[Part of the pleasure they drew from their combinings as of late had pivoted heavily over how Mettaton was feeling about it, with his acquired ability to sense and feel. Even if he weren't being directly touched, the threat—or more accurately, the treat—of it loomed, as they knew that if he had Emet-Selch bound to his whims, set before him for touch and enjoyment... Even if he were the one groping and handling the mage, the monster would have his own display of arousal to show for it. He would press his cock against the smaller of the two, and they'd feel sparks fly as they enjoyed the heavy presence that needed tending. Emet-Selch had often put his own arousal in as an afterthought in comparison—and that was something fine by them.
It hurt, to feel his lover's interest faded. That his body failed at something, and there was no peacocking he could do to make up for that sheer lack. But Mettaton still felt himself worth arousal, for all he is, and his frustration exists alongside desire. Even without the anatomy of it, Mettaton desires Emet-Selch, after it all. He truly wanted his intimacy, his control, his love and his vulnerability. He wanted everything Emet-Selch was, and wanted Emet-Selch to treat him to the same deliberation he ever had.
Emet-Selch's words do reach Mettaton. He smiles; he presses his lips to his shoulder, and gives him a gentle nuzzle. He could tell that those simple words conveyed more than met the eye, a desire to hold his heart and reassure him.]
We will. ...Thank you.
[Earnestly, he speaks, soft and low. He even feels tension drain from him just through his own gratitude expressed—and in reflecting over his own warmth, it takes him off-guard as he feels Emet-Selch push back, his thighs pushing against Mettaton's as he spreads his legs encouragingly.
Mettaton exhales, eager and focused. He can't help himself as he presses ever tighter to Emet-Selch's body, winding arms squeezing his victim in his excitement for the presentation of Emet-Selch's body. His fingers drift low, claws a gentle scratch as he charts a path lower upon request.]
Hades...
[It's awe and want that tinges his voice, deep and tense. His ears are sprung, though they lean for the man in front of him, if at an akimbo splay. Emet-Selch's waistband remains an obstacle, his pants still there—but that doesn't stop Mettaton as he greedily makes for the front of his pants, immediately palming the prominence to be found between thighs.
Wracked with a bout of shudders, Mettaton exhales, covetous and hungry.]
Ah... You. You never fail to impress... I wouldn't have your response to me any other way.
[He couldn't help but be flattered just at the way Emet-Selch reacted to his presence, and all of the history they had behind them. Even when they'd first taken to intimacy, even when they stood together in a kissing booth... he remembers the grief in parting then, and how he just knew Emet-Selch was aroused. Any time he knew, it never failed to spark delight and desire in him. Fingers dance along the firm line trapped under fabric, rolling in a gentle pinch over the fullness of the tip.]
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It hurt, to feel his lover's interest faded. That his body failed at something, and there was no peacocking he could do to make up for that sheer lack. But Mettaton still felt himself worth arousal, for all he is, and his frustration exists alongside desire. Even without the anatomy of it, Mettaton desires Emet-Selch, after it all. He truly wanted his intimacy, his control, his love and his vulnerability. He wanted everything Emet-Selch was, and wanted Emet-Selch to treat him to the same deliberation he ever had.
Emet-Selch's words do reach Mettaton. He smiles; he presses his lips to his shoulder, and gives him a gentle nuzzle. He could tell that those simple words conveyed more than met the eye, a desire to hold his heart and reassure him.]
We will. ...Thank you.
[Earnestly, he speaks, soft and low. He even feels tension drain from him just through his own gratitude expressed—and in reflecting over his own warmth, it takes him off-guard as he feels Emet-Selch push back, his thighs pushing against Mettaton's as he spreads his legs encouragingly.
Mettaton exhales, eager and focused. He can't help himself as he presses ever tighter to Emet-Selch's body, winding arms squeezing his victim in his excitement for the presentation of Emet-Selch's body. His fingers drift low, claws a gentle scratch as he charts a path lower upon request.]
Hades...
[It's awe and want that tinges his voice, deep and tense. His ears are sprung, though they lean for the man in front of him, if at an akimbo splay. Emet-Selch's waistband remains an obstacle, his pants still there—but that doesn't stop Mettaton as he greedily makes for the front of his pants, immediately palming the prominence to be found between thighs.
Wracked with a bout of shudders, Mettaton exhales, covetous and hungry.]
Ah... You. You never fail to impress... I wouldn't have your response to me any other way.
[He couldn't help but be flattered just at the way Emet-Selch reacted to his presence, and all of the history they had behind them. Even when they'd first taken to intimacy, even when they stood together in a kissing booth... he remembers the grief in parting then, and how he just knew Emet-Selch was aroused. Any time he knew, it never failed to spark delight and desire in him. Fingers dance along the firm line trapped under fabric, rolling in a gentle pinch over the fullness of the tip.]