A/N: By popular demand, here she is! STRONG content warning for explicit adult content, so proceed with caution if you're someone who is uncomfortable with that. I would also like to mention that this is unedited and unaltered from it's original state (minus some glaring grammatical errors), so you're getting it in all of it's rough-draft glory.  _______________________________________________

Well, it was a nice day. That nice feeling ended right after dinner, when your father finally brought up the topic of Frisk, namely how excited he was to bring her back home. You had almost forgotten completely about that, but now the fear was all rushing back to you. Struggling to keep your composure, you muttered that it wasn't really the best time to discuss it.

"I don't understand, why can't I talk about bringing Frisky back home?" He asked. It was unfair. You shouldn't be talking to him like that.

"Because, it, it's just going to become an argument and I'd really rather not have to fight with you over this," you said through half-gritted teeth. You felt the familiar cotton-clad hand over your own, just like he had done the other day at the restaurant.

"I don't see why it should be an argument," your father remarked.

Ohhh, now your patience was wearing thin. Even the gentle pressing on your hand from Mettaton was unable to soothe you. But, instead of saying anything, you chewed at your lip to help you keep quiet and squeezed harder at Mettaton's hand.

"Well, we are going to talk about it, anyway," your father said, far too blasé for your liking. Your grip grew even tighter as you nodded stiffly. Briefly, in the very back of your mind, you hoped it didn't hurt him, although he was made of metal. It was probably hurting you more than anything.

Frisk, likely noticing the obvious tension, piped up with a story that she had from school and began a conversation that was far less tense and charged with anger. Bless her soul. You were able to ease up on you strangle-hold on Mettaton's hand and forced a smile onto your face. Now you would have to suffer through this meal while you knew that at the end you'd lose your sister again.

All too soon, your father was standing and giving you a meaningful look. Regretfully, and feeling every bit like an ashamed child caught breaking the rules, you released Mettaton's comforting hand and followed your father as he walked into your room. Your breath was held and your head hung, looking at your feet.

"Well?" You asked as you closed the door, already annoyed and trying your damnedest to keep your temper in check.

"There is no need to take that tone with me. Listen, I'm grateful that you took care of Frisk, but I have to bring her back home," your father said, his voice calm and even.

"Dad, you're not in a good place to be taking care of her," you appealed, bringing your arms defensively to your chest.

He paused, "I, I am okay now. I'm okay now."

"But," you faltered.

"I'm your father anyway. You don't get to decide this."

"I'm not a kid! And I can tell that it isn't a good idea for you to have Frisk!" You snapped. You hadn't meant to, but you couldn't take it back after you shouted.

"This isn't up for discussion!" He raised his voice, and you shrunk backwards, sitting on the edge of your bed.

You took measured breaths, speaking with forced calm, "Well, you can't just bring her home today. You can't just, there's stuff that you have to do."

"Then next week?"

You but your lip and nodded, focusing your gaze on the ground.

"Hey, honey, it's not that terrible. It'll just be back to how things have always been, before we lost her."

"Yes, Dad," you muttered quietly, allowing him to hug you.

"I have to get home before it's too late," he said, "I'll see you next week."

You waved a brisk goodbye, not caring that your attitude was more than unfair. He stepped out, and you laid down, curling up on your side. You knew this would happen sooner or later. You knew. It wasn't like it was a complete surprise. It wasn't that bad. You were overreacting. It wasn't that bad. It really wasn't. You were just being stupid again and-

"Darling?" You heard Mettaton speak. You didn't answer, hoping desperately that he would go away. You just wanted to be left to yourself so you could wallow in self pity.

"He left, darling." You heard footsteps and felt the bed cave in next to you. Sighing, you turned over to face him.

"Oh, so you just invite yourself into my bed now," you joked with a humourless voice.

"If I recall, beautiful, you told me not so long ago that I am welcome in whenever I please," He responded, looking down at you.

He was right. "Yeah. I did." You let your eyes flicker away from his, and for a moment you felt the sting of tears behind your eyes. You spoke to keep yourself from crying in front of him, "So, um, whatcha doing here?"

"You didn't come back out. I wanted to make sure that my, that you were okay." He explained. He probably hoped that you didn't notice his stutter. You noticed it, but ignored it.

"I am. I-I'm good," you lied.

"Sweetheart..."

"I'm fine, Glitterbot." You laughed nervously. This was stupid. "Really, I am."

"Are you certain?"

You tried to speak, but choked over your words and instead nodded your head.

"Can I," He moved the slightest bit closer to you and stroked his knuckles over your cheek, "Can I stay, just to make sure?"

Your heart fluttered, and you took an extra little breath. A pause. "Please."

He smirked, shifting so that he was lying facing you. Subconsciously, you pulled him closer to yourself, hearing the whirring of the fan next to your ear.

"Eager much, my lovely?" He grinned down at you, and you found yourself unable to tear your gaze from his smile, and the little fangs that he was showing off, and his lips were just so cute and- oh my goodness, not again. Your heart kept deciding that you wanted to kiss Mettaton again long before your mind agreed. This was just going to be a thing now, wasn't it?

"Hello, darling? Anyone home?"

You broke from the trance with a start, "Huh? Oh, sorry. Sorry, I, uh, I just kind of spaced and, yeah. Sorry."

"I heard you apologize the first time, darling."

"Yeah." Awkward laugh, awkward laugh... Dig for conversation topics...

"So, um..." Oh, brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

"So?" He raised his eyebrow, once again stroking your cheek. But he didn't move his hand away again. Instead, he dragged it over your jaw, resting his fingers briefly over your chin. Your breathing hitched as he did so, caught in surprise. You were unable to answer him. You were unable to really do much except lie frozen in his embrace. Why were you here? Why was he here? You couldn't remember. You couldn't be bothered to remember and you couldn't be bothered to care. All that had ever existed or ever would exist was this, here, now. For a moment he was close, and you anticipated it. You anticipated his lips against your own again, and you felt your breathing become just that tiny bit more labored.

He hesitated a moment, almost scared. You playfully rolled your eyes and stretched yourself to meet him in a quick kiss. At least, the first one was quick. But then he pressed his lips to yours again. And again. And he didn't stop, holding you against him and allowing you to tangle your fingers into his synthetic hair as his lips danced with yours. His fangs nipped at your bottom lip affectionately, and only then did it register in your mind that he was on top of you now, straddling your hips cautiously so as not to crush you. His lips traveled down to your neck as his hands slid up from your waist, slipping under your shirt.

You instinctively yelped at his cold hands against your skin, and pulled away, laughing at yourself and covering your face in your hands. He smirked as he peered down at you from under his fringe, and then he laughed along with you. At the moment, you weren't scared of losing Frisk, or scared of becoming too close to Mettaton. You weren't scared of being hurt.

"Here I was thinking that I was being romantic, and you just completely ruin it," he pouted, only resulting in your increased laughter.

"Don't blame me," you protested between breaths, "That was one hundred percent your fault, Glitterbot." You poked his forehead playfully.

"If you say so, darling," he replied. He gave you a quick kiss on the tip of your nose and moved so that he was no longer on top of you. "But denial is the first step of acceptance."

"You are making no sense whatsoever right now," you said, the gales of laughter subsiding, looking at his pretty little smile.

"I am too," he protested, crossing his arms, "I think you're just not understanding me."

"You're right, I'm not. That's because you are talking nonsense," you similarly argued, sitting up and folding your arms to mirror his own. You let yourself smirk at him jokingly.

"Must we really fight over this?" He asked, bending over you again.

"Yes, we must," you sighed.

"Are you sure that there's no way we could call a truce?" He continued, licking his bottom lip and winking. He knew what he was doing to you. He knew well and he was enjoying watching your struggle. How sadistic of him to do so, to taunt you and laugh as you suffered at the hands of fear and indecisiveness.

You were too quick to respond, "Maybe... for the right price." You blushed. That was terrible. You were awful at flirting and now it was showing.

Mettaton didn't seem to mind, though. He laughed, clear and loud, and you were suddenly afraid that Frisk would hear and become suspicious of your activities.

"Oh, darling, you're positively adorable. I would pay whatever you ask of me," he said, still chuckling to himself.

"Well then, shall we say 500 and you're no longer incompetent?"

"I'm afraid I don't have that," he lamented, a playful pout on his face. You weren't entirely sure where this was going or what had even begun, but it was slightly funny. That was good. Keep it as a little running joke that he has to pay you but he can't so you get to call him an idiot until he does.

"But, I'm sure we can compromise, hmm?" He offered, getting dangerously close to you once more, inspiring heat to flood your senses and making you turn your head away from him. It's obvious where he's trying to take it. Maybe you didn't exactly know his intentions, but his primary goal wasn't secret. He was going out on a limb here, and you were more than certain that you had no plan to shoot him down.

"What did you have in mind?" You asked, attempting to achieve what you hoped was a flirtatiously coy smile. You couldn't tell if it worked, but Mettaton smiled, so that was a good sign.

"Perhaps," his nose nuzzled into your neck and you gasped involuntarily before grinning warmly as he went on, "I could compensate you in affection?"

You had a feeling that this was where you would end up, but once you got there, you weren't sure at all what to do. So you giggled stupidly, hoping that he'd understand your awkward cry for help because this was a brand new situation and you weren't sure how to handle it.

Fortunately, he correctly interpreted your nervous laughter and made a further offer, "If you would like, I could give you an example, lovely."

You were silent for a full three seconds while you worded your response, settling eventually on, "If you wouldn't mind."

Mettaton grinned brightly. "Of course not, my dear." He then hesitated, almost nervous (thank goodness you weren't the only one), and then continued in lower tones, "If I'm going to far, my darling, then just-"

"That's sweet Glitterbot," you cut him off, maybe just a little rudely, and assured him, "But I think I'll be okay."

His grin grew, the very tips of the fangs exposed, and then they were on your neck, nibbling oh so gently and enticing you to lean your head further to the opposite side so he could have more room.

"We're quite eager today, aren't we, sweetheart?" He remarked, and you snorted unattractively in response.

He returned to the nibbling and soft sucking on your neck shortly after the comment, leaving you tilting your head to the side and with almost imperceptibly speeding breath. His teeth and lips and tongue and everything were just captivating to you, and it was a sensation far beyond any that you'd felt before.

He was just barely over you, more to your side than anything, and yet you didn't feel trapped. You felt safe and protected and adored and just right.

You didn't allow yourself to start until his hands were firmly planted on your hips and you felt the fabric of your pants pulled down ever so slightly.

"Mettaton!" You exclaimed in surprise, meeting his wide, startled eyes as he jerked his head up from your neck.

"Are you alright, beautiful? I mean, was everything okay?" He asked, obviously concerned and caring and dear holy saints and angels you honestly may have just fallen in love with him in that moment.

"No, or yes. It's all good, I was just not expecting it, was all," you reassure him.

He didn't seem convinced yet, "Are you positive, love? If you want to stop then I am more than willing to."

"Mettaton, honey," you weren't sure why you used the pet name but it sounded nice in reference to him, "Relax, alright? I'm absolutely, completely down for this." You weren't sure where it was coming from, but you were grateful for this new attitude, because it seemed like it was leading you straight into this robot's pants.

"If you say so, my love." He kissed you on the lips before you had a chance to fully process the term of endearment he had used, and were too invested in the clashing of tongues and lips to question it by the time it did register.

As your hands went up in order rest comfortably in his mass of synthetic fibers, his own hooked in the waistband of your jeans and went lower until they were at least at your knees. You could feel his soft fingertips barely tickle your thighs and smiled into the still very much occurring kiss.

But then his lips left yours in a sloppy departure and traveled down, down your neck, to your collarbone, to your clothed chest and down to your stomach, at which he pulled up your shirt and smirked at you as his now warm hands grazed over your skin before he pressed a few quick kisses to your belly. You were reminded of how this had started and chuckled to yourself.

But that chuckle was replaced by a gasp as his lips pressed to your thighs on his journey south. You squirmed under his touch, meaningfully wiggling your hips as a sign that he should get on with it already.

He denied you playfully, purposely taking his mouth from your lower region and sitting back on his calves.

"Ugh, are you serious," you complained, hot and annoyed and beyond ready for him to get on with it.

"Oh, alright," he seemed to concede, but his mouth didn't return to where you wanted it. Instead he pecked his lips to your nose childishly.

"Come on," you whined in a quite infantile manner, no longer really caring if you seemed desperate.

"What, that's not what you expected?" He smiled coyly. Honestly, he'd be lucky if you didn't throttle him, at this point.

"You know what I want," you said, wishing you weren't blushing as hard as you felt you were.

"And what is that, darling?"

"You."

"Ah-ah, you need to be more specific," he teased you.

You sighed, pointedly looking away from him, "Please, I like, I can't right now. I just-"

"If you don't tell me..."

"Fine!" You exclaimed, "Fine. I want, oh goodness, I want to be treated, I want you to make me feel loved."

"How precious," he muttered, then louder, "I promise I'll do my best, my love."

He sent a quick wink your way before bringing his head back down to where it was before, this time slipping your jeans off of your legs, struggling quite obviously with the tight denim. You couldn't hide your laughter this time, and he chuckled as well. Just as quickly as you had been however, you hushed yourself, and he got the hint and quieted as well.

"We completely forgot about Frisk," you reminded him, "She's probably heard most of this."

Oh crap. Oh crap crap crap. Your little sister catching you flirting with Mettaton, or him being cute to you, or even the brief kisses was one thing. Frisk potentially catching you having sex with Mettaton was something else entirely. That was a level of embarrassment that no one should ever have to experience. You had been fine doing stuff with Mettaton before, but it was risky now that you remembered that.

Mettaton appeared conflicted for a moment, before asking, "Should we stop?"

"Goodness, no," you answered vehemently, "But maybe just make sure to keep it down."

"That's going to be more your issue than mine," he pointed out and, yeah, he was right. If someone was going to ruin it by letting Frisk in on the secret, it was going to be you.

"I'll figure it out," you reassured him, and he shrugged after a moment, rubbing at you through your underwear.

This... this was going to be harder than you thought.

Already you were finding yourself using hidden reserves of strength to keep yourself quiet.

He pulled down the cotton underwear, allowing you to kick it off, and spread your legs with his hands. You bit down on your lip in preparation and he ran his tongue along your most sensitive part. Despite your best efforts, a small whine escaped your throat. He ignored this and continued, this time with a series of shorter quicker licks along you. He alternated patterns, unsure what was the best for you. Everything he did honestly felt just as good, but you enjoyed his varied motions.

You writhed and squirmed in response to his skillful work, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets in lieu of allowing yourself to moan. His hands still firmly held your thighs apart with his robotic strength in order to prevent himself from being crushed by you. You had expected him to be good, but not this good. You hadn't anticipated just how truly masterful he was, how talented and skilled his tongue was.

And then, you suddenly felt yourself coming closer to some unseen edge. A feeling grew tighter and tighter in the pit of your stomach, and you couldn't help but to allow yourself to moan and breath heavily through gritted teeth.

You couldn't see, as you were too busy staring at literally anywhere but Mettaton's face, but he gazed up at you lovingly as he finished you off, bringing you through your climax and still licking and sucking and even occasionally grazing his teeth across you until you had finally been able to calm down. Even after your orgasm had passed, racking through your entire body violently and leaving you exhausted and panting, he dutifully licked up your fluids, ensuring you were clean before he sighed softly and pressed another kiss to your core, then one to your tummy, and laid next to you.

In a tired daze, you moved your hands to lay on top of the heart case, where the heart was dripping some pink, glittering fluid.

"D-don't mind that, darling," he muttered, noticing your curiosity. "It's only natural after all."

You didn't really want to ask for further elaboration,so you nodded and scooted closer to him, saying, "That was amazing. You're amazing. Marvelous, really." You began to hum a tune from a musical. Mary Poppins? Cabaret?

"Thank you, honey. Now sleep. You're delirious," he insisted.

You nodded sleepily once more, allowing him to wrap an arm around your waist and take your hand with the other.

"Goodnight, my darling," he muttered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Nigh' Muhton," you muttered, too tired to correct your speech that was impaired by his chest plate and the pillow and just tiredness.

He smiled at you and closed his eyes as you did, whispering, "Sweet dreams, my love."