[Emet-Selch can more or less guess at the two most pressing options in Mettaton's head: fucking him now, or (probably) fucking him while he's being cleaned. Just letting him go to sleep wasn't even a distant third of a choice, which reduced the future to options that involved consciousness and touching each other. It was... pleasant, in a way he had a hard time understanding, to have his options made so straightforward, with anything beyond that not something he needed to consider.
And as more noticeable as his Bonded's erection became (something the Ascian was in a perfect location to pay attention to, something to elevate his pulse, though his own body had little means of following through on any interest), the more likely he thought it would be that the puca would give in to what was most readily available. All he would have to do is resume thrusting, continue to claim a body already prepared and stretched around him, further slicked by his come. He had already been shifting his hips with ever more suggestion of what he wanted to do (which was continue to have sex).
And then Mettaton's decision comes, accompanied by the warmth of his nuzzles, and followed by kisses to his neck that were anything but chaste. On one hand, Emet-Selch is slightly surprised by it, by this forestalling of satisfaction in favor of anything that did not include immediately continuing to fuck him. On the other, he knew that it was anything but a mercy (a mercy that he wouldn't have wanted anyway), and that Mettaton's assistance in cleaning him would be anything but clinical. A choice of having him under different circumstances only, and that's something the Ascian can accept readily.
So Mettaton pulling from his body was an acceptable development (and still gave him that mix of relief-and-regret, wanting that fullness, especially when his lover was still hard), the man having already decided for them their course of action. A decision that Emet-Selch had no problem accepting, as he attempts to push himself up, to look back at him over his shoulder. A movement that in itself hurt, straining several bites, but he ignores that.]
Would you? --Then I'll. Accept your help.
[He did like the mess sex left him in. The disarray of sweat and blood and come, a display of excess that both hid and enhanced the bruises and bites left underneath them. An indulgence arousing to think upon, an aftermath worth appreciation and reflection. Emet-Selch also liked being clean.
And that would bring its own sort of appreciation and comfort, to wrap up with Mettaton while damp with water, relaxed and enticed all at once. Comfortable, in a different sort of way, that any ache he felt would only enhance. It was an appealing thought... and worth a few moments of patience.
Getting his wounds washed would undoubtedly sting, but considering how frequently Mettaton bit him, this was a not unfamiliar part of the process. Having Mettaton able to inspect everything he'd applied though- it was a pleasing thought, to know he could admire his handiwork while it was at its freshest, and with minimal blood (delicious as it apparently was) getting in the way.
If Mettaton permits, he'll make the slow, shuffling effort of taking a position that wasn't face down on the bed with his legs spread. Anything that stretched his back was uncomfortable, and a few slowly-clotting wounds tear a bit in his effort, but at least only having been fucked this way once meant that he would still be able to walk without any real trouble. Even if his lover was more than capable of carrying him. No blind teleportation required either.
But once able to face him, Emet-Selch was struck again by how beautiful he was, long-clawed and bright-eye'd and blood-smeared. Glittering with jewelry and potential fervor, and a thick erection on display that he'd already taken several times. Another moment of recognizing his beauty, and even had the Ascian been more capable of speech, he probably would've still been just as inclined instead to respond to the sight by leaning over to kiss him. A gesture more tender than heated, though the hint of tongue suggested no reduction in attraction no matter the condition of his own body. Emet-Selch felt a mess by comparison, but that was fine; it was all a part of their shared efforts, and there was no one else he'd want to look like this for.]
no subject
And as more noticeable as his Bonded's erection became (something the Ascian was in a perfect location to pay attention to, something to elevate his pulse, though his own body had little means of following through on any interest), the more likely he thought it would be that the puca would give in to what was most readily available. All he would have to do is resume thrusting, continue to claim a body already prepared and stretched around him, further slicked by his come. He had already been shifting his hips with ever more suggestion of what he wanted to do (which was continue to have sex).
And then Mettaton's decision comes, accompanied by the warmth of his nuzzles, and followed by kisses to his neck that were anything but chaste. On one hand, Emet-Selch is slightly surprised by it, by this forestalling of satisfaction in favor of anything that did not include immediately continuing to fuck him. On the other, he knew that it was anything but a mercy (a mercy that he wouldn't have wanted anyway), and that Mettaton's assistance in cleaning him would be anything but clinical. A choice of having him under different circumstances only, and that's something the Ascian can accept readily.
So Mettaton pulling from his body was an acceptable development (and still gave him that mix of relief-and-regret, wanting that fullness, especially when his lover was still hard), the man having already decided for them their course of action. A decision that Emet-Selch had no problem accepting, as he attempts to push himself up, to look back at him over his shoulder. A movement that in itself hurt, straining several bites, but he ignores that.]
Would you? --Then I'll. Accept your help.
[He did like the mess sex left him in. The disarray of sweat and blood and come, a display of excess that both hid and enhanced the bruises and bites left underneath them. An indulgence arousing to think upon, an aftermath worth appreciation and reflection. Emet-Selch also liked being clean.
And that would bring its own sort of appreciation and comfort, to wrap up with Mettaton while damp with water, relaxed and enticed all at once. Comfortable, in a different sort of way, that any ache he felt would only enhance. It was an appealing thought... and worth a few moments of patience.
Getting his wounds washed would undoubtedly sting, but considering how frequently Mettaton bit him, this was a not unfamiliar part of the process. Having Mettaton able to inspect everything he'd applied though- it was a pleasing thought, to know he could admire his handiwork while it was at its freshest, and with minimal blood (delicious as it apparently was) getting in the way.
If Mettaton permits, he'll make the slow, shuffling effort of taking a position that wasn't face down on the bed with his legs spread. Anything that stretched his back was uncomfortable, and a few slowly-clotting wounds tear a bit in his effort, but at least only having been fucked this way once meant that he would still be able to walk without any real trouble. Even if his lover was more than capable of carrying him. No blind teleportation required either.
But once able to face him, Emet-Selch was struck again by how beautiful he was, long-clawed and bright-eye'd and blood-smeared. Glittering with jewelry and potential fervor, and a thick erection on display that he'd already taken several times. Another moment of recognizing his beauty, and even had the Ascian been more capable of speech, he probably would've still been just as inclined instead to respond to the sight by leaning over to kiss him. A gesture more tender than heated, though the hint of tongue suggested no reduction in attraction no matter the condition of his own body. Emet-Selch felt a mess by comparison, but that was fine; it was all a part of their shared efforts, and there was no one else he'd want to look like this for.]