[As soon as Emet-Selch demands it of him without words, Mettaton is amiably enticed to kiss his lips. Emet-Selch could provide plenty of saliva for the two of them on this front, as just a bit was just enough to kiss him, to drag his tongue slowly over his lower lip in consideration. A soft, low hum pairs it: how did he prefer his inspection most of all?
...His own thoughts are centered around his cock. It was hard for it to be anything but the case, as he was hard, and he felt that delicious ache that felt so familiar...
That notice felt inspiring all on its own, and Mettaton gasps, groaning against Emet-Selch's lips- and reactively jolting his hips at the feeling of him grinding into his root, pushing himself against his cock. God it struck him, then, how heavily, unrelenting it felt to be aroused; he couldn't be blamed for losing inhibition like this, for making a scene and demanding his lover's touch. Everything felt so vivid that he feels compelled to share, lips parting reluctantly from Emet-Selch's.]
I want to tell you just how I feel. And see if it compels you in any direction of curiosity... because darling. This body must be different from the way it was. And yet...
[His sigh is shuddered, a hiccup made more of static in his head than it was of any bodily impact. Mettaton moves his hand away from the back of the Ascian's skull and instead, returns to his tattooed hip, where he clutches onto him, thumb placed squarely in the dip of his hip. A perfect spot to grasp him, he thought with continued, aching arousal, feeling particularly at home with the smaller man straddling his hips.
Fundamentally, this body had to be different because he is no longer a Puca. A monster he is, but not of Aefenglom's definition of it. He is a robot; there is nothing about his body that is organic any longer, save for his very soul and the magic that is dumbed down as much as anybody's. ...And yet.]
I feel... So heavy, Hades, oh... Already, it's... so much pressure.
[His voice is higher for this confession, as he wriggles beneath Emet-Selch's weight, jerking his hips some more for continued contact. It didn't feel dissimilar from the way fluid had been able to be produced by his hybrid organic body... the way that veins had grown and travelled throughout his figure, a new coolant system that sought its relief in broad ears and in erotic release. He nuzzles Emet-Selch next, lips together with his.]
It feels like that ache that doesn't abate. Just like it... without the relief of a pulse. Hades... won't you squeeze me somehow? Maybe... your fingers, to start- ah... [Even though in reality, he wanted... anything. Everything. All of it, at some point. His lips, his throat, his ass, his grip- his body to spill upon, all of it was coveted by him, and he shifts atop the bed in expression of this.]
no subject
...His own thoughts are centered around his cock. It was hard for it to be anything but the case, as he was hard, and he felt that delicious ache that felt so familiar...
That notice felt inspiring all on its own, and Mettaton gasps, groaning against Emet-Selch's lips- and reactively jolting his hips at the feeling of him grinding into his root, pushing himself against his cock. God it struck him, then, how heavily, unrelenting it felt to be aroused; he couldn't be blamed for losing inhibition like this, for making a scene and demanding his lover's touch. Everything felt so vivid that he feels compelled to share, lips parting reluctantly from Emet-Selch's.]
I want to tell you just how I feel. And see if it compels you in any direction of curiosity... because darling. This body must be different from the way it was. And yet...
[His sigh is shuddered, a hiccup made more of static in his head than it was of any bodily impact. Mettaton moves his hand away from the back of the Ascian's skull and instead, returns to his tattooed hip, where he clutches onto him, thumb placed squarely in the dip of his hip. A perfect spot to grasp him, he thought with continued, aching arousal, feeling particularly at home with the smaller man straddling his hips.
Fundamentally, this body had to be different because he is no longer a Puca. A monster he is, but not of Aefenglom's definition of it. He is a robot; there is nothing about his body that is organic any longer, save for his very soul and the magic that is dumbed down as much as anybody's. ...And yet.]
I feel... So heavy, Hades, oh... Already, it's... so much pressure.
[His voice is higher for this confession, as he wriggles beneath Emet-Selch's weight, jerking his hips some more for continued contact. It didn't feel dissimilar from the way fluid had been able to be produced by his hybrid organic body... the way that veins had grown and travelled throughout his figure, a new coolant system that sought its relief in broad ears and in erotic release. He nuzzles Emet-Selch next, lips together with his.]
It feels like that ache that doesn't abate. Just like it... without the relief of a pulse. Hades... won't you squeeze me somehow? Maybe... your fingers, to start- ah... [Even though in reality, he wanted... anything. Everything. All of it, at some point. His lips, his throat, his ass, his grip- his body to spill upon, all of it was coveted by him, and he shifts atop the bed in expression of this.]