[Mettaton's both awe- and love-struck at the sight of Emet-Selch in this moment, watching him in complete rapture, dazed and euphoric and unleashed from every worry or weight, tasked only with this. With fucking himself, with rubbing off Mettaton's cock with the application of his body, his body an embrace of heat and pressure around an erection likewise hot and full. Two things that, when put together, would create friction until it spilled over, inevitably.
But Emet-Selch loses himself right before Mettaton's sights, and it's about the only thing keeping the robot himself from just letting loose and succumbing to pure bliss: he wants to watch, he'll do anything he can to witness the unfolding of his beloved. A man pushed to such ends out of love and carnal want, to be held and to be fucked, to keep his company like this, and Mettaton loves every moment of this display. His lips are parted, his arousal is rigid and thrusts madly into his waiting fingers, but his attention is so clearly on pounding himself with Mettaton's thick cock, on massaging and kneading himself deep inside with the defined, sloping glans of him.
An observation made manifest as soon as his lover arches, all sounds rendered into nothing but air, but so loud for it. It becomes clear at the short, determined roll of his hips that his lover's found a perfect spot, and Mettaton nearly comes on a dime at the notion — and the sensation. The Puca stammers and nearly chokes, his head lolling as he cries out.]
Hades...! [His voice is high and strangled and on a gasp, loud yet clear, smooth and song-like.] There—!
[As though the Ascian needed to be told that to continue, his rocking a pleasure for them both. He rubs the glans so firmly, a rub that manages to run along the top of his shaft and tugs divinely at the whole of him, tension of Emet-Selch's body pulling back on his cock as though trying to keep it for good. Mettaton's thrusts are curving, short and hard to only compliment this particular drag, the shaft of him pushing and dragging completely along Emet-Selch's body. This arch of his back is beautiful, Mettaton thinks, and worthy of having his whole cock squeezed over, from root to tip.
And as if on cue, Emet-Selch finds his release, gasping and trying to cry out as his pleasure peaks and transcends them. Mettaton can feel it, it's his own pleasure now, and his thrusts firm as his lover maintains his diligence, even while come spurts from the tip, the curve of his cock so arched and body so tensed that his ejaculate paints his abdomen again, oozing plentifully over the idol's digits.
He chokes at the sight on a moan. Emet-Selch in his release is the picture of heavenly, a man suited to come all over Mettaton's fingers and to squeeze out every drop of himself by bearing down on Mettaton's cock, grinding and thrusting into him so that instances more of come drip and gush from the head of his cock. How suckable he looks then, Mettaton thinks, enraptured and full, body aching in heated pressure and feeling the throbbing pulse of his lover's body wrapped tight around him. The robot's awareness of his own body is that his balls feel so heavy, his cock even heavier in his lover's body, thick and engorged, the sheer pressure of him taking on the pounding, speeding pulse of Emet-Selch's body wrapped around him. He's clamped around the head of his cock, the glans swollen even compared to the thickness of him, something Emet-Selch could easily tense around to stroke his insides with until he peaked with pleasure.
Mettaton doesn't even realize it all at first, when climax hits him. Heat swallows his girth, pleasure bleeding into yet more pleasure - more than he could ever dream of - as he transitions from the ecstasy of his lover to the euphoria of his own release. Emet-Selch still rides his cock, still milks his own length as he does precisely the same to Mettaton. The Puca receives Emet-Selch into the crook of his neck and moans next to his ear, nuzzling into him for relief from it all while his body spasms and trembles under the weight of his lover, short, sharp thrusts of his hips to help spill ejaculate where it needs to go, to aid in filling his lover fuller and fuller of his come, of his cock.
Ass to Mettaton's hips, they collide into each other in desperation to somehow combine, wanting nothing more than to continue endlessly. Mettaton can't believe this is what he could obtain, that pleasure of this magnitude could be found with this man, that someone out there could match him and meet him in this way. That he could serve him so well, that Emet-Selch would be so tender in all of the right ways. He loves him; he adores him.
Their ecstasy only reflects off of each other, and their bodies never seem to take the cue to cease. Mettaton finds that he's wrapped one of his arms around Emet-Selch's back, holding him close as his body tries to pull them down to collapse into each other, still propped up, still in rapture, still connected. Dazed, blinded, seeing only Emet-Selch and wanting to keep him ever in his sights, to enrapture his attention. For him to always touch him and see him, to hear his name on his voice.
When Mettaton's body finally comes anywhere close to down, a soft, airy moan slips from his throat, holding more tightly onto his Bonded as the hand around his cock slackens somewhat.]
no subject
But Emet-Selch loses himself right before Mettaton's sights, and it's about the only thing keeping the robot himself from just letting loose and succumbing to pure bliss: he wants to watch, he'll do anything he can to witness the unfolding of his beloved. A man pushed to such ends out of love and carnal want, to be held and to be fucked, to keep his company like this, and Mettaton loves every moment of this display. His lips are parted, his arousal is rigid and thrusts madly into his waiting fingers, but his attention is so clearly on pounding himself with Mettaton's thick cock, on massaging and kneading himself deep inside with the defined, sloping glans of him.
An observation made manifest as soon as his lover arches, all sounds rendered into nothing but air, but so loud for it. It becomes clear at the short, determined roll of his hips that his lover's found a perfect spot, and Mettaton nearly comes on a dime at the notion — and the sensation. The Puca stammers and nearly chokes, his head lolling as he cries out.]
Hades...! [His voice is high and strangled and on a gasp, loud yet clear, smooth and song-like.] There—!
[As though the Ascian needed to be told that to continue, his rocking a pleasure for them both. He rubs the glans so firmly, a rub that manages to run along the top of his shaft and tugs divinely at the whole of him, tension of Emet-Selch's body pulling back on his cock as though trying to keep it for good. Mettaton's thrusts are curving, short and hard to only compliment this particular drag, the shaft of him pushing and dragging completely along Emet-Selch's body. This arch of his back is beautiful, Mettaton thinks, and worthy of having his whole cock squeezed over, from root to tip.
And as if on cue, Emet-Selch finds his release, gasping and trying to cry out as his pleasure peaks and transcends them. Mettaton can feel it, it's his own pleasure now, and his thrusts firm as his lover maintains his diligence, even while come spurts from the tip, the curve of his cock so arched and body so tensed that his ejaculate paints his abdomen again, oozing plentifully over the idol's digits.
He chokes at the sight on a moan. Emet-Selch in his release is the picture of heavenly, a man suited to come all over Mettaton's fingers and to squeeze out every drop of himself by bearing down on Mettaton's cock, grinding and thrusting into him so that instances more of come drip and gush from the head of his cock. How suckable he looks then, Mettaton thinks, enraptured and full, body aching in heated pressure and feeling the throbbing pulse of his lover's body wrapped tight around him. The robot's awareness of his own body is that his balls feel so heavy, his cock even heavier in his lover's body, thick and engorged, the sheer pressure of him taking on the pounding, speeding pulse of Emet-Selch's body wrapped around him. He's clamped around the head of his cock, the glans swollen even compared to the thickness of him, something Emet-Selch could easily tense around to stroke his insides with until he peaked with pleasure.
Mettaton doesn't even realize it all at first, when climax hits him. Heat swallows his girth, pleasure bleeding into yet more pleasure - more than he could ever dream of - as he transitions from the ecstasy of his lover to the euphoria of his own release. Emet-Selch still rides his cock, still milks his own length as he does precisely the same to Mettaton. The Puca receives Emet-Selch into the crook of his neck and moans next to his ear, nuzzling into him for relief from it all while his body spasms and trembles under the weight of his lover, short, sharp thrusts of his hips to help spill ejaculate where it needs to go, to aid in filling his lover fuller and fuller of his come, of his cock.
Ass to Mettaton's hips, they collide into each other in desperation to somehow combine, wanting nothing more than to continue endlessly. Mettaton can't believe this is what he could obtain, that pleasure of this magnitude could be found with this man, that someone out there could match him and meet him in this way. That he could serve him so well, that Emet-Selch would be so tender in all of the right ways. He loves him; he adores him.
Their ecstasy only reflects off of each other, and their bodies never seem to take the cue to cease. Mettaton finds that he's wrapped one of his arms around Emet-Selch's back, holding him close as his body tries to pull them down to collapse into each other, still propped up, still in rapture, still connected. Dazed, blinded, seeing only Emet-Selch and wanting to keep him ever in his sights, to enrapture his attention. For him to always touch him and see him, to hear his name on his voice.
When Mettaton's body finally comes anywhere close to down, a soft, airy moan slips from his throat, holding more tightly onto his Bonded as the hand around his cock slackens somewhat.]