[Apart from the inherent discomfort involved in moving at all, it felt better to be on his back again, the meager effort of sitting up and sort of conversing and drinking water using up what bits of stamina he'd collected. He wasn't the worse off for it; to the contrary, in a practical sense Emet-Selch could only improve with the water, but it was time to sleep more if he ever wanted to continue doing such strenuous tasks. But this was as comfortable as he could probably be right now; Mettaton settling down next to him was most congenial, as was knowing that he would remain, possibly sleeping with him. That would be nice, he thought- the robot could always use some more sleep....
But his company alone would be enough, and while he can't burrow against him to show his approval, his appreciation, the Ascian can at least lean. Can nudge, just a little. He was sure that just having him nearby would help, somehow, even if it wasn't as though Mettaton could cause his blood to regenerate any faster (and that technically, he was his greatest risk for losing more of it). But he was a reason to heal... someone concrete to heal for, some small task he could achieve for someone.
Plans for the immediate future in place, Emet-Selch's consciousness already begins to drift, until he feels a small shifting, a soft touch of lips against his own that turns into the most gentle of kisses. It's a contact that causes the quietest of sounds to form in his throat, something that's scarcely given any opportunity to escape, and not because it's trapped there by force. But it's all the Ascian can manage, his approval faint in tone but not in sentiment.
This softness was exactly what they both needed, he thought; these feelings were the ones most needed to express. Sometimes there was heat and pressure, air stolen from his lungs, noise suffocated in his chest, sometimes there were kisses pressed to all parts of either of their bodies, some firm, some wet, some accompanied by gasps or interrupted by moans. There was a lot that a kiss could encompass, and when shared with his lover, they could only be a pleasure.
But they each had their time and place, and this time only gentleness would suffice.
By the time Mettaton pulls back, his consciousness is already fading again, though the darkness that follows didn't seem quite so absolute, not so beset by confusion and fear. No, this time he knew exactly where he was, and it... it wasn't a bad place.]
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But his company alone would be enough, and while he can't burrow against him to show his approval, his appreciation, the Ascian can at least lean. Can nudge, just a little. He was sure that just having him nearby would help, somehow, even if it wasn't as though Mettaton could cause his blood to regenerate any faster (and that technically, he was his greatest risk for losing more of it). But he was a reason to heal... someone concrete to heal for, some small task he could achieve for someone.
Plans for the immediate future in place, Emet-Selch's consciousness already begins to drift, until he feels a small shifting, a soft touch of lips against his own that turns into the most gentle of kisses. It's a contact that causes the quietest of sounds to form in his throat, something that's scarcely given any opportunity to escape, and not because it's trapped there by force. But it's all the Ascian can manage, his approval faint in tone but not in sentiment.
This softness was exactly what they both needed, he thought; these feelings were the ones most needed to express. Sometimes there was heat and pressure, air stolen from his lungs, noise suffocated in his chest, sometimes there were kisses pressed to all parts of either of their bodies, some firm, some wet, some accompanied by gasps or interrupted by moans. There was a lot that a kiss could encompass, and when shared with his lover, they could only be a pleasure.
But they each had their time and place, and this time only gentleness would suffice.
By the time Mettaton pulls back, his consciousness is already fading again, though the darkness that follows didn't seem quite so absolute, not so beset by confusion and fear. No, this time he knew exactly where he was, and it... it wasn't a bad place.]