[An answer to coax a hum from Mettaton's throat as he pulls back again, getting a look at his lover, envisioning him as he was for... who knows how long. Legs spread, always riding Mettaton's hips in one regard or another, always permitting the Puca to pleasure himself on his body... A hum that actually has him pulling a cheeky smirk, in spite of the heaviness of their recent threat. Or, more aptly, of Mettaton's recent threat toward Emet-Selch. Or perhaps their mutual threat toward Emet-Selch's continued life, and Mettaton's conscience. It was a complicated combination.]
I can hardly imagine it! Being so sore... [And the way he says it implies he wishes he could imagine it... Mettaton.] I'll give you options, then. How about that?
[Before providing his options, Mettaton readjusts his arms. He releases Emet-Selch from his tight embrace with one hand, shifting his thighs so he's not trapping him on the floor between them as he worms his hand beneath the other man's knees. With relative ease, Mettaton braces his arm against Emet-Selch's back as he lifts him from the floor — a bridal carry, despite the fact that they're unmarried, it was fine. It's a quick maneuver, one intended to carry Emet-Selch to the bed, where Mettaton deliberately places him somewhere less... messy.
The covers would all have to be changed, eventually. They had been plentiful in their endeavors, liquids of all kinds merely a byproduct to pleasure. Mettaton stares at it all, before realizing that he'd settled Emet-Selch close to the two pendants. He stares at them, too.
His fur's darkened completely again, spreading as prolifically as the fluids they've left in their wake. He's not feral still: he remains perfectly even-tempered, his mood by Bond stable as he gently lowers Emet-Selch back to recline on the mess of pillows he always keeps on his bed. His hands remain on Emet-Selch's skin, claws as present as fingertips as he pets gently over his thigh, on his shoulder, redirecting his gaze back to Emet-Selch's. He remains touching him, standing at the edge of the bed before he sidles upon its surface on his hip, pressing his thigh along his lover's side as his hands drift to lace with Emet-Selch's fingers. ...Unable to restrain himself, he leans in to press another kiss to Emet-Selch's lips.
His desires mount all over again, undeniable urges clouding his head to... once more, bed his lover. An exhalation of heat, a tightening of fingers laced with his. Carnal, primal, he's sure that if he were shapeshifted still, if he had the body for it, Emet-Selch would just watch him get interested in him all over again — exasperating really, considering their most recent engagement and the dangers it posed them. That his body would continue to keep him interested had a lot to do with the way the moons influenced him, particularly while around Emet-Selch. He was fully aware, fully conscious of these desires and fully in control of them, even when his body had desires of their own, and he gives the pendants a pointed look again as he draws back, eyelids dropping a degree.
Not that he needed pendants or moons to agitate his high libido. He wouldn't describe himself as easily distracted by sex, but he was certainly easy to arouse, even if he could think around it all. Emet-Selch was his kryptonite.
Then he fixes his attention back on Emet-Selch's gaze, ears rising enough to properly lean forward toward his Bonded.]
I could help you shower. Or... If you'd like to recover first, we can stay here together. How about it?
[Emet-Selch would be creative enough to express his preference even without the use of his throat, Mettaton knew. He could mouth it, make a face, move his body... And Mettaton would know. But he takes a moment to unhand Emet-Selch, grabs one of the two pendants (just one!), and... throws it across the room.
Luckily, it is a fairly spacious room. Immediately, any pressure he felt begins to diminish as the sisters are once more separated. It wasn't intolerable by any stretch of the word, especially while he lacked the diamonds around his neck (diamonds he'd clean off the floor... later, unless Papyrus found them first and got confused (MTT was sure he'd tidy them up and understand that diamonds are Mettaton's, he still wants them)), but it was still less precarious like this. Any of the more wild inclinations he might have during the pull of the moons, such as the desire to run, to play tricks, to get petty revenge... They'd diminish like this. He didn't need the draw of the moons to be attracted to his Bonded, nor to give into whimsy. He could do that on his own.
That taken care of, he joins their hands again. The change back would be gradual, but he's sure to lean closer to Emet-Selch, to make it easy for him to be kissed, even if Emet-Selch would have to work for it like this.]
You're getting a shower, no matter what. But we could wait. [Even though Mettaton would towel him off at least of the worst of it.]
no subject
I can hardly imagine it! Being so sore... [And the way he says it implies he wishes he could imagine it... Mettaton.] I'll give you options, then. How about that?
[Before providing his options, Mettaton readjusts his arms. He releases Emet-Selch from his tight embrace with one hand, shifting his thighs so he's not trapping him on the floor between them as he worms his hand beneath the other man's knees. With relative ease, Mettaton braces his arm against Emet-Selch's back as he lifts him from the floor — a bridal carry, despite the fact that they're unmarried, it was fine. It's a quick maneuver, one intended to carry Emet-Selch to the bed, where Mettaton deliberately places him somewhere less... messy.
The covers would all have to be changed, eventually. They had been plentiful in their endeavors, liquids of all kinds merely a byproduct to pleasure. Mettaton stares at it all, before realizing that he'd settled Emet-Selch close to the two pendants. He stares at them, too.
His fur's darkened completely again, spreading as prolifically as the fluids they've left in their wake. He's not feral still: he remains perfectly even-tempered, his mood by Bond stable as he gently lowers Emet-Selch back to recline on the mess of pillows he always keeps on his bed. His hands remain on Emet-Selch's skin, claws as present as fingertips as he pets gently over his thigh, on his shoulder, redirecting his gaze back to Emet-Selch's. He remains touching him, standing at the edge of the bed before he sidles upon its surface on his hip, pressing his thigh along his lover's side as his hands drift to lace with Emet-Selch's fingers. ...Unable to restrain himself, he leans in to press another kiss to Emet-Selch's lips.
His desires mount all over again, undeniable urges clouding his head to... once more, bed his lover. An exhalation of heat, a tightening of fingers laced with his. Carnal, primal, he's sure that if he were shapeshifted still, if he had the body for it, Emet-Selch would just watch him get interested in him all over again — exasperating really, considering their most recent engagement and the dangers it posed them. That his body would continue to keep him interested had a lot to do with the way the moons influenced him, particularly while around Emet-Selch. He was fully aware, fully conscious of these desires and fully in control of them, even when his body had desires of their own, and he gives the pendants a pointed look again as he draws back, eyelids dropping a degree.
Not that he needed pendants or moons to agitate his high libido. He wouldn't describe himself as easily distracted by sex, but he was certainly easy to arouse, even if he could think around it all. Emet-Selch was his kryptonite.
Then he fixes his attention back on Emet-Selch's gaze, ears rising enough to properly lean forward toward his Bonded.]
I could help you shower. Or... If you'd like to recover first, we can stay here together. How about it?
[Emet-Selch would be creative enough to express his preference even without the use of his throat, Mettaton knew. He could mouth it, make a face, move his body... And Mettaton would know. But he takes a moment to unhand Emet-Selch, grabs one of the two pendants (just one!), and... throws it across the room.
Luckily, it is a fairly spacious room. Immediately, any pressure he felt begins to diminish as the sisters are once more separated. It wasn't intolerable by any stretch of the word, especially while he lacked the diamonds around his neck (diamonds he'd clean off the floor... later, unless Papyrus found them first and got confused (MTT was sure he'd tidy them up and understand that diamonds are Mettaton's, he still wants them)), but it was still less precarious like this. Any of the more wild inclinations he might have during the pull of the moons, such as the desire to run, to play tricks, to get petty revenge... They'd diminish like this. He didn't need the draw of the moons to be attracted to his Bonded, nor to give into whimsy. He could do that on his own.
That taken care of, he joins their hands again. The change back would be gradual, but he's sure to lean closer to Emet-Selch, to make it easy for him to be kissed, even if Emet-Selch would have to work for it like this.]
You're getting a shower, no matter what. But we could wait. [Even though Mettaton would towel him off at least of the worst of it.]