[Even this felt somewhat nostalgic. Rain, indoors; intimacy, exploration. Experimentation. God, what a night that had been, when they took to the sheets on a rainy evening, their hearts a lure to the other they couldn't deny. And Emet-Selch had been so eager to grip the cock Mettaton had manifested just for them, leading to certain and unending arousal for nights to come...
Even if, on that particular evening, Emet-Selch was possessed by fits of unconsciousness. It was the more unfortunate part of the time, but Mettaton regarded it fondly all the same.
The two lovers found themselves here, an island in space and time and supposedly locked in the realm of dreams. But they were together, and Mettaton couldn't be more thankful.
With a small smile, he answers Emet-Selch's gratitude with a small nod, and a bend to press another whisper of a kiss against the corner of Emet-Selch's lips. Need is barely contained, and teased in the brush of lips, as the robot sighs a push of heat.]
We've already begun. We're here. Together, you... you and I.
[Emet-Selch may be pulling away, removing his shoes (which seemed much easier than his boots ever had, these charming little shoes, simple in design), in answer to the restraint they barely possessed. But Mettaton responds to their heat all the same, a tension in his voice of eager, tight desire, the sort that would inflict leaning rabbit ears if he possessed them. Lips parted, he ogles Emet-Selch's figure in the meantime without a shred of shame. Why should he have that, when he was enjoying the sight of his husband?
Heels click upon weathered wooden floorboards in Mettaton's advance, and his fingertips graze along the bed. He'd so recently awoken here that he wondered if it would be warm where he'd been... And he felt anything but groggy. As soon as the mage has his shoes removed, Mettaton slinks onto the bed knees-first, hands reaching to slip 'round his waist in a gentle hold.]
We'll make this place our own retreat. And as I ever have... I will watch out for you, Hades-darling. [He pecks the side of Emet-Selch's head.] Just as I know you always will, me.
[There were no dangers to keep track of for now. All they had was the promise of each other's bodies, and Mettaton licks his lips as he pines for the warm figure beneath clothing that he could prod and touch. His digits slip underneath, coaxing Emet-Selch closer, with fewer articles of clothing preferred. His fingers pick at fabric near Emet-Selch's hips.
He smiles at him, sunny and warm.]
And... I'm here for you, dearest. We'll take care of our desires. One by one.
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Even if, on that particular evening, Emet-Selch was possessed by fits of unconsciousness. It was the more unfortunate part of the time, but Mettaton regarded it fondly all the same.
The two lovers found themselves here, an island in space and time and supposedly locked in the realm of dreams. But they were together, and Mettaton couldn't be more thankful.
With a small smile, he answers Emet-Selch's gratitude with a small nod, and a bend to press another whisper of a kiss against the corner of Emet-Selch's lips. Need is barely contained, and teased in the brush of lips, as the robot sighs a push of heat.]
We've already begun. We're here. Together, you... you and I.
[Emet-Selch may be pulling away, removing his shoes (which seemed much easier than his boots ever had, these charming little shoes, simple in design), in answer to the restraint they barely possessed. But Mettaton responds to their heat all the same, a tension in his voice of eager, tight desire, the sort that would inflict leaning rabbit ears if he possessed them. Lips parted, he ogles Emet-Selch's figure in the meantime without a shred of shame. Why should he have that, when he was enjoying the sight of his husband?
Heels click upon weathered wooden floorboards in Mettaton's advance, and his fingertips graze along the bed. He'd so recently awoken here that he wondered if it would be warm where he'd been... And he felt anything but groggy. As soon as the mage has his shoes removed, Mettaton slinks onto the bed knees-first, hands reaching to slip 'round his waist in a gentle hold.]
We'll make this place our own retreat. And as I ever have... I will watch out for you, Hades-darling. [He pecks the side of Emet-Selch's head.] Just as I know you always will, me.
[There were no dangers to keep track of for now. All they had was the promise of each other's bodies, and Mettaton licks his lips as he pines for the warm figure beneath clothing that he could prod and touch. His digits slip underneath, coaxing Emet-Selch closer, with fewer articles of clothing preferred. His fingers pick at fabric near Emet-Selch's hips.
He smiles at him, sunny and warm.]
And... I'm here for you, dearest. We'll take care of our desires. One by one.