The show was good, but the backstage is better.
Mettaton’s got you pressed against his wall, his hands tangled in your hair and his tongue getting lost in your mouth. His vinyl lips are soft against yours, and they taste inexplicably like strawberry, like they always do. He’s kissing you hungrily, his hands roaming all over your body, and you can barely pull away for long enough to tell him what you need to tell him.
“I brought you something, sweetheart.”
You reach over to grab it from where it’s been resting on his vanity, and Mettaton’s eyes light up - literally as well as figuratively. In a few seconds you’ve unscrewed his panel and tossed it aside, exposing his outlet for a beautiful second before his metal fingers push yours aside to jam the thing’s plug into it.