[Though he's not thinking of any specific past instance himself, the moment did strike Emet-Selch as somewhat nostalgic. Familiar, in the way they settled together in what privacy they could find, shutting out the outside world for a time. One more world to shut out, in favor of their lover- an easy preference, to turn their attention to this.

Shamelessly, they gaze upon each other. There had never been any lack of hesitation there, nor self-consciousness. And no reason for it to start, when need was only ever tempered for the sake of something more. Mettaton slips onto the bed with all the grace he was familiar with, and no less affected by- as there was no coaxing required for the mage to lean towards him, to seek out his arms and body.

Interest was certainly alight, between them. And distraction with it; already, Emet-Selch was less conscious of his various less-pleasant aches and sores. And if he wasn't as well-rested as Mettaton, he was about as awake as he ever was, all his consciousness focused on the man beside him.

There were no dangers, for now, and no telling when the next crisis would arise. For right now they were together, and that was all they ever seemed to have. Only the present, for as long as it managed to last.]

Then... stay with me, this time.

[The bed underneath might very well have some remnant of robotic-heat left on its covers. Clothed as he was, Emet-Selch couldn't tell, but there was an easy solution to that problem. The plucking at the fabric at his hips could easily transition to a removal of it all. And while he wasn't impatient for his greater touch, there was no hiding that he dearly wanted it.]

You can't take care of anything if you're not here. [His voice is quiet, lifting a hand to cup the side of his husband's face- no longer rent by anyone's claws.] But I don't think we'll ever catch up, like this.