You'd better appreciate it. [Even while Mettaton's proceeding with a plan to be patient enough to not tear at his clothes, he's still hungrily gripping at fabric, and starved enough that he can't keep from incidental touches against bare skin, wherever he can get it.] Some day, my darling. You won't have my mercy.
[But that was for another day, and perhaps a specific kink. Mettaton knew Emet-Selch had a thing for his appetitive husband and his monstrous ways at times, and he knew that being less merciful in a great many ways would only serve to arouse the Ascian. Because it was him, and because Mettaton was indulging, which served to indulge him as well... Mettaton found it an agreeable arrangement they had, in their preferences.
Which was fed only if Mettaton could be treated at all, and starved when it couldn't, as it seems. They may have found other outlets... but given the chance and opportunity, they'd want it back, this physical intimacy.
Emet-Selch is a mumble in a sea of black, and Mettaton nearly growls with anticipation. Would that he had the claws to drag Emet-Selch with a more carnal edge, just to express himself. With drag after drag fabric departs from his body, breaking way for the flesh so warm beneath- that Mettaton dreamed of feeling in greater clarity, and that Emet-Selch urged him to dream beyond. Space for more?]
And I want you to make me see stars in all that space.
[His voice is low, and his glance over Emet-Selch's build is fleeting- fleeting enough that at first he misses the tattoo as well, despite the brightness of it at this time, in favor of meeting the smaller man in a kiss. One that he meets first with a feisty energy- but one that quickly warms into something more tender, as soon as the mage's fingertips grace his cheek. They were hopelessly capable of swinging from one energy to another, and the quick and sudden build of electricity in his system is let to course through him, to ignite his senses, as he groans into Emet-Selch's lips.
His tattoo is in its fullest effect, responding to the brand upon Emet-Selch's body and its proximity. But Mettaton still fails to notice either of them, as he welcomes Emet-Selch onto the bed- and presses his thigh against Emet-Selch's in return.
Before, of course, flirting inward, toward his crotch. A gentle nudge is all it takes for Mettaton to shudder, breaking their kiss momentarily.]
Ah... Hades... [He's so hard... Mettaton knew that, but he ached for him, both as himself and in longing for him. And to feel it for himself was a treat all its own, and Mettaton wriggles against him with excitement.] Let me relieve some of that...
[Still spoken against his lips, Mettaton's hands smooth down his sides- his warm, warm sides, his smooth skin, which he inhales shakily to feel and know- before hooking thumbs in his waistband. Fiddling with the draws of his podea again (he's grown quickly good at figuring these out, and how to unfasten it), Mettaton only manages to shift the fabric down slightly before he notices some manner of... light, out of his periphery.
Past Emet-Selch's arm, from his perspective, and down toward his hip, where the smaller man was crawling onto the bed to join him. It was that glaring stage light he'd seen on himself, and Mettaton hums, tugging away from being immediately before his lips so that he could crane around his arm. Working at fabric, he exposes more of the tattoo- before blinking widely at it, shocked at the sight- but pleased, too.]
Oh! Sweetheart, look at your hip! [Mettaton's attention is then drawn immediately to his crotch, cock still trapped beneath fabric. Trapped, but trying to make itself obvious past the skirt-like draping of his podea, especially with Mettaton pulling it taut.] --And, your...! Oh...
[... Listen. Emet-Selch is quite hard, and it was hard not to notice when the robot was busy undressing him.]
no subject
[But that was for another day, and perhaps a specific kink. Mettaton knew Emet-Selch had a thing for his appetitive husband and his monstrous ways at times, and he knew that being less merciful in a great many ways would only serve to arouse the Ascian. Because it was him, and because Mettaton was indulging, which served to indulge him as well... Mettaton found it an agreeable arrangement they had, in their preferences.
Which was fed only if Mettaton could be treated at all, and starved when it couldn't, as it seems. They may have found other outlets... but given the chance and opportunity, they'd want it back, this physical intimacy.
Emet-Selch is a mumble in a sea of black, and Mettaton nearly growls with anticipation. Would that he had the claws to drag Emet-Selch with a more carnal edge, just to express himself. With drag after drag fabric departs from his body, breaking way for the flesh so warm beneath- that Mettaton dreamed of feeling in greater clarity, and that Emet-Selch urged him to dream beyond. Space for more?]
And I want you to make me see stars in all that space.
[His voice is low, and his glance over Emet-Selch's build is fleeting- fleeting enough that at first he misses the tattoo as well, despite the brightness of it at this time, in favor of meeting the smaller man in a kiss. One that he meets first with a feisty energy- but one that quickly warms into something more tender, as soon as the mage's fingertips grace his cheek. They were hopelessly capable of swinging from one energy to another, and the quick and sudden build of electricity in his system is let to course through him, to ignite his senses, as he groans into Emet-Selch's lips.
His tattoo is in its fullest effect, responding to the brand upon Emet-Selch's body and its proximity. But Mettaton still fails to notice either of them, as he welcomes Emet-Selch onto the bed- and presses his thigh against Emet-Selch's in return.
Before, of course, flirting inward, toward his crotch. A gentle nudge is all it takes for Mettaton to shudder, breaking their kiss momentarily.]
Ah... Hades... [He's so hard... Mettaton knew that, but he ached for him, both as himself and in longing for him. And to feel it for himself was a treat all its own, and Mettaton wriggles against him with excitement.] Let me relieve some of that...
[Still spoken against his lips, Mettaton's hands smooth down his sides- his warm, warm sides, his smooth skin, which he inhales shakily to feel and know- before hooking thumbs in his waistband. Fiddling with the draws of his podea again (he's grown quickly good at figuring these out, and how to unfasten it), Mettaton only manages to shift the fabric down slightly before he notices some manner of... light, out of his periphery.
Past Emet-Selch's arm, from his perspective, and down toward his hip, where the smaller man was crawling onto the bed to join him. It was that glaring stage light he'd seen on himself, and Mettaton hums, tugging away from being immediately before his lips so that he could crane around his arm. Working at fabric, he exposes more of the tattoo- before blinking widely at it, shocked at the sight- but pleased, too.]
Oh! Sweetheart, look at your hip! [Mettaton's attention is then drawn immediately to his crotch, cock still trapped beneath fabric. Trapped, but trying to make itself obvious past the skirt-like draping of his podea, especially with Mettaton pulling it taut.] --And, your...! Oh...
[... Listen. Emet-Selch is quite hard, and it was hard not to notice when the robot was busy undressing him.]