[(He will absolutely blame him, and that added huff he gives in answer to Mettaton's comment seems to indicate it. It didn't matter how thoughtful the puca had been in setting up household traps for him to fall suggestively into, it had still been disorienting and terrible. And something that he expected Mettaton to do, pucahood not to blame for what he would consider intrinsic personality defects.)
Even though Emet-Selch is paying very, very close attention to his lover's erection in rapt expectation of what seemed soon to emerge from it, the suggestive milky leak of precome is met with a groan of pleasure, rather than confusion. Mettaton's cock was also pink; though he noticed that this drip of fluid glittered, he thinks absolutely nothing of it. His heart was racing as though he were the one approaching climax, for all that he was still in the process of hardening fully. All he could tell, all that mattered was that his husband was close, and that he was desperate to guide him there.]
Come- come for me- Mettaton...!
[Though he couldn't 'command' it from his husband in the way Mettaton could and did for him, the control over the mage's climax having become some expected part of their sex- it doesn't keep him from requesting it. Pleading for it, as though the lean of his body and quickness of his breath didn't demonstrate his interest. He would have kissed him, nuzzled him in additional shows of encouragement (and because he loved him- and in moments of high passion like this, it was easiest to show affection with more complete abandon) if it wouldn't have meant looking away from between their legs. And how could he do that when Mettaton was so close, and risk missing the proper start of his climax?
Tensed, curved towards him as much as he could, Emet-Selch was focused. Taking what beaded up from the tip of the other man's cock, he adds it to what he was already using to jerk him off with. If it added a faint shimmer to Mettaton's girth, he doesn't think anything of that either, noticing more the heat that drip of come portended to the rest of his husband's release with a rush of pleasure.
Swallowing, his wrist moves with quick flicks, focusing his attention especially towards the head of Mettaton's cock, squeezing him that bit harder there. Matching Mettaton's thrusts as much as he could, drawn into his pace (even though he was the one with the hand wrapped around an erection), he scarcely blinked, lest he miss a moment of it.
Not only of what would soon be his orgasm, but all of this leading up to it, the indelible pleasure of having his husband's arousal at hand again, hard and interested, with the scent of their sex around them, and Mettaton's cries in his ears. This... intimacy, this love that felt made for them. He never wanted it to end- but then, even a climax wouldn't be an end, given how inspiring they found the experience, how readily provoked they were into more.]
no subject
Even though Emet-Selch is paying very, very close attention to his lover's erection in rapt expectation of what seemed soon to emerge from it, the suggestive milky leak of precome is met with a groan of pleasure, rather than confusion. Mettaton's cock was also pink; though he noticed that this drip of fluid glittered, he thinks absolutely nothing of it. His heart was racing as though he were the one approaching climax, for all that he was still in the process of hardening fully. All he could tell, all that mattered was that his husband was close, and that he was desperate to guide him there.]
Come- come for me- Mettaton...!
[Though he couldn't 'command' it from his husband in the way Mettaton could and did for him, the control over the mage's climax having become some expected part of their sex- it doesn't keep him from requesting it. Pleading for it, as though the lean of his body and quickness of his breath didn't demonstrate his interest. He would have kissed him, nuzzled him in additional shows of encouragement (and because he loved him- and in moments of high passion like this, it was easiest to show affection with more complete abandon) if it wouldn't have meant looking away from between their legs. And how could he do that when Mettaton was so close, and risk missing the proper start of his climax?
Tensed, curved towards him as much as he could, Emet-Selch was focused. Taking what beaded up from the tip of the other man's cock, he adds it to what he was already using to jerk him off with. If it added a faint shimmer to Mettaton's girth, he doesn't think anything of that either, noticing more the heat that drip of come portended to the rest of his husband's release with a rush of pleasure.
Swallowing, his wrist moves with quick flicks, focusing his attention especially towards the head of Mettaton's cock, squeezing him that bit harder there. Matching Mettaton's thrusts as much as he could, drawn into his pace (even though he was the one with the hand wrapped around an erection), he scarcely blinked, lest he miss a moment of it.
Not only of what would soon be his orgasm, but all of this leading up to it, the indelible pleasure of having his husband's arousal at hand again, hard and interested, with the scent of their sex around them, and Mettaton's cries in his ears. This... intimacy, this love that felt made for them. He never wanted it to end- but then, even a climax wouldn't be an end, given how inspiring they found the experience, how readily provoked they were into more.]