[Hearing Emet-Selch gasping for air is dizzying. He'd been thinking about that for days after, had craved the thought of kissing him silly... And brought himself much impotent frustration over it, in fact. Though he's broken their kiss for the moment, he lets his lips linger against his while he revels in Emet-Selch's bodily reactions, from his shiver to the way he grabs at his back. His gaze is half-lidded, appropriately drunk off of proximity and the abundance of psychological stimulation enough to make the room spin.
It takes him by some surprise when Emet-Selch lets go, only to feel the Ascian's hands at his face, gentle. Mettaton tries to focus with a blink; he searches his Bondmate's expression and his unfixed gaze, when his answer's found instead in his actions. And when Emet-Selch closes in to kiss him, it yanks more affection from Mettaton's heart to be treated with so much deliberation.
He hums into it, returns it ardently, allows one of his arms to slip back around Emet-Selch's waist entirely to draw them close and tight. His other hand, however, skirts up his back, his fingers tangling in his hair and palm pressing into his neck. It demands closeness, and Mettaton once more slides his tongue between Emet-Selch's lips, tasting him and taking in his warmth with a note of pleasure. He'll scarcely give him a chance to pull away. The robot rocks his own hips, just enough to provide reciprocal friction against his thigh; the sensation's electrifying, to Mettaton.
Though at some point, he does break the kiss, but only enough to allow his partner breath. He doesn't pull away, intending only to give him a moment and nothing more.]
I'd love... more of you. [Then he captures him back up in a deep kiss, experimenting with the way this affects Emet-Selch: both his words, and the way he renders him breathless.]
no subject
It takes him by some surprise when Emet-Selch lets go, only to feel the Ascian's hands at his face, gentle. Mettaton tries to focus with a blink; he searches his Bondmate's expression and his unfixed gaze, when his answer's found instead in his actions. And when Emet-Selch closes in to kiss him, it yanks more affection from Mettaton's heart to be treated with so much deliberation.
He hums into it, returns it ardently, allows one of his arms to slip back around Emet-Selch's waist entirely to draw them close and tight. His other hand, however, skirts up his back, his fingers tangling in his hair and palm pressing into his neck. It demands closeness, and Mettaton once more slides his tongue between Emet-Selch's lips, tasting him and taking in his warmth with a note of pleasure. He'll scarcely give him a chance to pull away. The robot rocks his own hips, just enough to provide reciprocal friction against his thigh; the sensation's electrifying, to Mettaton.
Though at some point, he does break the kiss, but only enough to allow his partner breath. He doesn't pull away, intending only to give him a moment and nothing more.]
I'd love... more of you. [Then he captures him back up in a deep kiss, experimenting with the way this affects Emet-Selch: both his words, and the way he renders him breathless.]