[It was fortunate then, to be so possessed; in looking after Emet-Selch, Mettaton was just looking after himself. Someone who was both a part of himself, as well as an independent entity that was his, someone to mark with his teeth and his come, someone to choke unawares, and someone to then nurture back into consciousness.
Unaware of his boneless slump into Mettaton's arms, the Ascian's body is slack but- with his airway now clear- breathing once more. Something that he's more than competent at handling when he's not deliberately overriding himself, choosing to fill himself with an engorged cock instead. And there's less coughing this time, when Mettaton slides himself free of his throat, permitting the lesser entity of air to replace him. While a moment's unconsciousness could lead to a break in control, concentration, and a great deal of choking- Emet-Selch had already been choking on him. This time, the slightly longer period of unconsciousness leads to some manner of relaxing, his throat only reflexively clearing itself a bit as Mettaton carries him unawares to the bed, limp, but occasionally twitching.
Oxygen suffuses his blood, and with it, consciousness, a focusing that triggers a few more coughs, though ones of no particular violence. And Emet-Selch shudders faintly as his eyes open, focusing up on the blurry image of his lover's face above him, puzzled at how either of them got there. The expected sight- insomuch as the Ascian could expect much of anything- would've been of his crotch, his cock, but this was good too. He'd burrow and nuzzle at every part of him he could reach.]
Mettaton....?
[It's not a question of identity, and more a mild case of generalized confusion over what had happened, even as he pieces it back together himself. But he'd just been on his knees, sucking him, swallowing him, held in place and pounded into- and now there was his lover's face against his own, rubbing his cheek and licking at his lips and face, cleaning and messing him anew. Both of these statuses were good, but there was a point of connection he was missing.
But it didn't matter, and he swallows thickly, noting the tenderness in his throat with a shiver, an echo of Mettaton's length remaining there. And he tilts his face against his, kissing upon whatever part of him he can reach, nuzzling at the blood left on his Bonded's own face, still collecting himself.]
I'm-- fine. [Even his voice has a slight rasp to it, a trait that has his newly collected breath pausing once more. He could hardly tell if he was still coming down from arousal (he had climaxed, he was pretty sure of that, he notes with some satisfaction), or was yet maintaining it. The last thing he recalled was still being in the throes of having sex with Mettaton- a condition that had surely barely paused. If his own blood weren't still humming with arousal, the currents of hunger he could feel from Mettaton would've been enough to fuel his interest, keep his rousing senses alight with it.]
You feel... [More statements interrupted with the press of lips, kisses damp with breath and blood. He shifts a hand up to reach for Mettaton's face, only noticing then that his hand was free to do so.] incredible, you know.
[Both in general and also in his throat, his mouth, against his lips. But it was a thought to invoke memory, to invoke heat, to invoke want- feeling no trace of alarm at all for having briefly blacked out from a lack of air. If anything, only a sort of rush from it remained.]
no subject
Unaware of his boneless slump into Mettaton's arms, the Ascian's body is slack but- with his airway now clear- breathing once more. Something that he's more than competent at handling when he's not deliberately overriding himself, choosing to fill himself with an engorged cock instead. And there's less coughing this time, when Mettaton slides himself free of his throat, permitting the lesser entity of air to replace him. While a moment's unconsciousness could lead to a break in control, concentration, and a great deal of choking- Emet-Selch had already been choking on him. This time, the slightly longer period of unconsciousness leads to some manner of relaxing, his throat only reflexively clearing itself a bit as Mettaton carries him unawares to the bed, limp, but occasionally twitching.
Oxygen suffuses his blood, and with it, consciousness, a focusing that triggers a few more coughs, though ones of no particular violence. And Emet-Selch shudders faintly as his eyes open, focusing up on the blurry image of his lover's face above him, puzzled at how either of them got there. The expected sight- insomuch as the Ascian could expect much of anything- would've been of his crotch, his cock, but this was good too. He'd burrow and nuzzle at every part of him he could reach.]
Mettaton....?
[It's not a question of identity, and more a mild case of generalized confusion over what had happened, even as he pieces it back together himself. But he'd just been on his knees, sucking him, swallowing him, held in place and pounded into- and now there was his lover's face against his own, rubbing his cheek and licking at his lips and face, cleaning and messing him anew. Both of these statuses were good, but there was a point of connection he was missing.
But it didn't matter, and he swallows thickly, noting the tenderness in his throat with a shiver, an echo of Mettaton's length remaining there. And he tilts his face against his, kissing upon whatever part of him he can reach, nuzzling at the blood left on his Bonded's own face, still collecting himself.]
I'm-- fine. [Even his voice has a slight rasp to it, a trait that has his newly collected breath pausing once more. He could hardly tell if he was still coming down from arousal (he had climaxed, he was pretty sure of that, he notes with some satisfaction), or was yet maintaining it. The last thing he recalled was still being in the throes of having sex with Mettaton- a condition that had surely barely paused. If his own blood weren't still humming with arousal, the currents of hunger he could feel from Mettaton would've been enough to fuel his interest, keep his rousing senses alight with it.]
You feel... [More statements interrupted with the press of lips, kisses damp with breath and blood. He shifts a hand up to reach for Mettaton's face, only noticing then that his hand was free to do so.] incredible, you know.
[Both in general and also in his throat, his mouth, against his lips. But it was a thought to invoke memory, to invoke heat, to invoke want- feeling no trace of alarm at all for having briefly blacked out from a lack of air. If anything, only a sort of rush from it remained.]