[Barely withholding a sigh from their quick kiss, he turns it into a hum instead. Mettaton's hands would be more than welcome to strip him- or do anything else to him- is what it seems to convey, for all that Emet-Selch doesn't use his words on it. Dwelling on their nearness, on what he could feel took precedence; gazing down at his lover's body as it was revealed took definite precedence.
It was a somewhat strange sight, to see Mettaton with neither heels nor the fur of a puca, for his bare legs to be truly bare with aspects new to them both. With both legs and feet revealed, it looked like the work of something deliberate, that was always meant for being viewed like this. From the cute hearts at his knees, to the work put into his ankles indicating a visible amount of flexibility, there was an attention to detail there that he approved of. Though clearly inorganic, none of it appeared unfinished, a completely tidy and attractive robotic body.
And of course, an erection, a whole package no less artificial than the rest, but with a sensitivity that spoke of something unusual going on underneath its surface. Had he developed some system of organic nerves and veins again? (Maybe it was just magic.) Were his balls for more than the aesthetic? Aroused as he was, he would still need to see whether he could come....
Gaze flitting up, expression a match for him in terms of longing, it skims downward again, across his chestplate, to the familiar glow at his waist, and lower. There was so much that deserved to be pressed to with his own body, with hands and lips and the rest of him too, which meant shedding these robes as the last things separating them, now with the robot's pants removed. But if Mettaton sought to be observed closely most of all--]
Do you think I've been looking anywhere else?
[He murmurs, a touch dry and breathless both. Being distracted from Mettaton and his body- it wasn't something that he could imagine, as he runs a hand down a bared thigh, even as his own clothed one nudges back to his in reply. Just imagining it against skin was a thrill.
But the wants of his own body readily fell to the side, and even the wish to be just as exposed to him- repeated in Mettaton's own stated desires- had to be pushed aside in favor of the robot's other demand. And the easiest way to meet it was to leave the bed entirely, if only to sink between his husband's thighs, forcing his way between them.
And with so much now on a more convenient level with his eyes, he sighs heavily, attention centered here, where he belonged. It had been months since he'd last been in a position like this, and even if it wasn't that long in the scheme of things, it felt like an eternity.]
Is this... close enough for you? Or.... [From his breath gracing him, he presses his cheek to the side of the robot's shaft, nuzzling into him, while a hand steadies him on the other side of his girth.] Did you have something else in mind?
[...This close, Emet-Selch does notice certain seams that implied something about how Mettaton's cock was attached- and perhaps some degree of removability? Not that he could imagine ever wanting to, unless it broke from overuse and needed taken off to be serviced in the less sexual sense. But the logistics are less important to him now in comparison to the existence of a cock at all, as he leans in enough to press his lips firmly to his root.]
no subject
It was a somewhat strange sight, to see Mettaton with neither heels nor the fur of a puca, for his bare legs to be truly bare with aspects new to them both. With both legs and feet revealed, it looked like the work of something deliberate, that was always meant for being viewed like this. From the cute hearts at his knees, to the work put into his ankles indicating a visible amount of flexibility, there was an attention to detail there that he approved of. Though clearly inorganic, none of it appeared unfinished, a completely tidy and attractive robotic body.
And of course, an erection, a whole package no less artificial than the rest, but with a sensitivity that spoke of something unusual going on underneath its surface. Had he developed some system of organic nerves and veins again? (Maybe it was just magic.) Were his balls for more than the aesthetic? Aroused as he was, he would still need to see whether he could come....
Gaze flitting up, expression a match for him in terms of longing, it skims downward again, across his chestplate, to the familiar glow at his waist, and lower. There was so much that deserved to be pressed to with his own body, with hands and lips and the rest of him too, which meant shedding these robes as the last things separating them, now with the robot's pants removed. But if Mettaton sought to be observed closely most of all--]
Do you think I've been looking anywhere else?
[He murmurs, a touch dry and breathless both. Being distracted from Mettaton and his body- it wasn't something that he could imagine, as he runs a hand down a bared thigh, even as his own clothed one nudges back to his in reply. Just imagining it against skin was a thrill.
But the wants of his own body readily fell to the side, and even the wish to be just as exposed to him- repeated in Mettaton's own stated desires- had to be pushed aside in favor of the robot's other demand. And the easiest way to meet it was to leave the bed entirely, if only to sink between his husband's thighs, forcing his way between them.
And with so much now on a more convenient level with his eyes, he sighs heavily, attention centered here, where he belonged. It had been months since he'd last been in a position like this, and even if it wasn't that long in the scheme of things, it felt like an eternity.]
Is this... close enough for you? Or.... [From his breath gracing him, he presses his cheek to the side of the robot's shaft, nuzzling into him, while a hand steadies him on the other side of his girth.] Did you have something else in mind?
[...This close, Emet-Selch does notice certain seams that implied something about how Mettaton's cock was attached- and perhaps some degree of removability? Not that he could imagine ever wanting to, unless it broke from overuse and needed taken off to be serviced in the less sexual sense. But the logistics are less important to him now in comparison to the existence of a cock at all, as he leans in enough to press his lips firmly to his root.]