[Emet-Selch would agree that he felt harder, both in response to the semen given to his lips for a taste, and to everything else the other man did. From the near-growl on the robot's own part, and especially to the heat of their next kiss- something that felt nearly sloppy, rough, given the deliberate involvement of teeth- it all sharpened his need. His hips thrust forward, rolling hard against the taller man he was sitting on, in less impatience and more demand. An expectation for Mettaton to get properly and completely erect for him, a fullness warranting of his complete attention- impressive as he already was.
As there was no hope to keep from moaning at the slick way Mettaton's length slid against his body, a tease of his heat, and one he trembled to experience fully. It was exasperating (thrilling) at how firm his lover could remain between climaxes, how reliable his virility was now that he had a proper outlet for it again- and there would be little stopping the mage from encouraging him to his end, over and over.]
What do I think....
[With the order to come closer, he might've complained over how he was close enough already, riding on the robot's root, the mage's own cock nudging against his body. Wrapped up in a winding arm that left him feeling safe, in some softer way. But of course that wasn't enough, there was nothing that was ever enough, for one thing- and they knew exactly how they might be closer still. For all that he was in Mettaton's lap, he could be there more... securely, with more than his legs stretched around his body.
But comfort did matter- to some degree. To the degree where it still seemed valuable to bother with some sort of preparation at all, but not so far where he would defer full penetration at all due to the lack of real lubrication. He was hard; he hadn't been fucked by Mettaton in ages, and there was plenty of their ejaculate around. That all added up to being good enough.
With one arm bracing himself around the idol's body, the other, already messy hand, scoops up more semen onto his fingers, coating them properly in glittery slickness. An attractive substance, somehow (and the reminder of the taste of it at his lips felt stronger, and he swallows unconsciously), but he doesn't let himself be distracted by it.
Without waiting to be told, or for Mettaton to take that initiative, he brings his arm behind himself, to trace a cloudy finger around his entrance, smearing tight muscle with their seed. Automatically his breath hitches, body twitching at the sensation, the suggestiveness of what he was doing- but he doesn't delay long before beginning to work a single digit inside himself.]
Must I- do everything for you? Mettaton. [He exhales it heavily against Mettaton's neck, before pressing his face there. Kisses him; his breath was already leaving silicone damp.] You'll be ready as soon as I am.
[...Already, it was a reminder that come wasn't a real replacement for lube, no matter how glittery- but it was slick and it was something, and for all his wanting, he knew how to untense, how to make this as easy a process as possible for himself. Anticipation and arousal helped a great deal, and it would be difficult for him to have any more of either of those things.]
no subject
As there was no hope to keep from moaning at the slick way Mettaton's length slid against his body, a tease of his heat, and one he trembled to experience fully. It was exasperating (thrilling) at how firm his lover could remain between climaxes, how reliable his virility was now that he had a proper outlet for it again- and there would be little stopping the mage from encouraging him to his end, over and over.]
What do I think....
[With the order to come closer, he might've complained over how he was close enough already, riding on the robot's root, the mage's own cock nudging against his body. Wrapped up in a winding arm that left him feeling safe, in some softer way. But of course that wasn't enough, there was nothing that was ever enough, for one thing- and they knew exactly how they might be closer still. For all that he was in Mettaton's lap, he could be there more... securely, with more than his legs stretched around his body.
But comfort did matter- to some degree. To the degree where it still seemed valuable to bother with some sort of preparation at all, but not so far where he would defer full penetration at all due to the lack of real lubrication. He was hard; he hadn't been fucked by Mettaton in ages, and there was plenty of their ejaculate around. That all added up to being good enough.
With one arm bracing himself around the idol's body, the other, already messy hand, scoops up more semen onto his fingers, coating them properly in glittery slickness. An attractive substance, somehow (and the reminder of the taste of it at his lips felt stronger, and he swallows unconsciously), but he doesn't let himself be distracted by it.
Without waiting to be told, or for Mettaton to take that initiative, he brings his arm behind himself, to trace a cloudy finger around his entrance, smearing tight muscle with their seed. Automatically his breath hitches, body twitching at the sensation, the suggestiveness of what he was doing- but he doesn't delay long before beginning to work a single digit inside himself.]
Must I- do everything for you? Mettaton. [He exhales it heavily against Mettaton's neck, before pressing his face there. Kisses him; his breath was already leaving silicone damp.] You'll be ready as soon as I am.
[...Already, it was a reminder that come wasn't a real replacement for lube, no matter how glittery- but it was slick and it was something, and for all his wanting, he knew how to untense, how to make this as easy a process as possible for himself. Anticipation and arousal helped a great deal, and it would be difficult for him to have any more of either of those things.]