[It was a mesmerizing sight. Mettaton's quick, desperate movements, his hard, tight thrusts into his tensing form. The way his expression looked in the mirror, whenever Emet-Selch could wrest his gaze away from the joining of their bodies. There was something to be said for this position, he thought, though the sight of their reflections was an important part of it. And with Mettaton nuzzling at his back and neck, hearing his voice coming from an unfamiliar angle- the Ascian considered that he'd want the idol to take him from behind on some other occasion as well... in front of a mirror. Emet-Selch had never thought of himself as particularly vain, but he was quickly coming around to the appreciation of having one's reflection so available in certain circumstance.
And the sight of them together... the jerks of Mettaton's hips against his receptive body, the repeated glimpses he could get of his cock as he moved, the clutch of fingers into his skin- it left his heart aching more than any other part of him. As if it were more than his body being claimed- though Mettaton's words reassured him of that, and he shuddered. For all that he knew that they possessed one another, to be made to feel it with each thrust and sound was of the deepest kind of comfort to the Ascian. To see the pattern of that possession manifested upon his skin, and then, to be left inside his body as well--
Even without his own release, Emet-Selch was left breathless, trembling, satisfied. Forgetting the necessity of air, he takes in the last sharp jerks from Mettaton's hips as though sharing in his desperation. And he clenches around him hard as Mettaton's thick come spills into him, a hotter presence than even that of his cock, a touch that reaches even more deeply. And to feel so perfectly possessed by it, taken on all levels by this man... he was struck by the need to nuzzle and hold him, but as he couldn't (and he was loathe to lose the fullness of his cock so soon anyway), he settles for nudging back against Mettaton's body as he rests against him. Encouraging him to lean against him as much as he could, enjoying the sensation of his breath on his shoulder, how... spent he looked and felt.
The love he could sense so clearly, as though his actions hadn't already made it abundantly known. Words truly weren't necessary at all, but he felt endeared towards Mettaton's attempts towards speech in his current state. Despite his own high pulse and unsteady breath, Emet-Selch felt... if not quite relaxed, but something similar, warm and safe and at ease. As if he could finally start to come down from his own climax, now that Mettaton had claimed his.
It was- comfortable, to be in his lap like this, despite the spread of his legs and the cock inside him. His head tilts back, to try and rub slowly against Mettaton's. His voice is a low rumble, steady, if heavy with emotion.]
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And the sight of them together... the jerks of Mettaton's hips against his receptive body, the repeated glimpses he could get of his cock as he moved, the clutch of fingers into his skin- it left his heart aching more than any other part of him. As if it were more than his body being claimed- though Mettaton's words reassured him of that, and he shuddered. For all that he knew that they possessed one another, to be made to feel it with each thrust and sound was of the deepest kind of comfort to the Ascian. To see the pattern of that possession manifested upon his skin, and then, to be left inside his body as well--
Even without his own release, Emet-Selch was left breathless, trembling, satisfied. Forgetting the necessity of air, he takes in the last sharp jerks from Mettaton's hips as though sharing in his desperation. And he clenches around him hard as Mettaton's thick come spills into him, a hotter presence than even that of his cock, a touch that reaches even more deeply. And to feel so perfectly possessed by it, taken on all levels by this man... he was struck by the need to nuzzle and hold him, but as he couldn't (and he was loathe to lose the fullness of his cock so soon anyway), he settles for nudging back against Mettaton's body as he rests against him. Encouraging him to lean against him as much as he could, enjoying the sensation of his breath on his shoulder, how... spent he looked and felt.
The love he could sense so clearly, as though his actions hadn't already made it abundantly known. Words truly weren't necessary at all, but he felt endeared towards Mettaton's attempts towards speech in his current state. Despite his own high pulse and unsteady breath, Emet-Selch felt... if not quite relaxed, but something similar, warm and safe and at ease. As if he could finally start to come down from his own climax, now that Mettaton had claimed his.
It was- comfortable, to be in his lap like this, despite the spread of his legs and the cock inside him. His head tilts back, to try and rub slowly against Mettaton's. His voice is a low rumble, steady, if heavy with emotion.]
...I love you.