[Mettaton could nearly throw his head back with the cry he makes, loud and clear as soon as Emet-Selch clenches around his length and he draws his body close with arms. That was enough; this is the push he needed to lose his mind.
Because he can only feel his lover's want for him. He can only feel his arms wrapped around his body, the clutching of fingers and the tension of muscle as Emet-Selch tries to draw him in not only for stability's sake, but to experience Mettaton's ecstasy with him. He has more than enough to share, finding himself gripping back down on Emet-Selch's shoulders even to brace himself from it all. A sensation he couldn't get enough of is this level of stimulation, something that he'd seek over and over in Emet-Selch's presence... And there had always been a level of this intensity between them. Fleshed out and shaped by love, it was something now that Mettaton's hooked on. He didn't plan to let go this time. Not for any reason.
Desperation is something they share between each other in this moment as Mettaton shifts his cock, rubbing its underside deeply along Emet-Selch's body in his pleasure. And this minute shift in access does bring his neck to arch, his body fighting between urges to remain lip-locked with his lover and to express his delight. He ends up slipping away from his lips, his own parting in yet another rapturous cry as he pounds into Emet-Selch, hard and fast and with every shred of effort his body could put into moving. Jerking his own cock, pulling the head of him sharply along his lover's body for the preferred, perfect stroke of the moment, which was precisely whichever he was achieving best with his Bonded's current position: beneath him, hips elevated and surrounded, nested in place by pillows so that he could belong to the Monster.
He can tell Emet-Selch's clenching is vying for him to spread his release. To fit his cock as deeply as he can and spill over, something Mettaton immediately prepares himself for when he feels that urgency for climax burning him alive. A few sharp pounds of his hips become his cock sunken deep, curling into his Bonded once more and continuing to pound, the sound of their bodies colliding only a backdrop to breath and gasps, moans and attempts at answering Emet-Selch's messy rendition of Mettaton's name with his.
There aren't any thoughts for Mettaton to spare toward much of anything save for all of the ways he's seen Emet-Selch, from guarded and cold to aching and exhausted, pleasured and... the rare smile. It's not at all hard for these firm final thrusts to yield his release with the size of Emet-Selch's want for him, and he feels come spurt and fill his lover with the root of his cock damming his body, hips firm and flush to his form in his greed. How good it feels to spill over into him, his hot load engulfing the head of his cock even as he's depositing it deeply into his lover. And the sheer relief is in his voice, the pleasure found in succumbing: all of that heat and pressure, the weight of his cock, foisted off upon Emet-Selch for him to hold and, inevitably, leak out upon his body as another sort of mark.
And for him to inevitably be made to lap it back up. Mettaton anticipates it all even as he finds himself in the throes of his climax, hips rocking short and hard, ensuring his release finds itself planted as deeply as he can manage.
...The idol's realized he's closed his eye, but as soon as he makes this notice, as soon as he finds himself being milked for come post-coitus, he opens it again. He fixes his love-drunk gaze upon Emet-Selch from above him, moans more slipping from his lips as he's stroked for his release until he couldn't possibly come any more of that milky, viscous fluid in this instant. But each pull along his length could still force him to moan, his voice nowhere near lost to him and pleasure easy to obtain at his Bonded's ministrations.
However, Mettaton gives way to collapsing into Emet-Selch, pressing together their cheeks, leaning into him for rest after so much effort. He'd be catching breath if he had any, but he still somehow feels breathless, body trembling after being so spent and used and aching hard, pressure finally released in the form of a heavy orgasm.
The robot can barely speak, but sound, soft moans and the sound of kisses still attached, falling into him with his cock still buried in his body, those are things he can manage. He nuzzles his cheek into his Bonded lover's, shuddering pronounced as weakened moans slip his throat, ears askew and incapable of emoting properly.]
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Because he can only feel his lover's want for him. He can only feel his arms wrapped around his body, the clutching of fingers and the tension of muscle as Emet-Selch tries to draw him in not only for stability's sake, but to experience Mettaton's ecstasy with him. He has more than enough to share, finding himself gripping back down on Emet-Selch's shoulders even to brace himself from it all. A sensation he couldn't get enough of is this level of stimulation, something that he'd seek over and over in Emet-Selch's presence... And there had always been a level of this intensity between them. Fleshed out and shaped by love, it was something now that Mettaton's hooked on. He didn't plan to let go this time. Not for any reason.
Desperation is something they share between each other in this moment as Mettaton shifts his cock, rubbing its underside deeply along Emet-Selch's body in his pleasure. And this minute shift in access does bring his neck to arch, his body fighting between urges to remain lip-locked with his lover and to express his delight. He ends up slipping away from his lips, his own parting in yet another rapturous cry as he pounds into Emet-Selch, hard and fast and with every shred of effort his body could put into moving. Jerking his own cock, pulling the head of him sharply along his lover's body for the preferred, perfect stroke of the moment, which was precisely whichever he was achieving best with his Bonded's current position: beneath him, hips elevated and surrounded, nested in place by pillows so that he could belong to the Monster.
He can tell Emet-Selch's clenching is vying for him to spread his release. To fit his cock as deeply as he can and spill over, something Mettaton immediately prepares himself for when he feels that urgency for climax burning him alive. A few sharp pounds of his hips become his cock sunken deep, curling into his Bonded once more and continuing to pound, the sound of their bodies colliding only a backdrop to breath and gasps, moans and attempts at answering Emet-Selch's messy rendition of Mettaton's name with his.
There aren't any thoughts for Mettaton to spare toward much of anything save for all of the ways he's seen Emet-Selch, from guarded and cold to aching and exhausted, pleasured and... the rare smile. It's not at all hard for these firm final thrusts to yield his release with the size of Emet-Selch's want for him, and he feels come spurt and fill his lover with the root of his cock damming his body, hips firm and flush to his form in his greed. How good it feels to spill over into him, his hot load engulfing the head of his cock even as he's depositing it deeply into his lover. And the sheer relief is in his voice, the pleasure found in succumbing: all of that heat and pressure, the weight of his cock, foisted off upon Emet-Selch for him to hold and, inevitably, leak out upon his body as another sort of mark.
And for him to inevitably be made to lap it back up. Mettaton anticipates it all even as he finds himself in the throes of his climax, hips rocking short and hard, ensuring his release finds itself planted as deeply as he can manage.
...The idol's realized he's closed his eye, but as soon as he makes this notice, as soon as he finds himself being milked for come post-coitus, he opens it again. He fixes his love-drunk gaze upon Emet-Selch from above him, moans more slipping from his lips as he's stroked for his release until he couldn't possibly come any more of that milky, viscous fluid in this instant. But each pull along his length could still force him to moan, his voice nowhere near lost to him and pleasure easy to obtain at his Bonded's ministrations.
However, Mettaton gives way to collapsing into Emet-Selch, pressing together their cheeks, leaning into him for rest after so much effort. He'd be catching breath if he had any, but he still somehow feels breathless, body trembling after being so spent and used and aching hard, pressure finally released in the form of a heavy orgasm.
The robot can barely speak, but sound, soft moans and the sound of kisses still attached, falling into him with his cock still buried in his body, those are things he can manage. He nuzzles his cheek into his Bonded lover's, shuddering pronounced as weakened moans slip his throat, ears askew and incapable of emoting properly.]