[A deepened kiss was an answer in itself; the suck Mettaton added to the mage's lower lip was another one, the heat of his mouth continually evident. And with the extra 'gloss' added between their lips, it was a suction that was pleasurably, unashamedly erotic.
Breath caught from it, he hadn't recovered when Mettaton finally releases him, where he could feel his smile against mutually damp lips, his words delivered the same way. And he wasn't about to try and interrupt the kiss that followed, something soft and loving, his lips feeling more sensitive to him somehow. The most Emet-Selch could do to finally comment at first was a huff- one that was interrupted too as the robot suddenly had another scoop of come at his fingers, and took to spreading it over the Ascian's lips instead.
And when Mettaton drags him forward, forcing him to ride harder on the root of the robot's cock, it was hopeless to avoid a moan. Shuddering, his body jerks, his own cock rigid and aching, his erection an obvious sign of his enjoyment. And with lips parted, the taste of semen awash over them and his tongue, he couldn't quite manage to swallow back another groan.
It was an oddly attractive thought. To see, explicitly, where each of them had marked one another (and what a primitive thing to find attractive, to take pleasure in marking and being marked by their mate with something as base as semen), and how thoroughly. Even if it was true enough that Emet-Selch had no trouble remembering where each of them had climaxed, even during sessions that grew long, and obscenely plentiful, it wasn't unattractive to imagine having a visual reminder. To see glitter pooling or dripping from him, and be reminded at a glance as to who had done this. (And when it came to stains left to dry on the bed or his clothes, he would know exactly who to blame. (It would always be Mettaton. (Even if it was the mage's how else would it have gotten there, if not for Mettaton's provocation?)))
It appealed to possessiveness. And of course, when their seed gathered together- where Mettaton's would become more clouded, pale and milky, while his own would take on an unsubtle shimmer and hint of pink... he already knew he would love that. He loved it already on the mess of their cocks, as they'd taken turns jerking each other off, with their come left to make a deliberate mess in their laps.
A lap he was riding suggestively hard into, the size of the girth against his body giving an impression of how deeply it could reach. And it was hard for him to imagine wanting something more in these moments.]
Its new qualities, yes. [When he finally manages to speak again, rather than moan, or make any other sort of noise of blatant pleasure, it carries the show of a disgruntled note.] Obnoxious in design... and possibly dangerous to my health. What, exactly, are you having me swallow....
[Was this Ascian-safe glitter? Not that he was remotely concerned, or would do anything other than what he was doing, which was slowly licking it up from his own lips. Claiming it for himself- and given the shaky breath that followed, it was something he took pleasure in doing. (He'd also never been concerned when he'd been lapping up the come of a shapeshifting puca- something that had been the result of his lover's new magical prowess, and his understanding of the appropriate biological systems. And given Mettaton's occasionally-shaky grasp of things- especially when it came to what was safe for organic beings to consume- some retroactive caution might have been wise. But it had never occurred to him.)]
But if you want tended- do you think we have enough? ['Lubrication.' He glances down towards what remained between them, dripped down shafts and glazing their balls, what decorated abdomens and touched thighs.] Before you have me swallow it all down... what will it take to get you to fuck me?
[The last is delivered in something close to a growl, as he leans in to bite at Mettaton's lower lip, glitter apparent between them.]
no subject
Breath caught from it, he hadn't recovered when Mettaton finally releases him, where he could feel his smile against mutually damp lips, his words delivered the same way. And he wasn't about to try and interrupt the kiss that followed, something soft and loving, his lips feeling more sensitive to him somehow. The most Emet-Selch could do to finally comment at first was a huff- one that was interrupted too as the robot suddenly had another scoop of come at his fingers, and took to spreading it over the Ascian's lips instead.
And when Mettaton drags him forward, forcing him to ride harder on the root of the robot's cock, it was hopeless to avoid a moan. Shuddering, his body jerks, his own cock rigid and aching, his erection an obvious sign of his enjoyment. And with lips parted, the taste of semen awash over them and his tongue, he couldn't quite manage to swallow back another groan.
It was an oddly attractive thought. To see, explicitly, where each of them had marked one another (and what a primitive thing to find attractive, to take pleasure in marking and being marked by their mate with something as base as semen), and how thoroughly. Even if it was true enough that Emet-Selch had no trouble remembering where each of them had climaxed, even during sessions that grew long, and obscenely plentiful, it wasn't unattractive to imagine having a visual reminder. To see glitter pooling or dripping from him, and be reminded at a glance as to who had done this. (And when it came to stains left to dry on the bed or his clothes, he would know exactly who to blame. (It would always be Mettaton. (Even if it was the mage's how else would it have gotten there, if not for Mettaton's provocation?)))
It appealed to possessiveness. And of course, when their seed gathered together- where Mettaton's would become more clouded, pale and milky, while his own would take on an unsubtle shimmer and hint of pink... he already knew he would love that. He loved it already on the mess of their cocks, as they'd taken turns jerking each other off, with their come left to make a deliberate mess in their laps.
A lap he was riding suggestively hard into, the size of the girth against his body giving an impression of how deeply it could reach. And it was hard for him to imagine wanting something more in these moments.]
Its new qualities, yes. [When he finally manages to speak again, rather than moan, or make any other sort of noise of blatant pleasure, it carries the show of a disgruntled note.] Obnoxious in design... and possibly dangerous to my health. What, exactly, are you having me swallow....
[Was this Ascian-safe glitter? Not that he was remotely concerned, or would do anything other than what he was doing, which was slowly licking it up from his own lips. Claiming it for himself- and given the shaky breath that followed, it was something he took pleasure in doing. (He'd also never been concerned when he'd been lapping up the come of a shapeshifting puca- something that had been the result of his lover's new magical prowess, and his understanding of the appropriate biological systems. And given Mettaton's occasionally-shaky grasp of things- especially when it came to what was safe for organic beings to consume- some retroactive caution might have been wise. But it had never occurred to him.)]
But if you want tended- do you think we have enough? ['Lubrication.' He glances down towards what remained between them, dripped down shafts and glazing their balls, what decorated abdomens and touched thighs.] Before you have me swallow it all down... what will it take to get you to fuck me?
[The last is delivered in something close to a growl, as he leans in to bite at Mettaton's lower lip, glitter apparent between them.]