[The level of excitement Mettaton showed at his half-acceptance over wearing an apron surprised. But as concessions or indulgences went, it felt a minor thing, something he didn't think he'd have any trouble with. Even if the specific appeal did little for him, if his lover's level of enthusiasm towards the actual show was anything like this, then it would likely be infectious enough to carry him along.
Icing, though. That, Emet-Selch was more dubious about. A mess no matter how they went about it, and a stickiness that was more of a nuisance than something he found sexy. It would be an awful lubrication, besides, which had been the actual point of it being there in the first place; might as well use glue, for all the use it would be.
Mettaton's smugness over it didn't help, and only develops his annoyance further, no matter how far the other man shuffled between his legs, nearly mounting him. He remained conscious still of the egg sequestered between them, something else he'd have to trouble himself with. No amount (or lack) of frosting would change that.]
The icing provokes me into nothing. [He insists against his lips, once Mettaton had released his own. Pleasant as the (notably dry) suck of his lip had been, it's not about to distract him.] It inspires me into imagining you washing it off... or the hassle it will make for me later if you don't.
[The smears and stains it would leave over furniture or bedding, that he might be finding days later, and that he couldn't use magic to clean off. ...Not that he'd cared in the past, when it had been come he'd been tidying off of everything, but that was different.]
And I still don't want it on me. [That was even worse, and getting to feel Mettaton's mouth on him wasn't enough to override that. Exasperation enters his tone, and he does nothing to answer his kisses.] If the prospect of sucking me is so unappealing that you require a treat you can't even taste, then I would prefer you not to even try.
[He knew this was all just fantasy, something that they weren't even currently up to, but he was in no mood to play with it, to pretend. Not when it would leave him with the possible future of icing being used as an actual component of their sex.]
no subject
Icing, though. That, Emet-Selch was more dubious about. A mess no matter how they went about it, and a stickiness that was more of a nuisance than something he found sexy. It would be an awful lubrication, besides, which had been the actual point of it being there in the first place; might as well use glue, for all the use it would be.
Mettaton's smugness over it didn't help, and only develops his annoyance further, no matter how far the other man shuffled between his legs, nearly mounting him. He remained conscious still of the egg sequestered between them, something else he'd have to trouble himself with. No amount (or lack) of frosting would change that.]
The icing provokes me into nothing. [He insists against his lips, once Mettaton had released his own. Pleasant as the (notably dry) suck of his lip had been, it's not about to distract him.] It inspires me into imagining you washing it off... or the hassle it will make for me later if you don't.
[The smears and stains it would leave over furniture or bedding, that he might be finding days later, and that he couldn't use magic to clean off. ...Not that he'd cared in the past, when it had been come he'd been tidying off of everything, but that was different.]
And I still don't want it on me. [That was even worse, and getting to feel Mettaton's mouth on him wasn't enough to override that. Exasperation enters his tone, and he does nothing to answer his kisses.] If the prospect of sucking me is so unappealing that you require a treat you can't even taste, then I would prefer you not to even try.
[He knew this was all just fantasy, something that they weren't even currently up to, but he was in no mood to play with it, to pretend. Not when it would leave him with the possible future of icing being used as an actual component of their sex.]