The December sequel to the No Nut N☆vember bit.
~~~
Papyrus calmly finishes himself off and rights his clothes, much to Sans's confusion. Papyrus informs him that since No Nut N☆vember has successfully concluded, it's only fair that they now begin Destroy D☆ck December to make up for it, and day 1 permits them only 1 org☆sm.
At first, Sans just groans in frustration. Then, in horror, he remembers how the rest of it goes.
"* ohhh no. no no no. i know you've got stamina for days, but i can't. we are not. we are not doing this." "IT'S A BONDING EXPERIENCE." "* no." "YOU DON'T WANT TO BOND?" "* there won't be a me to bond with by day 31." "NONSENSE! YOU JUST DON'T KNOW THE PROPER TECHNIQUE." "* what? what's that even supposed to mean?" "DON'T WORRY, YOU'RE IN CAPABLE HANDS. I'LL MAKE SURE YOU SURVIVE AND FILL YOUR DAILY QUOTA." "* what???"
But that's all he gets.
At the end of the next day (the actual next calendar day), Papyrus asks him if he's finished with the day's challenge yet. He hasn't, because he was kind of scared of what Papyrus had planned. Papyrus scoffs, "YOU CAN'T EVEN DO DAY 2 ON YOUR OWN? EVEN AFTER A MONTH OF ABSTINENCE? YOU REALLY ARE HOPELESS WITHOUT ME," and promptly shoves his hand down Sans's shorts. He's given enough of a break after the first round that the second isn't too bad. Sans wants to enjoy it, but he's also fiercely dreading the days ahead.
At the end of the third day, Papyrus checks in with him again. Sans says he managed to r☆b one out earlier when he came home for lunch. After some intense scrutinizing, Papyrus accepts the answer and gets to work on squeezing the last two out of him. "YOU SHOULD TRY A LITTLE HARDER. WE HAD LESS THAN AN HOUR LEFT TONIGHT!"
At the end of the fourth day, Sans lies that he got through three of them during his breaks. Papyrus calls him on it immediately, brazenly pulling his soul out to inspect. He's intimately familiar with what Sans's soul and magic should look and feel like after that much activity. He memorized it during their honeymoon phase, back when they could hardly keep their hands off of each-other. "AND AGAIN, WE HAVE LESS THAN AN HOUR LEFT." And like that, he's forced through four org☆sms as rapidly as Papyrus' hands can work. "YOU HAVE NOBODY TO BLAME FOR THIS BUT YOURSELF," he's scolded as he tries to squirm away between two and three. "YOU SHOULD TRY TO TAKE THIS A BIT MORE SERIOUSLY," he's held down as he cries through the fourth.
In the morning of the fifth day, Papyrus scolds him before they leave the house, "EVEN AFTER LAST NIGHT, YOU STILL HAVEN'T CHANGED YOUR STRATEGY. OBVIOUSLY YOU NEED MORE HELP." He's trapped against the front door until Papyrus has managed to get him through the first of the day. "THE SECRET IS PACING YOURSELF! STOP MAKING ME HAVE TO RUSH YOU THROUGH THE QUOTA ALL AT ONCE. INSTEAD OF LYING, YOU SHOULD ACTUALLY MAKE USE OF YOUR BREAKS."
He tries, but he's lost any interest in mast☆rbating by day eight. Papyrus says that's fine, he has no problem with continuing to help. So Papyrus shows up for each of his breaks, cornering and tugging him through it, marking it off on a freaking itinerary he's brought along.
By day ten, he asks if they can at least have s☆x instead of Papyrus jerking him off. "OF COURSE NOT! IT'S 'DESTROY D☆CK DECEMBER', NOT 'ANNIHILATE ☆SS AUGUST', 'SUNDER SNATCH SEPTEMBER' OR EVEN 'OBLITERATE ORIFICE OCTOBER'."
"* oh my god."
"THOUGH NOW THAT YOU MENTION IT, THOSE SOUND LIKE GOOD EXERCISES TOO! GOOD IDEA, SANS! WE'LL ADD THEM TO NEXT YEAR'S CALENDAR."
"* is this your way of telling me you hate me? that you want me dead?"
"NONSENSE! THESE ARE EXERCISES IN RESTRAINT AND FORTITUDE! AND I'VE BEEN TELLING YOU FOR YEARS THAT YOU COULD USE MORE EXERCISE. THINK OF HOW MUCH MORE ENERGY YOU'LL HAVE BY THE END OF THIS!"
"* yeah, sure, use my dust for a pre-workout shake."
"DON'T BE SO DRAMATIC! NOW, YOU DID HAVE A POINT. IT WOULD BE MUCH MORE EFFICIENT TO GET BOTH OF US DONE AT ONCE."
And thus Papyrus's own schedule to power through the day's quota becomes Sans's. Even if he won't wake up, Papyrus is on top of him bright and early jerking both their c☆cks off with one hand. When Sans doesn't have the energy to shortcut back home during breaks, there's a dual colored mess left dripping from the bottom of his post that he also doesn't have the energy to clean.
True to his word, Papyrus paces them well enough through the days that it's not too horrible--at least until the final stretch. He was able to will himself through at least a little bit of his days off that he didn't share with Papyrus, but he can't muster the interest, energy, or magic to even form anything on his own now. So Papyrus works them overtime during his own breaks, invading and forcing at least a more crudely shaped ph☆llus to manifest. He didn't even know that was possible--someone else forcing it, or the shape degrading. It's only their shared days off that Papyrus's pacing strategy has any effect.
By day 28, he's pretty sure he's leaked more from his eye sockets with each session than anything his d☆ck could possibly offer at this point. Even after being together for a few years, he's still amazed at how Papyrus just gets up and bounds away in a straight line like nothing happened after coming three times in a row during just one of their breaks--meanwhile Sans literally needs a nap so bad that he doesn't have a choice in the matter.
By day 29, he's begging to stop. He's empty. Both of them still in hand, Papyrus tuts, "OF COURSE YOU'RE EMPTY. THEY'VE BEEN DRY BEFORE THE HALF-WAY POINT FOR OVER A WEEK NOW. THAT'S NOT NEW."
"* how are you even keeping track then?!"
"I'VE BEEN ACCURATE, HAVEN'T I?"
Sans sobs as he nods. Even with nothing coming out, Papyrus has perfectly marked each one on that stupid itinerary as it happens.
"THEN THERE'S NO PROBLEM! IT'S ONLY TWO MORE DAYS. I HAVE FAITH IN YOU!"
He passes out before the last five of the day can be wrung from him, but he's sure Papyrus still managed to manipulate his body somehow.
They both take the final days off out of necessity to see it through to the end. It's almost easy compared to the days before, not needing to frantically rush through as many as possible during breaks. Papyrus is as gentle as he can be with all of the extra time on their hands. It would almost be relaxing if it didn't hurt so much that Sans spent more time unconscious than conscious.
Sans is such a mess of sweat and tears that they've relocated to the bathtub. Incoherent, half-formed babble falls out of his mouth like another glob of drool as the countdown to the new year begins and Papyrus squeezes them together one last time. He doesn't have enough energy to scream as the final torturous org☆sm of this awful game tears through him without an ounce of satisfaction. Of course nothing comes out, but he swears if he had a brain, the last of it surely liquefied and dribbled out somewhere. He's not entirely sure he even remembers what language he speaks. He certainly can't read any of the lineup of Papyrus's soap bottles even when his eyes focus enough to see the words.
Papyrus washes and dries them both, and Sans is grateful that they're finally putting this behind them and he can just sleep. But the next thing he knows, he's laying limply on Papyrus's bed with his brother's phalanges and magic manipulating him into making a hole. He weakly protests with a wobbling whimper and impotent twitch of his leg, and Papyrus stops and looks up from his work with the most patient smile. "DO YOU REMEMBER YOUR S☆FEWORD?"
Sans isn't sure if the reformed magic is more or less sensitive after the ph☆llus had given out earlier.
"* c- ahh.. c-catsup." "GOOD! ARE YOU USING IT?"
The exit is right there. He's known it's always been right there from the start. Papyrus doesn't move. He doesn't understand how Papyrus could possibly still have any energy left, let alone desire.
"* hmmmnhh..." "WORDS, SANS. TAKE YOUR TIME."
Even if he doesn't understand the how, he can feel the why in the lovestruck intent that Papyrus is absolutely radiating. He involuntarily clenches around the fingers inside him and sobs.
"* no... 'm no--t..."
The fingers are retracted and Papyrus slides in effortlessly with one last verbal reminder of how much he loves his big brother. It doesn't last long at all--maybe a minute before he's coming for the final time that night and the last thing he feels before he passes out is Papyrus throbbing inside of him.
On January 1st, Sans finally asks Papyrus how the hell he was able to bust so many out in such short succession when their time in the bedroom prior to these 'exercises' usually had him needing so much stimulation to reach cl☆max that Sans hardly ever had enough energy to get him there by his own effort even once in an evening. Papyrus grins, "I HAVE IMPECCABLE CONTROL." But when Sans narrows his sockets, "OR MAYBE SEEING YOU OVERSTIMULATED JUST REALLY DOES IT FOR ME."
