[To have his gestures accepted and returned didn't come at all as a surprise, but he felt reassured by it nonetheless. Such displays didn't come easily to the Ascian, and he's conscious of the vulnerability involved. Not that he'd ever been good at it in the past, but it felt like an eternity since he'd even had the opportunity to try.
It... hurt. That wasn't unfamiliar. That wasn't even unusual. But it hurt in a way he cared not to examine, as he lets the emotion sink into him with a hitch of breath, a small pained-yet-pleased sound.
It was the mix of needs, ever intense, yet ever gentle and deliberate as well. With every heartbeat his cock ached to be touched, for more direct stimulation, having no particular care for what form it took. Emet-Selch felt similarly, though he couldn't help but rub his erection slowly against the other man's thigh, just for a bit of relief. He tries not to think about the ways he wanted Mettaton but couldn't have him, not yet. That way only lay frustration, and there was too much else to appreciate in the meantime.
Like when their lips finally meet, stealing his breath again despite nothing about the gesture actually preventing him from taking air. But he leans into it with a small, low noise, and even when Mettaton moves on to kissing other parts of his face, his breathing is irregular, unsteady. From the hands on his neck and back, the lips decorating his face with their attentions, he felt- cared for. Cared for and about, which just sets him hurting in that strange way again. His own hand finds its way to the back of Mettaton's neck, fingers stroking slowly from his hairline down to the top of his back, and then upwards again, the touch firm but not hard.
And he continues to provide Mettaton's own face with his deliberation, careful to not interrupt the idol's own actions, though as ever he finds himself lingering whenever their lips happened to meet. On one such occasion, he takes his lower lip between his teeth in a slow drag over it, before flicking his tongue against it in a brief, damp lick.]
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It... hurt. That wasn't unfamiliar. That wasn't even unusual. But it hurt in a way he cared not to examine, as he lets the emotion sink into him with a hitch of breath, a small pained-yet-pleased sound.
It was the mix of needs, ever intense, yet ever gentle and deliberate as well. With every heartbeat his cock ached to be touched, for more direct stimulation, having no particular care for what form it took. Emet-Selch felt similarly, though he couldn't help but rub his erection slowly against the other man's thigh, just for a bit of relief. He tries not to think about the ways he wanted Mettaton but couldn't have him, not yet. That way only lay frustration, and there was too much else to appreciate in the meantime.
Like when their lips finally meet, stealing his breath again despite nothing about the gesture actually preventing him from taking air. But he leans into it with a small, low noise, and even when Mettaton moves on to kissing other parts of his face, his breathing is irregular, unsteady. From the hands on his neck and back, the lips decorating his face with their attentions, he felt- cared for. Cared for and about, which just sets him hurting in that strange way again. His own hand finds its way to the back of Mettaton's neck, fingers stroking slowly from his hairline down to the top of his back, and then upwards again, the touch firm but not hard.
And he continues to provide Mettaton's own face with his deliberation, careful to not interrupt the idol's own actions, though as ever he finds himself lingering whenever their lips happened to meet. On one such occasion, he takes his lower lip between his teeth in a slow drag over it, before flicking his tongue against it in a brief, damp lick.]