[He can only snort, shaking his head at Mettaton's reply. He knew he wasn't offering the usual intensity the idol could usually draw out from him without even trying. Interest was there, wanting was there, but it was hard to imagine being consumed by it, no matter how close Mettaton squirmed to him, against him.
And then those rabbit senses were tested. Emet-Selch waits for the verdict, without daring to hope that more would amount from this beyond the sensation of being kissed. And the touches were nice, pleasing and intimate... but he sighs anyway at the expected conclusion. Though he holds back from pointing out that having more places to touch didn't matter if Mettaton couldn't feel anything from them, it doesn't keep the disappointed tone from him.]
'Tis a familiar look, if nothing else.
[A full rabbit shapeshift... no. He might appreciate holding Mettaton like that at another point, but it was not sexy. Even the mention of it deflates him a little; was that really the best hope his lover had to feel anything? As a literal animal?
Claws dig into him, and Emet-Selch bites a sound back, not wanting to make things worse, but equally not wanting to pretend that he was content with what they had left to them. Without even their Bond, their souls and moods connected, they couldn't blend that way either- and no matter how close Mettaton pressed to him, they remained more distant than ever. Separate, in a way he didn't know how to reach past.
...The Bond really had been something of a crutch, when it came to expressing himself. Like this, he felt muted in a different way, even as he feels Mettaton shudder against his back, and he didn't know how or what to reassure him with. He takes a breath.]
It's fine. We'll manage.
[It's not enthusiasm, but it's a little better. A wanting to try, even if it made all the aches worse. And Mettaton's hands did feel good on him, claws and all, especially when they trail to his abdomen.]
You can... move lower than that.
[Voice lowering to a murmur, he pushes himself back against Mettaton's body, as if in an insistence to being held tighter, and his legs spread slightly.]
no subject
And then those rabbit senses were tested. Emet-Selch waits for the verdict, without daring to hope that more would amount from this beyond the sensation of being kissed. And the touches were nice, pleasing and intimate... but he sighs anyway at the expected conclusion. Though he holds back from pointing out that having more places to touch didn't matter if Mettaton couldn't feel anything from them, it doesn't keep the disappointed tone from him.]
'Tis a familiar look, if nothing else.
[A full rabbit shapeshift... no. He might appreciate holding Mettaton like that at another point, but it was not sexy. Even the mention of it deflates him a little; was that really the best hope his lover had to feel anything? As a literal animal?
Claws dig into him, and Emet-Selch bites a sound back, not wanting to make things worse, but equally not wanting to pretend that he was content with what they had left to them. Without even their Bond, their souls and moods connected, they couldn't blend that way either- and no matter how close Mettaton pressed to him, they remained more distant than ever. Separate, in a way he didn't know how to reach past.
...The Bond really had been something of a crutch, when it came to expressing himself. Like this, he felt muted in a different way, even as he feels Mettaton shudder against his back, and he didn't know how or what to reassure him with. He takes a breath.]
It's fine. We'll manage.
[It's not enthusiasm, but it's a little better. A wanting to try, even if it made all the aches worse. And Mettaton's hands did feel good on him, claws and all, especially when they trail to his abdomen.]
You can... move lower than that.
[Voice lowering to a murmur, he pushes himself back against Mettaton's body, as if in an insistence to being held tighter, and his legs spread slightly.]