[Mettaton has no other words for his lover than endearing, adorable, lovely with his mussed hair and flushed face, split lip and bruises and blood, completely used from lips to cock to body. Used only by Mettaton to this extent: Emet-Selch was his to take and enjoy like this.
How dedicated to his ecstasy the Ascian proves himself to be, he notes with an eye that widens with each moment in his hunger for him. As soon as he poses his fingers before the other man for his enjoyment and his taking, Emet-Selch does it with such deliberation that it has his body seizing, still as he's overcome by this. Even his own erection stops being among the center of his focus as his Bonded gently laps over his fingers, his technique both one thorough and one of bliss, an expression undeniable of his desire and his love. His yellow eyes meet Mettaton's for a moment before they flutter closed, his lips and tongue soft and so dedicated even around sharp, terrible claws, all for the sake of tonguing and enjoying Mettaton's once-deposited come. Come that found a new home upon Emet-Selch's skin, that would find a new home in his mouth, sliding down his raw, fucked throat.
Every pass of his tongue poses the risk of showing Mettaton how much come Emet-Selch's taken into his mouth, and it's a sight so erotic that his cock reminds him it's there again, pressure intensifying and hips gyrating, continuing to unconsciously knead the glans against his lover's entrance. So soft, wet, giving... It's the perfect environment for a rigid, heavy cock, one slick and damp and hot, a receptacle for all of the heaviness he always feels building in him every time Emet-Selch arouses him.
Mettaton bites his lip again in sympathy for the taste and the pleasure Emet-Selch takes in sucking and drinking down his digits, nearly biting him with his want and steadying his wrist for a more perfect hold upon them. Rapturously, he sucks. Delicately and deliberately, he ensures that he's licked up every last drop of come he could, as though thrilled to give it a new home after their first attempt at filling Emet-Selch resulted in him being so overfull, stuffed with entirely too much come for his body to handle.
But it's precisely because it's so full that both of them find it desirable, to fill him once more, to render Emet-Selch always dripping and the both of them endlessly appetitive.
Watching Emet-Selch sucking his fingers leads Mettaton's gaze down to the hand he has on his hip, claws denting his skin as though trying to capture his prey with a touch too gentle to be predatory. Emet-Selch's cock hardens deliciously, and Mettaton stares at it unabashed, thinking back to that first time he'd ever sucked the other man off — back to the first time he'd ever climbed atop his lover, wrapped that length in his thighs as they tried desperately to bind themselves ever closer. Here, though... Now, their closeness had no limits, and he could leave himself inside Emet-Selch. He could take Mettaton's come and cock in return.
Mettaton heaves a sigh, dreamlike as delight manifests on his features.]
So good, Hades... I can see your love for me. Your appreciation for my body, and all it does for you. [Embellished by another sigh, Mettaton withdraws his fingers, sticky and covered only in saliva at this point. Those claws briefly tuck hair behind Emet-Selch's ears, no matter how spit covered they are. (Would anything make them any less of a mess?)
That hand is on a mission, however, and it rests against the back of Emet-Selch's neck to bring his lover closer to Mettaton's lips. The robot closes in, wrapping his lips over Emet-Selch's with a low rumble in his throat, shoving his tongue deeply into his mouth. Prodding and sliding along his lover's tongue, there's a clear intent to taste himself in his Bonded's mouth — and an obvious reward gained when he moans into him, finding that Emet-Selch tastes plentifully of him.
He sucks his lip, his tongue, invades his mouth, kissing and giving only moments of air to his Bonded, filling their mouths with the taste of each other while his hand runs its course back down his lover's body, slipping over the shape of Emet-Selch's chest, waist, then settling upon his hips. The Puca kneads him, presses claws into skin before squeezing his hips, a grip firm and inescapable, as he pulls back from their kiss with a dark, wicked smile.
And there, Mettaton forces Emet-Selch to sit upon his length. He penetrates him; he sinks into his body, letting that tight ring of muscle first settle upon the corona of his length with a gasping moan before pushing deeper, inexorably, waiting to feel and hear his lover in a state of overwhelmed, waiting to feel him arch his back with his surprise and inundation.
He cries out, relief decorating his voice. His tone is strangled yet airy and high, pressure alleviated around his cock by being so squeezed, and he feels the need to tell Emet-Selch what a relief his body is.]
Oh, dearest... You- I'm so hard, you squeeze me just... right...! Ah...
[It's not the most elegant and precise way he could put it, but in his desperation and ecstasy, it'll do. He practically sheathes himself in Emet-Selch's body, a body already stretched and slicked for him before that he fits him tight and perfect, and Mettaton moans again, even when he tries to regain coherency. He can't. He's senseless, he's fevered, he's ready to fill Emet-Selch with another heavy load and could find himself doing so endlessly.
He hiccups, opening his eye once again and nuzzling into his lover's lips. His voice is still desperate, but lower this time.]
You'll... certainly put another load to good use, w... won't you.
[Emet-Selch will take his cock and squeeze around him, milk him for his release while he ejaculates upon them both, as though replacing the fluid he'll inevitably use with Mettaton's. The robot can't still his hips, can't stop shifting his body in an attempt to expel heat — a heat he'll only find relief from upon climaxing into his lover's body.]
no subject
How dedicated to his ecstasy the Ascian proves himself to be, he notes with an eye that widens with each moment in his hunger for him. As soon as he poses his fingers before the other man for his enjoyment and his taking, Emet-Selch does it with such deliberation that it has his body seizing, still as he's overcome by this. Even his own erection stops being among the center of his focus as his Bonded gently laps over his fingers, his technique both one thorough and one of bliss, an expression undeniable of his desire and his love. His yellow eyes meet Mettaton's for a moment before they flutter closed, his lips and tongue soft and so dedicated even around sharp, terrible claws, all for the sake of tonguing and enjoying Mettaton's once-deposited come. Come that found a new home upon Emet-Selch's skin, that would find a new home in his mouth, sliding down his raw, fucked throat.
Every pass of his tongue poses the risk of showing Mettaton how much come Emet-Selch's taken into his mouth, and it's a sight so erotic that his cock reminds him it's there again, pressure intensifying and hips gyrating, continuing to unconsciously knead the glans against his lover's entrance. So soft, wet, giving... It's the perfect environment for a rigid, heavy cock, one slick and damp and hot, a receptacle for all of the heaviness he always feels building in him every time Emet-Selch arouses him.
Mettaton bites his lip again in sympathy for the taste and the pleasure Emet-Selch takes in sucking and drinking down his digits, nearly biting him with his want and steadying his wrist for a more perfect hold upon them. Rapturously, he sucks. Delicately and deliberately, he ensures that he's licked up every last drop of come he could, as though thrilled to give it a new home after their first attempt at filling Emet-Selch resulted in him being so overfull, stuffed with entirely too much come for his body to handle.
But it's precisely because it's so full that both of them find it desirable, to fill him once more, to render Emet-Selch always dripping and the both of them endlessly appetitive.
Watching Emet-Selch sucking his fingers leads Mettaton's gaze down to the hand he has on his hip, claws denting his skin as though trying to capture his prey with a touch too gentle to be predatory. Emet-Selch's cock hardens deliciously, and Mettaton stares at it unabashed, thinking back to that first time he'd ever sucked the other man off — back to the first time he'd ever climbed atop his lover, wrapped that length in his thighs as they tried desperately to bind themselves ever closer. Here, though... Now, their closeness had no limits, and he could leave himself inside Emet-Selch. He could take Mettaton's come and cock in return.
Mettaton heaves a sigh, dreamlike as delight manifests on his features.]
So good, Hades... I can see your love for me. Your appreciation for my body, and all it does for you. [Embellished by another sigh, Mettaton withdraws his fingers, sticky and covered only in saliva at this point. Those claws briefly tuck hair behind Emet-Selch's ears, no matter how spit covered they are. (Would anything make them any less of a mess?)
That hand is on a mission, however, and it rests against the back of Emet-Selch's neck to bring his lover closer to Mettaton's lips. The robot closes in, wrapping his lips over Emet-Selch's with a low rumble in his throat, shoving his tongue deeply into his mouth. Prodding and sliding along his lover's tongue, there's a clear intent to taste himself in his Bonded's mouth — and an obvious reward gained when he moans into him, finding that Emet-Selch tastes plentifully of him.
He sucks his lip, his tongue, invades his mouth, kissing and giving only moments of air to his Bonded, filling their mouths with the taste of each other while his hand runs its course back down his lover's body, slipping over the shape of Emet-Selch's chest, waist, then settling upon his hips. The Puca kneads him, presses claws into skin before squeezing his hips, a grip firm and inescapable, as he pulls back from their kiss with a dark, wicked smile.
And there, Mettaton forces Emet-Selch to sit upon his length. He penetrates him; he sinks into his body, letting that tight ring of muscle first settle upon the corona of his length with a gasping moan before pushing deeper, inexorably, waiting to feel and hear his lover in a state of overwhelmed, waiting to feel him arch his back with his surprise and inundation.
He cries out, relief decorating his voice. His tone is strangled yet airy and high, pressure alleviated around his cock by being so squeezed, and he feels the need to tell Emet-Selch what a relief his body is.]
Oh, dearest... You- I'm so hard, you squeeze me just... right...! Ah...
[It's not the most elegant and precise way he could put it, but in his desperation and ecstasy, it'll do. He practically sheathes himself in Emet-Selch's body, a body already stretched and slicked for him before that he fits him tight and perfect, and Mettaton moans again, even when he tries to regain coherency. He can't. He's senseless, he's fevered, he's ready to fill Emet-Selch with another heavy load and could find himself doing so endlessly.
He hiccups, opening his eye once again and nuzzling into his lover's lips. His voice is still desperate, but lower this time.]
You'll... certainly put another load to good use, w... won't you.
[Emet-Selch will take his cock and squeeze around him, milk him for his release while he ejaculates upon them both, as though replacing the fluid he'll inevitably use with Mettaton's. The robot can't still his hips, can't stop shifting his body in an attempt to expel heat — a heat he'll only find relief from upon climaxing into his lover's body.]