[If Mettaton felt light and warm, the Ascian felt heavy and warm. Strong emotion dragged him down as it ever did, but at least this time there was the warmth of companionship to accompany his sadness. Intense, yet calm and soft and slow. Though still gentle, his fingers stroke with a margin more firmness across Mettaton's face, encouraged by the cover of the puca's own hand. It brought another small sense of being held, enclosed.
What an absolute mess. All of the affection is a little overwhelming for Emet-Selch in itself, if not in the desperately aroused sense, but emotionally. His expression shows a trace of that- not quite so negative as unease, but a sense of being unsure. What was he meant to do with all of this...?
For the moment, what he does is return those gestures as best as he could, quietly dwelling on those he could not, as though recording every last detail, no matter how small. At the question, he doesn't answer immediately, instead finding Mettaton's lips for another kiss, light but lingering, and less interrupted by his need for air. It's only with reluctance that he breaks it enough to speak, though without actually moving far from the other man's lips.]
...not too bad. [Overwhelmed, aching, reassured.] And- yourself...?
[He didn't want Mettaton to move. Even if it ultimately wasn't very comfortable, and contained a slow sense of being crushed. Which was... how he felt about all of this, really. Despite the discomfort, he didn't want to pull back from it.]
no subject
What an absolute mess. All of the affection is a little overwhelming for Emet-Selch in itself, if not in the desperately aroused sense, but emotionally. His expression shows a trace of that- not quite so negative as unease, but a sense of being unsure. What was he meant to do with all of this...?
For the moment, what he does is return those gestures as best as he could, quietly dwelling on those he could not, as though recording every last detail, no matter how small. At the question, he doesn't answer immediately, instead finding Mettaton's lips for another kiss, light but lingering, and less interrupted by his need for air. It's only with reluctance that he breaks it enough to speak, though without actually moving far from the other man's lips.]
...not too bad. [Overwhelmed, aching, reassured.] And- yourself...?
[He didn't want Mettaton to move. Even if it ultimately wasn't very comfortable, and contained a slow sense of being crushed. Which was... how he felt about all of this, really. Despite the discomfort, he didn't want to pull back from it.]