[Anticipation- and then, reward, one to quickly follow the other, as the mage's hand takes hold of his lover's cock. Strokes him encouragingly, speculatively, even though he could tell at a glance that the other man had hardened up just right for him. Filled out enough to be breathless over- the both of them, each of their exhalations heated. (Though Mettaton could beat him there for warmth too, though it fascinated him to feel it, this localized display of how hot his husband's body already was- a sure sign of arousal (as though what he was handling wasn't sign enough).) Nuzzling back affectionately, he manages a sigh at the sight presented before him.]
Mm... if you were any stiffer, I think something might tear.
[A comment paired with a tighter grip around Mettaton's base- one that he slowly lets drag upward until he's around the neck of his cock. A grip to 'test' that stiffness, that core of rigidity that he knew would be perfect to sit on, or be pushed down his throat. It wouldn't give way, with just enough softness around to be squeezable, to be comfortable to take.
All with the even softer, bulbous head, which he devotes a few moments of particular attention to, kneading it between his fingers, rubbing his thumb across the slit.]
Hard enough to be worth my time... [--No, he couldn't even pretend that it was even in question. He loved this too much, and the man whose cock he now held.] You already impress.
[That his grip was made smooth by his own semen was more arousing than it should have been, but also not unexpectedly so. Humming lowly, breathlessly, he unhands his hold on Mettaton's cock with a parting squeeze around the glans- all to take his own cock in hand. A single, slow grasp up his length has his breath catch, his body to tense- enjoyably, if sharply sensitive. But he wasn't distracted, and it's after that lone pass that he lets go of himself again, having scooped up some of the come that had dribbled there.
And with his fingers additionally slick, his hand returns to Mettaton's erection as if pulled there. Firm, but not so tight as to hurt him, he makes a satisfied noise at the slicker attribute of his grip, and the greater cloudiness to mark that improved glide. There would've been little chance of convincing him to not take advantage of the opportunity to touch him. Though he wasn't literally devouring him, his actions spoke of someone starved all the same.
Tilting his head briefly to kiss Mettaton's jaw, his gaze returns downward as if similarly pulled there, drawn to witness every pump of his fist, and to admire the thickness he had the privilege of tending to. An attractive sight between his own spread legs (his own cock ignored again now that he'd gotten what he wanted from it), the way Mettaton's kept trying to spread underneath him amused... as what could either of them do but want to be a display? And if Mettaton wanted to show himself off, he'd reward him with every bit of his attention. Whether it was his eyes on him, or his hand, or whatever part of his body that was called on, he would match it.
(The grip to his ass, though it first provokes a moan from him, is also an exasperating reminder of the fabric that remained stuck on one of his legs. Would he ever get a chance to remove it...)]
You're a vision. [He murmurs, a near-groan in his voice.] Every part of you.
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Mm... if you were any stiffer, I think something might tear.
[A comment paired with a tighter grip around Mettaton's base- one that he slowly lets drag upward until he's around the neck of his cock. A grip to 'test' that stiffness, that core of rigidity that he knew would be perfect to sit on, or be pushed down his throat. It wouldn't give way, with just enough softness around to be squeezable, to be comfortable to take.
All with the even softer, bulbous head, which he devotes a few moments of particular attention to, kneading it between his fingers, rubbing his thumb across the slit.]
Hard enough to be worth my time... [--No, he couldn't even pretend that it was even in question. He loved this too much, and the man whose cock he now held.] You already impress.
[That his grip was made smooth by his own semen was more arousing than it should have been, but also not unexpectedly so. Humming lowly, breathlessly, he unhands his hold on Mettaton's cock with a parting squeeze around the glans- all to take his own cock in hand. A single, slow grasp up his length has his breath catch, his body to tense- enjoyably, if sharply sensitive. But he wasn't distracted, and it's after that lone pass that he lets go of himself again, having scooped up some of the come that had dribbled there.
And with his fingers additionally slick, his hand returns to Mettaton's erection as if pulled there. Firm, but not so tight as to hurt him, he makes a satisfied noise at the slicker attribute of his grip, and the greater cloudiness to mark that improved glide. There would've been little chance of convincing him to not take advantage of the opportunity to touch him. Though he wasn't literally devouring him, his actions spoke of someone starved all the same.
Tilting his head briefly to kiss Mettaton's jaw, his gaze returns downward as if similarly pulled there, drawn to witness every pump of his fist, and to admire the thickness he had the privilege of tending to. An attractive sight between his own spread legs (his own cock ignored again now that he'd gotten what he wanted from it), the way Mettaton's kept trying to spread underneath him amused... as what could either of them do but want to be a display? And if Mettaton wanted to show himself off, he'd reward him with every bit of his attention. Whether it was his eyes on him, or his hand, or whatever part of his body that was called on, he would match it.
(The grip to his ass, though it first provokes a moan from him, is also an exasperating reminder of the fabric that remained stuck on one of his legs. Would he ever get a chance to remove it...)]
You're a vision. [He murmurs, a near-groan in his voice.] Every part of you.