TRIGGER WARNINGS: sexual content, emotional manipulation, emetophobia

This chapter has more explicit sexual content than has been seen before. There is no smut, but it may be disturbing and uncomfortable to read (which it is meant to be).

Chapter 43 - Pressure

A year ago, Mettaton couldn't have said where he would be now. In fact, his past self would probably have been rather shocked to see the future. He'd already been friends with Devon at that point, but he had convinced himself that dating would be a distraction from his true love, which was his acting career, and he had ignored or rebuffed every advance Devon made on him.

Now that he had finally given in, he found that he had been right—dating was rather distracting. But it was a distraction that made him feel good, that didn't make him feel like he was missing out on much.

He had never really dreamed of romance as a teenager, as many did. For one, he'd been dealing with parental issues, things he didn't really like thinking about now. And even once those were over, he'd been dealing with losing both his parents and trying to figure out where to go from there.

And, of course, once he'd met Alphys, gotten his body, and started his television career, he'd been entirely too busy to think of love. At least, the kind that lasted more than a night.

This love that he and Devon had, now… he'd never realized that these feelings existed. Feelings of pure adoration, utter contentment, excitement on a whole new level. Of course, there were negative feelings too, namely resignation after he lost an argument with Devon (which was often) and that weird, sick feeling he got in his stomach whenever Devon tried to take him to the bedroom. But arguments were just part of being in a relationship, and the other thing was just him still not being able to let go of the past, so he preferred to focus on the happier feelings.

He was thinking of all this on New Year's Eve, just before midnight. It was just him and Devon alone in their house, sitting on the couch and watching the television, which had on a news channel counting down the minutes with fireworks in the background.

Frisk and Papyrus both had asked if he would come over on New Year's, but Mettaton had firmly declined, saying that since he'd missed his and Devon's first Christmas, it was only fair his boyfriend get to have him for the next holiday. The two had been disappointed, but they hadn't argued.

That was vaguely in the back of Mettaton's mind as he lay with his head in Devon's lap, but he was distracted by the intimate feeling of the man stroking his hair.

On the television, the news reporters began counting down the last seconds of the old year, and Mettaton sat up. Devon didn't protest, his hand sliding down Mettaton's arm to hold his hand.

As the timer hit zero, Mettaton and Devon turned to each other and kissed deeply.

"Happy 2117, babe," Devon said, smiling as he picked up a glass of champagne sitting on the coffee table. Mettaton picked up another glass, and they clinked them together and drank.

"I'm so happy I get to have you here," Devon said, pulling Mettaton back into his lap. Mettaton simply sighed happily in response.

For a few minutes, the two of them were silent, listening to the fireworks in the distance.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I have a surprise for you," Devon said, patting Mettaton's arm. "Up, if you would."

Mettaton sat up again, waiting curiously as his boyfriend went to the kitchen to retrieve something. Devon returned with an envelope and handed it to him. Mettaton opened it up and looked at the paper inside.

"Oh! Reservations for… Mudbrick Vineyard and Restaurant? Where's that? I've never heard of it," he said. "On January 16th…" He smiled. "Oh, for our six-month anniversary, I see."

"It's this nice place over on Waiheke Island. It's not nearly as expensive as the Plat, but I thought it would be nice to do something different," Devon said. "Still good and fancy. We'll have to take a ferry to get there and back, so I reserved things early in the day for us."

"It sounds wonderful, darling. Thank you so much!" Mettaton stood and hugged Devon, who put his arms around him in return. "Don't tell me what we're going to eat. I want it to be a surprise."

"Sure thing, babe."

They went to bed soon after that, though Mettaton lay awake for a while, excited about their anniversary and what Devon could have in store.

Ω

Sixteen days later, Devon woke up Mettaton with a kiss to remind him what a special day it was. They spent a few minutes in bed whispering to each other, Mettaton's hand gently stroking the stubble on Devon's face, before getting up, Devon heading to the bathroom to shave and Mettaton stretching and going to open the curtains, and then the window itself, by the bed.

It was a bright, beautiful sunny morning, cool, but not uncomfortably so. Someone was mowing the lawn down the street. A few seagulls flew by, cackling loudly, but not loudly enough to drown out the sound of ocean waves.

Devon's electric razor started up in the bathroom. Mettaton joined him to brush his hair and wash his face. The two of them kept stealing glances at each other in the mirror and smiling every time.

Mettaton loved the domesticity of it all.

Devon made breakfast that morning, cooking fresh, buttery pancakes on the griddle. It was a light breakfast, as they didn't want to overeat and spoil their special lunch at three. When they were finished with that, they sat on the couch and half-listened to the morning news while making out on the couch.

Soon it was nearly eleven-thirty (they'd gotten up later than they'd meant to), and Devon ushered Mettaton upstairs to get ready. Mettaton had already chosen a dress—black as night, parts of it sleek and others glittery, with off-the-shoulder straps and an uneven hemline, shorter in the front with a bit of a train in the back. His makeup was mostly dark too, smoky eyeshadow with winged eyeliner, but for a bit of a color pop, his lipstick was red—not brightly so, but enough that it stood out. He chose a hairpiece with a matching red underside as well, pulling it into a bun at the nape of his neck. He made sure his nails, also red, were filed to perfection.

Devon's outfit was the opposite of Mettaton's—a red tuxedo with black accessories to match. He'd always liked it when people compared their outfits, though he also always seemed a trifle displeased if someone pointed out that Mettaton was wearing a dress—which was virtually all the time. In fact, he'd suggested Mettaton wear a tuxedo to this outing, one of the few times Mettaton had pointedly ignored him. Devon hadn't been happy about it, but he hadn't put up much of a fuss, either, and he certainly wasn't now that Mettaton had dressed up and was looking quite stunning.

They left the house at twelve-thirty to go to the harbor, where they boarded a ferry to Waiheke Island. After the near two-hour cruise across the bay, they took a taxi over to the restaurant, where Mettaton had to hold in a gasp at the glorious sight.

The Plat de Fantaisie had been fancy inside and out—a palace of a building in the middle of the city. The Mudbrick Vineyard and Restaurant looked more like a large house with a veranda. But the location—the location of the Mudbrick alone almost replaced the Plat as Mettaton's favorite restaurant in his heart. Rolling hills, green forest and bushes, gardens much larger and wilder than the Plat's, and the bright blue ocean in the distance—

"How have you not taken me here before?" Mettaton demanded as they exited the taxi.

"Well, it is a bit far away," Devon reminded him as he came around the car. "And they serve a lot of fish, which you don't like. There is a fish portion of our meal…"

"Oh." That was unfortunate. But it certainly wasn't going to ruin Mettaton's day, and at least it was only a portion. "Well, don't tell me what the rest isgoing to be. I want every course a surprise!"

Devon took his hand and kissed his temple. "You got it, babe."

"How many courses are there, anyway?" Mettaton asked after Devon had told the host about their reservation.

"At this place? Eight, but a lot of them are small."

Eight courses… wow. That was more than they'd ever gotten at the Plat. Mettaton was liking this place better and better, even with the fish.

Devon and Mettaton were seated outside in view of the ocean. Devon immediately asked for the waiter to retrieve the wine he'd ordered, and the waiter returned quickly with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. Mettaton, who'd gotten somewhat more comfortable drinking again since dating Devon, allowed himself to be poured a full glass. It was a dry wine, which Mettaton wasn't usually a fan of, but he didn't complain. He did ask for a glass of ice water, though, as it made him thirsty.

As he sipped his wine, Mettaton noticed Devon gazing at him. "What?" he said, with a touch of amusement.

Devon sighed. "Nothing. You just look extra gorgeous tonight, that's all."

Mettaton chuckled. "So do you."

"Nah, not like you. You're absolutely glowing."

Mettaton put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand, staring at Devon through narrowed eyelids, a smile playing at his lips. "If you're trying to make me flustered, it won't work." He could feel his face growing hot, despite his words.

Devon must have been able to see the blush, because he grinned triumphantly. "Whatever you say."

The small talk went on for a few more minutes until the waiter brought the first course—a selection of bread, consisting of a special kind of sourdough, Shepherd's loaf, French baguette, and pumpernickel, with whipped truffle butter and olive oil to dip. Mettaton was secretly glad for the pumpernickel, even if it was by far the cheapest of the bunch—he was rather partial to it.

Together they finished off the bread basket, and then came the appetizer.

The waiter brought a dish of scallops with peas, yuzu, and prosciutto, covered in buttermilk and tarragon. Mettaton had never had scallops before, and he was a bit afraid of it tasting too fishy, but they were actually rather sweet, a bit salty, and even a little nutty—though perhaps that was due to some marinade or such that they hadn't mentioned. Either way, he found it much more tolerable than normal fish.

Devon seemed apologetic, regardless. "If there were anything else I knew you liked, I would have ordered that," he assured Mettaton. "Same for the prawn that's coming up."

"I said I wanted everything a surprise!" Mettaton scolded him, but he wasn't really upset. He'd never had prawn, either. He supposed in this case it was better to prepare himself in case he had to choke it down.

Following the scallops was spiced pumpkin soup with cranberries, orange biscotti, and walnuts. That was much more to Mettaton's taste.

As they ate, Devon surprised Mettaton by asking him how Papyrus was.

"Oh—he's doing alright, I suppose. He was having trouble with his brother over Christmas. I don't know the details—" That was a lie, but Mettaton didn't want to gossip. "—but he was a bit down. I do hope they've worked it out by now."

"I didn't know he had a brother."

"Oh, yes. Sans. I can't remember if you two were ever introduced, actually. But he generally keeps to himself, anyway. I've noticed he prefers to stick with Papyrus, Toriel, or his boyfriend, and occasionally the kids. He is a funny one, though," Mettaton rambled, taking a sip of his soup thoughtfully. "He tells a lot of bad puns and pranks people, too. I'm rather surprised he didn't slip a whoopie cushion on your seat the first time you came to dinner, honestly." He giggled at the thought.

"Hmph. Well, at least he had the sense not to. Anyway, it's too bad he and Papyrus were having trouble." Devon sat back in his chair loftily. "I never really had fights with my siblings. We were always able to work things out. Never really understood why other people complain about their siblings so much. Guess we were just raised better."

"Well… I wouldn't know. The closest thing I had to siblings were my cousins, and I've never fought with them, either," Mettaton replied. Then he wrinkled his nose. "Actually, that's not true. Maddy and I have never gotten along very well. I'm fairly certain I would have gotten beaten up by her more than once if we hadn't been ghosts."

"Feisty one, huh?" Devon chuckled.

"To say the least."

Mettaton told a few stories about himself and Maddy as they finished their soup, and then came the dish that Mettaton had been near dreading.

The prawn was served with green curry, mango, and kaffir lime beurre blanc, a type of buttery sauce. Mettaton took a hesitant bite of it all and chewed slowly. Hm, it wasn't unlike shrimp, which he didn't particularly like, but it was manageable, and the curry and sauce gave it a unique flavor; he wouldn't be forcing it down. Thank heaven for that.

Devon apologized again, but Mettaton wouldn't hear of it. So far it really hadn't been a bad dinner; in fact, it had been quite lovely overall.

After the prawn came a palate cleanser in the form of sweet cherry sorbet, which Mettaton did quite like. And after that came the main course.

It was a lamb loin, garnished with heirloom tomatoes, artichokes, and chorizo and seasoned with black garlic and pimenton de la vera. The meat was gamey, much more so than beef, which Mettaton was more used to, but the rich flavor still appealed. He was glad he had such a big appetite; it was very filling.

"You seem like you're enjoying yourself," Devon chuckled, as Mettaton was eating more quickly than perhaps was proper. A little embarrassed, Mettaton put down his fork and carefully wiped his lips with his napkin.

"It's very good," was all he said.

Following the main course was dessert in the form of a doughnut made from Valrhona Manjari dark chocolate with chai, bergamot, mandarin, and almonds, and lastly, as always, petits fours.

"My god, Devon, I'm absolutely stuffed," Mettaton said at the end, leaning back in his chair. "I don't know if I can stand up."

"Well, let's try to walk this off, anyway. Come on, there's a small dance floor," Devon suggested. "They're playing live music right now."

"Oh, alright." Mettaton stood slowly and walked hand in hand with Devon to an open space on the veranda. The two of them were the only ones there, aside from the live pianist and violin player.

Mettaton and Devon rocked slowly back and forth in a circle, Mettaton's hands on Devon's shoulders with Devon's hands at his waist. Eventually, Mettaton stopped moving his feet and rested his head on Devon's chest, his arms sliding down and encircling him. "I love this so much."

Devon's arms came up to embrace him. "Me, too."

"I never bothered to dream of anything like this," Mettaton sighed. "When I was young, it just seemed impossible. And until recently, I made myself too busy."

"Well, at least now you've seen the light."

It wasn't long before they went back to their table to finish their wine, and then said thank you to the waiter and called a taxi to get back to the ferry.

By the time they reached home, it was nearly eight o'clock, and Mettaton felt bushed. Devon, however, seemed to grow more restless… excited. Mettaton wasn't sure why that was.

The second they got in the door, Mettaton went over to the couch and fell down upon it. Devon watched him with amusement. "Tired?"

"Very," Mettaton groaned.

"Hm. Well… I have another surprise for you, if you're up for it."

Mettaton opened his eye a slit. "What's that?"

"Let me go upstairs and get it ready. I'll get you in a bit."

"Fine," Mettaton yawned.

It seemed only a split second later that Devon was rousing him. "Come on, Tonnie. It's ready."

"Can't you give it to me down here?" whined Mettaton.

"…I mean, I suppose, but trust me, it'll be more romantic upstairs." Devon slipped his arms behind Mettaton's shoulders and knees and lifted him up.

Mettaton laughed a little and let Devon carefully take him upstairs. The man set him down outside his bedroom door and opened it.

What Mettaton saw inside made him snap wide awake in an instant.

Red candles, smelling of flowers, had been placed all around the room and lit, providing the only light in the place. Rose petals were strewn on the floor, leading to the bed, which had the covers pulled back to the foot of it.

Mettaton felt his throat close as he vaguely heard Devon closing the door behind them.

The man put an arm around Mettaton's shoulders, pushing him gently forward, but Mettaton stumbled back, falling against the door.

Devon looked back. "Tonnie…?"

Mettaton let out a strangled breath, then found he couldn't suck it back in.

"Hey, Tonnie, what's wrong?"

Mettaton clutched his chest. "Can't… breathe…"

He heard the sound of someone hyperventilating in the distance; that couldn't be himself, could it?

The next thing he knew, he was on the floor, and Devon was holding his head. "Tonnie! Tonnie, can you hear me?"

"I… I think so?" Mettaton blinked. He looked out to the room, but everything seemed blurry. "What happened?"

"Uh… I was going to ask you the same thing." Devon sounded very worried. "I thought… you know… it's a special day, so we could have a special night? But… you seem concerned about my intentions."

"I… I don't…" Oh. It was all coming back, and suddenly Mettaton felt like throwing up. "You… You want to…"

"If everything here didn't clue you in, yeah, Tonnie, I wanted to have sex tonight. It would be nice if you could pull yourself together…" Devon cajoled him.

Mettaton sat up suddenly and pushed himself off the floor, facing away from Devon. "I'm sorry, Dev, I'm just not ready for this. Maybe if you had said something this morning…"

"Oh?" Devon raised an eyebrow. "You'd do it if I had told you beforehand?"

Mettaton didn't answer right away. "I don't know," he said finally.

Devon didn't respond for a good while after that, until Mettaton finally looked behind him and saw how hurt the man seemed.

Mettaton didn't know what he could say to justify himself. In his heart, he felt there was no justification. That he could just barely stomach sex with strangers, but not at all, it seemed, with his own boyfriend—how horrible was that?

Devon took a deep breath. "Forget it," he said quietly. "I should have known."

Mettaton went over and took the man's arm. "I really…"

Devon shook him off. "You really what? You're sorry? I doubt it." He stalked over to the bed and sat down. "I give you everything you want. Everything. But I can't have the one thing I want."

Mettaton wrung his hands. He had nothing to say. He felt like utter scum. But he couldn't bring himself to give Devon that one thing he wanted.

A tear slipped down his cheek just as Devon looked up at him. The man opened his mouth, then closed it again and looked away.

Mettaton wiped at his face and turned away to walk to the bathroom to get his makeup off—no use having it on if he was going to cry.

Just as he reached the bathroom door, he heard Devon's voice.

"You know… our day doesn't have to be ruined."

Mettaton paused, one hand on the doorframe. He turned to Devon. "What do you mean?"

Devon stood. "I mean we can compromise."

"…H-how?" Mettaton squeaked.

"No need to look scared, hon," Devon said quietly as he walked over to his boyfriend. "Just listen to me."

Mettaton turned fully to Devon, and the man put his hands on Mettaton's shoulders, then slid them down to his hands.

"No sex tonight—I promise. How about instead… we just get out of these clothes and sit together like that?"

"Like what?" Mettaton asked, even as it hit him what Devon meant. "You mean…"

"Naked, yes," Devon chuckled. He stroked Mettaton's fingers. "Come on. I won't let it be anything more than that, I promise. I just…" He lifted Mettaton's left hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. "I'd love to see you in full. Just to know that there's no one else you'd do that for…"

Mettaton almost puked on the spot. As it was, he swallowed down the bile.

He wanted so badly to run away, but how could he? How could he deny Devon, who was supposed to be his love? After all, he'd promised it wouldn't be anything more…

"Come on, Tonnie." Devon kissed his other hand, and then gazed sadly at it. "I can feel you trembling. There's no need to be scared."

Mettaton's lower lip trembled. Then, finally, he said that fatal word. "Okay."

"There we go." Devon smiled and kissed his forehead. "Now turn around and let me help you get undressed."

Mettaton stood stock-still as Devon undid his hair and pulled down the zipper at the back of his dress. When there was nothing left on him, he helped Devon out of his tuxedo, and they both lay themselves down on the bed.

Mettaton closed his eye, feeling both of Devon's on his body like a magnet. He felt so exposed, so vulnerable—as if any second something would hit and destroy him.

As it was, he jumped a mile when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. His eye popped open, and he gasped.

"Just me, Tonnie." Devon's hand traveled down his arm.

"You said it wouldn't be anything more," Mettaton hissed.

A look of hurt came over Devon's face. "I'm keeping my promise, sweetheart. I'm just touching you. Nothing else."

Mettaton swallowed. God, he was so jumpy. Calm down! he yelled at himself.

"Can I keep going?" Devon asked softly.

Against his own will, Mettaton nodded.

And so Devon familiarized himself with Mettaton's body, while Mettaton lay there, the touches wreaking havoc on his psyche even as they were soft… not quite innocent, but gentle, nonetheless. Somehow, those touches still managed to feel nice… sensual. Physically, he liked the feeling of being touched this way.

But on the inside, he cried for how awful he felt as he allowed his limits to be pushed.

It shocked him when Devon suddenly pulled him into an embrace, hands on his back, carefully avoiding the switch that would cause him to change forms. Automatically, Mettaton slipped his arms around Devon, too. He could feel two heartbeats—his own, going wild from too many conflicting emotions, and Devon's, a little faster than normal, but overall much calmer than Mettaton's.

"Thank you for letting me have this, Tonnie," Devon whispered. "Maybe someday, we'll get you comfortable enough, and then we can really love each other."

Mettaton buried his face in Devon's neck. At this point, he hoped that day would come quickly, just so he could stop hooking up with strangers and feeling like killing himself over it. Someday, he thought.

As it was, he melted into his boyfriend's embrace, forcing himself to focus on the love Devon was giving to him, until the part of his mind that hated this gave up, finally falling silent.

oooooooooo

hey y'all. this chapter was a real doozy to write, and I was very conflicted about how far I wanted to go with it. but to me it's an important "next step" in Devon's manipulation of Mettaton and their relationship; he's slowly wearing him down until he gets what he wants.

everything about that scene is meant to be disturbing to readers, and conflicting to Mettaton who's got a lot of different feelings going on. I really hope no one takes it as me finding their relationship sexy, because I don't, not in the slightest.

anyway, on a happier note, the restaurant Mettaton and Devon went to is a real restaurant in New Zealand, and all their food came straight from their menu! idk I just like realism in my stories. plus that way I don't have to come up with my own fancy eight-course meal.

the 4th anniversary of The Walls Around Our Hearts is coming up on May 25, so I hope to release another chapter on that day!

so yeah, I hope you all got what I meant for you to get out of this chapter, since it probably wasn't very enjoyable.

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