[The sight of Mettaton flushed was new, he realized, and very welcome. Another thing he hadn't been able to see on him before, and it softens his thoughts further, and dizzies the Ascian to think how much he cares for him. That a bit of warmed skin or a look or a nuzzle could affect him so badly, could be rendered into an experience entirely unlike he was used to. As with Mettaton as a whole, there was nothing he could take for granted.
Emet-Selch thinks as well of the first time they'd been together like this, the first time Mettaton had taken his cock in his mouth. And how intense it had seemed even then, how open he found himself wanting to be with him, as though he could trust him on a level he hadn't yet been aware of. It felt as though a lot had happened in a short time to bring them to this point, gazing at each other like this, filled with a disturbing amount of affection.
His fingertips touch the side of Mettaton's face, still attracted to that extra bit of heat there, wondering if he was just imagining that he could discern a difference in the temperature. But he strokes his skin, brushes his hair back with exceeding gentleness, and a hand that was trembling so faintly. Breathes in a soft, sharp breath at Mettaton taking in the fullness of the head of his cock, at lips encircling the ridge, the explorations of his tongue along the underside. The more deliberate, repeated prodding over the slit has his breath hitch with a sharp sound, struck hard by the imagery of filling his mouth with his come, and dearly anticipating that moment. And the tightness concentrated around the tip leaves the Ascian repeatedly tensing, pulse pounding in time with the ache in his cock, an ache that only pulsed harder the more Mettaton sucked at him.
It's a noise of both pained regret and relief when Mettaton briefly pulls back from that suction, though Emet-Selch continues to pant and throb from the memory of it. It was an intensity that hurt in the most fantastic sort of way, with each time Mettaton returned to him serving to heighten it. And the persistent licking leaves him no chances to breathe easier, no opportunity to relax, especially when he could watch the way his lover's tongue flicked across the surface of his cock, heat against heat, leaving his erection practically dripping with his saliva. And framing him were his thighs, bruised and slightly bloody, a testament to Mettaton's ardor.
Leaning over him slightly, his head is tilted forward, the movement stretching the bites on his neck and shoulders, straining some of them anew. Only a little blood escapes the torn clots, but the whole area ached from the movement, a distant, still-pleasing echo of the arousal that flooded the rest of him. And as he couldn't exactly see his own throat and not much of his shoulders, it also served as a warm reminder of their condition: another thing he couldn't ever imagine forgetting.
Mettaton's words somehow leave him even warmer than before, ever more affected. That this was special and unique and personal for the both of them- a giving of themselves that others weren't privy to. It's a feeling that carries with him even as he watches his Bonded begin to take in more of his cock, feels the head move deeper into his mouth, and part of the shaft being treated to the greater heat of it. The slickness and the softness of him, the accompanying sounds and clear pleasure on Mettaton's part to be doing this- it leaves him moaning from the magnitude of it all. Low, regular noises and whispers that weren't quite words, and were often cut off by a sharper cry, a tight shudder, whenever he felt a particularly strong beat of arousal. Flushed from need, his eyes are half-open but still watching, transfixed and lost and adoring.]
no subject
Emet-Selch thinks as well of the first time they'd been together like this, the first time Mettaton had taken his cock in his mouth. And how intense it had seemed even then, how open he found himself wanting to be with him, as though he could trust him on a level he hadn't yet been aware of. It felt as though a lot had happened in a short time to bring them to this point, gazing at each other like this, filled with a disturbing amount of affection.
His fingertips touch the side of Mettaton's face, still attracted to that extra bit of heat there, wondering if he was just imagining that he could discern a difference in the temperature. But he strokes his skin, brushes his hair back with exceeding gentleness, and a hand that was trembling so faintly. Breathes in a soft, sharp breath at Mettaton taking in the fullness of the head of his cock, at lips encircling the ridge, the explorations of his tongue along the underside. The more deliberate, repeated prodding over the slit has his breath hitch with a sharp sound, struck hard by the imagery of filling his mouth with his come, and dearly anticipating that moment. And the tightness concentrated around the tip leaves the Ascian repeatedly tensing, pulse pounding in time with the ache in his cock, an ache that only pulsed harder the more Mettaton sucked at him.
It's a noise of both pained regret and relief when Mettaton briefly pulls back from that suction, though Emet-Selch continues to pant and throb from the memory of it. It was an intensity that hurt in the most fantastic sort of way, with each time Mettaton returned to him serving to heighten it. And the persistent licking leaves him no chances to breathe easier, no opportunity to relax, especially when he could watch the way his lover's tongue flicked across the surface of his cock, heat against heat, leaving his erection practically dripping with his saliva. And framing him were his thighs, bruised and slightly bloody, a testament to Mettaton's ardor.
Leaning over him slightly, his head is tilted forward, the movement stretching the bites on his neck and shoulders, straining some of them anew. Only a little blood escapes the torn clots, but the whole area ached from the movement, a distant, still-pleasing echo of the arousal that flooded the rest of him. And as he couldn't exactly see his own throat and not much of his shoulders, it also served as a warm reminder of their condition: another thing he couldn't ever imagine forgetting.
Mettaton's words somehow leave him even warmer than before, ever more affected. That this was special and unique and personal for the both of them- a giving of themselves that others weren't privy to. It's a feeling that carries with him even as he watches his Bonded begin to take in more of his cock, feels the head move deeper into his mouth, and part of the shaft being treated to the greater heat of it. The slickness and the softness of him, the accompanying sounds and clear pleasure on Mettaton's part to be doing this- it leaves him moaning from the magnitude of it all. Low, regular noises and whispers that weren't quite words, and were often cut off by a sharper cry, a tight shudder, whenever he felt a particularly strong beat of arousal. Flushed from need, his eyes are half-open but still watching, transfixed and lost and adoring.]