glitzandglamour: here's a tip: 75% of all mtt fanart is vaguely horny (💣108)

[personal profile] glitzandglamour 2020-03-02 05:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[Mettaton takes that kiss like a lifeline, breath for something which doesn't breathe, Emet-Selch's energy contagious and mingling with his own insatiable appetite. Hearing his voice alone, deep and wanting, causes Mettaton to shiver.

His raw desires shared with Emet-Selch, the ones he can't possibly fulfill, Mettaton reminds himself that there's much else he could do to please and be pleased in turn. That Emet-Selch should want him with such fervor, reciprocating his need for more, it's dizzying. Whether that's having him inside of him or vice versa, it's all enough to make Mettaton forget how to kiss for a moment. As soon as he regains his wit, the Monster only deepens that kiss eagerly.

Mettaton wanted to drown in this experience, and he comes about as close as limitations allow, he supposes. Demonstrated his desperation for it, anyway. Isn't that why he'd hoped for something that could bypass the limitations of his body? It's clear that he'd benefit greatly from such adjustments, if only it were possible. He'd do it simply to gratify himself, to feel the Ascian sit atop his length and sink into him, to take him for himself... and more.

A lot of desire and imagining happening right here, as he runs through appealing mental images: Emet-Selch's lips closed around his arousal, pushed in deep enough to edge dangerously with the back of his throat. Another approach to seeing the Ascian rendered breathless, and he craves that in this moment, humming against Emet-Selch's lips. The Puca's made to withdraw his hand for a moment just to wipe away at errant drool at the corner of his lip, mid-kiss. He's a very covetous-sort; he lets his weight sink into his Bondmate. Any time he hears the other man's voice it's an invitation to give himself; it's becoming second nature to lean in when he hears him, to grow amorous and wanting just at the mere sound of it. A similar thought strikes him: how will that affect him in other situations?

The only fortune is the uptick in nerve sensitivity his inner thighs have. He presses his thighs gently into each other around Emet-Selch's cock, stuttering yet another gasp and finding it warm, thick, and firm against his touch. At the very least it provides him with a nice surprise, and he hums at what he feels, imagining the feeling of his cock deep in his throat again.

Mettaton kisses Emet-Selch religiously, making sure that he knows he's his. Where one kiss is deep and involves his tongue, another is a series of shorter ones; here and there, he kisses along his jaw, or finds fascination with the one earring he wears with his teeth.]
glitzandglamour: (💣121)

[personal profile] glitzandglamour 2020-03-03 12:40 am (UTC)(link)
[Mettaton's own gaze appears unfocused at times, clouded over with his thirst for more that worsens with each passing minute, but he has the advantageous position where he can get a good view of the Ascian beneath him — an opportunity he could hardly pass up. He's positive he'll see him in such states in the future, undone and breathless and his, but this is right now, and he wants to savor it. So for all it's unfocused, Mettaton's stare is also appraising and and intense, taking in the result of their collective passion with an easy smile. He uses his weight to his advantage, pressing into his Bonded with obvious deliberation. His intention, his stake of claim on Emet-Selch, is clear.

He can't ignore the Ascian's response to his legs; in response to his moan, Mettaton takes to his neck again, hungrily pressing his lips to his throat so that he might feel even the sounds of his moans. He sucks, kisses, continuing to mark Emet-Selch up significantly. ...Being so obvious about his possession of his Bonded wasn't his intention, but now that it's panned out, his desire for closeness clearly won over any reason that might've told him to hold back. Now it's for all to see, and what a rush that is.

He has to give it to himself, really. It's impressive to behold, and he smirks at it through his broken composure.

Close to his ear, Mettaton plants a firm kiss against his neck, humming at the sensation of Emet-Selch taking advantage of his thighs. It's feels good, and for all things that feel so sensual, it impacts him harder and harder the longer they go on. It flavors his kissing, giving him the same urgency that Emet-Selch shows him: without fail, each time Emet-Selch bites at his lip, Mettaton overtakes him with a moan of his own and catches him in a kiss deeper than before, pressing into him and adding pressure to the squeeze of his thighs around his cock, bit by bit.

When Mettaton presses down against Emet-Selch's arousal with his thighs for variation in pressure, oddly enough, there's a feeling of genuine muscle beneath the synthetic skin that grows more obvious with increasing pressure: he presses with more firmness and as he's affected by the sensation, he twitches and tenses. His legs are firm and toned thanks to his transformation into a Puca, but muscle is far more forgiving than metal. It's the only place on his body that has developed such an attribute, save perhaps the ability for his ears to move organically.

He sighs; presses his fingers into Emet-Selch's skin; deliberately exerts his weight into his body; nips at his ear again. His voice is at a slow, low rhythm, intimate and broken where he can't help but hum in satisfaction.]


You are... a sight to behold, beautiful. It... It might be enough to drive me... crazy. Just looking at you, like this.
Edited 2020-03-03 02:16 (UTC)
glitzandglamour: i just thought you should know. (💣109)

[personal profile] glitzandglamour 2020-03-03 10:50 am (UTC)(link)
[Hearing his own name on Emet-Selch's voice, especially with his break in composure, clearly affects Mettaton, who reflexively squirms with few other outlets for his delight, a soft whine in his throat. He presses, rubs his thighs together, startles himself with the sensation and twitches, before readjusting again. Everybody says his name, but it never stops him from the thrill of hearing it, especially on Emet-Selch's desperation.

His head lolls, dizzied, and he presses his forehead to Emet-Selch's temple to pull himself together.]


Ah—

[He thought he'd reached the ceiling for how overwhelmed he could be, and it disappointed him that his body would impose so many restrictions on his pleasure. He's thrilled that it could surpass that yet, and it's good enough to distract him from his earlier longing for a more conventional body. Now, he can't bring himself to focus on any one source of undeniable pleasure. It's his cock between his legs and the way that Emet-Selch tries to shift his hips to drag along his body; the sound of his Bonded's voice, low and familiar and betraying his dissolving composure; the way he looks because he really can't get enough of the Ascian; and above much else, the sound of him rapt with pleasure, moans and stutters and gasps.

The whole experience, then, is what he slips into, and Mettaton moans, loud and ended by the sound of him pressing his teeth together. As his entire body shudders, he unconsciously presses his thighs together as his muscle tenses significantly. Just as Mettaton feels he could find himself missing the feeling of having his throat full of Emet-Selch, he distinctly notes how badly he'll feel he's missing something more from between his legs, were he to pull away.

He doesn't want that; the idol gives Emet-Selch a number of deliberate squeezes between his thighs and while he has control over the pressure, he can't stop from tensing or trembling. He wants to feel Emet-Selch always; the robot presses a feverish kiss to Emet-Selch's jaw and lingers there, swallowing down another noise.

Opening his eye, seeing his Bonded's face, pulling back enough to appreciate him, and Mettaton can't help raising a hand to run his fingers through the shock of white hair. It reminds him of what he told of himself earlier, who he is beyond the body he sees, even while he appreciates its form. Drinking in his neck, his expression, and his unfocused gaze, Mettaton returns to his neck, his voice deep and playful.]


What you look like... Is only ahh— a reflection of wh-what you've done to me, Hades...

[So he deserves it. Eye for an eye. With another good squeeze of his cock between his thighs and the deliberate roll of his hips, Mettaton moves to press his lips to Emet-Selchs in one of their many impassioned kisses.]
glitzandglamour: (💣096)

[personal profile] glitzandglamour 2020-03-03 01:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[These last few moments are static, the feeling of his Bonded stronger than ever. Immediately he feels himself gripping onto him with his fingers wherever he can, desperate to... Keep him close. His own feelings shine through just as well, thoroughly overwhelmed with pleasure and affection and compassion. And, both: want, possession, and vulnerability. As he climaxes, Mettaton can only slacken somewhat, his lips touching Emet-Selch's as he exhales a soft moan, feeling sufficiently drowned by it all. Finally. His voice comes out as surprised, affected.]

Hades...!

[Needless to say, they're both inundated by each other's desire, on top of their own. That's enough to make Mettaton toss his head, squeezing his eye shut in raw pleasure and unchecked desire.

Just as Emet-Selch's response isn't so pained this time, Mettaton's not as taken aback by it, though he... feels it, intensely, more than before. Emet-Selch's need, a blur between carnal and deep desire for something he's been without. He lifts his head again from Emet-Selch's neck. It makes Mettaton hold tight still as he winds down, brings his golden eye to scan the Ascian's expression, and makes him feel so very soft. He rarely feels this way so strongly, reserved only for those so close to him that he'd die for them, so why...?

No, it's obvious, isn't it? Mettaton cares about him. Deeply. And with each moment longer they spend together, it only increases, despite their stark contrast. The idol doesn't move from atop him, but his thumb moves to trace Emet-Selch's jaw before moving to brush his fingertips against his hairline, biased toward the right.]


Hades... [His voice is soft, reemembering the quality of his Bonded's tone and what he'd said to him beforehand. He leans in to brush his lips against Emet-Selch's. He's not about to suffocate him this time — he's probably trying to breathe now.]
glitzandglamour: (💣111)

[personal profile] glitzandglamour 2020-03-03 06:34 pm (UTC)(link)
[Soft enough to break someone, really.

Vulnerability aches. Mettaton rides his own pleasure down — he has no point of climax, just a moment where he's beyond his senses, apparently, and everything from there would serve only to pull him deeper. It's the warmth of an open wound that he feels, distantly, but it is comforting. His weight will have to do in place of holding him. He knows he should pull off of him, but something keeps him there, pressed against Emet-Selch and reluctant to move.

It brings a smile to his lips at Emet-Selch's lack of control, fascinated by how wrecked he is, what such passion would do to the other man, but he makes no comment on it. Mettaton leans into his touch, raising a hand to press it gently atop Emet-Selch's like a reminder of how to be firm. Or maybe, just to show how much he appreciates the gesture, as difficult as it seems to have been for him to do it. Or maybe yet, just to be touched.

He kisses Emet-Selch again, tender and loving. In moments like these, Mettaton is transparent. How terrible, that he'd feel so strongly about Emet-Selch. But it's also delightful. Is it the lingering effects of their mingling Bond, or does he sincerely feel such ache? Or maybe this is just how it feels after having sex, or how a Bond should make one feel.

And yet, with that ache, Mettaton also feels light. Warm. Like nothing else. What a mess he's found himself in.

He gives Emet-Selch more moments yet, simply holding him and occasionally peppering his jaw, his cheek, or his neck with a kiss. Load up on that affection, because that's 100% what drives these amorous gestures.]


How are you? [Does he need to get off now?]
glitzandglamour: (💣080)

[personal profile] glitzandglamour 2020-03-03 09:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[He doesn't sound like he needs him to get off. In fact, his reply makes him smile some. He'd asked the same when he first got here, and Emet-Selch radiated such an intensely exhausted and negative aura, claiming he was just tired, alive, the usual. He wonders what had happened, to land him in such a state? He managed to feel even worse off than that. For him to say "not too bad" now is a marked improvement. At least for now. If he's given him something of a reprieve, Mettaton's pleased.

The Puca returns his kiss with a hum of satisfaction. He won't comment on it. He runs his fingers across Emet-Selch's as he removes his hand to brush it through his Bonded's bangs, letting his hand remain there this time.]


I'm... [A word can't summarize it. Captivated, satisfied, and similarly overwhelmed. He sighs.] Wonderful. From repairs to ecstasy... My. You really know how to treat me.

[It's better than he imagined, even given his anatomy, and Mettaton will convey as much with his naturally flirtatious manner. Emet-Selch is to blame for his appetite, he decides. Would anybody else have compared to this, with its depth and its intensity? He doubts it. Mettaton doesn't think he could find that anywhere.

Playfully, he eases into Emet-Selch again, even moving to press his face against one of his favorite spots on Emet-Selch's neck — that spot just below his ear, nestled against his shoulder.]


And you haven't been thoroughly crushed by my hot and heavy metal figure yet...? I'm impressed.
glitzandglamour: (💣101)

[personal profile] glitzandglamour 2020-03-04 09:22 am (UTC)(link)
[Well, that settles that, doesn't it? He's not moving off of him. He's trapped, under non-restrictive arms. How cute of him, to lean against his head like this... It doesn't escape Mettaton's notice, and he smiles against his skin, nuzzling closer.]

So by your actions, you must wish for me to remain... until we find you breathless in a completely different manner from earlier. Who am I to judge?

[This is comfortable, besides. Of course the machine would find a soft body comfortable, and of course he'd find one so when he admires their form. His ears fold back, close to his head in a demonstration of comfortable relaxation. Though he has his face against his neck, his arm still frames Emet-Selch's face so that his fingers can pet through his hair, which he does so idly, slowly, not with any particular intention.

Though he doesn't remark upon it, he's pleased to know how easily Emet-Selch takes the news of his lovebitten appearance. Somehow, it hardly surprises Mettaton. He clearly cares something of appearance, but perhaps not this... Or maybe he's just that confident. Either or is good. He knows that if it were him, he'd be proud.

He kisses his neck, far more chaste than anything else he's done this entire night. More chaste than what he's about to blurt out, anyway.]


Oh, yes. I've discovered a mood I have, where I'm not speaking, yet conscious.
glitzandglamour: (💣002)

[personal profile] glitzandglamour 2020-03-04 12:54 pm (UTC)(link)
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.]
glitzandglamour: (💣125)

[personal profile] glitzandglamour 2020-03-04 09:41 pm (UTC)(link)
[Mettaton only laughs at his remark, nuzzling him further.]

How bold... Can I truly blame you for fancying my company during such... sensual circumstances? No wonder you've found a preference.

[Oh, he knows that's not at all what Emet-Selch's getting at, but he doesn't really believe that he prefers him quiet at all. He likes talking to him, even when it agitates him, Mettaton thinks.

It takes him significantly longer to wind down, still having been in a state where he could've been riled back up, but the longer time goes on the more he relaxes, sleepy and significantly warm. He's decided he'll remain exactly where he is, whether Emet-Selch likes it or not. (Fortunately, part-way through the night he'll end up shifting half of his weight off of the Ascian, sparing him from being sore.)

The matter of his anatomy strikes him again; it's something he doesn't want to walk Aefenglom's streets like, just in case, even if he has to muster something temporary. His voice betrays his mood, slow and intimate.]


...Help me in the morning?
glitzandglamour: (💣020)

[personal profile] glitzandglamour 2020-03-05 01:15 am (UTC)(link)
Thank you, darling.

[He hasn't even fulfilled the task to thank him, but Mettaton won't leave until he does. He doesn't take no for an answer, for most anything he really wants.

As another expression of 100% affection, he kisses him softly against his neck, eye closed and fingers lazy. Mettaton's never one to hold back on doling out affection and for Emet-Selch it follows that it should be no different. And it isn't, but there's something to it, knowing that he couldn't possibly be this candid with anybody else in Aefenglom, lying like this. He's his usual self, but he's also able to indulge in all facets of his being, not just the showy ones. Maybe that means something.

It doesn't mean anything bad, he decides. He trusts him, and would trust him to be true in all matters, especially the aspects Mettaton fundamentally disagrees with him on. It's a nice feeling. He could find himself here more often.]