[Mettaton would argue that he could change the design of his feet. His shoes were removable- but they really just came off, the full thing. ...The ability to take off a shoe was leaps and bounds easier, though, because shoes were made for all kinds of people. His? They had to be custom-built. Inconvenient.
If he hadn't been aroused before, Mettaton knew that the intensity with which he stared between the robot's thighs would've been enough provocation on its own to get him there. Any pretense of respectability is shed, the vague nature of Emet-Selch's request granting Mettaton a cock, all right- and the necessary features to continue concealing it, as the achingly hot, pink tip of himself suggests one very interesting feature. His pants were not unlike a bag of holding, except for heavy cocks, aching with arousal.
...A blessed inclusion, he'd consider later, even if right at this very moment he wanted to be bulging, to be tenting his pants and showing his want. No, he would continue to masquerade as a sexless robot, all while concealing a very prominent secret.
The sight of Emet-Selch's eyes gracefully slipping shut could be enough provocation on its own to lunge for him, though Mettaton's knees feel like jelly for the moment, overwhelmed at the feeling of himself with such a heady, deep ache, and the evident overcome on Emet-Selch's features. The sound of his moan- god Mettaton had longed for that sound, and to be responsible for it without even touching him. He feels agonizingly hard, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
(That he would privately suffer any erections sported at inconvenient times... Mettaton scratches that. It would be proper and decent, but he wouldn't be the only one to know. He would need to tell Emet-Selch- who he knew would be waiting impatiently for the grand review, only so he could agitate him in the meantime. A shuddered breath on Mettaton's part slips into a sweet, airy moan, thighs pressed together at the thought.)
The robot's hands press over his own thighs, as though threadbare will alone keeps him from grappling his own erection and stroking himself for show. But as soon as Emet-Selch reaches for him, the robot lifts his hands, granting Emet-Selch instead that plane of touch- and the spark he feels upon contact with his thigh is enough to make him moan, knees nearly buckling. And somehow, the unconscious knowledge exists that Emet-Selch is undoubtedly hard- and he wanted him, he wanted him, he wanted to feel him touch him all over, and to touch his body in return.
Mettaton nods fiercely, slipping his thumb into the waistband of his new... pants. He can't help himself as he adjusts the tight latex, slipping lower down his shaft before letting it rest. Fabric crowds his cock, pinning it tight against his body in a way that was agonizing but relieving at once: agonizing to feel it so tight and aching, and relieving to ache at all, like this.]
I do think that, [He breathes, trying to shift his posture. The height of his heels makes the shifting of his weight very difficult, though feeling this electrified has Mettaton stilled, wavering, fingers digging into his thigh on one side and reaching for Emet-Selch with the other. He twines his digits in with the ample fabric of his robe, for steadiness and to keep a grip on him at all, as he attempts to lure the smaller man to take him to the bedroom.]Take me to bed, beautiful. I want to feel you with... with all of this impossible clarity you've given me.
[A kindness immense. Mettaton shivers, overcome at the sight of him- aware that this was something he'd wished for, and he knew that it had far less to do with Emet-Selch's own libido, and more to do with his own comfort. His own self-expression...
There are two compelling reasons to not stick to the couch. The awful sensation is one. (Mettaton could deal, though it would inevitably distract him in moments of clarity or calm.) The other, of course, is keeping thei love-making away from the dragon. They could leave it to its slumber, and take to the bedroom. Though Mettaton grins, leaning into Emet-Selch's touch.] I'd like to feel as much as possible... and Hades. Your warmth, against me- I want to feel that too.
no subject
If he hadn't been aroused before, Mettaton knew that the intensity with which he stared between the robot's thighs would've been enough provocation on its own to get him there. Any pretense of respectability is shed, the vague nature of Emet-Selch's request granting Mettaton a cock, all right- and the necessary features to continue concealing it, as the achingly hot, pink tip of himself suggests one very interesting feature. His pants were not unlike a bag of holding, except for heavy cocks, aching with arousal.
...A blessed inclusion, he'd consider later, even if right at this very moment he wanted to be bulging, to be tenting his pants and showing his want. No, he would continue to masquerade as a sexless robot, all while concealing a very prominent secret.
The sight of Emet-Selch's eyes gracefully slipping shut could be enough provocation on its own to lunge for him, though Mettaton's knees feel like jelly for the moment, overwhelmed at the feeling of himself with such a heady, deep ache, and the evident overcome on Emet-Selch's features. The sound of his moan- god Mettaton had longed for that sound, and to be responsible for it without even touching him. He feels agonizingly hard, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
(That he would privately suffer any erections sported at inconvenient times... Mettaton scratches that. It would be proper and decent, but he wouldn't be the only one to know. He would need to tell Emet-Selch- who he knew would be waiting impatiently for the grand review, only so he could agitate him in the meantime. A shuddered breath on Mettaton's part slips into a sweet, airy moan, thighs pressed together at the thought.)
The robot's hands press over his own thighs, as though threadbare will alone keeps him from grappling his own erection and stroking himself for show. But as soon as Emet-Selch reaches for him, the robot lifts his hands, granting Emet-Selch instead that plane of touch- and the spark he feels upon contact with his thigh is enough to make him moan, knees nearly buckling. And somehow, the unconscious knowledge exists that Emet-Selch is undoubtedly hard- and he wanted him, he wanted him, he wanted to feel him touch him all over, and to touch his body in return.
Mettaton nods fiercely, slipping his thumb into the waistband of his new... pants. He can't help himself as he adjusts the tight latex, slipping lower down his shaft before letting it rest. Fabric crowds his cock, pinning it tight against his body in a way that was agonizing but relieving at once: agonizing to feel it so tight and aching, and relieving to ache at all, like this.]
I do think that, [He breathes, trying to shift his posture. The height of his heels makes the shifting of his weight very difficult, though feeling this electrified has Mettaton stilled, wavering, fingers digging into his thigh on one side and reaching for Emet-Selch with the other. He twines his digits in with the ample fabric of his robe, for steadiness and to keep a grip on him at all, as he attempts to lure the smaller man to take him to the bedroom.]Take me to bed, beautiful. I want to feel you with... with all of this impossible clarity you've given me.
[A kindness immense. Mettaton shivers, overcome at the sight of him- aware that this was something he'd wished for, and he knew that it had far less to do with Emet-Selch's own libido, and more to do with his own comfort. His own self-expression...
There are two compelling reasons to not stick to the couch. The awful sensation is one. (Mettaton could deal, though it would inevitably distract him in moments of clarity or calm.) The other, of course, is keeping thei love-making away from the dragon. They could leave it to its slumber, and take to the bedroom. Though Mettaton grins, leaning into Emet-Selch's touch.] I'd like to feel as much as possible... and Hades. Your warmth, against me- I want to feel that too.