[At the mention of being hurt himself, he glances up, slightly surprised- before belatedly realizing that his tease about tearing could have equally been referring to him. Immediately, he shakes it off, giving Mettaton another small kiss to his jaw. Obviously, neither of them wanted that, but though the size of what he was handling was undoubtedly girthy and achingly rigid, it was no worse than what he'd taken from him before.
There was, presumably, some sort of max limit when it came to what Emet-Selch could take, that all the lube in the world wouldn't persuade his body to fit, but they weren't at that point. What Mettaton had been bestown matched both of their preferences, he believed... and while he would've appreciated any sort of length on his lover's part so long as it functioned, it was unavoidably true that he enjoyed being full.
And he trusted that Mettaton wouldn't tear anything himself either, of course- that his body's unusual composition would hold, no matter how aroused he grew, how much he was permitted to swell.]
You know what I like to see in you, and when you're as full as this--
[During the brief time when the robot wasn't being touched, he was nearly polite in his reaction, Emet-Selch thought. A small hint of a protest, but appreciation too, of the sight of the mage giving a stroke to his own cock in front of him- an incidental show. One short-lived when the real star was at hand, and now in his hand again, free to pump Mettaton's cock with rapt, quickening interest.
(An interest which, inevitably, encouraged his own body to react. A reaction that he felt should have been there ever since his own release, as climaxing in front of Mettaton was reason enough to be hard... but only now was he starting to catch up. If not properly erect, he wasn't soft now either, and every stroke over Mettaton's erection was a reason to fill.)
A touch out of breath, he pushes his cheek back to Mettaton's.]
Even were I entirely blind, I could see it. Your... your feelings.
[Not that either of them would want him blinded (it had never surprised him that blindfolds had never played a part in their sex), considering how effective it was on Mettaton to be seen. Seen... like this, in a form he was comfortable with, and now once more able to express himself through the medium of a hard, upright cock, swollen with fluid(?). Even when Emet-Selch looks up again to catch his eye, his expression, his hand carried on stroking him, squeezing him, a viewing through touch. Memorizing him from thick root to soft tip, a rigidity so full that his own body couldn't help but shift in place, legs spreading a degree more around him in unconscious and automatic wanting.]
I love you. [A softer murmur, his own heart aching with each beat, a heaviness that felt as if it could drown him, afflicted by something as terrible and vulnerable as love.] And I love... this. And I want to see you- I want to watch as you come.
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There was, presumably, some sort of max limit when it came to what Emet-Selch could take, that all the lube in the world wouldn't persuade his body to fit, but they weren't at that point. What Mettaton had been bestown matched both of their preferences, he believed... and while he would've appreciated any sort of length on his lover's part so long as it functioned, it was unavoidably true that he enjoyed being full.
And he trusted that Mettaton wouldn't tear anything himself either, of course- that his body's unusual composition would hold, no matter how aroused he grew, how much he was permitted to swell.]
You know what I like to see in you, and when you're as full as this--
[During the brief time when the robot wasn't being touched, he was nearly polite in his reaction, Emet-Selch thought. A small hint of a protest, but appreciation too, of the sight of the mage giving a stroke to his own cock in front of him- an incidental show. One short-lived when the real star was at hand, and now in his hand again, free to pump Mettaton's cock with rapt, quickening interest.
(An interest which, inevitably, encouraged his own body to react. A reaction that he felt should have been there ever since his own release, as climaxing in front of Mettaton was reason enough to be hard... but only now was he starting to catch up. If not properly erect, he wasn't soft now either, and every stroke over Mettaton's erection was a reason to fill.)
A touch out of breath, he pushes his cheek back to Mettaton's.]
Even were I entirely blind, I could see it. Your... your feelings.
[Not that either of them would want him blinded (it had never surprised him that blindfolds had never played a part in their sex), considering how effective it was on Mettaton to be seen. Seen... like this, in a form he was comfortable with, and now once more able to express himself through the medium of a hard, upright cock, swollen with fluid(?). Even when Emet-Selch looks up again to catch his eye, his expression, his hand carried on stroking him, squeezing him, a viewing through touch. Memorizing him from thick root to soft tip, a rigidity so full that his own body couldn't help but shift in place, legs spreading a degree more around him in unconscious and automatic wanting.]
I love you. [A softer murmur, his own heart aching with each beat, a heaviness that felt as if it could drown him, afflicted by something as terrible and vulnerable as love.] And I love... this. And I want to see you- I want to watch as you come.