[The sound of instability from an entity who didn't need to breathe was deeply satisfying to the Ascian. Not that every sound Mettaton made wasn't nearly as enticing, didn't keep his pulse racing, didn't send faint shivers through him with every gasp and sigh. And a different, even deeper feeling whenever Mettaton used his name; though he'd immediately accepted that it had been the right choice in telling him, that decision felt reaffirmed each time he heard it pass his lips.
But that measure of feeling over the Bond remains alarming, remains concerning, remains unsettling. Not only in the feel of it in itself, but in the degree to which Emet-Selch wanted it. And while it remained overwhelming, it wasn't as quite as panic-inducing as before, for all that his heart still lurches painfully, that his breathing is shallow and with poor effect.
He has to rest his forehead against Mettaton's for a moment, more than a bit overcome. The wealth of physical sensations melding with the emotional certainly don't help when it comes to grounding him. The teasing stroke of a finger along his cock has him cry out, then suck in a sharper breath as he's unable to keep his hips from pressing himself into the robot's touch. Moaning softly, he clings harder to him for a few trembling seconds before managing to relax just a bit, though ripples of tension continue to run through him.
The look to Mettaton's eye certainly made it no easier to collect himself- and did Emet-Selch really care to? He felt no inclination to hide the entirety of his response from him, catching the idol's gaze with an unfocused, but no less intent wanting. It's blatant and honest, and forever a bit sad, despite the obvious attachment. Or because of it.
Catching his lips again for another kiss, he deepens it immediately, despite his own unfortunate need for air, taking a claim of Mettaton's mouth with a nearly inaudible moan.]
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But that measure of feeling over the Bond remains alarming, remains concerning, remains unsettling. Not only in the feel of it in itself, but in the degree to which Emet-Selch wanted it. And while it remained overwhelming, it wasn't as quite as panic-inducing as before, for all that his heart still lurches painfully, that his breathing is shallow and with poor effect.
He has to rest his forehead against Mettaton's for a moment, more than a bit overcome. The wealth of physical sensations melding with the emotional certainly don't help when it comes to grounding him. The teasing stroke of a finger along his cock has him cry out, then suck in a sharper breath as he's unable to keep his hips from pressing himself into the robot's touch. Moaning softly, he clings harder to him for a few trembling seconds before managing to relax just a bit, though ripples of tension continue to run through him.
The look to Mettaton's eye certainly made it no easier to collect himself- and did Emet-Selch really care to? He felt no inclination to hide the entirety of his response from him, catching the idol's gaze with an unfocused, but no less intent wanting. It's blatant and honest, and forever a bit sad, despite the obvious attachment. Or because of it.
Catching his lips again for another kiss, he deepens it immediately, despite his own unfortunate need for air, taking a claim of Mettaton's mouth with a nearly inaudible moan.]