[Fortunately, the idyllic nature of his dream had nothing to do with skewing Emet-Selch's person. But it was a time where he himself was capable of being pleasured—and that was something presently lost, an immutable fact that Emet-Selch reminds him is true. He squeezes his eye closed.
Of course, it was still idealization. An escape he couldn't reach.
It wasn't him that Emet-Selch couldn't get off to, but the fact that he mourned, the fact that he was raw, the fact that they both missed something that couldn't be so easily attained, haunted them, and dampend their spirits. Sleep would permit him the relief of dreaming of a time where such obstacles weren't a thing... But when he considers it as an escape from life, he faces it with increasing resolution, and hurt to match.
But he feels soft while agitated, and sighs again up close to Emet-Selch. Sleep may have been a quick way out, but time would press onward. If Emet-Selch slept... Mettaton would content himself with remaining by his side. He would think; he would brainstorm. He would take action in the form of dreaming, which he knew he was so good at doing.
He pats Emet-Selch against his upper back, envisioning the way he'd once been capable of feeling the texture of warm skin under equally warm fingertips. He'd once been a human, after all... What was possible here? Mettaton knew he could cheer himself up—and he would, if not so that he could work on cheering Emet-Selch up, too. But he needed time.]
Oh, I'll show you what a little love can change. I... merely need to ponder it some more. [He squeezes Emet-Selch again, as he stretches both of his legs.] This is what we have. For now. But... I won't throw in the towel.
[Soon enough he would try to sleep, or pretend to. Practiced as he was, he could get sleep to give in to him, no matter how unsettled he remained.
It was possible that they could change things. Even Emet-Selch could agree to that hypothetical. Through that intensely dubious wishing method, they might be able to affect some improvement- if at a cost he didn't know how to gauge. How would he know when he'd earned enough to make a difference? And could he actually come up with a single wish that defined everything that was missing? Asking for Mettaton to be healed had been straightforward.
But when it came to precisely what they had now, he would be disinclined to try again. Even if felt called to arousal, it wouldn't be difficult to think back to this moment and remember exactly why to avoid it.]
Unless your pondering is in the form of begging our captor for a cock, nothing will be different at another time.
[Somewhat snidely said, though there's little energy behind it. It was far more than a cock that they needed.]
[It hadn't been a wish Mettaton was entertaining here, though he couldn't help but perk up a bit when he thought about the prospect of... wishing for a cock?? Oh, the trouble that would pose for his synthetic body... How would it be powered? Would vessels and nerves go to it? Where would the fluid come from to encourage an erection? Mettaton had gone through too much anatomy study for these details to escape him, where maybe once upon a time he would've dismissed them. He had to work for his ability to shapeshift.
(Now there was an idea... The ability to fully shapeshift! Nerves and all, and without any effort—wouldn't that mean that the skies were the limit?)
Wishes were an answer. But he knew with all of his heart that he'd started this encounter with true arousal, even if Emet-Selch couldn't feel it, couldn't hold it, couldn't swallow it. He knew he felt pleasure in his ways, and he would have to build up to a point where Emet-Selch could trust that—and find pleasure in the scene himself.
Still, he giggles lightly, heartened by the suggestion. It sounded absurd... if something that could really be wished for. What would be the harm?]
Now you're thinking big. [Offering up another kiss to his hairline, Mettaton rests his cheek atop his head.] We'll see. But don't lose heart in me, darling.
[Emet-Selch may be concretely sure that he would not find himself raring to try again, which meant that Mettaton knew he had his work cut out for him. That, or he'd require a wish that could bring him back to the way he was in Aefenglom... Or something.]
[There were a certain amount of practical absurdities for a wish like that. Would it always be there, on a body that normally went undressed? Would it have the same awful sensitivity as the rest of him? How would it fill or recede, or would it always be rigid? (Not unrealistic.) Would he be able to climax, to fill him with himself?
Emet-Selch doesn't think it through, a crude wish like that not worth it. Nor does he take much humor in Mettaton's show of it, though he mostly sighs again. Ignores it entirely. It would take some convincing to get him to come around to anything, and with little chance of success in his current frame of mind.]
Do you mind if I sleep? You can leave at any time, as you seem to prefer.
[As he continues to nurse a grudge over Mettaton not having been there when he revived.]
[Grudge: noted. But Mettaton only leaves because he knew he wouldn't be able to stand still—and he doesn't at all go far. First, he kisses the side of his head, warmly down his hairline and toward his ear—before parting, pulling himself away from Emet-Selch with a lingering touch.
But he only steps outside of the room to fetch a book. It's...
Flashing the cover as he re-enters after a short walk into the kitchen-ish area, it seems to be a novel version of something Mettaton likes... The very same title as the poster on his wall once upon a time, complete with two lovers grasping at each other longingly on the front cover. Not that Emet-Selch has seen it.]
Look! This was one of my favorite movies!! [Heartened, Mettaton returns to Emet-Selch's side. He does not intend to leave at all, but instead, he cuddles up in bed right next to his husband.] But it's actually a book! I've never read it before... As you might expect, the books in the Garbage Dump weren't very, ah, readable. It was in Waterfall, so...
[But this was a pristine copy, somehow. He flips through its pages, delighted to be holding a copy in his own hands.]
I was astounded to see it here! So... I'd like to read here, next to you.
[Even though he'd offered it as a suggestion, Mettaton leaving, he's startled all the same when the other man takes him up on it. Restless energy or not, it hurt anew to be abandoned- especially after that gentle touch to his hair, a kiss he could feel in all its warmth. But he offers no complaint, no reaction at all as he's left behind.
And once he's alone, he works himself underneath the covers, and rolls onto his stomach. Spreads out. Right in the middle of the modest bed, taking up as much space as he could, as he was presumably having it entirely to himself. Even when Mettaton returns, he does nothing to make it easier as the other man forces his way back into a cuddle.
...There was a small bit of relief that Mettaton wasn't immediately ditching him after all (and he didn't mind that his husband found entertainment for himself, as he wasn't so cruel as to expect him to lay there in silence and inactivity for hours). But it's still grudgingly that he turns his head to see what Mettaton had insisted on showing him: a movie that was also a book....
Where his own excitement was far less palpable (as it didn't exist), he merely frowns at it, before putting his head back face down.]
So long as you're not reading it out loud, do as you like.
[There was no way Mettaton would leave him. But he also respected himself too much to sit in idleness, even though he also knew he would use this space to think, to wonder, to ask himself how he might show Emet-Selch that even this body could be loved, and could bridge their desire for intimacy.
...For all other moments where a distraction was needed, though, he has this.
Emet-Selch flops and grumbles into the pillows. Mettaton didn't expect effusive enthusiasm out of the smaller man, and happily nudges him enough to take up his rightful half of the bed. And even works himself into a cuddle, fluffing the pillow behind himself and slinging an arm around Emet-Selch, inviting him to continue curling into him. (Almost demanding it, but he had the arm flexibility to let Emet-Selch remain posed as he wished.]
So you don't want to be lulled to sleep by my soothing voice... Or maybe, it would only keep you up. [Playfully offered, he still settles back, stretching his legs again in an attempt to quiet his ache.] I'll keep quiet, Hades. But then... you're a skilled sleeper. I trust you'll be every bit as capable of snoozing through anything.
[The bed is where he plans to stay for now. And stay he would, all the way until Emet-Selch next woke.]
[He had no trust that Mettaton wouldn't just leave him there (why wouldn't the other man be as petty as he, and take him up on an insincere offer?). Hence the staking claim on the bed... territory which the smaller man only reluctantly concedes when the robot nudges his way back into place, claiming pillows he couldn't use.
But he does refuse to curl against him again, tensing up at the bodily 'suggestion' of it, and practically digging into the mattress to not be dislodged further. (Once he fell asleep, he'd likely end up rolling over and burrowing into him.)]
A tone that strident would keep anyone awake. [It wasn't strident. And he could sleep through most things.] Just be quiet and I'll do the same.
[This wasn't a state where conversation would convince him of anything.]
[A sigh, hurt, is MTT's response to not curling into him. But the offer remains, if not to be taken advantage of in the deep of sleep. No, he wouldn't force it.
But he would stay. And especially as the Ascian found himself curled into him, the idol would remain, and drift between daydreaming, ruminating, and reading the lines that reminded him of the movie he used to watch. For now, though, he gives Emet-Selch's hair one brief comb-through with his free hand—which was very nice to have obtained once again.]
Sleep tight, Hades. And... thank you.
[For wishing. For trying with him. For anything he has done, and will do, even when it felt like everything hurt.]
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Of course, it was still idealization. An escape he couldn't reach.
It wasn't him that Emet-Selch couldn't get off to, but the fact that he mourned, the fact that he was raw, the fact that they both missed something that couldn't be so easily attained, haunted them, and dampend their spirits. Sleep would permit him the relief of dreaming of a time where such obstacles weren't a thing... But when he considers it as an escape from life, he faces it with increasing resolution, and hurt to match.
But he feels soft while agitated, and sighs again up close to Emet-Selch. Sleep may have been a quick way out, but time would press onward. If Emet-Selch slept... Mettaton would content himself with remaining by his side. He would think; he would brainstorm. He would take action in the form of dreaming, which he knew he was so good at doing.
He pats Emet-Selch against his upper back, envisioning the way he'd once been capable of feeling the texture of warm skin under equally warm fingertips. He'd once been a human, after all... What was possible here? Mettaton knew he could cheer himself up—and he would, if not so that he could work on cheering Emet-Selch up, too. But he needed time.]
Oh, I'll show you what a little love can change. I... merely need to ponder it some more. [He squeezes Emet-Selch again, as he stretches both of his legs.] This is what we have. For now. But... I won't throw in the towel.
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It was possible that they could change things. Even Emet-Selch could agree to that hypothetical. Through that intensely dubious wishing method, they might be able to affect some improvement- if at a cost he didn't know how to gauge. How would he know when he'd earned enough to make a difference? And could he actually come up with a single wish that defined everything that was missing? Asking for Mettaton to be healed had been straightforward.
But when it came to precisely what they had now, he would be disinclined to try again. Even if felt called to arousal, it wouldn't be difficult to think back to this moment and remember exactly why to avoid it.]
Unless your pondering is in the form of begging our captor for a cock, nothing will be different at another time.
[Somewhat snidely said, though there's little energy behind it. It was far more than a cock that they needed.]
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(Now there was an idea... The ability to fully shapeshift! Nerves and all, and without any effort—wouldn't that mean that the skies were the limit?)
Wishes were an answer. But he knew with all of his heart that he'd started this encounter with true arousal, even if Emet-Selch couldn't feel it, couldn't hold it, couldn't swallow it. He knew he felt pleasure in his ways, and he would have to build up to a point where Emet-Selch could trust that—and find pleasure in the scene himself.
Still, he giggles lightly, heartened by the suggestion. It sounded absurd... if something that could really be wished for. What would be the harm?]
Now you're thinking big. [Offering up another kiss to his hairline, Mettaton rests his cheek atop his head.] We'll see. But don't lose heart in me, darling.
[Emet-Selch may be concretely sure that he would not find himself raring to try again, which meant that Mettaton knew he had his work cut out for him. That, or he'd require a wish that could bring him back to the way he was in Aefenglom... Or something.]
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Emet-Selch doesn't think it through, a crude wish like that not worth it. Nor does he take much humor in Mettaton's show of it, though he mostly sighs again. Ignores it entirely. It would take some convincing to get him to come around to anything, and with little chance of success in his current frame of mind.]
Do you mind if I sleep? You can leave at any time, as you seem to prefer.
[As he continues to nurse a grudge over Mettaton not having been there when he revived.]
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[Grudge: noted. But Mettaton only leaves because he knew he wouldn't be able to stand still—and he doesn't at all go far. First, he kisses the side of his head, warmly down his hairline and toward his ear—before parting, pulling himself away from Emet-Selch with a lingering touch.
But he only steps outside of the room to fetch a book. It's...
Flashing the cover as he re-enters after a short walk into the kitchen-ish area, it seems to be a novel version of something Mettaton likes... The very same title as the poster on his wall once upon a time, complete with two lovers grasping at each other longingly on the front cover. Not that Emet-Selch has seen it.]
Look! This was one of my favorite movies!! [Heartened, Mettaton returns to Emet-Selch's side. He does not intend to leave at all, but instead, he cuddles up in bed right next to his husband.] But it's actually a book! I've never read it before... As you might expect, the books in the Garbage Dump weren't very, ah, readable. It was in Waterfall, so...
[But this was a pristine copy, somehow. He flips through its pages, delighted to be holding a copy in his own hands.]
I was astounded to see it here! So... I'd like to read here, next to you.
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And once he's alone, he works himself underneath the covers, and rolls onto his stomach. Spreads out. Right in the middle of the modest bed, taking up as much space as he could, as he was presumably having it entirely to himself. Even when Mettaton returns, he does nothing to make it easier as the other man forces his way back into a cuddle.
...There was a small bit of relief that Mettaton wasn't immediately ditching him after all (and he didn't mind that his husband found entertainment for himself, as he wasn't so cruel as to expect him to lay there in silence and inactivity for hours). But it's still grudgingly that he turns his head to see what Mettaton had insisted on showing him: a movie that was also a book....
Where his own excitement was far less palpable (as it didn't exist), he merely frowns at it, before putting his head back face down.]
So long as you're not reading it out loud, do as you like.
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...For all other moments where a distraction was needed, though, he has this.
Emet-Selch flops and grumbles into the pillows. Mettaton didn't expect effusive enthusiasm out of the smaller man, and happily nudges him enough to take up his rightful half of the bed. And even works himself into a cuddle, fluffing the pillow behind himself and slinging an arm around Emet-Selch, inviting him to continue curling into him. (Almost demanding it, but he had the arm flexibility to let Emet-Selch remain posed as he wished.]
So you don't want to be lulled to sleep by my soothing voice... Or maybe, it would only keep you up. [Playfully offered, he still settles back, stretching his legs again in an attempt to quiet his ache.] I'll keep quiet, Hades. But then... you're a skilled sleeper. I trust you'll be every bit as capable of snoozing through anything.
[The bed is where he plans to stay for now. And stay he would, all the way until Emet-Selch next woke.]
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But he does refuse to curl against him again, tensing up at the bodily 'suggestion' of it, and practically digging into the mattress to not be dislodged further. (Once he fell asleep, he'd likely end up rolling over and burrowing into him.)]
A tone that strident would keep anyone awake. [It wasn't strident. And he could sleep through most things.] Just be quiet and I'll do the same.
[This wasn't a state where conversation would convince him of anything.]
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But he would stay. And especially as the Ascian found himself curled into him, the idol would remain, and drift between daydreaming, ruminating, and reading the lines that reminded him of the movie he used to watch. For now, though, he gives Emet-Selch's hair one brief comb-through with his free hand—which was very nice to have obtained once again.]
Sleep tight, Hades. And... thank you.
[For wishing. For trying with him. For anything he has done, and will do, even when it felt like everything hurt.]