glitzandglamour: (💣103)
Mettaton EX ([personal profile] glitzandglamour) wrote in [personal profile] unsundered 2020-05-17 07:50 am (UTC)

[He doesn't realize it consciously, but his body does: to have each pull of his erection timed with the way he sinks down upon Emet-Selch's cock is a delectable reward. His mind goes as white hot as his body feels. If he rolls his hips more firmly, if he goes faster, if he sits upon him with complete dedication, will that hand around his length squeeze and hasten and follow his lead?

He decides this to be the case. Mettaton shivers, breathing hard and hot against the Ascian's lips as he holds onto him and struggles to kiss, gripping for something to brace himself against while he still tries to bear down on the whole of his length. He's still so tight, and Emet-Selch is so much thicker than fingers are, but it doesn't hurt — not in his revelry.

So Mettaton lifts his hips. He slides up his length, reminding himself what it's like to be made emptier, and finding it to be a shocking sensation. Shocking and needing to be filled.

Just at the ridge of his glans does he stop, hiccuping, tensing at the sudden sign to stop lest he find himself completely empty (intolerable), before he braces himself more solidly against his Bonded. He hasn't ever not been there for him, when he's needed him. He's always trusted him. He can use his body to brace himself in his curiosity to see just how far he can go with his body and his pleasure. He's his inspiration here, his motivation for these impossible heights and tantalizing depths. Somebody who has become so dear to him for all he is and isn't, a compliment to all he is and wants.

Mettaton raises his gaze and pulls back just enough from his lips to make eye contact. Deep, dark violet meets his golden eyes, and his expression impossibly softens some more. How he adores him, he thinks in this moment.

Shuddering in anticipation, Mettaton tries to relax his muscles. All he can think about is how badly he wants the squeeze of his arousal, the fullness of being fucked, and the sound of Emet-Selch's voice conveying his love for him. Muscles in his thighs slacken, and Mettaton finds himself, looser than before, sliding with more ease down the length of his cock. Gradually, bit by bit, being stuffed entirely, and he gasps without exhale all the way until he finds himself sitting upon his lover's hips.

There, he exhales in a full, loud moan. (More vocalizations. He's very vocal, really.) His body squeezes around him, and Mettaton's head lolls on his shoulders.]


Hades...! Oh...

[He almost jolts from his lap, but remains put. The hand around his cock is grounding, for all that it's teasing and pleasurable. Equally pleasurable, he realizes, is the sensation of being filled when he nearly lifts from his lap. He pushes himself back down upon him completely, filling his body with his lover's cock.]

You— I... have all of you. Hah.

[He tries to grin at him proudly. He manages, but he looks a bit dazed, love drunk, flushed, vision cloudy and body trembling. His body moves without him, attempting already to bob up and down upon his length, tensing and untensing in the process. The idol works his hips in short strokes from side to side, a light, blissful noise escaping his throat as he bears down on his hips as though trying to make himself right at home where he sits, Emet-Selch's length as deep inside him as it'll go. He sighs, long and shaky, before he begins to roll his hips again—

This time, his voice is thick, sultry, coming from somewhere deep to convey a sensation yet unknown. His eyelids curtain, and he exhales.]


Oh. Ohhh. You're- Ah...

[With these depths, the way he's found he can stroke himself with the firm head of Emet-Selch's cock... Mettaton's breath hitches, body tensing, before he suddenly begins to lose himself to a particular stroke. A particular pattern of rocking of his hips, up and down, gaze unfocused and strokes quickening as he begins to pant, wrapping his arms desperately around his shoulders again as his body takes over completely in his blinding pleasure. He's almost possessed by it in appearance, staring at Emet-Selch hungrily as his panting is accompanied by short gasps.]

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