[The startle has Emet-Selch startle in turn, his hold on Mettaton reflexively tightening, pulse jumping at the unexpected response. A pulse that is then content to stay elevated at the sound of his moan, at the way Mettaton pressed back into him, each tremble, the tone to his voice. Warmed skin seemed inclined to stay that way as well, and the sudden tension in his limbs has them tremble slightly from that rush of piercing desire.]
Ah....
[It was certainly a feeling to go from lazily aroused to completely hard, just from a bit of shifting on Mettaton's part, from the immediacy of his reaction to him. The sensation of blood rushing lower in his body leaves the Ascian dizzy and momentarily breathless, and he takes a moment to simply revel in that feeling. That he could be so quickly spurred into wanting Mettaton so strongly again (as if the feeling had ever completely faded), the warmth and responsiveness of even a robotic form shifting against his own. To be wanted so blatantly in return; he swallows back a moan of his own by sucking hard at the center of Mettaton's throat. With less success does he hold back a shudder, finally letting go of his neck in order to speak.]
If- you truly prefer me awake. 'Tis. One way of achieving that.
[Though it was starting to feel as though just being in Mettaton's presence would be a temptation on its own. And that the closer they were, the more of a test it would become- though it wasn't as though the penalty for failing to resist was a very terrible one.
With effort as well as some regret, Emet-Selch nudges back from his place at Mettaton's neck, lifting his head in order to seek out his gaze. Something made slightly more difficult by his inability to keep their faces apart much at all. But in addition to the rise in need, there was an accompanying longing present in his expression. A sentiment expressed again in the hesitant gentleness in the way his lips move over his Bonded's face. More brushings than kisses over his jaw and cheek, the Ascian's breathing is shaky.
It felt... fragile, somehow, in a way he couldn't express. As though he were skirting around the edge of something delicate. Something that would disappear if he observed it too closely.]
no subject
Ah....
[It was certainly a feeling to go from lazily aroused to completely hard, just from a bit of shifting on Mettaton's part, from the immediacy of his reaction to him. The sensation of blood rushing lower in his body leaves the Ascian dizzy and momentarily breathless, and he takes a moment to simply revel in that feeling. That he could be so quickly spurred into wanting Mettaton so strongly again (as if the feeling had ever completely faded), the warmth and responsiveness of even a robotic form shifting against his own. To be wanted so blatantly in return; he swallows back a moan of his own by sucking hard at the center of Mettaton's throat. With less success does he hold back a shudder, finally letting go of his neck in order to speak.]
If- you truly prefer me awake. 'Tis. One way of achieving that.
[Though it was starting to feel as though just being in Mettaton's presence would be a temptation on its own. And that the closer they were, the more of a test it would become- though it wasn't as though the penalty for failing to resist was a very terrible one.
With effort as well as some regret, Emet-Selch nudges back from his place at Mettaton's neck, lifting his head in order to seek out his gaze. Something made slightly more difficult by his inability to keep their faces apart much at all. But in addition to the rise in need, there was an accompanying longing present in his expression. A sentiment expressed again in the hesitant gentleness in the way his lips move over his Bonded's face. More brushings than kisses over his jaw and cheek, the Ascian's breathing is shaky.
It felt... fragile, somehow, in a way he couldn't express. As though he were skirting around the edge of something delicate. Something that would disappear if he observed it too closely.]