[If he was feeling sensory overload before, this is well past that. But he welcomes every bit of it, his fingers gripping against Emet-Selch's neck. Though there's no longer any worry for overheating with his repairs and developments, within his metal chassis is intensifying heat, and his mouth's just a hint of that heat. Mettaton reciprocates ardently: of all things, he's developed a sense for temperature with his taste, so this is more than a welcome surprise. From the deep kiss to his fingers boldly woven into his hair, entrapping him, Mettaton finds that it's more sensory input than his mind knows what to do with. But being drowned in what Emet-Selch has to offer is exhilarating. He wouldn't pull away even if he had the chance, but this somehow makes it better. He feels deep satisfaction from this, and it exudes from him.
The TV star isn't a fan of losing his composure, as a general rule. But this is one of those moments where he can't help but allow it. If Emet-Selch is going to lock him into this, he'll pull him in closer, holding him firm into the kiss right back with that hand against his neck. He's not the one who needs to breathe, but he is the one who is already pushed over the edge, here in public.
What a thing to say, too. Mettaton decides that it had better be an offer. That might be what gets to him the most.
And for Emet-Selch's reference: he tastes... weird. A mix of something chemically/ethereal, neutral enough for it not to bother Mettaton, but not normal. He has his Monster changes to blame for all odd deviations from being a machine.]
no subject
[If he was feeling sensory overload before, this is well past that. But he welcomes every bit of it, his fingers gripping against Emet-Selch's neck. Though there's no longer any worry for overheating with his repairs and developments, within his metal chassis is intensifying heat, and his mouth's just a hint of that heat. Mettaton reciprocates ardently: of all things, he's developed a sense for temperature with his taste, so this is more than a welcome surprise. From the deep kiss to his fingers boldly woven into his hair, entrapping him, Mettaton finds that it's more sensory input than his mind knows what to do with. But being drowned in what Emet-Selch has to offer is exhilarating. He wouldn't pull away even if he had the chance, but this somehow makes it better. He feels deep satisfaction from this, and it exudes from him.
The TV star isn't a fan of losing his composure, as a general rule. But this is one of those moments where he can't help but allow it. If Emet-Selch is going to lock him into this, he'll pull him in closer, holding him firm into the kiss right back with that hand against his neck. He's not the one who needs to breathe, but he is the one who is already pushed over the edge, here in public.
What a thing to say, too. Mettaton decides that it had better be an offer. That might be what gets to him the most.
And for Emet-Selch's reference: he tastes... weird. A mix of something chemically/ethereal, neutral enough for it not to bother Mettaton, but not normal. He has his Monster changes to blame for all odd deviations from being a machine.]