[Catch Mettaton grinning at that frown. He's right! He's excessive. And yet it's the one with his mortal form who would egg him on...
(Did anyone actually manage to constrain him, or did Mettaton just do whatever he wanted as soon as he got his body, stopped only by the barrier itself? He definitely did whatever he wanted and everyone, everyone, was along for the ride. Not just his companions. Mettaton doesn't even care to revisit this topic, but he'd clarify as much.)
An ascending noise of amusement escapes from his throat as his Bonded closes in on him despite everything, finding this moment to be all the more delectable for its... excessiveness. An indulgence that continues to taste like both of them, a sign that he's thoroughly had Emet-Selch; the full sensation of him once again has the robot humming softly into the kiss, captivated by his weight, his taste, his skin, and his very being. Mettaton's reciprocation suggests that he really would have more of him, though, as his hands wander down his back to grip at the Ascian's hips and tugs him more firmly against his body, bold and demanding. He sucks back on his tongue, presses up and into him as an expression of his boundless want, taking the kiss (and perhaps even demanding he give it) for as long as Emet-Selch has the mortal capacity for it.
The inevitability of breaking away from him exists, even if it's not by Mettaton's need. As soon as it does, Mettaton gives his hips a squeeze and grins again, his eye fixed and narrow, sharp, gold, and predatory for not only being a Puca, but also for being beneath his lover.]
Oh...? I didn't realize a mortal form was a constraint...
[Any breathlessness on Mettaton's part is psychologically induced, as usual, but he's clearly affected.]
It only means I could take you... until you couldn't walk. Oh yes... I am insatiable.
no subject
(Did anyone actually manage to constrain him, or did Mettaton just do whatever he wanted as soon as he got his body, stopped only by the barrier itself? He definitely did whatever he wanted and everyone, everyone, was along for the ride. Not just his companions. Mettaton doesn't even care to revisit this topic, but he'd clarify as much.)
An ascending noise of amusement escapes from his throat as his Bonded closes in on him despite everything, finding this moment to be all the more delectable for its... excessiveness. An indulgence that continues to taste like both of them, a sign that he's thoroughly had Emet-Selch; the full sensation of him once again has the robot humming softly into the kiss, captivated by his weight, his taste, his skin, and his very being. Mettaton's reciprocation suggests that he really would have more of him, though, as his hands wander down his back to grip at the Ascian's hips and tugs him more firmly against his body, bold and demanding. He sucks back on his tongue, presses up and into him as an expression of his boundless want, taking the kiss (and perhaps even demanding he give it) for as long as Emet-Selch has the mortal capacity for it.
The inevitability of breaking away from him exists, even if it's not by Mettaton's need. As soon as it does, Mettaton gives his hips a squeeze and grins again, his eye fixed and narrow, sharp, gold, and predatory for not only being a Puca, but also for being beneath his lover.]
Oh...? I didn't realize a mortal form was a constraint...
[Any breathlessness on Mettaton's part is psychologically induced, as usual, but he's clearly affected.]
It only means I could take you... until you couldn't walk. Oh yes... I am insatiable.