[Desire between them was, at most, only deferred. There had been the distress and hurt of these past few months together, and there had been this sharper frustration and fury of just now, but nothing erased that desire. Which felt an absurdity, to be this basely enamored of someone, where nearly any emotional state could translate smoothly into some manner of wanting for sex. For intimacy, rather; he didn't think they could perform together at all, without feeling being attached to it.
Mettaton's hips jerk, and Emet-Selch gasps against his lips, body reflexively tensing around his erection in a way that wasn't at all comfortable- but not a terrible feeling either. His hands similarly tense, fingers dragging over the robot's body, not entirely understanding the source of what seemed closer to actual pleasure. Arousal, that was both his and wasn't, as the mage's cock was still mostly soft by this point. But he was grateful for it, as while he found the discomfort worthwhile, the discomfort wasn't the point. He would take every bit of hurt and damage, but the more of it he could ignore in favor of more pleasurable sensations, the better.
Even aside from what seemed shared in a way impossible, it was inspiring, the way Mettaton reacted with such immediacy to those signs of his wanting for his body, his desire for his mate's sex. Something that was, indeed, a bit animalistic- and something that Emet-Selch was immensely attracted to receiving, and for being responsible for. And with reactions like that, how couldn't he be moved to try and work his hips upward, legs spread and tense about Mettaton's body, in similarly wordless but clear desire for him? A plead for more, even as he accepted his lover's pace for them, as his body struggled to accommodate the thickness he was receiving.
Little by little, could this pain be something he could be aroused by too? It wasn't the same as being bitten or scratched, being grasped so tightly he was bruised, left with marks of semi-permanence (or definite permanence). But it wasn't without the potential for pleasure- or rather, he couldn't separate it from the satisfaction and sensitivity of being filled this intimately, of having his husband's cock rubbing inside of him. Shakily, he whispers something close to a moan of the other man's name, nuzzling against his lips as he listened to his voice, as he absorbed his heat.
Whatever physical pleasure he could grasp himself he knew would help, but it wasn't a requirement. It dampened not at all his desire for the taller man, and his breath comes quicker between the solidity of Mettaton's kiss, a contact he responds to with something like hunger. Held more securely yet by Mettaton's hands, the other man's body surrounding and grasping and mounting him in a way that felt both possessive and loving, he felt safer by degrees, calmed (while enticed) and reassured.]
I'll only blame you if you- don't. Mettaton....
[--At first, he'd hoped for nothing more than to feel Mettaton buried down to his root, their bodies as joined and as close as they could be. Given the limited arousal between them to start, he hadn't wished for his climax, his come- but as the robot's thrusts firmed, his suggestion of getting into it sending a shiver of anticipatory pleasure through him- he found himself coveting the sensation of him reaching that particular height.
...His body still tenses now and again, despite his best efforts, reflexive flinching in response to being dryly kneaded by something thick and stiff. But he rocks to meet his thrusts all the same, as if to show that his body wouldn't stop him- that everything that Mettaton was giving him was exactly what he wanted, that the ache for more outstripped the pain it left him in.]
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Mettaton's hips jerk, and Emet-Selch gasps against his lips, body reflexively tensing around his erection in a way that wasn't at all comfortable- but not a terrible feeling either. His hands similarly tense, fingers dragging over the robot's body, not entirely understanding the source of what seemed closer to actual pleasure. Arousal, that was both his and wasn't, as the mage's cock was still mostly soft by this point. But he was grateful for it, as while he found the discomfort worthwhile, the discomfort wasn't the point. He would take every bit of hurt and damage, but the more of it he could ignore in favor of more pleasurable sensations, the better.
Even aside from what seemed shared in a way impossible, it was inspiring, the way Mettaton reacted with such immediacy to those signs of his wanting for his body, his desire for his mate's sex. Something that was, indeed, a bit animalistic- and something that Emet-Selch was immensely attracted to receiving, and for being responsible for. And with reactions like that, how couldn't he be moved to try and work his hips upward, legs spread and tense about Mettaton's body, in similarly wordless but clear desire for him? A plead for more, even as he accepted his lover's pace for them, as his body struggled to accommodate the thickness he was receiving.
Little by little, could this pain be something he could be aroused by too? It wasn't the same as being bitten or scratched, being grasped so tightly he was bruised, left with marks of semi-permanence (or definite permanence). But it wasn't without the potential for pleasure- or rather, he couldn't separate it from the satisfaction and sensitivity of being filled this intimately, of having his husband's cock rubbing inside of him. Shakily, he whispers something close to a moan of the other man's name, nuzzling against his lips as he listened to his voice, as he absorbed his heat.
Whatever physical pleasure he could grasp himself he knew would help, but it wasn't a requirement. It dampened not at all his desire for the taller man, and his breath comes quicker between the solidity of Mettaton's kiss, a contact he responds to with something like hunger. Held more securely yet by Mettaton's hands, the other man's body surrounding and grasping and mounting him in a way that felt both possessive and loving, he felt safer by degrees, calmed (while enticed) and reassured.]
I'll only blame you if you- don't. Mettaton....
[--At first, he'd hoped for nothing more than to feel Mettaton buried down to his root, their bodies as joined and as close as they could be. Given the limited arousal between them to start, he hadn't wished for his climax, his come- but as the robot's thrusts firmed, his suggestion of getting into it sending a shiver of anticipatory pleasure through him- he found himself coveting the sensation of him reaching that particular height.
...His body still tenses now and again, despite his best efforts, reflexive flinching in response to being dryly kneaded by something thick and stiff. But he rocks to meet his thrusts all the same, as if to show that his body wouldn't stop him- that everything that Mettaton was giving him was exactly what he wanted, that the ache for more outstripped the pain it left him in.]