[He should have expected that this would've been Emet-Selch's reaction, but for some reason he doesn't. Not in the moment. But Emet-Selch's possessiveness reached far, far enough that interruption at taking his robotic husband, even when posed by the robot himself for any reason, would not be tolerated. Even as he sets him down, he doesn't quite register his writhing; even as Emet-Selch snaps at him with his teeth, he doesn't register that, either.
Especially when the way he links his legs around his hips is... horribly, terribly erotic. Mettaton can't help the way he moans, and the way his moan intensifies when Emet-Selch exerts pressure, fighting the 'gradual and safe' method he has in mind, all of the best intentions of sparing Emet-Selch lasting pain.
...And this is apparently consulting Emet-Selch on the position change, to which Emet-Selch has fierce disagreement. Mettaton blinks widely at him, still smiling- before his vision's glazed over and he groans, feeling the way the smaller man attempts to reclaim the length of his shaft he's lost. Mettaton's arms wobble, succumbing to Emet-Selch's grip.]
Hades, oh--
[To be buried deep and connected entirely to Emet-Selch is a sirensong hard to resist. Especially when he was decided, stubbornly clawing for their deepest connection despite the pain Mettaton could tell he was in, and when he declares it to be managing. The right thing to do was probably to hold his ground and remind Emet-Selch that they couldn't keep fucking if his body were hurt, taking a girth too much for him to handle. But... what was the right thing, if it went against Emet-Selch's will?
And he was aggressively persuasive. Mettaton can't help it when his thrusts firm up, when he curls deep over his husband with the want to mate him- easily convinced as he is, it doesn't take much for him to be as deep as Emet-Selch had him, but this time with the work of his own thrusting. There's no more holding Emet-Selch back anymore from what he wished to claim of him, the attempt something that came from a Mettaton moments before whose sanity rather than insatiability worked with his heart- where now, his insatiability left him lovestruck and wanting.
But he manages some words, foreheads close together.]
You were... Oh, you're a cassanova, sweetheart... [Wwwwhich is to say that even this show of ferocity, a determination to claim the cock he was sitting on, is a convincing argument that the pain was worth the gain. Mettaton strokes himself firmly on taut muscle, though he keeps eye contact with the bright eyes of the Ascian before him.] You took half of me in almost one go... Can't I give you the rest?
[On his terms, yes. But it was clear that Mettaton wasn't trapping him enough to keep him from moving his hips, even if he had the other man pinned. The brightness in the idol's gaze is a maddening thirst, a smile that won't leave the corners of his lips. He could pin Emet-Selch back, and, like this, stroke him into fullness. Emet-Selch's assertion was greater reassurance that this was not only wanted, but required... and even MTT knew it was, even should pain be a feature.]
no subject
Especially when the way he links his legs around his hips is... horribly, terribly erotic. Mettaton can't help the way he moans, and the way his moan intensifies when Emet-Selch exerts pressure, fighting the 'gradual and safe' method he has in mind, all of the best intentions of sparing Emet-Selch lasting pain.
...And this is apparently consulting Emet-Selch on the position change, to which Emet-Selch has fierce disagreement. Mettaton blinks widely at him, still smiling- before his vision's glazed over and he groans, feeling the way the smaller man attempts to reclaim the length of his shaft he's lost. Mettaton's arms wobble, succumbing to Emet-Selch's grip.]
Hades, oh--
[To be buried deep and connected entirely to Emet-Selch is a sirensong hard to resist. Especially when he was decided, stubbornly clawing for their deepest connection despite the pain Mettaton could tell he was in, and when he declares it to be managing. The right thing to do was probably to hold his ground and remind Emet-Selch that they couldn't keep fucking if his body were hurt, taking a girth too much for him to handle. But... what was the right thing, if it went against Emet-Selch's will?
And he was aggressively persuasive. Mettaton can't help it when his thrusts firm up, when he curls deep over his husband with the want to mate him- easily convinced as he is, it doesn't take much for him to be as deep as Emet-Selch had him, but this time with the work of his own thrusting. There's no more holding Emet-Selch back anymore from what he wished to claim of him, the attempt something that came from a Mettaton moments before whose sanity rather than insatiability worked with his heart- where now, his insatiability left him lovestruck and wanting.
But he manages some words, foreheads close together.]
You were... Oh, you're a cassanova, sweetheart... [Wwwwhich is to say that even this show of ferocity, a determination to claim the cock he was sitting on, is a convincing argument that the pain was worth the gain. Mettaton strokes himself firmly on taut muscle, though he keeps eye contact with the bright eyes of the Ascian before him.] You took half of me in almost one go... Can't I give you the rest?
[On his terms, yes. But it was clear that Mettaton wasn't trapping him enough to keep him from moving his hips, even if he had the other man pinned. The brightness in the idol's gaze is a maddening thirst, a smile that won't leave the corners of his lips. He could pin Emet-Selch back, and, like this, stroke him into fullness. Emet-Selch's assertion was greater reassurance that this was not only wanted, but required... and even MTT knew it was, even should pain be a feature.]