[He frowns, Emet-Selch's words suggesting something grim.
Walls erected, Emet-Selch returns to his guarded nature, a wounded core easy for someone like Mettaton to spot. He knows him; he loves him. This situation wasn't a far cry from what they've been encountering for months, where Mettaton attempted to act cheerily despite his lover's deep-seated upset; when his optimism seemed to rub Emet-Selch the wrong way, as he attempted to let Emet-Selch feel how he felt without letting it sink him too. Was he being guarded in his own way? Yes, and even Mettaton's belatedly realizing it. They were too invested in each other to not let the other feel their feelings; it was hard, when the feeling was sour versus sweet, when their disparate natures battled and grated.
And the only way they could apparently connect... Mettaton's frown deepens.]
Why, because I don't want to leave you, Hades. Because I believe we can be close, even if we're not fucking. I have believed that for months... for months, every time you shut me out.
[Because it hurt; because Mettaton wanted physical closeness too, and it was hard to accept that they couldn't have it in the same way. But he wanted it all the same, and surely they were capable of it...
Here, they have that ability for physical intimacy. He'd been so eager to pin Emet-Selch back, and to see his reaction to a beloved position- given that he was also preventing Emet-Selch from rushing them, and hurting himself. He hadn't been prepared for that reaction to be spite and frustration, and restoring him to that position hadn't occurred to Mettaton. Now, it was being left all in his ballpark, and when Emet-Selch didn't want a part, he was performing on his own. He could... but he preferred performing together.
MTT closes his eye before opening it again, no pretense of performance. He sheds the effusive optimism for a hopefulness that just comes naturally to him. Both of his arms shift, hands shimmying their way beneath Emet-Selch's neck, to gently embrace him around his shoulders.]
My depth inside you... isn't the only way I feel your heart. When you're upset, I want to be there for you... and if I've caused it, I want to do right by you. But really. Heavens, darling, you can't expect me to blissfully and ignorantly keep pounding you, all to achieve bodily closeness that you're only tolerating. [Which hadn't been the case before Mettaton had taken charge of Emet-Selch's self-destructiveness, attempting to avert a future of any torn tissue... If he'd stopped him just to ask, would Emet-Selch have disregarded his concerns? It was hard to say. Mettaton sighs.]
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Walls erected, Emet-Selch returns to his guarded nature, a wounded core easy for someone like Mettaton to spot. He knows him; he loves him. This situation wasn't a far cry from what they've been encountering for months, where Mettaton attempted to act cheerily despite his lover's deep-seated upset; when his optimism seemed to rub Emet-Selch the wrong way, as he attempted to let Emet-Selch feel how he felt without letting it sink him too. Was he being guarded in his own way? Yes, and even Mettaton's belatedly realizing it. They were too invested in each other to not let the other feel their feelings; it was hard, when the feeling was sour versus sweet, when their disparate natures battled and grated.
And the only way they could apparently connect... Mettaton's frown deepens.]
Why, because I don't want to leave you, Hades. Because I believe we can be close, even if we're not fucking. I have believed that for months... for months, every time you shut me out.
[Because it hurt; because Mettaton wanted physical closeness too, and it was hard to accept that they couldn't have it in the same way. But he wanted it all the same, and surely they were capable of it...
Here, they have that ability for physical intimacy. He'd been so eager to pin Emet-Selch back, and to see his reaction to a beloved position- given that he was also preventing Emet-Selch from rushing them, and hurting himself. He hadn't been prepared for that reaction to be spite and frustration, and restoring him to that position hadn't occurred to Mettaton. Now, it was being left all in his ballpark, and when Emet-Selch didn't want a part, he was performing on his own. He could... but he preferred performing together.
MTT closes his eye before opening it again, no pretense of performance. He sheds the effusive optimism for a hopefulness that just comes naturally to him. Both of his arms shift, hands shimmying their way beneath Emet-Selch's neck, to gently embrace him around his shoulders.]
My depth inside you... isn't the only way I feel your heart. When you're upset, I want to be there for you... and if I've caused it, I want to do right by you. But really. Heavens, darling, you can't expect me to blissfully and ignorantly keep pounding you, all to achieve bodily closeness that you're only tolerating. [Which hadn't been the case before Mettaton had taken charge of Emet-Selch's self-destructiveness, attempting to avert a future of any torn tissue... If he'd stopped him just to ask, would Emet-Selch have disregarded his concerns? It was hard to say. Mettaton sighs.]