[Muttered. It's a Classic Mettaton Aside, knowable but barely audible, barely even mouthed, but spoken all the same, as though a thought making itself known in a way beyond words. He doesn't see his thoughts as optimism but just neutrality, the understanding that he could connect with Emet-Selch even without sex.
The Ascian isn't alone in not wanting to search for the root of their issues, complex as they are, and Mettaton takes the slightest hint of acceptance of his closeness to make a small sound, collapsing into the man beneath him. He buries his face deep in the crook of Emet-Selch's neck, squeezing his eye shut and breathing in his warmth, a tight frown pulling his lips.
He remembers again how Emet-Selch disliked the thought of one-sided performance of vulnerability, when Mettaton couldn't reciprocate those sensations of highs and lows; he makes a small sound again, nearly snarling as he resents being unable to perform. And now that he could, Emet-Selch wanted him to keep going—as MTT perceived him as more than disinterested, but upset enough to want to call it off before the commandeering idol could figure out how he'd erred, much less how he could make things better, if not right.
...Which is proven untrue, when Emet-Selch claims that it isn't grudgingly he would take him. Another misunderstanding on MTT's part. The monster stills, blinking slowly in the Emet-Selch-darkness, safe at his neck. When he lifts his head, his gaze is clear, inquisitive.]
Not grudgingly... So. Had I kept going... leaving how I upset you unaddressed. You would have preferred that?
[That's easy for MTT to do, if he were dealing with most anyone else. But not for Emet-Selch; no, apparently there was no toleration to be found, not that MTT sees that clearly. There was still so much they weren't seeing eye-to-eye on, and Mettaton isn't equipped with the same mindset Emet-Selch has to see it; he is ever the optimist, after all, and what would he do if his wavelength wasn't matched? Himself ahead, Emet-Selch lagging behind... To leave Emet-Selch behind seems like it goes against even their vows--
But the relief in being bodily accepted, even reluctantly, is obvious. Calming. Despite not having muscle, the robot practically pushes into Emet-Selch, defensive tension leaving him that must have come around the time that he'd been called out on his blunder. He still felt his apology truly; he knows that once again, he'd taken action after failing to ask Emet-Selch first. ...They were just severely lacking in lubricant, and that sucked. And yet times before, Emet-Selch had taken more than he could seemingly handle...
Contemplative, Mettaton wonders- only retrospectively- if he was overreaching, just in case. A, as he'd put it, misguided sense of concern. He's come to learn too much of bodily frailties... but perhaps this wouldn't have been one? As far as his body relaxes, Mettaton allows himself to think briefly on this, all while similarly shifting just to get closer to Emet-Selch. (Was this where his toleration required flexibility, too...? Yet the Ascian would be the first to serve himself up for dinner if Mettaton had ever hungered (for blood and flesh)- He sighs just thinking about it, fond and exasperated.)]
no subject
[Muttered. It's a Classic Mettaton Aside, knowable but barely audible, barely even mouthed, but spoken all the same, as though a thought making itself known in a way beyond words. He doesn't see his thoughts as optimism but just neutrality, the understanding that he could connect with Emet-Selch even without sex.
The Ascian isn't alone in not wanting to search for the root of their issues, complex as they are, and Mettaton takes the slightest hint of acceptance of his closeness to make a small sound, collapsing into the man beneath him. He buries his face deep in the crook of Emet-Selch's neck, squeezing his eye shut and breathing in his warmth, a tight frown pulling his lips.
He remembers again how Emet-Selch disliked the thought of one-sided performance of vulnerability, when Mettaton couldn't reciprocate those sensations of highs and lows; he makes a small sound again, nearly snarling as he resents being unable to perform. And now that he could, Emet-Selch wanted him to keep going—as MTT perceived him as more than disinterested, but upset enough to want to call it off before the commandeering idol could figure out how he'd erred, much less how he could make things better, if not right.
...Which is proven untrue, when Emet-Selch claims that it isn't grudgingly he would take him. Another misunderstanding on MTT's part. The monster stills, blinking slowly in the Emet-Selch-darkness, safe at his neck. When he lifts his head, his gaze is clear, inquisitive.]
Not grudgingly... So. Had I kept going... leaving how I upset you unaddressed. You would have preferred that?
[That's easy for MTT to do, if he were dealing with most anyone else. But not for Emet-Selch; no, apparently there was no toleration to be found, not that MTT sees that clearly. There was still so much they weren't seeing eye-to-eye on, and Mettaton isn't equipped with the same mindset Emet-Selch has to see it; he is ever the optimist, after all, and what would he do if his wavelength wasn't matched? Himself ahead, Emet-Selch lagging behind... To leave Emet-Selch behind seems like it goes against even their vows--
But the relief in being bodily accepted, even reluctantly, is obvious. Calming. Despite not having muscle, the robot practically pushes into Emet-Selch, defensive tension leaving him that must have come around the time that he'd been called out on his blunder. He still felt his apology truly; he knows that once again, he'd taken action after failing to ask Emet-Selch first. ...They were just severely lacking in lubricant, and that sucked. And yet times before, Emet-Selch had taken more than he could seemingly handle...
Contemplative, Mettaton wonders- only retrospectively- if he was overreaching, just in case. A, as he'd put it, misguided sense of concern. He's come to learn too much of bodily frailties... but perhaps this wouldn't have been one? As far as his body relaxes, Mettaton allows himself to think briefly on this, all while similarly shifting just to get closer to Emet-Selch. (Was this where his toleration required flexibility, too...? Yet the Ascian would be the first to serve himself up for dinner if Mettaton had ever hungered (for blood and flesh)- He sighs just thinking about it, fond and exasperated.)]