[(He really did not need to be a Puca to want to play tricks. He also did not need to be anything else he was to be mischievous. Yes: it's a personality defect.)
Emet-Selch's enthusiasm met his own fever, and Mettaton groans brightly, losing himself to his lover's touch with abandon. He trusted him entirely with the duty of handling his body and his pleasure when he let himself go, and the robot grips onto his hips while he lets his head loll, body jerking and seizing at the sound of Emet-Selch's request.
It's the same phrasing they use for each other, that much was true. But the fact is that they each registered the demand in different ways. Where Emet-Selch sees it as a needy plea, a way to relieve his own frantic pulse, it was to the end of Mettaton's pleasure that he lived through. And when MTT demanded orgasm out of his husband, it was a demand because he wasn't to do it without; Mettaton enjoyed exerting that control over his husband, and ravished him with adoration over his ability to obey without a hitch. To watch the satisfaction Emet-Selch found in his obedience... to exert that control over his husband, and find it ultimately pleasurable to them both—it was a mutually satisfactory exchange.
The sound of Emet-Selch's voice would cause those rabbit ears he no longer has to bounce to high attention, before succumbing to the splay of gravity, as Mettaton moans nice and loud, his voice singing out and cutting through the air. Even without those kisses he's encouraged toward release, the mage's posture indicating his interest, swirling a thumb over the head of his cock to slick him over with- with heat, utter heat that Mettaton could feel. His own heat, and the robot hiccups, overcome with the desire to share his observation.
But unable to form it into words, as he succumbs to the sensation of his lover's palm stroking over his cock in perfect time with the jolting of his thrusts. So tense and pent-up is his climax that it comes in spurts, gushing past the slit and even spattering Emet-Selch in his lean. It was more than obvious even in his release that Mettaton agreed: this was no end to their encounter, but just a point of delight in the midst of what's otherwise a session of intimacy, a deepening of their already tight-knit bond. If anything, Mettaton spills over with the exciting notion that this was a provocation of its own, as he lets go, spilling over for his husband to watch.
... As sure as anything, Mettaton leaves his seed for Emet-Selch to slick over his cock, and for it to paint his lover's fingers, his body. And while all else was the same as it's ever been, that pink silicone cock produces a sticky, pink-tinged ejaculate, completely riddled with glitter. Mettaton is a real man.
Even as his actual ejaculation comes to an end, his cock producing as much as it could for this round, the robot still thrusts into Emet-Selch's touch with a hiss, a groan, a full-bodied shudder. One hand shifts up to grasp onto Emet-Selch's waist desperately, as though continuing to secure his mate in his lap where he wanted him. But all the while he's torn between watching himself as he thrusts into Emet-Selch's grip, and on the Ascian's features, transfixed by his focus.]
no subject
Emet-Selch's enthusiasm met his own fever, and Mettaton groans brightly, losing himself to his lover's touch with abandon. He trusted him entirely with the duty of handling his body and his pleasure when he let himself go, and the robot grips onto his hips while he lets his head loll, body jerking and seizing at the sound of Emet-Selch's request.
It's the same phrasing they use for each other, that much was true. But the fact is that they each registered the demand in different ways. Where Emet-Selch sees it as a needy plea, a way to relieve his own frantic pulse, it was to the end of Mettaton's pleasure that he lived through. And when MTT demanded orgasm out of his husband, it was a demand because he wasn't to do it without; Mettaton enjoyed exerting that control over his husband, and ravished him with adoration over his ability to obey without a hitch. To watch the satisfaction Emet-Selch found in his obedience... to exert that control over his husband, and find it ultimately pleasurable to them both—it was a mutually satisfactory exchange.
The sound of Emet-Selch's voice would cause those rabbit ears he no longer has to bounce to high attention, before succumbing to the splay of gravity, as Mettaton moans nice and loud, his voice singing out and cutting through the air. Even without those kisses he's encouraged toward release, the mage's posture indicating his interest, swirling a thumb over the head of his cock to slick him over with- with heat, utter heat that Mettaton could feel. His own heat, and the robot hiccups, overcome with the desire to share his observation.
But unable to form it into words, as he succumbs to the sensation of his lover's palm stroking over his cock in perfect time with the jolting of his thrusts. So tense and pent-up is his climax that it comes in spurts, gushing past the slit and even spattering Emet-Selch in his lean. It was more than obvious even in his release that Mettaton agreed: this was no end to their encounter, but just a point of delight in the midst of what's otherwise a session of intimacy, a deepening of their already tight-knit bond. If anything, Mettaton spills over with the exciting notion that this was a provocation of its own, as he lets go, spilling over for his husband to watch.
... As sure as anything, Mettaton leaves his seed for Emet-Selch to slick over his cock, and for it to paint his lover's fingers, his body. And while all else was the same as it's ever been, that pink silicone cock produces a sticky, pink-tinged ejaculate, completely riddled with glitter. Mettaton is a real man.
Even as his actual ejaculation comes to an end, his cock producing as much as it could for this round, the robot still thrusts into Emet-Selch's touch with a hiss, a groan, a full-bodied shudder. One hand shifts up to grasp onto Emet-Selch's waist desperately, as though continuing to secure his mate in his lap where he wanted him. But all the while he's torn between watching himself as he thrusts into Emet-Selch's grip, and on the Ascian's features, transfixed by his focus.]