[Mettaton can't help himself. Brightly he laughs, beside himself at Emet-Selch's appreciation for his body. And while he knew he appreciated it because he had a thing against the mortal failings of human bodies,]
You'd better miss it, honey! This body's as good as yours, and I expect you to love it as much as I do.
[And though it's a playful comment... there was perhaps some truth to it, as Mettaton knew Emet-Selch was fond of his form for a good many reasons. It made Mettaton more vulnerable than he would've been without a body—but thinking of himself without a body is simply abhorrent, and Emet-Selch knew that, too. It gave Mettaton so much more. It gave him clarity, confidence, and ways to interact with the world that he'd never had before.
It just wasn't equipped. And that fact is glaringly obvious between them, as between Mettaton thighs is a whole lot of nothing. His puca variant had at least brought with it the enhancement of sensation, if disturbing in its ways. The flesh and veins and organs that crept beneath the surface of silicone and metal... It would disturb any good mechanic, particularly the sorts who wanted to see no cyborgs.
Mettaton was a mess inside, even though he'd felt better and more vividly than ever. His puca variant was something to miss; to that, Mettaton hugs him tight. Against his skin, he interjects with a mutter.]
... I didn't mind it, either. All of the little things...
[... He does have that, anyway. Even if it's not quite so detailed, anatomically, and more of a magical manifestation. Mettaton partially shapeshifts into a rabbit—but it's only that much, with fur upon his hips, claws on fingertips, ears upon his head... and rabbit feet where heels once were. They'd find a way, and Mettaton nuzzles Emet-Selch deeply with an appreciative sound.]
Right now, [he starts, ears folding back;] It's about as much as I'd gained from corporealizing, dear. More than I used to have. Less than what I gained in Aefenglom. The harder the touch, the more I feel it.
[Pressure that increased also increased in sensitivity, and things outright painful felt the most intense he could get it. Mettaton sighs, thinking about the very first time he'd ever felt anything so bright that it blinded, which was... Wow. Fighting against Frisk. Unfortunate.
And now, that was about as intense as it got. Emet-Selch had introduced him to so much more, and Mettaton snorts, giving the Ascian's nipple a departing pinch before smoothing over his chest, letting the tips of claws graze along in his wake.]
I have a feeling my memory of all you've done to me will leave me aching for dizzying, increasing madness, as I am. It's a bit restrictive... But you know me, Hades. I derive pleasure in ways beyond touch.
[With a kiss to his jaw, Mettaton recalls how good at pulling Mettaton under Emet-Selch had been even when they first started going to bed together. They were effective on each other, and Mettaton shivered to think of how much he just loved Emet-Selch, and found their combining attractive.]
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You'd better miss it, honey! This body's as good as yours, and I expect you to love it as much as I do.
[And though it's a playful comment... there was perhaps some truth to it, as Mettaton knew Emet-Selch was fond of his form for a good many reasons. It made Mettaton more vulnerable than he would've been without a body—but thinking of himself without a body is simply abhorrent, and Emet-Selch knew that, too. It gave Mettaton so much more. It gave him clarity, confidence, and ways to interact with the world that he'd never had before.
It just wasn't equipped. And that fact is glaringly obvious between them, as between Mettaton thighs is a whole lot of nothing. His puca variant had at least brought with it the enhancement of sensation, if disturbing in its ways. The flesh and veins and organs that crept beneath the surface of silicone and metal... It would disturb any good mechanic, particularly the sorts who wanted to see no cyborgs.
Mettaton was a mess inside, even though he'd felt better and more vividly than ever. His puca variant was something to miss; to that, Mettaton hugs him tight. Against his skin, he interjects with a mutter.]
... I didn't mind it, either. All of the little things...
[... He does have that, anyway. Even if it's not quite so detailed, anatomically, and more of a magical manifestation. Mettaton partially shapeshifts into a rabbit—but it's only that much, with fur upon his hips, claws on fingertips, ears upon his head... and rabbit feet where heels once were. They'd find a way, and Mettaton nuzzles Emet-Selch deeply with an appreciative sound.]
Right now, [he starts, ears folding back;] It's about as much as I'd gained from corporealizing, dear. More than I used to have. Less than what I gained in Aefenglom. The harder the touch, the more I feel it.
[Pressure that increased also increased in sensitivity, and things outright painful felt the most intense he could get it. Mettaton sighs, thinking about the very first time he'd ever felt anything so bright that it blinded, which was... Wow. Fighting against Frisk. Unfortunate.
And now, that was about as intense as it got. Emet-Selch had introduced him to so much more, and Mettaton snorts, giving the Ascian's nipple a departing pinch before smoothing over his chest, letting the tips of claws graze along in his wake.]
I have a feeling my memory of all you've done to me will leave me aching for dizzying, increasing madness, as I am. It's a bit restrictive... But you know me, Hades. I derive pleasure in ways beyond touch.
[With a kiss to his jaw, Mettaton recalls how good at pulling Mettaton under Emet-Selch had been even when they first started going to bed together. They were effective on each other, and Mettaton shivered to think of how much he just loved Emet-Selch, and found their combining attractive.]