[Satisfied, not just for the sake of fulfilling a promise, his ears press back down, and one his his hands drifts up to run through his hair — a natural place for it to land, given how he holds him. He smiles into his hair.]
As always. I live to please.
[A moment. Such light kisses coming from Emet-Selch feel unusually pleasant, enough to make him shiver, gestures he could see himself getting lost in. It's only fitting that he'd make a remark like that.]
And, given that... I could always try, in vain. However. If it were possible, you might be satisfied enough to stop. I wouldn't like that.
[An insatiable, bottomless desire is nothing short of what he likes to hear. He feels that all good things run on this: in performance, the demand exists because there's not enough of him, and in intimacy, demand exists for the same reason. Mettaton finds the thrill of being in Emet-Selch's intimate company to satisfy him similarly, but in such different a way where he can have a demand in return. He doesn't have much of that with people, elsewhere. It only goes to show him what he'd spent his years without, in neglecting most all close contact.
So he hums, relaxing, though not to loosen his grip too significantly. It doesn't surprise him too much that he'd come to love somebody so different from himself, given the chemistry he feels from each encounter with the Ascian. Complicated enough are his views that... unfortunately, he saw reason in it, and that's a more dreadful aspect.
Something he could deal with later; he's optimistic. The idol doesn't want to think about that less-than-pleasant concept right now, preferring to think upon the present moment. The closer they grow, the more he gets something of a hint into Emet-Selch's mood, and it feels like something easy enough to break with a gentle touch. Something bred out of affection, likely, and Mettaton's all the more willing to dole out more of it for that, feeling as amorous as he does. Mettaton kisses him atop his head, his fingers rubbing through locks of hair in slow passes. Feeling things is good, especially when it's something unusual and jarring, he thinks.
...Emet-Selch's earlier request to temper him in Zodiark's place, should things work out in that way, takes on a new shade of delight for the Puca, who would relish taking him for himself. It would be blind and unbending, sure... But he can fantasize. That relaxed grip turns more intense, and he holds him closer to his body.]
no subject
As always. I live to please.
[A moment. Such light kisses coming from Emet-Selch feel unusually pleasant, enough to make him shiver, gestures he could see himself getting lost in. It's only fitting that he'd make a remark like that.]
And, given that... I could always try, in vain. However. If it were possible, you might be satisfied enough to stop. I wouldn't like that.
[An insatiable, bottomless desire is nothing short of what he likes to hear. He feels that all good things run on this: in performance, the demand exists because there's not enough of him, and in intimacy, demand exists for the same reason. Mettaton finds the thrill of being in Emet-Selch's intimate company to satisfy him similarly, but in such different a way where he can have a demand in return. He doesn't have much of that with people, elsewhere. It only goes to show him what he'd spent his years without, in neglecting most all close contact.
So he hums, relaxing, though not to loosen his grip too significantly. It doesn't surprise him too much that he'd come to love somebody so different from himself, given the chemistry he feels from each encounter with the Ascian. Complicated enough are his views that... unfortunately, he saw reason in it, and that's a more dreadful aspect.
Something he could deal with later; he's optimistic. The idol doesn't want to think about that less-than-pleasant concept right now, preferring to think upon the present moment. The closer they grow, the more he gets something of a hint into Emet-Selch's mood, and it feels like something easy enough to break with a gentle touch. Something bred out of affection, likely, and Mettaton's all the more willing to dole out more of it for that, feeling as amorous as he does. Mettaton kisses him atop his head, his fingers rubbing through locks of hair in slow passes. Feeling things is good, especially when it's something unusual and jarring, he thinks.
...Emet-Selch's earlier request to temper him in Zodiark's place, should things work out in that way, takes on a new shade of delight for the Puca, who would relish taking him for himself. It would be blind and unbending, sure... But he can fantasize. That relaxed grip turns more intense, and he holds him closer to his body.]