[He loves him. Mettaton's grin turns sillier for reasons other than telling a joke, almost melting against his cock at the sight of Emet-Selch sighing in spite of his ardent flush. Even if he were capable of easily convincing his husband of his nonsense, Mettaton knew Emet-Selch could convince him of a great many things himself. ...Such as: the merit in not having a fully human body after all, against the odds, and for reasons beyond the human body's inclination to deteriorate. He felt fully, truly loved, his body part of something they adored together.
Aside from its lack of a cock, its lack of tactile input. But they were managing.
Mettaton's since stolen his own wedding ring back off of his remaining, torn limb and slipped it neatly upon the finger of the hand that cradles his cock, his left cheek with its smooth, warm paneling pressed to his shaft as he gazes up at Emet-Selch. He knew well that Emet-Selch would often be quick to ask for the fullness of him, given that it would be the end result- and so much toying around agitated Emet-Selch, who wanted the sweetness of absolute overcome, for as long as he could have it. As they are, though, all they had was something akin to foreplay: Mettaton wouldn't suck Emet-Selch off, couldn't taste his come, lacked the saliva or any sort of lubricant to make use of his mouth in any comfortable fashion, and absolutely had nothing to penetrate or penetrate with.
Even without words, this is simply fact. Mettaton had himself; he had the push of his thighs, the tension in his hips, the way he curled close to Emet-Selch and fondled his erection, and all of the desire he always had with none of the same outlets they were used to. He had Emet-Selch's body to work, and much in the way of persuasion. With a smile, he imagined that his own flush would mirror Emet-Selch if his body were capable of conveying it.]
I'm sure you can feel it... The climb of my body temperature. [The heat of it on his words, the warmth of his cheek that exceeded a human's temperature. Even if he couldn't produce heat in the same way he could as a glorified heater, he still warmed, and he still shifted with the need to expel some of that temperature.] ... I'll confess, darling. I did wake from that dream of you... and in much of my dream, you were totally naked for me, and so lovingly kissed. Convenient indeed.
[As ever, kissed = bruised. The psyche of Mettaton, which involved more than nudity and massage and costumes. Utter nonsense, but Mettaton confesses it with heat and heart, because he loved the sight of Emet-Selch like this. His dreams could mirror reality, as he made dreams come true...
But he had to agree with something, as Mettaton lets his free hand run along Emet-Selch's inner thigh. Where one presses his cock to his cheek, the other reaches for his balls, giving them a firm fondle; a finger drifts lower, his palm against his balls, as he prods close to his entrance, flirts with his body.]
I would have to agree, though. Disrobing you, like opening a present... I'd miss it too much as well. [Closing his eye, he shifts closer as he imagines the recent sight of parting his trousers, of releasing his cock to the air—and shudders, wanting, despite having him right against his cheek.] And to see you present yourself before me... It never fails to tease me, beautiful.
[He presses close to his cock, pressure against his shaft and his balls enough to communicate possession of him. Lovestruck, he gazes up at Emet-Selch, watching the flush upon his face that came of a heightened pulse, of love and arousal.]
no subject
Aside from its lack of a cock, its lack of tactile input. But they were managing.
Mettaton's since stolen his own wedding ring back off of his remaining, torn limb and slipped it neatly upon the finger of the hand that cradles his cock, his left cheek with its smooth, warm paneling pressed to his shaft as he gazes up at Emet-Selch. He knew well that Emet-Selch would often be quick to ask for the fullness of him, given that it would be the end result- and so much toying around agitated Emet-Selch, who wanted the sweetness of absolute overcome, for as long as he could have it. As they are, though, all they had was something akin to foreplay: Mettaton wouldn't suck Emet-Selch off, couldn't taste his come, lacked the saliva or any sort of lubricant to make use of his mouth in any comfortable fashion, and absolutely had nothing to penetrate or penetrate with.
Even without words, this is simply fact. Mettaton had himself; he had the push of his thighs, the tension in his hips, the way he curled close to Emet-Selch and fondled his erection, and all of the desire he always had with none of the same outlets they were used to. He had Emet-Selch's body to work, and much in the way of persuasion. With a smile, he imagined that his own flush would mirror Emet-Selch if his body were capable of conveying it.]
I'm sure you can feel it... The climb of my body temperature. [The heat of it on his words, the warmth of his cheek that exceeded a human's temperature. Even if he couldn't produce heat in the same way he could as a glorified heater, he still warmed, and he still shifted with the need to expel some of that temperature.] ... I'll confess, darling. I did wake from that dream of you... and in much of my dream, you were totally naked for me, and so lovingly kissed. Convenient indeed.
[As ever, kissed = bruised. The psyche of Mettaton, which involved more than nudity and massage and costumes. Utter nonsense, but Mettaton confesses it with heat and heart, because he loved the sight of Emet-Selch like this. His dreams could mirror reality, as he made dreams come true...
But he had to agree with something, as Mettaton lets his free hand run along Emet-Selch's inner thigh. Where one presses his cock to his cheek, the other reaches for his balls, giving them a firm fondle; a finger drifts lower, his palm against his balls, as he prods close to his entrance, flirts with his body.]
I would have to agree, though. Disrobing you, like opening a present... I'd miss it too much as well. [Closing his eye, he shifts closer as he imagines the recent sight of parting his trousers, of releasing his cock to the air—and shudders, wanting, despite having him right against his cheek.] And to see you present yourself before me... It never fails to tease me, beautiful.
[He presses close to his cock, pressure against his shaft and his balls enough to communicate possession of him. Lovestruck, he gazes up at Emet-Selch, watching the flush upon his face that came of a heightened pulse, of love and arousal.]