[With Emet-Selch presented before him so enticingly flirting with his fingers while emanating a sort of gentle comfort in Mettaton's presence, he can only unwind in a profound ease, even as he's riled up. There's something better than his fingers for him to suck and attend to, and Emet-Selch's gaze trains itself upon his length with the same thought as they both decide together to test the integrity of the Ascian's voice. He hums something of a contented laugh, pleased with the plan set out before them both.
A moment spared to shifting around is Mettaton's chance to continue basking in the sight of his lover so prone before him, set between his legs like he's his prize dedicated to his pleasure. He focuses solely on how flattering this image is, something he'll return to almost in a third-person view to envision himself reclining, expecting his naked, bitten lover to please him and to inevitably arouse himself, and he wishes he had a mirror pointed their way to behold it. He imagines the view of Emet-Selch's body he could have, his lover not at all able to escape his gaze of him in every angle, and he shudders as Emet-Selch sighs into his crotch, settling his face there.
It's a distraction immediate. There's not much room to lament his lack of mirrors with the sight of his Bonded settled between his thighs, kissing and laving his balls and shaft with his tongue and kissing so sensually all over his length. Mettaton's hips don't still. He sucks in the air he doesn't need, a low, soft groan escaping from him. Emet-Selch's been made flushed with use, lip still bloodied and surely trailing blood about to be diluted in saliva. Mettaton's helpless as he witnesses his lover press his face to his cock, heavy as it leans against him; the sound of Emet-Selch's moan has his hips jerk, has him swallowing at the sound of it and the same train of thought: would Emet-Selch's use be made so evident that nobody would be unaware of it? How evident would it be, that he would swallow and suck his cock to please both himself and his Bonded Monster?
...It's not a disagreeable thought at all, as Mettaton's thrusts firm up in his imagination. He bites at his lower lip, imagining the thought of Emet-Selch made so obviously his and having that be on display for all. Just the thought has him lifting one of his thighs, instinctually wrapping it around Emet-Selch's shoulder in preparation to mark him up, cradled between his legs as he's soon to be. He wants everyone to know not only that he's his, but that he's dedicated to his pleasure, body and soul. He belongs to Mettaton, just like everything else in this room.
Wrapping him in his thighs as he slips over his cock is an image that can't be fulfilled soon enough. Mettaton anticipates it hungrily, licking his lips with a sultry stare.
But for now, there are lips sucking kisses into him, his lover nuzzling his erection, shoulders painted so attractively in bruises and blood... Mettaton's arrested at the sight of him and hiccups around the closing of his own throat. His hand gently slides along his lover's dark hair.]
Oh... You're beautiful, like this. Ah—
[Emet-Selch grazes him gently with teeth, and Mettaton's back arches back for a moment as he recoils, a growl slipping from his throat as he squeezes his eye shut. But he's quick to thrust his hips forward again, shoving his arousal fully against Emet-Selch's face with a force and an accompanying groan. Fingers petting him turn into knotting into his hair out of a need that grows exponentially, his length hard and thick and needing his lover's throat. Emet-Selch remains at the base of him, and Mettaton rubs the underside of his cock along the give of his lips with a craving made evident. He can only imagine them, soft and giving and wrapped around his girth.
He wants to lift him and shove his lips over the head of his length. But he also relishes watching Emet-Selch doing what he pleases to him, all of it pleasurable and contributing to this slow, coiling build of absolute heat in him that he can't get enough of. Ecstasy and sexual satisfaction are a vice he can't see himself living without anymore.
... It's not just that, though. It's this person he can't live without. This person is what satisfaction and dedication feels like, someone comfortable and trustworthy and his. He sighs at the sight of him, and Mettaton finds himself wrapping yet another thigh around his shoulder. Loosely, he holds him there, crossing his legs around him gently in eager wait. A perfect position to secure him over his cock, he thought, for when that moment comes. For now, Emet-Selch applies tongue and lips all around his balls and the root of his shaft while Mettaton's hips won't still, nearly begging to feel him attend to the sensitive, swollen head of him.]
Hades... [He doesn't need his own words to express his neediness, and though he craves like nothing else the confines of his throat, he's thrilled to be toyed with, to be licked and kissed and given the treatment of teeth. He prescribes it all to memory, hips shifting and body incapable of stilling.]
no subject
A moment spared to shifting around is Mettaton's chance to continue basking in the sight of his lover so prone before him, set between his legs like he's his prize dedicated to his pleasure. He focuses solely on how flattering this image is, something he'll return to almost in a third-person view to envision himself reclining, expecting his naked, bitten lover to please him and to inevitably arouse himself, and he wishes he had a mirror pointed their way to behold it. He imagines the view of Emet-Selch's body he could have, his lover not at all able to escape his gaze of him in every angle, and he shudders as Emet-Selch sighs into his crotch, settling his face there.
It's a distraction immediate. There's not much room to lament his lack of mirrors with the sight of his Bonded settled between his thighs, kissing and laving his balls and shaft with his tongue and kissing so sensually all over his length. Mettaton's hips don't still. He sucks in the air he doesn't need, a low, soft groan escaping from him. Emet-Selch's been made flushed with use, lip still bloodied and surely trailing blood about to be diluted in saliva. Mettaton's helpless as he witnesses his lover press his face to his cock, heavy as it leans against him; the sound of Emet-Selch's moan has his hips jerk, has him swallowing at the sound of it and the same train of thought: would Emet-Selch's use be made so evident that nobody would be unaware of it? How evident would it be, that he would swallow and suck his cock to please both himself and his Bonded Monster?
...It's not a disagreeable thought at all, as Mettaton's thrusts firm up in his imagination. He bites at his lower lip, imagining the thought of Emet-Selch made so obviously his and having that be on display for all. Just the thought has him lifting one of his thighs, instinctually wrapping it around Emet-Selch's shoulder in preparation to mark him up, cradled between his legs as he's soon to be. He wants everyone to know not only that he's his, but that he's dedicated to his pleasure, body and soul. He belongs to Mettaton, just like everything else in this room.
Wrapping him in his thighs as he slips over his cock is an image that can't be fulfilled soon enough. Mettaton anticipates it hungrily, licking his lips with a sultry stare.
But for now, there are lips sucking kisses into him, his lover nuzzling his erection, shoulders painted so attractively in bruises and blood... Mettaton's arrested at the sight of him and hiccups around the closing of his own throat. His hand gently slides along his lover's dark hair.]
Oh... You're beautiful, like this. Ah—
[Emet-Selch grazes him gently with teeth, and Mettaton's back arches back for a moment as he recoils, a growl slipping from his throat as he squeezes his eye shut. But he's quick to thrust his hips forward again, shoving his arousal fully against Emet-Selch's face with a force and an accompanying groan. Fingers petting him turn into knotting into his hair out of a need that grows exponentially, his length hard and thick and needing his lover's throat. Emet-Selch remains at the base of him, and Mettaton rubs the underside of his cock along the give of his lips with a craving made evident. He can only imagine them, soft and giving and wrapped around his girth.
He wants to lift him and shove his lips over the head of his length. But he also relishes watching Emet-Selch doing what he pleases to him, all of it pleasurable and contributing to this slow, coiling build of absolute heat in him that he can't get enough of. Ecstasy and sexual satisfaction are a vice he can't see himself living without anymore.
... It's not just that, though. It's this person he can't live without. This person is what satisfaction and dedication feels like, someone comfortable and trustworthy and his. He sighs at the sight of him, and Mettaton finds himself wrapping yet another thigh around his shoulder. Loosely, he holds him there, crossing his legs around him gently in eager wait. A perfect position to secure him over his cock, he thought, for when that moment comes. For now, Emet-Selch applies tongue and lips all around his balls and the root of his shaft while Mettaton's hips won't still, nearly begging to feel him attend to the sensitive, swollen head of him.]
Hades... [He doesn't need his own words to express his neediness, and though he craves like nothing else the confines of his throat, he's thrilled to be toyed with, to be licked and kissed and given the treatment of teeth. He prescribes it all to memory, hips shifting and body incapable of stilling.]