[Emet-Selch is too much of a pleasure for his own good, Mettaton thinks, ravenous and driven by his own arousal to take from Emet-Selch his climax, as though he could reach higher peaks of complete satisfaction by sucking his lover off before he could even have a chance. And the closer he gets, the louder, more frantic the Ascian becomes. Mettaton's nearly transfixed himself, if not for the commitment he has to Emet-Selch's cock and the craving he has for it. Each time it pops into his throat is another rush, another risk, another moment where he can't breathe and he notices his inability to sound, each retreat a chance to moan. He's nearly breathless all the time.
It's as Mettaton pulls back upon the head and runs his tongue along the underside of it that he detects how close his lover is to release. To coax him along, the Puca's tongue laps at the very tip of his cock in anticipation, lips caught along the ridge as he hums affectionately. His clawing, his thrashing, his spasming and gripping into hair surely touched with the sweat from their efforts. He sucks, giving just enough of a relief so that he's not bearing down on the head too hard but providing suction nonetheless — and he's rewarded then with come.
Mettaton moans into the feeling of heat, almost sinking into him with the taste and knowledge of what's transpired. One swallow of thick fluid, then he leaves the rest to collect in his mouth, allowing it to linger on his tongue as he pulls from his Bondmate's cock, no doubt rendered sensitive after enduring so much. He swallows and nearly coughs on it, but manages to separate swallowing from the gasp of air he so sorely needs to take.
Emet-Selch's fingers thread through his hair and he curls into him. Mettaton hums fondly: his lover spent, lost and dazed, huddling in on his head like he has nothing in the world but himself... So when Mettaton rises, he nuzzles all the way up his beloved's chest, taking care to pepper him in kisses until he reaches his face, his panting gasps. There, too, he kisses and kisses, amorous and touched by his lover's love and desire made so blatant for him.
Still panting, still breathless, Mettaton lets out a sharp sigh.]
H-Hades...
[A kiss to his face. How he adores him; how he loves seeing him so expended, so wrecked, so drained and unable to think. His arms rise, and he collects his lover into his embrace. He already has a trajectory in mind for fucking him..... He's breathless, but panting, wanting, needing, even as he pulls Emet-Selch into his arms and tugs him onto his lap.]
There.
[Wrapped so snugly in each other's arms, Mettaton drags Emet-Selch onto his lap. His own cock remains achingly hard, throbbing with each beat of his pulse, even while his love for the Ascian is so undeniably tender, fond and adoring.]
H... How much of a pleasure you are, gorgeous... [More kisses yet. More affection to drown in.]
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It's as Mettaton pulls back upon the head and runs his tongue along the underside of it that he detects how close his lover is to release. To coax him along, the Puca's tongue laps at the very tip of his cock in anticipation, lips caught along the ridge as he hums affectionately. His clawing, his thrashing, his spasming and gripping into hair surely touched with the sweat from their efforts. He sucks, giving just enough of a relief so that he's not bearing down on the head too hard but providing suction nonetheless — and he's rewarded then with come.
Mettaton moans into the feeling of heat, almost sinking into him with the taste and knowledge of what's transpired. One swallow of thick fluid, then he leaves the rest to collect in his mouth, allowing it to linger on his tongue as he pulls from his Bondmate's cock, no doubt rendered sensitive after enduring so much. He swallows and nearly coughs on it, but manages to separate swallowing from the gasp of air he so sorely needs to take.
Emet-Selch's fingers thread through his hair and he curls into him. Mettaton hums fondly: his lover spent, lost and dazed, huddling in on his head like he has nothing in the world but himself... So when Mettaton rises, he nuzzles all the way up his beloved's chest, taking care to pepper him in kisses until he reaches his face, his panting gasps. There, too, he kisses and kisses, amorous and touched by his lover's love and desire made so blatant for him.
Still panting, still breathless, Mettaton lets out a sharp sigh.]
H-Hades...
[A kiss to his face. How he adores him; how he loves seeing him so expended, so wrecked, so drained and unable to think. His arms rise, and he collects his lover into his embrace. He already has a trajectory in mind for fucking him..... He's breathless, but panting, wanting, needing, even as he pulls Emet-Selch into his arms and tugs him onto his lap.]
There.
[Wrapped so snugly in each other's arms, Mettaton drags Emet-Selch onto his lap. His own cock remains achingly hard, throbbing with each beat of his pulse, even while his love for the Ascian is so undeniably tender, fond and adoring.]
H... How much of a pleasure you are, gorgeous... [More kisses yet. More affection to drown in.]