[It was a reassurance still to realize that they yet both tasted primarily of each other, and it was a status that was always worth renewing. Though it's not quite sound that forms in his throat, there's a hint of pleased vibration at Mettaton's answer to the kiss, the stroke and sliding of their tongues together, as they slipped entirely naturally into making out with each other. And Emet-Selch can tell that even though they weren't at their most desperate, panting and frantic and hot, a haphazard meeting of lip and tongue, peppered with bites and moans- that it was still far from light or innocent, or the kind of kissing they could get away with doing for too long in public. It was far too intimate for that. Even the slight jostling of Mettaton's length felt as much intimate as it did outright sexual (though it was that too, of course, inescapably so). But it felt almost- affectionate, in a way, a reminder of their closeness, that this joining of their bodies went deeper than that.
Of course, considering their bodies as a whole, Mettaton still mounting the Ascian, cock stuffed inside him, blood and come smeared between them, saliva also in any number of places... intimacy would've been a more likely assumption than not. But not a given, he thought; it would've been possible for something like this to be primarily carnal alone- though it was hard for him to imagine ever divorcing it entirely from its emotional aspect, not with them, not after all they'd spoken of and done together. This degree of comfort and shared passions would never have been possible had they not fallen as far as they had for each other. So much of the pleasure was due to their mutual trust, respect, affection....
Even from their first encounters, Emet-Selch knew emotion had played a certain important role. That from the start they had been interested in one another, curious- a mutual investment that had grown over time. And that Mettaton could be so unalarmed by it, could approach these feelings so steadily as though there was nothing to be afraid of in falling in love, no reason to hold back or deny- it was something the Ascian still didn't understand but was grateful for. If Mettaton hadn't, then- he doubted he ever would've acknowledged a thing.
The way they kissed each other now, though- it would be impossible to mistake it as anything but the actions of two people fiercely in love with one another. The intimacy had become intrinsic, and this meeting of lips and tongue was the clearest sign of it, even more than that of anywhere else their bodies met and merged. And for the moment it was tempered passion, though not spent- something that had been fed once more, yet still possessing of the capacity to be stoked once again. That it could still rise and consume them, and that they would do nothing but welcome being burned.
Emet-Selch knew this, and in some distant, uninvolved way, also had an idea of the likely condition of his body- but his kiss becomes no less invested, with no degree of hesitancy in the potential of encouraging Mettaton's continued arousal towards him. Even if his body faltered, it was fine- his lover's occasional suck upon his tongue only assured him he was fine, somehow. The hand in his hair, claws so gentle across his skin... he felt so secure with every touch, and that bit more renewed in his devotion to him. It wasn't even a question of failing to not encourage him; the Ascian wanted him still, from claws to cock, and would be satisfied with his company alone. He even thinks again about marrying him, and in this moment, at least, he can't imagine why he had ever felt hesitation, or some inclination towards denying him; how could he ever refuse some additional means of tying Mettaton to himself, unnecessary as it would be?
They... belonged together. Emet-Selch knew that much, at least. Everything else would fall into place. They would make it so- and how could reality deny the two of them, when their desires were aligned?
The slightest pulling back of Mettaton's hips still surprised him though, and Emet-Selch couldn't decide how he felt about it. Having his lover's thickness buried to the root was good- more than that, it was right, that he could hold him that way, no matter how sore he became. But he was reminded as well of what Mettaton's cock was blocking, that he was preventing his come from leaking free. Though with the Ascian's hips still up, he didn't think too much would manage to escape even so... but just the memory of the way it had felt, dripping uncontrollably from his body while his lover could watch it was- shiver inducing. Tension encouraging.
Enough that it does disrupt that kiss a little (if sucking on Mettaton's lower lip could count as a disruption, or nuzzling at the corner of his mouth, or pressing damp lips over whatever place on his Bonded's face that he happened to touch; he would agree entirely that messy kissing had its own charm, its own appeal, and the result of a face smeared with saliva was hardly a drawback). His hands scratch slowly through the fur at Mettaton's back, his sides, as his body shifts slightly underneath him. Just the prospect of dripping for him was an appealing one, enough to heat him even in his exhaustion- for all that he loved the feeling of his cock just as dearly. Swallowing back a noise (that wouldn't have been much of one anyway; he winces a little regardless), he tugs at the robot's lower lip with his teeth, between intermittent swipes at it with his tongue, as though either of them needed any more saliva anywhere.]
no subject
Of course, considering their bodies as a whole, Mettaton still mounting the Ascian, cock stuffed inside him, blood and come smeared between them, saliva also in any number of places... intimacy would've been a more likely assumption than not. But not a given, he thought; it would've been possible for something like this to be primarily carnal alone- though it was hard for him to imagine ever divorcing it entirely from its emotional aspect, not with them, not after all they'd spoken of and done together. This degree of comfort and shared passions would never have been possible had they not fallen as far as they had for each other. So much of the pleasure was due to their mutual trust, respect, affection....
Even from their first encounters, Emet-Selch knew emotion had played a certain important role. That from the start they had been interested in one another, curious- a mutual investment that had grown over time. And that Mettaton could be so unalarmed by it, could approach these feelings so steadily as though there was nothing to be afraid of in falling in love, no reason to hold back or deny- it was something the Ascian still didn't understand but was grateful for. If Mettaton hadn't, then- he doubted he ever would've acknowledged a thing.
The way they kissed each other now, though- it would be impossible to mistake it as anything but the actions of two people fiercely in love with one another. The intimacy had become intrinsic, and this meeting of lips and tongue was the clearest sign of it, even more than that of anywhere else their bodies met and merged. And for the moment it was tempered passion, though not spent- something that had been fed once more, yet still possessing of the capacity to be stoked once again. That it could still rise and consume them, and that they would do nothing but welcome being burned.
Emet-Selch knew this, and in some distant, uninvolved way, also had an idea of the likely condition of his body- but his kiss becomes no less invested, with no degree of hesitancy in the potential of encouraging Mettaton's continued arousal towards him. Even if his body faltered, it was fine- his lover's occasional suck upon his tongue only assured him he was fine, somehow. The hand in his hair, claws so gentle across his skin... he felt so secure with every touch, and that bit more renewed in his devotion to him. It wasn't even a question of failing to not encourage him; the Ascian wanted him still, from claws to cock, and would be satisfied with his company alone. He even thinks again about marrying him, and in this moment, at least, he can't imagine why he had ever felt hesitation, or some inclination towards denying him; how could he ever refuse some additional means of tying Mettaton to himself, unnecessary as it would be?
They... belonged together. Emet-Selch knew that much, at least. Everything else would fall into place. They would make it so- and how could reality deny the two of them, when their desires were aligned?
The slightest pulling back of Mettaton's hips still surprised him though, and Emet-Selch couldn't decide how he felt about it. Having his lover's thickness buried to the root was good- more than that, it was right, that he could hold him that way, no matter how sore he became. But he was reminded as well of what Mettaton's cock was blocking, that he was preventing his come from leaking free. Though with the Ascian's hips still up, he didn't think too much would manage to escape even so... but just the memory of the way it had felt, dripping uncontrollably from his body while his lover could watch it was- shiver inducing. Tension encouraging.
Enough that it does disrupt that kiss a little (if sucking on Mettaton's lower lip could count as a disruption, or nuzzling at the corner of his mouth, or pressing damp lips over whatever place on his Bonded's face that he happened to touch; he would agree entirely that messy kissing had its own charm, its own appeal, and the result of a face smeared with saliva was hardly a drawback). His hands scratch slowly through the fur at Mettaton's back, his sides, as his body shifts slightly underneath him. Just the prospect of dripping for him was an appealing one, enough to heat him even in his exhaustion- for all that he loved the feeling of his cock just as dearly. Swallowing back a noise (that wouldn't have been much of one anyway; he winces a little regardless), he tugs at the robot's lower lip with his teeth, between intermittent swipes at it with his tongue, as though either of them needed any more saliva anywhere.]