[Hearing that moan on Mettaton's part has the Ascian silent for a few seconds, a bit enraptured by it, the feeling slowly settling into a deeper sort of longing. To hear more of him like that in future, to find what else he could provoke from the idol, to see that composure fail him. To bury himself in another's responses, for what brief refuge it brought him.
Each rub of his cock between the other man's thighs has Emet-Selch gasping, but never getting even remotely enough air. Even when his mouth wasn't being taken by Mettaton's, it felt as though he were slowly suffocating. From the weight of the other's body, from how every act or even word has him lose what little breath he manages to collect in some desperate noise.
The deliberate squeezing was good, but the uncontrolled twinges and shivers of muscle were better, the clear signs of Mettaton's own reactions to him- as though they weren't already obvious. The Ascian's pulse was so fast that it hurt, muscles taut and trembling from the strength of it, completely overwhelmed, as though battered by pure experience. Was their Bond bleeding together again...? Or had it ever stopped?
The touch to his hair has Emet-Selch struggling to focus on the look to the man over him, his expressions, just the sight of Mettaton, with very mixed success. His answer is softly uttered, nearly distraught, as his eyes close again.]
How could you, I... please, Mettaton, I don't--
[What he's asking for, he doesn't know.
When his climax finally comes, it almost startles him- breath ever more frantic until it stills entirely for a stretch of seconds, the sound he makes strangled and sharp and prolonged, and not fully swallowed up by their kiss. It's not as pained a sound as the first time, but that darker, near-stricken emotion still lurks in the shadows of it. Uncontrolled and no less needy- if only for company rather than relief- Emet-Selch clings to Mettaton's body even as the moment passes.]
no subject
Each rub of his cock between the other man's thighs has Emet-Selch gasping, but never getting even remotely enough air. Even when his mouth wasn't being taken by Mettaton's, it felt as though he were slowly suffocating. From the weight of the other's body, from how every act or even word has him lose what little breath he manages to collect in some desperate noise.
The deliberate squeezing was good, but the uncontrolled twinges and shivers of muscle were better, the clear signs of Mettaton's own reactions to him- as though they weren't already obvious. The Ascian's pulse was so fast that it hurt, muscles taut and trembling from the strength of it, completely overwhelmed, as though battered by pure experience. Was their Bond bleeding together again...? Or had it ever stopped?
The touch to his hair has Emet-Selch struggling to focus on the look to the man over him, his expressions, just the sight of Mettaton, with very mixed success. His answer is softly uttered, nearly distraught, as his eyes close again.]
How could you, I... please, Mettaton, I don't--
[What he's asking for, he doesn't know.
When his climax finally comes, it almost startles him- breath ever more frantic until it stills entirely for a stretch of seconds, the sound he makes strangled and sharp and prolonged, and not fully swallowed up by their kiss. It's not as pained a sound as the first time, but that darker, near-stricken emotion still lurks in the shadows of it. Uncontrolled and no less needy- if only for company rather than relief- Emet-Selch clings to Mettaton's body even as the moment passes.]