AN: Well, here we are at last, the last of the regularly scheduled updates! Honestly, the whole point of this fic was just an exploration of what it would take for Sans to get into a serious relationship with a human in the middle of the woods in Alaska, then blow their mind with fantastic sex... and as of this chapter we've definitely done that! Don't be sad, though, I still have at least a few more actual chapters planned, as well as some POV swaps, so keep your eyes peeled!

Make sure to drop a review if you enjoyed, hearing what your favorite part was is always a delight, and really helps me keep writing!

Winter in Your Bones
Chapter Thirteen: Boy's got rhythm

"Hey, Sans?"

"'sup, sweetheart?" your boyfriend asks from where he is sprawled out on your bed, flat on his back as he browses on his phone. It's been two weeks since you went on your little outing with Papyrus, and you still don't think he's quite forgiven you for feeding his brother's idea about getting a pet moose for a steed.

You just find it funny.

Still, there is something that has been weighing on your mind for some time, and close as you've become with the monster, you think it's about time you finally asked. Before you do, though, you finish drying your face then turn off the bathroom light and move back towards the bed.

Sans is dressed in his familiar track pants and white t-shirt, though you haven't seen as much of them since you finally talked him around to dressing for the weather. He mostly wears them on the nights when he stays late, finding them far more comfortable for lounging on your sofa or, more and more frequently, on your bed.

Not that you've done anything interesting on your bed, as yet… though it's not for lack of trying on your part.

Well, okay, maybe you could try a little harder, but you're not looking to push Sans into anything he's not ready for, no matter how much you're aching for it. You are doing your very best to make it plain just how ready you are to take things to the next level, however. You're physically affectionate with him in bed, and he's certainly seemed quite happy to indulge you in that at least. Getting used to cuddling with a skeleton has taken a little practice, but it's a task you've tackled with aplomb, and you've got the hang of it now. It's all about finding just the right angle. The resulting make-out sessions have been fantastic, though none of them have gotten past second base, unfortunately.

Hell, you've even upped your pajama game. Historically speaking, you've always been an old, baggy t-shirt kinda girl with a pair of shorts or pj pants depending on the temperature, but you've invested in a few cuter things of late in hopes of turning the tide.

Like now, for instance. You're wearing a silk night gown that falls to just above mid-thigh, and definitely not the sort of thing you've ever owned in the past. Oh, you have lingerie, but you're not trying to be quite that obvious about it. This new gown doesn't even have any lace on it, though it is wonderfully soft against your skin, and is your favorite shade of blue. You're feeling a little more daring than usual, and despite the thinness of the fabric, you're not wearing a bra, a fact that is immediately obvious to anyone who might happen to so much as glance your way.

Sans does so, and you know you're not imagining the way his eyelights linger on you, trailing down your figure as you move towards him and settle on top of the blankets next to him. You congratulate yourself on not blushing the entire time, though your heart rate definitely spikes a bit when he doesn't move over to accomodate you like he normally would, meaning your arm and thigh press firmly against his until you roll over onto your side and prop your head up on your hand.

This shift in position brings you even closer, and you have to fight to keep the smug smile off your face when Sans' gaze is immediately caught by the swell of your cleavage as it strains a bit against the silk of your night gown. You manage (barely), and keep up the trend by not grinning at the faint blue blush that overtakes his face as his gaze darts back to his phone.

Still, fun as this all is, you really do have a question for him.

"That night we, uh-" you hesitate and grimace a little as you look for the appropriate words. Sans glances up at you, eyelights firmly on your face this time. "That night when we first really met," you decide on eventually, and your smile is a little bashful as he chuckles at your phrasing.

"you mean the night you admitted you'd been sleeping the whole time?"

You quirk a brow at him. "Yep. Same night you admitted you'd broken into my cabin and snuggled up to a random stranger."

He drops his phone onto the bed and holds a hand up in surrender. "rings a few bells," he muses and rolls over onto his side to face you, position mirroring yours, eyes half-lidded as he regards you thoughtfully. "what about it?"

Sans is very close now, and it would be so easy to lean in just a few inches to catch his mouth with yours for a kiss, but you refrain for the sake of satisfying your curiosity.

There'll be time for kissing later, after all.

"Right, that one," you agree with a wry smile. "When you were explaining why you'd broken in, you mentioned that the reason you were cold enough to break into a random cabin was that you were already cold from the ride in the back of the truck, and the walk after that did you in."

The shift in Sans' demeanor is subtle, but you know him well enough by now that he might as well have flinched.

Your smile fades into a frown of concern and you press the point by asking, "What did you mean by that?"

He turns his face from yours, but he's still looking at you sidelong as though hoping if he doesn't answer right away you'll drop the subject. You keep right on staring him down, however, and finally he gives in, realizing he's not likely to win in the face of your determination.

"i wasn't hiding out in your truck bed or anything," he says, eyelights no longer meeting yours.

You quirk a brow, unimpressed by his dissembling. "I know. There's no way you could have gotten away with that, not with how many groceries you buy," you muse with a snort. "I'm not blind."

A huff of amusement escapes him and he finally looks at you again.

"Have you been hitching?" you ask, back to concerned now. Even for a monster that sort of thing was dangerous. Maybe even especially for a monster. "Is that how you get to town on days we don't go together?"

"kinda," he admits, voice low as he picks absently at a stray thread on your blanket. You wait for him to continue, and eventually he does, "I've got a psuedo arrangement with a guy that lives out this way. If he sees me out on the road at the junction, he'll let me grab a ride into town in the back of his truck for fifty bucks. He doesn't come back in til late, though-"

"Which is why you're always coming by so late at night," you finish, eyes widening a little as you process this information. "Wait," you say, as something in particular in his tale triggers alarm bells. "The back of his truck? Are you still doing that now?!"

He's not looking at you again and that's confession enough.

"Oh my god, Sans!" you exclaim, horrified as you sit bolt upright on the bed and turn to face him head on. "You numskull! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is even when it's not below zero outside? No wonder you were frozen half to death when we first met!"

Your horror is in no way abated by the way a snort of laughter at your inadvertent joke on his part escapes Sans.

You scowl and shove his shoulder so he falls over onto his back. "I'm not kidding! And-" the real question at the heart of the situation occurs to you and you become downright furious as you demand, "Who the fuck is making you ride in the back of their truck in the middle of fucking winter?!"

Realizing that you're in no mood for his levity, Sans sits up and reaches out to you in an attempt to soothe you. "sweetheart, it's no big deal. i'm used to this kind of crap, you don't gotta get worked up over it-" he begins, and though you know he's trying to talk you down, his words only feed your anger on his behalf.

"No! This is bullshit!" you say and roll out of bed, feet hitting the floor with a thump that makes Lucy jump in her bed as you get up and start pacing, shoulders rigid and teeth grit. Your dog slinks under your desk, though you're far too distracted to notice. "Who is this guy? What's his name?" you demand as you round on Sans, who actually leans back a little at the picture of righteous indignation you paint.

"come on, sweetheart," he attempts to coax again, though he does not quite dare reach out to touch you this time, bristling as you are. You're a right terror when you're on the war path, though this is the angriest he's ever seen you. The fact that you've gotten so worked on on his behalf is something that touches his soul, though. A human being protective of him… it's novel, and it means a great deal more to him than he ever anticipated it might. The smile he levels at you in that moment is so soft and adoring that it actually wrong foots you and takes the edge off your fury. "what are you gonna do if I tell you? hunt him down and break his kneecaps?"

You squint at him, but your shoulders come down from around your ears and you find it hard to keep the fires of your anger stoked when he's smiling at you like that from the bed, head canted to one side as his eyelights watch your every move.

"Maybe," you mumble resentfully as you cross your arms over your chest with a huff, hip cocked, everything about your body language screaming your dissatisfaction.

"guy's got kids, darlin'" Sans tells you gently. You shoot him a look and he lifts both hands defensively before continuing, "i know that doesn't excuse it, but don't go taking out a family's breadwinner for my sake." You huff and shift to the other hip, just barely bringing yourself within your boyfriend's reach. He snags your arm and gently pulls it free of the other so his hand slides down its length to yours. "c'mere," he says, voice gentle but insistent as he gives you a tug.

You look at Sans sidelong, and though the way he's watching you threatens to send a shiver right up your back, you resist his pull and say, "Promise me you won't get a ride from him again?" The skeleton looks at you, expression unreadable now, and you press on, "Someone who's willing to make a person ride an hour and a half in the back of a truck in the middle of winter… Sans I don't know what else someone like that is capable of doing."

The genuine concern that knits your brow softens Sans' features and a small, lopsided smile tugs at his mouth. "alright," he says, then gives your hand another gentle tug.

You allow him to draw you back to the edge of the bed, but no further, before continuing, "And promise me you'll just tell me if you need to make a second trip into town? I'll even teach you to drive stick if you want."

He chuckles and tugs once more, "alright," he repeats, and you drop to your knees on the mattress before him.

"And promise you'll-" you begin, but Sans chooses that moment to surge up to his knees and catches your lips with his, silencing you with a kiss.

"hush now," he murmurs against your skin as the last of your resistance melts away and you allow him to pull you in against his chest. "you've made your point, sweetheart. i promise."

"But-" you start again, in a half hearted attempt to continue the conversation, though at this point, with Sans' lips gently working their way down the line of your throat, you're not entirely sure what else it was you wanted him to promise. His mouth finds the crux of your neck and shoulder and lingers there a moment as he takes a breath and presses his face into your hair.

Sans' hand sweeps up your arm and gently pushes aside the strap of your night gown, baring your shoulder to his attentions.

"but you talk too much," he huffs lightly, humor clear in the deep tones of his voice even as the warmth of his breath against your skin makes you shiver in his arms. "cold, sweetheart?" he asks.

"No," you answer truthfully, if breathlessly as you tilt your head to one side then press your lips to his temple and your arms slip around his shoulders.

"good," he says, and suddenly you're falling as he twists so you fall back onto the mattress, pinned under the length of his body. "i'd hate for you to catch a chill," he adds, voice teasing but rough in your ear as he slips a hand along your thigh, then keeps right on going up to your waist, carrying the hem of your night gown with it.

"You're the one who always has feet like icicles," you point out distractedly, then gasp as Sans' tongue flicks out to trace the line of your collar bone. He takes his time about it, and the electric buzz of his magic, familiar now, though no less potent, makes your eyes flutter shut blissfully. Without thinking, you spread your legs and allow him to settle more comfortably between your thighs. Normally this move would give Sans pause, but now he only chuckles.

"guilty as charged," he mumbles against your skin, and you delight in the way his breath shudders behind his ribs when you allow your hands to shift so your fingers trace the line of his spine. Sans lifts his head and looks at you, eyelights huge and diffuse in their sockets as he regards you. You quirk a brow in question at him and a smile tugs at one side of his mouth as he allows his hand to drift up and over the silk of your nightgown, tracing the line of your ribs and then back down to your hip. "sweetheart-" he begins after a moment, only to pause, seeming at a loss for words.

"You talk too much," you tell him with a coy smile, turning his own words back on him as you lean up and kiss him, using your arms around his shoulders to drag him in flush against you. He smiles against your lips and needs little coaxing on your part to respond in kind.

"probably," he admits and slips one arm behind your neck and uses the other to take a firm hold of your backside, making you hum in appreciation and roll your hips enticingly against him. "old habits die hard, i guess," he gasps when you both briefly come up for air, only to dive right back in for more.

You let him into your mouth readily, tilting your head back to allow him deeper as he devours you with an unexpected passion that leaves you breathless. You rake your fingers across his shoulder blades and then down his ribs until you land on his hips. You linger there a moment until you break for air again, then grab his shirt by the hem and drag it up and over his head. Sans barely seems to notice beyond shifting his grip on you so he can shed the piece of fabric and cast it impatiently aside.

He's grinding against you now, and you can feel that tension in his pants rubbing against your entrance in a maddening fashion that is new in your relationship. You've done plenty of fooling around by this point, but Sans has always stopped short of outright torturing you until now. You gasp his name breathlessly and grab him by the crest of his hips to pull him in harder against you, forcing an agonized groan from your boyfriend.

Desperate for more contact, Sans shoves your nightgown up and over your breasts so it pools just under your arms, making you whimper and moan at the sudden rush of cool air across your flush skin. The monster shifts so his hips keep contact with yours, but now latches onto your left breast with his mouth, and gently palms the right. The sweet, wet hiss of his magic over the already firm bud of your nipple makes you cry out and clutch desperately at him. His teeth tease your flesh and your hips buck against his as one of your hands goes up over his right to encourage him to use more pressure. He's quick on the uptake, and before long you're completely lost in his touch, breathless and dizzy by the time he lifts his head to kiss you again.

Sans must have gotten your nightgown off you at some point, because it's nowhere to be found when you break from his mouth and trail your own tongue down the vertebrae of his neck. Your underwear are still firmly in place, though in danger of soaking clean through at this rate, but your boyfriend certainly doesn't seem to care about getting his track pants damp. You hum, pleased when your carefully questing fingers dip beneath the hem of said pants to find that Sans has forgone boxers tonight. Feeling brave, you tug them down just a few inches to give the monster a chance to object.

He doesn't, but bends to kiss you again instead, and you distract him with your lips even as you slip a hand into the back of his pants and follow his vertebrae down to his sacrum. You trace it lightly with your fingertips, and are gratified when Sans immediately stills against you, a gentle 'ah' of surprise escaping him. You look up at him from under your lashes to gauge his reaction and find him biting down hard on his bottom lip, breath coming quick and shallow. Your hand slips further down yet until you find his coccyx and run your fingers, gentle yet firm, over it. The motion drags an outright moan from Sans, and you smile at his reaction, pleased that the area is apparently just as sensitive as you've always suspected it would be. What's more, his cock twitches with every stroke.

Your name escapes him, rough, ragged, and stammering, and suddenly he's kissing you again. It's rough and it's hungry, and you're completely taken off guard by the ferocity of it as he forces you back into the mattress and thrusts mercilessly against you.

"Sans," you gasp when he diverts his attention to your neck again, and latches on to the muscle there with his teeth. It hurts, but damn if it doesn't feel fucking amazing at the same time, and rather than beg him to stop, you hold on for dear life as he drags you in hard against him until it's hard to tell where one of you starts and the other ends. The skeleton's arms wrap tight around you, bringing your chest flush against his so your breasts are pressed to the hard ridges of his ribs. It should be uncomfortable, but as your hips rock in time with his, you can't imagine a better place in all the world to be than on your bed with Sans on top of you, breath mingling and sweat beginning to bead on your skin as the temperature in your small cabin rises.

You feel his tongue slide up the column of your throat again, and you actually whimper when he murmurs, "god you taste good," directly by your ear. Sans' grip on you loosens, and you're about to complain for the loss of contact until you realize his hands have drifted to your hips and are tracing the hem of your underwear. He murmurs your name again, and you force yourself to focus on his face you can meet his eyes.

Sans' face is flushed blue, and you're a little surprised to realize that he's sweating too; fine, pale blue beads of magic can be spotted here and there on him. You watch, entranced, as one trickles down the line of his jaw and drips off to land with a soft fizzle of magic on the bare skin of your chest.

"do you really-" he begins, then stops, the heat of the moment slowly seeping out of him as he actually stops and thinks about what he's so close to finally doing. He's thinking too much, you know it.

"Sans," you say, voice soft but passionate as you draw him close into you once more. Your lips brush his cheek and you can't help but run your tongue along his jaw, relishing the taste of the raw magic beading there. "Sans, I want you," you tell him, and you know you sound utterly desperate, but there in that moment, you think that's what he needs to hear. He needs the truth, and the truth is that you're aching for him something fierce, and whatever backwards idea you know he's got in his head about not being what you want is completely wrong. "I've wanted you since before I realized you weren't a figment of my dreams," you admit with a shy, though coy smile as you pull back a little to look at him again.

The monster's eye sockets widen fractionally and you feel your blush intensify as he stares down at you. "i..." a rough laugh that vibrates through your frame and makes your toes curl escapes him and he tears his gaze from yours for a moment before glancing back at you sidelong. "me too," he admits quietly, then leans in to kiss you again.

It starts sweet, but it doesn't take much for the both of you to pick up that increasingly familiar rhythm again until you're moving in unison, breathless and desperate. Things reach a fever pitch and all sign of doubt are gone as he reaches down and not so gently pulls your underwear down over your hips. You're more than happy to lift so he can yank them off and cast them aside before doing the same for his pants.

Curious as you've been about things, you look down between you as he situates himself between your thighs once more. You can't help but blink when you see that Sans' cock is the same shade of blue as his tongue. This doesn't come as a complete surprise as you had managed to get him to admit as much one night when you'd both had a little more to drink than normal. Knowing it and seeing it are two totally different things, though. Your tongue wets your lips as you regard your boyfriend's member, and you jump a little when he clears his throat.

You look at him and find Sans watching you with a wry smile and one cocked brow. You know you're not imagining the awkwardness in the tension of his shoulders, though. Eager to reassure him, you lean up to kiss him again, and feel your boyfriend relax a little as you do, though that goes right out the window again when you slip your hand down between the two of you and run your fingers along his length. He gasps into your mouth, and you hum pleasurably at the now familiar thrum of magic that meets your fingertips when you touch him, and it only intensifies when you take a hold of his cock at the base and give it a few slow, practiced strokes.

Much like Sans' tongue, his dick isn't exactly warm in the way a human man's would have been, but the electric hum of magic under your palm more than makes up for that. Overall, it's smoother than what you're used to thanks to a lack of veins, but you're rather intrigued by the ridges that run down its length from tip to base along the bottom.

Your boyfriend breaks the kiss and fights to catch his breath as he thrusts helplessly against your hand, and you find yourself smiling at his utter lack of control in that moment. Wanting to put it to good use, you carefully guide him towards your entrance and relish the way he hisses when the tip of his cock slips along your wet folds. You keep him from pushing past right away, instead allowing his full length to slide along your opening, getting him just as slick as you are.

Sans swears, soft but vehement and shakes his head as he gasps, "s-sweetheart, i can't."

You stop immediately and look up at him, wide eyed. "Are you-" you begin, worried you've crossed a line he wasn't ready for after all.

Before you can even finish the question, though, Sans knocks aside your hand and grabs your hips. "i can't play anymore. i need you. fuck, i just-... i-i need-" and then he's sliding into the soft, velvet heat of you with one slow, deliberate thrust and you're crying out, clinging helplessly to him as you ride that sweet rush of magic.

The sensation is so much more visceral than when he kisses you, and you feel your head go numb as your thoughts spin away like so much snow before a gale. He's leaning over you, brow pressed into the crook of your neck as you fling your arms around his shoulders and hold on tight when he begins to thrust, erratic in his desperation for a few moments until he finds that rhythm again. Your eyes flutter shut and you focus on matching him thrust for thrust, though you can barely even manage that much in the face of the pleasure that rushes over you in waves with every move he makes.

It's like nothing you've ever experienced before, and the stimulation not only from his magic as he slides in and out of you, but those ridges along the underside of Sans' cock brings you right to the brink of orgasm faster than anything you've ever done before. You tighten convulsively around him and his grip on your hips tightens as, with one final thrust, the monster pushes you over the edge, making you gasp raggedly, your back arching as you find your sweet release.

Your breathing is rough and uneven as your eyes finally open again to find him watching you with heavily lidded eyes. The look makes you flush, embarrassed at how easy it had been for him to finish you off when he was still clearly far from done himself if the feel of him still inside you is anything to go by. Sans doesn't say anything for a moment, but as an aftershock of your orgasm makes your walls flutter around his cock he starts to move again, slow and gentle this time, making you moan.

He leans in and kisses you with a tenderness that would have left you breathless if the exertion hadn't already taken care of that, then slips his cheekbone lightly along yours to murmur in your ear, "you're beautiful..."

The warm, rolling tones of his voice make your toes curl, and you might have responded if he hadn't timed his next thrust in perfect unison with another trembling aftershock, making you gasp, then turn your head to bury his face in his neck.

"S-Sans," you mumble helplessly against his collarbone as he shifts his position so he's still got one arm around you, but the other has gone up to grasp the headboard. His pace is slowly but surely picking up again, and when you let your head drop back onto the pillow again, you have to bite down on your lower lip to muffle a whimper as you realize your boyfriend has expertly coaxed your body through its aftershocks and right back around to build into another orgasm. You can already feel it rising in you, making your hands fist in the blankets as Sans leans over you, back arched as he uses his grip on the headboard for leverage.

"a little more, sweetheart," he murmurs breathlessly, "just a little more."

You look up at him again, and you can tell from the way he's biting fiercely at his lower lip that he's on the edge as well, though his eyes are closed now, as if he is doing his utmost to concentrate. Sans shifts his angle some and picks up his tempo, making you moan and slip your arms up around his neck, pulling him in close as you spread your legs wider, letting him push in deeper yet. The head of his cock hits your sweetspot and you cry out and tighten around him as hard as you can, as if to hold him there, and the sensation is more than the monster can take.

A soft, almost agonized cry escapes Sans and after a few final, hurried thrusts, you feel him shift position to pull out. Before he can, however, you hook your legs up and over his hips, then drag him in to the hilt, making his eyes fly open in surprise to look at you as you smile up at him, shy and a little embarrassed, but completely unashamed of your actions. Taking this not just as permission, but a command, Sans grasps you by the hips once more and doubles down, grinding hard into the blissful, agonizing heat of you as he reaches his climax and, with a final groan, pours himself into you.

The sensation of that heat rushing through you sends you over the edge with a cry of your own, and it's everything you can do to cling to Sans' shoulders, your thighs locked tight around his hips as you thrust against him to coax every last ounce of magic from him until you feel ready to come apart at the seams. The heat of it is incredible, the sensation indescribable as you sag, exhausted, and trembling back against the mattress.

"Holy hell," you mumble as you reach a hand up and brush a few sweat damp strands of hair from your face while Sans collapses onto one elbow over you, then drops his head to rest on your shoulder, weakly humming his agreement.

The skeleton presses a few lazy kisses to your neck before his strength seems to give out and he topples sideways off of you to sprawl beside you on the mattress. You're both quiet for a moment, and then you roll over onto your side and land a kiss on Sans' cheek.

A soft huff of laughter escapes him, and he rolls over so he can press a kiss to your forehead in turn, making you smile. After a moment, you ask, "You were gonna pull out there at the end; why? You can't get me pregnant."

And it was true. It was a well known fact that these days that monsters of any type were incapable of breeding with humans. Sans quirks a brow at you and his mouth twists into a wry sort of smile. "i know. seemed rude to assume you didn't mind, though, and i wasn't about to interrupt the moment by asking," he muses.

You nod, appreciating the thought behind it, then smile and say, "I don't mind."

Sans laughs and pulls you in flush against his chest then twines his legs through yours. "i gathered as much," he remarks lightly and your smile turns into a grin as you snuggle in against him happily.

A thought occurs to you and you can't help but snicker a little and say, "So, since we finally had sex… does that mean I just got boned?"

Your boyfriend laughs, low and delighted in his chest and you join in. "more like we phalange-ly had sex."

"Tibia honest," you said, "I was starting to think we never would."

Sans' amusement softens into something gentler as he regards you. "sorry," he says, and you suddenly regret your joke.

"Don't be," you reply quickly, no longer teasing as you reach up and brush your fingers along his jawline. "I was willing to wait. I know not everyone likes to… jump into that sort of thing."

Your boyfriend's smile returns and he catches your hand with his and presses a kiss to your fingertips. "worth the wait at least, i hope," he muses slyly, knowing full well that he'd just blown your mind with the most amazing sex of your life.

Still, you can't let his ego too out of control...

"Could use some vanilla ice cream," you inform him with a smirk.

Your answer startles a laugh out of Sans, and the wicked grin that overcomes his face then makes you swallow hard as he rolls so he's on top of you again, pinning you to the mattress before he replies, "challenge accepted, sweetheart."

Oh dear.

AN: Thanks so much again for coming along with me on this fluffy journey! As mentioned up top, I still have some more chapters planned, they just won't be posted regularly anymore, but as I finish them. Make sure to drop a review with what you thought, and what your favorite part was! I love hearing that stuff!