[Emet-Selch did find himself briefly comparing it to their experience in the house of mirrors, the only other time they'd gone completely without lubrication. That had hurt more; he'd also been more sharply aroused (and emotionally disturbed, but in a different direction from now), so it had somewhat balanced out. Mettaton's thrusts had been rougher, harder on him, as he'd pinned the smaller man against a wall, as he'd had no frame of reference as to what that insertion was supposed to be like- and Emet-Selch hadn't bothered to explain until afterward.
This wasn't as difficult as that; as copious as Mettaton's drool had been then (mixed with the mage's blood), his semen was even moreso (mixed with the mage's semen). And this time, Emet-Selch had prepared himself somewhat (rather than telling the robot to have at it, and... having him do just that).
This hurt; this was horniness and other neediness prevailing over sense. He would be sore afterward. But it was also increasingly good.
And what unintentionally helped too, was the reaction he got while dragging his hands down the robot's sides. The way his partner nearly jolted, moved as though it were his cock being electrified, causes his own body to twitch, to jerk up into his length. It was something sensitive- and in the heat of the moment, he couldn't distinguish between what Mettaton was feeling, and what he was feeling too, or whether he was just that taken by his lover's reaction to being scratched that way.
Whatever the cause, it was good, it got him harder, as his body responded to all this stimulus in the most natural way it knew: by filling out his cock.
A prime factor in that hardening, though, was the way Mettaton filled him out, in reliable pushes that gave him as much chance as he could to adapt. (Far more than he would've given himself, and where he still would have chosen that outcome if he thought about it- he's not thinking of it now, given in to what they had like this. The familiarity and comfort of being laid down, Mettaton wrapped around him as much as he could, securing him against his hips.) And even if the deeper he went, the more he stretched him, and the more it hurt- the more it inevitably aroused him too. Both in the consciousness of what they were doing, the erotic truth of Mettaton fitting him with his cock, but the way it rubbed him wasn't entirely about the rawness.
Crying out against his lips, it's made breathless and partially swallowed by the way their lips continued to meet. Ardor and kisses that he struggles to meet, though it's effort clumsier, damper now, as he nearly pants against him. A warm shiver courses through him to hear Mettaton growling, his body instinctively excited by the sound, and by the way the taller man mounted him with it.]
Keep- keep going, Mettaton--
[It's less demand and more of a plea, whispered in a tight voice near his lips, which he continues trying to kiss- even as his own keep parting to vocalize less coherently than that, with soft groans and cries. Gasps from sharper twinges of pain, as his body took more and more of a hard, thick cock- but sounds that trailed off into shaky, outright moans. It was entirely removed from how clinical it had been to start, and far more than he thought was achievable, from the way his legs lock around him, to how he scrapes his hands down the robot's sides, tensely groping and holding on. If not the most desperate he'd ever been, he was committed- and openly affected.]
no subject
This wasn't as difficult as that; as copious as Mettaton's drool had been then (mixed with the mage's blood), his semen was even moreso (mixed with the mage's semen). And this time, Emet-Selch had prepared himself somewhat (rather than telling the robot to have at it, and... having him do just that).
This hurt; this was horniness and other neediness prevailing over sense. He would be sore afterward. But it was also increasingly good.
And what unintentionally helped too, was the reaction he got while dragging his hands down the robot's sides. The way his partner nearly jolted, moved as though it were his cock being electrified, causes his own body to twitch, to jerk up into his length. It was something sensitive- and in the heat of the moment, he couldn't distinguish between what Mettaton was feeling, and what he was feeling too, or whether he was just that taken by his lover's reaction to being scratched that way.
Whatever the cause, it was good, it got him harder, as his body responded to all this stimulus in the most natural way it knew: by filling out his cock.
A prime factor in that hardening, though, was the way Mettaton filled him out, in reliable pushes that gave him as much chance as he could to adapt. (Far more than he would've given himself, and where he still would have chosen that outcome if he thought about it- he's not thinking of it now, given in to what they had like this. The familiarity and comfort of being laid down, Mettaton wrapped around him as much as he could, securing him against his hips.) And even if the deeper he went, the more he stretched him, and the more it hurt- the more it inevitably aroused him too. Both in the consciousness of what they were doing, the erotic truth of Mettaton fitting him with his cock, but the way it rubbed him wasn't entirely about the rawness.
Crying out against his lips, it's made breathless and partially swallowed by the way their lips continued to meet. Ardor and kisses that he struggles to meet, though it's effort clumsier, damper now, as he nearly pants against him. A warm shiver courses through him to hear Mettaton growling, his body instinctively excited by the sound, and by the way the taller man mounted him with it.]
Keep- keep going, Mettaton--
[It's less demand and more of a plea, whispered in a tight voice near his lips, which he continues trying to kiss- even as his own keep parting to vocalize less coherently than that, with soft groans and cries. Gasps from sharper twinges of pain, as his body took more and more of a hard, thick cock- but sounds that trailed off into shaky, outright moans. It was entirely removed from how clinical it had been to start, and far more than he thought was achievable, from the way his legs lock around him, to how he scrapes his hands down the robot's sides, tensely groping and holding on. If not the most desperate he'd ever been, he was committed- and openly affected.]