[It's a perfect observation, then. A flawless point of reference, a very normal Emet-Selch complete with his control and a frown to boot, but still paying Mettaton the amount of attention he approves of. He's eager to put this to use.
It's hard not to get distracted by what Emet-Selch treats him to, both within their kiss and beyond it. As feedback, feeling his hands wander his body forces him into deepening his kiss for longer with a short noise of pleasure from his throat, pressing harder, not allowing him to break it until he can have his fill. It surprises him how a mere stroke of his hips and his thighs can make him shudder, forcing him to squirm and readjust his body to handle the sensation. The feeling of teeth in his kiss makes him more amorous and intense, and before he could possibly permit his Bonded from changing focus and treating his jaw, he catches him in one last kiss, biting and sucking at his lower lip before releasing him.
MTT still smirks yet. But through their ever intensifying connection of a Bond, it's easy to tell that sensation of this quality remains new and alluring, if not overwhelming... But it's easy to tell that the idol thrives in being overwhelmed. Even the softest of touches sends sparks through his system and makes him want more, something just as sweet or something harder or more intense, he can never decide which. Would he ever get over this, when he's only craved it for so long?
His eyelid's heavy, and he bears his neck to Emet-Selch as he finishes undoing his shirts (of which there are multiple, requiring both hands). He hums, pleased by the initiative.
Emet-Selch shivers. MTT pushes, and he holds onto him in turn, ultimately allowing Mettaton to call the shots. Mettaton doesn't quite push him all the way back yet, but he smiles softly at him as he looms above him.]
You shiver... Is it cold in here?
[He can't tell. He imagines he'd be able to if Emet-Selch's skin were to accustom to the air about them and if he were to use his mouth, but he's otherwise clueless.
In the meantime, Mettaton takes the opportunity to press him into the bed, though he keeps close to allow Emet-Selch the ability to continue working on his neck. Almost as though he likes it, which he does. One of his hands greedily pushes his clothes open, dragging his hand up his abdomen and across his chest with varying pressure, all deliberate and curious. His hand lingers over his heart, his thumb stroking at his skin as Mettaton sighs again, smitten.]
no subject
It's hard not to get distracted by what Emet-Selch treats him to, both within their kiss and beyond it. As feedback, feeling his hands wander his body forces him into deepening his kiss for longer with a short noise of pleasure from his throat, pressing harder, not allowing him to break it until he can have his fill. It surprises him how a mere stroke of his hips and his thighs can make him shudder, forcing him to squirm and readjust his body to handle the sensation. The feeling of teeth in his kiss makes him more amorous and intense, and before he could possibly permit his Bonded from changing focus and treating his jaw, he catches him in one last kiss, biting and sucking at his lower lip before releasing him.
MTT still smirks yet. But through their ever intensifying connection of a Bond, it's easy to tell that sensation of this quality remains new and alluring, if not overwhelming... But it's easy to tell that the idol thrives in being overwhelmed. Even the softest of touches sends sparks through his system and makes him want more, something just as sweet or something harder or more intense, he can never decide which. Would he ever get over this, when he's only craved it for so long?
His eyelid's heavy, and he bears his neck to Emet-Selch as he finishes undoing his shirts (of which there are multiple, requiring both hands). He hums, pleased by the initiative.
Emet-Selch shivers. MTT pushes, and he holds onto him in turn, ultimately allowing Mettaton to call the shots. Mettaton doesn't quite push him all the way back yet, but he smiles softly at him as he looms above him.]
You shiver... Is it cold in here?
[He can't tell. He imagines he'd be able to if Emet-Selch's skin were to accustom to the air about them and if he were to use his mouth, but he's otherwise clueless.
In the meantime, Mettaton takes the opportunity to press him into the bed, though he keeps close to allow Emet-Selch the ability to continue working on his neck. Almost as though he likes it, which he does. One of his hands greedily pushes his clothes open, dragging his hand up his abdomen and across his chest with varying pressure, all deliberate and curious. His hand lingers over his heart, his thumb stroking at his skin as Mettaton sighs again, smitten.]