[Whether learned or innate it was Mettaton's response, to vocalize in sounds that were as good as panting, gasps to demonstrate his overwhelm. And Emet-Selch clung to him in such a way that made him feel totally secured. Had he been the flighty person he'd wondered he might be in Emet-Selch's clutches, to be clung to might've been uncomfortable, unwanted... But with their precise chemistry, he wouldn't want anything different, not ever. Feeling him tight against his body and writhing in time with each movement was a treat, and he felt touched to be granted that sight and feeling of Emet-Selch so lively and enamored.
Softer feelings to accompany such a base combining, as Mettaton barely removes himself from Emet-Selch's body while stirring himself deep. And with every spurt of seed Emet-Selch was that bit slicker... too late, of course, given that he'd already be raw.
But in the moment he had much to give, and Emet-Selch was evidently overeager to take. He squeezes 'round his erection in a way that felt as though demanding, and the idol grins madly to give all he had, collapsing close to the soft body beneath him. It's no small wonder that Emet-Selch sounds considerably breathless as he attempts to capture his lips in a kiss. By considerably breathless, Mettaton knew it was because he really did need the breath, while he did not... but it was all the same to him, these signs of affect.
Emet-Selch's hand departs from his sensitive side, but he feels next the warmth of his arm wrapped around his torso instead. With a short tremble he curls, collapses, comes apart as he slackens in his lover's arms, a low, shaky groan the sound that accompanies his final good thrust, whatever heat he presently had to give squeezed from his cock. Against Emet-Selch's lips, Mettaton's part, and he nuzzles him sweetly.]
H... Hades...
[His name needs to be said, an answer to the times Emet-Selch uttered his name between moans. He squirms his way between thighs, and stuffs himself down to the root, not wanting to surrender his spot just because he'd finished his orgasm.]
[It was likely that he'd be less able to tolerate 'comfortably' (as he was already uncomfortable, underneath the arousal and overall distraction, his fascination over the sensation of thick heat filling him) the robot lingering for as long as he often did. But there was no rush at all, to feel him withdraw. To the absolute contrary; if Mettaton had tried, the mage would resist with everything he could muster.
As he was still erect himself, after all, and he could imagine no better way at the moment, than to find relief with the other man still inside him.
But he's not at the point of needing to beg for that either, for permission or assistance- nor is he thinking much about it. It was a warm ache, a quick throb that he knew was arousal and very physical wanting, but it was easy enough to not concentrate on, when he had all of Mettaton's own responses to climax to witness and take. Clutching, kneading at his body as the robot collapses in his arms, his hold adjusts again to wrap around him as much as he could.
To trap him there; to keep him from escaping. Even if Mettaton could, if he chose to, robotic strength more potent than anything that Emet-Selch possessed, the mage latches tight. It was an attempt at restriction he wouldn't think to ease; it was a request in its unconscious way, to not be left. There were a number of reasons why he might be moved to cling so tightly to him, but the want to keep him at his side might be greatest of all.
Shivering, he groans into Mettaton's nuzzles, answering them with no less ardor, especially at the sound of his name, the effort it must have taken to say it as clearly as that. And to express further the pleasure he must have just experienced. It was a rush in its own right, to feel his lover undone in this way, and sharply appealing.
Appealing too, was the way he kept himself lodged tight, pushed close so that they were as flush as could be, Mettaton stuffed completely into a body that welcomed him (if not without some quarreling, some rawness). Even if he weren't hard, it would've appealed terribly, and Emet-Selch kisses him as firmly as he could, with swollen, damp lips.]
You gave so much... I can feel it.
[And it eased more in him than he thought it would, to have that reassurance, that very tangible sensation.]
[And likewise, MTT would eventually know better than to linger overlong. But there wasn't any rush: he'd only just climaxed, and his body but tingled all over, any sense he possessed firing off to make even the air a pressure satisfyingly overcoming. If he closed his eye, he could only squirm with delight at the sensitivity of Emet-Selch wrapped around his cock, and the sensation of his body pressed against his own. He felt it all so vividly, and everything was all so warm, so cold...
And warmth that reaches his heart as Emet-Selch wraps himself around his body. He was being caught, and Mettaton not only didn't mind, but encouraged it. He smiles, an airy giggle as he blissfully pushes into his grasp, encouraging this entrapment of his body. He wouldn't be using his robotic strength this time, when he wanted to badly to let Emet-Selch claim him as his prize. His lips part around the mage's moan, wishing to swallow up his voice as he trembles, succumbing to his embrace as wholly as he could—even crushing him into the mattress in the process.]
I can't help myself. You provoke a lot out of me.
[His voice is pitched soft, a gentle utterance against lips that needed to be kissed. And he does, closing that bit of distance to lock lips, an interruption of Emet-Selch's capacity for breath—all replaced with a low, nearly predatory hum. That he'd still be hungry for him even after his recent orgasm should be expected, he thought. He is easily provoked by him, after all.
The most he does, though, is stuff himself deep inside of Emet-Selch and wriggle his hips, showing off the depth and heat he's achieved. His release left behind, his manner is proud while he tugs the smaller man against his crotch once more before moving his hands, fingers dragging up his sides on their way to his shoulders. With a sigh, Mettaton cuddles Emet-Selch firmly.]
Do you like this? All of... this, that you've given me.
[From the fullness of his cock, the rigidness of it, the size, the load he could provide—and everything else, from the supple silicone that made up his hips, to his newfound ability to feel temperature. Mettaton himself? Obviously spellbound, impressed and in love with it all as he shudders close to Emet-Selch's body.]
[Mettaton was his prize, and he felt no shame in expressing that feeling in the way he held him, in the way he clutched at his body and demanded his nearness. His company and his touch, and every one of his expressions.
That there was the consequence of being secured himself, kept so snug against the mattress that he was compressed into it, that was a pleasure too. There usually was, in being restricted, restrained, unable to move from his taller mate's grasp. Though he disliked the way he'd gotten here, Emet-Selch was entirely taken by his place underneath the other man now, and would be resentful instead to lose it.
Not that he thought there was any chance of him losing much of anything, when everything about his husband's behavior (and their extensive history together), spoke of a maintained interest, no matter his recent climax. Which could have set his heart speeding if it weren't already quick, his body already alight with its own interest. He shivered nonetheless, not fighting the way his lips, his breath were each captured by the monster- and his attention with it, his focus centered utterly on Mettaton.
And his body remained understandably responsive to him, reactive to that press of hips, the breathless noise he makes one of simple wanting. A twitch of his body upward is its own request, and a showing that he would take everything Mettaton had to give, no matter how thick he was. But gods, that depth, that heat....
The stiff cock he had nudging up against the other man was one direct way of showing off that Emet-Selch liked this. Not that he needed an erection to do that, or to enjoy himself, but it was a means he had no control over either.]
Can't you tell?
[He echoes his sigh- or tries to, so near his lips, as his body shifts and tries to stretch underneath him. It amounts mostly to squeezing the idol with his limbs (and inevitably around his cock), before relenting. Despite continuing to be pent up, aroused and wanting and unrelieved, some other part of him was relaxed. It was no particular surprise; he had Mettaton's length fully inside of him, had felt him come just like this. Something that had been missing from their lives had been righted (if not without some pain, but that was a minor detail ultimately). Everything... worked, and he had the proof inside him that his lover could know the pleasure that he deserved.
(Taste (and saliva) and smell would still have to be recovered, but though he missed knowing that Mettaton could experience him in those ways, it wasn't as bitter of a miss as his lack of sensation had been.)]
...I love it.
[That Mettaton would know both his warmth and his softness, reflected and given over to him along the whole length of his body, and even inside him- it made him feel that little bit less alone.]
[He's wrapped around the robot in more ways than just arms clutching him in an embrace, MTT thinks with amused affection. Too recently they weren't in agreement about positions... and now, it felt like the most natural thing all over again. Mettaton knew this wasn't just a body that belonged to Emet-Selch, but that the man would be fiercely protective of his position. There was no reason to fight this, given that he was already as much in pain as he'd be for now. No matter how further excited or provoked MTT could get, even he would feel too raw to go a full 'nother round.
But he was still basking in the feeling right now, and his body was eager to remain excitable as ever. Emet-Selch's still hard, a truth he knew too vividly... He could only feel it against his body, and Mettaton hums as he attempts to press deeper between Emet-Selch's legs, just to feel that bulge of heat.
... The reality that Mettaton would be just like this, unable to disguise his arousal, was a tantalizing thing. He shuddered right back to consider it, while Emet-Selch stretches against his body- arching his back, and indeed squeezing tight around his cock. Mettaton gasps again, a breath expelled against the smaller man's lips.]
... I'm so glad. So... pleased.
[His voice itself is honey, words nearly slurred together in his relaxed overcome. Even though he was warmly aroused, the sort that accompanied his ejaculation, he felt comfortably possessed and possessive- and proud of the man he called his husband, stubborn and determined and dedicated as he is. The affection he felt for Emet-Selch left him feeling so, so vulnerable... and he loved it, as he takes him into a softer kiss.
A brush of lips, a sweet taste of each other's heat. Their sentiments warm, and bodies warmer, their very hearts embodied by both. Sex between them was no mere physical affair, so much of their selves tangled up in every touch and look... Mettaton curls around Emet-Selch, his kisses lingering and steady- enough to rob him of breath, and enough to give him a chance just to reclaim it and surrender it again.]
I can feel it all. How hot I am inside of you... And oh, H... How soft you are, around me.
[... It didn't help that Mettaton was so often hard more than anything else. Made of metal, sure, but also terribly excitable, enough that his body remained provoked and ready to be fucked, to give his husband the pleasure he sought.]
[Some part of him recognized that it would be difficult for them to continue fucking like this past their current round. (It was the sore part of him.) Even though he'd been willing- demanding to be hurt in order to be full, that state had been achieved. Not in the way he'd originally thought it would, but which had brought pleasure regardless. While he still hoped to see his own release, to mark Mettaton again in this obvious way, he understood that they were both raw. Rawness that would only get worse, and something they could at least attempt to avoid.
(Especially as he knew they'd be lured into sex as a constant thing, and keeping the damage manageable would be a line they'd have to tred carefully. He wasn't satisfied at being fucked like this once- but he was reassured enough by it in the moment to not demand more of it for now. Just holding him this way was something to savor.)
That Mettaton would remain aroused though, would be provoked anyway, Emet-Selch could sigh over it. Affectionate and exasperated both (and attracted not least, his own cock throbbing at the idea of knowing of his lover's interest in him), he moans instead, soft and low, to follow the robot's reply. Of course he'd react to being clenched around, to being held somewhere snug and warm, and so recently made significantly hotter by the addition of semen.
No less important, though, were the emotional appeals made, the willingness to be vulnerable in the ways of wanting and weakness. Not without difficulties... but that was how they'd always been together, and he felt as though he could melt into a kiss as soft as this. As gentle as this, even when they felt as strongly as they did.
Reluctantly, he takes the opportunity for breath he was given; quick moments, that he just as willingly gives back, in favor of more affection to share. And even if Mettaton couldn't taste him (and that hint of come between them had mostly faded, but he didn't think he was imagining it), there was another pleasure in remembering that he could at least feel the heat in their kiss, the warmth of their lips together- and with it, the softness of his own.
Softness that his own body had plenty of, and when it meant he could meld and give way to Mettaton's firmness, it felt the perfect match.]
I said that I would be... accommodating.
[Even if he had to fight to do it... even if it hurt. But for as giving as his body was in most places, he felt especially hard in one way- and with the way Mettaton pushed closer to him (inspiring of a gasp, a squirm into his arms), he knew his lover was aware of it.]
But- won't you help, to see me off a- another time?
[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...
[Unconscious and immediate is the way he groans as he's pushed harder into the bed- and Mettaton, harder into his body at the same time. It grew harder to squirm this way, while being so restricted, but every bit of motion was worth fighting for. Even if Mettaton couldn't pound into him as on old occasions, the memory and imagining of it in itself was a powerful source of arousal. And when it could be paired with the very real sensation of his lover's cock within him, it wasn't even frustrating that he couldn't have that specific thing.
Emet-Selch wouldn't claim that Mettaton had a wilder libido... but he would complain about it, even when it ever incited him to keep up to whatever degree his body was capable of. Which was plenty, at the moment, given that he'd only climaxed once so far. The rawness of his body was an unrelated issue, and so long as he remained aroused it was endurable.
More than that, it was worthwhile because it came with the comfort of being full, of having something ground into him so inescapably to have him gasping. Writhing gets him nowhere but feeling that much more impaled, so he writhes more.]
I can feel it. [He whispers; there was little chance of him doing more than that, between hitches of breath and strokes of lips together.] Your dedication to this... to me.
[And he treasured both of those things in him. And he expected, of course, for Mettaton to remain hard enough past release, whether it was due to the composition of his body or some inherent Mettatonness. Hard enough to keep him feeling stuffed, to be an extra thrill to be wrapped around (even if he enjoyed no less the process of feeling him get as soft as he ever did, before hardening up again while still in his body). Hard enough to work him into his own completion.
Though the mage felt that he was plentily firm himself, swollen enough to impress, and something that he increasingly wanted relief from. There was only so much he could thrust, could push and rub his erection to Mettaton's unforgiving body, but he claims what direct stimulation he could manage. Milky precome leaks from him, renewing a little of the slickness that existed between their bodies, and with each beat of his heart he throbbed.
Breath quick against Mettaton's lips, it grew harder to kiss him when every push, every tense of his own body interrupted him with another sound he couldn't keep from making. It was even harder to collect himself enough to reply in words as he tries to knead himself on his length, a feeling irresistible.]
[If they were with the proper lubricant there wasn't any doubt that MTT would fulfill his desires and pound him hard into the mattress. It's what he wants too, even while he's basking in the afterglow of orgasm, and the way he curls around Emet-Selch's form is evidence of it.
Yet with his upper body he presses; with every thrust, he pushes against him, Emet-Selch's cock gliding slickly against glass. Mettaton exhales shakily against the other man's lips, body so tense that an unknowing onlooker might guess that he was searching for his own release as well. And each time he feels Emet-Selch grinding into his lap, squeezing around the tip of his cock and pressing into it to take the edge off, Mettaton can't help but moan against his cheek while Emet-Selch speaks his plea.
A reward: imitating the exact rolls of Emet-Selch's hips, the way he fought for movement just so that he could press even harder against the robot, Mettaton tries to knead Emet-Selch down hard into the bed, rubbing firmly into his lover's body, curving with each thrust. A low, guttural groan escapes his throat and he grips down on Emet-Selch, sinking deep between his legs.]
Hades... Ah... [He kisses him sloppily, as sloppy as he can without saliva.] Come for me, my dearest! Let me feel you come undone...!
[And let him feel him tense and squeeze, sensations he's spurred toward such great anticipation of that Mettaton wasn't sure he'd be able to simply... not sport another erection after this. The way the memory pools low and hard and sudden would dizzy him if he had blood to sink into his cock, and the overall warmth that hugs his cock, the limbs that wrap around him with maddened need... Mettaton groans against skin, similarly too sloppy to manage any coordinated kisses.
He feels still the heat of his ejaculate, and that groan veers low, possessive, tension alight in his body as he all but pounds Emet-Selch into the mattress. Since drawing out and pushing in wasn't viable, though, the robot kneads himself in place, strokes becoming that bit more robust given the seed he can use to glide along with. But ultimately he presses deeper, stuffing himself so fully that he can feel the weight of his balls squeezed against Emet-Selch's body—a much-desired outcome, to be completely impaled. Mettaton couldn't deny the lust it filled him with to claim Emet-Selch, and to feel him leak liberally against his front, as though milked by the thick cock he has to squeeze around.]
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Softer feelings to accompany such a base combining, as Mettaton barely removes himself from Emet-Selch's body while stirring himself deep. And with every spurt of seed Emet-Selch was that bit slicker... too late, of course, given that he'd already be raw.
But in the moment he had much to give, and Emet-Selch was evidently overeager to take. He squeezes 'round his erection in a way that felt as though demanding, and the idol grins madly to give all he had, collapsing close to the soft body beneath him. It's no small wonder that Emet-Selch sounds considerably breathless as he attempts to capture his lips in a kiss. By considerably breathless, Mettaton knew it was because he really did need the breath, while he did not... but it was all the same to him, these signs of affect.
Emet-Selch's hand departs from his sensitive side, but he feels next the warmth of his arm wrapped around his torso instead. With a short tremble he curls, collapses, comes apart as he slackens in his lover's arms, a low, shaky groan the sound that accompanies his final good thrust, whatever heat he presently had to give squeezed from his cock. Against Emet-Selch's lips, Mettaton's part, and he nuzzles him sweetly.]
H... Hades...
[His name needs to be said, an answer to the times Emet-Selch uttered his name between moans. He squirms his way between thighs, and stuffs himself down to the root, not wanting to surrender his spot just because he'd finished his orgasm.]
Ohhh, you d... you do me in...
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As he was still erect himself, after all, and he could imagine no better way at the moment, than to find relief with the other man still inside him.
But he's not at the point of needing to beg for that either, for permission or assistance- nor is he thinking much about it. It was a warm ache, a quick throb that he knew was arousal and very physical wanting, but it was easy enough to not concentrate on, when he had all of Mettaton's own responses to climax to witness and take. Clutching, kneading at his body as the robot collapses in his arms, his hold adjusts again to wrap around him as much as he could.
To trap him there; to keep him from escaping. Even if Mettaton could, if he chose to, robotic strength more potent than anything that Emet-Selch possessed, the mage latches tight. It was an attempt at restriction he wouldn't think to ease; it was a request in its unconscious way, to not be left. There were a number of reasons why he might be moved to cling so tightly to him, but the want to keep him at his side might be greatest of all.
Shivering, he groans into Mettaton's nuzzles, answering them with no less ardor, especially at the sound of his name, the effort it must have taken to say it as clearly as that. And to express further the pleasure he must have just experienced. It was a rush in its own right, to feel his lover undone in this way, and sharply appealing.
Appealing too, was the way he kept himself lodged tight, pushed close so that they were as flush as could be, Mettaton stuffed completely into a body that welcomed him (if not without some quarreling, some rawness). Even if he weren't hard, it would've appealed terribly, and Emet-Selch kisses him as firmly as he could, with swollen, damp lips.]
You gave so much... I can feel it.
[And it eased more in him than he thought it would, to have that reassurance, that very tangible sensation.]
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And warmth that reaches his heart as Emet-Selch wraps himself around his body. He was being caught, and Mettaton not only didn't mind, but encouraged it. He smiles, an airy giggle as he blissfully pushes into his grasp, encouraging this entrapment of his body. He wouldn't be using his robotic strength this time, when he wanted to badly to let Emet-Selch claim him as his prize. His lips part around the mage's moan, wishing to swallow up his voice as he trembles, succumbing to his embrace as wholly as he could—even crushing him into the mattress in the process.]
I can't help myself. You provoke a lot out of me.
[His voice is pitched soft, a gentle utterance against lips that needed to be kissed. And he does, closing that bit of distance to lock lips, an interruption of Emet-Selch's capacity for breath—all replaced with a low, nearly predatory hum. That he'd still be hungry for him even after his recent orgasm should be expected, he thought. He is easily provoked by him, after all.
The most he does, though, is stuff himself deep inside of Emet-Selch and wriggle his hips, showing off the depth and heat he's achieved. His release left behind, his manner is proud while he tugs the smaller man against his crotch once more before moving his hands, fingers dragging up his sides on their way to his shoulders. With a sigh, Mettaton cuddles Emet-Selch firmly.]
Do you like this? All of... this, that you've given me.
[From the fullness of his cock, the rigidness of it, the size, the load he could provide—and everything else, from the supple silicone that made up his hips, to his newfound ability to feel temperature. Mettaton himself? Obviously spellbound, impressed and in love with it all as he shudders close to Emet-Selch's body.]
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That there was the consequence of being secured himself, kept so snug against the mattress that he was compressed into it, that was a pleasure too. There usually was, in being restricted, restrained, unable to move from his taller mate's grasp. Though he disliked the way he'd gotten here, Emet-Selch was entirely taken by his place underneath the other man now, and would be resentful instead to lose it.
Not that he thought there was any chance of him losing much of anything, when everything about his husband's behavior (and their extensive history together), spoke of a maintained interest, no matter his recent climax. Which could have set his heart speeding if it weren't already quick, his body already alight with its own interest. He shivered nonetheless, not fighting the way his lips, his breath were each captured by the monster- and his attention with it, his focus centered utterly on Mettaton.
And his body remained understandably responsive to him, reactive to that press of hips, the breathless noise he makes one of simple wanting. A twitch of his body upward is its own request, and a showing that he would take everything Mettaton had to give, no matter how thick he was. But gods, that depth, that heat....
The stiff cock he had nudging up against the other man was one direct way of showing off that Emet-Selch liked this. Not that he needed an erection to do that, or to enjoy himself, but it was a means he had no control over either.]
Can't you tell?
[He echoes his sigh- or tries to, so near his lips, as his body shifts and tries to stretch underneath him. It amounts mostly to squeezing the idol with his limbs (and inevitably around his cock), before relenting. Despite continuing to be pent up, aroused and wanting and unrelieved, some other part of him was relaxed. It was no particular surprise; he had Mettaton's length fully inside of him, had felt him come just like this. Something that had been missing from their lives had been righted (if not without some pain, but that was a minor detail ultimately). Everything... worked, and he had the proof inside him that his lover could know the pleasure that he deserved.
(Taste (and saliva) and smell would still have to be recovered, but though he missed knowing that Mettaton could experience him in those ways, it wasn't as bitter of a miss as his lack of sensation had been.)]
...I love it.
[That Mettaton would know both his warmth and his softness, reflected and given over to him along the whole length of his body, and even inside him- it made him feel that little bit less alone.]
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But he was still basking in the feeling right now, and his body was eager to remain excitable as ever. Emet-Selch's still hard, a truth he knew too vividly... He could only feel it against his body, and Mettaton hums as he attempts to press deeper between Emet-Selch's legs, just to feel that bulge of heat.
... The reality that Mettaton would be just like this, unable to disguise his arousal, was a tantalizing thing. He shuddered right back to consider it, while Emet-Selch stretches against his body- arching his back, and indeed squeezing tight around his cock. Mettaton gasps again, a breath expelled against the smaller man's lips.]
... I'm so glad. So... pleased.
[His voice itself is honey, words nearly slurred together in his relaxed overcome. Even though he was warmly aroused, the sort that accompanied his ejaculation, he felt comfortably possessed and possessive- and proud of the man he called his husband, stubborn and determined and dedicated as he is. The affection he felt for Emet-Selch left him feeling so, so vulnerable... and he loved it, as he takes him into a softer kiss.
A brush of lips, a sweet taste of each other's heat. Their sentiments warm, and bodies warmer, their very hearts embodied by both. Sex between them was no mere physical affair, so much of their selves tangled up in every touch and look... Mettaton curls around Emet-Selch, his kisses lingering and steady- enough to rob him of breath, and enough to give him a chance just to reclaim it and surrender it again.]
I can feel it all. How hot I am inside of you... And oh, H... How soft you are, around me.
[... It didn't help that Mettaton was so often hard more than anything else. Made of metal, sure, but also terribly excitable, enough that his body remained provoked and ready to be fucked, to give his husband the pleasure he sought.]
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(Especially as he knew they'd be lured into sex as a constant thing, and keeping the damage manageable would be a line they'd have to tred carefully. He wasn't satisfied at being fucked like this once- but he was reassured enough by it in the moment to not demand more of it for now. Just holding him this way was something to savor.)
That Mettaton would remain aroused though, would be provoked anyway, Emet-Selch could sigh over it. Affectionate and exasperated both (and attracted not least, his own cock throbbing at the idea of knowing of his lover's interest in him), he moans instead, soft and low, to follow the robot's reply. Of course he'd react to being clenched around, to being held somewhere snug and warm, and so recently made significantly hotter by the addition of semen.
No less important, though, were the emotional appeals made, the willingness to be vulnerable in the ways of wanting and weakness. Not without difficulties... but that was how they'd always been together, and he felt as though he could melt into a kiss as soft as this. As gentle as this, even when they felt as strongly as they did.
Reluctantly, he takes the opportunity for breath he was given; quick moments, that he just as willingly gives back, in favor of more affection to share. And even if Mettaton couldn't taste him (and that hint of come between them had mostly faded, but he didn't think he was imagining it), there was another pleasure in remembering that he could at least feel the heat in their kiss, the warmth of their lips together- and with it, the softness of his own.
Softness that his own body had plenty of, and when it meant he could meld and give way to Mettaton's firmness, it felt the perfect match.]
I said that I would be... accommodating.
[Even if he had to fight to do it... even if it hurt. But for as giving as his body was in most places, he felt especially hard in one way- and with the way Mettaton pushed closer to him (inspiring of a gasp, a squirm into his arms), he knew his lover was aware of it.]
But- won't you help, to see me off a- another time?
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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...
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Emet-Selch wouldn't claim that Mettaton had a wilder libido... but he would complain about it, even when it ever incited him to keep up to whatever degree his body was capable of. Which was plenty, at the moment, given that he'd only climaxed once so far. The rawness of his body was an unrelated issue, and so long as he remained aroused it was endurable.
More than that, it was worthwhile because it came with the comfort of being full, of having something ground into him so inescapably to have him gasping. Writhing gets him nowhere but feeling that much more impaled, so he writhes more.]
I can feel it. [He whispers; there was little chance of him doing more than that, between hitches of breath and strokes of lips together.] Your dedication to this... to me.
[And he treasured both of those things in him. And he expected, of course, for Mettaton to remain hard enough past release, whether it was due to the composition of his body or some inherent Mettatonness. Hard enough to keep him feeling stuffed, to be an extra thrill to be wrapped around (even if he enjoyed no less the process of feeling him get as soft as he ever did, before hardening up again while still in his body). Hard enough to work him into his own completion.
Though the mage felt that he was plentily firm himself, swollen enough to impress, and something that he increasingly wanted relief from. There was only so much he could thrust, could push and rub his erection to Mettaton's unforgiving body, but he claims what direct stimulation he could manage. Milky precome leaks from him, renewing a little of the slickness that existed between their bodies, and with each beat of his heart he throbbed.
Breath quick against Mettaton's lips, it grew harder to kiss him when every push, every tense of his own body interrupted him with another sound he couldn't keep from making. It was even harder to collect himself enough to reply in words as he tries to knead himself on his length, a feeling irresistible.]
I need- I need to- you....
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Yet with his upper body he presses; with every thrust, he pushes against him, Emet-Selch's cock gliding slickly against glass. Mettaton exhales shakily against the other man's lips, body so tense that an unknowing onlooker might guess that he was searching for his own release as well. And each time he feels Emet-Selch grinding into his lap, squeezing around the tip of his cock and pressing into it to take the edge off, Mettaton can't help but moan against his cheek while Emet-Selch speaks his plea.
A reward: imitating the exact rolls of Emet-Selch's hips, the way he fought for movement just so that he could press even harder against the robot, Mettaton tries to knead Emet-Selch down hard into the bed, rubbing firmly into his lover's body, curving with each thrust. A low, guttural groan escapes his throat and he grips down on Emet-Selch, sinking deep between his legs.]
Hades... Ah... [He kisses him sloppily, as sloppy as he can without saliva.] Come for me, my dearest! Let me feel you come undone...!
[And let him feel him tense and squeeze, sensations he's spurred toward such great anticipation of that Mettaton wasn't sure he'd be able to simply... not sport another erection after this. The way the memory pools low and hard and sudden would dizzy him if he had blood to sink into his cock, and the overall warmth that hugs his cock, the limbs that wrap around him with maddened need... Mettaton groans against skin, similarly too sloppy to manage any coordinated kisses.
He feels still the heat of his ejaculate, and that groan veers low, possessive, tension alight in his body as he all but pounds Emet-Selch into the mattress. Since drawing out and pushing in wasn't viable, though, the robot kneads himself in place, strokes becoming that bit more robust given the seed he can use to glide along with. But ultimately he presses deeper, stuffing himself so fully that he can feel the weight of his balls squeezed against Emet-Selch's body—a much-desired outcome, to be completely impaled. Mettaton couldn't deny the lust it filled him with to claim Emet-Selch, and to feel him leak liberally against his front, as though milked by the thick cock he has to squeeze around.]