[How strange it was, to see Emet-Selch so clearly enamored when the months before he'd been distant. Mettaton couldn't tell if it was because he was feeling the world in so many shades of texture, that it felt more intense to him, or if... the smaller man really had shrugged off his reservations. And those reservations would be about Mettaton, about their ability to bond with each other when they lacked passionate physicality. Though there was a difference here, a significant one that Mettaton wasn't about to ignore.
He himself felt more overwhelmingly aroused than he had in months. It was no fault of his companion or even his vivid imagination... but rather, how far his body could perform that feature. It hadn't been designed to do that. (Though the promise to make him 'fuckable' was definitely there, if made by a particular scientist who... he didn't want to think too far about, lest he miss her too sharply. (Mettaton also only knew about this because he dug through her papers, and found some plans and very, very scrawly writing. She seemed flustered.) But that aside notwithstanding,) with the agumentation wished into being by his very own husband...
Mettaton sighs at the sight of him, distracted from removing his... skin. Or, feet. Shoes. It reminded him a little of when he was a Puca, and had rabbit-like feet... but somehow, the world's seen fit to give him his beloved pink heels as a replacement, as though simply modifying the design of his body. Could the Crystal really do all of this? Mettaton sighs with a silly smile even as Emet-Selch regards him with confusion, thinking all the while of their heated tangos with Emet-Selch pitching tents in his trousers, all for Mettaton to tease into continued existence with playful nudges of his thigh, or the sultry suggestion of what-he-wanted-to-do-to-him's.
He has to mumble in response, just for Emet-Selch to know.]
I love seeing you squirm, my dear.
[And he loved making him squirm some more. Then, he loved indulging him for his wait, and hearing him cry out as he's subdued, overcome... God, Mettaton realizes. Even he himself felt as though his shackles had been shed- because there wasn't a thought he felt he couldn't make good on! He brightens visibly--
Though he still has the task of finding that erection he's so sure he feels. (How cruel would it be, to give a phantom cock to a ghost? Mettaton knew he'd have to clear that maze just to track down Mr. Vaeros, and demand he fix it immediately.) When Emet-Selch starts, his proclamation makes Mettaton laugh.]
I don't know, beautiful! But let's find out, shall we? It seems I've underwent some sneaky changes... [Moving his attention from his shoe to meet Emet-Selch's eyes, he smirks.] Let's hope they're upgrades, rather than downgrades.
[His shoe is slipped off- not entirely an unusal sight, given his tenure as a Puca. But the foot beneath is not one of fur, but something entirely foreign to Mettaton. Humanoid, but plastic, it has... toes. It has an arch to its foot, and whatever metal framework makes him up is coated in fine white silicone. Sculpted to perfection, his calves are sheathed in black- and that, Mettaton realizes, is a curiosity indeed. He snorts.]
This is the first time I realized I was wearing pants. Are you sure you didn't wish for my decency, darling? [It's a tease, as he's been victim before of the accusation of his clothesless self. Robots don't need clothes! But with a hum, he contemplates this change- and the sensation he felt, hot in his thighs.] And if I did develop our desired equipment... it would be necessary...
[Skin-tight latex pants. That is the Mettaton Way now. But if he had something hidden there, if Emet-Selch wasn't being specific... perhaps it made sense that the universe (or the Overseer, clever and possibly fashionable man he is) sought to grant Mettaton propriety. Which still didn't explain the lack of notice to the front of his new 'pants,' but he suspends his thoughts to move along. After all, Emet-Selch is watching- closely.
It's with natural showiness that Mettaton takes to that zipper, leaving his other heel on. (They uncovered the mysteries of Removable Shoes, it was time to discover Removable Pants, even if it left him off-kilter.) He bares more of what would become his newly naked thigh, still snow white silicone all the way down to his mid-thigh. But whatever else there was to discover, the two of them have a presently burning question- and that was if he had Emet-Selch's wish granted.
Mettaton meets Emet-Selch's eye, still unable to keep still, as he shifts his hips, pressing his legs together. Emet-Selch's lean for him was enchanting, and Mettaton sought to see his wishes granted, with all his heart. Dislodging the silicone from his waist (what a flawless fit; it had to be magic), Mettaton knew his heart would be pounding in anticipation to behold what he feels should be there, even while he questions how it would be possible at all. Shimmying them slightly down his hips is all it takes, as the robot shows himself off mid-strip for Emet-Selch.
As well as the brilliant, if magically deceptive, sight of his erection. Latex hugs the shaft tight, its bulbous tip swollen and heated, as Mettaton halts his stripping half-way down his hips. Those pants must be hot and magic, because there was no indication of this, an obvious, thick arch tight against Mettaton's body- and with a flush that is bright, hot pink, of all things. Who needs to have "natural" coloring when you're a robot themed in blacks, pinks, whites, and silvers??
Mettaton swallows, lips parted as he gives Emet-Selch a look. His wish had worked. It worked, if manifesting differently than expected- but his size, his girth, the exhibition of his overall arousal- Mettaton can do nothing but smile, woozy and wordless.]
Hades, I... God, I wanted this, for you to see... [All of how much he craved him. That's what he yearned for him to know, and this was a means for him to communicate that.]
no subject
He himself felt more overwhelmingly aroused than he had in months. It was no fault of his companion or even his vivid imagination... but rather, how far his body could perform that feature. It hadn't been designed to do that. (Though the promise to make him 'fuckable' was definitely there, if made by a particular scientist who... he didn't want to think too far about, lest he miss her too sharply. (Mettaton also only knew about this because he dug through her papers, and found some plans and very, very scrawly writing. She seemed flustered.) But that aside notwithstanding,) with the agumentation wished into being by his very own husband...
Mettaton sighs at the sight of him, distracted from removing his... skin. Or, feet. Shoes. It reminded him a little of when he was a Puca, and had rabbit-like feet... but somehow, the world's seen fit to give him his beloved pink heels as a replacement, as though simply modifying the design of his body. Could the Crystal really do all of this? Mettaton sighs with a silly smile even as Emet-Selch regards him with confusion, thinking all the while of their heated tangos with Emet-Selch pitching tents in his trousers, all for Mettaton to tease into continued existence with playful nudges of his thigh, or the sultry suggestion of what-he-wanted-to-do-to-him's.
He has to mumble in response, just for Emet-Selch to know.]
I love seeing you squirm, my dear.
[And he loved making him squirm some more. Then, he loved indulging him for his wait, and hearing him cry out as he's subdued, overcome... God, Mettaton realizes. Even he himself felt as though his shackles had been shed- because there wasn't a thought he felt he couldn't make good on! He brightens visibly--
Though he still has the task of finding that erection he's so sure he feels. (How cruel would it be, to give a phantom cock to a ghost? Mettaton knew he'd have to clear that maze just to track down Mr. Vaeros, and demand he fix it immediately.) When Emet-Selch starts, his proclamation makes Mettaton laugh.]
I don't know, beautiful! But let's find out, shall we? It seems I've underwent some sneaky changes... [Moving his attention from his shoe to meet Emet-Selch's eyes, he smirks.] Let's hope they're upgrades, rather than downgrades.
[His shoe is slipped off- not entirely an unusal sight, given his tenure as a Puca. But the foot beneath is not one of fur, but something entirely foreign to Mettaton. Humanoid, but plastic, it has... toes. It has an arch to its foot, and whatever metal framework makes him up is coated in fine white silicone. Sculpted to perfection, his calves are sheathed in black- and that, Mettaton realizes, is a curiosity indeed. He snorts.]
This is the first time I realized I was wearing pants. Are you sure you didn't wish for my decency, darling? [It's a tease, as he's been victim before of the accusation of his clothesless self. Robots don't need clothes! But with a hum, he contemplates this change- and the sensation he felt, hot in his thighs.] And if I did develop our desired equipment... it would be necessary...
[Skin-tight latex pants. That is the Mettaton Way now. But if he had something hidden there, if Emet-Selch wasn't being specific... perhaps it made sense that the universe (or the Overseer, clever and possibly fashionable man he is) sought to grant Mettaton propriety. Which still didn't explain the lack of notice to the front of his new 'pants,' but he suspends his thoughts to move along. After all, Emet-Selch is watching- closely.
It's with natural showiness that Mettaton takes to that zipper, leaving his other heel on. (They uncovered the mysteries of Removable Shoes, it was time to discover Removable Pants, even if it left him off-kilter.) He bares more of what would become his newly naked thigh, still snow white silicone all the way down to his mid-thigh. But whatever else there was to discover, the two of them have a presently burning question- and that was if he had Emet-Selch's wish granted.
Mettaton meets Emet-Selch's eye, still unable to keep still, as he shifts his hips, pressing his legs together. Emet-Selch's lean for him was enchanting, and Mettaton sought to see his wishes granted, with all his heart. Dislodging the silicone from his waist (what a flawless fit; it had to be magic), Mettaton knew his heart would be pounding in anticipation to behold what he feels should be there, even while he questions how it would be possible at all. Shimmying them slightly down his hips is all it takes, as the robot shows himself off mid-strip for Emet-Selch.
As well as the brilliant, if magically deceptive, sight of his erection. Latex hugs the shaft tight, its bulbous tip swollen and heated, as Mettaton halts his stripping half-way down his hips. Those pants must be hot and magic, because there was no indication of this, an obvious, thick arch tight against Mettaton's body- and with a flush that is bright, hot pink, of all things. Who needs to have "natural" coloring when you're a robot themed in blacks, pinks, whites, and silvers??
Mettaton swallows, lips parted as he gives Emet-Selch a look. His wish had worked. It worked, if manifesting differently than expected- but his size, his girth, the exhibition of his overall arousal- Mettaton can do nothing but smile, woozy and wordless.]
Hades, I... God, I wanted this, for you to see... [All of how much he craved him. That's what he yearned for him to know, and this was a means for him to communicate that.]