[More than ever, he knew it was a mutual hesitation. Where there wouldn't have been any delay, any pause in the past to reach for each other, to be drawn in by looks, kisses, nearness itself, to indulge in wanting and need that felt endless... and with no regard for their surroundings. Not in terms of the mess they made, or the stains they might leave behind, not when they had so much to express.
And far less now, he supposed. It was a strange thing, to feel both pent up and completely ambivalent, wondering if he should get it over with and ask Mettaton to get him off somehow, but also not really wanting to. It wasn't as though he were without his own desires, and while he knew he'd drawn heavily on Mettaton's own needs- he hadn't thought it to be so absolute as this.]
A poor choice of kink.
[He responds absently, accepting the kiss without thinking to match it. And he remains still in the end, apathetic. A lack of certainty leading to a drain of energy- and he never had much of that to start with. Mettaton snuggles close, on a couch that really didn't fit the both of them, and he shifts in place, before settling back in the same position that he'd been to start with.
Exhales. Listens to the idea of being convinced into recklessness, without feeling much either way about it. Just loosely holds onto him.]
Maybe. [And where Mettaton's voice is hesitant, his own is distant, less a concession and more just not wanting to argue over it, not wanting to seek convincing. Not wanting to actively deny it. But with Mettaton's needs less pressing, his own dwindled. Were it not for their history, he wouldn't have thought anything of it, but as it was he was conscious of the difference. His eyes are closed.] Some other time.
no subject
And far less now, he supposed. It was a strange thing, to feel both pent up and completely ambivalent, wondering if he should get it over with and ask Mettaton to get him off somehow, but also not really wanting to. It wasn't as though he were without his own desires, and while he knew he'd drawn heavily on Mettaton's own needs- he hadn't thought it to be so absolute as this.]
A poor choice of kink.
[He responds absently, accepting the kiss without thinking to match it. And he remains still in the end, apathetic. A lack of certainty leading to a drain of energy- and he never had much of that to start with. Mettaton snuggles close, on a couch that really didn't fit the both of them, and he shifts in place, before settling back in the same position that he'd been to start with.
Exhales. Listens to the idea of being convinced into recklessness, without feeling much either way about it. Just loosely holds onto him.]
Maybe. [And where Mettaton's voice is hesitant, his own is distant, less a concession and more just not wanting to argue over it, not wanting to seek convincing. Not wanting to actively deny it. But with Mettaton's needs less pressing, his own dwindled. Were it not for their history, he wouldn't have thought anything of it, but as it was he was conscious of the difference. His eyes are closed.] Some other time.