[It was notable- and unsurprising- Mettaton's lack of saliva. And with it, Emet-Selch assumed that his sense of taste went similarly unrestored. He hadn't requested it, after all, and it was further of a leap than the addition of temperature to touch. So he wasn't disappointed, for all that it would have been pleasant to have it; it was something to gain back in future, one sense after another.
Already pleasant was the press of Mettaton's tongue, dry as it was. His own mouth was enough to keep things smooth, and he offered it completely, losing himself to their kiss. Even if this much was something that they could have done countless times already on this star... it felt easier to give himself over, somehow. (Because he knew Mettaton could feel it with him?)
What was entirely new to this world was what he could grip in his hand, could stroke while indulging in the meeting of their lips. Even if it wasn't a requirement to enjoy a kiss with him- in the moment it felt like the most right thing possible, to handle his cock while breathing in the sound he made when he did.
Including the sound of his name, which hitches his breath again. The only way things could be improved further was to move even closer yet, to have more skin (and equivalent) revealed, to see what it was like when they were flush. With ever more to want, there was ever more to do....]
We'll never see the end of it, at this rate.
[And a glance down, seeing Mettaton continuing the work of removing his pants has him recall what he was meant to be doing (but how could he not become distracted, with a cock available, and in reach?). With a departing squeeze just underneath the corona, as though to tide them both over, Emet-Selch's hand returns to assist with the stripping of him. The returning of Mettaton's nudity... which was a strange thought. Rather than the default state, it was an achievable one, existing only to hide one very notable feature.
With the side-effect of restricting Mettaton's movement when only partway removed (which had its advantages, perhaps, though for now he wanted him completely bared). So he helps with the process of working his pants the rest of the way downward, though he has to sigh, gaze briefly scanning upward to the idol's face at the reminder of all he was also wearing.]
I only have so many hands, Mettaton.
[He couldn't disrobe while he was depanting a robot. Though for all that he wasn't anywhere near so tightly (or invisibly) restricted, the Ascian was increasingly aware of the requests made by his own erection. The want to be freed, to be shown off just like his husband's; the want to be stroked too, as his body noticed how close Mettaton had come to grabbing onto him through his robe, even if the mage himself was less conscious of it. There was only the rush of wanting, a shift of his thighs with the contained desire to move.]
no subject
Already pleasant was the press of Mettaton's tongue, dry as it was. His own mouth was enough to keep things smooth, and he offered it completely, losing himself to their kiss. Even if this much was something that they could have done countless times already on this star... it felt easier to give himself over, somehow. (Because he knew Mettaton could feel it with him?)
What was entirely new to this world was what he could grip in his hand, could stroke while indulging in the meeting of their lips. Even if it wasn't a requirement to enjoy a kiss with him- in the moment it felt like the most right thing possible, to handle his cock while breathing in the sound he made when he did.
Including the sound of his name, which hitches his breath again. The only way things could be improved further was to move even closer yet, to have more skin (and equivalent) revealed, to see what it was like when they were flush. With ever more to want, there was ever more to do....]
We'll never see the end of it, at this rate.
[And a glance down, seeing Mettaton continuing the work of removing his pants has him recall what he was meant to be doing (but how could he not become distracted, with a cock available, and in reach?). With a departing squeeze just underneath the corona, as though to tide them both over, Emet-Selch's hand returns to assist with the stripping of him. The returning of Mettaton's nudity... which was a strange thought. Rather than the default state, it was an achievable one, existing only to hide one very notable feature.
With the side-effect of restricting Mettaton's movement when only partway removed (which had its advantages, perhaps, though for now he wanted him completely bared). So he helps with the process of working his pants the rest of the way downward, though he has to sigh, gaze briefly scanning upward to the idol's face at the reminder of all he was also wearing.]
I only have so many hands, Mettaton.
[He couldn't disrobe while he was depanting a robot. Though for all that he wasn't anywhere near so tightly (or invisibly) restricted, the Ascian was increasingly aware of the requests made by his own erection. The want to be freed, to be shown off just like his husband's; the want to be stroked too, as his body noticed how close Mettaton had come to grabbing onto him through his robe, even if the mage himself was less conscious of it. There was only the rush of wanting, a shift of his thighs with the contained desire to move.]