glitzandglamour: (💣189)
Mettaton EX ([personal profile] glitzandglamour) wrote in [personal profile] unsundered 2020-08-25 07:19 pm (UTC)

[Hearing Emet-Selch moaning preemptively as though seizing the chance for it has Mettaton pushing his length against his face some more, bending down to kiss his lover's abdomen. His ears fold back in a demonstration of comfort, shoving his crotch against Emet-Selch's face and nestling him firmly between his thighs to show the Ascian what his fate could be, should he appropriately take the full length of him. Cock flush to his lover's face, Mettaton kisses and licks at his body, a low, possessive noise slipping from his throat as he soaks in the sight of Emet-Selch bared and accessible to him, fingers prodding thighs and hips and wrapping over his cock. He gives him a few slow, firm strokes, kneading the head of him with fondness as he tenses his thighs, pushes Emet-Selch more snugly between them, marking what's his in this more intimate of positions. He imagines their positions swapped, Emet-Selch grinding the length of himself into Mettaton's face while he kisses his body, and it only serves to flatter him some more to have Emet-Selch so hard, so exposed for him, bruised and each kiss an indicator of his desire.

But with how reverent Emet-Selch is in such a position, wanting and thrilling in having his breath taken by swallowing down his cock, Mettaton finds he favors this position greatly. How could he not? His Bonded enjoys this so much. Mettaton keeps teasing himself with the thought of him attempting to moan and cry out around his cock lodged in his throat, around the drooling and the rapture and brilliance that shone through their Bond. His lover loves this, and where Emet-Selch wants to see Mettaton to his satisfaction, Mettaton wants the same. It's just perfect that their needs align in this way.

The robot leans back up, a hand flitting down to steady himself at the base of his erection. He smiles down at Emet-Selch from his spot above him, noticing how engorged his own length is, how thick it looks in comparison to his throat.... And how exposed his Bonded is, how prone and primed he is to fuck. In every which way, thinks the Puca; Emet-Selch's readiness doesn't stop at his throat, and his monstrous appetite begins lining up the ways he wants to take him like a queue: he wants to gently wrap him in his legs and smother him against his crotch, make him deliriously take his cock that way after his next release; he wants to seat him atop his length and rock his hips, whether Emet-Selch's doing the driving or Mettaton's manually shoving his body against him; he wants to push him face-down against the bed and raise his hips, splay his lovers cock down so that he can kiss and suck at it, so that he can appreciate his bruised thighs, suck kisses into him some more, before mounting him and fucking him hard enough to have him crying out. He wants to drain him, and then push him beyond that limit. Mettaton can't get enough, and he wants to fill Emet-Selch with himself to the point that he can't think of anything but him.

Breathing hard (even though he needs no breath), the glans is pressed to Emet-Selch's lips expectantly as he mouths him, evoking a shuddering sigh for Mettaton. He can tell how badly Emet-Selch wants him, the knowledge of it coursing through him heady and tense enough to set him trembling, thrusts short and for the sake of quelling some of that tension.]


My, Hades. So wanting... You deserve every bit of me, a reward for your desire.

[He feels the desire to stroke his hair, but that will come later. A cross between a tender love and one that burns hot in his core, the need to please and use him and see their collective attraction reflected back at them in their sex. Mettaton rolls his hips some more, coaxing Emet-Selch's lips to form around the glans. Coaxing him yet to take his length into his mouth, as though he needed much coaxing.

Words die on his tongue when he tries to verbalize something, pressing a bit more of his length into Emet-Selch's mouth with restrained thrusts as he thinks about how visible and palpable it'll feel to occupy Emet-Selch's throat from his vantage point — how he longs to tell his lover all about what he sees. But he wants more than that, and Mettaton finds himself reaching for one of Emet-Selch's hands. He leaves the other behind, imagining how tense he'll inevitably be and needing to grip into something. The hand he's captured, however, is slid gently against Emet-Selch's neck to accompany his own fingers. Voice soft, he gives the Ascian instructions: something of a demand, framed in a suggestion.]


I want you to feel me when I fill your throat, darling. You really should... Right here, you'll feel your throat swell with that fullness. I think you'll like it. [As though to demonstrate, Mettaton takes Emet-Selch's forefinger and runs the pad of it firmly down the length of Emet-Selch's throat, from the top and down toward the middle. Mettaton knows what it feels like to have his length nestled deep inside, and he knows his Bonded will enjoy it, if he can even think to feel it while so occupied. He sighs.] It's only fair that you get to relish more of me, in as many ways as possible. I get the sight of your entire body set before me, after all... And what a sight you are.

[And he's not sure if this is to tempt and tease, or if it's to fulfill, a reward. When he sees Emet-Selch's cock so hard, thick and arched so perfectly, he wants nothing more than to fill his own throat with it — but he equally wants to mark him up totally, and taking his throat is a part of that desire. Emet-Selch can be teased and taunted and rewarded by the dimension of ways he can feel himself be filled, weighted down with the girth of his arousal occupying him.

The Puca's thrusts firm up somewhat, his manner more fevered as he pants somewhat.]
How much do you want to suck me off? What excites you...? Tell me, beautiful.

[...He is beautiful. Mettaton's struck all over again not just by the loveliness of his toned, slender body, but by his sheer vulnerability, strewn out along the bed and with his lips wrapped around a thick cock, anticipating its filling of his throat. Though the idol expects a reply, he doesn't withdraw his length, expecting Emet-Selch to speak around the head of him, expecting him not only to tell, but to show how much he craves Mettaton.]

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