[The yelp surprises and satisfies him in turn, and Emet-Selch can't help but bury his face into Mettaton's neck with more intent, in contrast to the relative gentleness of the kisses he decorates it with. But at the base of Mettaton's neck, where it curves towards shoulder, he bites down again, brief but firm, then sucks hard at the region with a muffled sound.

...Having to continually pull himself back a little from his actions in order to speak was- an interesting experience, more than a bit testing. The Ascian remained bemused at how much temptation there could be just from remaining in Mettaton's presence, having to take the time to collect himself again as his lips release his neck and he thinks on his answer.]

The white... [Emet-Selch interrupts himself, not intentionally; the hand sliding to his side was distracting, pleasant. The muscles underneath Mettaton's hand tense faintly. He takes a breath. The touch to his hair helped him focus, somehow.] In the original world, my hair was entirely white. Garleans- that is, the group this host belongs to- do possess white hair as well, but 'tis not as commonplace.

[Combining the two did probably stand out more, but it was within acceptable limits, he felt.]

This third eye, [Because technically that thing is an eye, apparently, for all that he can see little more out of it than his ruined one.] is a strictly Garlean trait, so no, that was already there when I claimed this form. And there it must remain.

[A form that was contently melding itself to the puca's, in response to his shifting, fingers kept firm to the other's back.]