glitzandglamour: (💣053)
Mettaton EX ([personal profile] glitzandglamour) wrote in [personal profile] unsundered 2020-05-05 11:58 pm (UTC)

[Emet-Selch is on the same wavelength as Mettaton. If he has his body before him, if Emet-Selch commands his attention entirely, how could he err? For all that his last attempts haunt him with their uncanny terrors manifested on his very own body, that's a thing of history if he has a proper example right before him. A reminder of what he wants, in the flesh.

And to be pulled into such a rough kiss... Mettaton starts, but he quickly takes the mood of his Bonded and runs with it, like adding gasoline to fire. He presses into him, shuttering his eye with a soft sigh of pleasure while a hand roams his chest. He feels for skin, the press of tissue and muscle, and not a single exposed rib. Naturally: everything here is properly formed. He doesn't even let himself think of those mistakes, instead slipping comfortably into desire for the other man. His pressure, his taste, and his touch... And soon, his warmth.

Because the Ascian's demand and dare is communicated crystal clear, and it settles into him as a hybrid mix of jealousy and daring for himself. He wants what he feels, both to steal his form, and to consume his body. Even to witness him edging toward breathless when he ends their kiss, Mettaton admires such a reaction and fixates on it. It's easy to do, considering how often he wants to render him in that way.

Mettaton responds well to the pressure of confidence. It feels like his only option is what's at his fingertips. He continues to prod flesh, to run his palm along skin, a smooth plane of distraction. Even as he caresses his thumb along scars, the whole of him only serves to tantalize the robot to his own pursuits.

He emits a short, breathy laugh. This was going to be easy. Why ever did he find it would be so difficult before? He pushes forward even in Emet-Selch's grip to recapture his lips in a firm kiss, swiping his tongue along his lower lip.

The idol's smile is cocky when he pulls back, keeping Emet-Selch's face in view.]


Yes... Yes. With a sight like you set before me, right now... For me to touch and experience. I'll finally achieve my best attempt yet. Now.

[Mettaton reaches up to readjust one of Emet-Selch's hands. The one on the right side of his face is made to remain, though he tosses his head to ensure that his lover's fingers remain pressed directly against the half of his face that's incomplete under that fringe of his bangs. A calculated move: a reminder that not... missing part of his face? (Even if it's incomplete. That doesn't translate well to being human, it turns out.) His other hand is free to do as he pleases. Mettaton's fingers return to busy with his chest.]

Do your worst, and I'll do mine.

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