"A little greedy, I think. I could never, not everyday..." Is his somewhat playful yet entirely earnest reply to the thought of showing such vulnerabiliy on the daily. For all the power he commands, he has a gentle and sensitive heart, and the best protection he has for it is to seem intimidating, cold, and unapproachable. If he went about seeming kind or soft all the time, there's nothing he could do to protect himself when people would inevitably approach him to appeal to his better nature. He feels his emotions so intensely, so strongly, he needs to be able to step away, to resume the act of the unfeeling intellectual just to give his heart a rest.
Even now, as he's being cherished like this, it's almost too much for him. The feelings of adoration and love, the warmth and attention, it makes his weary heart swell but also makes him feel the need to withdraw. He doesn't, especially as Byleth kisses him and he returns the act without hesitation. Melting into it, his movements soft in their measured tenderness.
Laying there, heart to heart with Byleth, his sticky mess between their bellies. With his lips close to his ear as he speaks, this gives him a shiver down his spine, and he absentmindedly tightens around Byleth as a result. After all, his ears are rather sensitive. And maybe the praise is doing stuff to him too, but he's a little too spent (emotionally) to pursue that feeling.
"Aye. I would much rather stop while we're ahead. To take this moment, and those that come after, to bask in this warmth with you." He chews on his next words for a moment or two, heat returning to his face as he stares at the ceiling above him to try to sort himself before speaking.
"But, if you love to hear laughter and to see smiles, you picked a rather poor choice of a partner, you do realize, yes? Flatter me all you like, I fear it will not increase the occurrence."
As he says this, he raises his hand in that familiar way of his, to snap away the mess. Byleth better stop him if he wishes to preserve his aftercare routine! He isn't thinking about such care himself, used to the need to tend to the mess himself, not because of Hythlodaeus being neglectful, because he isn't. Rather, after thousands and thousands of years of absence and neglect through it, he has been broken of the habit to expect something as luxurious as aftercare.
Needless to say, Emet-Selch's sexual pursuits when living among the mortals were not always dignified, respectful, nor particularly healthy for a sensitive and grieving man to engage in. At least it was better, he rationalized during those dark times, than getting attached to someone whose life would amount to moments by comparison. Loneliness and loss build bad habits, and as much as he'd like to think he's got his shit together, there's certainly little tells that say otherwise.
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Even now, as he's being cherished like this, it's almost too much for him. The feelings of adoration and love, the warmth and attention, it makes his weary heart swell but also makes him feel the need to withdraw. He doesn't, especially as Byleth kisses him and he returns the act without hesitation. Melting into it, his movements soft in their measured tenderness.
Laying there, heart to heart with Byleth, his sticky mess between their bellies. With his lips close to his ear as he speaks, this gives him a shiver down his spine, and he absentmindedly tightens around Byleth as a result. After all, his ears are rather sensitive. And maybe the praise is doing stuff to him too, but he's a little too spent (emotionally) to pursue that feeling.
"Aye. I would much rather stop while we're ahead. To take this moment, and those that come after, to bask in this warmth with you." He chews on his next words for a moment or two, heat returning to his face as he stares at the ceiling above him to try to sort himself before speaking.
"But, if you love to hear laughter and to see smiles, you picked a rather poor choice of a partner, you do realize, yes? Flatter me all you like, I fear it will not increase the occurrence."
As he says this, he raises his hand in that familiar way of his, to snap away the mess. Byleth better stop him if he wishes to preserve his aftercare routine! He isn't thinking about such care himself, used to the need to tend to the mess himself, not because of Hythlodaeus being neglectful, because he isn't. Rather, after thousands and thousands of years of absence and neglect through it, he has been broken of the habit to expect something as luxurious as aftercare.
Needless to say, Emet-Selch's sexual pursuits when living among the mortals were not always dignified, respectful, nor particularly healthy for a sensitive and grieving man to engage in. At least it was better, he rationalized during those dark times, than getting attached to someone whose life would amount to moments by comparison. Loneliness and loss build bad habits, and as much as he'd like to think he's got his shit together, there's certainly little tells that say otherwise.