[Obediently, Emet-Selch's hand remains at his neck and performs precisely as Mettaton hoped. For every moan lost to the lack of breath, he can feel his adoration instead through Bond, if not around his length by the loss of that sound converted into vibration. His pleasure is immense, and Mettaton realizes that Emet-Selch truly loves this manner of loss, of deprivation — a loss of control, of distraction; a single-minded focus toward only his breath and Mettaton's cock the longer the robot filled him. Yes, the idol's quotient for feeling perfectly recognized for his desirability would not go unfulfilled in Emet-Selch's presence, as he'd anticipated. This is someone who understands how brilliant, attractive, and worthy Mettaton is, someone so attracted to his body that he'd be welcoming and desperate to part his lips and swallow his cock, to render himself into something to fuck and please, as long as it's Mettaton. And Emet-Selch so obviously gets off on that use: his body's tense, his cock standing hard and upright and drool-worthy, Mettaton thought.
During these first thrusts into his lover's throat, Mettaton stares at Emet-Selch's length with bright attentiveness and a hunger to his manner. How rigid, painfully aroused, surely aching and long untouched save for a bit of grinding, and how beautiful his body is, come- and kiss-marked both. How lucky he is to have had such direct contact with Mettaton's erection, and his fingers wrap firmly around the base of him. There's a heated hum that slips from his throat as he decides to give the Ascian a firm squeeze and, half-leaning as he is, he easily unhands Emet-Selch's cock to favor instead his balls, which he cups, prods, gives a gentle squeeze. He fantasizes so vividly about the sight of Emet-Selch's release that he swallows reflexively, moaning purely at the image in his mind... as if the action around his arousal weren't enough to pull from him the same response, compounded.
With a heartfelt sigh and probing fingers, Mettaton stands upright again so that he can watch his lover swallowing his cock — and how distracting the sight of his neck, Emet-Selch's fingers dancing around the prominence in his throat that is surely the tip of his cock. These additional squeezes pull from Mettaton a gasp, his free hand flying down to accompany Emet-Selch's fingers in their prodding and stroking. He can feel the way Emet-Selch struggles for breath even when he enjoys its absence, the bodily need to reject his length when Emet-Selch obviously craves him instead. Emet-Selch would override his own body's needs just to have Mettaton as deeply and thoroughly as possible.
His pleasure in it is blatant, speech and sound be damned. Mettaton could kiss him, if Emet-Selch weren't already busy favoring his cock, kissing and sucking down his shaft.]
Hades, you're so hard... I can see why. You love this. So why don't I give you more to swallow...?
[Mettaton's so attracted to Emet-Selch that their fascination for one another simply feel matched, a sort of carnal craving for the other that they could probably communicate with a glance across a crowded room. Failing to give him a chance for even a gulp of air, the Puca presses into Emet-Selch's mouth some more, sure and smooth as he slips the whole of his length down his throat, watching the entire time as his throat gives way under Emet-Selch's fingertips. Not only does it titillate him to gaze upon, but the sensations he feels beyond the heat of Emet-Selch's slick, sticky throat have Mettaton stuttering and stammering around words he wasn't even sure he was going to say. They all slip out as short cries, moans, suddenly feeling the whole of his lover's body warm and tight around him.
He's so deep that his crotch is flush to Emet-Selch's face, his lover's lips forced around the root of his cock. He can feel his even his balls against his lover's face as he shifts his hips some more, jostling his length within the confines of Emet-Selch's throat. He's so prone, so accessible like this, his throat stretched and straightened and easy to slip into, slick and warm. Teeth wouldn't keep Mettaton from him, who only cries out at their presence. Emet-Selch's not the only glutton for this particular position, he realizes — how breathless he can make him, how much he can dominate Emet-Selch's senses... This position is perfect for Mettaton, too.
A firm stroke along his Bonded's neck serves to coax him to swallow again. His voice is an ecstatic cant, rapidly losing his mind to pleasure so thick and all-encompassing that he can scarcely see beyond it and his love.]
I... Swallow, Hades, swallow ar- Ahh-
[Speaking is difficult when he may as well be so electrified that he could short-circuit. As for Emet-Selch... who needs air when he has the whole of his erection stuffed down his throat, filling enough for it to be visible even from his bruised neck, skin stretched and agitated enough to leave him still bleeding? Even Mettaton can tell how unforgiving his cock is, no room for breath even if he weren't salivating so profoundly — which he can see that he is, drooling with his dedication, teeth running along his erection at random enough to keep Mettaton on his toes. Emet-Selch is only allowed to crave one thing between Mettaton and air, and he would see to it that he wins out in this battle: thought and oxygen were not as important of a need to fulfill as he is. Mettaton begins to thrust gently, slight pulls and pushes of his cock so that he never once fully escapes the confines of his lover's throat.
To reward Emet-Selch for his choice to suck on a thick cock in over continued air, Mettaton's fingers slip up his length and stroke, thumbing the slit and imagining once more his lover's body erupting in climax. His abdomen would tense and spasm, his erection dripping... Mettaton would release his load in his throat again, too, and find himself still hard, still ready to fuck him again, and he would. Emet-Selch said he didn't want for him to stop, and Mettaton would take his throat until his voice was reduced, until his lover lost his mind.]
no subject
During these first thrusts into his lover's throat, Mettaton stares at Emet-Selch's length with bright attentiveness and a hunger to his manner. How rigid, painfully aroused, surely aching and long untouched save for a bit of grinding, and how beautiful his body is, come- and kiss-marked both. How lucky he is to have had such direct contact with Mettaton's erection, and his fingers wrap firmly around the base of him. There's a heated hum that slips from his throat as he decides to give the Ascian a firm squeeze and, half-leaning as he is, he easily unhands Emet-Selch's cock to favor instead his balls, which he cups, prods, gives a gentle squeeze. He fantasizes so vividly about the sight of Emet-Selch's release that he swallows reflexively, moaning purely at the image in his mind... as if the action around his arousal weren't enough to pull from him the same response, compounded.
With a heartfelt sigh and probing fingers, Mettaton stands upright again so that he can watch his lover swallowing his cock — and how distracting the sight of his neck, Emet-Selch's fingers dancing around the prominence in his throat that is surely the tip of his cock. These additional squeezes pull from Mettaton a gasp, his free hand flying down to accompany Emet-Selch's fingers in their prodding and stroking. He can feel the way Emet-Selch struggles for breath even when he enjoys its absence, the bodily need to reject his length when Emet-Selch obviously craves him instead. Emet-Selch would override his own body's needs just to have Mettaton as deeply and thoroughly as possible.
His pleasure in it is blatant, speech and sound be damned. Mettaton could kiss him, if Emet-Selch weren't already busy favoring his cock, kissing and sucking down his shaft.]
Hades, you're so hard... I can see why. You love this. So why don't I give you more to swallow...?
[Mettaton's so attracted to Emet-Selch that their fascination for one another simply feel matched, a sort of carnal craving for the other that they could probably communicate with a glance across a crowded room. Failing to give him a chance for even a gulp of air, the Puca presses into Emet-Selch's mouth some more, sure and smooth as he slips the whole of his length down his throat, watching the entire time as his throat gives way under Emet-Selch's fingertips. Not only does it titillate him to gaze upon, but the sensations he feels beyond the heat of Emet-Selch's slick, sticky throat have Mettaton stuttering and stammering around words he wasn't even sure he was going to say. They all slip out as short cries, moans, suddenly feeling the whole of his lover's body warm and tight around him.
He's so deep that his crotch is flush to Emet-Selch's face, his lover's lips forced around the root of his cock. He can feel his even his balls against his lover's face as he shifts his hips some more, jostling his length within the confines of Emet-Selch's throat. He's so prone, so accessible like this, his throat stretched and straightened and easy to slip into, slick and warm. Teeth wouldn't keep Mettaton from him, who only cries out at their presence. Emet-Selch's not the only glutton for this particular position, he realizes — how breathless he can make him, how much he can dominate Emet-Selch's senses... This position is perfect for Mettaton, too.
A firm stroke along his Bonded's neck serves to coax him to swallow again. His voice is an ecstatic cant, rapidly losing his mind to pleasure so thick and all-encompassing that he can scarcely see beyond it and his love.]
I... Swallow, Hades, swallow ar- Ahh-
[Speaking is difficult when he may as well be so electrified that he could short-circuit. As for Emet-Selch... who needs air when he has the whole of his erection stuffed down his throat, filling enough for it to be visible even from his bruised neck, skin stretched and agitated enough to leave him still bleeding? Even Mettaton can tell how unforgiving his cock is, no room for breath even if he weren't salivating so profoundly — which he can see that he is, drooling with his dedication, teeth running along his erection at random enough to keep Mettaton on his toes. Emet-Selch is only allowed to crave one thing between Mettaton and air, and he would see to it that he wins out in this battle: thought and oxygen were not as important of a need to fulfill as he is. Mettaton begins to thrust gently, slight pulls and pushes of his cock so that he never once fully escapes the confines of his lover's throat.
To reward Emet-Selch for his choice to suck on a thick cock in over continued air, Mettaton's fingers slip up his length and stroke, thumbing the slit and imagining once more his lover's body erupting in climax. His abdomen would tense and spasm, his erection dripping... Mettaton would release his load in his throat again, too, and find himself still hard, still ready to fuck him again, and he would. Emet-Selch said he didn't want for him to stop, and Mettaton would take his throat until his voice was reduced, until his lover lost his mind.]