[('A... moment more then' is the exasperated, heated addition as Mettaton manages to strip him partially after all. Having one leg off only emphasized what he still had attached to him, but his body demonstrates no complaint as he more feasibly wraps his legs around the other man's hips. His protest was minor otherwise: a huff, and a quick bite to answer the robot's kiss.
...As there was a certain appeal to this, the visible hastiness in his partial dress speaking of their desperation. Though he'd still want his pants properly off when they had a second moment.)
What drowned out all arguments or concerns was the pleasure in taking this position again, with their bodies close and cocks together. Like this, even if they lacked lubrication, Mettaton making the most use he could over what preemptively leaked from the mage's tip, Emet-Selch would've taken any stroke he could get. No matter how dry, or the friction uncomfortable, he wanted it, the gentle squeeze along their paired lengths a tease most of all, and he nearly growls with parted lips against Mettaton's.
But it was a tease that remained effective, when paired with the extra attention to the slicker tip of his cock, to the glans rubbed and slit toyed with. Imagination was a powerful part of it too, as he could see so clearly what it would look like to release just like this, with Mettaton's hand taking possession over their erections. His hips still jerk, his breath a pant as he tries to force what friction he could get from him, to encourage some tighter grip, some rougher handling even if it hurt--
He was so close, and with Mettaton calling for his release, it was the last bit of stimulation he needed. (Had he ever failed to come when Mettaton had commanded it of him? Even Emet-Selch wasn't sure whether he was managing to obey, or whether his lover was good at picking a moment when climax was immanent regardless. In any case, it was a verbalized permission to let go- which meant he could give himself over to the moment without regret.)]
Met- Mettaton- I- ah--
[Even as he tries for speech, it's broken by a sharper cry, a tight shudder wracking his body as the first burst of semen erupts from him. Heated and slick- if not quite as heated as what Mettaton's body could produce- the Ascian makes good on the intention of leaving them both a mess. Over the hand jerking him off, over both of their cocks, or to drip down his abdomen- his release was uncontained, and let to cloud them both with it.
From gazing down blearily, watching Mettaton's hand squeeze over lengths thick, milking him of what felt like an especially productive release, his eyes close. His face burrows instead to the robot's neck, as he gasps and cries out against him, as the hard jerks of his body only gradually weaken. And with it, his climax only reluctantly ends, the final leaking of come barely notable amidst all that was now sticky between them.]
no subject
...As there was a certain appeal to this, the visible hastiness in his partial dress speaking of their desperation. Though he'd still want his pants properly off when they had a second moment.)
What drowned out all arguments or concerns was the pleasure in taking this position again, with their bodies close and cocks together. Like this, even if they lacked lubrication, Mettaton making the most use he could over what preemptively leaked from the mage's tip, Emet-Selch would've taken any stroke he could get. No matter how dry, or the friction uncomfortable, he wanted it, the gentle squeeze along their paired lengths a tease most of all, and he nearly growls with parted lips against Mettaton's.
But it was a tease that remained effective, when paired with the extra attention to the slicker tip of his cock, to the glans rubbed and slit toyed with. Imagination was a powerful part of it too, as he could see so clearly what it would look like to release just like this, with Mettaton's hand taking possession over their erections. His hips still jerk, his breath a pant as he tries to force what friction he could get from him, to encourage some tighter grip, some rougher handling even if it hurt--
He was so close, and with Mettaton calling for his release, it was the last bit of stimulation he needed. (Had he ever failed to come when Mettaton had commanded it of him? Even Emet-Selch wasn't sure whether he was managing to obey, or whether his lover was good at picking a moment when climax was immanent regardless. In any case, it was a verbalized permission to let go- which meant he could give himself over to the moment without regret.)]
Met- Mettaton- I- ah--
[Even as he tries for speech, it's broken by a sharper cry, a tight shudder wracking his body as the first burst of semen erupts from him. Heated and slick- if not quite as heated as what Mettaton's body could produce- the Ascian makes good on the intention of leaving them both a mess. Over the hand jerking him off, over both of their cocks, or to drip down his abdomen- his release was uncontained, and let to cloud them both with it.
From gazing down blearily, watching Mettaton's hand squeeze over lengths thick, milking him of what felt like an especially productive release, his eyes close. His face burrows instead to the robot's neck, as he gasps and cries out against him, as the hard jerks of his body only gradually weaken. And with it, his climax only reluctantly ends, the final leaking of come barely notable amidst all that was now sticky between them.]