[When he'd first touched Mettaton's branding, had he felt a corresponding jolt? Emet-Selch honestly wasn't sure; when his lover had jerked in response, he'd been startled, distracted by that. But he didn't recall any particular rush of arousal to follow it, nothing that acted as though it had a direct line to his cock. How these paired tattoos functioned was something that they would have to explore... but seeing how they both appeared to feel it when he touched his own mark now was worth remembering. A new spot sensitive to them both, and arousing while they were already wanting.
(It did not surprise him at all to see Mettaton react by seeking out more of that intensity. It was a bit endearing.)
An even greater priority and avenue for exploration was all else that was revealed as Mettaton pulled fabric down: namely, his erection. The mage's breath catches, eyes nearly slipping shut at the simple relief, of having a length too long constricted permitted to bob free in the open air between them.
Yet before he can shed the rest of his clothes completely, as they remained merely undone, and pushed down past his hips- he's dragged instead directly onto Mettaton's lap. A noise of protest, of argument, is mingled with an instinctive moan at having his legs spread around his lover's own hips. The kind of position naturally and fiercely arousing- if exasperating, both at how easily his body wanted to respond to it, and that it meant going not entirely undressed. Bracing himself with his arms immediately slipping around the robot's body, his legs do nothing but accept this position with familiar aplomb.]
Could you... not wait a moment more-- [He'll gripe about it verbally, anyway, while simultaneously shifting to make himself at home here.] You're not the only one who'll be made a mess of.
[Yet unlike their interrupted time before, there's no hint of distraction at the thought of future laundry (if anything, there was excitement over the idea of how much he might be forced to drip everywhere). His complaints were only heated because all of him was heated, as lively as the Ascian ever became. And it was impossible for him not to twitch, when the first thing his cock is nudged against is Mettaton's own, that firm, warm sensation enough to drag a groan from him. Glancing downward to the vision of their cocks brushed together only deepened the sound, as his legs tighten around the taller man's hips.
Out of breath, with their foreheads together, his own pulse felt particularly loud- though it had no hope of drowning out Mettaton's words, the picture he painted something that veered past suggestive and went right into obscene. And something he dearly wanted to see for himself- though his first attempt at a reply is stolen up by a sharp gasp, when Mettaton takes their cocks together in his hand, squeezing them both. A sound followed by a hard shudder, and a tense jerk of his hips, an attempt to thrust into his touch, needy and shameless.
A softer noise, closer to a whine, is nearly swallowed up entirely when he finds his lips met by the other man's, his own sucked upon, while his body was held safely in position. When it finally pauses, his breathing is quicker.]
If- if you want glazed, I'll- [He swallows, pushing their lips together harder in something that wasn't really a kiss, too sloppy and aggressive for that.] I'll give you everything you need.
[Already, his body seemed inclined to provide something to make that grip easier, as precome leaks from the tip of his cock, hot and slick.]
no subject
(It did not surprise him at all to see Mettaton react by seeking out more of that intensity. It was a bit endearing.)
An even greater priority and avenue for exploration was all else that was revealed as Mettaton pulled fabric down: namely, his erection. The mage's breath catches, eyes nearly slipping shut at the simple relief, of having a length too long constricted permitted to bob free in the open air between them.
Yet before he can shed the rest of his clothes completely, as they remained merely undone, and pushed down past his hips- he's dragged instead directly onto Mettaton's lap. A noise of protest, of argument, is mingled with an instinctive moan at having his legs spread around his lover's own hips. The kind of position naturally and fiercely arousing- if exasperating, both at how easily his body wanted to respond to it, and that it meant going not entirely undressed. Bracing himself with his arms immediately slipping around the robot's body, his legs do nothing but accept this position with familiar aplomb.]
Could you... not wait a moment more-- [He'll gripe about it verbally, anyway, while simultaneously shifting to make himself at home here.] You're not the only one who'll be made a mess of.
[Yet unlike their interrupted time before, there's no hint of distraction at the thought of future laundry (if anything, there was excitement over the idea of how much he might be forced to drip everywhere). His complaints were only heated because all of him was heated, as lively as the Ascian ever became. And it was impossible for him not to twitch, when the first thing his cock is nudged against is Mettaton's own, that firm, warm sensation enough to drag a groan from him. Glancing downward to the vision of their cocks brushed together only deepened the sound, as his legs tighten around the taller man's hips.
Out of breath, with their foreheads together, his own pulse felt particularly loud- though it had no hope of drowning out Mettaton's words, the picture he painted something that veered past suggestive and went right into obscene. And something he dearly wanted to see for himself- though his first attempt at a reply is stolen up by a sharp gasp, when Mettaton takes their cocks together in his hand, squeezing them both. A sound followed by a hard shudder, and a tense jerk of his hips, an attempt to thrust into his touch, needy and shameless.
A softer noise, closer to a whine, is nearly swallowed up entirely when he finds his lips met by the other man's, his own sucked upon, while his body was held safely in position. When it finally pauses, his breathing is quicker.]
If- if you want glazed, I'll- [He swallows, pushing their lips together harder in something that wasn't really a kiss, too sloppy and aggressive for that.] I'll give you everything you need.
[Already, his body seemed inclined to provide something to make that grip easier, as precome leaks from the tip of his cock, hot and slick.]