[Emet-Selch has all but forgotten about their reptilian charge, politely staying out of the way and taking the opportunity to nap (a habit it 'inherited' honestly). His only reminder is the sight of the dragon-made tattoo, which had translated itself in as approximate a location as it had been on the rectangle (which implied that those pieces of metal were the same, somehow...). There was still no explanation for that, for why it happened, or if it served any purpose beyond aesthetics.
But the mage paid it only as much thought and attention as it deserved as a part of Mettaton's body- and he had the whole rest of him to appreciate as it was. Even though, aside from the glowing rings and their center light that looked as though it would be hot to the touch, everything seemed normal. Familiar, and undoubtedly attractive to him- especially when he caught his lover's smile, when their eyes briefly met, and the rest of the world bled away.
It felt as though some restraint, whether conscious or instinctive, defensive, had dissolved in him. Even if it might have been battered down in time, to look at Mettaton now and see him responding to the stimulus of existing in an aroused state, and to know how he would react to his touch, whether delicate or desperate- inspired more wanting than he thought he could bear. Desire was something that could be given into now, rather than denied- and for a moment, Emet-Selch wondered just who would be doing the devouring- but that they would be tearing into one another was a foregone conclusion.
And yet, there was no visible erection (and Emet-Selch was near certain that it would be an erection at this point, given the energy between them; though he wasn't yet fully hard himself, he was moving quickly in that direction, even if his body was ever one to lag behind). Even though Mettaton behaved as though there was, a heaviness between his thighs to bear the pressure that built in him, there was nothing to be seen. Breathlessly, he hums at the idol's description.]
More than look, I know the way it feels. All the discomfort you've caused me, while leaving me restricted for far too long.
[Though he also did appreciate the sight, of his erection growing firm, insistent enough to be visible through fabric, an outline that demanded to be noticed and spoke of his attention. But if Mettaton was feeling something like that, there was no sign of it, no tell-tale bulge... and why would there be? The silicone there wasn't fabric that could be tented... not in any non-permanent way.
But it wasn't a shapeshift either. Though he couldn't see, nor feel, the process behind the robot's given magics, he assumed he'd be feeling out for some new instinct having been implanted in him. Yet no cock emerged, so it wasn't that.
But something was going on, a process of discovery and sensation that he could only imagine, but it was enough to keep him from becoming disheartened, to resign himself to a (literally) anticlimactic end. He would trust in what Mettaton was feeling out- a trust that was soon rewarded when the robot found... something?]
It's--
[...removable? The Ascian simply stares as Mettaton discovers a heretofore unknown (and nonexistant) seam on his hip. A carefully crafted zipper, near-impossible to spot unless one were looking for something there- and with it, a permanently-grafted boot was suddenly not so permanent after all. Brows growing no less furrowed at this development, the smaller man unconsciously leans forward, scooting towards the edge of the couch to get a better look. To watch... whatever was happening.]
no subject
But the mage paid it only as much thought and attention as it deserved as a part of Mettaton's body- and he had the whole rest of him to appreciate as it was. Even though, aside from the glowing rings and their center light that looked as though it would be hot to the touch, everything seemed normal. Familiar, and undoubtedly attractive to him- especially when he caught his lover's smile, when their eyes briefly met, and the rest of the world bled away.
It felt as though some restraint, whether conscious or instinctive, defensive, had dissolved in him. Even if it might have been battered down in time, to look at Mettaton now and see him responding to the stimulus of existing in an aroused state, and to know how he would react to his touch, whether delicate or desperate- inspired more wanting than he thought he could bear. Desire was something that could be given into now, rather than denied- and for a moment, Emet-Selch wondered just who would be doing the devouring- but that they would be tearing into one another was a foregone conclusion.
And yet, there was no visible erection (and Emet-Selch was near certain that it would be an erection at this point, given the energy between them; though he wasn't yet fully hard himself, he was moving quickly in that direction, even if his body was ever one to lag behind). Even though Mettaton behaved as though there was, a heaviness between his thighs to bear the pressure that built in him, there was nothing to be seen. Breathlessly, he hums at the idol's description.]
More than look, I know the way it feels. All the discomfort you've caused me, while leaving me restricted for far too long.
[Though he also did appreciate the sight, of his erection growing firm, insistent enough to be visible through fabric, an outline that demanded to be noticed and spoke of his attention. But if Mettaton was feeling something like that, there was no sign of it, no tell-tale bulge... and why would there be? The silicone there wasn't fabric that could be tented... not in any non-permanent way.
But it wasn't a shapeshift either. Though he couldn't see, nor feel, the process behind the robot's given magics, he assumed he'd be feeling out for some new instinct having been implanted in him. Yet no cock emerged, so it wasn't that.
But something was going on, a process of discovery and sensation that he could only imagine, but it was enough to keep him from becoming disheartened, to resign himself to a (literally) anticlimactic end. He would trust in what Mettaton was feeling out- a trust that was soon rewarded when the robot found... something?]
It's--
[...removable? The Ascian simply stares as Mettaton discovers a heretofore unknown (and nonexistant) seam on his hip. A carefully crafted zipper, near-impossible to spot unless one were looking for something there- and with it, a permanently-grafted boot was suddenly not so permanent after all. Brows growing no less furrowed at this development, the smaller man unconsciously leans forward, scooting towards the edge of the couch to get a better look. To watch... whatever was happening.]
Is it in your leg?
[What even. That's not where cocks went.]