to give up that much control the day before, to expose that much of his own desire and then give even more by opening up and following it with such raw tenderness. How he'd missed that considering how he'd drastically softened afterward, he had no clue.

He replayed the soft, unexpected moments from yesterday, closing his eyes. A weak smile flickered on his lips as he remembered how it felt to have Sans so tenderly hold his face and kiss him. The expression when he gently stopped him from speaking, afraid of breaking the moment. He couldn't even remember what he'd been about to say. Probably something stupid that would have ruined it like, 'Thank you', or something similar. And Sans was right, words weren't needed.

Then he had to go and actually ruin all of that trust Sans had slowly gained in him in the past few weeks by tricking him to avoid… what? An argument? Hurting Sans' feelings? Some mild discomfort by going into town with matching collars? Isn't that what he wanted anyway?!

Fuck, Sans had even said that he trusted him that morning! And he'd turned around and all but slapped him in the face by showing he wasn't willing to trust him, too. Not even a little. After negotiating and meeting Grillby more than halfway on something that was going to make Sans so deeply uncomfortable.

What was wrong with him?! Had he just-?

Oh.

Shock washed over him. On some level he'd only just acknowledged, he thought Sans was lying to him. He hadn't trusted him... because he thought he was fucking lying. Something Sans very rarely, if ever did. Even when pressed for answers to hard questions, Sans would tell at least a smidge of truth, he never outright lied.

He groaned and dragged a hand down his face. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

Chapter Text

(Day Twenty-Six)

Grillby didn't sleep long, less than an hour he'd guess. It was close to daylight last he checked and it was barely past seven AM when he woke. He immediately remembered his colossal fuck-up the day before and quietly groaned into his palms. With a heavy sigh, he rose from the couch and climbed the stairs, slow and quiet as he carefully avoided every squeaky spot until he got to the second floor.

He waited, listening intently for any sound from Sans' room. Hearing nothing, he just as quietly opened his door and guiltily took his time going through his morning routine. 

After he brushed his teeth, avoiding looking at his own reflection in shame, he opened his medicine cabinet where six identical bottles lined the bottom shelf; along with mismatched bottles that sat on the other shelves. He took one of the identical bottles and opened it, shaking four capsules onto his palm. He took a large gulp of water before tipping his head back and taking the pills, swallowing hard as he realized his throat had been dry before that. He counted out four more and took those too before he returned the bottle to his cabinet and replaced the lid on his bottled water.

He stood in front of his wardrobe, sighing as he picked clothes for the day. He paused before he slid on a button-up shirt, realizing he hadn't worn one in at least a week. Probably longer. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been comfortable enough with anyone to not wear something that totally covered his arms. Not unless he was alone. He did prefer to work his forge and chop wood without a shirt to avoid burning or tearing one. And he'd been wearing just t-shirts around Sans. No jacket or coat.

He wasn't even that relaxed around his own daughter. 

Mostly because once she started asking questions about his scars around the age of four, he realized he didn't want to answer her. He didn't want to tell her how awful her step-father was, or that they'd been mercenaries and soldiers on the surface. At least, he wasn't ready to tell her either of those things.

She turned her curiosity to his ex-husband instead once she realized she wasn't going to get answers from him around age seven. It was one of the many things he'd never forgive his ex for. He'd given her details of their "war stories" way too young for her to process it, or understand the difference between adults fighting and killing each other and how Grillby and his ex would treat her. She was terrified of them both for months afterward. Grillby had to almost literally tip-toe around her for nearly a year before she would even hug him again. Which only encouraged his choice to keep the more visible scars hidden. And she never asked either of them about their pasts again. Not even about what the surface was like.

Though he had willingly shared details about the world above with her over the years, opening the door for questions, she never took the opportunity to.

He stared down at the thin blue button-up in his hands and hung it back in the wardrobe. Deciding on something in-between, he pulled a loose-fitting gray thermal shirt on over his black t-shirt. 

He wondered if the effort to seem more casual would even matter to Sans.

Probably not.

*

"Morning," Grillby said, cracking the door open to look at Sans.

"Yup," Sans said as the other man flipped on the light. He was sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard. His arms were folded across his chest with his legs crossed at the ankles on top of the blanket.

Grillby looked down at the untouched tray on the nightstand.

"I didn't know if you were going to let me go to the fucking bathroom, so I didn't eat any of it." Sans answered the unasked question without even looking at him.

"Fair," Grillby weakly agreed. "But I brought the key."

Sans blinked slowly once, looking at him without turning his face. "Which one?" 

"F-for the… the cuff," he replied, barely meeting his distrustful, sidelong gaze.

Sans scoffed, shaking his skull as he looked away, harshly biting his lip. He uncrossed his arms and slid sideways across the bed, giving Grillby room to get on it to unlock the cuff. Sans still stared ahead as he tucked his feet close to his butt and leaned back on his hands.

Grillby paused when Sans looked at him as he held the chain firmly in his left hand, half-wrapped around his forearm.

"Well?" Sans prompted impatiently. When Grillby didn't move he furiously added, "If you don't unlock me from this fucking bed, I will never speak to you again."

"I-I will, I'm just–"

"What?!" Sans snapped. 

Grillby nervously chuckled, quietly gulping before he looked back at him, "I-I'm not sure if you'll try to kill me when I do."

"Well you obviously don't trust me, so I'm not surprised."

Grillby sighed, looking away. "I'm sorry, I…" he trailed off, feeling Sans' glare deepen. He looked at him and nodded. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Let me get this off and we can talk. Maybe?" he asked with a hopeful lilt in his tone.

"Hurry up. I have to fucking pee."

*

The day was tense to say the least. Sans was understandably sullen and bitter. Grillby made a few attempts to talk, to apologize, to even crack a joke to break the unbearable tension. But he was lucky if Sans even acknowledged that he spoke, let alone engaged in any fashion beyond glaring at him. 

It was worse than when Sans had gone completely silent for an entire day. The betrayal was deeper than before, they both knew it, and they both knew there was nothing Grillby could do to fix it. Nothing he was willing to do anyway.

And at that point, it would just backfire completely on him.

If he took the collar off Sans entirely, at best Sans would never talk to him again and he may as well just leave SnowdIn for good. At worst he was dead. Either Sans or Papyrus would kill him for what he'd done.

The only time Sans spoke was when he needed to stand to get something or go to the bathroom. And since he also had taken the pack of cigarettes and matches that Grillby left upstairs for him the night before, he didn't even need to ask for a cigarette or a light as he went through half a pack in less than a day. Something Grillby half-regretted as it would have given them something to talk about. But among his much deeper regret though, it was nothing.

For the first time since Sans woke up in the cabin, he told Grillby he wanted to go to bed early.

When Grillby suggested he eat dinner first, Sans stared expectantly back at him like he hadn't said a word.

Relenting in quiet self-pity, Grillby walked upstairs with him and was surprised, and a little concerned, when Sans skipped a shower and went straight for the bed as Grillby tried to leave to grab him a change of clothes for a shower.

Grillby locked Sans back to the headboard and retreated when Sans slid under the sheets. Wordlessly, he turned his back to Grillby and shifted to get comfortable.

"Do you want a change of clothes? You usually have something clean to wear before bed."

Sans didn't reply, so after fifteen seconds of silence, Grillby left. He turned off the light and closed the door behind him.

*

(Day Twenty-Seven)

The next morning Grillby ran through his same routine, just as early as he had the day before. Brushing his teeth, taking two handfuls of pills, and getting dressed before he took the tablet out and checked on Sans. 

He heaved a sigh as he watched Sans laying in bed. It looked like he was sleeping but he wasn't sure. He watched, unintentionally, until Sans began to stir, taking a deep breath before rolling to his other side and falling into a slow and steady rhythm again.

He harshly rubbed his hand over his face, holding the tablet with the other. "Ugh, what the fuck is wrong with me?" He asked himself, not for the first time in the last seven years.

*

Sans didn't move on the bed when Grillby went in later that morning. It was nearly noon, three hours later than Sans was usually up recently. He stared up at him, frowning with a short glare after Grillby turned on the light after a soft warning when he opened the door.

Grillby awkwardly stood in the doorway, not sure what to do when he didn't move.

"Um," he held up the key for the cuff.

Sans scoffed, narrowing his sockets before he rolled over in bed. Tucking the blankets higher to his throat, he gave a harsh huff.

"I… Are y–?"

"Fuck off," Sans flatly told him.

Honestly, Grillby was surprised he hadn't heard that at least a dozen times the day before.

"It's almost noon, do you want something for lunch?"

He was met again with cold silence. 

He turned and left, turning off the light before pulling the door nearly closed with a few inch gap remaining.

*

Unable to convince Sans downstairs, Grillby brought up some snacks after he silently denied a late lunch. They were still untouched when he returned with a change of clothes around eight PM.

Sans looked petulantly at him, eyeing the folded clothes on Grillby's arm suspiciously when he turned on the light.

"You should change your clothes if you're not going to do anything else," Grillby explained.

"I'm not doing jack shit until you get this fucking collar off."

Grillby closed his eyes, taking a slow breath to attempt controlling his growing frustration. Why was he surprised? Of course Sans was going to be pissed. That shouldn't be upsetting him. He'd been more than patient with Sans during their first week together, how was this any different? He set the folded clothes on the nightstand, moving the tray aside to make room.

He turned to leave and stopped mid-step hearing the soft thud of the plastic tray hit the floor. His grip on the door tightened, his other fist clenched tight as he slowly glanced back at Sans.

The skeleton was staring back at him, brow raised in expectation and his expression otherwise flat. Grillby looked down, his left eye twitching slightly before he closed them both to take a slow breath. Sans had swiped both the tray and the clothes to the floor.

"You're a fucking adult. Act like it." Grillby quietly snapped.

"You first," Sans shot back with a sharp glare.

It took a concerning amount of willpower for Grillby to unclench his fist, turn off the light and then pull the door gently closed behind him without losing his temper. 

In the hall outside Sans' door he took several slow, quiet breaths. Forcing the tension from his muscles before he moved on.

*

(Day Twenty-Eight)

Grillby woke up already irritated. His head ached like he had a hangover in spite of not touching alcohol in at least two weeks. He grimaced as he reached for his phone on the end table over his head to check the time.

"Fuckin'... six?" he grumbled. Why was he awake? He'd only slept around two hours. A restlessness in his soul told him he wasn't going to get back to sleep anytime soon either.

He still had a few hours until he needed to get up and take his pills and he didn't want to get up. He was warm and comfortable. Even if he was on the couch.

He glanced at the tablet propped up on the coffee table. Sans was still asleep. He was going to convince the obstinate fucker to get out of bed that day. One way or another.

Yes. He fucked-up. But that was no excuse for Sans to just stop taking care of himself!

He softly growled to himself, closing his eyes as he tapped his head against the arm of the couch. God, he was a fucking idiot! They both were! Him for betraying Sans' trust multiple times over by that point and Sans for trusting him in the first place!

He covered his face with the bend of his elbow, his jaw and fists clenching tight. 

If he had just waited until after lunch at least, he might have had time to realize how fucking stupid he was being.

Why had leaving been such a terrifying concept to wrap his mind around? Why had he thought Sans would bail on him? They wouldn't have even had to leave that day! They could have taken a few more days to get around to leaving! Sans might have even taken that well. He'd have been pissy but he definitely would've taken it better than getting tricked into being chained to the fucking bed upstairs again!

They could be in town already if he'd done that, just taken a day or two to adjust mentally to the idea. To convince Sans he was still going to take him to town, he just needed a little more time. He would've let Sans call his brother to arrange when they could meet.

They could be doing normal couple bullshit. Like going to the cafe in town, or spend a night or two in his apartment and do something different like watch a movie for a change. (Sans had to be getting tired of only reading for entertainment.) Get food that they didn't have to cook and clean up afterward. Even if Papyrus reacted poorly, he'd been… accepting of what was happening lately because they'd convinced him Sans was there willingly. They'd get a bit of a weird and awkward—but probably positive overall—reception to being collared.

The regulars would gossip. His daughter and his employees would definitely make some pointed jokes. Dora would give them both a hell of a hard time in good fun. Papyrus would be uncomfortable and suspicious at worst, just plain uncomfortable at best.

But that wasn't bad. It wouldn't have been bad, just a little embarrassing.

Magic swirled in his soul, filling to the point of nearly overflowing. He unconsciously tensed, pressing his shoulders against the couch as he shifted his legs.

Fuck. He could've had Sans at his side in public. Proudly showing him off. And more than likely, very few would be envious because Sans was a sarcastic dick most days, and reserved and a bit bitter the rest. But he'd have Sans. Everyone would know Sans was his.

A soft sound of want escaped him and he froze, his mind grinding to a halt. He slowly lifted his arm and very consciously took in what was happening within him.

He was gripping the side of the couch tight enough to make his knuckles ache. His entire body was rigid, tensed in place. He was breathing harder. His thighs and knees were pressed in tight to each other and he remembered roughly sliding them together as his thoughts had wandered. His heart was pounding and a shockingly familiar, heated and insistent magic was threatening to overwhelm him.

"Shhhit…" 

He quickly got off the couch and went to his bathroom, jogging upstairs without thinking about how loud or quiet he was.

Of course. Of fucking course! 

He opened the medicine cabinet and shook five pills out instead of four, swallowing them and following them with five more. 

After he put the bottle away, he braced his arms against the side of the bathroom counter and tried to calm his pounding heart.

That explained his fucking higher-than-normal paranoia several days ago.

Thinking back, his mental state was definitely worsened, unintentionally, by Sans stringing him along sexually for the past few weeks and then pushing him so far the day he started the collars.

He'd been having far too much fun watching Sans' dominant side surface so strongly. Even when he'd brought him to the very edge of relief only to take it away. That had been indescribably erotic.

He shook his head harshly as blood surged south and he had to lean harder against the counter when his knees briefly went weak.

He did some simple math, picking up the bottle of heat suppressants and adding up the milligrams of his current dose. 

"Fuck…" he groaned, putting the bottle back. He'd been fairly stable the past few months, which had been consistent compared to the past. He only had to up the dose maybe once or twice a year since he started taking them. Starting at the lowest recommended dose.

But now… Well, if the increase worked and he went back to what had become his baseline, he'd be at…

He grimaced at himself in the mirror.

He'd be at a little over three times the maximum recommended dose. For about ten times longer than was considered medically safe. But they were over-the-counter, he didn't need a prescription to get them so no one could really stop him.

He stood, taking a slow breath as he tipped his head back, still struggling to lower his blood pressure and heart rate.

Obviously, he knew it wasn't safe or smart to keep doing what he had been, but what choice did he have? He wasn't going to just quit them! Not before Sans got to the point where he could be trusted without a collar. Sans wouldn't go into heat with it on and that would be so terribly unfair for multiple reasons to even suggest such a thing.

He'd made himself a similar armband he wore near his shoulder to keep hidden in the past to avoid the medication, but it made him too cold to function to wear it for longer than a week. His joints would get too stiff to move with out constantly cracking, his vision got blurry, he'd get lethargic and couldn't think straight. Being in SnowdIn didn't help that fact. 

Which was unfortunate. He'd rather have something similar to what Sans was wearing and avoid the suppressants altogether. It was a pain to try taking them the same time every day without Sans noticing. And maybe it would even offer Sans some kind of extra layer of comfort knowing he was just as helpless as he was with a collar or an armband of his own.

Oh no, bad train of thought…

Grillby reached blindly for the counter again as his heart rate skyrocketed and magic surged painfully through him. It pulled a quiet moan from behind his teeth and he was breathing hard when his bathroom drifted back into focus.

Being willingly helpless around Sans had proven to be incredible. Better than he could have ever imagined with anyone. And the idea of being so vulnerable and helpless, even more than when he'd let Sans basically chain his arms to the bed while he fucked him stupid was more than enough for his body to attempt taking the reins.

He was surprisingly able to resist temptation…

…for long enough to consider if he should actually shirk Sans' rule of him not getting-off without his permission for the sake of his sanity. Letting his sexual frustration percolate at Sans' insistence had partly caused the current rift between them. 

He was willing to take the blame because it had still been his own choice to fuck up as horribly as he had. But he might have been a little more level-headed if he wasn't doing things that were unintentionally spiking his magic levels and fueling his already obsessive desperation to do anything to have Sans. He really should have been paying more attention to his mental and magical state. He should have expected having Sans so close twenty-four seven was going to affect his magic levels considering he was already pretty sensitive to being around Sans in general.

After a little back and forth with himself, he decided he should hold off a bit longer. The higher dose should tamp down any growing sexual urges for now. And if not… well he could go back to his previous methods of handling his libido, or he could just take more of the suppressants.

He was already past the point of no return on so many fronts, he should at least attempt to keep the last unbroken promise Sans had asked of him.

For at least long enough to see how the new dose was going to affect him.

*

Another day passed of Sans barely talking to him. He drank water, but didn't eat anything and wasn't willing to get out of bed either. Even after Grillby had unlocked the chain connecting his collar to the bed, meaning he could roam freely again.

He did catch him reading in bed throughout the day, which was a good sign. He wasn't just sleeping or sulking in the dark.

And to Grillby's relief, he felt more level-headed than he had in several weeks. He wasn't irritated, or randomly so aroused he couldn't think, or felt the urge to go aggressively blow off energy by chopping a half-dozen trees or running until his body ached and he could hardly walk back to the cabin.

It made it so much easier to think clearly again.

Which made it so much easier to understand the depth of his mistakes. He knew he'd have to be patient, but he'd been more than patient before then. And he'd wait forever for Sans if he wanted him to.

One thing he wasn't going to allow though, was Sans to stop taking care of himself.

*

"Move," Grillby firmly told Sans from the bedroom doorway. He was holding another set of clothes, different than the set he brought up the night before.

Sans scoffed at him, rolling his pupils without turning his skull from his book.

"You're taking a shower."

"Pff, is that right?" Sans dropped his book to his lap, looking at him dismissively.

"Yes. I know you're mad, pissed at me, and I don't blame you, I fucked-up. But you're not going to just sulk in here and stop doing the basic shit you always do." Grillby sternly replied.

Sans narrowed his sockets.

"So," Grillby eyed him. "Move."

"Fucking make me."

Grillby sighed deeply in irritation, though it was at a more than manageable level compared to the night before, and looked away. 

"You're not eating, you didn't shower last night or even brush your teeth this morning. Do you want me to make you take care of yourself? Because we're getting pretty close to that point again."

"F-fine," Sans sullenly relented, not looking at him.

"What are you eating before bed?"

Sans weakly shrugged one shoulder. "I… I don't know. Some-something easy. I'm not… really hungry."

Grillby softened in relief, finally getting through to him. "Granola bars, chips, sandwich? Something like that?"

After a moment Sans shook his skull. 

"Got a few pre-mixed protein shakes?" he offered.

Sans sighed, sockets closing as he leaned his skull back against the headboard. He shrugged again. "Sure. Easy enough."

"I've got vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate brownie flavors."

Sans blinked, his brow furrowing as he glanced at Grillby. "Why do you have so many?"

"Variety pack's easier to load up," he replied with a shrug himself.

"Load up?" 

"I have a snowmobile in town. Makes grocery runs easier. And buying bulk makes it easier to strap down."

"Huh," Sans looked away again. "Um, the brownie one." he added. 

"Want anything else to drink?"

"Just water."

"Be right back."

*

Sans was in the shower, the clothes he'd brought were gone when Grillby returned upstairs and he heaved a deep sigh of relief.

Progress. They were making progress at least.

He set the water and shake on the nightstand and jogged downstairs for clean sheets as well as the extra quilt that had made its way back to the living room while he'd been sleeping nightly in bed with Sans. He was smoothing the blankets down after changing the pillowcases last when Sans walked out of the bathroom.

They both paused mid-motion.

Sans because he hadn't expected Grillby to be making the bed and Grillby because Sans looked like he felt so much better now that he was showered and wearing clean clothes again.

"Been about a week," Grillby stated, standing upright as he looked down and quickly smoothed over a wrinkle on the top quilt. "Was time they got switched out." He looked back at Sans with a flicker of a smile. "And… nothing feels better than clean sheets after a shower." he added.

Grillby sighed, trying to reset his train of thoughts from being elated that Sans was looking better to remembering he still needed to give him space. He very nearly took a step to walk over to him for a hug. Sans hadn't been entirely comfortable with him initiating physical affection before that point anyway, so he wasn't entirely sure where the urge came from.

He gestured to the nightstand. "Uh, here you go. But if you want anything else, help yourself."

"Yeah, okay."

"Alright," Grillby nodded. "I'm going to be downstairs for a while." 

"Uh, yeah."

*

Sans laid awake in bed most of the night. He'd been awake most of the last few nights, only falling asleep when his racing thoughts finally faded.

Of course he was almost obsessively thinking about Grillby. Trying to figure out what the turning point had been in his behavior. Why he'd switched so abruptly from being more excited than he'd ever seen him to deceiving him and locking him back to the bed. If only for three days. Which was shorter than the first time he'd kept him locked to the bed.

Grillby was still respecting his space, as much as he could while he was trapped in a cabin in the middle of nowhere against his will. While fucking chained to his goddamn arm again recently.

He asked before he sat with him, he still knocked before he walked in in the mornings, he still gave Sans as much privacy as the length of chain allowed when he went to the bathroom the first day. He hadn't even asked if he could sleep with him the past few nights.

He scoffed to himself. He was pretty sure he'd managed to break Grillby's desperate and pathetic habit of getting-off the moment he was alone again too.

He sighed, some small part of him disappointed in himself for the way he was acting and feeling.

Grillby had apologized. But he hadn't offered anything to make up for it either. Maybe he was afraid anything he did offer would fall short of actually fixing the mistake he'd made. Maybe he was afraid that Sans would never forgive him for the second betrayal. Maybe he was afraid of what Sans would ask to make up for it. Something he'd outright deny and push Sans further away, like if Sans asked for complete freedom. Or something he obviously wasn't willing to do yet, like switch his collar and take him into town.

But he'd never really apologized for kidnapping him in the first place. He'd just kind of… hoped that Sans would come around. Which, astonishingly, he had.

And if Sans himself couldn't understand why he decided to trust Grillby after all of that, Grillby probably couldn't either. His suspicion made sense. In context anyway.

Sans heaved a sigh, rolling to his other side and tugging the pillow Grillby usually slept with into his arms.

Grillby hadn't pressured him to do anything other than eat something and take a shower, which he'd only done after he hadn't eaten in at least thirty-six hours. Which was also kind of hot? For some fucking reason? So was pissing him off the night before after he shoved the tray and clothes off his nightstand like a brat. That had been a confusing feeling to sit with, but one he'd already had several brief fantasies about before that. Pushing Grillby's buttons to make him potentially lose his temper just to see what would happen.

He… had zero idea what was happening in his mind anymore. So he stopped trying to rationalize it for a few moments—ignoring that was how he got into the current situation in the first place—and focused on what he knew he wanted, no matter how insane it was.

He wanted to see his brother.

He wanted Grillby to trust him enough to let him leave.

Was that it? Was that really all it boiled down to? Or was that all he was willing to accept he could have at that moment?

After all, he'd had some concerningly conflicted feelings about Grillby the day he agreed to the collars. Had he moved past that already?

Was he really okay with just coming back to the cabin with Grillby after a trip to town? 

He had to fight a little with himself to fully consider the idea, distracted by the insanity of it. What would Papyrus think if he knew he was willing to go back? What if someone else figured it out? How would he feel if someone did, especially his brother? What would happen to Grillby? What would happen to him if everyone knew he'd been kidnapped and then just went right back to Grillby?

Beyond deeply disturbing and upsetting his brother, did any of it really matter? Would anything actually consequential happen if he just denied it? People already said stupid shit about them both separately. Speculating about Grillby's past when they didn't think he could hear or when he wasn't at the bar. Sharing rumors about Sans' bastard of a father and what he may or may not have done to Sans himself.

That very, very rarely got under their skin. Only when that Bear had blatantly, drunkenly said that shit about Grillby's daughter. And only a few times that Sans could remember doing something similar, the worst one being when someone in high school had, in a far-too-loud whisper to not be overheard, called him "Gaster's Bitch" and he'd snapped, breaking loose several teeth with his own fists before someone dragged him back.

Anything someone said if this situation got out wouldn't even come close to that level of visceral rage. He'd at least think about it before just attacking someone.

He sighed deeply, considering what he really wanted again…

He wanted to see his brother.

He wanted Grillby to trust him.

He wanted… things no sane person would.

Like staying with Grillby, with or without a collar to keep him there.

"Well, fuck it. Guess I'm insane then." he muttered to himself as he buried his face into the pillow that still smelled like Grillby. The new pillowcase only made that stronger, the fabric softener and detergent mingling nicely with the Gyftmas spiced smell of Grillby's skin. He sighed, smiling faintly as his lungs filled and the pressure in his chest lightened. 

"Simply can't be helped." he weakly added, his soft voice muffled even further.

*

(Day Twenty -Nine)

It was nearly three AM when Sans gave up on trying to sleep. He couldn't get his restless thoughts to settle and he rolled in bed to grab one of the books from the stack on his nightstand. He picked one, a particularly angsty, star-crossed-lovers romance by an author he'd heard in passing enough that he decided to give it a chance. So far it hadn't been bad. Certainly good enough to be a decent distraction.

He paused when he noticed the light from downstairs was still on and Grillby's bedroom door was open.

Grillby hadn't gone to bed yet?

Curious what the other man could possibly be up to at such an hour, he slipped out of bed and peeked into his darkened bedroom to make sure he wasn't actually in there. The bathroom door was closed and dark, the bedsheets were folded neatly. He glanced at the closed curtain on the wall that led to the small private balcony he hadn't really bothered with when he'd inspected Grillby's room previously. He'd just assumed it was alarmed somehow and wouldn't be worth investigating beyond looking out through it.

He slowly descended the stairs and was surprised to see Grillby fast asleep on the couch, sprawled back with his right arm and leg hanging from the side and a still-open book on his stomach. He was still fully-dressed, meaning he hadn't fallen asleep on purpose.

He stood for a few moments at the halfway point on the stairs, chewing his cheek as he debated if he really wanted to go back upstairs or not.

He glanced at the fireplace. Cold and empty. Which explained why the cabin felt colder than usual. He'd just assumed he'd gotten too used to sleeping with the living space-heater Grillby was. But it looked like he'd forgotten to light another fire before he passed out.

Well, he was cold in bed upstairs. It wouldn't be cold sleeping with Grillby.

He quietly walked to the couch and gently pulled the book from Grillby's hand, glancing at it to check the page number in case Grillby forgot where he was before he closed it and set it on the coffee table. He lightly scoffed as he moved his arm out of the way and Grillby didn't even stir in his sleep. He wondered if Grillby usually slept that deeply or if he'd just been unusually tired considering he fell asleep without meaning to.

Sans slowly crawled onto the couch and carefully laid himself on top of Grillby, sliding comfortably between his legs and softly sighing as he pressed his face against his chest. He closed his sockets and sighed as he listened to the calm and steady beat of his heart.

Half-asleep himself a few minutes later, he drowsily slipped his arms under Grillby's back and didn't care when it made the other man lift his head with a confused mumble. He felt Grillby tense in surprise under him.

"Sa-Sans?" Grillby whispered.

Sans pretended he was asleep and didn't hear him. He didn't want to explain himself and he didn't want to move. He was positive Grillby wouldn't try to wake him either.

He kept his breathing deep and even, the way it always was when he was on the edge of sleep and assumed it was when he finally did fall asleep.

After a few silent, tense moments, Grillby took the throw blanket from the back of the couch and carefully shook it out to lay over Sans' back. It didn't cover their feet because of the odd angle he used to spread it over them, but the thought was nice.

Strong arms wrapped gently around him. A sigh escaped under him and Sans fell asleep.

Chapter Text

(Day Twenty-Nine)

Grillby almost woke-up as Sans very gently shifted off him. He was still struggling to catch-up with the night before where he'd woken up with Sans wrapping his arms around him, sleeping against his chest. The absence of the comfortable weight draped over him was something he already missed. He was pretty positive Sans hadn't slept on him in any way since he brought him there, not completely in his right mind anyway, and he already wanted more of him like that.

Soft. Trusting. 

Not that he'd done a damn thing to deserve it, he still desperately craved it.

He blearily watched as Sans tugged the blanket over his feet, smiling weakly. He glanced at the coffee table and his eyes widened, suddenly completely awake.

He'd left his cell phone on the coffee table last night, expecting he'd grab it before he went upstairs to go to bed.

He closed his eyes again, waiting to see what Sans would do. It took all of his self-control not to move or make a sound as Sans sweetly tucked the blanket against his legs, brushing his hand over his chest with a quiet sigh before he stepped back. 

Grillby waited, still and patient until he heard a cabinet in the kitchen quietly close. Followed by the peel of the magnetic strip of the fridge as Sans opened it.

He slowly opened his eyes. 

His cell phone was still lying in the open. Untouched.

*

The day together was awkward and quiet. The silence was heavy with things unspoken rather than anger and regret restrained. A welcome change in the scheme of things, but uncomfortable all the same.

Sans asked to go outside to smoke after dinner and Grillby agreed without hesitation. Sans took note that only the knob had been locked, not the invisible inner lock. They shared a small conversation about several of the books they'd been reading. Sans even admitted he was reading the smutty paperback he'd found the first day he got to explore the cabin. The Snailer's Son.

According to him, it wasn't bad. A little predictable, but fun.

Grillby asked how far he'd gotten—to the dramatic, temporary break-up, a common romance trope—and told Sans his favorite part of the story was soon. But didn't elaborate when Sans asked why, only giving him a playful wink.

The rest of the evening was easier, Sans now openly reading the paperback in the living room. Only to snap it shut about thirty minutes later, blushing dark red as he set it on the coffee table and then fiddled with the MP3 player on the table next to the couch on his left.

Grillby tried to ignore his embarrassment, but knowing what caused it made it impossible.

"Which part was it?" he asked, smirking down at his own book.

Sans cleared his throat. "Uh, th-the office."

"Oh, I know that. Which part?"

"Shut up," Sans mumbled.

Grillby snickered to himself.

"L-Lex flipped Connor over," he quietly replied, not turning around.

Grillby stiffened, feeling heat and sparks across his face. He and Sans hadn't done much sexually, at least not where Sans was actually fucking him. But they definitely hadn't done that yet. He hadn't really thought about what Lex and Connor had been doing in Lex's office either, other than they were both unexpectedly in heat after reuniting and it was the start of several days of marathon sex, like most heats tended to be.

But he was suddenly reminded that Connor was trans, meaning he had (in the setting of the story anyway) a pussy and clit for every scene between him and Lex. Which also meant that Sans had been reading about Lex fucking Connor like that. For multiple scenes before that too.

"And uh," Grillby's voice broke. He'd spoken before he thought about it. Sans was barely talking to him again, it was definitely too soon to start talking about sex. Sans hadn't brought up doing that and he while he was more than willing to try changing for him for a night or two, he had no clue how Sans would feel about that.

"And you just decided to read multiple sex scenes in the living room with me?" Grillby teased instead. "Because that's about a quarter of the way in for those chapters."

"Well, had to know why it was your favorite part of the book." Sans told him, his tone dripping with mischief. He turned back to see him, leaning against the couch. "Did I get to it yet?"

Still staring intently at his book, Grillby smirked. "Not yet," he replied. "Finish it and I'll tell you."

"Oh, so you want me to read about Connor getting…" He picked up the book and thumbed through the pages to find where he left off. "…hm," Sans nodded, glancing back at Grillby. "Fucked and knotted hard enough that he can't feel his legs, or his tail?"

"M-maybe?" Grillby's heart was pounding frantically at the thought of Sans doing the same thing to him. That restless magic coiled in his soul again in spite of the outrageous dose of heat suppressants he was taking.

"Well, too bad that's pretty rare, huh? The knot thing happening."

"Uh… uh-huh," Grillby closed his eyes with a soft nod.

It was rare. Usually only happening for heats with long-established partners. And with same-sex couples, one often changed regardless during a heat, but not always, and the other didn't always end up with a knot. A 'true' heat/rut was typically for couples that either trusted each other enough to be that vulnerable, or manipulative bastards that wanted that level of control over someone else in heat. Because it always fucked with the headspace of the… receiver. 

And it was still a vulnerable position for both involved. If the other monster was incensed enough, it made the one in 'rut' easier to injure or even murder since they couldn't get away either.

"Oh? Is that a little fantasy of yours baby-doll?" Sans questioned, the smoky tease in his voice palpable.

God, yes… That was the height of what he really desired most. Trusting Sans that much, knowing he wouldn't leave him in such a needy, desperate state. Fuck…  

"Hm," Sans smugly chuckled near his face. "Good to know." He planted a quick kiss against the edge of Grillby's jaw, drawing a nearly unheard soft sound of want from the elemental.

Grillby returned to the present as Sans stood and ventured to the kitchen. Sitting on his couch, heart racing, magic flowing wildly, a little breathless, he wasn't sure how to process what just happened.

Had Sans just given confirmation that he'd be on-board with such a thing? 

Oh my fucking God. Grillby struggled to keep silent as his eyes flickered and a shudder darted down his spine.

He tempered his desire, half-reasoning that Sans was definitely teasing him. Maybe. He hoped not. He wasn't sure what would happen when he started to taper off the suppressants once Sans' collar was off, but he was desperately hoping they'd be at that point by then.

*

Sans nervously knocked at Grillby's bedroom door. He'd been disappointed when he returned from getting ready for bed and saw Grillby wasn't waiting for him. Had sleeping on the couch not been hint enough that he wanted to sleep in bed with him again?

Apparently not even hint enough to ask before Grillby just fucked-off to his room without even saying goodnight.

He probably should have realized by that point that Grillby was terrible at asking for something he wanted unless Sans forced it out of him.

"Uh, come in?" 

Sans took a quick breath and turned the knob. Grillby's lights were off, but he was still sitting up in bed with a book, his own firelight enough to read by. He saw the expression on Sans' face and closed his book, setting it on the nightstand as he turned to slide his feet to the floor and sit on the edge of the mattress.

"What's wrong?" Grillby asked. 

"You're not in my room," Sans replied. "I'm a little offended you had to ask actually," he added with a smirk and a shrug that nearly hid the quick twitch of his hand.

"I uh, d-didn't think you'd want–" he stopped short when Sans glanced quickly away and then back, his fingers tapping against the outside of his thigh. "I–" Grillby cleared his throat. "I was just finishing up a chapter before bed."

"Well, let's get to bed then," Sans turned after a moment toward his room. Grillby quietly followed.

*

(Day Thirty)

"Why did you lie to me?" Sans asked when he heard the shift in Grillby's breathing, from the soft and deep breaths when he slept to the more shallow and slower pace when he was awake. He stared at Grillby's chest as the elemental tensed, not really seeing the dark fabric still tangled in his fingers.

"I didn't mean to," Grillby softly replied.

"Why should I believe that?"

"You probably shouldn't. I wouldn't if I were you."

"Were you ever going to let me leave?"

"Yes."

"Why not then?"

"I-I panicked. Really. I don't–I can't lose you, Sans… Not after this."

"I said I'd come back."

"You said it sarcastically."

"I told you I trusted you."

Grillby weakly flinched. "Y-yeah. You did."

"And you didn't believe me."

"It… it sounded insane. It sounded like a trick."

"I don't lie."

"I-I know," Grillby gave a short nod. Without thinking he added, "But I also don't kidnap people and yet here we are." To his surprise, Sans quietly scoffed, his shoulders shook like they did when he was trying not to laugh at something.

"So I'm the extra-special exception to your sanity. Got it."

Grillby weakly chuckled, wrapping the arm closest to Sans across his back to bring him in gently tighter. Sans automatically adjusted, snuggling in against him, the hand clutching Grillby's shirt loosened the hold and slid up to his shoulder.

For a few peaceful moments, they laid together quietly.

Sans sighed, quiet and deep. He tucked his face in closer to Grillby's chest. "I wasn't g…" he sighed again. "I need to pee. Can we get up?"

"I uh, y-yeah. I'll be right back."

Sans shifted upright, feeling noticeably colder as he pulled away from Grillby. The other man cast him a warm, slightly strained smile before he slid from the bed and walked to his bathroom.

Sans glanced at the chain still locked to the headboard, sockets furrowed in thought. He looked back at Grillby's open bedroom door for a moment and back to the headboard. Then he stood and went to wait at Grillby's doorway.

*

Grillby stopped-short when he opened his bathroom door and Sans was waiting for him, leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom. Hands in his pockets with a pensive look, they stared at each other for a few moments.

"I'm only going to ask this once." Sans waited a few seconds, staring Grillby in the eye. "Do you trust me?"

With less hesitation than either of them expected, Grillby answered, "Yes." 

"Then give me the key," he told him.

Grillby's flames dimmed, body tensing as cold panic gripped him.

After a short but pained stretch of silence Sans glanced away without turning his skull, looking down at the carpet. Looking back at Grillby he said, "The key for the cuff on the bed. And the other lock. Open it, too."

Grillby slowly released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, closing his eyes for a second as he nodded. He started to move before confusion stopped him. "Wait, what?" 

Sans smirked. "You said you trust me, well," he shrugged. "Trust me." He pushed away from the doorframe and turned, walking back to his bedroom.

Grillby retrieved the key and lock and followed Sans, still confused but more curious now as he wondered what the hell the skeleton was going to ask next.

"First, give me the cuff key." Sans told him when Grillby joined him.

He handed over the key with growing confusion. Sans' smirk returned as he sat on the bed and reached for the cuff, unlocking it before turning to Grillby again. He patted the bed beside him in invitation that Grillby accepted.

Sans gave him a small smile that was filled to the brim with wicked mischief before he lightly draped the chain across the back of Grillby's neck, he left the cuff open to rest on his chest as he took his hands away. "Lock it," Sans told him, sockets narrowing with sultry confidence.

Cobalt sparks lit up Grillby's face, his hands trembled slightly as he reached up and closed the cuff around the chain on his other shoulder.

"You keep this on for twenty-four hours," Sans started, wrapping his fingers around the chain slowly. He pulled down until it tightened around Grillby's throat and the other man was breathing harder at the soft pressure. "I'll forgive you, if you switch the collars out after."

"And if–? Ahn!"

Sans jerked on the chain, it tightened harshly around Grillby's neck and pulled him even closer to him. "You take it off without my permission before then and I'll know you don't trust me and I'll never trust you again. No matter what you do, or how hard you grovel and beg. No if's, and's, or butts." he quietly, seriously told him.

Grillby nodded up at him, hands braced on the bed near Sans' thighs.

Sans' face hardened, even as he released his grip on the chain. "D-don't make me regret giving you a chance like this."

Grillby shook his head, "I won't."

"Yeah? Prove it."

"Th-thank you," Grillby added softly. "For giving me a chance, for… giving me a way to try making it up to you. I wasn't really thinking right an–"

"Dude, enough already." Sans said with a half-amused scoff as he pushed him back by his forehead. "And don't apologize for that either." He added, glancing back as Grillby quickly shut his mouth.

"Give me the lock." Sans held his hand out expectantly, trailing to the end of the chain with his other hand.

Grillby had forgotten about it, but passed it to him. He watched in surprise as Sans threaded the end of the chain link through it and held it up for Grillby to take. Stunned, Grillby took it and Sans tilted his chin up for him.

After a few seconds of hesitation, and a small hint of suspicion, Grillby locked the chain back to Sans' collar.

He didn't ask the point of them being chained together again, only with a very different meaning than before. He didn't need to. 

"Mind if I add something to make this fun?" Sans asked, shifting the mood to something lighter.

"Uh, sure?"

"What if… we do a little challenge, hm?

"I'm listening."

"No holds barred, see who can make the other cum before sunset. Whoever wins gets to be in control. All. Night."

"R-really?"

Sans leaned closer, smiling confidently back at him as he trailed his fingertips up to his chin from his jaw. "Really," he told him with a nod.

"Anything?"

"Mm," Sans briefly frowned. "If we don't want to do something, obviously that's a pass. Like uh," he cleared his throat. "Some things." He vaguely added.

"So you'll be honest with me?"

"About what?" 

"What you do or don't like," Grillby clarified.

Sans shrugged after a moment. "Sure, if you'll be honest with me."

"Does it start now?" Grillby asked with barely restrained excitement.

"Sure, wh-?" Grillby interrupted him with a rushed tackle, pulling Sans into a fevered kiss. He unintentionally slid between Sans' thighs as he laid on top of him and the skeleton tensed with a sharp gasp.

Grillby immediately pulled back, looking down at him. Sans' pupils were darting madly over his face before he jerked him back down to continue their kiss. He held him just a little too frantically for Grillby to relax into him and he very slowly lifted his body off him, deepening their kiss until he could shift his legs to pleasantly tangle with Sans'. 

He kept one knee between Sans' and the other straddled the outside of his thigh. Nice and balanced. He wasn't straddling him and he wasn't putting him in such a vulnerable position anymore. He was rewarded with Sans arching his body against him, very nearly pulling a moan of relief from him.

He knew that look. He knew that feeling. That desperate need to chase once-considered dead demons away. If he needed to regain Sans' trust, he needed to let him make his own choices. But that didn't mean he couldn't try to make it easier for him. And he knew Sans wouldn't want to be forced to either deny or confirm any kind of flashback or intrusive thought. 

Surprisingly, it wasn't out of selfishness that he didn't stop immediately, it was because Sans wasn't ready to stop. And when he released Grillby and pulled back to breathe, he smiled crookedly up at him. "Wh-what? Cummin' on my fuckin' face wasn't enough for you? Already desperate for more?"

"Always," Grillby replied sincerely.

"Yeah, well. You just kissed me before I even brushed my teeth, you weirdo."

"Ah," Grillby said with quiet realization. "To… be honest, for one, I didn't notice–"

"Ew," Sans interjected.

"And two," Grillby chuckled at him before he cupped his cheek in his palm. "I didn't think I'd get to kiss you again."

"Don't get sappy on me right now you'll make me cr–" Sans shut his mouth before he finished his sentence. He held his breath as he stared up at Grillby. He could see that the other man knew what he'd been about to say from his expression alone.

Grillby kissed him, laughing brightly when Sans shoved him away in disgust. "Stop! I'm so gross right now!" He told him, laughing when he tried to swoop in for another.

"Oh, so you get to suck my dick when I'm gross, but I can't kiss you before you brush your teeth?"

Sans rolled his pupils. "That was different."

"How?"

"It tastes like something died in my mouth and that's disgusting."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure I reeked the other night and still…" Grillby said leadingly.

Sans actually pouted, looking away with a huff and a short-lived blush.

"So, what's the difference?"

"Didn't think you could get sweaty," Sans mumbled.

"What?"

Sans sighed, "Get up so I can brush my teeth."

"Why didn't you brush your teeth yet?"

Sans shrugged without answering.

"You didn't think I could sweat? Why?"

He frowned deeply at him. "Dude, you're made of fire."

"Inside, yeah." Grillby nodded in agreement. He half-smiled. "Outside is kinda… intermittent."

"You can't get wet." Sans countered.

"And yet you can still suck my dick." Grillby told him with a teasing purr, narrowing his eyes playfully. "Quite impressively, I'll add."

Sans blushed brightly and Grillby laughed, struggling to force it to something kinder to avoid hurting Sans' feelings.

"You can't wash your hands!"

"If I'm quick I can," he told him. When Sans looked at him in disbelief Grillby explained. "I can get them wet and they'll dry pretty fast, turns to steam almost immediately. I can't use soap, though. It makes me feel better about making food for other people if I feel like I at least sanitized my hands with steam."

"S-so… if you get sweaty and can apparently wash your hands, how do you get clean?"

"What do you think I do? Just walk around without showering?"

"You can shower?!"

Grillby laughed again at his indignant disbelief, nodding as he tried to talk and failed.

"How?!"

"Wh-what did you think I d-did?!" Grillby cackled, pressing his forehead against Sans' chest.

"I-I don't know! Oil?!" He retorted, shrugging angrily.

Grillby caught his breath, unable to stop a few weak chuckles breaking through as he lifted his face. "Not a bad guess actually. I did and still do sometimes, use oil to get clean. But yes, I can and do also shower."

"How?" Sans repeated with angry skepticism.

"Want me to show you?" He asked with a slight purr in his voice.

"A-as long as it won't fuckin' extinguish you or something stupid."

"I can't take a bath or dunk myself in water, not without hurting myself anyway, but shower spray? Not a big deal."

"Alright, fine. Show me."

*

Sans finally got to brush his teeth, as he put the toothbrush away he watched Grillby turn on the shower. With the curtain open he casually held his forearm under the stream of water and looked back at Sans. 

Sans frowned, his skull tipping sideways as he stared at the unbelievable sight. Steam curled up in a fast-moving cloud toward the ceiling, but nothing else. 

"H-how the fuck?" he asked in quiet disbelief, stepping closer. Not that they had much distance between them to start with. With the chain looped loosely around Grillby's neck it took off about a foot of length that they used to have when Grillby had it locked to his wrist.

Grillby pulled his arm out of the shower to show him. Sans took his hand and held it close to watch the water droplets sizzle across his skin. "That is… the weirdest thing I think I've seen."

Grillby chuckled. "It was pretty surprising when we figured it out, too."

Sans glanced up at him expectantly.

"Uh, the… rest of the flame elementals. There used to be a lot of us on the surface." He laughed weakly. "Not as many after the war and we came underground. There were still a few dozen around the time we got showers down here. It was one of us who was a doctor who figured out it was safe."

"Bet he nearly shit himself before he realized it was fine."

"Well, she, but yes."

Sans dropped his hands with a roll of his pupils. "You know I didn't mean it like that, one of my best friends is the Royal Scientist and is a chick."

"Oh, that's how you're gonna spin that? 'One of my friends is a chick'?"

"Shut up," Sans pushed him lightly with a smile. "And technically, two of my friends are chicks, so…"

"Out of what, all two of them?" Grillby teased with a snicker.

Sans laughed, he followed it with a shrug. "My brother counts and uh…" he looked away with an embarrassed blush, biting his lips. He gestured to Grillby. "You know, you. So four?" he added, relaxing a little after he said it. "So half of my friends are girls. Ha!"

"Y-you mean that?" 

Sans sighed, expression falling. "Don't make it weird, alright? Havin' enough trouble as it is." he admitted, his hand hanging heavy on the back of his neck.

"Right, okay," Grillby nodded once. He cleared his throat, stepping back, as much as he was able anyway. 

Sans looked back up at him, eyeing him with a slow-growing mischief. He reached up, putting a hand on his chest and slowly pushed him back. A soft blush burned across Grillby's face, huffing quietly when Sans stepped toward him and shoved him to the wall.

He leaned in close, pulling just slightly on the chain to encourage Grillby lower. Watching the anticipation build in his gaze, he reached sideways and turned off the shower.

Without speaking, Sans turned, pulling Grillby gently behind him as he returned to the bedroom. He stood by the bed before taking Grillby's hips and guided him to sit on the edge.

Sans hummed, just this side of smug as he carefully straddled his lap, resting his forearms on Grillby's shoulders. He leaned in to kiss him, smiling when he felt Grillby's hands on his waist. He started to rock his hips, holding his head in place as he deepened their kiss. Grillby's hands traveled quickly, one dropping to his hip and the other rising to shoulders to tug him closer. Sans hit an angle that made their erections grind together and Grillby gasped through the kiss, embrace tightening.

Sans pulled back with a lusty chuckle. "Ah, there you are," he whispered.

"Wh-what?" Grillby asked.

"Was starting to think I'd lost my touch."

Grillby scoffed, still holding him close. "Never," he told him with a soft shake of his head.

"Hm, you sure? You've been just falling apart immediately anytime I do anything."

"It usually distracts you," Grillby explained.

"Maybe," Sans agreed with a quick frown. He shifted his hands, tipping Grillby's head back by dragging his thumbs down his jaw and wrapping his fingers around the back of his neck. "But it's also a hell of a motivator, too."

"What?" 

Sans shoved him backward, smirking at the pleasant surprise and light blush on his face. He slowly threaded their fingers together and pinned Grillby's hands by his shoulders. He stared down at him as he carefully began to rock his hips, their hard dicks grinding together again. 

"Nnh!" Grillby tensed under him, his hands gripping tight.

"That's what I wanna hear…" Sans sighed, circling his hips.

"Hh-hn! Re-really?"

Sans nodded, his smile growing dozy and warm.

"You st-still on board with being honest?" Grillby asked him.

After a moment to come back to the present, Sans nodded again. His mischievous smile returned as he went still. "Yeah, sure. What d'ya wanna know?"

"Tell me what I do that you like," Grillby said with a playful smile. Thinking halfway clearly, he made a note that Sans wasn't opposed to having him between his legs or outright straddling him with the intent to grind their bodies together, he just seemed to prefer being the one on top. Which was even sexier…

Sans sighed, barely containing a smile as he released his hands and sat up. "Alright," he agreed. "But I'm not telling you while we're on a bed." he added.

"That's not what you said," Grillby countered with a grin. "I think you're trying to get out of telling me."

He sighed again, still smiling. "I'm not, I just didn't want to give you the perfect opportunity to act on it."

"Afraid I'll win before we even have breakfast?" 

"Yes, actually." Sans replied. "See? I'm being honest and everything."

"I won't try any of it until after we eat, fair enough?" 

Sans nodded again, puffing out his cheeks with a quick exhale. He closed a socket, cringing slightly as he said. "Um, biting is one, bit obvious though, I guess." he gestured weakly to the still barely-visible hickies on the left side of his throat. 

"The other obvious ones are, you know, hearing you."

"Hearing me what?" Grillby asked with a quirk of an eye and briefly biting his tongue teasingly.

Sans rolled his pupils. "You know," he gestured at him. Grillby waited patiently. "Fine, hearing you make basically any sound you make, cussing, saying my name, begging, all of it. Happy?"

"Very," Grillby nodded. "Any other 'obvious' ones?"

Sans shifted uncomfortably before his face lit-up deviously. "Did you know you breathe steam when you get too worked-up?"

"Yes, but it doesn't happen very often. Usually when I'm pissed. Maybe once or twice recently." He paused before remembering he had agreed to honesty. That probably included lies of omission, too. "Uh, a l-lot more when it's t-two fire elementals together." he added awkwardly.

"Mm," Sans frowned with playful skepticism. "Been doing it quite a bit lately. I'd never seen you do that period before now. Without an obvious explanation. Like, drinking something hot outside."

"I… I did not know that."

"Fun," Sans bounced his brow. "Um…" he looked up as he thought. "Heh, the way you just fuckin' shake when you get close."

Grillby cleared his throat, glancing away and back to him quickly.

"Mm, the way your voice cracks sometimes. Sounds like log cracking on a fire."

It was Grillby's turn to shift a little uncomfortably.

"Liked watching you in the basement. I do want to see you, or make you sweat sometime." he chuckled. "You are far too good at kissing, you know. Never been kissed like that in my life, the way you do it."

Grillby smiled up at him with pride.

"That uh," Sans cleared his throat, looking down at Grillby's stomach. "That th-thing you did on top of me. The way you rolled your hips? Fuck, dude…"

Grillby ran his hands up Sans' thighs.

"Th-the way you, heh, eventually took control the other day. Took you a minute to figure out what I meant."

"You mean when you basically demanded it?" 

Sans playfully slapped his chest. "Wasn't done yet," he told him.

Grillby's brow rose in surprise, silent as he waited for him to continue.

"Holdin' my hips down when you finished me off," he added with a quiet breath. "Left marks, look," he lifted the edge of his shirt and pushed down the waist of his sweats and boxers. "You could see 'em better that night." He said as he traced the very faint pink outline of Grillby's hands.

"You… liked me leaving fucking bruises?" Grillby asked with mild horror at learning he'd been that rough. But the way Sans bit his lip through a smile and nodded down at him chased that far from his mind. He took note that had apparently been a good thing and wondered just how rough Sans liked to be handled during sex.

He was about to ask that when Sans pulled his hands up to his hips, covering the barely-visible marks perfectly.

"You," Sans hesitated. "No one's ever been totally on-board with my teeth bein' well, on their crotch." he chuckled, changing his phrasing to make it lighter. Grillby sensed the quick diversion but didn't call him on a 'sneaky' answer either. "Usually takes some convincing." 

"And it's something you like to do, to… other people?"

Sans nodded with a small shrug. "It's, you know, nice little ego-boost to let someone use you to get-off sometimes."

They were both surprised at the small shiver that passed through Sans when Grillby's expression very briefly hardened and he unconsciously tightened the grip on the skeletons hips.

"What was that about?" Grillby asked.

"I'm askin' you the same." Sans shot back, sockets wide with an awkward smile. "You answer first."

"I think you already know the answer to that one." 

"I'm sure I do, I still wanna hear it."

Grillby let his head fall back to the bed with a sigh, his hands almost fell too but Sans held them in place. He was annoyed he couldn't enjoy that fact more. He settled for stroking his thumbs over Sans' hips as he tried to calm down a little to answer him.

"I… do not like the idea of you with other people. I hate it, actually."

"Why?" Sans pressed, his hands still keeping Grillby's on him. He shut his sockets when his grip tightened again, controlling the shiver this time. "Tell me," he sighed, struggling to keep his voice loud enough to be heard and not shake.

Grillby gave a short growl, lifting his face to glare at Sans. "Are you try-?" He stopped short, eyes taking in the sight before him.

Sans' face was flushed with red, his hands holding tight to Grillby's, his sockets were half-open as he looked down at him, mouth parted as he tried to keep his breathing quiet.

"Y-Yeah, I am trying to piss you off." Sans admitted, a little breathless. Not even trying to soften the confession with a fake smile.

"Why?" Grillby demanded in confusion.

"It's really fucking hot, that's why." He sighed, spreading his thighs until his full weight rested on Grillby's lap.

"What…?"

"C'mon, don't make me try to explain it." Sans replied, looking away with a hint of embarrassment. "Just uh, just answer the question? Why do you hate it?"

"Be… because they don't deserve you."

"Mm, not quite." Sans teased, slowly grinding his hips down.

Grillby's eyes flickered, losing focus. Had Sans done this to him yet? Straddling his dick and grinding against him on purpose? He'd sat in his lap while kissing him the nearly a week ago, but he hadn't done this.

"I w-want you to myself."

"Huh-uh," Sans shook his skull with a dark smile, rocking his hips. "Say it. The real reason."

Grillby looked away, ashamed.

"Just-! Just fucking say it!"

"Because you're mine!" Grillby snapped, jerking Sans' hips. Hard enough to pull him off balance and make him brace his arms on the bed beside his face with a gasp.

"Fuck, yes…" Sans breathed, sockets closed with a weak smile. When he opened them again Grillby was staring back at him, expression unreadable. Sans chuckled. "Guess we're both pretty fucked-up, huh?"

"O-oh," Grillby said in soft realization.

Sans leaned down and kissed him. They shared a short moan when Grillby arched his body to meet Sans'. It took a significant amount of focus on Grillby's part to not buck his hips or roll on top of the skeleton, to only press their bodies together. He shifted his attention fully to their kiss, holding his skull at angle. He drove his tongue into Sans' mouth, quickly overtaking him. Sans tried to pull back, but moaned when Grillby held him in place with a possessive growl, biting his lip. The hand on Sans' hip tugged him harder down, sliding to his ass.

Sans chuckled, sinking against him as Grillby lost himself completely for several minutes. 

Sans was not only okay with Grillby's intense obsession with having him to himself, he was… excited by the idea? It gave him permission to start to let that piece of himself show, no longer as worried about scaring the skeleton if he did. Sans wanted control, but he was willing to let Grillby take it, too. He had the suspicion Sans would someday willingly give him total control and that idea just added fuel to the fire of his desire.

He wouldn't abuse it either. He'd give Sans freedom as he gained his trust, but he wanted him to know who he really belonged to. That Grillby was the only one who could have him like this. Heart, soul, mind, and body. All of it. Only for him.

And for the first time it felt like that possibility was in reach.

He'd, of course, been planning to never let Sans know how intensely jealous and possessive and obsessed he was. But that ship had already sailed about a month ago and it seemed like Sans was on-board now too.

When they paused, Sans stared down at him. Smug at first before his face shifted as he took in Grillby's expression. Arrogant, confidently possessive, his smirk sultry and self-assured. Another first. He immediately associated it with the similar way he'd looked down at him once he got the hint that Sans wanted him to take control and fuck his face.

He'd thoroughly enjoyed seeing the elemental pleading and begging. But he'd nearly forgotten the way his smug confidence had almost broken his resolve before he taunted him on camera from his bed. He quickly realized that was an important turning point and one he would have missed if Grillby had teased him just one more time.

Oh… I am so fucked-up… Sans thought as he dove in for another kiss, suddenly desperate to see that side of Grillby again. But Grillby stopped him by grabbing the back of his neck from under his collar, which only made him crave that even more.

"Weren't we going to eat breakfast?" Grillby asked with a sly grin.

Sans quickly recovered. "You just want an excuse to do all the shit I just admitted to you." He told him with a smirk.

"Oh, you bet your sweet ass I do," he purred, brushing his lips against Sans'.

Sans pushed him away, shifting sideways off his lap. But not before Grillby caught the way his whole face blushed bright red.

*

They sat comfortably together on the couch after breakfast. They'd cooked together, sharing playful, teasing touches and two very heated kisses that ended with both of them breathless and Grillby trapped between the counter and Sans. Until the eggs started to burn.

Sans reclined against the arm with his legs laid over Grillby's lap. Sans had his hands folded over the open book on his chest, watching Grillby closely as he silently read. Something in Italian, a language Sans had zero chance of knowing considering everyone underground only spoke English. There were Latin classes at the University in NewHome, but beyond some ultra-nerds who had diligently taught themselves Japanese and Korean through anime and manga that filtered down, there weren't any other languages spoken or learned.

"What're you reading?" Sans asked.

"Hm?" Grillby looked back at him. "Oh, um, Dante's Inferno."

Sans wracked his brain as he recognized the title, thinking back if he read it in college or not. A few things knocked around as he frowned in thought. He struggled to remember the order of the circles of hell before his face brightened. "Which circle do you think you'd fall in? Lust or Treachery?"

"You've read Inferno?" Grillby asked a little surprised, and a little impressed.

Sans shrugged. "Sometime in college, yeah. I almost got a lit minor." he told him with a wink. "How do you have a copy in… Italian, right? I don't uh, I got no clue what that says, but Dante was Italian, right?"

Grillby's surprise only deepened. "Ye-yeah, I managed to keep it around a-after I found it." he replied.

"Liar," Sans accused with a smirk. He gestured to the book. "That looks about ten years old at the most."

"Uh, shit, you're right." Grillby chuckled with a sigh. "Fuck, um… force of habit. It's…"

"You forget I know your birth name is Latin?" 

Grillby laughed with another long sigh, still smiling as he closed the book and gently set it on the coffee table. He rested both hands on Sans' legs, one on his shin and the other on his thigh. "Yeah, I did." he admitted. "Uh, I got a few copies made for myself over the years after we came underground. Much easier to manage now that I can use a computer instead of how I used to have it done."

"So you're the reason why it's even down here at all?"

Grillby shrugged a little uncomfortably. "Yeah, probably." He cast Sans a weak smile. "And honestly, I'd probably end up in Wrath. No, wait, Violence. I forgot there's a distinction, heh. If the scales are weighed by the time-frame and not the most egregious."

"Wrath or Violence?" Sans questioned.

Grillby nodded before scoffing. "I didn't get most of these scars from just fucking people."

Sans snickered. "Most? So there's some from uh… shit. Sorry." he apologized as he realized what he'd said.

Grillby patted his thigh reassuringly. "Nah, there's some fun ones in there" he told him.

Sans blinked back at him in flat shock.

"What? It can be fun when you heal almost-instantly. And, you know, been around long enough, you'll try anything at least once." Grillby chuckled at Sans' wide sockets and blank expression. "Thinking about that day with the knife, aren't you?" 

"N-" Sans started to deny it before he stopped. "Heh, yeah."

"You know… tungsten has a melting point of six thousand degrees." Grillby said, stroking his thumb above Sans' knee. "And molten rock is only around two thousand…" he added with a sly grin. "Might be something for a special occasion sometime," he said, enjoying the excitement in Sans' gaze far too much for either of them to be completely sane.

A fact that made both of their hearts race when they came to the same conclusion.

"That reminds me, you haven't told me what I do that you like." Sans said.

Grillby scoffed, "Like you haven't figured that out already?" 

Sans shrugged with a short frown. "Maybe I like hearin' it out loud."

"Like when you've made me scream?" 

Sans blushed, embarrassed at the heat that darted to his crotch. He quickly recovered, "I still remember the look on your face when I screamed your name."

Grillby closed his eyes for a moment, turning away to stay composed. 

"So, gonna tell me, baby?" 

Grillby smiled before he glanced back at him. "The pet-names, for one." 

Sans blinked at him in confusion for a few seconds until he realized he'd been using some version of 'babe' or 'sweetheart' the entire time. "Oh." 

"Mm-hm," Grillby nodded with a knowing smile. "Since that night on camera."

"Oh," Sans' sockets furrowed slightly.

"I like when you boss me around," Grillby added, his right hand sliding up Sans' thigh, all the way to his hip before he dragged it roughly to the couch near his ass. "When you talk dirty, you definitely need to do that more often." he leaned on his arm and slowly slid onto his knees over Sans' legs. "When you jerk my flames to make me pay attention to you, fucking hell, that's the best."

He carefully crawled up Sans' body until he was braced on the couch arm beneath Sans' skull, looking down at him. "You can be as rough as you want with me, love." 

"Yeah?" Sans breathed, pupils darting over his face. He gulped before managing a smirk back up at him. "How rough?" 

"I want you to figure it out," Grillby sighed.

"Apparently knives are uh, fair game in the future." Sans whispered, breathing faster as Grillby lowered his body to meet him, sitting snug against his lap.

"I like when you're flustered," Grillby sighed against his throat, chuckling darkly when Sans' breath hitched and he turned his skull to show his neck. "But I love when you're in charge."

"S-same to you," Sans mumbled as he reached up for him.

"Mm, yeah?" Grillby asked as he leaned closer.

Sans nodded, tipping his chin back for the anticipated kiss. Grillby smiled, soft and smug and confident as he closed his eyes.

Sans put his foot against the coffee table and pushed it hard, making it slide crookedly several feet across the carpet. Grillby's face snapped to see and Sans shoved up from the couch, throwing Grillby to the floor. The elemental gasped, though it was quickly cut-off as Sans wrapped the chain around his fist and pulled it tight, his other hand pinned Grillby's shoulder to the floor.

Grillby's eyes were wide, a surprised and completely unpoised sound softly escaped around the pressure constricting his throat.

Sans stared down at him as he instinctively reached for his throat, though Sans was far from cutting off his blood or air. Grillby was breathing hard when Sans braced his hands over his shoulders on the floor, the chain still wrapped around his left hand. Already snugly between his thighs, Sans arched his body, grinding his cock against his ass.

"Hh-! Mm!"

"Rough enough?" Sans purred, tugging once to get Grillby's attention. 

Grillby gave him a breathless smile and shook his head.

"Alright," Sans nodded, a little sadistic mischief gleaming in his sockets. "What can't I do to you?"

Grillby's brain stalled-out… Was there anything he didn't want Sans to do to him?

"W-well, I would say don't kill me, but I…" He gave a crooked, embarrassed grin. "Can't say I'd stop you…?" He cringed a little. "If uh, y-you wanted to while… fucking me?"

"J… Jesus Christ, Grillby." Sans whispered in horror, his grip on the chain going slack.

Grillby's cringe deepened with a slow shrug before he just covered his face. He sighed roughly, head dropping back on the floor. After a moment he let his hands drop and he spoke while staring up at the ceiling.

"I uh… want you to do whatever the fuck you want to me."

"Ye-yeah, I fuckin' believe you. Dude, what the fuck?"

Grillby chanced a look down his body at Sans and blinked in surprise at the expression barely-hidden by one hand half-covering his face. The other still loosely gripped the chain connecting them both.

Oh.

The look was conflicted, his visible pupil darted over the floor, seeing nothing as he was clearly thinking hard about the new information he'd just learned about the other man.

"Um, p-part of that is tr-trusting you won't kill me? I guess?" Grillby added nervously, worried he'd crossed a line by being too honest.

Sans blinked once, his expression changing immediately as he stared back at Grillby. A wicked smile darkened his face, his scarlet pupil sharp and small for the split-second before he blinked again and his hand dropped. He softened only slightly, his sockets narrowing and erasing the very brief unhinged look.

But Grillby caught all of it, and had the shortest glimpse into the sadistic depths of Sans' soul.

OH.

FUCK.

YES!

Grillby blushed, heart racing wildly as Sans wrapped the chain around his palm before clenching his fist. He leaned slowly forward until he was braced over Grillby again. He jerked hard with a soft growl when Grillby unknowingly tried to slide back, pulling a shuddering whine from him, eyes trained intently on Sans' face.

"Oh, no, sweetheart. That wasn't what you said." Sans purred with a slow blink and a very slight shake of his skull. "You said, you wouldn't stop me. That goes way beyond trust."

Grillby's eyes flickered, breath hitching when Sans pulled the chain tighter, the links digging into his skin. But he could still breathe.

"That, is the most fucked-up thing I've ever heard someone say to me. And I have heard some fucked-up shit in my life." Sans told him, pulling again to bring Grillby's face close enough to kiss. He watched closely as the other man bit his lip in anticipation, his eyes furrowed with desire as he briefly, probably unconsciously, arched his hips against the skeleton. Sans leaned slightly closer, sighing over his lips.

"And I've never been more turned on in my fucking life," Sans scoffed darkly. "The fuck does that say about me?" He softly whispered. "And why don't I give a single fuck, 'cause it means I got you?"

Those words shot right through Grillby's soul, straight to his crotch. Sans had him. Sans wanted him.

"Nnh," he weakly moaned, leaning back to put more pressure around his throat.

Sans kissed him, earning a louder moan before he pinned Grillby's head to the floor and harshly chased his lips. He kept the chain tight in his fist near Grillby's shoulder. Not tight enough to choke, just tight enough to remind him it was a possibility. He shifted his hips so their dicks were pressed together through their infuriatingly thick clothes.

"Off," Sans snarled, "Get them, off." 

Grillby's hands trembled as he tried to catch his breath and listen at the same time.

"Fff-fuck, hurry up!"

Grillby nodded clumsily, overzealous as he gave up on trying to just get their clothes out of the way and burning right through the thin layers of fabric, pulling away the ruined shreds until their cocks were side by side. 

"Hhh-hold 'em," Sans commanded. Grillby rushed to listen, eagerly taking both of their dicks in his hand. He was rewarded with a deep groan from the skeleton above him and all sound being choked from him as his body arched. "Stay put," Sans added before rolling his hips, thrusting into his hot palm and against his even hotter cock.

"Y-you remember our bet?" Sans asked, loosening the chain to let Grillby catch a wild gasp.

He tried to wrack his brain and gave up almost immediately, shaking his head with a low groan as his hips worked to thrust with Sans, forgetting he'd been told to stay put.

"You cum first, and I get to do whatever the fuck I want to you. All. Night."

He just nodded, his free hand grasped blindly for the chain near his throat, trying to tug down while their bodies still worked in tandem.

"You d–nngh!" Sans groaned when Grillby started to pump his hand, too. "You didn't ev-even hear me, did you?" He breathlessly laughed.

Grillby whined, eyes closing tight as his chin tipped up, trying again to pull down on the chain.

"You j-just wanna cum, huh?"

Grillby nodded fervently, unable to make the words come out.

Sans grinned wickedly down at him, making something abruptly pull tight in his gut. His muscles tensed, jerking once as his jaw dropped open to breathe, desperate for air and even more desperate to suffocate. If Sans would let him. 

He wanted his lungs to burn, his chest to ache, he wanted adrenaline and magic to scald through his veins, he wanted his mind to go dark and panicked as that deep piece of self-preservation tried and failed miserably to make him breathe. He might have actually wanted Sans to kill him.

"Pl-please," he whispered, his hand found Sans' fist and wrapped around it. "Please…"

Sans' sockets shut tight for several harsh breaths, his movements faltering. "F-fuck…"

"PLEASE!" Grillby screamed, his back bowing at the precipice of ecstasy.

"Shhhit! Go, go ahead!" Sans moaned, jerking viciously on the chain. His sockets widened at the way Grillby pulled the chain even harder than he'd been willing to. The links visibly digging into his skin.

Sans watched in awe as Grillby grit his teeth together in a pained, ecstatic grimace. His white eyes stared back into his before his head snapped back again. His own body stilled as Grillby kept working his hand around them. He arched against the vice around his throat as he came, eyes shut tight and jaw open in a silent scream. When his other hand reached for his throat, unconsciously or not, Sans immediately released the chain and Grillby gasped, his body jerked ahead of a long, low moan and his free hand grabbed Sans' bicep hard enough to burn. Not that Sans noticed. Or cared.

Sans had resumed the quick pace of his hips and was cumming before he realized it, ducking his face into Grillby's chest and groaning. He collapsed breathless on top of the other man as Grillby brokenly moaned with every other stilted breath.

After their breathing and pulses settled, Sans reached up blindly and tapped Grillby's face. "H-hey, you… you still with me?"

"Uh-hh-huh…" Grillby weakly affirmed, voice cracking.

"Any lasting damage?"

"N-no," Grillby croaked, coughing softly.

Sans chuckled, his own voice breaking. "Good," he sighed, adjusting comfortably on Grillby's chest. "But uh, I won."

Grillby opened his eyes in surprise, wrapping his arms comfortably around Sans. Another chance to have Sans dominate him in bed? Maybe he had died. "If you s-say so," he replied.