I would try to. [And where Mettaton smiles, the Ascian gives a heavier sigh, as though the robot were just too much to deal with, accompanied with a long-suffering look. It remains mostly intact despite the slight flush to him. Though aroused, he wasn't particularly discomposed.] And yet, you've a talent for convincing me into your nonsense.
[Or he was weak to persistence (and Mettaton's pleasure). (Of course, he could be contrary too, or just stubborn, but he felt as though Mettaton could get him to do things more often than not.)
As the robot returns to sultry suggestion, laving the stiff length nudged against his face with attention, Emet-Selch returns to watching him- not that he'd ever truly stopped.
He mostly trusted that Mettaton would remember to not suck too hard at any part of his cock, when there was nothing to soften (or slicken) the pressure. A trace of guardedness did remain, though, due to the familiar unfamiliarity of the situation. But it was a tension that was not unlike the rest of his; an attentiveness that would've been there regardless.
And while all these kisses would've normally been enough to tease him into asking, needing something fuller, however that manifested, that sort of desperation felt far on the horizon- if he reached it at all. Partially because there was nothing to beg for.
But it was pleasant to look at, to see Mettaton with his lips on his balls, to watch the other man nearly squirm in his arousal, and he wondered if the idol was enjoying this more than he was. Which wasn't a problem, to him, though he did find it ironic. But he hums a soft noise, deliberately nudging his cock against Mettaton's face. An assent of some kind, either to Mettaton's ability to wear anything at all, or that his own taste was perfect when it came to selecting something for the robot.
The wedding rings he'd picked for him brought a sentimental ache to think of- and a comfort to remember that Mettaton had been given back one of them. A memory that went right to his cock were all the times where he saw his come on his body, whether it was against Mettaton's waist, or between thighs, or at his lips. Anywhere it smeared or dripped... was a compelling argument for its presence.]
If you would have me bare... I would have a hard time arguing against the convenience. [Anything about his condition could be visible from a glance, from bruises to arousal.] However, I would miss those times when you disrobe me, whether in full or only part.
no subject
[Or he was weak to persistence (and Mettaton's pleasure). (Of course, he could be contrary too, or just stubborn, but he felt as though Mettaton could get him to do things more often than not.)
As the robot returns to sultry suggestion, laving the stiff length nudged against his face with attention, Emet-Selch returns to watching him- not that he'd ever truly stopped.
He mostly trusted that Mettaton would remember to not suck too hard at any part of his cock, when there was nothing to soften (or slicken) the pressure. A trace of guardedness did remain, though, due to the familiar unfamiliarity of the situation. But it was a tension that was not unlike the rest of his; an attentiveness that would've been there regardless.
And while all these kisses would've normally been enough to tease him into asking, needing something fuller, however that manifested, that sort of desperation felt far on the horizon- if he reached it at all. Partially because there was nothing to beg for.
But it was pleasant to look at, to see Mettaton with his lips on his balls, to watch the other man nearly squirm in his arousal, and he wondered if the idol was enjoying this more than he was. Which wasn't a problem, to him, though he did find it ironic. But he hums a soft noise, deliberately nudging his cock against Mettaton's face. An assent of some kind, either to Mettaton's ability to wear anything at all, or that his own taste was perfect when it came to selecting something for the robot.
The wedding rings he'd picked for him brought a sentimental ache to think of- and a comfort to remember that Mettaton had been given back one of them. A memory that went right to his cock were all the times where he saw his come on his body, whether it was against Mettaton's waist, or between thighs, or at his lips. Anywhere it smeared or dripped... was a compelling argument for its presence.]
If you would have me bare... I would have a hard time arguing against the convenience. [Anything about his condition could be visible from a glance, from bruises to arousal.] However, I would miss those times when you disrobe me, whether in full or only part.