[This is the sight he'd been craving. The affection he feels over witnessing Emet-Selch coming undone before him is evident in the warmth of his gaze as he tips his head forward for the Ascian's fingers, allowing him greater access to grip into his hair, to his ears, whatever comes easiest. He wants to feel all of it.
Sentiment washes over him and he hums, love blending with his libidinous appetite and into a deep-seated ambition: to see just how much he'd come apart for him, how deeply he could touch him, how hard he could make him gasp.
After having the head of Emet-Selch's erection resting against the back of his tongue for just long enough, Mettaton pulls off of him. Reluctantly, he withdraws one of his hands from his abdomen and wipes up a bit of drool that falls from the corner of his mouth (for a lot of good that does him, all things considered), but he lets out a noise of satisfied interest as he beholds the stiffness of Emet-Selch's arousal. He thinks to speak: thinks to inform him that there are so many ways he'd have him, for all future intents; thinks to tell him how he delights him; thinks to tell him how he adores him; but he only manages to part his lips when he makes eye contact again, anticipation to take him palpable.
Hungrily, he grips at his length with his thumb against the underside of his shaft. He strokes him firmly, then leans into kiss him along the side, open-mouthed and messy. To accompany his kisses, his fingers drift up to squeeze just beneath the head, the length of his thumb following the curve of his arousal.
With another firm kiss placed against the very tip of his erection, Mettaton resumes what he's sure Emet-Selch will want. With his fingers entwined in MTT's hair, he'd be able to control him if he wanted... So he makes sure not to give him reason to. He presses him against his lips, allowing for him to pop through with a satisfied groan. As he pushes down over him he shivers as he feels his cock fill his mouth completely, clear to the back of his throat. The suddenness of it has him swallowing thickly by reflex, and MTT closes his eyes at the sensation of his throat tightening around his Bonded with another stifled gasp. As if he could gasp at all, given what occupies his throat. He'll begin to bob up and down over Emet-Selch, intent and completely lacking in any rhythm: when he remains with his lips around the base of his cock, it's because he's enjoying how his tongue lays against it; and when he comes up it's to otherwise run his tongue slow, over and around the head or to treat him to a good suck before pushing back over him. Could he get any more intense of a response than this? Could he take more of him?]
no subject
Sentiment washes over him and he hums, love blending with his libidinous appetite and into a deep-seated ambition: to see just how much he'd come apart for him, how deeply he could touch him, how hard he could make him gasp.
After having the head of Emet-Selch's erection resting against the back of his tongue for just long enough, Mettaton pulls off of him. Reluctantly, he withdraws one of his hands from his abdomen and wipes up a bit of drool that falls from the corner of his mouth (for a lot of good that does him, all things considered), but he lets out a noise of satisfied interest as he beholds the stiffness of Emet-Selch's arousal. He thinks to speak: thinks to inform him that there are so many ways he'd have him, for all future intents; thinks to tell him how he delights him; thinks to tell him how he adores him; but he only manages to part his lips when he makes eye contact again, anticipation to take him palpable.
Hungrily, he grips at his length with his thumb against the underside of his shaft. He strokes him firmly, then leans into kiss him along the side, open-mouthed and messy. To accompany his kisses, his fingers drift up to squeeze just beneath the head, the length of his thumb following the curve of his arousal.
With another firm kiss placed against the very tip of his erection, Mettaton resumes what he's sure Emet-Selch will want. With his fingers entwined in MTT's hair, he'd be able to control him if he wanted... So he makes sure not to give him reason to. He presses him against his lips, allowing for him to pop through with a satisfied groan. As he pushes down over him he shivers as he feels his cock fill his mouth completely, clear to the back of his throat. The suddenness of it has him swallowing thickly by reflex, and MTT closes his eyes at the sensation of his throat tightening around his Bonded with another stifled gasp. As if he could gasp at all, given what occupies his throat. He'll begin to bob up and down over Emet-Selch, intent and completely lacking in any rhythm: when he remains with his lips around the base of his cock, it's because he's enjoying how his tongue lays against it; and when he comes up it's to otherwise run his tongue slow, over and around the head or to treat him to a good suck before pushing back over him. Could he get any more intense of a response than this? Could he take more of him?]