You can save taking me apart for another day, when we're feeling kinky. ❤️ I'll be overjoyed to oblige...
[Without argument, Mettaton knows that this was a job for the two of them, if he was going to task himself with it at all. And he feels determined to help, another purpose added to his myriad of other purposes Mettaton found it easy to collect even in foreign worlds.
The robot barges into his own home. He often does this, and it always feels like barging, as he throws the door open dramatically. From the doorway- and even though he could simply glance to the side, as it's not as though the house is large, and that the sofa is far from the entryway- he calls out foor Emet-Selch.]
Yoo-hoo! Hades? Ah. There you are. You did move!
[Which is to say, that he moved from one room to another. From bed, to couch. Mettaton practically skips to his side, heels moving from the click of wood to the dampening of an area rug that still needs replacing. (There are a lot of decor options that still need replacing, as Mettaton's ability to gain income was only so swift, and he meticulously balances where he ought to allocate his shards given its limitations.) And there, he forces himself a seat on the couch.
If Emet-Selch is reclining, Mettaton merely scoots his butt at the edge of the sofa until he can crowd the smaller man back. This is how it is. There is no boundary between lovers. In his arms is an egg, about the size of a bowling ball cradled against metal.
And there, it is placed in Emet-Selch's lap. Mettaton knows that is a warm spot to die for, and the fondness on his face is paired with a tongue sticking out from his lips in determined focus. He knows what to do.]
no subject
You can save taking me apart for another day, when we're feeling kinky. ❤️ I'll be overjoyed to oblige...
[Without argument, Mettaton knows that this was a job for the two of them, if he was going to task himself with it at all. And he feels determined to help, another purpose added to his myriad of other purposes Mettaton found it easy to collect even in foreign worlds.
The robot barges into his own home. He often does this, and it always feels like barging, as he throws the door open dramatically. From the doorway- and even though he could simply glance to the side, as it's not as though the house is large, and that the sofa is far from the entryway- he calls out foor Emet-Selch.]
Yoo-hoo! Hades? Ah. There you are. You did move!
[Which is to say, that he moved from one room to another. From bed, to couch. Mettaton practically skips to his side, heels moving from the click of wood to the dampening of an area rug that still needs replacing. (There are a lot of decor options that still need replacing, as Mettaton's ability to gain income was only so swift, and he meticulously balances where he ought to allocate his shards given its limitations.) And there, he forces himself a seat on the couch.
If Emet-Selch is reclining, Mettaton merely scoots his butt at the edge of the sofa until he can crowd the smaller man back. This is how it is. There is no boundary between lovers. In his arms is an egg, about the size of a bowling ball cradled against metal.
And there, it is placed in Emet-Selch's lap. Mettaton knows that is a warm spot to die for, and the fondness on his face is paired with a tongue sticking out from his lips in determined focus. He knows what to do.]
There. Warmth, AND our doting care.