[Was it a terrible thing to imagine? He frowns at the question, glancing aside. Of course it wasn't, as he naturally envisions it: Mettaton between his spread legs, tongue firm and warm against his erection, smearing melting sugar along his length. ...Which would be a mess, and with little to gain from the particular topping.]
--Suggestive aspect aside, the icing would only detract. Food and sex is an overrated combination.
[With Mettaton bracing his neck, Emet-Selch meets his eye again, despite the closeness of their faces. A closeness where a kiss would be readily achievable- but he holds off with a briefly caught breath; despite himself, his moods, Mettaton was awfully effective on him. Just the sight of him licking his lips was enticing, given the subject he'd just broached- for all that the mage would still prefer to leave out the icing.
As Mettaton chooses to add to the imagery, though, he lifts a hand to brush against the robot's side.]
An apron though- [He murmurs it, as if taking time to consider the sight it would make, assuming that he wouldn't be wearing much else.] if that's the worst you would ask me to don, I'll consider myself fortunate.
[Which was to say he grudgingly approved- or at least, accepted- the concept. With imagery being especially important now, to make up for what they were missing- not that they couldn't enjoy it at any time. Even so--]
However, in your case... Mettaton, you habitually wear nothing. [Unlike his own fine Amaurotine robes which left everything to the imagination, all of the robot was normally on display. Which he didn't mind gazing on- and didn't care that the world got to gaze on him too- but the idea of obscuring parts that were always there felt a touch absurd. ...Especially given anatomical limitations. But he's not about to say that part.] And if you were to be marked up, I would prefer it to be with something other than icing.
no subject
--Suggestive aspect aside, the icing would only detract. Food and sex is an overrated combination.
[With Mettaton bracing his neck, Emet-Selch meets his eye again, despite the closeness of their faces. A closeness where a kiss would be readily achievable- but he holds off with a briefly caught breath; despite himself, his moods, Mettaton was awfully effective on him. Just the sight of him licking his lips was enticing, given the subject he'd just broached- for all that the mage would still prefer to leave out the icing.
As Mettaton chooses to add to the imagery, though, he lifts a hand to brush against the robot's side.]
An apron though- [He murmurs it, as if taking time to consider the sight it would make, assuming that he wouldn't be wearing much else.] if that's the worst you would ask me to don, I'll consider myself fortunate.
[Which was to say he grudgingly approved- or at least, accepted- the concept. With imagery being especially important now, to make up for what they were missing- not that they couldn't enjoy it at any time. Even so--]
However, in your case... Mettaton, you habitually wear nothing. [Unlike his own fine Amaurotine robes which left everything to the imagination, all of the robot was normally on display. Which he didn't mind gazing on- and didn't care that the world got to gaze on him too- but the idea of obscuring parts that were always there felt a touch absurd. ...Especially given anatomical limitations. But he's not about to say that part.] And if you were to be marked up, I would prefer it to be with something other than icing.