Merry Christmas, @monster-loverr! This year I’m your secret santa from @secretsantafrans--I do hope you enjoy the art AND the fic, since I had quite a bit of fun making them.
Fic below! In keeping with the request, it’s Underfell and Frisk is identified with male pronouns. Hopefully, it strikes a good balance between cute and hot as well.
The first thing Sans heard when he woke up from his nap was the sound of feet pounding against the dry, rocky road outside his Hotland sentry post. He barely lifted his head up when he heard and felt the loud smack and jolt of someone slapping something against his post’s sill.
The thing on the sill was a greasy pile of gold, half hidden under Frisk’s hand as he hissed “A hundred g if you let me in there too.”
He probably should have insisted on doubling the price, but there was genuine panic on the human’s face, so he leaned to the side and Frisk hopped over without another word. Quickly, he pocketed the coins while Frisk ducked down at the foot of Sans’s stool—just in time as Undyne came barreling through the corridor.
“Where the fuck did he go?” she snapped, breathing hard despite the climate controlled armor Alphys had made her. Hotland might be more tolerable for her if she wore her girlfriend’s present, but it still wasn’t a pleasant place to exercise. That was half the reason Sans preferred to hide out here.
Sans just raised his nonexistent eyebrows at her and began to fish around in his pocket until he found his lighter and pack of cigarettes. “Where did who go?”
A spear shattered one of the back posts of Sans’s post, the air by his head still humming with magic from where it sailed past him. “You know EXACTLY who I mean!”
Fucking hell, it was a good thing monsters didn’t defecate as he’d probably would have ruined his pants with that one; still, he did his best to look calm as he fumbled with lighting a cigarette. Truth was Undyne liked Papyrus too much to kill Sans, because despite what it might look like to outsiders, Pap wouldn’t have put up with Sans’s bullshit for this long if he didn’t love the shit out of him. In theory, Sans was one of the few monsters safe from Undyne’s wrath. Still, he was pushing his luck; below, Frisk squeezed his ankle out of sympathy.
After cautiously blowing a puff of smoke, he pointed down towards the other end of the path. “That way.”
Undyne huffed, neither thanks nor threat, and took off.
Sans watched her disappear before finally breathing a sigh of relief. “Okay, what the fuck did you do to her today to get her so mad that she’s chasing you through Hotland?”
When he looked down, he saw Frisk giving him a particularly toothy grin. “What, you mean besides existing?”
Sans glared. “Smart ass act today? I oughta call her back and sic her on you.”
Frisk quickly latched his other hand onto Sans’s leg and pouted up at him. “No, please, I’ll be good.”
Sans snorted. “As if I’d believe that. Next time, I’m demanding five hundred g.”
That sly look on the human’s face did funny things to Sans’s theoretical heart, but the warm palm that slid up his inner leg to rub at his thigh did worse. “What if I could make it up to you another way?” He even had the audacity to flutter his lashes as he fingered the in-seam of Sans’s jeans.
Sans took a deep drag off his cigarette, lifting his chin so Frisk couldn’t see the way his skull was glowing bright with blush. Once he mastered his aura, he turned his face back down and blew a billow of smoke into the human’s face. “I’m not into exhibitionism,” he grumbled as Frisk laughed.
Ah, that wicked smile would be the death of Sans. “But in private?” he asked as if Sans wasn’t perfectly aware that his other hand had left Sans’s ankle to pilfer a cigarette from his pocket.
“Later, you little shit.” He was distracted when Frisk put the cigarette to his lips and then gestured to Sans to bend down. Rolling his eyes, he forced his grin not to widen as he leaned down. As Frisk pressed the unlit end of his cigarette to Sans’s and inhaled, lighting it, Sans reached down and grabbed a fistful of Frisk’s singed short hair—must have nearly lost a fight to a fire elemental, like Pyrope, again—and pulled.
(He also made a mental note to mention the burnt hair to Papyrus—see if half the Underground didn’t immediately try to murder the ignited bunch of rope by the end of the week.)
The wanton moan that escaped Frisk’s lips made him seriously reconsidered that no-sex-in-public policy. “Handsome, you can’t just tease me like that and say no sex until later.”
Sans grunted, carding his phalanges through Frisk’s hair again and again as he puffed on his quickly vanishing cigarette. “Behave or there won’t be a later.”
His breathing hitched as Frisk pressed a kiss against Sans’s knee—fuck, even through the thick denim, he could still feel the hot breath. “I’ll be good.”
For one blissful moment, they were quiet together and Sans forgot what a shithole the Underground was. Then Frisk tugged Sans’s hand free from his hair so that he could press kisses to the metacarpals, making Sans ache in a way that told him if he didn’t stop this, then he really would end up hopping off his stool and indulging in some public debauchery.
Only by plumbing the deepest wells of his willpower did he pull his hand away from Frisk’s mouth; but then he still couldn’t resist the siren call of longing to touch his skin, so he caught Frisk’s nose between his fingers and tugged. “Answer my question, shithead.”
Frisk groaned. “What was the question?”
“What did you do to piss off ol’ shark bait?”
“Oh, Undyne?” he chuckled, all innocent grins. “I might have insinuated that Papyrus liked me better than her.”
Sans let go of his nose so that he could smack him—gently, or Frisk’d start moaning like a whore again to tease him—across the head. “Idiot. Don’t go dragging my brother into your mess.”
“Well, I didn’t mean it as seriously as she took it.”
“Yeah, well, all the same, keep Papyrus out of your horseshit.”
Frisk laughed, but it was no mirthful thing. It was enough to almost make Sans frown. “I can’t seem but help dragging people into stuff. You, Papyrus, Flowey, Mettaton…”
He considered the drooping human who clutched at his ankle like a lifeline and then crushed his cigarette out. His hand slipped from Frisk’s hair to cup his chin and force him to look up. “Look. Maybe a little bit of trouble is fine. Just… take care of yourself and we won’t have to go wading in to help you.”
Frisk chuckled softly, caught Sans’s hand in his and pressed it to his cheek, closing his eyes as he leaned in. “I’ll try.”
Sans huffed. “You better.” He let Frisk hold his hand to his cheek for a long moment before clearing his throat. “Welp. I think this is enough work for today.”
Frisk’s eyes flew open, mischief and glee twinkling in them again, to his great relief. “Oh? So, does this mean you’re going to make good on your promise?”
Just to be contrary, Sans snorted. “I didn’t promise anything.”
Standing, Frisk tossed his arms around Sans’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to the corner of Sans’s left eye socket. “Don’t tease me, Sans. It only makes me want you more.”
“Fucking hell,” he muttered, but the rough edge to his voice had nothing to do with irritation as Frisk’s mouth inched closer to his, the human pressing more kisses as he went.
It may have truly devolved into some public fun times, but a loud roar of rage made them stop. Just down the dry road, Undyne was screaming towards them, sounding an awful lot like she was shouting “You little shits!”
Frisk had the audacity to wave as Sans decided to get while the going was good, wrapping his arms around Frisk’s middle and tugging them through a shortcut to a quieter, more private place.
