[His fingers willingly lock around Mettaton's. Five against four, but... he didn't see that as a flaw to his Bonded's shapeshifting. Four was the Correct number for him, so what else would he have (though the Ascian would also agree that however many fingers Mettaton wanted would also be correct)? If anything, it made him feel he had slightly too many himself....]
One of someone like you is more than enough.
[It's more dryly spoke, but, well, Mettaton had some right to be smug, he supposed. To be able to capture his attentions like this was a special thing, of course. No one else had managed it (who else would want to, was something he refused to consider). Which softens him as well, and has him feeling gratitude once more.
Looking back down again, he watches as Mettaton trails attention over his neck, a sight and feeling that has him tilting his head slightly into it. Another movement that sets the whole area aching but he ignores that. Soreness was just going to be a part of his life for a while. But for decorations like this, it was a small enough price.
And how absurd it was that it was only under these precise circumstances that he found he could talk about this whatsoever. Drained and bruised and bloodied and several times fucked, with his lover's cock still inside him. With his body on full display to them both. But Emet-Selch couldn't think of any other way it could have worked; he needed to have been reduced this far. And even now, he didn't know how much longer he could maintain such... verbal sentiment. But he could manage once more.]
...Thank you, then- for reminding me that it's yet possible to manifest this degree of care for another. Even after so many years.
[While he would, and had, reminded those heroes that his people weren't unfeeling monsters, were capable of all the same emotions and relationships... that was a world and a time far removed from the present. For himself, he'd thought he'd lost that along with all the rest.
Shifting his free arm, Emet-Selch reaches up to touch the side of Mettaton's face with his fingertips. A gentle, familiar sort of touch.]
--You've given a great deal to me. Your heart, not least- and though you've taken mine in recompense, [Something that he still pauses over, as though this were a thing he had trouble comprehending.] is there anything else I can do for you? My means may not be what they once were... but what of it?
no subject
One of someone like you is more than enough.
[It's more dryly spoke, but, well, Mettaton had some right to be smug, he supposed. To be able to capture his attentions like this was a special thing, of course. No one else had managed it (who else would want to, was something he refused to consider). Which softens him as well, and has him feeling gratitude once more.
Looking back down again, he watches as Mettaton trails attention over his neck, a sight and feeling that has him tilting his head slightly into it. Another movement that sets the whole area aching but he ignores that. Soreness was just going to be a part of his life for a while. But for decorations like this, it was a small enough price.
And how absurd it was that it was only under these precise circumstances that he found he could talk about this whatsoever. Drained and bruised and bloodied and several times fucked, with his lover's cock still inside him. With his body on full display to them both. But Emet-Selch couldn't think of any other way it could have worked; he needed to have been reduced this far. And even now, he didn't know how much longer he could maintain such... verbal sentiment. But he could manage once more.]
...Thank you, then- for reminding me that it's yet possible to manifest this degree of care for another. Even after so many years.
[While he would, and had, reminded those heroes that his people weren't unfeeling monsters, were capable of all the same emotions and relationships... that was a world and a time far removed from the present. For himself, he'd thought he'd lost that along with all the rest.
Shifting his free arm, Emet-Selch reaches up to touch the side of Mettaton's face with his fingertips. A gentle, familiar sort of touch.]
--You've given a great deal to me. Your heart, not least- and though you've taken mine in recompense, [Something that he still pauses over, as though this were a thing he had trouble comprehending.] is there anything else I can do for you? My means may not be what they once were... but what of it?