[There was no damp. That was notable, for all that the contact itself was pleasant. Of course it would be, to feel soft silicone stroking against such a sensitive part of him. He liked it, though there was an edge of dissonance that went with it, as the expectation of damp heat was missing one particular component, and there would be no sheen of spit left from wherever Mettaton teased him with his mouth. The sight otherwise, though, appealed greatly, as it was more than suggestive to watch his lover with lips and tongue against his cock. It was nearly more effective than the sensation.
Visuals alone it was, but he doesn't say it. He only hums a small, breathless sound of assent, as though in full agreement, rather than some modified sense of it. The visuals were powerful, after all, from the way he knew he looked, spread out like this in aroused anticipation (rather than the enticing aftermath, where he was more of a mess, undone and panting), to Mettaton's presence between his legs. That sight itself could get him hard from nothing, the robot an undeniably attractive addition (leaning bunny ears and all).
And from the head of his cock, Mettaton graces his thigh with his lips instead, and with a pressure that causes his breath to catch, and his muscles to tighten.
Raw suction, he quickly realized, was a different sensation from what Mettaton used to inflict on him. It was something sharper, more pinching, more quickly reaching a point where he knew dark bruises would be left behind. It hurt, more than expected. Not strictly unpleasant, no- and the throb of his erection helped in appreciating the sensation for what it was- but it was different.
(To see those bruises, and feel that suction... to even feel himself prodded more firmly than usual by fingers, it all led to a certain hesitation when it came to the idea of being sucked off. Ending up with a bruised cock might be intense, but he wasn't sure he would actually like it.)
Everything about his touch seemed firmer than usual, and Emet-Selch didn't think he was imagining it. But he doesn't complain, or even mention it, assuming that this would just... be how it was, now, and if this was what Mettaton needed to do to feel him, then he would get used to it.
Gaze casting down to the deep colors that now graced his skin (with no damp sheen that usually accompanied the sight), he considers it.]
Hmm... I can see you're making up for lost time. I have been going quite undecorated.
[Which wasn't quite the same as expressing what it felt like, but the visual effect, at least, was unreservedly attractive. The full firmness of his erection seemed to indicate a continued approval.]
no subject
Visuals alone it was, but he doesn't say it. He only hums a small, breathless sound of assent, as though in full agreement, rather than some modified sense of it. The visuals were powerful, after all, from the way he knew he looked, spread out like this in aroused anticipation (rather than the enticing aftermath, where he was more of a mess, undone and panting), to Mettaton's presence between his legs. That sight itself could get him hard from nothing, the robot an undeniably attractive addition (leaning bunny ears and all).
And from the head of his cock, Mettaton graces his thigh with his lips instead, and with a pressure that causes his breath to catch, and his muscles to tighten.
Raw suction, he quickly realized, was a different sensation from what Mettaton used to inflict on him. It was something sharper, more pinching, more quickly reaching a point where he knew dark bruises would be left behind. It hurt, more than expected. Not strictly unpleasant, no- and the throb of his erection helped in appreciating the sensation for what it was- but it was different.
(To see those bruises, and feel that suction... to even feel himself prodded more firmly than usual by fingers, it all led to a certain hesitation when it came to the idea of being sucked off. Ending up with a bruised cock might be intense, but he wasn't sure he would actually like it.)
Everything about his touch seemed firmer than usual, and Emet-Selch didn't think he was imagining it. But he doesn't complain, or even mention it, assuming that this would just... be how it was, now, and if this was what Mettaton needed to do to feel him, then he would get used to it.
Gaze casting down to the deep colors that now graced his skin (with no damp sheen that usually accompanied the sight), he considers it.]
Hmm... I can see you're making up for lost time. I have been going quite undecorated.
[Which wasn't quite the same as expressing what it felt like, but the visual effect, at least, was unreservedly attractive. The full firmness of his erection seemed to indicate a continued approval.]