[The delay in reply is entirely congenial to Emet-Selch; every reaction has him transfixed, his own body tightening in reflexive sympathy. Barely pushing back his own moan, he clings that much harder at Mettaton when he squirms, wanting to feel every motion, as closely as he could.
The sound he made, the way Mettaton cried out was particularly arresting; even the memory of it sets him shivering, a feeling encouraged further by Mettaton's own hold on him. Leaving that bitten place on his neck with a kiss that contains more than a suggestion of teeth, Emet-Selch nuzzles roughly back up to the puca's jaw, scraping sharply along the edge of it with a soft, almost eager noise. Pressing the side of his face firmly against Mettaton's, his eyes are tightly closed.
And from there he tries to think. He swallows, ignoring the lifting of his pulse, the way his breath wanted to quicken with it. His voice, when he finally manages to use it on words, is soft and deep, rumbling against the side of Mettaton's face.]
...I was taller. At least- twice so. [Amaurotines were incredibly tall.] My eyes are the same. And something- something of the same build. Structure.
[With all of the squirming and shifting, as though if they kept trying, they could eliminate all space between them whatsoever, the Ascian is not remotely surprised to feel that he's gotten hard once more. Even the realization has him shudder faintly along Mettaton's body.]
no subject
The sound he made, the way Mettaton cried out was particularly arresting; even the memory of it sets him shivering, a feeling encouraged further by Mettaton's own hold on him. Leaving that bitten place on his neck with a kiss that contains more than a suggestion of teeth, Emet-Selch nuzzles roughly back up to the puca's jaw, scraping sharply along the edge of it with a soft, almost eager noise. Pressing the side of his face firmly against Mettaton's, his eyes are tightly closed.
And from there he tries to think. He swallows, ignoring the lifting of his pulse, the way his breath wanted to quicken with it. His voice, when he finally manages to use it on words, is soft and deep, rumbling against the side of Mettaton's face.]
...I was taller. At least- twice so. [Amaurotines were incredibly tall.] My eyes are the same. And something- something of the same build. Structure.
[With all of the squirming and shifting, as though if they kept trying, they could eliminate all space between them whatsoever, the Ascian is not remotely surprised to feel that he's gotten hard once more. Even the realization has him shudder faintly along Mettaton's body.]