[It's the sob more than anything else that makes Mettaton stop his movements. His hands, which had started to creep their way up and under Bucky's shirt, pause in their tracks, his gloved fingers gentle against his skin.
He buries his head into Bucky's shoulder and is silent for a moment. He can't think straight. Bucky has become so willing, so submissive, so compliant in his arms and he wants nothing more than to touch and taste and feel everything he can take from the man-
But.
This is not Bucky. This is not the Bucky he knows Bucky wants to be. This is not the man that he is.... that he cares for.
Mettaton is not the person he wants to be for him.
He finally lifts his head, his hands slipping out from Bucky's shirt to cradle the man's face. His thumbs softly stroke his cheeks and he looks him in the eyes.]
I...
[It's hard. It's too hard, too quick, his mind reeling. It feels like he's drowning, swimming desperately for the surface as the undertow pulls him down, back to the murky depths below. He can't say sorry now. How do you say sorry for this?
He's hurt him. He never wanted to hurt him. He shouldn't have let himself get like this, and even now he can barely do anything, can't even apologize and tell him that he deserves better because the thought of ripping his clothes off and fucking him until he screams his name loud enough for the entire realm to hear keeps him rooted in place.
Finally he moves, wanting so desperately to press his lips against Bucky's, shower him in small, delicate kisses. He resists, instead leaning down and pressing their foreheads together.]
no subject
He buries his head into Bucky's shoulder and is silent for a moment. He can't think straight. Bucky has become so willing, so submissive, so compliant in his arms and he wants nothing more than to touch and taste and feel everything he can take from the man-
But.
This is not Bucky. This is not the Bucky he knows Bucky wants to be. This is not the man that he is.... that he cares for.
Mettaton is not the person he wants to be for him.
He finally lifts his head, his hands slipping out from Bucky's shirt to cradle the man's face. His thumbs softly stroke his cheeks and he looks him in the eyes.]
I...
[It's hard. It's too hard, too quick, his mind reeling. It feels like he's drowning, swimming desperately for the surface as the undertow pulls him down, back to the murky depths below. He can't say sorry now. How do you say sorry for this?
He's hurt him. He never wanted to hurt him. He shouldn't have let himself get like this, and even now he can barely do anything, can't even apologize and tell him that he deserves better because the thought of ripping his clothes off and fucking him until he screams his name loud enough for the entire realm to hear keeps him rooted in place.
Finally he moves, wanting so desperately to press his lips against Bucky's, shower him in small, delicate kisses. He resists, instead leaning down and pressing their foreheads together.]
Not here. Not like this.
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