[A smile splits across his face, taken aback by the sincerity of the compliment. It's the second like it in a night — and how do they feel so different from others he's received? Unburdened by reserve, not especially directed toward the body he wears or the image he projects, but him, and Mettaton never thought a compliment to his beauty could really penetrate him so thoroughly. There's the addition of Emet-Selch's freshly freed hands moving, the fact that he first uses them to prop himself up, then to brush aside his bangs. Somehow, that touches him all the bit more. He distills the experience into one uniquely shared between lovers, and light, spirited affection overwhelms him.
A human body betrays how it makes him feel, bringing color to his cheeks to accompany his fondness. He opens his mouth to reply, but has nothing. So he rubs his cheek into his arousal of all things, a short, airy laugh escaping his throat. After all, Mettaton likes compliments — that he could find some among the most sincere in this bedroom with his lover is both a surprise and nothing short of what he'd anticipate, but it catches his heart all the same. He casts his vision down to his body for a moment, to let his eyes drink in the sight of his abdomen littered with warm-colored bruises, and then brings his attention back to Emet-Selch's face as he lets the head sink into his mouth, lips parting easily and eagerly for his length.
The robot stops again just beyond the corona, his eyelids curtaining as he pays special attention to sucking on the head. The last time he did this to Emet-Selch was the first time he'd ever touched him so intimately, and since then he's experienced what it's like to possess a body that responds like his. It betrays the way Mettaton views pleasure in his own body: this excess focus on the head, the way his tongue slides down to the ridge, which it follows by eager touch. He sighs through his nose, enjoying this deliberate act of affection, the way his jaw tightens with the pressure he exerts on his Bonded's cock. His tongue flattens and rubs broadly along the underside of the tip before focusing its attention on the slit, firm, pointed strokes a sort of coaxing to suggest the idol's anticipation to taste him.
He pulls off of his erection for a moment, lips still shoved directly against the length of it in a stricken sigh. His tongue slips from between his lips to more visibly flick along the very tip of his cock, drawing swirls and hard, firm lines along its sensitive surface.
If there's anything he wants to do, it's to drink in the sight of his Bonded lover just as he did to him. This entire process would be spent to watching, though he already appreciates so thoroughly the way he appears so ravaged in body, desperate in tone, and breathless and heated in manner. Distracted, enticed, his focus belongs to Mettaton, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He smiles proudly, a determined streak to keep his attentions and to dizzy the Ascian, to tear from him his climax.
He accompanies these thoughts with a firm kiss against the tip.]
It's a look I could only have for you.
[He can't imagine it being anything else, and he wishes he knew what he looked like.
Mettaton's lips part again, and he returns to sliding down the length of Emet-Selch's cock. Further this time, slow and deliberate, and he swallows hard enough for his tongue to buckle under the firm weight of his shaft, feeling the smooth, cushioned head of his arousal pressing into such tender areas within his mouth. It feels different to take him into his mouth in this body compared to his other, and he halts here, adjusting for the size of him with a shudder, a groan shaking in his throat while he imagines the tip of his arousal nudged deeply, pressing to the back of his throat. He glances up to Emet-Selch to measure his response, his own face flushed further yet, riding on the bliss of his lover's appreciation for his beauty and his want to be stuffed full of his cock, to swallow against the head of it.]
no subject
A human body betrays how it makes him feel, bringing color to his cheeks to accompany his fondness. He opens his mouth to reply, but has nothing. So he rubs his cheek into his arousal of all things, a short, airy laugh escaping his throat. After all, Mettaton likes compliments — that he could find some among the most sincere in this bedroom with his lover is both a surprise and nothing short of what he'd anticipate, but it catches his heart all the same. He casts his vision down to his body for a moment, to let his eyes drink in the sight of his abdomen littered with warm-colored bruises, and then brings his attention back to Emet-Selch's face as he lets the head sink into his mouth, lips parting easily and eagerly for his length.
The robot stops again just beyond the corona, his eyelids curtaining as he pays special attention to sucking on the head. The last time he did this to Emet-Selch was the first time he'd ever touched him so intimately, and since then he's experienced what it's like to possess a body that responds like his. It betrays the way Mettaton views pleasure in his own body: this excess focus on the head, the way his tongue slides down to the ridge, which it follows by eager touch. He sighs through his nose, enjoying this deliberate act of affection, the way his jaw tightens with the pressure he exerts on his Bonded's cock. His tongue flattens and rubs broadly along the underside of the tip before focusing its attention on the slit, firm, pointed strokes a sort of coaxing to suggest the idol's anticipation to taste him.
He pulls off of his erection for a moment, lips still shoved directly against the length of it in a stricken sigh. His tongue slips from between his lips to more visibly flick along the very tip of his cock, drawing swirls and hard, firm lines along its sensitive surface.
If there's anything he wants to do, it's to drink in the sight of his Bonded lover just as he did to him. This entire process would be spent to watching, though he already appreciates so thoroughly the way he appears so ravaged in body, desperate in tone, and breathless and heated in manner. Distracted, enticed, his focus belongs to Mettaton, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He smiles proudly, a determined streak to keep his attentions and to dizzy the Ascian, to tear from him his climax.
He accompanies these thoughts with a firm kiss against the tip.]
It's a look I could only have for you.
[He can't imagine it being anything else, and he wishes he knew what he looked like.
Mettaton's lips part again, and he returns to sliding down the length of Emet-Selch's cock. Further this time, slow and deliberate, and he swallows hard enough for his tongue to buckle under the firm weight of his shaft, feeling the smooth, cushioned head of his arousal pressing into such tender areas within his mouth. It feels different to take him into his mouth in this body compared to his other, and he halts here, adjusting for the size of him with a shudder, a groan shaking in his throat while he imagines the tip of his arousal nudged deeply, pressing to the back of his throat. He glances up to Emet-Selch to measure his response, his own face flushed further yet, riding on the bliss of his lover's appreciation for his beauty and his want to be stuffed full of his cock, to swallow against the head of it.]