[It remained unnecessary. These weren't sentiments that needed to be revealed, there was no new information to be expressed. But there was something to the effort of words, he supposed. Emet-Selch would've expected a sense of accompanying finality- as though he were giving in to some unbearable fate, submitting to terrible inevitability.
But it wasn't too bad. The feeling of Mettaton's kiss focuses his attention; the attention to his lip has his breath quiet. And Emet-Selch is immediately reassured that the effort- difficult as it had been for him- had been the right choice. Just feeling Mettaton's response would've been enough; the physical signs of his matching affection, the emotional closeness that remained.
He wondered, distantly, how accustomed Mettaton was to such shared 'confessions'. Love for a group was one thing: idealized, impractical. If returned, it wasn't exactly in the same fashion. It was different towards an individual. And for as friendly as the puca was, how clearly capable of deeper connections- Emet-Selch doubted that this was a terribly common occurrence.
It was a little hard to look at him. The words, when they came, were not unexpected, but startling all the same in his own response. The way his heart lurched painfully, and the Ascian didn't know why. Because it mattered to him? From stilling, his hand smooths over to gently cup the side of his lover's face, and he presses back to his lips in a long, answering kiss.
How could words be so overwhelming? Despite not being enough on their own, despite not being necessary at all? Even when he breaks the kiss, it's only technically, lips brushing over Mettaton's as he speaks.]
...Is there even anything left to hold back? 'Tis far too late for that- for either of us.
[Though Emet-Selch fully expected to continue being alarmed and unsettled on the regular. Emotions like these didn't settle easily on him; he doubted they ever would. Even in Amaurot he would've shied away from them, but--
For all they were immortals, there was no chance for eternity here. And while that thought remained a source of pain, something he'd continually return to, to remind himself of the pointlessness of it all- it did force him to acknowledge things far quicker than he otherwise would. With 'far quicker' really meaning 'at all'. If he didn't now, he might lose the chance- and that thought was even worse.
An impossible combination of circumstances, combined with an impossible person... If anything had been out of place, it never would've happened. Even with everything aligned, it still could've gone far differently, and the thought has him nestle slightly closer, kissing him again.]
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But it wasn't too bad. The feeling of Mettaton's kiss focuses his attention; the attention to his lip has his breath quiet. And Emet-Selch is immediately reassured that the effort- difficult as it had been for him- had been the right choice. Just feeling Mettaton's response would've been enough; the physical signs of his matching affection, the emotional closeness that remained.
He wondered, distantly, how accustomed Mettaton was to such shared 'confessions'. Love for a group was one thing: idealized, impractical. If returned, it wasn't exactly in the same fashion. It was different towards an individual. And for as friendly as the puca was, how clearly capable of deeper connections- Emet-Selch doubted that this was a terribly common occurrence.
It was a little hard to look at him. The words, when they came, were not unexpected, but startling all the same in his own response. The way his heart lurched painfully, and the Ascian didn't know why. Because it mattered to him? From stilling, his hand smooths over to gently cup the side of his lover's face, and he presses back to his lips in a long, answering kiss.
How could words be so overwhelming? Despite not being enough on their own, despite not being necessary at all? Even when he breaks the kiss, it's only technically, lips brushing over Mettaton's as he speaks.]
...Is there even anything left to hold back? 'Tis far too late for that- for either of us.
[Though Emet-Selch fully expected to continue being alarmed and unsettled on the regular. Emotions like these didn't settle easily on him; he doubted they ever would. Even in Amaurot he would've shied away from them, but--
For all they were immortals, there was no chance for eternity here. And while that thought remained a source of pain, something he'd continually return to, to remind himself of the pointlessness of it all- it did force him to acknowledge things far quicker than he otherwise would. With 'far quicker' really meaning 'at all'. If he didn't now, he might lose the chance- and that thought was even worse.
An impossible combination of circumstances, combined with an impossible person... If anything had been out of place, it never would've happened. Even with everything aligned, it still could've gone far differently, and the thought has him nestle slightly closer, kissing him again.]