[That his physical condition was becoming something Mettaton could view with some amusement didn't particularly surprise him (nor did Mettaton's apparent desire to experience said soreness... absurd as it was, his fascination with sensations like that was a point of fondness). And even with the immediate crisis so briefly behind them, it wouldn't be hard to take a single glance at the Ascian's body and not be reminded of exactly how he had been made to be so sore. How long he'd gone with his legs wrapped around Mettaton or otherwise spread, with a cock stroking his body so deeply. It wasn't as though their most recent unfortunate conclusion could erase the pleasure they'd both took in everything preceding it.
Mettaton's mention of options draws a blink, especially when instead of going ahead and giving them to him, he shifts an arm underneath the Ascian's legs, scooping him up into a scandalous, unmarried bridal-carry. But other than continuing to attach to him as much as possible, Emet-Selch does nothing to prevent or protest this, caring only about remaining in contact with his body. Of course, any kind of movement hurt, put pressure on one thing, or pulled at something else. None of it was comfortable. But then, neither was remaining where he had been, curled against his lover's body while on the floor.
It was still a small relief to be placed down somewhere softer, even if any contact with his shoulders stung, and his gaze remains on Mettaton, more relieved when the other man was careful to never break contact with him, even when settling him in place upon the pillows. Deliberate contact, even when it was relatively small- the brush of claw-tipped fingers, or the nudge of a hip- it was enough to sustain him through the process. Watching his lover's fur darken again (and only then really recognizing that it had briefly returned to its more familiar silvery-hue), sparks more fascination than concern; after all, his mood still felt secure. Whether his fur was dark or light, both looks were striking on him....
And it was the strangest point of reassurance, as Mettaton sidles into bed with him, thigh against his body, fingers together, leaned in for a kiss- to note his lover's continued desire for him. To recognize those glimmers of arousal, evident even in a body currently without a cock to make it particularly blatant. And he kisses him back, firmly, loving, with a heat of his own- though it's more in the direction of a want for his company than anything strictly sexual. Just- wanting him overall.
Mettaton looking back to the pendants reminds Emet-Selch of them again; that would explain the puca's forced shifting, the increase in certain inclinations, despite there being no full moon. But it was also clear that it was only an influence rather than control, nudges in certain directions that he could choose to indulge in or not.
And then Mettaton provides him his options (shower now, or later), asks him what he prefers- and then distracts him by letting go of his hand, picking up one of the pendants, and throwing it to the other side of the room. Landing with a distant clatter, Emet-Selch understands after a moment the point of such sudden anti-jewelry activity. Thusly separated, their influence should be greatly reduced... and his lover wouldn't have those extra inclinations nagging at him. It was a reasonable action, and the Ascian settles stiffly back into the bed, accepting his hand again as Mettaton resumes leaning close.
Squeezing a little at their fingers, Emet-Selch thinks about what he'd prefer. He did, sorely (literally) desire to be clean, a feeling that did steadily increase the longer he was left like this, and as uncomfortable as the process would be, the result would be soothing, a sign that everything would be fine... even if it took a while to get there. But Mettaton had also just picked him up and placed him down so kindly upon the bed... stained as it was, damp in any number of places. For at least a little while, then... he could rest here.
In either case, he just wanted to be with him. Leaning up, he does go to the effort to kiss him again, a firm touch of lips. ...But his neck hurt to stretch out like that, so he lets his head fall back against the pillows with what would've been a huff. But with the way he settles in, it seems to indicate a desire to stay where he was, for the time being. Still wanting to kiss him, and wanting him closer in general, he lets go of his hand in order to bring fingers to the back of Mettaton's head, tugging him downward, in the direction of his lips.
It's not much of a tug, all things considered. But he tries.]
no subject
Mettaton's mention of options draws a blink, especially when instead of going ahead and giving them to him, he shifts an arm underneath the Ascian's legs, scooping him up into a scandalous, unmarried bridal-carry. But other than continuing to attach to him as much as possible, Emet-Selch does nothing to prevent or protest this, caring only about remaining in contact with his body. Of course, any kind of movement hurt, put pressure on one thing, or pulled at something else. None of it was comfortable. But then, neither was remaining where he had been, curled against his lover's body while on the floor.
It was still a small relief to be placed down somewhere softer, even if any contact with his shoulders stung, and his gaze remains on Mettaton, more relieved when the other man was careful to never break contact with him, even when settling him in place upon the pillows. Deliberate contact, even when it was relatively small- the brush of claw-tipped fingers, or the nudge of a hip- it was enough to sustain him through the process. Watching his lover's fur darken again (and only then really recognizing that it had briefly returned to its more familiar silvery-hue), sparks more fascination than concern; after all, his mood still felt secure. Whether his fur was dark or light, both looks were striking on him....
And it was the strangest point of reassurance, as Mettaton sidles into bed with him, thigh against his body, fingers together, leaned in for a kiss- to note his lover's continued desire for him. To recognize those glimmers of arousal, evident even in a body currently without a cock to make it particularly blatant. And he kisses him back, firmly, loving, with a heat of his own- though it's more in the direction of a want for his company than anything strictly sexual. Just- wanting him overall.
Mettaton looking back to the pendants reminds Emet-Selch of them again; that would explain the puca's forced shifting, the increase in certain inclinations, despite there being no full moon. But it was also clear that it was only an influence rather than control, nudges in certain directions that he could choose to indulge in or not.
And then Mettaton provides him his options (shower now, or later), asks him what he prefers- and then distracts him by letting go of his hand, picking up one of the pendants, and throwing it to the other side of the room. Landing with a distant clatter, Emet-Selch understands after a moment the point of such sudden anti-jewelry activity. Thusly separated, their influence should be greatly reduced... and his lover wouldn't have those extra inclinations nagging at him. It was a reasonable action, and the Ascian settles stiffly back into the bed, accepting his hand again as Mettaton resumes leaning close.
Squeezing a little at their fingers, Emet-Selch thinks about what he'd prefer. He did, sorely (literally) desire to be clean, a feeling that did steadily increase the longer he was left like this, and as uncomfortable as the process would be, the result would be soothing, a sign that everything would be fine... even if it took a while to get there. But Mettaton had also just picked him up and placed him down so kindly upon the bed... stained as it was, damp in any number of places. For at least a little while, then... he could rest here.
In either case, he just wanted to be with him. Leaning up, he does go to the effort to kiss him again, a firm touch of lips. ...But his neck hurt to stretch out like that, so he lets his head fall back against the pillows with what would've been a huff. But with the way he settles in, it seems to indicate a desire to stay where he was, for the time being. Still wanting to kiss him, and wanting him closer in general, he lets go of his hand in order to bring fingers to the back of Mettaton's head, tugging him downward, in the direction of his lips.
It's not much of a tug, all things considered. But he tries.]