[In all of the rustling Emet-Selch's bottoms were shifted- but even he notes that this is... not ideal. How could the smaller man spread his legs with both ankles in his pants?? So at least Mettaton does one thing, and nobody forgot about physics: he frees just one ankle. That's it.
He exhales, leaving Emet-Selch with as sloppy of a kiss as a robot could make.] There's- there's your moment.
[Which is the only way that Emet-Selch's able to assume his pose with ease, so readily spreading his legs that even Mettaton felt that familiar, heavy arousal, a hot coil winding in his lower body. The sensation of him nearly snuggling into place, an unconscious closeness the Ascian assumes with his legs tight around his hips just right- and now, with their cocks nestled together.
When Emet-Selch moans, Mettaton's voice is robbed from him. Attention held so closely, he listens as Emet-Selch goes from breathless groans, gasps, and even whines, while he thrusts into his touch- a glistening bead of precome a tantalizing prize to win. Mettaton licks his lips just in time for the Ascian to snap him up in a kiss, fierce as their heat. Mettaton could melt under its intensity, and he willingly bends into it, shuddering tight under the overwhelm of sensation the mage's treating him to.
With a shivering groan, Mettaton bucks his own hips, pushing his barely-softened erection against Emet-Selch's- giving him a taste of that jolting momentum, inertia built up over months of want. From kisses deep Mettaton snaps him up in another, leaving his lips with a smack of a kiss and a heated pant- as well as an affectionate nuzzle of noses.]
Give me, Hades... Ah, give me...! Come for me, dear heart, oh...
[Voice low, a hiss of a demand, Mettaton grips firm around his hip, thumbing the protrusion of bone while with his other hand, he thumbs the very tip of Emet's cock. Swirling around the soft glans, that bead of come is perfect lubrication for movement- and Mettaton gives them both an upwards, milking squeeze, a gentle pull of their cocks so as not to drag skin with the lack of lube they presently have.
For now, though, the tip of Emet-Selch's cock was offering plenty to stimulate the tip of him with, as Mettaton swirls his thumb around him, rubbing rhythmically over the ridge of the corona before returning to knead and play with the slit of him in eager wait for more. But even a flirting with his own cock- a dab of come brought to join with his own erection- has Mettaton sighing eagerly, as he feels firm weight settling low all over again.
(How his new body worked, Mettaton would have to learn and explore with time. Is there some kind of reservoir...?)
But the heat, and residual cool, of his seed- the idol closes his eye and groans,squeezing Emet-Selch closer to him, his home formed out of Mettaton's shapely legs formed around him.]
no subject
He exhales, leaving Emet-Selch with as sloppy of a kiss as a robot could make.] There's- there's your moment.
[Which is the only way that Emet-Selch's able to assume his pose with ease, so readily spreading his legs that even Mettaton felt that familiar, heavy arousal, a hot coil winding in his lower body. The sensation of him nearly snuggling into place, an unconscious closeness the Ascian assumes with his legs tight around his hips just right- and now, with their cocks nestled together.
When Emet-Selch moans, Mettaton's voice is robbed from him. Attention held so closely, he listens as Emet-Selch goes from breathless groans, gasps, and even whines, while he thrusts into his touch- a glistening bead of precome a tantalizing prize to win. Mettaton licks his lips just in time for the Ascian to snap him up in a kiss, fierce as their heat. Mettaton could melt under its intensity, and he willingly bends into it, shuddering tight under the overwhelm of sensation the mage's treating him to.
With a shivering groan, Mettaton bucks his own hips, pushing his barely-softened erection against Emet-Selch's- giving him a taste of that jolting momentum, inertia built up over months of want. From kisses deep Mettaton snaps him up in another, leaving his lips with a smack of a kiss and a heated pant- as well as an affectionate nuzzle of noses.]
Give me, Hades... Ah, give me...! Come for me, dear heart, oh...
[Voice low, a hiss of a demand, Mettaton grips firm around his hip, thumbing the protrusion of bone while with his other hand, he thumbs the very tip of Emet's cock. Swirling around the soft glans, that bead of come is perfect lubrication for movement- and Mettaton gives them both an upwards, milking squeeze, a gentle pull of their cocks so as not to drag skin with the lack of lube they presently have.
For now, though, the tip of Emet-Selch's cock was offering plenty to stimulate the tip of him with, as Mettaton swirls his thumb around him, rubbing rhythmically over the ridge of the corona before returning to knead and play with the slit of him in eager wait for more. But even a flirting with his own cock- a dab of come brought to join with his own erection- has Mettaton sighing eagerly, as he feels firm weight settling low all over again.
(How his new body worked, Mettaton would have to learn and explore with time. Is there some kind of reservoir...?)
But the heat, and residual cool, of his seed- the idol closes his eye and groans,squeezing Emet-Selch closer to him, his home formed out of Mettaton's shapely legs formed around him.]