[All Mettaton could ask for is someone reactive to him, with full authenticity in response. As much as he delights in being watched and craved, witnessing Emet-Selch's reactions to him fulfills him deeply, smile growing as a deep-seated warmth takes root in his heart. Just as he was both pleasuring and preparing, Mettaton's both interested and priming, learning about his beloved's body so intimately. The Monster leans his body closer in such a manner that has muscles tense, ready to move onto the next step while soaking in this moment for all it's worth.
His eyelid drops a mark and he hums, wanting to kiss him stupid again... But, business first. Untangled as they are, his own gaze follows Emet-Selch's body prostrate before him with a critical eye, yet entirely approving of what he sees: a slight tilt of his head backwards and an edge to his smile that suggests pride, of all things.
Relentlessly, however, his finger works at him. It's only one to begin with, but he pushes in and draws back, only to repeat, slow drags and application of lubricant where he can. Coupled with curl a finger, ever so slight. And he pulls back, barely pulling his fingertip out from him when he presses a second fingertip in next, a gradual shifting and massaging of his body to coax him to allow another slick digit: this one with a focus on coating his entrance.
His free hand reaches for Emet-Selch's cock, teasing his length with a brush of fingertips along its length. Following him from root, to tip: and there, at the glans, he gently pinches him between forefinger and thumb. It's all in the name of his teasing: he doesn't do much more beyond this save for apply increasing pressure to the head of his lover's arousal, a tender sort of rub that grows more firm as the seconds pass. None of it nearly enough to get off on or lose himself to, but all of it a suggestion, a priming for more.]
You... are exactly how I want to see you, Hades-darling. Deciding how I want you most of all. That's the h... hard part, in this.
[There are a couple of hard parts. But that's in a more literal sense.
Releasing Emet-Selch's arousal from under Mettaton's thumb, his fingers skim along his Bonded's inner thigh. Mettaton's other hand continue to work at Emet-Selch, trying to get him to take to the intrusion of his fingers. It's only when he begins to feel him relax at all that he withdraws, suddenly and without warning. A low, scarcely restrained growl leaks from Mettaton's throat as he grips down on the girth of his own arousal and leans forward, free hand coaxing Emet-Selch's leg to return to wrapping securely around his hip.
The Puca guides the slick head of his cock to the Ascian's entrance this time, pushing with urgency against his lover — almost enough to sink in.
It's clear this is because he can hardly take waiting any longer. His breathing is hard, and Mettaton towers over Emet-Selch, hands upon his hips — and gripping down, anchoring him in place, the suggestion of a thrust clear in the tensing of every muscle in his body. A thrust intended to penetrate. And with his hands where they are, he could only force him down upon him with more power, if he wanted. His gaze is possessive and desirous, unrestrained as he swallows around all that he wants.
But he spares these moments to measure his Bonded's response, his absolute craving for everything about him clear as day in their Bond. His body, his essence, his blood, his lips, his attention, his magic, his soul, and his love, all wanted and demanded by the robot.]
no subject
His eyelid drops a mark and he hums, wanting to kiss him stupid again... But, business first. Untangled as they are, his own gaze follows Emet-Selch's body prostrate before him with a critical eye, yet entirely approving of what he sees: a slight tilt of his head backwards and an edge to his smile that suggests pride, of all things.
Relentlessly, however, his finger works at him. It's only one to begin with, but he pushes in and draws back, only to repeat, slow drags and application of lubricant where he can. Coupled with curl a finger, ever so slight. And he pulls back, barely pulling his fingertip out from him when he presses a second fingertip in next, a gradual shifting and massaging of his body to coax him to allow another slick digit: this one with a focus on coating his entrance.
His free hand reaches for Emet-Selch's cock, teasing his length with a brush of fingertips along its length. Following him from root, to tip: and there, at the glans, he gently pinches him between forefinger and thumb. It's all in the name of his teasing: he doesn't do much more beyond this save for apply increasing pressure to the head of his lover's arousal, a tender sort of rub that grows more firm as the seconds pass. None of it nearly enough to get off on or lose himself to, but all of it a suggestion, a priming for more.]
You... are exactly how I want to see you, Hades-darling. Deciding how I want you most of all. That's the h... hard part, in this.
[There are a couple of hard parts. But that's in a more literal sense.
Releasing Emet-Selch's arousal from under Mettaton's thumb, his fingers skim along his Bonded's inner thigh. Mettaton's other hand continue to work at Emet-Selch, trying to get him to take to the intrusion of his fingers. It's only when he begins to feel him relax at all that he withdraws, suddenly and without warning. A low, scarcely restrained growl leaks from Mettaton's throat as he grips down on the girth of his own arousal and leans forward, free hand coaxing Emet-Selch's leg to return to wrapping securely around his hip.
The Puca guides the slick head of his cock to the Ascian's entrance this time, pushing with urgency against his lover — almost enough to sink in.
It's clear this is because he can hardly take waiting any longer. His breathing is hard, and Mettaton towers over Emet-Selch, hands upon his hips — and gripping down, anchoring him in place, the suggestion of a thrust clear in the tensing of every muscle in his body. A thrust intended to penetrate. And with his hands where they are, he could only force him down upon him with more power, if he wanted. His gaze is possessive and desirous, unrestrained as he swallows around all that he wants.
But he spares these moments to measure his Bonded's response, his absolute craving for everything about him clear as day in their Bond. His body, his essence, his blood, his lips, his attention, his magic, his soul, and his love, all wanted and demanded by the robot.]