[The way he looks at him, unguarded and exploring, entrances Mettaton. His lips part slightly, his own unguarded gaze roaming Emet-Selch's features, from the fading flush of exertion to the glow of his brilliant eyes. There's a tight frown on Emet-Selch's features, but no words to deny him, no dismissal of his desire... and the more the moments pass without pressure to continue, the more he warms to the notion of wanting to do this for the sake of that romantic connection.
An arm's slung around his person, and Mettaton sinks into it some more, sighing at the tactile comfort of it that he could feel so vividly, from the warmth of his limb to the softness of his skin. ...It did feel like a sad echo of what they just had, and MTT, too, ached for it. And even wanted him, despite it all, as he always had.
So when he suggests his willingness, Mettaton nods. Transfixed by his look alone, he could make the claim that his willingness to obey was induced by some kind of hypnotism, if he weren't sincerely endeared to the thought of kissing him after so simple a request. But Mettaton smiles, thumb stroking between his shoulder and neck as he mounts him.]
Would I ever. [An enthused reply, never wanting to shirk the opportunity.] I'm glad you asked.
[Because he wanted to kiss him too. If Emet-Selch hadn't asked, it was likely that MTT would've closed in, tested the emotional connection between their bodies—but just like this he closes in, curling around his husband's body as he works his length into him the best he can, all while locking lips.
Mettaton tenderly takes to kissing his lower lip, a soft union of them where he sucks gently, nuzzling against Emet-Selch's lips with a hum. He was so warm, so soft, so damp... All of the normal things that would welcome a kiss, but bits that Mettaton coveted, a touch that inspires him into wanting. Details of Emet-Selch that, sure, all other bodies would share—but Mettaton's transfixed on him uniquely, for all of his softness, his welcoming of a kiss, his welcoming of his body. Though his advance is tender, it belies a heat that manages to be a continuation of where they left off—a hunger for not only for the sensations he could experience, but the responses, the actions of the man beneath him.
And most importantly, the ardor he harbored for him, a heated affection that wouldn't be so easily quelled. He loved him all the same, wanted him all the same, and felt safe with him always.]
no subject
An arm's slung around his person, and Mettaton sinks into it some more, sighing at the tactile comfort of it that he could feel so vividly, from the warmth of his limb to the softness of his skin. ...It did feel like a sad echo of what they just had, and MTT, too, ached for it. And even wanted him, despite it all, as he always had.
So when he suggests his willingness, Mettaton nods. Transfixed by his look alone, he could make the claim that his willingness to obey was induced by some kind of hypnotism, if he weren't sincerely endeared to the thought of kissing him after so simple a request. But Mettaton smiles, thumb stroking between his shoulder and neck as he mounts him.]
Would I ever. [An enthused reply, never wanting to shirk the opportunity.] I'm glad you asked.
[Because he wanted to kiss him too. If Emet-Selch hadn't asked, it was likely that MTT would've closed in, tested the emotional connection between their bodies—but just like this he closes in, curling around his husband's body as he works his length into him the best he can, all while locking lips.
Mettaton tenderly takes to kissing his lower lip, a soft union of them where he sucks gently, nuzzling against Emet-Selch's lips with a hum. He was so warm, so soft, so damp... All of the normal things that would welcome a kiss, but bits that Mettaton coveted, a touch that inspires him into wanting. Details of Emet-Selch that, sure, all other bodies would share—but Mettaton's transfixed on him uniquely, for all of his softness, his welcoming of a kiss, his welcoming of his body. Though his advance is tender, it belies a heat that manages to be a continuation of where they left off—a hunger for not only for the sensations he could experience, but the responses, the actions of the man beneath him.
And most importantly, the ardor he harbored for him, a heated affection that wouldn't be so easily quelled. He loved him all the same, wanted him all the same, and felt safe with him always.]