[Which counted as ownership, though his haughtiness over it is half-hearted. He did love it, and loved besides what it meant to Mettaton to have it. Even if it stayed permanently limited like this, he would love it and restore it any time anything happened to damage him (which would hopefully be infrequent).
There weren't any convenient mirrors in sight, so it's only when he feels the faint graze of claws, the suggestion of fur against skin, that he realizes that he'd changed. Twisting his neck a little, he catches the familiar long ears atop his husband's head, before settling back, into those nuzzles.]
Do those changes add to what you can feel? I don't want to have to become a wolf again to get you to notice me.
[He mutters, remembering how Mettaton had cried out when he'd bitten him. Even if he couldn't remember what he'd said, some sounds didn't require translation.
But he knew that touch wasn't the sole component in their effectiveness on each other. (Or taste, or scent...) Yet he'd been spoiled by it, and though their first times together in bed hadn't included any ability to shapeshift, they had included heightened sensitivity on the puca's part. And... they hadn't known any better. They'd still been exploring one another, deepening their investment by degrees.
And even then they'd ached for more.
Turning his head slightly into that kiss, he tries to defer that sense of being disheartened already. He wasn't even the one lacking sensation... but he was the one aspected to negativity. Holding back a sigh, trying to focus on the elevation of his pulse, the firmness of his own cock, the interest in his body for the other man. His love for his company.]
no subject
[Which counted as ownership, though his haughtiness over it is half-hearted. He did love it, and loved besides what it meant to Mettaton to have it. Even if it stayed permanently limited like this, he would love it and restore it any time anything happened to damage him (which would hopefully be infrequent).
There weren't any convenient mirrors in sight, so it's only when he feels the faint graze of claws, the suggestion of fur against skin, that he realizes that he'd changed. Twisting his neck a little, he catches the familiar long ears atop his husband's head, before settling back, into those nuzzles.]
Do those changes add to what you can feel? I don't want to have to become a wolf again to get you to notice me.
[He mutters, remembering how Mettaton had cried out when he'd bitten him. Even if he couldn't remember what he'd said, some sounds didn't require translation.
But he knew that touch wasn't the sole component in their effectiveness on each other. (Or taste, or scent...) Yet he'd been spoiled by it, and though their first times together in bed hadn't included any ability to shapeshift, they had included heightened sensitivity on the puca's part. And... they hadn't known any better. They'd still been exploring one another, deepening their investment by degrees.
And even then they'd ached for more.
Turning his head slightly into that kiss, he tries to defer that sense of being disheartened already. He wasn't even the one lacking sensation... but he was the one aspected to negativity. Holding back a sigh, trying to focus on the elevation of his pulse, the firmness of his own cock, the interest in his body for the other man. His love for his company.]
We can see how far we get, I suppose.
[Enthusiasm.]