[Even in the midst of his climax, he can recognize the specific efforts on Mettaton's part to enhance this particular moment, the teasing way his tongue had licked and stroked and rubbed him through it, lips snug around the head. Just the right amount of suction to overwhelm him, without burning him to the point where he couldn't feel anything at all. But every detail remained, to suffocate him in their combination. An awareness that has affection rolling in, a surge of it that threatened to drown him in its own right, the Ascian only managing to endure it by attaching and clinging to Mettaton as he pulls free from his cock. A sight that his hazy eyes somehow manage to focus on, a vision of it completely wet and even more tender than the rest of his body. Only then does Emet-Selch let go of Mettaton's hair, in order to better wrap his arms around him, chest still heaving from his rapid breathing, not yet able to collect himself. Only to feel and to listen: to his own breath and thudding pulse, to the quickness of Mettaton's own breathing, his sighs and his words.
Though his limbs are heavy and awkward, things that he doesn't feel wholly attached to, Emet-Selch tries to facilitate however Mettaton moves him. Especially since that movement is closer, into his lap, and his arms. And with it, the unmistakable sensation of his lover's hardness prodding into him. A feeling that has him shudder anew, keeps his pulse high and his love for him higher. It wasn't as though he'd forgotten his Bonded's own need, for all that he hadn't been able to do anything for it while being sucked off. And it didn't surprise the Ascian at all to realize how desperate he yet was for his lover's cock, despite his own being so recently sated. It wasn't arousal, exactly, at least not in the same way as before, but a need to feel Mettaton's own satisfaction, to take him however he could.]
M... Mettaton....
[His name is about all he can manage just yet, clinging to the sound of it just as he clings to his body. A recognition, an acceptance, a claim.
He's still too uncoordinated to do more than nudge against the tip of his length with his body, however, with a small, pleased-sounding noise at it, at the feeling of Mettaton's affection burying him through kisses. From chest to neck to face, Emet-Selch can do little more than press into it at first, panting with him. And when his face is finally against his own, to nuzzle as fiercely as he could manage against it, and then to press lips over whatever part of him he could reach.
There's a hint of blood left from each kiss, a trail to show where he's been, as he finally manages to meet Mettaton's lips through sheer persistence. From there his breath catches with a faint shudder, gently rubbing bitten lips to swollen ones, tongue flicking out to trail over Mettaton's lower one. And from there, to nudge his way past it into his mouth, fully conscious of how his cock had so recently occupied that space, seeking out the taste of his own come on him. It's a thing that has him moaning softly into the kiss, and which would've aroused him in itself, if he hadn't just climaxed.]
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Though his limbs are heavy and awkward, things that he doesn't feel wholly attached to, Emet-Selch tries to facilitate however Mettaton moves him. Especially since that movement is closer, into his lap, and his arms. And with it, the unmistakable sensation of his lover's hardness prodding into him. A feeling that has him shudder anew, keeps his pulse high and his love for him higher. It wasn't as though he'd forgotten his Bonded's own need, for all that he hadn't been able to do anything for it while being sucked off. And it didn't surprise the Ascian at all to realize how desperate he yet was for his lover's cock, despite his own being so recently sated. It wasn't arousal, exactly, at least not in the same way as before, but a need to feel Mettaton's own satisfaction, to take him however he could.]
M... Mettaton....
[His name is about all he can manage just yet, clinging to the sound of it just as he clings to his body. A recognition, an acceptance, a claim.
He's still too uncoordinated to do more than nudge against the tip of his length with his body, however, with a small, pleased-sounding noise at it, at the feeling of Mettaton's affection burying him through kisses. From chest to neck to face, Emet-Selch can do little more than press into it at first, panting with him. And when his face is finally against his own, to nuzzle as fiercely as he could manage against it, and then to press lips over whatever part of him he could reach.
There's a hint of blood left from each kiss, a trail to show where he's been, as he finally manages to meet Mettaton's lips through sheer persistence. From there his breath catches with a faint shudder, gently rubbing bitten lips to swollen ones, tongue flicking out to trail over Mettaton's lower one. And from there, to nudge his way past it into his mouth, fully conscious of how his cock had so recently occupied that space, seeking out the taste of his own come on him. It's a thing that has him moaning softly into the kiss, and which would've aroused him in itself, if he hadn't just climaxed.]