[Emet-Selch is erect and determined, and MTT sees it clear as day, with dazed awe. And with moans to boot, as he slides his way stubbornly down his cock, enveloping him in muscle that seizes and tightens erratically.
What comes of having fucked a lot is experience with different sensations, Mettaton's discovered. Even though this feeling of heat, processed by this specific body of his, was enough to swallow him in delight, the uniqueness of sensation dizzying... he recognized the tension as Emet-Selch slips down fractions of an inch at a time. To him, it doesn't hurt; his erection is made up of a rigid core, and already he is full, thick, and ready. However, come isn't a perfect lubricant, not even his, despite its seemingly otherworldly composition (and was it too much to ask for, for a robot to ejaculate a lubricant-like substance?? maybe Emet-Selch just needed more!). And as his husband silently cries out, awash in intensity, Mettaton finds himself bombarded by so much the same; his own voice sings, loud enough to eclipse the silence in his pleasure.
There's no worry or much in the way of real thought to this, when Mettaton feels Emet-Selch nuzzling him quietly. His whine is soft most of all... and Mettaton finds himself doting on the smaller man, admiring his determination in spite of the challenges. But there was something more than that, in the way that tense thighs forced him into a tense body, into a tense squeeze around his cock- as the smaller man could've done with lingering around just the tip of him for a bit longer, couldn't he? But there was a reason he couldn't, and between the lines, the idol understood it. Mettaton hugs him tight, nearly lifting him just to block him from sinking any lower.]
Oh, darling... You're... fabulous, ah...
[How did it feel to be truly together? There wasn't any time for patience with this reward ahead of them, a togetherness brought by being properly pinioned atop his cock, to have his erection sheathed by his warm body, and to know that they were experiencing each other in this intimate way. Of course he wanted more, a deeper plunge; Mettaton recognized Emet-Selch's efforts, and the affection he felt from him reached so far that it left him raw, tender.
Arm unwinding just enough to grasp his shoulder, Mettaton twists, kisses his ear, and presses their chests together. He stops Emet-Selch, holding him tight to his body- all before shifting, folding his legs up and beneath him, as his robotic strengths works to keep Emet-Selch stable. He knew the smaller man would tense some more, but that wasn't much different from what he was doing now.
In a silky voice, he smiles close to his ear.]
Let me... take care of you, Hades. You are tense. [Which was something to avoid, but understandable all the same. He clicks his tongue.] I want you... Ahh... on your back.
[A movement swift and decisive, so as not to stretch it out- and to prevent Emet-Selch's maintained tension when he should be adjusting to this stretch. Taking it at a moderated pace wasn't doable as they are... but there were ways to help guide Emet-Selch into pliant softness by robbing him of things to do, by making his singular task receiving him.
Swinging the Ascian against the bedsheets, Mettaton presses into him lovingly, kissing up his jaw, brushing their lips together with a sharp exhale. And from there, he asserts his weight, he shifts his thighs, and he grips Emet-Selch's hips: the smaller man would rest with his ass against Mettaton's lap, as he curled around him, settled deep between his thighs. And as they are, Mettaton draws back just slightly- where he gives Emet-Selch short, but rhythmic thrusts, a change to adjust shallowly to this thick intrusion. Speaking close to the corner of his lips, Mettaton first lifts enough to make eye contact, violet bright despite its darkness.]
I can't have you doing everything for me, as you said b... before...
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What comes of having fucked a lot is experience with different sensations, Mettaton's discovered. Even though this feeling of heat, processed by this specific body of his, was enough to swallow him in delight, the uniqueness of sensation dizzying... he recognized the tension as Emet-Selch slips down fractions of an inch at a time. To him, it doesn't hurt; his erection is made up of a rigid core, and already he is full, thick, and ready. However, come isn't a perfect lubricant, not even his, despite its seemingly otherworldly composition (and was it too much to ask for, for a robot to ejaculate a lubricant-like substance?? maybe Emet-Selch just needed more!). And as his husband silently cries out, awash in intensity, Mettaton finds himself bombarded by so much the same; his own voice sings, loud enough to eclipse the silence in his pleasure.
There's no worry or much in the way of real thought to this, when Mettaton feels Emet-Selch nuzzling him quietly. His whine is soft most of all... and Mettaton finds himself doting on the smaller man, admiring his determination in spite of the challenges. But there was something more than that, in the way that tense thighs forced him into a tense body, into a tense squeeze around his cock- as the smaller man could've done with lingering around just the tip of him for a bit longer, couldn't he? But there was a reason he couldn't, and between the lines, the idol understood it. Mettaton hugs him tight, nearly lifting him just to block him from sinking any lower.]
Oh, darling... You're... fabulous, ah...
[How did it feel to be truly together? There wasn't any time for patience with this reward ahead of them, a togetherness brought by being properly pinioned atop his cock, to have his erection sheathed by his warm body, and to know that they were experiencing each other in this intimate way. Of course he wanted more, a deeper plunge; Mettaton recognized Emet-Selch's efforts, and the affection he felt from him reached so far that it left him raw, tender.
Arm unwinding just enough to grasp his shoulder, Mettaton twists, kisses his ear, and presses their chests together. He stops Emet-Selch, holding him tight to his body- all before shifting, folding his legs up and beneath him, as his robotic strengths works to keep Emet-Selch stable. He knew the smaller man would tense some more, but that wasn't much different from what he was doing now.
In a silky voice, he smiles close to his ear.]
Let me... take care of you, Hades. You are tense. [Which was something to avoid, but understandable all the same. He clicks his tongue.] I want you... Ahh... on your back.
[A movement swift and decisive, so as not to stretch it out- and to prevent Emet-Selch's maintained tension when he should be adjusting to this stretch. Taking it at a moderated pace wasn't doable as they are... but there were ways to help guide Emet-Selch into pliant softness by robbing him of things to do, by making his singular task receiving him.
Swinging the Ascian against the bedsheets, Mettaton presses into him lovingly, kissing up his jaw, brushing their lips together with a sharp exhale. And from there, he asserts his weight, he shifts his thighs, and he grips Emet-Selch's hips: the smaller man would rest with his ass against Mettaton's lap, as he curled around him, settled deep between his thighs. And as they are, Mettaton draws back just slightly- where he gives Emet-Selch short, but rhythmic thrusts, a change to adjust shallowly to this thick intrusion. Speaking close to the corner of his lips, Mettaton first lifts enough to make eye contact, violet bright despite its darkness.]
I can't have you doing everything for me, as you said b... before...