[Comments to have his ears leaning back in tall, contented satisfaction, eyelid dropping, gaze fixing evenly upon the Ascian. Bloodied diamonds to match sharper canines, dark fur, a luminous gaze and an overall monstrous bearing, Mettaton still gentles as he holds his Bonded close and strokes the back of his neck, finding with Emet-Selch this heightened ferality, but a reduction in frustration. Vastly. It helped, he thought, that his Bonded could satisfy him in many ways. Compliments and sex and reassurances, Mettaton would never go wanting without having his desires slaked, for as long as he had them, which would be always.
The comment about temptation has Mettaton smirking, wondering how he could tempt his lover into falling into him some more, though the softer part of him recognizes the soreness of his throat as something not to agitate further. But temptation on his own part is a hard thing to deny, and Emet-Selch's body, prone and bruised, easily accessible and giving, is worth every shred of attention. He envisions so vividly kissing him passionately, moving to mouth his neck; traveling to his shoulder, groping his ass, then finding his lover situated in his lap. But oh, how he wants to push him down and fuck him from behind as well, to fill him with cock while Emet-Selch can scarcely moan. He'd still take him, he knows it, and he'd appreciate feeling so full of Mettaton's cock. Mettaton makes a short noise from his throat, wanting.
If he thinks about too hard, he finds himself focusing on how hard he is, an increasing amount as time ticks on.
He sighs. Focuses instead on Emet-Selch's fingers and kisses and attention to his neck, focuses on the sentiment through Bond. It's not with the intent to deny himself, but to consider his lover, to pace himself, to temper his need into something he wields by his own rule. But he's also capable of fixing his attention upon his compliment — and it is a compliment.]
I match it, and enhance it. Yes. [Bejeweled, silver-plated chain crosses along his body and somehow manages to fit his form perfectly, despite having a torso shape more exaggerated than most, with a broader chest and a narrow waist. One of Mettaton's hands lifts to meet Emet-Selch's against the diamond, nuzzling gently against the other man's lips.] You're the only one who's said so today. Can you believe it? Then again... Not many have such refined tastes in regal splendor and sophisticated beauty.
[refined tastes. sophisticated and regal.
But Mettaton doesn't want to think about being denied compliments. He wants to think about Emet-Selch, and how readily he treats him to flattery. It's addicting. What's more, his lips are close enough to kiss, and Mettaton's been wanting that.
He turns his head just enough to catch his lips before he can form a reply as though possessed by the sudden realization that he can, and he hums in a short ascending note of pleasure when his tongue runs over his lower lip. The taste of blood lingers, but so does the taste of his come. Were Mettaton in a more human-shaped body, he may have tensed completely. Instead, he sort of twitches against Emet-Selch in his interest, leaning into him and pushing his tongue past his lips, flirting deeper and clearly tasting him. His lips are sucked, gently nipped, and Mettaton pauses for a moment. He does not, however, pull from his mouth, smiling against him instead
His hips rock gently, grinding his cock into his lover's body for something to do. Something to provide friction, sensualist that he is.]
You taste of me. It's perfect.
[His voice is low and smooth, a tone that couldn't be heard even an arm's length away. That hand he has against his Bonded's upon flashy diamonds skirts down, pressing against Emet-Selch's shoulder and running along his upper back, pressing into muscle and splaying his fingers upon his shoulder blade in a move of fondness. He considers that he not only tastes of him, but he looks ravished by him: bleeding for him, bruised for him, and come-marked for him, Emet-Selch is lovely. It's been some time since he's seen him unmarked, but he still keeps that memory in his mind's eye: he's always been handsome, a figure he knows by heart. Every scar and feature was always a point of his curiosity, and now it's a point worth his care. He nuzzles his lips against Emet-Selch's in a sudden gesture of love for him, nothing particularly libidinous.]
no subject
The comment about temptation has Mettaton smirking, wondering how he could tempt his lover into falling into him some more, though the softer part of him recognizes the soreness of his throat as something not to agitate further. But temptation on his own part is a hard thing to deny, and Emet-Selch's body, prone and bruised, easily accessible and giving, is worth every shred of attention. He envisions so vividly kissing him passionately, moving to mouth his neck; traveling to his shoulder, groping his ass, then finding his lover situated in his lap. But oh, how he wants to push him down and fuck him from behind as well, to fill him with cock while Emet-Selch can scarcely moan. He'd still take him, he knows it, and he'd appreciate feeling so full of Mettaton's cock. Mettaton makes a short noise from his throat, wanting.
If he thinks about too hard, he finds himself focusing on how hard he is, an increasing amount as time ticks on.
He sighs. Focuses instead on Emet-Selch's fingers and kisses and attention to his neck, focuses on the sentiment through Bond. It's not with the intent to deny himself, but to consider his lover, to pace himself, to temper his need into something he wields by his own rule. But he's also capable of fixing his attention upon his compliment — and it is a compliment.]
I match it, and enhance it. Yes. [Bejeweled, silver-plated chain crosses along his body and somehow manages to fit his form perfectly, despite having a torso shape more exaggerated than most, with a broader chest and a narrow waist. One of Mettaton's hands lifts to meet Emet-Selch's against the diamond, nuzzling gently against the other man's lips.] You're the only one who's said so today. Can you believe it? Then again... Not many have such refined tastes in regal splendor and sophisticated beauty.
[refined tastes. sophisticated and regal.
But Mettaton doesn't want to think about being denied compliments. He wants to think about Emet-Selch, and how readily he treats him to flattery. It's addicting. What's more, his lips are close enough to kiss, and Mettaton's been wanting that.
He turns his head just enough to catch his lips before he can form a reply as though possessed by the sudden realization that he can, and he hums in a short ascending note of pleasure when his tongue runs over his lower lip. The taste of blood lingers, but so does the taste of his come. Were Mettaton in a more human-shaped body, he may have tensed completely. Instead, he sort of twitches against Emet-Selch in his interest, leaning into him and pushing his tongue past his lips, flirting deeper and clearly tasting him. His lips are sucked, gently nipped, and Mettaton pauses for a moment. He does not, however, pull from his mouth, smiling against him instead
His hips rock gently, grinding his cock into his lover's body for something to do. Something to provide friction, sensualist that he is.]
You taste of me. It's perfect.
[His voice is low and smooth, a tone that couldn't be heard even an arm's length away. That hand he has against his Bonded's upon flashy diamonds skirts down, pressing against Emet-Selch's shoulder and running along his upper back, pressing into muscle and splaying his fingers upon his shoulder blade in a move of fondness. He considers that he not only tastes of him, but he looks ravished by him: bleeding for him, bruised for him, and come-marked for him, Emet-Selch is lovely. It's been some time since he's seen him unmarked, but he still keeps that memory in his mind's eye: he's always been handsome, a figure he knows by heart. Every scar and feature was always a point of his curiosity, and now it's a point worth his care. He nuzzles his lips against Emet-Selch's in a sudden gesture of love for him, nothing particularly libidinous.]