[Mettaton lowers his face closer to the nape of Emet-Selch's neck, kissing him with a heat not at all contained. He drags his lips across his skin, continuing to slip his arousal along Emet-Selch's ass. He kisses him up to his ear, a hum on his voice still smooth, not raspy and worn like Emet-Selch's. A slight laugh rolls on it as though impossible to keep to himself, pleased at Emet-Selch's reply. He even nuzzles into the back of the Ascian's ear, pecking him with a lighter kiss. But his voice is still dark and low, sultry and warm.]
Perfect. I love it when our desires are the same.
[Another brief gesture of reassuring affection when the robotic Puca rubs his cheek into Emet-Selch's neck, still just pleased. Still just wanting to show him that he loves him, separate from all of the love made manifest in lust and sex.
But he draws his hips back, deliberately sliding the head of his cock teasingly against Emet-Selch's entrance. He presses into his body, spreading his own legs further apart to spread his lover's even more, nails pressing into his wrists in his struggle — and his thrusting grows a shade more fevered at Emet-Selch's ineffectual struggle, as though pleased to have him writhing, as though determined to put him in his place, if his place is total submission to his passion. He kisses his shoulders heatedly, fantasizing about the blood he could pull from any good bite and fantasizing even harder about the rush he'd get. He dreams of a bite's worth of blood and a load's worth of come, of sinking his cock into Emet-Selch's body and rubbing him that way. Pleasing Emet-Selch with the shape of his cock, to give him all of himself as he demands, and to stroke himself off in the process. This time, Emet-Selch would at least have the pressure of the mattress to rub against.
Not that he's proven he needs it much, Mettaton thinks smugly. But with how tantalizing it is to have Emet-Selch beneath him, with the prospect of pressing inside of him just beyond his reach... All of this is something he needs with immediacy.
The Puca shifts for a moment and kisses one of Emet-Selch's wrists as though to reassure him again as he unhands him. It's the arm closest to a side table, one where he reaches with ease for lubricant. (Being a robot continues to be a boon, for things like "having incredible reach so you don't need to leave your spot.") All he does, however, is unite it with Emet-Selch's hand, patting the back of it when he's placed it securely in his hand.]
I want to have you immediately. So you'll need to prepare yourself. You don't want me to.
[To demonstrate, Mettaton scrapes his nails lightly down the side of Emet-Selch's thigh to give him an idea: his claws would keep him from being very good at it, and that's just how it is. He further gives Emet-Selch a moment's worth of agency by unhanding his other wrist, kissing his shoulders and upper back some more.
And he finds himself pressing kisses all the way down his spine, letting his fingers and claws follow his ministrations as he pulls his body off of Emet-Selch to give him a chance to work on himself. Lips suck heated, open-mouthed kisses against his middle back, the small of it, then down to his ass, where he nips at him in his departure as he sets back upon his knees — his legs still spread so that Emet-Selch's made to remain that way. He gropes Emet-Selch's ass firmly, keeping his hands there and kneading him.]
Besides. I want to watch you touch yourself... I want to see how you imagine me taking you.
[All over again, Mettaton stares unabashed at his lover's body. It's his body to ogle, to enjoy, to pleasure and to be pleasured by, and watching him intimately like this merely one of the aspects of Emet-Selch belonging to him. And when he asks for Emet-Selch to prepare himself, he expects to be more than a clinical preparation — it's something he wants for their pleasure, to build the anticipation for what will be there. They'll both get what they want, in this regard.
Neither of them would go wanting. Anticipation and the wait accompanying it would always go rewarded, and with that in mind, the thought of being teased into wanting to displace Emet-Selch's fingers, the build of pressure that would accompany it... It almost maddens him the moment he considers it. But Mettaton lets that pressure build, prodding his lover's ass while he waits for Emet-Selch to finger himself.]
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Perfect. I love it when our desires are the same.
[Another brief gesture of reassuring affection when the robotic Puca rubs his cheek into Emet-Selch's neck, still just pleased. Still just wanting to show him that he loves him, separate from all of the love made manifest in lust and sex.
But he draws his hips back, deliberately sliding the head of his cock teasingly against Emet-Selch's entrance. He presses into his body, spreading his own legs further apart to spread his lover's even more, nails pressing into his wrists in his struggle — and his thrusting grows a shade more fevered at Emet-Selch's ineffectual struggle, as though pleased to have him writhing, as though determined to put him in his place, if his place is total submission to his passion. He kisses his shoulders heatedly, fantasizing about the blood he could pull from any good bite and fantasizing even harder about the rush he'd get. He dreams of a bite's worth of blood and a load's worth of come, of sinking his cock into Emet-Selch's body and rubbing him that way. Pleasing Emet-Selch with the shape of his cock, to give him all of himself as he demands, and to stroke himself off in the process. This time, Emet-Selch would at least have the pressure of the mattress to rub against.
Not that he's proven he needs it much, Mettaton thinks smugly. But with how tantalizing it is to have Emet-Selch beneath him, with the prospect of pressing inside of him just beyond his reach... All of this is something he needs with immediacy.
The Puca shifts for a moment and kisses one of Emet-Selch's wrists as though to reassure him again as he unhands him. It's the arm closest to a side table, one where he reaches with ease for lubricant. (Being a robot continues to be a boon, for things like "having incredible reach so you don't need to leave your spot.") All he does, however, is unite it with Emet-Selch's hand, patting the back of it when he's placed it securely in his hand.]
I want to have you immediately. So you'll need to prepare yourself. You don't want me to.
[To demonstrate, Mettaton scrapes his nails lightly down the side of Emet-Selch's thigh to give him an idea: his claws would keep him from being very good at it, and that's just how it is. He further gives Emet-Selch a moment's worth of agency by unhanding his other wrist, kissing his shoulders and upper back some more.
And he finds himself pressing kisses all the way down his spine, letting his fingers and claws follow his ministrations as he pulls his body off of Emet-Selch to give him a chance to work on himself. Lips suck heated, open-mouthed kisses against his middle back, the small of it, then down to his ass, where he nips at him in his departure as he sets back upon his knees — his legs still spread so that Emet-Selch's made to remain that way. He gropes Emet-Selch's ass firmly, keeping his hands there and kneading him.]
Besides. I want to watch you touch yourself... I want to see how you imagine me taking you.
[All over again, Mettaton stares unabashed at his lover's body. It's his body to ogle, to enjoy, to pleasure and to be pleasured by, and watching him intimately like this merely one of the aspects of Emet-Selch belonging to him. And when he asks for Emet-Selch to prepare himself, he expects to be more than a clinical preparation — it's something he wants for their pleasure, to build the anticipation for what will be there. They'll both get what they want, in this regard.
Neither of them would go wanting. Anticipation and the wait accompanying it would always go rewarded, and with that in mind, the thought of being teased into wanting to displace Emet-Selch's fingers, the build of pressure that would accompany it... It almost maddens him the moment he considers it. But Mettaton lets that pressure build, prodding his lover's ass while he waits for Emet-Selch to finger himself.]