[Too enamored to realize that his hand is still with traces (plenty) of come slicking him up (as that was the point to start), Mettaton unintentionally gets started on making Emet-Selch a mess. Because even though he's reaching for his neck, that still means transferring semen to skin, and letting it catch in hair... He'd have plenty of fodder for complaint at some later point, whenever Emet-Selch wished to bring it up.
For now, though, the robot doesn't realize what a mess he's making, too lost in the moment. Seconds that stretch, an eternity just for them found right here... Time didn't matter to him right now, right here, where sentiment ruled the day. They met in ways more than sexually, as even though their erections were slickly together, their bodies and hearts came together as well. Mettaton sighs, breathing the smaller man in; he wanted to smell him, but even the heat he could feel from his scalp felt like a scent all its own. This was more than perfect.
Of course, even Mettaton wasn't the sort to settle. He should be able to have it all... and he would agree that they deserved more than what he arrived here with. Even so, it's his point of insecurity: to ask the ghost of himself if he deserved a physical form would be met with hesitation, with a wistful dream but with the hesitation of deserving or not. And when his own body that he'd reached for failed to deliver... it tapped into that same insecurity.
He knew Emet-Selch knew he felt hurt by it all. It didn't change Emet-Selch's reaction, still. It didn't change his own fierce desire, and the equal hurt for lacking a sharp sense of touch, for lacking the equipment needed to engage his lover sexually. The want was all there... and the knowledge that he deserved more was, too. But the repeated rejection had stung; it had shaken his core, and made him weaker.
It wasn't, perhaps, the best way they could've dealt with it overall... but that was a thing of the past, and an issue no longer. Because the way they wanted to deal with it was by fixing it, and Mettaton was entirely on board with that. Holding Emet-Selch in his lap, he could feel their mutual loneliness soothed; he could feel their hearts beating together. It inspired, and the sensation of Emet-Selch burying himself into his neck some more, squirming closer. Even without words he understood.
But to hear it said... Mettaton sighs, shakily, overcome.]
Then let me fill yours days with my gratitude... and my love for you. [Twisting his head, the robot moves from burying himself into his scalp, and dips lower to kiss the side of his neck.] Anywhere I go, I want you to be there with me.
[His constant companion. Even if they couldn't be literally fused, as they'd attempted once (and nonsensically became split apart from), he would still see Emet-Selch always with him. It's what he wanted... even if it selfishly dragged the smaller man from his final rest.
In other words, Mettaton knew the gravity of being the meaning for Emet-Selch's continued existence. And he stood taller for it, lived stronger for it, and thought for the purpose of not just himself, but for Emet-Selch. Even his own wish made to the Overseer was with Emet-Selch in mind, after all... for it was a fail-safe. Should he ever be separated, should his powers be inadequate to cross the expanses of worlds (and he doubted that very much), he had his husband's heart in mind.
Without words, he knew they both knew of each other's dedication. And for it, he squeezes him tight, their hearts bared to one another, tenderness gripping them in the space between climaxes. But even still, Mettaton felt arousal course through him strongly, endearment enough to fuel a bodily response to claim, to take, to make his husband gasp and moan, and to feel his body tense and writhe. Mettaton makes a small, sweet hum, a series of kisses planted along his neck and down to the tip of his shoulder.]
no subject
For now, though, the robot doesn't realize what a mess he's making, too lost in the moment. Seconds that stretch, an eternity just for them found right here... Time didn't matter to him right now, right here, where sentiment ruled the day. They met in ways more than sexually, as even though their erections were slickly together, their bodies and hearts came together as well. Mettaton sighs, breathing the smaller man in; he wanted to smell him, but even the heat he could feel from his scalp felt like a scent all its own. This was more than perfect.
Of course, even Mettaton wasn't the sort to settle. He should be able to have it all... and he would agree that they deserved more than what he arrived here with. Even so, it's his point of insecurity: to ask the ghost of himself if he deserved a physical form would be met with hesitation, with a wistful dream but with the hesitation of deserving or not. And when his own body that he'd reached for failed to deliver... it tapped into that same insecurity.
He knew Emet-Selch knew he felt hurt by it all. It didn't change Emet-Selch's reaction, still. It didn't change his own fierce desire, and the equal hurt for lacking a sharp sense of touch, for lacking the equipment needed to engage his lover sexually. The want was all there... and the knowledge that he deserved more was, too. But the repeated rejection had stung; it had shaken his core, and made him weaker.
It wasn't, perhaps, the best way they could've dealt with it overall... but that was a thing of the past, and an issue no longer. Because the way they wanted to deal with it was by fixing it, and Mettaton was entirely on board with that. Holding Emet-Selch in his lap, he could feel their mutual loneliness soothed; he could feel their hearts beating together. It inspired, and the sensation of Emet-Selch burying himself into his neck some more, squirming closer. Even without words he understood.
But to hear it said... Mettaton sighs, shakily, overcome.]
Then let me fill yours days with my gratitude... and my love for you. [Twisting his head, the robot moves from burying himself into his scalp, and dips lower to kiss the side of his neck.] Anywhere I go, I want you to be there with me.
[His constant companion. Even if they couldn't be literally fused, as they'd attempted once (and nonsensically became split apart from), he would still see Emet-Selch always with him. It's what he wanted... even if it selfishly dragged the smaller man from his final rest.
In other words, Mettaton knew the gravity of being the meaning for Emet-Selch's continued existence. And he stood taller for it, lived stronger for it, and thought for the purpose of not just himself, but for Emet-Selch. Even his own wish made to the Overseer was with Emet-Selch in mind, after all... for it was a fail-safe. Should he ever be separated, should his powers be inadequate to cross the expanses of worlds (and he doubted that very much), he had his husband's heart in mind.
Without words, he knew they both knew of each other's dedication. And for it, he squeezes him tight, their hearts bared to one another, tenderness gripping them in the space between climaxes. But even still, Mettaton felt arousal course through him strongly, endearment enough to fuel a bodily response to claim, to take, to make his husband gasp and moan, and to feel his body tense and writhe. Mettaton makes a small, sweet hum, a series of kisses planted along his neck and down to the tip of his shoulder.]