[Mettaton would have to admit that when it came to his body, there's so, so much for him to focus on with regards to its changes even over the span of the last hour. And really, he regards it all as wonderful. Where he hadn't noticed any tension in his back, Emet-Selch's fingers move to rub him anyway. And how pleasant, that this affection isn't only sweet, but effective — muscles that yet possess a level of soreness lingering are pressed into by fingertips, and it warrants a sigh out of the robot. He'd felt somewhat what it was like to have muscles in his legs, but having a body made of it...
It isn't to discount his robotic form, which he also loves. That's his coveted body. But there's something so wildly fantastic about this that gives Mettaton so much of what he's always loved in a human's body. Right down to this inability to move. It warms him up from his core, thinking about what they've done to each other to reach such a point of succumbing.
So he sighs into that kiss. When Emet-Selch falters thanks to his movement, he takes control of it with a soft breath, taking his lower lip for himself with a contented hum. A reminder of his body, a reminder of their passion that persists, and... what he's found here, in Aefenglom.
Considering the chances at all has Mettaton deepening his kiss. He leans in, hungry for it as he slips a tongue against Emet-Selch's lip, feeling him as he applies a gentle sucking to his lip with another hum of pleasure. He breaks his longing kiss to respond, before he gets too distracted. He exhales an airy, blissful laugh alongside his sigh, smitten and charmed and in love. But not just that: loving Emet-Selch, wanting the best for him and wanting to see him flourish, however they can.]
A fantastic meeting. Somebody to indulge in all of this strange newness with, as raw and as intimate as you and I can combined. How I cherish it, that I'm sitting here before you now...
[On a smile, Mettaton's definitely on the more optimistic end of things. He feels overwhelmingly fortunate and grateful in this, grateful that Emet-Selch took to him as he did, grateful that he learned such crucial details about the Ascian when he did, and grateful that they met at all, even if their meeting was like a roulette that required being captured and tortured by humans to do it. Mettaton wouldn't trade that in for anything: it brought him perspective, it brought him sympathy, and more than anything else, it brought him Emet-Selch.
In his love, he takes Emet-Selch into another kiss. Such a familiar taste embellished by the blood lingering between them. More dizziness; more craving, for all of what Emet-Selch has to offer. His heartbeat itself feels thicker and harder in his passion lit anew, and he presses into that kiss, his love for the other man overcoming him.]
Oh, Hades. I love you...
[Said upon an exhale brief enough only to say as much, where the idol otherwise presses more deeply into this passionate, loving kiss.]
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It isn't to discount his robotic form, which he also loves. That's his coveted body. But there's something so wildly fantastic about this that gives Mettaton so much of what he's always loved in a human's body. Right down to this inability to move. It warms him up from his core, thinking about what they've done to each other to reach such a point of succumbing.
So he sighs into that kiss. When Emet-Selch falters thanks to his movement, he takes control of it with a soft breath, taking his lower lip for himself with a contented hum. A reminder of his body, a reminder of their passion that persists, and... what he's found here, in Aefenglom.
Considering the chances at all has Mettaton deepening his kiss. He leans in, hungry for it as he slips a tongue against Emet-Selch's lip, feeling him as he applies a gentle sucking to his lip with another hum of pleasure. He breaks his longing kiss to respond, before he gets too distracted. He exhales an airy, blissful laugh alongside his sigh, smitten and charmed and in love. But not just that: loving Emet-Selch, wanting the best for him and wanting to see him flourish, however they can.]
A fantastic meeting. Somebody to indulge in all of this strange newness with, as raw and as intimate as you and I can combined. How I cherish it, that I'm sitting here before you now...
[On a smile, Mettaton's definitely on the more optimistic end of things. He feels overwhelmingly fortunate and grateful in this, grateful that Emet-Selch took to him as he did, grateful that he learned such crucial details about the Ascian when he did, and grateful that they met at all, even if their meeting was like a roulette that required being captured and tortured by humans to do it. Mettaton wouldn't trade that in for anything: it brought him perspective, it brought him sympathy, and more than anything else, it brought him Emet-Selch.
In his love, he takes Emet-Selch into another kiss. Such a familiar taste embellished by the blood lingering between them. More dizziness; more craving, for all of what Emet-Selch has to offer. His heartbeat itself feels thicker and harder in his passion lit anew, and he presses into that kiss, his love for the other man overcoming him.]
Oh, Hades. I love you...
[Said upon an exhale brief enough only to say as much, where the idol otherwise presses more deeply into this passionate, loving kiss.]