[Emet-Selch can't help the small noise of disapproval when Mettaton breaks off from their kiss, when he feels his hand leaving his erection, and the trace of a frown even crosses the Ascian's expression. It's not at all deeply felt, assuming that Mettaton had good reason for the break, and it does serve as some opportunity to catch his breath.
Not much of one, as he watches the idol take his thumb into his mouth. It wasn't at all difficult to recall the way his cock had looked and felt, when Mettaton had treated it in the same fashion. And though he doesn't break their shared gaze, Emet-Selch can't help the shudder of memory that passes through him, the answering pang of need in his cock, the way his own lips are parted in sympathy as well as for breath. Even without being touched, it was though he could feel it, the same warmth and slick treatment. Even the brief sight of Mettaton's thumb leaving his mouth was reminiscent of the way his cock had been left, wet and glistening.
It's with rapt attention that he watches Mettaton finally (even though it hadn't been that long, those few moments made quite a lot of themselves in his mind) lower his hand to wrap around his cock once more. Though at the first brush of resumed contact, the Ascian's eyes close for several seconds, and he swallows heavily at the sensation. The firmer pressure of Mettaton's thumb leaving a wet trail along the full length of his erection, the smoother way he continued to rub over the tip of him. Softer noises are carried on his breath, too indistinct to be proper moans, but frequent, needy.
It takes effort for him to open his eyes again, but he wanted to watch Mettaton's own expression, to memorize it just as clearly as every sensation, fully conscious of just how much he wanted him in that moment. So focused on that thought, that he's slightly startled when he feels his legs parted, sucking in a quick, sharp breath at feeling Mettaton's thigh between them. A feeling that was more than welcome, though he can't help but squeeze a little at it between his legs.
Nor can he help resuming that kiss either, especially not with Mettaton luring him in with that brush to his lips, the sound of his hum. Lips that felt slightly tender from all of this attention, but that was hardly about to dissuade the Ascian from anything, least of all from deepening the kiss with a smothered sound, his desperation for it evident in every line of him.]
no subject
Not much of one, as he watches the idol take his thumb into his mouth. It wasn't at all difficult to recall the way his cock had looked and felt, when Mettaton had treated it in the same fashion. And though he doesn't break their shared gaze, Emet-Selch can't help the shudder of memory that passes through him, the answering pang of need in his cock, the way his own lips are parted in sympathy as well as for breath. Even without being touched, it was though he could feel it, the same warmth and slick treatment. Even the brief sight of Mettaton's thumb leaving his mouth was reminiscent of the way his cock had been left, wet and glistening.
It's with rapt attention that he watches Mettaton finally (even though it hadn't been that long, those few moments made quite a lot of themselves in his mind) lower his hand to wrap around his cock once more. Though at the first brush of resumed contact, the Ascian's eyes close for several seconds, and he swallows heavily at the sensation. The firmer pressure of Mettaton's thumb leaving a wet trail along the full length of his erection, the smoother way he continued to rub over the tip of him. Softer noises are carried on his breath, too indistinct to be proper moans, but frequent, needy.
It takes effort for him to open his eyes again, but he wanted to watch Mettaton's own expression, to memorize it just as clearly as every sensation, fully conscious of just how much he wanted him in that moment. So focused on that thought, that he's slightly startled when he feels his legs parted, sucking in a quick, sharp breath at feeling Mettaton's thigh between them. A feeling that was more than welcome, though he can't help but squeeze a little at it between his legs.
Nor can he help resuming that kiss either, especially not with Mettaton luring him in with that brush to his lips, the sound of his hum. Lips that felt slightly tender from all of this attention, but that was hardly about to dissuade the Ascian from anything, least of all from deepening the kiss with a smothered sound, his desperation for it evident in every line of him.]