[And that first bite sends a jolt coursing through Mettaton, clenching his teeth with a sharp hiss of his own. He curves his back against the mattress into his lover while he clutches him closer, offering yet more of his neck for the taking.]
Ahhh—!! Yes, yesss! Ha-Hades...!
[Each bite has Mettaton writhing, crying out, tensing, gripping into his thigh desperately, reaching for more unexplored skin that he can sink his fingers into. It hurts, but that strong sensation is like nothing else to the robot. He's wracked with shudders, each move on Emet-Selch's part earning another stuttering sound as though Mettaton's trying to make some kind of noise or say anything at all, but can't form them in to words.
He tries to move a leg and it jerks instead, tensing in ways beyond his control while his mind processes only the ecstasy he finds in pain, pleasure given to him by a lover. Emet-Selch's claim over him, but it's Mettaton's claim over pain. It dizzies him as he notices just how hard Emet-Selch's biting in to his neck, and he wouldn't have it any other way than to have him sinking his teeth into him as firmly as he can manage. It renders Mettaton into a gasping mess, a reaction to intensity more than anything.
Could they grow so close that they'd always feel each other, even while apart? That darkness of Emet-Selch's that feels like an indulgence, an odd embrace that still makes his entire world feel like it belongs to him and him alone, too easy to slip into. Every time he tries to focus on the pressure of his soul, it overwhelms, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He sighs a note of affection, paying mind to the way his Bonded grips onto his chest plate with a tinge of fondness.
His fingers stroke firmly against his inner thigh, idly appreciating the twitches of muscle, flirting dangerously north inch by curious inch, yet never neglecting to dig into him, desirous. His other hand shifts from his lower back, gripping down on his ass with the sensuous intent to pull him close. As ever, the presence of his arousal, framed gently between the muscle of his thighs, continues to fascinate as he twitches and pushes into him, a heady, delirious thrill accompanying it all.
He wonders if it's these forays into the depths of passion that make it so that each time, he comes out loving him more deeply than before. Mettaton bites down on his lip, stifling another moan in his throat, wishing he could bury his face against the Ascian's neck. His need for him at his neck outweighs this desire, however.]
D... Don't stop...!
[Receiving pleasure of such intensity and having it stripped from him? He can't imagine it. Only these heights of sensation would do.]
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Ahhh—!! Yes, yesss! Ha-Hades...!
[Each bite has Mettaton writhing, crying out, tensing, gripping into his thigh desperately, reaching for more unexplored skin that he can sink his fingers into. It hurts, but that strong sensation is like nothing else to the robot. He's wracked with shudders, each move on Emet-Selch's part earning another stuttering sound as though Mettaton's trying to make some kind of noise or say anything at all, but can't form them in to words.
He tries to move a leg and it jerks instead, tensing in ways beyond his control while his mind processes only the ecstasy he finds in pain, pleasure given to him by a lover. Emet-Selch's claim over him, but it's Mettaton's claim over pain. It dizzies him as he notices just how hard Emet-Selch's biting in to his neck, and he wouldn't have it any other way than to have him sinking his teeth into him as firmly as he can manage. It renders Mettaton into a gasping mess, a reaction to intensity more than anything.
Could they grow so close that they'd always feel each other, even while apart? That darkness of Emet-Selch's that feels like an indulgence, an odd embrace that still makes his entire world feel like it belongs to him and him alone, too easy to slip into. Every time he tries to focus on the pressure of his soul, it overwhelms, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He sighs a note of affection, paying mind to the way his Bonded grips onto his chest plate with a tinge of fondness.
His fingers stroke firmly against his inner thigh, idly appreciating the twitches of muscle, flirting dangerously north inch by curious inch, yet never neglecting to dig into him, desirous. His other hand shifts from his lower back, gripping down on his ass with the sensuous intent to pull him close. As ever, the presence of his arousal, framed gently between the muscle of his thighs, continues to fascinate as he twitches and pushes into him, a heady, delirious thrill accompanying it all.
He wonders if it's these forays into the depths of passion that make it so that each time, he comes out loving him more deeply than before. Mettaton bites down on his lip, stifling another moan in his throat, wishing he could bury his face against the Ascian's neck. His need for him at his neck outweighs this desire, however.]
D... Don't stop...!
[Receiving pleasure of such intensity and having it stripped from him? He can't imagine it. Only these heights of sensation would do.]