[(And squirm he would, though he huffs at the reply, briefly managing to hold still, to at least pretend to calm. It wouldn't last very long, not when he wanted to make up for... everything. Not when he was moved this powerfully.)
A whole heel, removed. It did remind him a bit of Mettaton's prior puca-hood. By the time he'd met him, his legs had already been consumed by those monstrous changes, made into something lagomorphic rather than robotic. Which had come with the unexpected benefit of choice... as puca were a natural part of that world, and any number of them would want fancy footwear that could accommodate their particular feet. The market existed, and Mettaton could join it.
Here, though, his pink heels were the same as his leg; there would be no removing them. Until now.
(A strange oversight on the part of his body's designer, Emet-Selch felt. Given the opportunity, he knew Mettaton would love an array of boots to switch into on a whim, even if he also loved his default look.
Another oversight, of course, was Mettaton's (lack of) fuckability... and a far more crucial one, in his opinion.)
But his thoughts don't dwell too far on this unexpected side-development when it came to his lover's ability to switch shoes, or the existence of a humanoid foot underneath his heel (rather than a nest of wiring and bolts). Curious of an upgrade(?) as it was, it was still not an erection, and nor did there seem to be one hiding in his boot either. (Thankfully.)
So where was it? The mage stared unashamedly at his lover's crotch between looking up to his face, waiting for it (or rather, Mettaton) to reveal its secrets.
--All to snort at Mettaton's reply.]
A wish for your respectability is beyond anyone's ability to grant. I wouldn't waste my time trying.
[It had occurred to him, that were Mettaton to obtain a permanent addition, it would necessitate... changes. More specifically, it would require his husband to wear pants, as while nude robots were acceptable, nude robots sporting a visible erection were distinctly not, when it came to the public sphere. Even so, he'd left it up to fate, chance, or the designs of their Overseer. Or Mettaton himself, even, if unconsciously, finding a solution that would be acceptable to him.
Heart racing enough for the both of them, his fingers dig into the fabric at his thighs, as Mettaton teases with a zipper, turning the question of Where Was Mettaton's Cock? into a premier show, a tease for them both as more 'skin' was revealed. All the way until- there. Unmistakably vivid, and deceptively hidden until it was given permission for the suggestion of freedom. For the briefest moment, Emet-Selch's eyes close, and he exhales a shuddered breath, and something akin to a moan with it.
...It worked. His wish had been accepted in its entirety, from his lover's ability to feel, to his ability to show off his wanting with the proper endowment. One that suited Mettaton in size, shape- even coloring, unnaturally pink as it was.
(Should he have wished for a penetrable ass with it, comes the passing thought- a wish for another time, he supposed, though this reveal of Mettaton's Pants would at least solve the problem of continued respectability, when it came to that point (or rather, hole) as well.)
And what a magical solution, he couldn't help but marvel at, eyes opening again to take him in, the thick length still held tight, but permitted the touch of air. Some magic had to have been given to his lover's 'pants', to hide what would have otherwise been an utterly indecent bulge. Even if Mettaton hadn't been erect, it would have been obvious. Distractingly obvious. But like this, he could tuck himself away with no one the wiser as to what he was packing... all to suffer with the mage, whenever he became aroused while contained. (A concept that pleases the Ascian immediately, terribly. Even if Mettaton would have the 'mercy' of being spared the risk of tenting fabric in public, he'd feel it all the same, just as he did.)
Swallowing, he glances up, looking back to Mettaton's face as he speaks, stricken with him. Complicated emotions remained, as was the nature of love and attachment- but the fierce ache of desire threaded through it all, regret not enough to outweigh it.]
I knew- I always knew, but....
[He knew how Mettaton wanted him. He didn't need a cock- or even sensitivity- for Emet-Selch to know it. But it had hurt them both, to not have it available, to not have something tangible to hold onto. Edging forward, nearly leaving the couch entirely, he reaches out to touch the robot's thigh, to skim fingers along the 'bared' part of it, skirting around his erection itself, for all that he longed to grasp it. There was so much- how many fantasies were there, that they could now make good on--]
--It still needs testing, though, don't you think?
[That he was now properly hard himself, Emet-Selch is only distantly aware of. A warmth, a faint dizziness given how quickly blood had been drawn low, but apart from the background pleasure of it, he doesn't think anything on it. The normal result, when he had Mettaton's erection available.]
no subject
A whole heel, removed. It did remind him a bit of Mettaton's prior puca-hood. By the time he'd met him, his legs had already been consumed by those monstrous changes, made into something lagomorphic rather than robotic. Which had come with the unexpected benefit of choice... as puca were a natural part of that world, and any number of them would want fancy footwear that could accommodate their particular feet. The market existed, and Mettaton could join it.
Here, though, his pink heels were the same as his leg; there would be no removing them. Until now.
(A strange oversight on the part of his body's designer, Emet-Selch felt. Given the opportunity, he knew Mettaton would love an array of boots to switch into on a whim, even if he also loved his default look.
Another oversight, of course, was Mettaton's (lack of) fuckability... and a far more crucial one, in his opinion.)
But his thoughts don't dwell too far on this unexpected side-development when it came to his lover's ability to switch shoes, or the existence of a humanoid foot underneath his heel (rather than a nest of wiring and bolts). Curious of an upgrade(?) as it was, it was still not an erection, and nor did there seem to be one hiding in his boot either. (Thankfully.)
So where was it? The mage stared unashamedly at his lover's crotch between looking up to his face, waiting for it (or rather, Mettaton) to reveal its secrets.
--All to snort at Mettaton's reply.]
A wish for your respectability is beyond anyone's ability to grant. I wouldn't waste my time trying.
[It had occurred to him, that were Mettaton to obtain a permanent addition, it would necessitate... changes. More specifically, it would require his husband to wear pants, as while nude robots were acceptable, nude robots sporting a visible erection were distinctly not, when it came to the public sphere. Even so, he'd left it up to fate, chance, or the designs of their Overseer. Or Mettaton himself, even, if unconsciously, finding a solution that would be acceptable to him.
Heart racing enough for the both of them, his fingers dig into the fabric at his thighs, as Mettaton teases with a zipper, turning the question of Where Was Mettaton's Cock? into a premier show, a tease for them both as more 'skin' was revealed. All the way until- there. Unmistakably vivid, and deceptively hidden until it was given permission for the suggestion of freedom. For the briefest moment, Emet-Selch's eyes close, and he exhales a shuddered breath, and something akin to a moan with it.
...It worked. His wish had been accepted in its entirety, from his lover's ability to feel, to his ability to show off his wanting with the proper endowment. One that suited Mettaton in size, shape- even coloring, unnaturally pink as it was.
(Should he have wished for a penetrable ass with it, comes the passing thought- a wish for another time, he supposed, though this reveal of Mettaton's Pants would at least solve the problem of continued respectability, when it came to that point (or rather, hole) as well.)
And what a magical solution, he couldn't help but marvel at, eyes opening again to take him in, the thick length still held tight, but permitted the touch of air. Some magic had to have been given to his lover's 'pants', to hide what would have otherwise been an utterly indecent bulge. Even if Mettaton hadn't been erect, it would have been obvious. Distractingly obvious. But like this, he could tuck himself away with no one the wiser as to what he was packing... all to suffer with the mage, whenever he became aroused while contained. (A concept that pleases the Ascian immediately, terribly. Even if Mettaton would have the 'mercy' of being spared the risk of tenting fabric in public, he'd feel it all the same, just as he did.)
Swallowing, he glances up, looking back to Mettaton's face as he speaks, stricken with him. Complicated emotions remained, as was the nature of love and attachment- but the fierce ache of desire threaded through it all, regret not enough to outweigh it.]
I knew- I always knew, but....
[He knew how Mettaton wanted him. He didn't need a cock- or even sensitivity- for Emet-Selch to know it. But it had hurt them both, to not have it available, to not have something tangible to hold onto. Edging forward, nearly leaving the couch entirely, he reaches out to touch the robot's thigh, to skim fingers along the 'bared' part of it, skirting around his erection itself, for all that he longed to grasp it. There was so much- how many fantasies were there, that they could now make good on--]
--It still needs testing, though, don't you think?
[That he was now properly hard himself, Emet-Selch is only distantly aware of. A warmth, a faint dizziness given how quickly blood had been drawn low, but apart from the background pleasure of it, he doesn't think anything on it. The normal result, when he had Mettaton's erection available.]