[It was something inevitable. It wasn't as though neither of them were unaware of the issue, that certain limitations to Mettaton's beloved body ran contrary to how they were used to expressing themselves. A functional display of ardor, that they both adored tending to....
It was better than no body at all. The smaller man accepted that much, was even grateful for that much, that his lover was spared the discomfort of feeling nothing, of not possessing a shape that suited how he saw himself. (And more selfishly, Emet-Selch was relieved to be able to hold him at all, something that wouldn't have been possible had he been a ghost with nothing to hide in.)
And he appreciated with it, that Mettaton was touching him now, was presumably feeling something of the skin underneath his fingers, of the tension he could inspire in his muscles. Temperature, the warmth of his body, those details would be lost, but Mettaton hadn't had much of that to start with.
So Emet-Selch manages a pleased noise, despite his discontent. An approval reflected in the way he presses back to him, assuming that Mettaton would continue handling his chest. His nipples too, react immediately to touch, hardening from even a brush of attention. And arousal comes with it, a warmth that gathered in his body, as it so often did in Mettaton's company.
Though there were multiple reasons to temper it. There was the more immediate of fingers reaching and inspecting for wounds. Gently so, and while it wasn't too uncomfortable physically, it was a reminder of what had happened that night. They'd found each other only to hurt each other- but there was nothing new about that, it was only a matter of degree.
But more reason was their conversation, this addressing what they needed to, when it came to what Mettaton had lost, in arriving here. In being an unaltered robot.
That another robot's body had changed was a surprise, and his brow furrows. Was it because Mettaton wasn't a true robot, that he'd been neglected, somehow? Even as Mettaton toys with his nipples, he couldn't get too distracted, one of his hands moving to brush against a freshly grown hand.]
...Would you have preferred to become human?
[Was this something Mettaton would wish for? Emet-Selch wasn't sure how he felt about that. It would depend entirely on whether it would be a permanent change that would somehow carry across worlds, making Mettaton no longer a monster- and unbearably mortal.]
no subject
It was better than no body at all. The smaller man accepted that much, was even grateful for that much, that his lover was spared the discomfort of feeling nothing, of not possessing a shape that suited how he saw himself. (And more selfishly, Emet-Selch was relieved to be able to hold him at all, something that wouldn't have been possible had he been a ghost with nothing to hide in.)
And he appreciated with it, that Mettaton was touching him now, was presumably feeling something of the skin underneath his fingers, of the tension he could inspire in his muscles. Temperature, the warmth of his body, those details would be lost, but Mettaton hadn't had much of that to start with.
So Emet-Selch manages a pleased noise, despite his discontent. An approval reflected in the way he presses back to him, assuming that Mettaton would continue handling his chest. His nipples too, react immediately to touch, hardening from even a brush of attention. And arousal comes with it, a warmth that gathered in his body, as it so often did in Mettaton's company.
Though there were multiple reasons to temper it. There was the more immediate of fingers reaching and inspecting for wounds. Gently so, and while it wasn't too uncomfortable physically, it was a reminder of what had happened that night. They'd found each other only to hurt each other- but there was nothing new about that, it was only a matter of degree.
But more reason was their conversation, this addressing what they needed to, when it came to what Mettaton had lost, in arriving here. In being an unaltered robot.
That another robot's body had changed was a surprise, and his brow furrows. Was it because Mettaton wasn't a true robot, that he'd been neglected, somehow? Even as Mettaton toys with his nipples, he couldn't get too distracted, one of his hands moving to brush against a freshly grown hand.]
...Would you have preferred to become human?
[Was this something Mettaton would wish for? Emet-Selch wasn't sure how he felt about that. It would depend entirely on whether it would be a permanent change that would somehow carry across worlds, making Mettaton no longer a monster- and unbearably mortal.]