[Mettaton's reaction to what he was doing was everything he could've hoped for, and he smiles briefly against his neck, before his lips part for another moan, soft and low.
He would have enjoyed it, had Mettaton gotten there first- and Emet-Selch assumed such a direction had been immanent, given the way their desires seemed to align. The intimacy of the robot preparing him with his own come, produced not just for this purpose, but something they could both appreciate making use of- would he have been able to last through that? His erection felt like it throbbed, aching and hot, reflecting the mage's swiftened pulse.
Like this, Emet-Selch had better control over the sensation, could avoid toying with himself any more than he wanted to- but instead, he had the redirected pleasure of knowing Mettaton was observing him. That he could tell exactly what he was up to and why, which was a strange thrill in itself, even though this was hardly the first time, and even if Mettaton couldn't actually see him do it. Not directly. (They really needed to invest in some more mirrors.)
The unavoidable catch to his breath, the deliberate spread of his legs and shivering tension in his thighs, the position of his arm and flushed concentration to his manner- every corresponding indication was there. None of it he attempts to hide.
Where Mettaton thrust, his body tries to thrust back, to grind against him. Groaning a rough note, he couldn't help the way he tensed up around his own finger, imagining that it was a cock instead. It didn't hurt, at least, not with a lone digit spreading semen, even when he has it pressed past the knuckles, as deep as he could reach. Which was nothing at all compared to how deep Mettaton could go, and a quick glance down to the swell of his cock was an unnecessary but arousing reminder of it. But there was not only length but especially girth to prepare for- something that his own finger was hardly even a tease of.
And yet, even this he had to adjust to. Something so modest was still an insertion, and he wanted to give to Mettaton something that was a comfortably tight fit- as comfortable as he had the patience for, anyway....
So he thrusts that finger inside of himself, eyes mostly closed as he nuzzled at Mettaton's jaw, his pulse pounding.]
How... you're always hotter than I remember. Each... and every time. And you'll feel my warmth right back, surrounding you. While you're thicker than I- than I....
[His words are interrupted as his thoughts encourage his hand to make good on what he was imagining, which was how his body would be made to stretch around a full erection. It's not rushed, exactly, he doesn't force it immediately deep, but spends these next moments tugging firmly, slickly, at his entrance with two fingers, the slightly greater presence inside himself an inspiration.
Bringing his head up, he kisses at Mettaton's jaw, trailing nearly to his lips, before leaning back just enough to look out his eye, to watch his husband's own expression, his own hazy and flushed. Desperate... but enjoying this both, the anticipation that filled him, and the thick cock he was pressed to filling on its own, with a stiffness he didn't think he was imagining.
He still manages a frown, a show of dismay.]
--Whatever force endowed you did not take my comfort into account. [He complains... even as they knew from experience that he loved Mettaton's size, his shape- everything about him. And what he was eager to ride, what he was preparing himself for was strikingly similar to what Mettaton had chosen for himself, in the past. A thickness they both found fitting... and which did fit, no matter how much Emet-Selch might protest it.] But I imagine you'll find me--
[Even that show of contrariness isn't something he can maintain for long, not when he works his fingers deeper, coaxing his body to accept them with small, contained thrusts. He'd wanted this... to be doing this for him, to be looking forward to servicing Mettaton's erection by fitting it deep in his body, to feel themselves joined. He ached, with more than his cock- but that too, as a part of his fantasy, to find climax once more with Mettaton filling him out, in the other man's arms, each of them caught up in the other's heat. His gaze falls to the side, voice nearly mumbled.]
no subject
He would have enjoyed it, had Mettaton gotten there first- and Emet-Selch assumed such a direction had been immanent, given the way their desires seemed to align. The intimacy of the robot preparing him with his own come, produced not just for this purpose, but something they could both appreciate making use of- would he have been able to last through that? His erection felt like it throbbed, aching and hot, reflecting the mage's swiftened pulse.
Like this, Emet-Selch had better control over the sensation, could avoid toying with himself any more than he wanted to- but instead, he had the redirected pleasure of knowing Mettaton was observing him. That he could tell exactly what he was up to and why, which was a strange thrill in itself, even though this was hardly the first time, and even if Mettaton couldn't actually see him do it. Not directly. (They really needed to invest in some more mirrors.)
The unavoidable catch to his breath, the deliberate spread of his legs and shivering tension in his thighs, the position of his arm and flushed concentration to his manner- every corresponding indication was there. None of it he attempts to hide.
Where Mettaton thrust, his body tries to thrust back, to grind against him. Groaning a rough note, he couldn't help the way he tensed up around his own finger, imagining that it was a cock instead. It didn't hurt, at least, not with a lone digit spreading semen, even when he has it pressed past the knuckles, as deep as he could reach. Which was nothing at all compared to how deep Mettaton could go, and a quick glance down to the swell of his cock was an unnecessary but arousing reminder of it. But there was not only length but especially girth to prepare for- something that his own finger was hardly even a tease of.
And yet, even this he had to adjust to. Something so modest was still an insertion, and he wanted to give to Mettaton something that was a comfortably tight fit- as comfortable as he had the patience for, anyway....
So he thrusts that finger inside of himself, eyes mostly closed as he nuzzled at Mettaton's jaw, his pulse pounding.]
How... you're always hotter than I remember. Each... and every time. And you'll feel my warmth right back, surrounding you. While you're thicker than I- than I....
[His words are interrupted as his thoughts encourage his hand to make good on what he was imagining, which was how his body would be made to stretch around a full erection. It's not rushed, exactly, he doesn't force it immediately deep, but spends these next moments tugging firmly, slickly, at his entrance with two fingers, the slightly greater presence inside himself an inspiration.
Bringing his head up, he kisses at Mettaton's jaw, trailing nearly to his lips, before leaning back just enough to look out his eye, to watch his husband's own expression, his own hazy and flushed. Desperate... but enjoying this both, the anticipation that filled him, and the thick cock he was pressed to filling on its own, with a stiffness he didn't think he was imagining.
He still manages a frown, a show of dismay.]
--Whatever force endowed you did not take my comfort into account. [He complains... even as they knew from experience that he loved Mettaton's size, his shape- everything about him. And what he was eager to ride, what he was preparing himself for was strikingly similar to what Mettaton had chosen for himself, in the past. A thickness they both found fitting... and which did fit, no matter how much Emet-Selch might protest it.] But I imagine you'll find me--
[Even that show of contrariness isn't something he can maintain for long, not when he works his fingers deeper, coaxing his body to accept them with small, contained thrusts. He'd wanted this... to be doing this for him, to be looking forward to servicing Mettaton's erection by fitting it deep in his body, to feel themselves joined. He ached, with more than his cock- but that too, as a part of his fantasy, to find climax once more with Mettaton filling him out, in the other man's arms, each of them caught up in the other's heat. His gaze falls to the side, voice nearly mumbled.]
...Accommodating.