glitzandglamour: (💣099)
Mettaton EX ([personal profile] glitzandglamour) wrote in [personal profile] unsundered 2020-02-27 09:13 pm (UTC)

[Mettaton's eye widens again at the reaction to his touch, any words lodged behind a mental block. That does it, and he's ready to pounce; the ardor in his gaze suggests this well enough. He hears static, grounded only when Emet-Selch reaches for his face with such affection that it would surprise Mettaton to know that he didn't see it as such. His ears pull back at the feelings of desire and adoration overcoming him, relaxed, finding comfort in it, of all things. It tempers his blinded need into something he can wield with more intent, and perhaps it's for the better. It's potent, the combination of lust and infatuation.

He expects that there will be more after this, without a doubt. Tonight won't be enough. This already exceeds his expectations — perhaps not in the way that he always imagined intimacy would play out, but in its own way. Nobody he kissed and held would be Emet-Selch. He smiles playfully, quirking a brow at the Ascian's final remark.]


I'll... [Turns out he wasn't ready to speak, after all. He swallows.] Take that into... Consideration. I aim to please.

[He stares again at all of Emet-Selch, the slightest rise of his shoulders as he's taken aback at the sight of the man sprawled out before him. He decides that he can't let another second go by where he's not against him somehow, and his indecision is fleeting: he can have everything he wants and more, even if it's not all right now. Even if he wants all of him, every last bit of his composure, his body, and his soul. Already Mettaton's predisposed to thinking of him in such terms, knowing what he knows about Emet-Selch. (His mind revisits an two old considerations never clarified: how much of this body is as is, and what did Emet-Selch do to it to make it his, if anything? And... his name. What is his favored?)

That feverish intent doesn't leave even as his eyelid curtains, focusing with passion as he stoops forward. He licks his lips, his hands wandering to Emet-Selch's waist and taking hold of him firmly. The robot catches the head of his cock between his lips, his tongue stroking him from the underside, along the tip, and to the top in one fluid but deliberate motion. He keeps him between his lips, letting his tongue linger as he emits a noise of pleasant satisfaction at what he feels, tactile and temperature. He relishes it: Emet-Selch is warm, softer than he imagined, and he sucks at the tip before releasing him to let his tongue press against him sloppily. His attention's split between what's before his face and Emet-Selch's response.]

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