[The idol shudders with a sigh at the sensation of his lip being bitten with such intent in conjunction with the renewed presence of Emet-Selch's hardening arousal. But even as he kneads his fingers into his skin, he can't help but repeat him. One of his long ears, pressed against the bed as they are, flicks in interest.]
... For now...?
[It's said quietly, lightly, curiously, with the quirk of his eyebrow. Nothing demanding further commentary, given how easily Mettaton can move along once it's been spoken. As far as his body goes, being a machine, when wouldn't he have this advantage over Emet-Selch with regards to wrecking him? (When is he going to lose this advantage?)
It's not a concern of his, given what else he has to focus on laid out immediately before him. Mettaton excitedly shifts his leg against his cock to encourage him, exacting a number of greedy kisses as soon as Emet-Selch quits talking. Pressing into him with just his fingers becomes his full hands, palming him and gripping into his flesh with an edge of craving. He hums, both in satisfaction and in thought, before taking Emet-Selch in for one last firm kiss. Their connection by Bond, by soul, remains a pleasant presence, an acknowledged warmth that only serves to deepen what he feels of and for his Bonded.]
Well. It's hardly ambitious, for me. My battery's fine. Don't worry, Hades-darling. I don't need to stop. [How reassuring, that MTT doesn't need to stop.] No risk of overheating right now... I was built to move.
[Now that all of its movement-related flaws have been recognized and addressed. The ears manage to be nothing but helpful to mitigate overheating, too. Though with the changes he's undergone in his anatomy, Mettaton could see how he might find himself with disagreeable legs, as he has before. But he rather likes the sensation of them trembling, giving in just by Emet-Selch's ministrations. Even the thought has him squirming, a focus placed on the drag of his erection against his body.
Mettaton licks at Emet-Selch's lips and steals him up in a wet kiss, demanding the Ascian's continued closeness with the shift of his hips. Sure, if he'll allow him, Mettaton will eagerly take him a fourth time. Even a fifth time, he's sure, even though the notion dazes the Puca. The very thought has his consciousness abuzz with static. What would it do to this host of his lover's, to be brought to orgasm times in a row? Against his lips, Mettaton smirks.]
Hmm... I think. I could keep going until you couldn't see straight...
no subject
... For now...?
[It's said quietly, lightly, curiously, with the quirk of his eyebrow. Nothing demanding further commentary, given how easily Mettaton can move along once it's been spoken. As far as his body goes, being a machine, when wouldn't he have this advantage over Emet-Selch with regards to wrecking him? (When is he going to lose this advantage?)
It's not a concern of his, given what else he has to focus on laid out immediately before him. Mettaton excitedly shifts his leg against his cock to encourage him, exacting a number of greedy kisses as soon as Emet-Selch quits talking. Pressing into him with just his fingers becomes his full hands, palming him and gripping into his flesh with an edge of craving. He hums, both in satisfaction and in thought, before taking Emet-Selch in for one last firm kiss. Their connection by Bond, by soul, remains a pleasant presence, an acknowledged warmth that only serves to deepen what he feels of and for his Bonded.]
Well. It's hardly ambitious, for me. My battery's fine. Don't worry, Hades-darling. I don't need to stop. [How reassuring, that MTT doesn't need to stop.] No risk of overheating right now... I was built to move.
[Now that all of its movement-related flaws have been recognized and addressed. The ears manage to be nothing but helpful to mitigate overheating, too. Though with the changes he's undergone in his anatomy, Mettaton could see how he might find himself with disagreeable legs, as he has before. But he rather likes the sensation of them trembling, giving in just by Emet-Selch's ministrations. Even the thought has him squirming, a focus placed on the drag of his erection against his body.
Mettaton licks at Emet-Selch's lips and steals him up in a wet kiss, demanding the Ascian's continued closeness with the shift of his hips. Sure, if he'll allow him, Mettaton will eagerly take him a fourth time. Even a fifth time, he's sure, even though the notion dazes the Puca. The very thought has his consciousness abuzz with static. What would it do to this host of his lover's, to be brought to orgasm times in a row? Against his lips, Mettaton smirks.]
Hmm... I think. I could keep going until you couldn't see straight...