[Another moment, another patch of skin marred by ardent sucking, though the Ascian was reluctant to bite down too hard, at least just yet, unsure whether this body could withstand the same sort of grinding pressure as his robotic form. But the results, as they were, both satisfied, and left him with a need for ever more of them. Not only now, but in future- to repeatedly stake his claim on him in this fashion. Though possessiveness was nothing new at this point, the feeling of wanting all others to know that Mettaton was his was, and he wondered then if the puca had the same feeling when marking up his own neck.... It's a thought that leaves him both warm and a bit smug, presuming that of course Mettaton would have the inclination, and why shouldn't he? He was a worthy thing to be possessive of.
The nuzzling provokes a low, rumbling noise of pleasure from him, deep in his own throat, the sensation joining all else that he could feel and hear. The way he was pulled closer, each interruption to Mettaton's breathing, the trembling of skin against his providing the most delicate of friction. The far less delicate shove of the idol's cock against his body, and everything that it meant. The teasing suggestion offered by the brief tug at the front of his pants, though Emet-Selch can only sigh at the resulting throb of his arousal, how immediate his response was to even the thought of having his lover's hands and body pressing over sensitive flesh. How primed he was to react to him, to even the suggestion of him, the sound of his sighs and tone of his voice.]
Ah- yes....
[And the reminder it brought that they were still standing, and another suggestion worth heeding. Though it's with some reluctance that he has to lift his head slightly from Mettaton's neck- leaving it for the moment with another swipe of tongue against a most satisfactory bruised patch- in order to reorient himself in an unfamiliar room. To remember where the bed was, to make sure there was nothing in the way as his hold on his Bonded adjusts, to press and guide him back towards it. Even Mettaton moving to not lean on him to the same degree leaves him off-balance, and with as unsteady as they both were, it was both the most sensible and most comfortable option.
But apart from noting their surroundings out of necessity, Emet-Selch's gaze and attention is pulled back to Mettaton almost immediately, an inexorable pull towards his Bonded. And from looking at him, eyes flitting over his neck, his face, it became just as necessary to kiss him again, leaning up to capture his lips with... altogether more gentleness than he expected. But it's no less intense for it, that longing for him that much more evident, perhaps, in contrast to the soft deliberation in which he presses to his mouth.
...How completely prone they were to each other, he thought. An awareness that weighs heavily upon him, that dragged him under. But it's nothing that he would've changed, even if he could, even if it would be the more sensible thing- to not care, to not be so attached. Shifting a hand up again, he's drawn to touch his face once more, with the same feeling behind it as the kiss: soft but intense.]
no subject
The nuzzling provokes a low, rumbling noise of pleasure from him, deep in his own throat, the sensation joining all else that he could feel and hear. The way he was pulled closer, each interruption to Mettaton's breathing, the trembling of skin against his providing the most delicate of friction. The far less delicate shove of the idol's cock against his body, and everything that it meant. The teasing suggestion offered by the brief tug at the front of his pants, though Emet-Selch can only sigh at the resulting throb of his arousal, how immediate his response was to even the thought of having his lover's hands and body pressing over sensitive flesh. How primed he was to react to him, to even the suggestion of him, the sound of his sighs and tone of his voice.]
Ah- yes....
[And the reminder it brought that they were still standing, and another suggestion worth heeding. Though it's with some reluctance that he has to lift his head slightly from Mettaton's neck- leaving it for the moment with another swipe of tongue against a most satisfactory bruised patch- in order to reorient himself in an unfamiliar room. To remember where the bed was, to make sure there was nothing in the way as his hold on his Bonded adjusts, to press and guide him back towards it. Even Mettaton moving to not lean on him to the same degree leaves him off-balance, and with as unsteady as they both were, it was both the most sensible and most comfortable option.
But apart from noting their surroundings out of necessity, Emet-Selch's gaze and attention is pulled back to Mettaton almost immediately, an inexorable pull towards his Bonded. And from looking at him, eyes flitting over his neck, his face, it became just as necessary to kiss him again, leaning up to capture his lips with... altogether more gentleness than he expected. But it's no less intense for it, that longing for him that much more evident, perhaps, in contrast to the soft deliberation in which he presses to his mouth.
...How completely prone they were to each other, he thought. An awareness that weighs heavily upon him, that dragged him under. But it's nothing that he would've changed, even if he could, even if it would be the more sensible thing- to not care, to not be so attached. Shifting a hand up again, he's drawn to touch his face once more, with the same feeling behind it as the kiss: soft but intense.]