I'm so glad you asked, Hades-darling. Against my better judgement, finding myself enticed toward taking the sheer length of another man into my throat, effectively silencing myself... or, fellatious.

[... ... He should not deprive the world of his voice, and yet the draw he experiences toward such activities... Mettaton is bad. He's smirking against Emet-Selch's neck, the surface of his body having grown plenty warm over the span of their time together under the covers.

A twirl of his finger to affectionately curl a lock of his hair about his finger, he continues to massage at his scalp, small of an effort as it is. He's stopped his regular amount of movements, managing to have even a tiredness about him, against all odds. The power of relying on sleep to recharge, and the energy expended over the past hour, make for actual, real sleepiness.

But being atop Emet-Selch lures him into a feeling of security — even Mettaton has found himself terrified in the middle of the nights, much like how Emet-Selch responded to him so reflexively when he showed. Same reasons, too — but it's not so bad, now that he has a Bond to subdue his mood into normal for himself. He trusts him, and yet he would protect him in turn. A possessive nuzzle, another kiss against his neck.]