[Though not like the sharp pinch a vacuum pressed directly to skin, Mettaton's mouth without saliva ends up suctioning to him with a delicate flick of his tongue, with the press of his lips tight to his thighs. Spit would've made him slide, slippery against skin. But there's none of that, nor any substituting fluid, and Mettaton can just tell that he has a better hold on Emet-Selch's thigh.
Which explains why he knew to let him go- and why he's not as surprised at the resulting depth in his mark. But the sight of Emet-Selch's eye on him has Mettaton's ears lifting, the robot's interest only increasingly stoked. Emet-Selch's a splendid view, with his body flush and on display for Mettaton... but Mettaton feels sparks alight in his body at the thought of being watched from Emet-Selch's end, his every kiss and movement to be recorded by an exclusive, privileged audience.
Sight and vision was Mettaton's crutch. A part of him ached. Any time he felt the want for more, any time he felt his fingertips pressing firm into skin only to see how he was denting Emet-Selch's thigh, a press more than he thought, he can't help but ache. Had he never been granted the stronger ability for sensation, he would've never known what he was missing. Mettaton EX was his perfect body, and it failed in no ways. In itself, he could do everything save for taste, and that, he'd been content to imagine. He'd been content to imagine a lot of the things he didn't understand, and as for the senses and physicality he'd gained... it fulfilled completely, having not realized that there was more he could gain.
And then he got more. And then he found Emet-Selch; and then they dove head-first into the depths of experience and intensity, and it left Mettaton feeling for those sensations again. So he presses, and presses harder, not realizing just how hard he pressed. A once-delicate hand is delicate in movement, but every touch is firmer. He hasn't gotten used to the way he used to be after spending years as a puca.
The cock before him stood tall and swollen; Emet-Selch doesn't explicitly answer how it feels. Only one of Mettaton's ears makes any indication of his notice, swiveling in curiosity at the omission before deciding he knew already why it was being omitted. For the same reason Mettaton ached.
And the reason it's omitted, too, is because of their love. His smile gentles, and he sinks low to the mage's crotch. With a sigh, his eye's drawn to Emet-Selch's arousal before pressing his face there, burying himself against the full heat of his cock with a soft groan. Nuzzling against him, Mettaton can't bring himself to close his eye even this close up, when he enjoyed the sight of his mate's body flush to his face.]
I like it when you wear accessories provided by me.
[He's muffled by the root of Emet-Selch's cock, which he talks flush to. Burying himself deeper, his lips are pressed to his balls, pursed in a kiss and treated to a nuzzle. A hand moves along Emet-Selch's thigh to grip at his cock, steadying it enough so that he can give the full length of him kisses from beneath, applied so sloppy that he'd definitely be glistening with saliva if the idol could produce it.
Because if visuals were what they had, if Emet-selch was soaking him in with as much intensity as he did him, the robot wanted to make sure he inspired.]
And... I concede. When I am an accessory of yours, too. [He plants a firm kiss to the tip of his erection, giving him just a gentle pet with his tongue.]
no subject
Which explains why he knew to let him go- and why he's not as surprised at the resulting depth in his mark. But the sight of Emet-Selch's eye on him has Mettaton's ears lifting, the robot's interest only increasingly stoked. Emet-Selch's a splendid view, with his body flush and on display for Mettaton... but Mettaton feels sparks alight in his body at the thought of being watched from Emet-Selch's end, his every kiss and movement to be recorded by an exclusive, privileged audience.
Sight and vision was Mettaton's crutch. A part of him ached. Any time he felt the want for more, any time he felt his fingertips pressing firm into skin only to see how he was denting Emet-Selch's thigh, a press more than he thought, he can't help but ache. Had he never been granted the stronger ability for sensation, he would've never known what he was missing. Mettaton EX was his perfect body, and it failed in no ways. In itself, he could do everything save for taste, and that, he'd been content to imagine. He'd been content to imagine a lot of the things he didn't understand, and as for the senses and physicality he'd gained... it fulfilled completely, having not realized that there was more he could gain.
And then he got more. And then he found Emet-Selch; and then they dove head-first into the depths of experience and intensity, and it left Mettaton feeling for those sensations again. So he presses, and presses harder, not realizing just how hard he pressed. A once-delicate hand is delicate in movement, but every touch is firmer. He hasn't gotten used to the way he used to be after spending years as a puca.
The cock before him stood tall and swollen; Emet-Selch doesn't explicitly answer how it feels. Only one of Mettaton's ears makes any indication of his notice, swiveling in curiosity at the omission before deciding he knew already why it was being omitted. For the same reason Mettaton ached.
And the reason it's omitted, too, is because of their love. His smile gentles, and he sinks low to the mage's crotch. With a sigh, his eye's drawn to Emet-Selch's arousal before pressing his face there, burying himself against the full heat of his cock with a soft groan. Nuzzling against him, Mettaton can't bring himself to close his eye even this close up, when he enjoyed the sight of his mate's body flush to his face.]
I like it when you wear accessories provided by me.
[He's muffled by the root of Emet-Selch's cock, which he talks flush to. Burying himself deeper, his lips are pressed to his balls, pursed in a kiss and treated to a nuzzle. A hand moves along Emet-Selch's thigh to grip at his cock, steadying it enough so that he can give the full length of him kisses from beneath, applied so sloppy that he'd definitely be glistening with saliva if the idol could produce it.
Because if visuals were what they had, if Emet-selch was soaking him in with as much intensity as he did him, the robot wanted to make sure he inspired.]
And... I concede. When I am an accessory of yours, too. [He plants a firm kiss to the tip of his erection, giving him just a gentle pet with his tongue.]