[He can't think all over again. With Mettaton's own sense of desire compounded with Emet-Selch's need, this would surely have been the point where Mettaton couldn't stop himself... If the Ascian hadn't forced their contact to an abrupt halt.
There's need, yearning, surprise, and... grief. Emet-Selch feels so much, and it's affective in how it makes Mettaton soften. In return, he can only press his fingertips together in the wake of the body he's lost, biting his lip and restraining himself from being anything but socially acceptable. He's forced to smooth himself over, though it takes a shudder and the physical separation of them, apparently. That was a lot, and it continues to be a lot. Embarrassing, how little he's able to reign himself in. He smiles, once more fond, though he can't quite rid himself of desire.]
Forgive me, darling. Will you? You're... [On a sigh,] more difficult to give up than I anticipated.
[Having him pulled from his arms feels empty, oddly, and he feels off-kilter after having had somebody flush to his body for a good spell. He wants him back, even when he knows this is for the best.
Mettaton leans half-way against the booth, clearly trying to pull himself together.]
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There's need, yearning, surprise, and... grief. Emet-Selch feels so much, and it's affective in how it makes Mettaton soften. In return, he can only press his fingertips together in the wake of the body he's lost, biting his lip and restraining himself from being anything but socially acceptable. He's forced to smooth himself over, though it takes a shudder and the physical separation of them, apparently. That was a lot, and it continues to be a lot. Embarrassing, how little he's able to reign himself in. He smiles, once more fond, though he can't quite rid himself of desire.]
Forgive me, darling. Will you? You're... [On a sigh,] more difficult to give up than I anticipated.
[Having him pulled from his arms feels empty, oddly, and he feels off-kilter after having had somebody flush to his body for a good spell. He wants him back, even when he knows this is for the best.
Mettaton leans half-way against the booth, clearly trying to pull himself together.]