[Mettaton smirks with an accompanying chuckle at Emet-Selch's response to his red-tinged suit. Intrinsically, it felt as though they did plan it that way, at least that far, though the haunts of Mettaton's memory suggested more about the wedding they had wasn't... ideal. He couldn't figure out why. The details that surrounded himself and his spouse are far too hazy to figure out why, and Mettaton hasn't spared as much thought to his own ideal wedding to discern that this event wasn't to his standard.
But that. That detail, the bloom of red on white—that had been intentional. Had they done it before a crowd? He finds himself pondering this, fantasizing about their shock, the sensationalism of it, even while he's still trying to grasp for more personal details of... everything.
Such as the actual wedding. At the sight of bared skin, bruised, which felt familiar to Mettaton. He blinks at Emet-Selch widely again in shock, his smile screwing up as he recalls that they must have been terribly involved, involved in a deeply twined and physical sense. There was... possessiveness coursing through his body, and something so lively that he finds his leg twitching.
There were a lot of sensations beyond him, more than just taste, he's figuring. It leaves him with a sense of... loss, for something he'd never had.
Still, their biting habits seemed to do well enough if they enjoyed it at the altar. It didn't daunt them, not for the reason of that one incident... And maybe they'd done better at making it deliberate, not an answer to every moment of intensity. Yes, that felt like the issue at hand: they had a lot of passion and intensity between them, and sometimes, a release of that pressure felt the only option, as Mettaton resorted to biting and Emet-Selch resorted to bleeding. But in some cases, it seemed to get out of hand.
The neck beneath his fingertips had endured a lot of bites, a lot of... kisses, heated and passionate, Mettaton thought, as he thumbs over his throat and settles their fingers into a bind. So much so that he smiles, gazing squarely into Emet-Selch's eyes.]
I must have spent a lot of time at your throat. It's one of those memories... The kind that feels so infinite that it blurs together.
[And somehow, he manages to put the feeling into words. And somehow some more, he felt Emet-Selch might understand what he means by that.
They were intimate, and the hand on Emet-Selch's thigh is the conscious echo of that realization. His response is pleasant; the idol could almost taste how much he affected this man, and it was a rush to experience. But... not as intense as he felt it was. More intense than anything he recalls, but it was... so much more?
The mention of him being a Puca is what has his gaze skirting to the treetops in thought, lips parting. Being a Puca... granted him quite a bit, in the ways of traits. He nods.]
Yes... I think it must have. For some reason. It seems to me that being a Puca... granted me quite a bit of sensation that I can hardly fathom. [Taste was called to the forefront... but even his touch felt enhanced in these memories. (Unless that was just the pleasure of having someone this close to him. Mettaton is willing to entertain that notion.)] You and I...
[Flipping through a few ways to deliver this message, the robot considers carefully. He could be as blunt and cool about is as he could, a delivery like it didn't affect him now, or that he wasn't interested. But fronting for dramatic effect didn't feel right. If anything, the idea that this man had elicited so much drive in him inspires, and he didn't want to express anything other than his true feelings on the matter. (That this was how he and Emet-Selch interacted—that feeling also clicks, though not in any conscious way.)
So his smile goes from woozy and lost in thought to broad, heated, dark lashes curtaining his gaze that bit more. He even scoots a touch closer to Emet-Selch, keeping his hands right where they are, stroking over neck and thigh rhythmically.]
We were passionate, involved lovers, weren't we? Ohh my.
[And though neither of them could remember much in the ways of entire events, he felt confident that his former-Bondmate would be able to remember plenty about that. Even if the robot couldn't figure out just how they reached to such heights, or even what that kaleidoscopic experience was like... he knew it happened.]
no subject
But that. That detail, the bloom of red on white—that had been intentional. Had they done it before a crowd? He finds himself pondering this, fantasizing about their shock, the sensationalism of it, even while he's still trying to grasp for more personal details of... everything.
Such as the actual wedding. At the sight of bared skin, bruised, which felt familiar to Mettaton. He blinks at Emet-Selch widely again in shock, his smile screwing up as he recalls that they must have been terribly involved, involved in a deeply twined and physical sense. There was... possessiveness coursing through his body, and something so lively that he finds his leg twitching.
There were a lot of sensations beyond him, more than just taste, he's figuring. It leaves him with a sense of... loss, for something he'd never had.
Still, their biting habits seemed to do well enough if they enjoyed it at the altar. It didn't daunt them, not for the reason of that one incident... And maybe they'd done better at making it deliberate, not an answer to every moment of intensity. Yes, that felt like the issue at hand: they had a lot of passion and intensity between them, and sometimes, a release of that pressure felt the only option, as Mettaton resorted to biting and Emet-Selch resorted to bleeding. But in some cases, it seemed to get out of hand.
The neck beneath his fingertips had endured a lot of bites, a lot of... kisses, heated and passionate, Mettaton thought, as he thumbs over his throat and settles their fingers into a bind. So much so that he smiles, gazing squarely into Emet-Selch's eyes.]
I must have spent a lot of time at your throat. It's one of those memories... The kind that feels so infinite that it blurs together.
[And somehow, he manages to put the feeling into words. And somehow some more, he felt Emet-Selch might understand what he means by that.
They were intimate, and the hand on Emet-Selch's thigh is the conscious echo of that realization. His response is pleasant; the idol could almost taste how much he affected this man, and it was a rush to experience. But... not as intense as he felt it was. More intense than anything he recalls, but it was... so much more?
The mention of him being a Puca is what has his gaze skirting to the treetops in thought, lips parting. Being a Puca... granted him quite a bit, in the ways of traits. He nods.]
Yes... I think it must have. For some reason. It seems to me that being a Puca... granted me quite a bit of sensation that I can hardly fathom. [Taste was called to the forefront... but even his touch felt enhanced in these memories. (Unless that was just the pleasure of having someone this close to him. Mettaton is willing to entertain that notion.)] You and I...
[Flipping through a few ways to deliver this message, the robot considers carefully. He could be as blunt and cool about is as he could, a delivery like it didn't affect him now, or that he wasn't interested. But fronting for dramatic effect didn't feel right. If anything, the idea that this man had elicited so much drive in him inspires, and he didn't want to express anything other than his true feelings on the matter. (That this was how he and Emet-Selch interacted—that feeling also clicks, though not in any conscious way.)
So his smile goes from woozy and lost in thought to broad, heated, dark lashes curtaining his gaze that bit more. He even scoots a touch closer to Emet-Selch, keeping his hands right where they are, stroking over neck and thigh rhythmically.]
We were passionate, involved lovers, weren't we? Ohh my.
[And though neither of them could remember much in the ways of entire events, he felt confident that his former-Bondmate would be able to remember plenty about that. Even if the robot couldn't figure out just how they reached to such heights, or even what that kaleidoscopic experience was like... he knew it happened.]