[The paradoxical dance they stepped in tandem to involved the disconnect they felt from their bodies, right alongside the overwhelming awareness of it. And the fact that they were on the same page entirely was similarly paradoxical, given how apart it all felt. Mettaton feels his kiss lacking reciprocation. He feels his stillness, his drain... and it's contagious.
The robot slumps. Some other time. Emet-Selch shuts it down for now, but even Mettaton believed it would have to be some other time to start.
(That it might even have to wait until he could satisfy his husband with something he doesn't natively have. Like he couldn't satisfy an audience without a body he didn't natively have. Mettaton trips himself up about anatomy; he trips himself into wanting more.)
He closes his eye too. He's not politely drawn back, still bent over slightly, but he practically curls around the egg and slightly to the side. He relaxes, but it's a bit of a pitiful sort of relaxing that comes from drain.]
Maybe so.
[A resignation. Mettaton's hope didn't exist. It required kindling; it wasn't a spark self-sustained, not as he is. Similarly pent up, Mettaton keeps the egg between them, and the two of them inadvertently nurse that growing dragon with their feelings of unease.
He wanted to kiss him deeper. He closes his eyes and thinks about the ways he wants him, and the ways he wanted to show him he wanted him... The ways he wanted to arouse Emet-Selch, and satisfy him. And he feels helpless to show it, or to perform. (Ridiculousness. He would've never been so self-conscious before...)]
no subject
The robot slumps. Some other time. Emet-Selch shuts it down for now, but even Mettaton believed it would have to be some other time to start.
(That it might even have to wait until he could satisfy his husband with something he doesn't natively have. Like he couldn't satisfy an audience without a body he didn't natively have. Mettaton trips himself up about anatomy; he trips himself into wanting more.)
He closes his eye too. He's not politely drawn back, still bent over slightly, but he practically curls around the egg and slightly to the side. He relaxes, but it's a bit of a pitiful sort of relaxing that comes from drain.]
Maybe so.
[A resignation. Mettaton's hope didn't exist. It required kindling; it wasn't a spark self-sustained, not as he is. Similarly pent up, Mettaton keeps the egg between them, and the two of them inadvertently nurse that growing dragon with their feelings of unease.
He wanted to kiss him deeper. He closes his eyes and thinks about the ways he wants him, and the ways he wanted to show him he wanted him... The ways he wanted to arouse Emet-Selch, and satisfy him. And he feels helpless to show it, or to perform. (Ridiculousness. He would've never been so self-conscious before...)]