[Feeling Mettaton's approval at this slight change in position, in where the puca's cock would be resting during climax, he makes a small, appreciative sound at being allowed this indulgence (a sound roughened to the point of inaudibility, only a hint of vibration remaining). And with his attentions provided, Emet-Selch didn't want it to feel at all a downgrade from the confines of his throat, only different, a position providing a different shade of possession. There was a claim in having him pressed flush to Mettaton's crotch, suffocated and choking, his release given directly past his throat, with little chance of escape. Vision would fade, and Emet-Selch would be caught, held in place by thighs and hands and his own will.
This was another sort of claim, a devotion applied with more deliberation to the soft tip of his cock, with his tongue to stroke, and his lips to press, a suction given around moans. A clear desire to not only swallow his come, but to taste it as well, another sense to be given ever more powerfully to his lover. An involuntary reflex of his body becoming a conscious acceptance, taking the ejaculate that would be spilling into his mouth and choosing to swallow it down.
Not that Emet-Selch is thinking of that in any specific detail, struck only by the impulse of feeling this specific sensation, in wanting to press and lick and suck around the head of his lover's erection at the moment of release.
Around him, he can feel the tension of thighs- one of the few areas that can demonstrate Mettaton's eagerness, though even without that, it would've been unmistakable. Between the moans and the thrusts, it was a robotic body that felt more alive than ever, the greater covering of fur only adding to the organic impression of him. Claws scratch his upper back and Emet-Selch would writhe into it if he could, and the muscles in his back tense pleasingly underneath the pointed pressure of it regardless, another sting to join the others, to add to all that was enveloping him.
With Mettaton still thrusting against the bed the Ascian's tongue provided, his body goes automatically taut, trembling when the first burst of come hits his tongue, eyes closed as he sucks with slow, deliberate ardor. Allowing it to gather in his mouth for a time, his senses are completely overwhelmed by every aspect of it. Between the sympathetic rapture present through Bond, to the thickness and heat of the fluid coating his tongue and his throat when he finally swallows part of him down, to the continued feeling of having the head of Mettaton's cock in his mouth- he's nearly startled at his own complementary climax.
Enough so that he cries out around his lover's yet-ejaculating cock, his gasps, however hoarse, causing his lips to part around him, allowing come to trail over his lower lip, to drip down his chin. But it's an oversight he corrects a few moments later, swallowing hard at what remains in his mouth, and renewing the slick seal around the glans of Mettaton's cock, to take whatever more he could give him. The Ascian's hand continues, but gradually slows its squeezing drags along the shaft, milking every drop that he can from him.
But eventually his touch slows to a pause, though trembling fingers remain loosely wrapped around him. His tongue licks slowly across the slit, though nothing more is forthcoming.
Even his own orgasm finally begins to fade, and Emet-Selch is dimly aware of additional wetness and heat running down his cock, dripping over his skin. The scent of their combined sex was nearly as overwhelming as the taste of Mettaton's come at his lips, which remain slick from it, with an undercurrent of his own saliva, and hint of blood. Finally parting from his cock, letting it slip from his mouth, Emet-Selch pants with greater ease... comparatively. His throat remains raw, and he has to push back the impulse to cough. His groan is a similarly uncomfortable sound to make, but he doesn't mind that either, shivering as he allows his head to rest back against Mettaton's crotch, his cock, breathing quickly against him.]
no subject
This was another sort of claim, a devotion applied with more deliberation to the soft tip of his cock, with his tongue to stroke, and his lips to press, a suction given around moans. A clear desire to not only swallow his come, but to taste it as well, another sense to be given ever more powerfully to his lover. An involuntary reflex of his body becoming a conscious acceptance, taking the ejaculate that would be spilling into his mouth and choosing to swallow it down.
Not that Emet-Selch is thinking of that in any specific detail, struck only by the impulse of feeling this specific sensation, in wanting to press and lick and suck around the head of his lover's erection at the moment of release.
Around him, he can feel the tension of thighs- one of the few areas that can demonstrate Mettaton's eagerness, though even without that, it would've been unmistakable. Between the moans and the thrusts, it was a robotic body that felt more alive than ever, the greater covering of fur only adding to the organic impression of him. Claws scratch his upper back and Emet-Selch would writhe into it if he could, and the muscles in his back tense pleasingly underneath the pointed pressure of it regardless, another sting to join the others, to add to all that was enveloping him.
With Mettaton still thrusting against the bed the Ascian's tongue provided, his body goes automatically taut, trembling when the first burst of come hits his tongue, eyes closed as he sucks with slow, deliberate ardor. Allowing it to gather in his mouth for a time, his senses are completely overwhelmed by every aspect of it. Between the sympathetic rapture present through Bond, to the thickness and heat of the fluid coating his tongue and his throat when he finally swallows part of him down, to the continued feeling of having the head of Mettaton's cock in his mouth- he's nearly startled at his own complementary climax.
Enough so that he cries out around his lover's yet-ejaculating cock, his gasps, however hoarse, causing his lips to part around him, allowing come to trail over his lower lip, to drip down his chin. But it's an oversight he corrects a few moments later, swallowing hard at what remains in his mouth, and renewing the slick seal around the glans of Mettaton's cock, to take whatever more he could give him. The Ascian's hand continues, but gradually slows its squeezing drags along the shaft, milking every drop that he can from him.
But eventually his touch slows to a pause, though trembling fingers remain loosely wrapped around him. His tongue licks slowly across the slit, though nothing more is forthcoming.
Even his own orgasm finally begins to fade, and Emet-Selch is dimly aware of additional wetness and heat running down his cock, dripping over his skin. The scent of their combined sex was nearly as overwhelming as the taste of Mettaton's come at his lips, which remain slick from it, with an undercurrent of his own saliva, and hint of blood. Finally parting from his cock, letting it slip from his mouth, Emet-Selch pants with greater ease... comparatively. His throat remains raw, and he has to push back the impulse to cough. His groan is a similarly uncomfortable sound to make, but he doesn't mind that either, shivering as he allows his head to rest back against Mettaton's crotch, his cock, breathing quickly against him.]