[Though he laughs at first, an airy thing, at Emet-Selch's dramatic pronouncement of diverting Mettaton's attention to prevent the "damage" he leaves in his wake, he finds the suggestion that he needs to be diverted amusing. As though without his lover to focus his attentions on, all else would suffer for it. And he's okay with being that threat in need of public service, as his words hitch in his throat at the feeling of the Ascian's lips pressed against his cheek with pressure. These kisses cause him to jump a little, their deliberation and intensity sensual and pleasant, and Mettaton sensitive to it with how thoroughly he takes in the moments.
His meaning, his response to Mettaton's claim on him, is conveyed crystal clear, and Mettaton gives him a satisfied noise, offering him his jawline.]
If you mean... did I bring them excitement? Coax them into doing what they never thought they would? Bring them jarringly into the moment, with me? Absolutely.
[The thought of his cousin doing anything performative on their own accord? Impossible. Alphys, swamped in her own version of grief that only seemed to grow (for reasons he's still wrapping his mind around but no thanks), being encouraged to pursue status as the royal scientist? With self-esteem like hers, would she really have done as much without a little push? Encouraging people to live in the moment and to abandon their hang-ups, at least for the moment, is something he finds himself good at.
He's a professional distraction.]
Do what you can to keep me under control, then, sweetheart. Your tenacity's enviable... Though you could never subdue me enough to prevent me from exacting some damage.
And if I'm the primary beneficiary, the one to be distracted by you...
[And Mettaton quickly catches Emet-Selch in a greedy kiss by suddenly turning his head, leaning into him and humming with the energy like he couldn't resist the temptation. He gives off that feeling a lot, indulging in his desires for Emet-Selch entirely too often. He lingers against Emet-Selch's lips, feeling his warmth against him in the only way he can. Talk about a mutual possessiveness.]
I'm flattered... For such care to be taken to satisfy my inclinations. With your company, as you do. That you find something worthwhile in it... Would only be my expectation. What am I, if not engaging...?
no subject
[Though he laughs at first, an airy thing, at Emet-Selch's dramatic pronouncement of diverting Mettaton's attention to prevent the "damage" he leaves in his wake, he finds the suggestion that he needs to be diverted amusing. As though without his lover to focus his attentions on, all else would suffer for it. And he's okay with being that threat in need of public service, as his words hitch in his throat at the feeling of the Ascian's lips pressed against his cheek with pressure. These kisses cause him to jump a little, their deliberation and intensity sensual and pleasant, and Mettaton sensitive to it with how thoroughly he takes in the moments.
His meaning, his response to Mettaton's claim on him, is conveyed crystal clear, and Mettaton gives him a satisfied noise, offering him his jawline.]
If you mean... did I bring them excitement? Coax them into doing what they never thought they would? Bring them jarringly into the moment, with me? Absolutely.
[The thought of his cousin doing anything performative on their own accord? Impossible. Alphys, swamped in her own version of grief that only seemed to grow (for reasons he's still wrapping his mind around but no thanks), being encouraged to pursue status as the royal scientist? With self-esteem like hers, would she really have done as much without a little push? Encouraging people to live in the moment and to abandon their hang-ups, at least for the moment, is something he finds himself good at.
He's a professional distraction.]
Do what you can to keep me under control, then, sweetheart. Your tenacity's enviable... Though you could never subdue me enough to prevent me from exacting some damage.
And if I'm the primary beneficiary, the one to be distracted by you...
[And Mettaton quickly catches Emet-Selch in a greedy kiss by suddenly turning his head, leaning into him and humming with the energy like he couldn't resist the temptation. He gives off that feeling a lot, indulging in his desires for Emet-Selch entirely too often. He lingers against Emet-Selch's lips, feeling his warmth against him in the only way he can. Talk about a mutual possessiveness.]
I'm flattered... For such care to be taken to satisfy my inclinations. With your company, as you do. That you find something worthwhile in it... Would only be my expectation. What am I, if not engaging...?