[Raw as they are and would continue to be made, he knew that it didn't make much sense to remain lodged inside of Emet-Selch's body except for the fact that he was still aroused. If Emet-Selch had come already, Mettaton would know better than to stay where he was... even if he'd probably wait until Emet-Selch requested that he depart anyway.
Which he's doing the opposite of, much to Mettaton's overall relief. He sighs, squishing Emet-Selch into the mattress with a firm application of his weight to exhibit Emet-Selch's softness some more—and giving him more of what has Emet-Selch gasping, squirming. Mettaton squirms himself, writhing into Emet-Selch's touch, squeezing the smaller man beneath him.]
Won't I. You know as well as I do... I'm a slave to you, like this.
[Sexually speaking, he really could be enticed into a lot of things. If Emet-Selch claimed that his libido was more wild than his own, Mettaton could only agree to it... He loved every touch of Emet-Selch's—and he knew already what would set him apart from all others. His emotional charge, the intent behind every press of fingers or every mash of their bodies... Mettaton was truly addicted.
Fitting himself deep with a wiggle of his hips, Mettaton sighs against lips, imagining the taste of their come between them with each kiss. He thought he could still remember the way it tasted, the way it provoked him... He knew it would be there to tease him, and even the thought of it has him kissing hungrily, a low sound pressed between their lips.
Of course, in the process of all this movement, Mettaton readily presses against Emet-Selch's upright cock—and adores the rigidity there, enough to groan, to stuff himself down to the root with greater insistence. To make clear his feeling, he sighs against the smaller man's lips, eye half-lidded.]
I couldn't leave you hard like this, and do... nothing. I have to feel you come around me...
no subject
Which he's doing the opposite of, much to Mettaton's overall relief. He sighs, squishing Emet-Selch into the mattress with a firm application of his weight to exhibit Emet-Selch's softness some more—and giving him more of what has Emet-Selch gasping, squirming. Mettaton squirms himself, writhing into Emet-Selch's touch, squeezing the smaller man beneath him.]
Won't I. You know as well as I do... I'm a slave to you, like this.
[Sexually speaking, he really could be enticed into a lot of things. If Emet-Selch claimed that his libido was more wild than his own, Mettaton could only agree to it... He loved every touch of Emet-Selch's—and he knew already what would set him apart from all others. His emotional charge, the intent behind every press of fingers or every mash of their bodies... Mettaton was truly addicted.
Fitting himself deep with a wiggle of his hips, Mettaton sighs against lips, imagining the taste of their come between them with each kiss. He thought he could still remember the way it tasted, the way it provoked him... He knew it would be there to tease him, and even the thought of it has him kissing hungrily, a low sound pressed between their lips.
Of course, in the process of all this movement, Mettaton readily presses against Emet-Selch's upright cock—and adores the rigidity there, enough to groan, to stuff himself down to the root with greater insistence. To make clear his feeling, he sighs against the smaller man's lips, eye half-lidded.]
I couldn't leave you hard like this, and do... nothing. I have to feel you come around me...