[Even hearing Emet-Selch speak has Mettaton responding with a firmer, quicker stroke. The reason's so simple and primal, but so deeply ingrained at him at this point, the desire to claim his Bonded, to make him his entirely. Upon hearing his tone, he wants it: his voice, his body, his skin, his love, his soul, his everything, and that bodily reaction of him is for the desire to mark him some more. Another deeper moan slips from his throat, eyes half-lidded and only sometimes seeing.
His arousal continues to pump in and out, though Mettaton's hooked on the feeling of the ridge of his cock pulling along his lover, so intimately. That would be enough to send him over the edge, he thinks. But then, so much of this could do that for him. Such pleasure is so new to Mettaton. He cherishes that Emet-Selch could be so willing to indulge him, so desirous of his body in return — and who wouldn't be? When he gazes at the mirror with a glassy stare, he's taken by how attractive they are together.
By how Emet-Selch fits him like glove. A... tight glove. He stares at how his cock pulls back and sinks in, such intimacy causing him to swallow, and he rubs his cheek against what's his. Yet another low noise, a groan: Emet-Selch was his. He body curls in on him somewhat, and his thrusts change from firm and deep to firmer and deep, possessiveness emanating from him.
That's the sentiment that ends up becoming his fixation in his last few moments before release.]
Mine, mine——
[He couldn't string together a coherent sentence to save his life, but his body also cannot contain the sheer magnitude of feeling he has for his lover. This streak of claim is part of him so readily sharpened, melds well with Mettaton's inclination toward marking and keeping what's his. He nuzzles his shoulder. He moans openly against him. He'll always have him.
A promise to hold him dear to his heart is still Mettaton's willing shackles, the promise to remember. How could he forget Emet-Selch if he gives himself to him so completely, and takes him for everything he has?
The idol doesn't hear himself uttering Emet-Selch's name some more, peppered with more of the word "mine" as the robot loses himself. He throws his head back in another moan, this one thick and hot as his come: climax hits him hard. His fingers grip into the Ascian's legs, his body positions itself as if he'd push him down to the floor and fuck him senseless with such dedication, spring-loaded and firmer in his thrusts. But he's smitten so severely. He's so desperately in love that he has to close his eyes to cope.
Even as he clutches his Bonded's legs and leans into him, he soundlessly mouths his love for him during the last moment of his release. A satisfied whine, and the continued, automatic thrusting into his beloved, Mettaton fills Emet-Selch fuller yet of his cock: if the flesh itself wasn't enough, he leaves behind his hot release.
As he completes his marking of him, Mettaton begins to slow where his breathing remains ragged and pulse remains high. His arms begin to slacken, begin to imitate Emet-Selch's, and he rests his cheek on his lover's upper back, against his shoulder while he pants. He wants to tell Emet-Selch how he feels about him, even when his mind is lost.
How much he loves him. It doesn't need words to his Bonded if it's so strongly felt by him, but he stutters syllables, pants for air, and fails to speak.]
no subject
His arousal continues to pump in and out, though Mettaton's hooked on the feeling of the ridge of his cock pulling along his lover, so intimately. That would be enough to send him over the edge, he thinks. But then, so much of this could do that for him. Such pleasure is so new to Mettaton. He cherishes that Emet-Selch could be so willing to indulge him, so desirous of his body in return — and who wouldn't be? When he gazes at the mirror with a glassy stare, he's taken by how attractive they are together.
By how Emet-Selch fits him like glove. A... tight glove. He stares at how his cock pulls back and sinks in, such intimacy causing him to swallow, and he rubs his cheek against what's his. Yet another low noise, a groan: Emet-Selch was his. He body curls in on him somewhat, and his thrusts change from firm and deep to firmer and deep, possessiveness emanating from him.
That's the sentiment that ends up becoming his fixation in his last few moments before release.]
Mine, mine——
[He couldn't string together a coherent sentence to save his life, but his body also cannot contain the sheer magnitude of feeling he has for his lover. This streak of claim is part of him so readily sharpened, melds well with Mettaton's inclination toward marking and keeping what's his. He nuzzles his shoulder. He moans openly against him. He'll always have him.
A promise to hold him dear to his heart is still Mettaton's willing shackles, the promise to remember. How could he forget Emet-Selch if he gives himself to him so completely, and takes him for everything he has?
The idol doesn't hear himself uttering Emet-Selch's name some more, peppered with more of the word "mine" as the robot loses himself. He throws his head back in another moan, this one thick and hot as his come: climax hits him hard. His fingers grip into the Ascian's legs, his body positions itself as if he'd push him down to the floor and fuck him senseless with such dedication, spring-loaded and firmer in his thrusts. But he's smitten so severely. He's so desperately in love that he has to close his eyes to cope.
Even as he clutches his Bonded's legs and leans into him, he soundlessly mouths his love for him during the last moment of his release. A satisfied whine, and the continued, automatic thrusting into his beloved, Mettaton fills Emet-Selch fuller yet of his cock: if the flesh itself wasn't enough, he leaves behind his hot release.
As he completes his marking of him, Mettaton begins to slow where his breathing remains ragged and pulse remains high. His arms begin to slacken, begin to imitate Emet-Selch's, and he rests his cheek on his lover's upper back, against his shoulder while he pants. He wants to tell Emet-Selch how he feels about him, even when his mind is lost.
How much he loves him. It doesn't need words to his Bonded if it's so strongly felt by him, but he stutters syllables, pants for air, and fails to speak.]