[Conflicted, over his show of affection? That's all he could make out of this disagreement he feels. Mettaton meets his gaze sharply, fleetingly, and there's a sudden spike in the way he feels about the other man that can't go unknown. Meeting his gaze then ignites in him all of the fondness, adoration, and care he harbors for Emet-Selch, deeply, disturbingly. He's not confused about his own feelings in the slightest, and couldn't be made to doubt his own heart.
Uncomfortable as it might make the Ascian, he couldn't stop him, nor control him. He feels not burdened by this, but light, a pleasant and electrifying energy.
But there are other matters he cares to tend to than his heart, and just as quickly, the robot changes gears and averts his hard stare for long enough to blink. Pressed under him and hardly able to conjure the words, Mettaton hums, elated to have Emet-Selch right where he wants him. The look in his eye is satisfied and deeply wanting, his hands squeezing the other man's shoulders once as he runs them down his biceps then slides them against his sides. There's a spike in pleasure at the mere sight and sensation of it, the beginnings of an automatic reflex. He can feel him shudder beneath him, and he wishes he could have had his throat close to his lips when he made that noise.
The Puca leans down to press a short kiss against his lips, and replies against him in kind.]
No. But... you'll certainly. [Words. He can force his tone to be even, but when his mind blanks out, it's troublesome. Another quick kiss before he continues.] Certainly get what I... promise. And so will I. Don't doubt, darling.
[Once more, he can feel how tense his lower body is at the notion of Emet-Selch's erection so close. He recalls the odd sensation he had before of feeling like he'd be missing something upon being separated from him the last time they got so intimate, and that much feels true all over again. Experimentally, Mettaton wraps his thighs loosely about his erection, just enough so Emet-Selch's made to feel him but with no exact pressure.
It's a good thing Mettaton's finished talking already, because it's all he can do to swallow down a noise as he lets his head hang toward the Ascian's shoulder at the impact the sensation has on him. Naturally, for such a feeling to rattle him on a mindful level, his body responds in kind: he can't help it when his thighs tense, enclose him with more pressure despite his wishes, and he presses his face into his neck to stifle a moan again. Biting into his neck helps somewhat, and Mettaton hisses.]
no subject
Uncomfortable as it might make the Ascian, he couldn't stop him, nor control him. He feels not burdened by this, but light, a pleasant and electrifying energy.
But there are other matters he cares to tend to than his heart, and just as quickly, the robot changes gears and averts his hard stare for long enough to blink. Pressed under him and hardly able to conjure the words, Mettaton hums, elated to have Emet-Selch right where he wants him. The look in his eye is satisfied and deeply wanting, his hands squeezing the other man's shoulders once as he runs them down his biceps then slides them against his sides. There's a spike in pleasure at the mere sight and sensation of it, the beginnings of an automatic reflex. He can feel him shudder beneath him, and he wishes he could have had his throat close to his lips when he made that noise.
The Puca leans down to press a short kiss against his lips, and replies against him in kind.]
No. But... you'll certainly. [Words. He can force his tone to be even, but when his mind blanks out, it's troublesome. Another quick kiss before he continues.] Certainly get what I... promise. And so will I. Don't doubt, darling.
[Once more, he can feel how tense his lower body is at the notion of Emet-Selch's erection so close. He recalls the odd sensation he had before of feeling like he'd be missing something upon being separated from him the last time they got so intimate, and that much feels true all over again. Experimentally, Mettaton wraps his thighs loosely about his erection, just enough so Emet-Selch's made to feel him but with no exact pressure.
It's a good thing Mettaton's finished talking already, because it's all he can do to swallow down a noise as he lets his head hang toward the Ascian's shoulder at the impact the sensation has on him. Naturally, for such a feeling to rattle him on a mindful level, his body responds in kind: he can't help it when his thighs tense, enclose him with more pressure despite his wishes, and he presses his face into his neck to stifle a moan again. Biting into his neck helps somewhat, and Mettaton hisses.]