[Emet-Selch often did enjoy this position... and the more the moment's disagreement dawns on Mettaton, with spite and continued frustration, right down to the way that Emet-Selch quits participating and even turns away, the more Mettaton realizes he'd really insulted Emet-Selch. There'd be moments later when the naturally-dominating and authoritative idol would realize just what he should have stopped to do (ask, as was often the issue, when Mettaton thought he understood the language of their bodies perfectly), but he's met with a frigid curtain that belies a heated core of anger.
And not of the heated kind. Yes, he knew Emet-Selch's devotion- but there was something different in its key. It rattles Mettaton; it interrupts his momentum.]
... I don't want you to injure yourself, darling. [His voice is easier; softer than his moans, more intimate in pitch.] I know some of it is inevitable... A bit of discomfort, for excellent gain. But I...
[He reaches out to him, brushing at long, white hair. They would've been joined by now; they could've been hasty, and Emet-Selch could've been seated on his root. But here they are, half-way together, with much left to go and much more than than between them, too much unsaid (especially on Mettaton's part, who acted before asking).
Mettaton soaks in that warmth of their bodies, the chill of Emet-Selch's heat into agitation rather than arousal. He wanted Emet-Selch's satisfaction too... and without thinking, he'd interrupted it. The satisfaction of claiming what's rightfully his, and from continuing to work them both into a mess: yes, Emet-Selch had been more than capable, even when Mettaton had felt he could somehow do better at keeping the smaller man more comfortable, to the same end. He traces his cheek, craning his upper body enough to try to watch his face.]
Hey... Hades. Would you grant me the chance to try again? To ask you... if you were alright like that, instead of... trying to keep from hurting you? And maybe, to find a way to keep you as comfortable as we can?
[He knew Emet-Selch's devotion. They wanted closeness; this was counterproductive to it, everything Mettaton did, because they were a couple who acted irrationally, who combined passionately- and Mettaton had been the one to step out of line, concerned too far about the day where Emet-Selch got too hurt, when their actions had repercussions more than they already have. His finger's trail along his jaw; his attenton is bright, if soft, erection stuffed just where Emet-Selch had left off.]
no subject
And not of the heated kind. Yes, he knew Emet-Selch's devotion- but there was something different in its key. It rattles Mettaton; it interrupts his momentum.]
... I don't want you to injure yourself, darling. [His voice is easier; softer than his moans, more intimate in pitch.] I know some of it is inevitable... A bit of discomfort, for excellent gain. But I...
[He reaches out to him, brushing at long, white hair. They would've been joined by now; they could've been hasty, and Emet-Selch could've been seated on his root. But here they are, half-way together, with much left to go and much more than than between them, too much unsaid (especially on Mettaton's part, who acted before asking).
Mettaton soaks in that warmth of their bodies, the chill of Emet-Selch's heat into agitation rather than arousal. He wanted Emet-Selch's satisfaction too... and without thinking, he'd interrupted it. The satisfaction of claiming what's rightfully his, and from continuing to work them both into a mess: yes, Emet-Selch had been more than capable, even when Mettaton had felt he could somehow do better at keeping the smaller man more comfortable, to the same end. He traces his cheek, craning his upper body enough to try to watch his face.]
Hey... Hades. Would you grant me the chance to try again? To ask you... if you were alright like that, instead of... trying to keep from hurting you? And maybe, to find a way to keep you as comfortable as we can?
[He knew Emet-Selch's devotion. They wanted closeness; this was counterproductive to it, everything Mettaton did, because they were a couple who acted irrationally, who combined passionately- and Mettaton had been the one to step out of line, concerned too far about the day where Emet-Selch got too hurt, when their actions had repercussions more than they already have. His finger's trail along his jaw; his attenton is bright, if soft, erection stuffed just where Emet-Selch had left off.]