[They shifted closer, they touched; they pressed nearer, and they maintained their gazes, contemplating the pleasure they'd found in each other's company that resonated in their souls, even when the substance of it remained unknown. But their interest in each other is undeniable, and neither of them were disguising it. Even though they hadn't been looking for romance, given each of their own circumstances, romance sat right beside them in the form of a potential suitor, someone who they'd been undeniably matched with in another life, another place.
And while Mettaton had never quite fancied himself finding so committed a lover, to find that he did and that it was a personality like Emet-Selch... It worked. It clicked, and he felt confident that he wasn't being mislead by the preexisting relationship they'd had. Though he still knew very little about Emet-Selch, his personality was such a stark contrast that it felt impossible to be anything but more of himself, enhanced by the dynamic he shared. And yet...
How similar he felt to himself. It was remarkable, how a man could feel so different yet similar, without even knowing him. He didn't know how or why, but it was a hunch, of sorts.
He nods with a slight chuckle, as lightning crawls over his mechanical body like a light show, drawn to the firmer touch of Emet-Selch's fingers against his chest. It felt right for Emet-Selch's hand to give to his insistent push, for his palm to press over his chest because Mettaton wanted it. The haunts of being accustomed to Emet-Selch yielding to him persists, and naturally, Emet-Selch's ever the one to adjust.
(Though this is a minor inconvenience, Mettaton thinks, this Kizuna-based lightning. So he snorts.)]
And would you really have me "improve" the enticement I feel, Hades-darling? [He quirks his brow.] You really want to shoot me down. How mean.
[Intuitively, that's why he's sparking like this, he's sure. And just as intuitive, he felt sure that Emet-Selch was able to do more than tolerate it.
Though he's aware suddenly that Emet-Selch is not the sort to have patience to care for much if he didn't have to. For himself, though, he'd been given a lot of Emet-Selch's patience and his heart in their life together. Still, he'd seen the result of the moments where he grew bored, impatient, or otherwise wanted to leave: the Ascian could simply... disappear. How convenient for him, he thought.
Emet-Selch's thumb runs over his chest, and Mettaton's ease increases, offering himself to be touched. It felt right to be caressed like this, and the sensation of it was pleasant, to be pet by someone who wasn't himself. He hums low, continuing to quirk his brow.]
And what would worse look like to you? A real shock? I'm not damaged, darling. And I'm not interested in attacking you, either. How barbaric do you think I am?
[He mirrors Emet-Selch's stroke over his chest by using his thumb against his hand, wandering the unfamiliar-yet-familiar structure and softness of the smaller man's hand with fingers void of nails or claws.]
no subject
And while Mettaton had never quite fancied himself finding so committed a lover, to find that he did and that it was a personality like Emet-Selch... It worked. It clicked, and he felt confident that he wasn't being mislead by the preexisting relationship they'd had. Though he still knew very little about Emet-Selch, his personality was such a stark contrast that it felt impossible to be anything but more of himself, enhanced by the dynamic he shared. And yet...
How similar he felt to himself. It was remarkable, how a man could feel so different yet similar, without even knowing him. He didn't know how or why, but it was a hunch, of sorts.
He nods with a slight chuckle, as lightning crawls over his mechanical body like a light show, drawn to the firmer touch of Emet-Selch's fingers against his chest. It felt right for Emet-Selch's hand to give to his insistent push, for his palm to press over his chest because Mettaton wanted it. The haunts of being accustomed to Emet-Selch yielding to him persists, and naturally, Emet-Selch's ever the one to adjust.
(Though this is a minor inconvenience, Mettaton thinks, this Kizuna-based lightning. So he snorts.)]
And would you really have me "improve" the enticement I feel, Hades-darling? [He quirks his brow.] You really want to shoot me down. How mean.
[Intuitively, that's why he's sparking like this, he's sure. And just as intuitive, he felt sure that Emet-Selch was able to do more than tolerate it.
Though he's aware suddenly that Emet-Selch is not the sort to have patience to care for much if he didn't have to. For himself, though, he'd been given a lot of Emet-Selch's patience and his heart in their life together. Still, he'd seen the result of the moments where he grew bored, impatient, or otherwise wanted to leave: the Ascian could simply... disappear. How convenient for him, he thought.
Emet-Selch's thumb runs over his chest, and Mettaton's ease increases, offering himself to be touched. It felt right to be caressed like this, and the sensation of it was pleasant, to be pet by someone who wasn't himself. He hums low, continuing to quirk his brow.]
And what would worse look like to you? A real shock? I'm not damaged, darling. And I'm not interested in attacking you, either. How barbaric do you think I am?
[He mirrors Emet-Selch's stroke over his chest by using his thumb against his hand, wandering the unfamiliar-yet-familiar structure and softness of the smaller man's hand with fingers void of nails or claws.]