[Mettaton moans louder than he's allowed himself to as of yet, and their passionate kiss only serves to dampen it so much. He can't help it when he shudders, his grip loosening then tightening and the way he squirms in Emet-Selch's arms, though not for any attempt to leave it. Conversely, he only positions himself more favorably, rubbing his thigh against him and curving further into his body.
From the feeling of his arousal against his thigh, the way he moves his hips into him, to the sound of his voice low and sensual against his lips, and especially the rake of his fingers, harsh against his back, it all sets the robot off. Though much of it is still metal, it's one of the places where tissue's grown in more prominently. The unfamiliar feeling and context of their contact blinds him with pleasure and makes his knees weak.
Even that haunting sentiment... Is he imagining it? He couldn't be. It's penetrates him in a way that few things could, makes him tender and... guilty. It only adds to the rawness of all he experiences, from pleasure to compassion: at this rate, Emet-Selch is on the track to opening him up so much that it could overwhelm him. His kiss softens, but not in any way where it becomes less passionate: it grows deeper and desirous rather than frenzied and passionate. He doesn't want to leave Emet-Selch. Right now he feels only like he'd be satisfied with his exclusive intimate company, oddly enough. Nobody else had to get this close, and he wouldn't want it any other way. He couldn't bear to tell others and expect them to understand in any way, even if Emet-Selch doesn't share his perspective.
Desperately, his fingers grip against Emet-Selch's bare skin and this time he can feel him, having deliberately not worn gloves for the first time in months. His claws, however, still haven't grown back in, but the feeling of his skin is enough. It justifies any of the tenderness in his fingertips to experience him.
For a fleeting moment, Mettaton breaks the kiss, but he doesn't draw away. If he panted it would be fake, so the only way it shows how starstruck he is is how he stutters.]
E... Emet...
[Mettaton could get used to this. This level of closeness, trying desperately to get closer, and if they could he knows they just might. He doesn't think it'll ever become tiresome, though. Mettaton's fingers wander toward his sides, his thumbs anchoring against Emet-Selch's hips.]
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From the feeling of his arousal against his thigh, the way he moves his hips into him, to the sound of his voice low and sensual against his lips, and especially the rake of his fingers, harsh against his back, it all sets the robot off. Though much of it is still metal, it's one of the places where tissue's grown in more prominently. The unfamiliar feeling and context of their contact blinds him with pleasure and makes his knees weak.
Even that haunting sentiment... Is he imagining it? He couldn't be. It's penetrates him in a way that few things could, makes him tender and... guilty. It only adds to the rawness of all he experiences, from pleasure to compassion: at this rate, Emet-Selch is on the track to opening him up so much that it could overwhelm him. His kiss softens, but not in any way where it becomes less passionate: it grows deeper and desirous rather than frenzied and passionate. He doesn't want to leave Emet-Selch. Right now he feels only like he'd be satisfied with his exclusive intimate company, oddly enough. Nobody else had to get this close, and he wouldn't want it any other way. He couldn't bear to tell others and expect them to understand in any way, even if Emet-Selch doesn't share his perspective.
Desperately, his fingers grip against Emet-Selch's bare skin and this time he can feel him, having deliberately not worn gloves for the first time in months. His claws, however, still haven't grown back in, but the feeling of his skin is enough. It justifies any of the tenderness in his fingertips to experience him.
For a fleeting moment, Mettaton breaks the kiss, but he doesn't draw away. If he panted it would be fake, so the only way it shows how starstruck he is is how he stutters.]
E... Emet...
[Mettaton could get used to this. This level of closeness, trying desperately to get closer, and if they could he knows they just might. He doesn't think it'll ever become tiresome, though. Mettaton's fingers wander toward his sides, his thumbs anchoring against Emet-Selch's hips.]