[It was a sort of tenderness of expression to be lost in, and for all that Mettaton may not have a physical heart to skip beats, the Ascian's performs the action in his stead. An uncomfortable sensation, really, as though his own body were being made to fail him in another way, due to the infliction of love alone, but it's one he's found himself addicted to, another sensation that only Mettaton could give him. Another sensation to ever want more of. Emet-Selch rubs his cheek back against his lover's, wondering at how it was possible to feel both so soft towards someone, and so heated at the same time. To feel both in the first place.
And his exhalation is shuddered as Mettaton's arms wind their way around him, and he curls against his body. Even in the midst of tenderness, there was undeniable lust and continued attraction, and when he turns his head to press a kiss to his jaw, it's more of a mouthing, sucking sort of gesture. And Mettaton's own attempts to rock his hips up into him are met with a more deliberate adjusting on his part this time, pressing his ass against the robot's hips with a slow roll of movement, pulse quickening at even the idea of being able to just- continue having sex like this. No pulling out, no real break to speak of, the idol's come was still warming him. Just a smooth transition from one instance of sex to another.
How could either of them pass that up? Mettaton was hard, and Emet-Selch didn't have to ask whether he was willing; even if his cock was rendered oversensitive from all this friction, this continuous stroking provided by the confines of the Ascian's body- surely he'd only consider that a bonus? A lover of intensity as he was. And Emet-Selch would groan, low and needy against his face at the sound of his voice, such an intimate tone murmured against his ear- but of course he can't, the hesitation in his breathing the only sign of it. But it was entirely true regardless: he never would want Mettaton to stop. Not taking him, not loving him, none of it.
So he nods against his face again at the question, arms and legs squeezing them to show their willingness to hold on as necessary. And that he'd continue holding on for as long as necessary, move however was required of him- in order to bring them both to additional pleasure.
Especially if Mettaton could avoid pulling out from him at all; as hard as they both were, and as good as his lover felt inside him, he could hardly bear the thought of being without his cock for an instant.
Though it does amuse him that the only reason that they were on the floor was because Mettaton had pushed them there, after a failed attempt at reaching the shower without fucking again (though it had led to more sex, so it wasn't really a failure in any sense of the word). And now Mettaton intended to haul them... back to the bed, a trajectory that did not surprise him whatsoever, because considering their current state, how could they not just continue fucking.
He can't even feel exasperated at it this time, only warmed at the pure insatiability, the indulgence of it all. When they loved each other like this, how could they know restraint? Why should they ever need to? That the Ascian's voice was essentially gone, and his body a network of bruises and bites- that wasn't a sign of anything but how much they were enjoying one another. A sign so clear anyone would be able to read it as such. A passion so unmistakable that it would leave anyone who saw it in awe of them and their peerless expression of adoration.
Filled with anticipation as well as an erection and several rounds worth of come, Emet-Selch presses kisses against the side of Mettaton's face, breath warm and his body warmer. And wanting only to be made more warm yet, from the motion of their bodies together.]
no subject
And his exhalation is shuddered as Mettaton's arms wind their way around him, and he curls against his body. Even in the midst of tenderness, there was undeniable lust and continued attraction, and when he turns his head to press a kiss to his jaw, it's more of a mouthing, sucking sort of gesture. And Mettaton's own attempts to rock his hips up into him are met with a more deliberate adjusting on his part this time, pressing his ass against the robot's hips with a slow roll of movement, pulse quickening at even the idea of being able to just- continue having sex like this. No pulling out, no real break to speak of, the idol's come was still warming him. Just a smooth transition from one instance of sex to another.
How could either of them pass that up? Mettaton was hard, and Emet-Selch didn't have to ask whether he was willing; even if his cock was rendered oversensitive from all this friction, this continuous stroking provided by the confines of the Ascian's body- surely he'd only consider that a bonus? A lover of intensity as he was. And Emet-Selch would groan, low and needy against his face at the sound of his voice, such an intimate tone murmured against his ear- but of course he can't, the hesitation in his breathing the only sign of it. But it was entirely true regardless: he never would want Mettaton to stop. Not taking him, not loving him, none of it.
So he nods against his face again at the question, arms and legs squeezing them to show their willingness to hold on as necessary. And that he'd continue holding on for as long as necessary, move however was required of him- in order to bring them both to additional pleasure.
Especially if Mettaton could avoid pulling out from him at all; as hard as they both were, and as good as his lover felt inside him, he could hardly bear the thought of being without his cock for an instant.
Though it does amuse him that the only reason that they were on the floor was because Mettaton had pushed them there, after a failed attempt at reaching the shower without fucking again (though it had led to more sex, so it wasn't really a failure in any sense of the word). And now Mettaton intended to haul them... back to the bed, a trajectory that did not surprise him whatsoever, because considering their current state, how could they not just continue fucking.
He can't even feel exasperated at it this time, only warmed at the pure insatiability, the indulgence of it all. When they loved each other like this, how could they know restraint? Why should they ever need to? That the Ascian's voice was essentially gone, and his body a network of bruises and bites- that wasn't a sign of anything but how much they were enjoying one another. A sign so clear anyone would be able to read it as such. A passion so unmistakable that it would leave anyone who saw it in awe of them and their peerless expression of adoration.
Filled with anticipation as well as an erection and several rounds worth of come, Emet-Selch presses kisses against the side of Mettaton's face, breath warm and his body warmer. And wanting only to be made more warm yet, from the motion of their bodies together.]