Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9296282.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Undertale_(Video_Game)
  Relationship:
      Papyrus/Sans_(Undertale), Papyrus/Papyrus_(Undertale), Chara/Papyrus
  Character:
      Sans_(Undertale), Papyrus_(Undertale), Chara_(Undertale)
  Additional Tags:
      Soul_Sex, Sexual_Slavery, Bondage, Gags, Prostitution, Underage_Chara,
      Ecto-Penis_(Undertale), Oral_Sex, Non-Consensual_Voyeurism
  Series:
      Part 4 of SLAUE
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-12 Words: 2768
****** Wind Up ******
by Askellie_(NadaNine)
Summary
     Chara and Papyrus have words about the state of Red's soul. Edge
     continues to despise captivity and his new owners. Something
     secretive is afoot.
Notes
     Content Warning: Fontfest-y Skele-harem shenanigans. Chara being a
     creeper, as usual. Very dubious consent and coerced sexual slavery.
     Sort of ‘accidental stimulation’ but it’s not terribly accidental.
     Bone-lacing/binding. Referenced abuse/soul rape.
An hour later, Chara is curled up at his side, absently tapping a quiet melody
out on Papyrus's ribs as they bask in the ugly pre-dawn hours. He's still
exhausted, but he can tell this will be one of those days where sleep will only
come with difficulty, if it comes at all. Damn insomnia.
Red has curled into a tight ball at the end of the bed, despite being offered
plenty of room to make himself comfortable. He seemed dubious at even being
allowed on the furniture, let alone making proper use of it, but as cramped as
his position looks he seems to have had no trouble dropping off. Papyrus is
almost a little jealous.
Chara shifts, chin resting on Papyrus's sternum. “So what does that to a
monster?”
“What?” Papyrus asks dully, staring up at the ceiling, counting the loops in
the embossed pattern like he has a thousand times before.
“The soul thing. With Red.”
Ah. He knew that question would be coming sooner rather than later. Papyrus
absently glances over, but Red's body is lax with sleep. He considers. “Lots of
things.”
Because he's an ass, and he's known Chara long enough to get away with it, he
leaves that ambiguous statement to hang absurdly unfinished until Chara beats a
small fist against his chest. “Like what?”
Papyrus sighs. Definitely time for a smoke. He readies one mechanically as he
talks. “Monster souls are only meant to come out under extremely positive
circumstances. Having it appear like Red's does...the mechanism that's meant to
keep it safe has been broken. Forcibly. By someone else.”
Chara cheekily steals the first drag on his cigarette when he lights it up.
Papyrus cracks a smile, amused by the antics, but it's quick to fade as he
continues.
“That's probably the reason his HP is so low, so don't try and get him to talk
about it, okay? You might literally kill him.”
“Fine,” Chara grumbles, playfully petulant. “So how does it happen?”
Papyrus suspects its more than concern for their new acquisition that's driving
Chara's curiosity. He rolls his eyes. Little sadist. “Someone would have kept
forcing his soul out in the open until he couldn't control it any more. There's
a few different ways that can happen. You could try and coerce the monster into
doing it to themselves, but you'd have to have a hell of a lot of leverage.
Most monsters would rather die than let someone screw with their soul,
especially if it was a human doing it.”
He suspects it must have been, because he can't even imagine a monster being
depraved enough to do that to another of their own kind.
“So you don't think that's likely?” Chara asks.
Papyrus shrugs. He doesn't really know Red, so he can only guess.
“You can also try and trick the soul into thinking that the circumstances are
right for it to come out. There's uh...lots of ways to make a soul more
receptive. Drugs. Magic. Sex.”
The last of those is a likely factor given some of Red's scars and his odd
behaviours. Not just any sort of sex either; Red would have had to have been
emotionally compromised and compliant on some level for it to have affected his
soul. Papyrus is going to have to tread really damn carefully with Red until he
knows enough not to trigger any sort of trauma.
“But why do it?” Chara presses, glancing over at the small skeleton.
Papyrus has been wondering that himself, though the more he sees of Red, the
more he's come to formulate a few suspicions. “This is just a guess...you know
how monsters can absorb human souls, but not the reverse?”
Except for Boss Monster souls, but Chara knows that exception all too well.
Their face darkens as they nod.
“Well, some humans don't believe that. They think we're holding out on them,
that there must be some way to absorb a regular monster soul so they can gain
our power or magic or whatever.”
Chara blinks, looking surprised. “So someone was trying to make his soul appear
so they could absorb it? Would that actually work?”
“Nope,” Papyrus says simply. “Doesn't stop humans from trying, though.”
The way Red begs not to have his soul touched...Papyrus can't be certain his
theory is on the money, but whatever Red's been through, someone was obviously
trying to do something with his soul. The idea of some clumsy human manhandling
it, trying to devour it while he's still alive...it's a revolting thought.
Chara's face is tight with thought. “Then...what? They gave up and sold him?”
Papyrus shrugs again, but he can see the dissatisfaction on Chara's face and
can admit that part of his theory seems a little unlikely. It would have taken
a lot of work to train Red as he was; it's hard to imagine someone would have
blithely sold away all that effort.
“Don't know, don't care. He's ours now, which means it's our problem.
I'll...try to figure something out. See if I can fix it a bit.”
“Aww. You're going soft,” Chara teases, clearly amused.
“Go to sleep, brat,” Papyrus grumbles, smothering Chara under a nearby pillow,
making the human burble with laughter. They both settle again, conversation
tapering off companionably.
It's only several minutes later when he finally twists off the side of the
mattress to butt out his spent cigarette in the ashtray beneath the bed that he
remembers the room's other occupant. Edge has been strangely silent in his
corner, which is even more unusual given that he's actually awake and staring
at Papyrus, his eyes narrowed in consideration. Papyrus wonders if he'd
overheard the speculative conversation, but decides it doesn't matter, turning
away and ignoring the other's strangely intense stare.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------
“PAPY!”
A flying blur of cerulean ruffles launches from an impressive distance and
lands on his chest. Papyrus jolts from his light doze, instinctively moving to
catch his assailant and cushion the landing so it's painless for both of them,
and pointedly wheezes, “OOF,” like a good victim should.
“Good morning!” Blue's eyes are literally sparkling, glints of gold amid the
pale cyan of his pupils. “Breakfast is ready! Are you hungry?”
He isn't, but there's no arguing with Blue's enthusiasm, especially not at that
volume. Chara emerges from a nearby mound of blankets, their bluntly shorn
bangs skewed from sleep, yawning pointedly in disdain. Red has roused from his
small, curled pile at the foot of the bed, looking startled. Over by the wall,
Edge just looks resigned. He's had a few weeks to get used to this particular
morning routine.
“Sure,” Papyrus agrees easily, even though he's not craving anything except a
smoke. Casting a sly glance over to Edge's corner he says, “Why don't you take
care of Edge first though. He's had a long night.”
Until he's proven he can be trusted, Edge's chains aren't removed even for
sleeping, so he's forced to try and balance awkwardly upright and snatch
whatever rest exhaustion permits. Despite his admittedly impressive stamina,
the persistent discomfort is starting to wear on him. Edge is looking
particularly dull-eyed this morning.
“Okay!” Blue seems undeterred, scrambling off the bed and straightening the
thick layers of his skirts before approaching Edge. Papyrus turns to watch,
deceptively alert as Blue straightens his posture and then bows respectfully at
the bound skeleton. “Good morning, Edge! Would you like me to clean you up
first before you eat?”
It's always entertaining as hell, watching Edge and Blue interact. Blue can't
seem to fathom why anyone wouldn't want to be part of Chara's household, so
he's never treated Edge like a prisoner. He is always exceptionally polite,
always asks permission and is persistently invested in providing Edge with
whatever limited comfort he can offer. Edge initially seemed downright offended
by this, probably assuming he was being mocked or manipulated, but subsequent
interactions have apparently annulled his concerns. Blue is far too sincere to
attribute any duplicity to his actions.
Edge pauses only long enough to appease whatever strange considerations his ego
requires before giving an amusing stately nod. Blue beams and goes to fetch his
cleaning supplies from the cart he's wheeled into Chara's room, bustling with
efficiency and enthusiasm. He seems somewhat less pleased when he finally
examines Edge's condition up close, however.
“Ugh. Papy, did you really make him sleep like this?” He begins resolutely
scrubbing the dried residue of magical ejaculate off Edge's cheekbone. Edge
shuts his eyesockets and gives a grunt of relief.
“And what's this?” Blue dubiously pucks free the pillow that had been
supporting Edge's lower spine, placed there teasingly by Chara the night
before. It's still faintly damp and streaked with the glistening silver trails
of Red's soul fluids. Blue makes an appalled face. “Ew.”
Red slides off the end of the bed, hiding from sight in mortification. Papyrus
just laughs, chin resting on his palm as Blue mutters to himself about slime
and laundry and how Papyrus is clearly an awful influence on everything.
Edge is behaving surprisingly well, this morning. Normally by now Papyrus would
have had to replace the gag to smother the usual litany of insults and
complaints, but Edge's jaw is visibly tense as he resolutely keeps himself
silent, his movements slow and cooperative as Blue works him over, wiping down
his bones and removing the crusty traces of unmentionable fluids. Of everyone
in the house, Edge seems most receptive to Blue, and Papyrus has been carefully
cultivating that appreciation as a facet of their training. Papyrus offers
discipline and punishment; Blue offers a reprieve.
“Blue,” Chara calls, having also been watching the proceedings with acute
interest. “I think it's time to redo the ribbons. They're looking a little
droopy.”
Edge tenses, looking displeased, but Blue seems delighted. “Ooh! Okay!”
Papyrus gives Chara a sceptical sideways look. Just because Edge is having an
unexpectedly good day doesn't mean it's a smart idea to push it,
but...whatever. It might be good to start testing the extent of the training,
to see how well it's taken hold.
Unfortunately, this means he can't indulge in a sleep-in. He reluctantly drags
himself out of bed, stretching out his spine with a few spectacular pops of the
magical ligaments, making both Blue and Edge glare at him in distaste. He
strolls over, watching in amusement as each step makes Edge shrink back further
against the wall, even though he attempts to glare defiantly up at his
tormentor. Papyrus squats down next to him, hooking a phalange under the other
skeleton's chin.
“You've been doing so well, Edge. You can behave a little longer, right?”
Edge scowls at him immediately, of course. He has every reason to hate Papyrus.
Strangely, his eyes seem to flick to where Red is covertly trying to peer
around the corner of the bed before he jerks his gaze back and offers a very
reticent nod. Papyrus is faintly impressed.
“All right,” Papyrus says agreeably, willing to work with this strange change
in attitude for as long as it holds. He glances quickly at Chara for approval
before moving to unfasten the chains.
He isn't sure whose bright idea it was to lace up the holes of Edge's sacrum
the first time, but Chara has been completely enamoured with the idea ever
since. It does create quite an alluring image, Papyrus can admit; that contrast
of delicate elegance and softness on Edge's strong, angular frame. The current
ribbon has come loose, the bow uneven and sagging at the base of his spine.
Papyrus plucks it free, one strand at a time, feeling Edge jerk and hiss
beneath him as the cord slides through the sensitive holes. Blue has pulled out
an assortment of ribbons and cords of different thicknesses and colours, and is
deliberating with Chara over which to use.
Eventually they come to an agreement. By that time, Papyrus has eased Edge to
the floor, face-down, his arms bound up behind his shoulder-blades. Even as
compliant as he's been this morning, Papyrus is taking no chances. Blue is
exceptionally fragile, and his safety is paramount. A short length of chain
keeps Edge's wrists crossed and secured to his spine, making any sort of
struggling difficult, but the scarred skeleton is clearly trying to keep
himself relaxed as Papyrus holds him down and Blue begins to thread a pair of
large, blunt needles with twin ribbons of deep purple and bright crimson as per
Chara's instruction.
This isn't the first time they've gone through this particular song and dance,
and it's not painful as long as Edge doesn't act up. The needles simply make it
easier to guide the ribbons through the holes, and Blue's hands are steady
enough that nothing will scrape unless his canvas suddenly moves, which
experience has taught Papyrus to expect. Edge despises the lacings, and
normally puts up a heated fight as if he might convince them all it's too much
trouble to go through with. Edge hasn't seemed to have clued in to the fact
that his resistance is the main reason Chara insists on it.
Even despite his effort at good behaviour, Papyrus can feel tension beginning
to thrum through Edge's bones. His claws are mindlessly clenching and
unclenching, his ribcage rising and falling unevenly which at least is a good
sign. When Edge is seriously considering lashing out, his breathing turns slow
and even – a soldier's habit that Papyrus has learned to watch for. The current
erratic pattern suggests he's fighting his own instincts to remain compliant.
“Shhhh,” Papyrus murmurs, resting one hand on the nape of Edge's neck and the
other over the lumbar vertebrae to keep him steady. Edge angles his skull to
glare distrustfully, but Papyrus blandly stares him down. Edge is getting
faster at learning to drop his gaze first, which Papyrus rewards with small,
soothing strokes to his spine.
“Ready,” Blue announces loudly, since Edge isn't in a position to be able to
see. That's probably for the best; Blue has a needle in each hand and looks
manically cheerful as he skips over and fearlessly straddles the back of Edge's
femurs. Edge flinches, and Papyrus's grip tightens incrementally; a reminder.
“Go for it,” Papyrus says, watching Edge's body language for any hint of
trouble as Blue lines up the needle and threads the first hole.
Edge hisses, but endures it stiffly. The constant lacing has left the holes
especially sensitive, and despite his best efforts, a shudder begins crawling
its way up Edge's spine as the satin of the ribbon slides through the bone with
a soft whisper of sound. Blue works skilfully, braiding the two colours
together in a new, more elaborate pattern than the previous attempt. He's
clearly been practising.
Edge's bones are starting to warm, and Papyrus grins, knowing very well that
this is one of the main reasons Edge hates the lacing. The actual act of tying
it is unavoidably stimulating. Blue's fingers move deftly across the ridges of
the sacrum, twisting and tightening as he binds the bone, and Edge's hips
buckle uncertainly. He squirms in Papyrus's hold, fists clenching more fiercely
at his back.
“Hey, Blue,” Papyrus says with a grin. “How about you go a little higher today?
Up to here.”
He points to the vertebrae midway between Edge's ribcage and his pelvis, and
Blue beams at him. “Okay, Papy!”
“I hate you,” Edge wheezes against the floor, the first words he's uttered all
morning. “So fucking much.”
“Language!” Blue scolds as Papyrus just laughs.
“I was starting to think you'd forgotten how to talk,” he muses, squeezing
Edge's spine, earning a soft grunt. “What's gotten into you today, huh?”
Edge doesn't respond, his expression closed off, but Papyrus can guess. There's
really only been one major change since yesterday. He glances over, but Red is
still hiding behind the bed. He seems to be folded in on himself, eyes shut,
hands over his ears, trying not to pay attention...probably trying to keep his
soul from coming out again. Poor guy. Apparently Papyrus isn't the only one who
feels sorry for him, if Edge is being unexpectedly docile.
“Well,” he says contemplatively. “If you keep up the good behaviour, you can
come with me when I show Red around this morning. A nice little walk to stretch
your legs, pet?”
Edge bares fangs at him, scowling at the nickname, but the offer must have been
appealing because he stays still enough for Blue to finish the lacing without
further difficulty.
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