[If Mettaton had a hard time controlling those small jerks to his hips, the Ascian had a hard time dealing with the result of them, sensitive to each shift, shivering softly through them, only remembering to breathe again when they pause. Something that he'd have to figure a way to work around, if any movement on Mettaton's part had him forgetting the requirements for air....
If it's not quite composure that he regains when Mettaton shifts enough to meet his eyes, his face so close- it's a different shade of attentiveness. Taking in the sight of him like that, skin hot and hair in disarray, the effects of his continued passion obvious. And- the gentleness of the hand touching his face, stroking through similarly damp hair. His breathing goes shallow, as though not to disturb the moment, stilling as he memorizes this instant, both in sight and touch. Appreciating the contrasts that could exist simultaneously: the explicit, demanding needs imposed by their bodies, the desire to bite and consume and possess, as well as softness and gentleness, smaller touches that felt no less intimate. Care was expressed through both, and fondness, and Emet-Selch still didn't know how it was possible to have all of this at once--
A shuddered breath; his thoughts are scattered--
And a kiss that felt... right. That oriented him anew, settled him in a strange way, for all that it couldn't calm the needs of his body, or the ache of his heart. A press of lips that he answers, focused on the firm softness of Mettaton's against his, the hint of breath and damp, the warmth of his face. And then his words, nearly a taunt, if a friendly one- provokes a huff of a sound from him, a note of amusement in it.]
How... nosy you are.
[Though if Mettaton wanted more of an answer to his words, he certainly wasn't making it easy. Thought collecting was one thing: a challenge in itself, to put words to things the Ascian knew, and felt. A level of consciousness required that Emet-Selch would've assumed to be distracting, a detraction from the experience it in order to think about it... but if anything, he realized he felt that much more aware of it all in his attempt. Near-mindless reactivity and thoughtful assessment- both had their appeal and advantages, he reconsidered.
Or what passed for thoughtfulness, in any case, which kept trying to veer into the straightforward and simple demands of his body for more, for this feeling to continue as endlessly as it could. Leaning into his kiss, Emet-Selch gasps sharply around his tongue at being so suddenly filled in entirety, his lover's hips pressed tight to his body, cock shoved fully within him. A hardness he could feel so distinctly, every detail of him- a sensation he wasn't even starting to get used to when Mettaton began to move, and he shuddered with each thrust, legs tensing with each inward push. Each time he could feel the whole of his length, a claim repeated.
Sucking back on his tongue, he's aware of having two parts of Mettaton inside him at once, a thought that has him moan again, for all that it's mostly lost between their mouths. And for all that Emet-Selch attempts to hang onto words, there was a limit to what he was physically capable of expressing, at the moment. The one drawback to kissing him. Leaving the idol's tongue with a drag of teeth, he finally breaks the kiss with a hiss of breath and effort. If Mettaton wanted a reply, he'd have to manage one, despite the movements of his lover's cock, taking him, his own body rocking up to meet him, to press him somehow deeper still--]
H... Harder. I want- to feel you after- to... to remember--
[And not in the way of pain or damage like the first time, but the more congenial sort of soreness that came with having a body well used, fully taken and possessed.]
no subject
If it's not quite composure that he regains when Mettaton shifts enough to meet his eyes, his face so close- it's a different shade of attentiveness. Taking in the sight of him like that, skin hot and hair in disarray, the effects of his continued passion obvious. And- the gentleness of the hand touching his face, stroking through similarly damp hair. His breathing goes shallow, as though not to disturb the moment, stilling as he memorizes this instant, both in sight and touch. Appreciating the contrasts that could exist simultaneously: the explicit, demanding needs imposed by their bodies, the desire to bite and consume and possess, as well as softness and gentleness, smaller touches that felt no less intimate. Care was expressed through both, and fondness, and Emet-Selch still didn't know how it was possible to have all of this at once--
A shuddered breath; his thoughts are scattered--
And a kiss that felt... right. That oriented him anew, settled him in a strange way, for all that it couldn't calm the needs of his body, or the ache of his heart. A press of lips that he answers, focused on the firm softness of Mettaton's against his, the hint of breath and damp, the warmth of his face. And then his words, nearly a taunt, if a friendly one- provokes a huff of a sound from him, a note of amusement in it.]
How... nosy you are.
[Though if Mettaton wanted more of an answer to his words, he certainly wasn't making it easy. Thought collecting was one thing: a challenge in itself, to put words to things the Ascian knew, and felt. A level of consciousness required that Emet-Selch would've assumed to be distracting, a detraction from the experience it in order to think about it... but if anything, he realized he felt that much more aware of it all in his attempt. Near-mindless reactivity and thoughtful assessment- both had their appeal and advantages, he reconsidered.
Or what passed for thoughtfulness, in any case, which kept trying to veer into the straightforward and simple demands of his body for more, for this feeling to continue as endlessly as it could. Leaning into his kiss, Emet-Selch gasps sharply around his tongue at being so suddenly filled in entirety, his lover's hips pressed tight to his body, cock shoved fully within him. A hardness he could feel so distinctly, every detail of him- a sensation he wasn't even starting to get used to when Mettaton began to move, and he shuddered with each thrust, legs tensing with each inward push. Each time he could feel the whole of his length, a claim repeated.
Sucking back on his tongue, he's aware of having two parts of Mettaton inside him at once, a thought that has him moan again, for all that it's mostly lost between their mouths. And for all that Emet-Selch attempts to hang onto words, there was a limit to what he was physically capable of expressing, at the moment. The one drawback to kissing him. Leaving the idol's tongue with a drag of teeth, he finally breaks the kiss with a hiss of breath and effort. If Mettaton wanted a reply, he'd have to manage one, despite the movements of his lover's cock, taking him, his own body rocking up to meet him, to press him somehow deeper still--]
H... Harder. I want- to feel you after- to... to remember--
[And not in the way of pain or damage like the first time, but the more congenial sort of soreness that came with having a body well used, fully taken and possessed.]