[Being practically dragged down with him is wholly expected and entirely not, and Mettaton's brow quirks in time with the corner of his smile. ...And he's going to make it work, too.
Instead of sitting by his side, the Puca slides a knee at either side of Emet-Selch's hips, at first resulting in Emet-Selch being even with his torso. But he bends at the waist and curves his back, stroking his hands down Emet-Selch's hair and settling them on either side of his neck with a gentle grip. He brings their faces close, his long ears leaning forward in interest for his Bondmate, who he feels so taken by, so much more than he ever thought possible. It's inspiring: it enhances his every sense, the sheer feeling alone, as if developing them for real wasn't enough. He can feel clearer than ever the depth of Emet-Selch's feelings as though he's above their surface, all too aware of how his Bonded's conflicted emotions ran heavy.
For now, at least, he can tell where he ends and Emet-Selch begins. Mettaton himself feels alive, electric, a sort of restless energy akin to butterflies, and... acknowledged. Recognized, beyond just his desires. But on that note, to take everything from his Bonded... What would that leave behind? He wants to find out, but more than that, he wants, pure and simple.
When might they start feeling each other? That's been a trend, hasn't it? It turns out that Bonds either develop faster than Mettaton anticipated, or theirs was a peculiar connection. And how severe would it develop? It's exciting enough to make him shiver, while being equally dreadful.
The edge of Emet-Selch's voice causes him to lose his words, and he closes his eye in a breathless sigh.]
Demanding, are we...? You'll be pleased to know. I don't settle for second best... and I don't leave things half-finished.
[His hands on either side of his neck, Mettaton eagerly steals him up in a kiss, never anything but the full extent of his desire. His fingers press into the back of Emet-Selch's neck, his libidinous nature stoked so quickly that it's enough to make him feel like the past minutes were spent in aching tension, as though he's wanted him all along. His mind starts conjuring up the ways he wants Emet-Selch, both possible and impossible — impossible always being the ways he can't take him for himself.
Deeply frustrating, but he'll put it all aside to focus on this. Right now, as he pushes his tongue between lips, appreciating their softness and his Bonded's warmth, though he's perhaps warmer yet. It's hard to beat out a machine with temperatures that beat out feverish.]
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Instead of sitting by his side, the Puca slides a knee at either side of Emet-Selch's hips, at first resulting in Emet-Selch being even with his torso. But he bends at the waist and curves his back, stroking his hands down Emet-Selch's hair and settling them on either side of his neck with a gentle grip. He brings their faces close, his long ears leaning forward in interest for his Bondmate, who he feels so taken by, so much more than he ever thought possible. It's inspiring: it enhances his every sense, the sheer feeling alone, as if developing them for real wasn't enough. He can feel clearer than ever the depth of Emet-Selch's feelings as though he's above their surface, all too aware of how his Bonded's conflicted emotions ran heavy.
For now, at least, he can tell where he ends and Emet-Selch begins. Mettaton himself feels alive, electric, a sort of restless energy akin to butterflies, and... acknowledged. Recognized, beyond just his desires. But on that note, to take everything from his Bonded... What would that leave behind? He wants to find out, but more than that, he wants, pure and simple.
When might they start feeling each other? That's been a trend, hasn't it? It turns out that Bonds either develop faster than Mettaton anticipated, or theirs was a peculiar connection. And how severe would it develop? It's exciting enough to make him shiver, while being equally dreadful.
The edge of Emet-Selch's voice causes him to lose his words, and he closes his eye in a breathless sigh.]
Demanding, are we...? You'll be pleased to know. I don't settle for second best... and I don't leave things half-finished.
[His hands on either side of his neck, Mettaton eagerly steals him up in a kiss, never anything but the full extent of his desire. His fingers press into the back of Emet-Selch's neck, his libidinous nature stoked so quickly that it's enough to make him feel like the past minutes were spent in aching tension, as though he's wanted him all along. His mind starts conjuring up the ways he wants Emet-Selch, both possible and impossible — impossible always being the ways he can't take him for himself.
Deeply frustrating, but he'll put it all aside to focus on this. Right now, as he pushes his tongue between lips, appreciating their softness and his Bonded's warmth, though he's perhaps warmer yet. It's hard to beat out a machine with temperatures that beat out feverish.]