[Mettaton was moving; so long as he didn't feel his presence disappear, Emet-Selch could spare little more consciousness than that on what exactly he was doing. The Ascian remained scattered, thoughts disrupted, hollowed out and limp. It wasn't at all unpleasant, despite the sense of loss that mingled with physical euphoria, as though it were impossible for one to occur without the other. That was... just how it was. With closeness comes grief.
Gradually his breathing approaches a more normal rate. Though it takes some moments for anything beyond the sensation of blankets and contact to register, once it does, he's aware that Mettaton must've put a thought towards his comfort, which has a quiet effect on the Ascian. Small gestures like that tended to reach him.
Shifting more onto his side in turn, Emet-Selch willingly helps to burrow himself back against Mettaton's body. With a certain heaviness of limb, he wraps an arm around the other man's back, the Ascian's face hiding itself against the idol's throat. It was true that the robot wasn't as comfortable a form to meld to as one made of yielding flesh and additional skin, but that felt like a small detail compared to being embraced at all. To feel the hand in his hair, that small kiss- there was a sense of reassurance there, though from what, Emet-Selch wasn't certain.
He's silent for a time, not sure of what to say, or if anything in particular even needed to be said. But there was one thought, which he finally expresses, murmured against Metatton's neck.]
no subject
Gradually his breathing approaches a more normal rate. Though it takes some moments for anything beyond the sensation of blankets and contact to register, once it does, he's aware that Mettaton must've put a thought towards his comfort, which has a quiet effect on the Ascian. Small gestures like that tended to reach him.
Shifting more onto his side in turn, Emet-Selch willingly helps to burrow himself back against Mettaton's body. With a certain heaviness of limb, he wraps an arm around the other man's back, the Ascian's face hiding itself against the idol's throat. It was true that the robot wasn't as comfortable a form to meld to as one made of yielding flesh and additional skin, but that felt like a small detail compared to being embraced at all. To feel the hand in his hair, that small kiss- there was a sense of reassurance there, though from what, Emet-Selch wasn't certain.
He's silent for a time, not sure of what to say, or if anything in particular even needed to be said. But there was one thought, which he finally expresses, murmured against Metatton's neck.]
...'Tis a pity... that I cannot reciprocate.
[His tone carries a note of genuine regret.]