If you weren't inspired, I'd think you weren't paying me close enough attention.
[Smoothly arrogant, but emotionally touched all the same, he felt an appreciation for all that they did inspire in each other. Though he knew Mettaton's consideration of his body had both its practical and personal aspects, the addiction to their combining was something they'd fostered together. It was inescapable, which was its own problem.
Was it even possible to escape from past escapes? Emet-Selch didn't know, but his swift pulse and filling cock spoke of a reason to try. Though he doubted his own ability to be pulled under completely, for Mettaton to take him to a depth that could briefly sate him- he thought it likely that it would feel good, anyway. Tempering expectations, but appreciating being touched at all- he could do that much.
The robot's fingers were a convincing argument in themselves, and he shivers as the attention to his tip turns to a groping for his girth. Even through fabric, it was nicely possessive, the way Mettaton grabbed for both balls and shaft. And he responds with a soft groan, escaping with an exhale of breath. Not as warm as the robot behind him, but heated all the same, and a touch damp as an organic entity would be. For all that it was forgiving material, it was beginning to feel quite constrictive, with the way Mettaton was grasping him, with as hard as he was getting.
Or he was just eager to be touched directly. Which is why he can't complain too far, when Mettaton abandons that hold in favor of slipping to the fastenings, anticipation warming him through. The nip to his neck has him tilting his head in offering, a soft gasp preceding his reply.]
A call to remain still... you do know how to appeal to me.
[A touch wry. Even if Mettaton was also good at giving him reasons to move, for all that he ever remained not as inclined in that direction as the robot. But for the point of appraising, of attention- yes. He could remain as still as desired. How obedient he felt otherwise was yet to be decided.]
no subject
[Smoothly arrogant, but emotionally touched all the same, he felt an appreciation for all that they did inspire in each other. Though he knew Mettaton's consideration of his body had both its practical and personal aspects, the addiction to their combining was something they'd fostered together. It was inescapable, which was its own problem.
Was it even possible to escape from past escapes? Emet-Selch didn't know, but his swift pulse and filling cock spoke of a reason to try. Though he doubted his own ability to be pulled under completely, for Mettaton to take him to a depth that could briefly sate him- he thought it likely that it would feel good, anyway. Tempering expectations, but appreciating being touched at all- he could do that much.
The robot's fingers were a convincing argument in themselves, and he shivers as the attention to his tip turns to a groping for his girth. Even through fabric, it was nicely possessive, the way Mettaton grabbed for both balls and shaft. And he responds with a soft groan, escaping with an exhale of breath. Not as warm as the robot behind him, but heated all the same, and a touch damp as an organic entity would be. For all that it was forgiving material, it was beginning to feel quite constrictive, with the way Mettaton was grasping him, with as hard as he was getting.
Or he was just eager to be touched directly. Which is why he can't complain too far, when Mettaton abandons that hold in favor of slipping to the fastenings, anticipation warming him through. The nip to his neck has him tilting his head in offering, a soft gasp preceding his reply.]
A call to remain still... you do know how to appeal to me.
[A touch wry. Even if Mettaton was also good at giving him reasons to move, for all that he ever remained not as inclined in that direction as the robot. But for the point of appraising, of attention- yes. He could remain as still as desired. How obedient he felt otherwise was yet to be decided.]