[Whatever sort of glimmers of pleasure he had showed when taking himself are rendered truly minor in comparison when given Mettaton's body instead. The continued drag of his shoulder was one point of possession- that of pain and demand, of damage and markings that would remain long afterward. And the press of Mettaton's cock was another, a shove that pushed the slick glans inside him as naturally as his teeth entered his shoulder. If there was any discomfort caused by his own tension, it didn't register, due to the pain he was already in.
Between the two Emet-Selch was left panting for air against the bed, the sound further broken up by low, ecstatic moans as Mettaton slides him the rest of his length. Stretching and taking, a thrusting that stuffed him ever fuller with each pass, every retreat only leaving him in aching anticipation for the next. He was caught, in both body and attention; it was like being tempered, his will subsumed, the only consequence his adoration.
Fingers gripped in spasming grasps against the bedcovers as his body was pounded into. Every movement jostled Mettaton's hold in his shoulder, teeth scraping against flesh raw and bloody, drooled over and essence swallowed, torn nerves sending regular bolts of intensity coursing through Emet-Selch's system. But that's all that it was truly registering as- intensity, an ache that blurred so thoroughly with arousal that he couldn't distinguish them. His erection hurt too, as it dragged stiffly against the bed, though any friction was at least a mercy, a kind of stimulation. More than it was usually afforded this night, so it counted as a luxury.
And he presses back, the muscles in his thighs shuddering, tensing, as he arches into the cock Mettaton was providing him, was filling and stroking him with. And every time, Emet-Selch also tugged at the grip his lover's jaws had on him, the resulting pang causing the movement of his arousal to hit him that much harder, that much more pleasurably and right. A deep and thorough rubbing that he couldn't escape, and would never dare to. How had he ever managed to hold out at all, knowing that this was waiting for him? It was unthinkable, to be without this, without him.
Clenching around him, Emet-Selch chokes on a moan. Mettaton's fury- his own obstinacy- though the Ascian wasn't in a place to consider it at the moment, he would admit that it gave the inevitable claiming a certain spark- the kind that could only be obtained through the tearing of flesh, of growling and anger and the foundation of love that underlined it all. It wasn't the sort of intensity he would want all the time- but that was part of why this chemistry with Mettaton had become so addictive, so volatile. They could have everything, extremes of gentleness and viciousness alike, as what were they in the end, but committed to one another's welfare, heights of pleasure included?
And the feeling then, clear through their alarmingly-open Bond, of fury gradually giving way to satisfaction and fierce delight- just as the Ascian's body was giving way to his erection and his incisors- was nearly the headiest part of it all. Dizzying in contrast, dark as though it might remain, it warmed him to experience. Mettaton clearly reveled in obtaining his subjugation, his compliance- and the Ascian took strange pleasure in finally providing it to him, in giving himself up to him again. It was worth inciting him, for moments like this. Particularly when some ferality remained, this roughness of mounting and having.
Mettaton could be aggressive and vicious, and Emet-Selch could be rebellious and perverse, and they would both somehow come out ahead....
--Ultimately, they loved one another.
And Emet-Selch was certainly fully receptive to him now, crying out against the bed with greater abandon, hardly noticing how hoarse he sounded, or the further strain he was causing his throat. As though having a cock thrusting down it wasn't enough, he was treating it like this. But how couldn't he, when Mettaton was making it clear how thick he was, how deep he could press, the pleasure he could leave him in with each stroke? His clear intention to fill him up with his come, and mark him that way?]
You... you're-- [Coherent words were the hardest of all, and interrupted by sounds that were more rasp than voice.] More of you, I... I want you, more than anyone, I....
no subject
Between the two Emet-Selch was left panting for air against the bed, the sound further broken up by low, ecstatic moans as Mettaton slides him the rest of his length. Stretching and taking, a thrusting that stuffed him ever fuller with each pass, every retreat only leaving him in aching anticipation for the next. He was caught, in both body and attention; it was like being tempered, his will subsumed, the only consequence his adoration.
Fingers gripped in spasming grasps against the bedcovers as his body was pounded into. Every movement jostled Mettaton's hold in his shoulder, teeth scraping against flesh raw and bloody, drooled over and essence swallowed, torn nerves sending regular bolts of intensity coursing through Emet-Selch's system. But that's all that it was truly registering as- intensity, an ache that blurred so thoroughly with arousal that he couldn't distinguish them. His erection hurt too, as it dragged stiffly against the bed, though any friction was at least a mercy, a kind of stimulation. More than it was usually afforded this night, so it counted as a luxury.
And he presses back, the muscles in his thighs shuddering, tensing, as he arches into the cock Mettaton was providing him, was filling and stroking him with. And every time, Emet-Selch also tugged at the grip his lover's jaws had on him, the resulting pang causing the movement of his arousal to hit him that much harder, that much more pleasurably and right. A deep and thorough rubbing that he couldn't escape, and would never dare to. How had he ever managed to hold out at all, knowing that this was waiting for him? It was unthinkable, to be without this, without him.
Clenching around him, Emet-Selch chokes on a moan. Mettaton's fury- his own obstinacy- though the Ascian wasn't in a place to consider it at the moment, he would admit that it gave the inevitable claiming a certain spark- the kind that could only be obtained through the tearing of flesh, of growling and anger and the foundation of love that underlined it all. It wasn't the sort of intensity he would want all the time- but that was part of why this chemistry with Mettaton had become so addictive, so volatile. They could have everything, extremes of gentleness and viciousness alike, as what were they in the end, but committed to one another's welfare, heights of pleasure included?
And the feeling then, clear through their alarmingly-open Bond, of fury gradually giving way to satisfaction and fierce delight- just as the Ascian's body was giving way to his erection and his incisors- was nearly the headiest part of it all. Dizzying in contrast, dark as though it might remain, it warmed him to experience. Mettaton clearly reveled in obtaining his subjugation, his compliance- and the Ascian took strange pleasure in finally providing it to him, in giving himself up to him again. It was worth inciting him, for moments like this. Particularly when some ferality remained, this roughness of mounting and having.
Mettaton could be aggressive and vicious, and Emet-Selch could be rebellious and perverse, and they would both somehow come out ahead....
--Ultimately, they loved one another.
And Emet-Selch was certainly fully receptive to him now, crying out against the bed with greater abandon, hardly noticing how hoarse he sounded, or the further strain he was causing his throat. As though having a cock thrusting down it wasn't enough, he was treating it like this. But how couldn't he, when Mettaton was making it clear how thick he was, how deep he could press, the pleasure he could leave him in with each stroke? His clear intention to fill him up with his come, and mark him that way?]
You... you're-- [Coherent words were the hardest of all, and interrupted by sounds that were more rasp than voice.] More of you, I... I want you, more than anyone, I....