[So he'd given in, repeatedly; at best, Emet-Selch had accepted that he always would. He couldn't move on, couldn't accept what they had left without persistent grief. Even while Mettaton had approached him less often with the more physical forms of intimacy (and that the smaller man had tried to view them as something other than an attempted prelude to sex), Emet-Selch had felt less relief, and more guilt. A reminder of what he wasn't doing- which of course did little to put him in the mood for anything. But he'd tried to offer affection, contact, to not withdraw as he had been, if with only mixed success. It was a process.
And it hurt, from every angle. Even wishing wasn't a painless thing.
But right now, it was worth it; if there was hurt to follow, he could dwell on it later, could fail to work out the more complicated feelings that went with this wish being granted. That he did it on his own went without saying, to him; he'd stubbornly told Mettaton that he would restore everything they needed, with his own shards, without help. This... just happened to be first. What felt the most important to bring back, somehow.
And to enhance it? More than he ever had. While he hadn't expressly wished for that, something that went beyond what Mettaton had experienced as a robotic puca, it was a positive bonus, and the mage makes a small noise against him. Presses his lips to the top of the rectangle, while he shifts in place, wanting to arch into the pet of his spine, to soak in every touch, just as Mettaton was doing with him. Melding into him, it was a plea for closeness more than it was a demand, and for all that it was his own fault that he felt so bereft of it... it wouldn't stop him from reaching out now, for holding and touching him now, with a grip that might bruise himself.
Although... this hadn't been all that he'd wished for. It was enough, though; he wasn't disappointed. Knowing that Mettaton could hold him, could experience the world with him in greater depth- if that was the entirety of what he'd been granted, he wouldn't resent it.
Barely managing to loosen his grip as Mettaton comments on it, he strokes tensely down his sides. It's not quite awkward, but there's a heavy kind of silence to him, as he weighs whether to ask about it.]
...It wasn't only your sensation that I wished for.
[He says it like a confession, lips against smooth metal. The grip of his arms tight enough to leave angled imprints through the sleeves of his robe, his fingers rub more absently at Mettaton as he hesitates. He hadn't specified how he'd wanted Mettaton to, well, have access to a cock. He'd tried more specific wishes in the past, and been ignored. In case that was the problem, he left it vague. Heartfelt, but vague. Which also meant he didn't know how this part of his wish would choose to manifest, if it even would.]
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And it hurt, from every angle. Even wishing wasn't a painless thing.
But right now, it was worth it; if there was hurt to follow, he could dwell on it later, could fail to work out the more complicated feelings that went with this wish being granted. That he did it on his own went without saying, to him; he'd stubbornly told Mettaton that he would restore everything they needed, with his own shards, without help. This... just happened to be first. What felt the most important to bring back, somehow.
And to enhance it? More than he ever had. While he hadn't expressly wished for that, something that went beyond what Mettaton had experienced as a robotic puca, it was a positive bonus, and the mage makes a small noise against him. Presses his lips to the top of the rectangle, while he shifts in place, wanting to arch into the pet of his spine, to soak in every touch, just as Mettaton was doing with him. Melding into him, it was a plea for closeness more than it was a demand, and for all that it was his own fault that he felt so bereft of it... it wouldn't stop him from reaching out now, for holding and touching him now, with a grip that might bruise himself.
Although... this hadn't been all that he'd wished for. It was enough, though; he wasn't disappointed. Knowing that Mettaton could hold him, could experience the world with him in greater depth- if that was the entirety of what he'd been granted, he wouldn't resent it.
Barely managing to loosen his grip as Mettaton comments on it, he strokes tensely down his sides. It's not quite awkward, but there's a heavy kind of silence to him, as he weighs whether to ask about it.]
...It wasn't only your sensation that I wished for.
[He says it like a confession, lips against smooth metal. The grip of his arms tight enough to leave angled imprints through the sleeves of his robe, his fingers rub more absently at Mettaton as he hesitates. He hadn't specified how he'd wanted Mettaton to, well, have access to a cock. He'd tried more specific wishes in the past, and been ignored. In case that was the problem, he left it vague. Heartfelt, but vague. Which also meant he didn't know how this part of his wish would choose to manifest, if it even would.]