[With Emet-Selch's own loss of composure comes Mettaton's further collapse, the feeling of being shoved down against his erection enough to bring him to new heights of disorienting lust. Without a Bond he can tell that this expression would have certainly affected him. But the Bond's kryptonite, and its effect is triple fold. He cries out against the gesture in surprise, but he leans into him all the same, letting his head hang toward his Bonded's shoulder when the pleasure overwhelms him even as he nips at and presses into his neck.
He'd almost mistaken himself as having short-circuited, how little he's able to move his body by his own will.
So Emet-Selch's hand guiding him by the back of his neck is a helpful gesture when he can barely take stock of his own body, and he hums into the kiss, fingers curling against the Ascian's skin. It's a good moment to pull himself together after falling so hard, so quickly. He gives Emet-Selch the control over this kiss, feeling prominently his longing and wanting to feel it for himself in action, his own manifesting as a deep heat in his body. Sometimes it's difficult to tell who's feeling what, but he can tell this much, much to his pleasure.
With the chance to recover granted, Mettaton pushes into his the Ascian's lips with his own mix of love and fever, affected but still needing to make his desire known. Emet-Selch can't hold his lips captive forever, and the very moment he breaks away, Mettaton catches him back up in another ardent kiss, a gentle nip at his lower lip before pressing his tongue against it, sliding with a firm pressure before breaking away. Since he likely needs to breathe, sometimes, a little.
He opens his eye and shifts enough to match his gaze with Emet-Selch's, since both of them only have their left eye functional. He smiles, veering heavily infatuated in his sincerity, appreciating the feeling of his chest beneath his fingertips with strokes and prods. The undercurrent, of course, is the sheer want he harbors for the other man, and it's not a moment longer before he's ducking down to press his face into his neck — first, to make sure all knew, with certainty, that this was his Bonded, and second, to kiss and bite at the soft tissue of his neck.
...But even a shift of his hips against Emet-Selch's arousal has him stuttering all over again, and the Puca squirms, helpless against his own cravings but recoiling like he's touched a hot burner. But he settles back down with more conviction this time, the muscle of his legs wound tense.]
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He'd almost mistaken himself as having short-circuited, how little he's able to move his body by his own will.
So Emet-Selch's hand guiding him by the back of his neck is a helpful gesture when he can barely take stock of his own body, and he hums into the kiss, fingers curling against the Ascian's skin. It's a good moment to pull himself together after falling so hard, so quickly. He gives Emet-Selch the control over this kiss, feeling prominently his longing and wanting to feel it for himself in action, his own manifesting as a deep heat in his body. Sometimes it's difficult to tell who's feeling what, but he can tell this much, much to his pleasure.
With the chance to recover granted, Mettaton pushes into his the Ascian's lips with his own mix of love and fever, affected but still needing to make his desire known. Emet-Selch can't hold his lips captive forever, and the very moment he breaks away, Mettaton catches him back up in another ardent kiss, a gentle nip at his lower lip before pressing his tongue against it, sliding with a firm pressure before breaking away. Since he likely needs to breathe, sometimes, a little.
He opens his eye and shifts enough to match his gaze with Emet-Selch's, since both of them only have their left eye functional. He smiles, veering heavily infatuated in his sincerity, appreciating the feeling of his chest beneath his fingertips with strokes and prods. The undercurrent, of course, is the sheer want he harbors for the other man, and it's not a moment longer before he's ducking down to press his face into his neck — first, to make sure all knew, with certainty, that this was his Bonded, and second, to kiss and bite at the soft tissue of his neck.
...But even a shift of his hips against Emet-Selch's arousal has him stuttering all over again, and the Puca squirms, helpless against his own cravings but recoiling like he's touched a hot burner. But he settles back down with more conviction this time, the muscle of his legs wound tense.]