[Affection underwrote it all, he was realizing. From kissing to nuzzles, the gentle brush of a hand across skin, or the hard drag of a cock: it was affection the whole time. Fortunately, it's not a thought that inspires panic at this point, only another resurgence of fondness and care, and a kind of bewilderment that it was possible to share in something like this with another. To have him in both lust and love.
Mettaton pressing forward, thrusting against him has the Ascian continue clinging to his legs as a result, though he manages to drag his hands around to grip the back of his thighs instead, in a press too firm to be called a simple stroke. And from there, drifting up to his ass, squeezing him, pulling him closer still.
Though a small, disapproving sound begins to form in his throat when Mettaton sits up, separating the contact of their cocks, it never gets a chance to escape when he feels his length taken into his lover's hand instead- and all protest is forgotten the moment the sensitive head of his arousal is brought against the other man's entrance. A suggestion of movement, of pressure, and he craves it with that much more intensity in that instant, the rush of his need leaving him tense, shuddering. And with Mettaton's words layered on top, it's such an easy thing to imagine: to feel the tip of his cock disappear into him, to be surrounded by his heat, held with such complete intimacy. And from there, to grab onto Mettaton's hips and drag him lower, onto his body, to have him yield entirely around his length, taking him entirely. To have their bodies flush together, to feel and claim him in another way, to fill him with his cock, and eventually his come--]
Gods, Mettaton--
[It's more than enough to trigger a breathy sort of gasp, erection twitching up against him, so close to the promise of greater warmth, and his hands massage over Mettaton's ass, fingers drifting dangerously inward. Somehow, he was meant to reply in the midst of all of this, and his voice was certainly no less strained than before.]
How- how convenient. To want the same thing....
[But they were both unprepared, which has the Ascian reluctantly release his hold on the idol- with one hand, anyway, head turning, arm casting about where he thought he remembered Mettaton leaving the lubrication he'd thoughtfully acquired. A search that feels like it takes far longer than it probably does, especially when it comes to the demands from his cock. And though it takes some leaning and stretching on his part, he finally succeeds in snagging it and getting some onto his fingers.
And while he considered going first to his own arousal, he finds himself reaching for Mettaton's side of things instead. It might feel a bit chilled at first, but- temperature differences were still a novelty, right?
Tugging at his thigh with his less-occupied hand, an encouragement towards keeping his legs appropriately spread, Emet-Selch slips his other hand between them. Nudging his own cock out of the way, he replaces its pressure against Mettaton's entrance with that of slick fingers, giving it a slow, teasing sort of rub, before pushing one inside of him with a steady insistence.
Tilting his head forward, he presses a shaky kiss to the base of Mettaton's throat.]
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Mettaton pressing forward, thrusting against him has the Ascian continue clinging to his legs as a result, though he manages to drag his hands around to grip the back of his thighs instead, in a press too firm to be called a simple stroke. And from there, drifting up to his ass, squeezing him, pulling him closer still.
Though a small, disapproving sound begins to form in his throat when Mettaton sits up, separating the contact of their cocks, it never gets a chance to escape when he feels his length taken into his lover's hand instead- and all protest is forgotten the moment the sensitive head of his arousal is brought against the other man's entrance. A suggestion of movement, of pressure, and he craves it with that much more intensity in that instant, the rush of his need leaving him tense, shuddering. And with Mettaton's words layered on top, it's such an easy thing to imagine: to feel the tip of his cock disappear into him, to be surrounded by his heat, held with such complete intimacy. And from there, to grab onto Mettaton's hips and drag him lower, onto his body, to have him yield entirely around his length, taking him entirely. To have their bodies flush together, to feel and claim him in another way, to fill him with his cock, and eventually his come--]
Gods, Mettaton--
[It's more than enough to trigger a breathy sort of gasp, erection twitching up against him, so close to the promise of greater warmth, and his hands massage over Mettaton's ass, fingers drifting dangerously inward. Somehow, he was meant to reply in the midst of all of this, and his voice was certainly no less strained than before.]
How- how convenient. To want the same thing....
[But they were both unprepared, which has the Ascian reluctantly release his hold on the idol- with one hand, anyway, head turning, arm casting about where he thought he remembered Mettaton leaving the lubrication he'd thoughtfully acquired. A search that feels like it takes far longer than it probably does, especially when it comes to the demands from his cock. And though it takes some leaning and stretching on his part, he finally succeeds in snagging it and getting some onto his fingers.
And while he considered going first to his own arousal, he finds himself reaching for Mettaton's side of things instead. It might feel a bit chilled at first, but- temperature differences were still a novelty, right?
Tugging at his thigh with his less-occupied hand, an encouragement towards keeping his legs appropriately spread, Emet-Selch slips his other hand between them. Nudging his own cock out of the way, he replaces its pressure against Mettaton's entrance with that of slick fingers, giving it a slow, teasing sort of rub, before pushing one inside of him with a steady insistence.
Tilting his head forward, he presses a shaky kiss to the base of Mettaton's throat.]