[It's not at all surprising, how weighty the Ascian's mood registered to Mettaton across the (short; near non-existent) distance of their Bond despite being a play along the same general feeling Mettaton held close. Yet even his own love felt heavy, but it was a weight Mettaton could manage without breaking a sweat, something that felt weightless — not too unlike the way he treats objects that might be considered heavy, as though they're nothing at all. But secure is something he feels, and the Ascian's presence always registered with a touch of darkness, even when he's not the one eclipsing any light. Secure, warm, familiar: how long had Emet-Selch helped to create such a feeling in Metttaton's heart?
Wrapped up tightly like this, in arms and between legs and kissed some more, he feels both the inclination to sink into it... and to squirm some more. Mettaton does both: he presses against Emet-Selch's lips with a hum and shifts the entire rest of himself, the pleasure of love his cause for distraction in body. Elation and tenderness exist at once, and he fels his chest and his hips pressing more firmly into his Bonded's body like this. He may have no sense for warmth, but even the give of flesh and muscle strikes him as the suggestion of heat in body, and he's certain of Emet-Selch's warmth.
Certain of a lot of things. Their love for each other, their individual heat, and how he has his lover appropriately bedded and protected by himself in a more instinctual sort of way. Appropriately taken and marked by himself, made his own and warmly claimed by himself, with all of the love and affection that exists in even the most violent parts of himself. Mettaton's confident that the vastness of his feelings can be felt by the both of them, even when it's too much to take in in one go: that's why he can overwhelm them both in pleasure and vice to express that much more of it. But here, now, he's nuzzling his lips with his own, shifting futilely even as he demonstrates obvious reluctance to withdraw his cock. Not just reluctance, but an eagerness to remain.
Mettaton shifts one of his arms finally, unhooking it from its clutches about Emet-Selch's shoulder. He lifts it and brings his fingertips to caress gingerly his neck, before treating it with a bit less of that care and palpating it, bruises and bite marks causing his eye to brighten with a sort of sick satisfaction in the sight of such injury. He remains hovering above Emet-Selch like this, drinking in the sights of bruise and puncture, before letting his eye fix upon Emet-Selch's with an undeniable heat.
And a fervent energy, as ever.]
Haha. Just think. We were trying to get to the shower, all this time... Whoopsie. [He doesn't look ashamed at all... And Mettaton doesn't seem to be all that eager to draw away any time soon.] Of course, you'd prefer being showered in my kisses. Drenched in fluids other than water... My my, Hades. The indecency of it.
[He gives Emet-Selch a charming smile that ends up having a sort of wickedness to its edges, with the darkness of fur creeping up his shoulders and the brightness of his eyes; the ever-present animalistic manner to his every movement that feels it could ramp up in an instant. Mettaton's certainly reached a point already after his last ejaculation where his body's capable of being coaxed back into arousal, back to building up a brand new instance of release and a stiffened cock. With Mettaton's persistent shifting, it won't be hard for him to do on his own. (Or it'll be easily hard, however it should be said.)
But there's a sticky, sweet manner to him, pleased to have his lover caught and pinned and still impaled by his cock. Yes, with thoughts like these, he'll be hard in no time. But he assume Emet-Selch could only feel flattered to have Mettaton himself so hard. Being so used by him in body is an honor, after all.]
Your energy... Don't think I can't feel how much I've drained you, thought. Yet you tease me still...
[Emet-Selch teases Mettaton by existing and not trying to disengage from his body, apparently. As if he could, with a heavy robot body atop him and claws and cock pinning him in place, in a sort of position that makes him terribly prone and less capable of escape. Mettaton still continues to shift atop his body as though restless, and restless he is. With the influence of those pendants, he feels only inclined toward movement. And with his love interest in the room, he feels further inclined toward channeling all of that mischievousness and energy into fucking him, as opposed to his usual full moon activities.]
no subject
Wrapped up tightly like this, in arms and between legs and kissed some more, he feels both the inclination to sink into it... and to squirm some more. Mettaton does both: he presses against Emet-Selch's lips with a hum and shifts the entire rest of himself, the pleasure of love his cause for distraction in body. Elation and tenderness exist at once, and he fels his chest and his hips pressing more firmly into his Bonded's body like this. He may have no sense for warmth, but even the give of flesh and muscle strikes him as the suggestion of heat in body, and he's certain of Emet-Selch's warmth.
Certain of a lot of things. Their love for each other, their individual heat, and how he has his lover appropriately bedded and protected by himself in a more instinctual sort of way. Appropriately taken and marked by himself, made his own and warmly claimed by himself, with all of the love and affection that exists in even the most violent parts of himself. Mettaton's confident that the vastness of his feelings can be felt by the both of them, even when it's too much to take in in one go: that's why he can overwhelm them both in pleasure and vice to express that much more of it. But here, now, he's nuzzling his lips with his own, shifting futilely even as he demonstrates obvious reluctance to withdraw his cock. Not just reluctance, but an eagerness to remain.
Mettaton shifts one of his arms finally, unhooking it from its clutches about Emet-Selch's shoulder. He lifts it and brings his fingertips to caress gingerly his neck, before treating it with a bit less of that care and palpating it, bruises and bite marks causing his eye to brighten with a sort of sick satisfaction in the sight of such injury. He remains hovering above Emet-Selch like this, drinking in the sights of bruise and puncture, before letting his eye fix upon Emet-Selch's with an undeniable heat.
And a fervent energy, as ever.]
Haha. Just think. We were trying to get to the shower, all this time... Whoopsie. [He doesn't look ashamed at all... And Mettaton doesn't seem to be all that eager to draw away any time soon.] Of course, you'd prefer being showered in my kisses. Drenched in fluids other than water... My my, Hades. The indecency of it.
[He gives Emet-Selch a charming smile that ends up having a sort of wickedness to its edges, with the darkness of fur creeping up his shoulders and the brightness of his eyes; the ever-present animalistic manner to his every movement that feels it could ramp up in an instant. Mettaton's certainly reached a point already after his last ejaculation where his body's capable of being coaxed back into arousal, back to building up a brand new instance of release and a stiffened cock. With Mettaton's persistent shifting, it won't be hard for him to do on his own. (Or it'll be easily hard, however it should be said.)
But there's a sticky, sweet manner to him, pleased to have his lover caught and pinned and still impaled by his cock. Yes, with thoughts like these, he'll be hard in no time. But he assume Emet-Selch could only feel flattered to have Mettaton himself so hard. Being so used by him in body is an honor, after all.]
Your energy... Don't think I can't feel how much I've drained you, thought. Yet you tease me still...
[Emet-Selch teases Mettaton by existing and not trying to disengage from his body, apparently. As if he could, with a heavy robot body atop him and claws and cock pinning him in place, in a sort of position that makes him terribly prone and less capable of escape. Mettaton still continues to shift atop his body as though restless, and restless he is. With the influence of those pendants, he feels only inclined toward movement. And with his love interest in the room, he feels further inclined toward channeling all of that mischievousness and energy into fucking him, as opposed to his usual full moon activities.]