[It was the sort of kiss that he could vanish into, that he could feel long after the puca pulled away from it, as though it had left a deeper imprint than the brush of tongue or lips would imply.
And though he whines a little at the kiss being broken and Mettaton pulling away from it, Emet-Selch was too caught up in it all to chase after him, eyes unfocused and half-open, what attention he can gather fixed solely upon his Bonded.
The Ascian doesn't think about what he must look like, not having the capacity remaining to even consider it. Nor would he have cared to be so obviously a mess- at least physically. What shame was there to be so marked over, claimed, or possessed? The vulnerability of effect was another thing altogether, but with Mettaton there was no hesitation. And no guard in Emet-Selch's expression, panting and almost stricken, lips damp from deep kisses and his own heavy exhalations. Flushed and too-warm, sweat sticks the strands of his bangs to his forehead, and the rest of his hair is in little better condition.
Nor can he keep his eyes open as he grows closer, his panting containing cries that continue to sharpen, as though shaving away the last remnants of his control. His world was reduced to the hand manipulating his cock, and the body holding him in place, keeping him secure. A sense of helplessness joined it that wasn't at all terrible or frightening, that Emet-Selch wanted to give himself over to entirely.
His legs tremble, hand clutching and kneading at him, pleading moans and cries growing louder as his breath is converted into sound, rather than taken by kisses. His head half-presses into the mattress, as though desperate for any sort of anchor, but in the end all he could do was let go of himself completely, climaxing into Mettaton's hand with a protracted shudder.
Even then, his sounds don't immediately stop, only weaken, soften. The same as his grip, his entire body curling against Mettaton, just as desperate as before, but in a different sort of way. Emet-Selch's breathing is unsteady, overwhelmed entirely- mostly emotional, but physicality was there too, underlying and intensifying the rest. It went beyond affection and longing, but it hurt, and left him on the verge of tears from the weight of it.]
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And though he whines a little at the kiss being broken and Mettaton pulling away from it, Emet-Selch was too caught up in it all to chase after him, eyes unfocused and half-open, what attention he can gather fixed solely upon his Bonded.
The Ascian doesn't think about what he must look like, not having the capacity remaining to even consider it. Nor would he have cared to be so obviously a mess- at least physically. What shame was there to be so marked over, claimed, or possessed? The vulnerability of effect was another thing altogether, but with Mettaton there was no hesitation. And no guard in Emet-Selch's expression, panting and almost stricken, lips damp from deep kisses and his own heavy exhalations. Flushed and too-warm, sweat sticks the strands of his bangs to his forehead, and the rest of his hair is in little better condition.
Nor can he keep his eyes open as he grows closer, his panting containing cries that continue to sharpen, as though shaving away the last remnants of his control. His world was reduced to the hand manipulating his cock, and the body holding him in place, keeping him secure. A sense of helplessness joined it that wasn't at all terrible or frightening, that Emet-Selch wanted to give himself over to entirely.
His legs tremble, hand clutching and kneading at him, pleading moans and cries growing louder as his breath is converted into sound, rather than taken by kisses. His head half-presses into the mattress, as though desperate for any sort of anchor, but in the end all he could do was let go of himself completely, climaxing into Mettaton's hand with a protracted shudder.
Even then, his sounds don't immediately stop, only weaken, soften. The same as his grip, his entire body curling against Mettaton, just as desperate as before, but in a different sort of way. Emet-Selch's breathing is unsteady, overwhelmed entirely- mostly emotional, but physicality was there too, underlying and intensifying the rest. It went beyond affection and longing, but it hurt, and left him on the verge of tears from the weight of it.]