[What conviction. Though not a surprise, it's said with such clarity of intent that Emet-Selch was briefly taken aback by it. Saying things like that, claiming things like always; it'd be a cruel sort of tease if he weren't so convincing. If the Ascian didn't want to be convinced, to try and go along with Mettaton's absurd view of things. To trust that it would somehow work out, or that the present was all that they needed- that if they could keep extending this moment, there was no reason to fear the ending of it. That this, somehow, would remain, because they wanted it to.
Quickened pulse more evident in his throat as he bares it to him, the Ascian shivers as lips close on it, as he feels the tightness of skin being bruised under his Bonded's efforts. A visible sign that Mettaton had been there, that he could look at and touch in the days to come, and remember this moment. Even faded, it would remain in his memory with all the others. Layered on top of every previous image, how long would it take before he could see nothing else? Only record after record, all in a perpetual state of being renewed.]
Then-- I want to see how much you can take from me. How much... can you leave behind?
[An encouragement, however unnecessary, towards Mettaton's current efforts, expelled as a hiss between teeth, half-pained, half-simply intent. A response to the sinking of teeth into his neck, the deliberate breaking of skin. The love and even care that he could feel behind that damage, that struck him more deeply than any bite ever could. The strange consideration involved even when he was drinking his blood. How could he not trust Mettaton's judgement? He was so certain--
They possessed one another. But there was no harm in seeing that expressed. In feeling it written into his flesh, using the instruments of lips and teeth. His skin made to give way to Mettaton's intention, as though there could be any other outcome.
His hold on him tightens, fingertips kneading, body pressing to his and demanding his continued closeness. Closeness and claim and shared possession; how many markings could his body take? What records could Mettaton leave behind on him or in him; how much could he fit? It was an odd sort of curiosity to have, but a thought that was becoming quite captivating.
Much better than rational fears or uncertainties. There was a hand on his heart and teeth at his neck. A combination that felt like the most natural thing of all.]
no subject
Quickened pulse more evident in his throat as he bares it to him, the Ascian shivers as lips close on it, as he feels the tightness of skin being bruised under his Bonded's efforts. A visible sign that Mettaton had been there, that he could look at and touch in the days to come, and remember this moment. Even faded, it would remain in his memory with all the others. Layered on top of every previous image, how long would it take before he could see nothing else? Only record after record, all in a perpetual state of being renewed.]
Then-- I want to see how much you can take from me. How much... can you leave behind?
[An encouragement, however unnecessary, towards Mettaton's current efforts, expelled as a hiss between teeth, half-pained, half-simply intent. A response to the sinking of teeth into his neck, the deliberate breaking of skin. The love and even care that he could feel behind that damage, that struck him more deeply than any bite ever could. The strange consideration involved even when he was drinking his blood. How could he not trust Mettaton's judgement? He was so certain--
They possessed one another. But there was no harm in seeing that expressed. In feeling it written into his flesh, using the instruments of lips and teeth. His skin made to give way to Mettaton's intention, as though there could be any other outcome.
His hold on him tightens, fingertips kneading, body pressing to his and demanding his continued closeness. Closeness and claim and shared possession; how many markings could his body take? What records could Mettaton leave behind on him or in him; how much could he fit? It was an odd sort of curiosity to have, but a thought that was becoming quite captivating.
Much better than rational fears or uncertainties. There was a hand on his heart and teeth at his neck. A combination that felt like the most natural thing of all.]