[If there's an extra component to Mettaton's interest in his neck and its supply of blood, it's too early for it to occur to him. Monsters did like witch blood... and it was natural that Mettaton would favor his specifically... so with it available, why not indulge? Yes, this was all a healthy interest in Emet-Selch's mind; the idol could drain him quite considerably before any alarm was raised (and even then... would it?). As it was, he could appreciate the attention, the sensation of warm lips and tongue against his skin; even the brushing over of raw injuries felt pleasant under the circumstance, a touch that was only stronger, rather than painful.
That Mettaton would feel so desirous of it... that was normal, right? That was just how his Bonded was, with him. And Emet-Selch liked the intimacy of it. This was clearly something to encourage, and a quiet hum works in his throat, underneath the other's lips.
Equally as familiar by now was that sense of caring from the man, though the Ascian didn't really know the shape or scope of it. Which made it somewhat easier to accept, now that he was regularly having to tolerate such things like 'fondness' and 'affection' as well. Now that he was regularly returning the damned things, while being aware of it.
What was unfamiliar was to feel the idol shivering- or rather, for it to be seemingly the result of temperature, rather than arousal. And while Mettaton may have found the new sensation to be a pleasant one, Emet-Selch just considers that he must be getting cold, and briefly unhands the idol's back to cast about with his arm for some manner of blanket or cover. Fortunately, there seems to be something in reach, and he tugs it over, to toss at least part of it over Mettaton's body. Better than nothing, he supposed, and all he could really do from his position, as he returned his arm to his back, tightening around him once more.
It was all something to distract himself with, when Mettaton's attention turns towards his ear, the heat of his face comfortable against his neck, but his words less so. A question so open-ended is in itself hard to answer. Because Emet-Selch can also think of any number of things that could be referred to, most of them more than a little complicated, emotions unusual and unlabeled.]
What part of it?
[Is his eventual reply, as though to buy himself more time to think on it, fingers smoothing through his hair, leaning gently against his face. But he does add an actual answer after a moment.]
...Comfortable. With you. Like this.
[Even that was open-ended of a reply, unsure exactly what he was referring to. Their physical position? Emotional connection? Both, he supposed, for all that the latter was more complicated. But he was at ease with him. Trusted him. The arm around Mettaton's body squeezes at him for a moment.]
--But what of you? Fully transformed as you are.
[Mettaton's way of processing things was just as mysterious to him.]
no subject
That Mettaton would feel so desirous of it... that was normal, right? That was just how his Bonded was, with him. And Emet-Selch liked the intimacy of it. This was clearly something to encourage, and a quiet hum works in his throat, underneath the other's lips.
Equally as familiar by now was that sense of caring from the man, though the Ascian didn't really know the shape or scope of it. Which made it somewhat easier to accept, now that he was regularly having to tolerate such things like 'fondness' and 'affection' as well. Now that he was regularly returning the damned things, while being aware of it.
What was unfamiliar was to feel the idol shivering- or rather, for it to be seemingly the result of temperature, rather than arousal. And while Mettaton may have found the new sensation to be a pleasant one, Emet-Selch just considers that he must be getting cold, and briefly unhands the idol's back to cast about with his arm for some manner of blanket or cover. Fortunately, there seems to be something in reach, and he tugs it over, to toss at least part of it over Mettaton's body. Better than nothing, he supposed, and all he could really do from his position, as he returned his arm to his back, tightening around him once more.
It was all something to distract himself with, when Mettaton's attention turns towards his ear, the heat of his face comfortable against his neck, but his words less so. A question so open-ended is in itself hard to answer. Because Emet-Selch can also think of any number of things that could be referred to, most of them more than a little complicated, emotions unusual and unlabeled.]
What part of it?
[Is his eventual reply, as though to buy himself more time to think on it, fingers smoothing through his hair, leaning gently against his face. But he does add an actual answer after a moment.]
...Comfortable. With you. Like this.
[Even that was open-ended of a reply, unsure exactly what he was referring to. Their physical position? Emotional connection? Both, he supposed, for all that the latter was more complicated. But he was at ease with him. Trusted him. The arm around Mettaton's body squeezes at him for a moment.]
--But what of you? Fully transformed as you are.
[Mettaton's way of processing things was just as mysterious to him.]