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twentydaysofdrabbles · 1 year ago

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The Concierge Receives Affection (Part 52)

A gasp catches in your throat as you grab at the seat to control your fall, but strong hands around your hips guide your descent well. Tumbling into a surprisingly bony lap, you look back and find Sans grinning lasciviously at you. "hey gorgeous~" he purrs, pressing his teeth up against your cheek.

"Sans," you say, trying and failing to stop the smile from blooming on your lips. Around you, the cabin dims until it is nearly pitch black. People shift and mutter, but otherwise everyone goes quiet and beds down to sleep. You're certain that some others are awake, and so keep your voice down. "What are you doing?"

Sans gently shifts you until you are sitting sideways on his lap which...gets softer the longer you sit on them? Well, in any event he shifts you until your back is resting against his arm as he wraps it around your waist, until you are facing both him and Papyrus.

Reaching down with the hand not pinned up against Sans' chest, you touch his thigh gently and marvel at how flesh-like it feels. He has done something to them, you theorise, because his lap was a lot harder not a few moments ago.

"ecto-body, baby," he purrs against your cheek, licking it gently with his glowing tongue. "can't have yer seat be all hard and bony."

Ecto-body?

"SANS, UNHAND THEM AND LET THEM GO BACK TO THEIR SEAT," Papyrus hisses at Sans, though notably, he doesn't protest when your legs press up against the outside of his thigh. And instead of pushing you away, the younger skeleton brother actually takes your legs and drapes it across his lap which also get a little fuller the longer you look at them, a little softer. He has apparently summoned his 'ecto-body' as well.

You still don't know what an ecto-body is.

Papyrus' crimson eye lights look at you. Meeting your gaze with his own. Holding it for a few heartbeats before he looks away, a soft blush on his cheekbones.

"doesn't seem like yer too keen on them movin' anywhere, boss," Sans teases his brother, still nuzzling your cheek with his teeth in a skeleton kiss.

You sigh softly but don't move, shaking your head at the way Papyrus scowls at Sans without heat. "I'm quite comfortable where I am," you offer, shifting until you've found a comfortable angle to sit at, with your shoulder resting against Sans' chest.

Although now that you're not moving, the bruises on your back and thighs throb and ache, and your hands have petrified in the moments you weren't moving. You sigh through your nose and grit your teeth through the discomfort of uncurling your fingers from your palms. It takes a moment, but you manage to tuck your index finger under the hem of your glove, intending to take it off.

Sans stops you with a hand on your wrist, murmuring against your ear, "lemme do it." Without waiting for your response, he carefully avoids the mechanism that would trigger your hidden blade and pulls your blood-soaked glove off to reveal your scarred hand. The same is repeated to your other glove.

Though the cabin is dark, though the only lights near you are Sans and Papyrus's eyes, you still tense the moment the dry, cool air brushes over your skin. In contrast to the blood soaked fabric, there is none on your skin, leaving it clean, if a little clammy from dried sweat.

As always, Sans can read you too well, though it helps that he's pressed up against you, feeling your every reaction. "got a spare?" Sans dips his head so he can press his teeth to your shoulder. "know ya don't like yer hands bare."

You can barely feel the press of his teeth through the thick fabric of your turtleneck, blouse and coat. Part of you wishes you could. Though...what is stopping you? And you could retrieve your spare pair of gloves at the same time.

So you fish out a spare pair of gloves from an inner pocket with stiff fingers, ones that Papyrus takes from you before Sans can. The older brother sneers at the younger, but Papyrus only turns his nose up and growls, "DON'T HOG."

"Don't fight, please. People want to rest," you say in amusement, shifting around to shrug your coat off. From habit alone, you fold it slowly and toss it onto your empty seat to keep it from wrinkling. Now clad only in your blouse and turtleneck, the closely tailored sleeve of your turtleneck reveals the outline of your gauntlets, the holsters for your hidden blades. It takes only a moment to flick the safeties on both of them; you wouldn't want to accidently trigger them.

Sans seems to forget his gripe with Papyrus taking your gloves as he immediately preoccupies himself with touching your blouse and gun belt, his red eye lights going fuzzy. "want this off, sweets?" He taps at your gun belt.

"If you would be so kind."

"'course."

His deft phalanxes expertly undo the catch to your belt, releasing it with a soft snikt sound. The two guns tucked into it weigh it down, clanging against the armrest with a sound that makes people grumble. "whoops." Sans grin tightens and a little sweat bubbles from his temple.

You smile softly and shake your head, taking it from him and setting it on the other seat with less noise. Now freed from the weight of your ammo belt and the heavy cloth of your coat, you can sink into Sans's oddly comfortable body with a sigh.

Papyrus, now seeing that you're unoccupied, holds his hand out. A silent ask for your own hands. It takes a moment for you to comply, a moment of hesitation born from habit, from not particularly enjoying touching other people without it. But comply you do, slowly but surely.

You tense almost imperceptibly, touching the bones of his palm first with the tips of your fingers. His bones, his hand, it's...not quite like touching human bones. Less porous, and certainly not as dry; not quite sucking all the moisture from your skin. But it is smooth, with a slightly dusty texture, almost like porcelain that's been left alone for a tad too long. Warm, too. Which you almost didn't expect.

While you examine his hand with your bare fingers, Papyrus waits patiently. His crimson eye lights glued onto your face. Beside you, under you, Sans does the same, with his own bare phalanges touching your clothed hip.

The gaps between the more delicate bones of Papyrus' palms glows a gentle red in the darkness, outlining his bones and showing you exactly where he is. You're almost certain that you've seen him and Sans without the lights before; perhaps it is something that they can control. It would be rather difficult to sneak around in the dark when one glows so obviously.

But you're not sneaking around now, and no one is bothering any of you. In this little pocket of privacy, Papyrus is allowing you to indulge in your curiosity, and so you do.

There is a slight little fizz as your fingers trace over the glowing gaps between his bones, like getting too close to a field of harmless static. Papyrus shudders at the touch.

"Is that uncomfortable?" you ask quietly, looking up at him to examine the expression on his scowling face.

It takes a heartbeat for Papyrus to answer, but eventually he does with a slight blush on his face. "IT'S FINE." Ah, perhaps it's uncomfortable in a less...innocent way.

"bones are sensitive, sweets," Sans murmurs into your neck from where he has stuffed his face, inhaling deeply and purring like a cat. "but ya already knew that~"

You did. Sans' neck, Papyrus' hands. You're interested to know where else they would be sensitive. But not now, and certainly not in public.

So you smile and slide one hand fully into Papyrus's, marveling at the sheer difference in size. Your hand is entirely engulfed in his as he curls his phalanges over yours, the warmth of his bones seeping into your skin. It's soothing, especially since the overworked muscles have decided that enough is enough.

The tall skeleton monster sits up in his seat, turning to face you and looming over your hand. Ever so gently, he places your hand on his decidedly not bony thigh and guides the clean gloves over your palms with gentle precision. Intriguingly, the gloves are warm! As if they had been placed on a heater. It is a tad too hot at first, but once your skin gets used to the temperature, it feels like heaven.

Unbidden, a sigh of relief slips from your lips.

Papyrus doesn't even try to restrain the triumphant smirk on his own. "YOU ARE WELCOME."

Sans, still nuzzling at your neck, sticks his tongue out at his brother. "suck up."

"USELESS BAG OF BONES."

"yeah but whose lap are they sitting on--"

Reaching out with both hands, you press your fingers against both the brothers' fangs. The bare one against Papyrus's, the gloved one against Sans. "Do I need to repeat myself?" Despite the smile on your face, your words are stern.

"no, sweetheart."

"NO, MA'AM."

Both sound reluctantly contrite, a fact that makes you smile. But they don't argue, and you take the opportunity to pull your hands away. Only, you don't get very far.

Sans curls his phalanges around your hand to keep it close to his teeth. He says nothing, but those leering eye lights stay fixed on your face as he nuzzles it gently. His breath is warm and feathers over the sliver of skin between glove and gauntlet, tickling you gently as Sans presses skeleton kiss after skeleton kiss to your palm and then the inside of your wrist.

Papyrus, not one to be outdone, slides another warmed glove onto your bare hand, conscious not to be too rough as he does so. But he, too, raises your hand to press his teeth to your knuckles in a chivalrous kiss. A soft blush casts a red glow on your white gloves, but it only serves to soften Papyrus' harshly angular features. Unlike his brother, Papyrus only nuzzles you once before he lets your hand go, sitting back in his seat and spreading his legs so he can press his thigh against your knees.

Your heart flips wetly in your chest at the tenderness these two menacing monsters are showing you. It suddenly casts your mind back to what Sans had said earlier. A closed triad with him and his brother. Perhaps...it wouldn't be so bad after all. And Papyrus seems more than happy to touch you, to give you affection. Perhaps to receive some in return.

Yes, you think as you lean into Sans, letting him nuzzle and kiss your hand to his soul's content, you could get used to this.

As you close your eyes and start to doze in the safety of Sans' embrace and Papyrus' presence next to you, you make a mental note to ask them about their ecto-bodies when you have privacy. Because if it was what you felt when you helped Sans out in that alley...well, you have an idea.

#undertale fics #mafiafell au #mafiafell sans #sans x reader #mafiafell sans x reader #mafiafell papyrus #mafiafell papyrus x reader #papyrus x reader #the concierge #reader insert #ficlet #sorry this is late #had to get surgery and now in recovery so the next few chapters are all gonna be sweet and fluff #and some smexy times #enjoy!

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