[Of course Emet-Selch would meet Mettaton's needy, short thrusts, impeded by the hardness of floor, with unobstructed shifting of his hips. He'd roll his hips and tighten over his length, and Mettaton would be left to moan, his capacity for speech rendered into use by vocalizations of pleasure instead, as he is right now. Yes, this is what he wants in this instant. More of this, more of his Bonded riding his cock and the way tightening muscle from shifting about feels wrapped around his shaft, massaging the head of him so soon, so sensitive.
He pulls himself together, haphazardly at best. His lover's curling against him, holding onto him and making a show of clinging tight, shoving his ass so firmly against his cock. He's equally reluctant to feel him leave his body at all, and Mettaton's body seizes and trembles at that thought and sensation, short, weak thrusts there to decorate the weight of his need. He has a task to perform now, and that's toting the Ascian back to the bed to fuck him some more.
The shower would be a diversion that would have to wait until they found themselves at the very least spent from this instance of sex, as aligned as they are in their need.
Mettaton gives Emet-Selch a squeeze of his own, adorned by a kiss to the side of his face. He's still warmed and reflecting over that heated mouthing of his jaw, a kiss to betray some measure of that want that the robot feels sympathetic to... The sheer amount of want between them is something so visible in the signs of his Bonded lover, something that anybody could see and know precisely how amorous a lover Emet-Selch has. And how possessive, especially if they were a Monster like Mettaton himself: why else does he dedicate himself so strongly to making sure Emet-Selch is thoroughly scented by him? A primal instinct that grows even stronger like this, the very smell of himself so prominent on his Bonded's body that manifests as a concoction of them together, intoxicating like a drug to the Puca. Emet-Selch is possessed.
He turns his face to receive some of those kisses near his lips, desperate to feel the heat of his mouth. His sigh is a shudder more than anything as he tries to shift them together to move.]
Of course... It's like I said. You're well-practiced... at anything involving spreading your legs around me. Tight as you can.
[He should be. Emet-Selch can use it to capture him and keep him close, to wrap around his hips and pull his cock into his body. What a flawless defense, if defense means that he's taking his cock.
When Mettaton shifts his body to rise, he's suddenly so impassioned by a feverish want that in trying to rise at all to wander to their bed, balancing Emet-Selch's ass against one arm and wrapping him secure across his back with the other, leads to a few firm thrusts that have Emet-Selch bouncing against his body. He shudders some more, holding Emet-Selch tight as can be against his body as he stammers around words he can't think to make.]
Ah... You. You feel so nice...
[Mettaton presses down against his ass, but even with that effort, standing up means that he's forced to withdraw just the root of his cock while he carries his lover to bed. It's a balancing act, but Mettaton is bestowed with the robotic strength to see it through. He slides first atop the mattress on his knees, setting himself down half-propped up against pillows, where he unfolds his legs. The robot sits back, letting Emet-Selch remain seated in his lap.
And here, he grabs his ass fiercely, spreading him apart as he pushes him back down against his cock. He forces Emet-Selch to sit firmly against the root of his shaft, shifting his hips in a gesture almost affectionate, if it weren't so horny and obvious about it. He sighs, smiling up at his lover.]
Perfect... Y-You can pleasure yourself on me, or. Or, I'll make you move...
[To demonstrate this, Mettaton takes Emet-Selch by the hold on his ass and slips him up his cock, then back down upon it, grinding him against his hips to his pleasure. He grits his teeth, making a soft 'Nnnn,' sound in self-afflicted inundation.]
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He pulls himself together, haphazardly at best. His lover's curling against him, holding onto him and making a show of clinging tight, shoving his ass so firmly against his cock. He's equally reluctant to feel him leave his body at all, and Mettaton's body seizes and trembles at that thought and sensation, short, weak thrusts there to decorate the weight of his need. He has a task to perform now, and that's toting the Ascian back to the bed to fuck him some more.
The shower would be a diversion that would have to wait until they found themselves at the very least spent from this instance of sex, as aligned as they are in their need.
Mettaton gives Emet-Selch a squeeze of his own, adorned by a kiss to the side of his face. He's still warmed and reflecting over that heated mouthing of his jaw, a kiss to betray some measure of that want that the robot feels sympathetic to... The sheer amount of want between them is something so visible in the signs of his Bonded lover, something that anybody could see and know precisely how amorous a lover Emet-Selch has. And how possessive, especially if they were a Monster like Mettaton himself: why else does he dedicate himself so strongly to making sure Emet-Selch is thoroughly scented by him? A primal instinct that grows even stronger like this, the very smell of himself so prominent on his Bonded's body that manifests as a concoction of them together, intoxicating like a drug to the Puca. Emet-Selch is possessed.
He turns his face to receive some of those kisses near his lips, desperate to feel the heat of his mouth. His sigh is a shudder more than anything as he tries to shift them together to move.]
Of course... It's like I said. You're well-practiced... at anything involving spreading your legs around me. Tight as you can.
[He should be. Emet-Selch can use it to capture him and keep him close, to wrap around his hips and pull his cock into his body. What a flawless defense, if defense means that he's taking his cock.
When Mettaton shifts his body to rise, he's suddenly so impassioned by a feverish want that in trying to rise at all to wander to their bed, balancing Emet-Selch's ass against one arm and wrapping him secure across his back with the other, leads to a few firm thrusts that have Emet-Selch bouncing against his body. He shudders some more, holding Emet-Selch tight as can be against his body as he stammers around words he can't think to make.]
Ah... You. You feel so nice...
[Mettaton presses down against his ass, but even with that effort, standing up means that he's forced to withdraw just the root of his cock while he carries his lover to bed. It's a balancing act, but Mettaton is bestowed with the robotic strength to see it through. He slides first atop the mattress on his knees, setting himself down half-propped up against pillows, where he unfolds his legs. The robot sits back, letting Emet-Selch remain seated in his lap.
And here, he grabs his ass fiercely, spreading him apart as he pushes him back down against his cock. He forces Emet-Selch to sit firmly against the root of his shaft, shifting his hips in a gesture almost affectionate, if it weren't so horny and obvious about it. He sighs, smiling up at his lover.]
Perfect... Y-You can pleasure yourself on me, or. Or, I'll make you move...
[To demonstrate this, Mettaton takes Emet-Selch by the hold on his ass and slips him up his cock, then back down upon it, grinding him against his hips to his pleasure. He grits his teeth, making a soft 'Nnnn,' sound in self-afflicted inundation.]