[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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no subject
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.]
no subject
(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?
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...
no subject
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....
no subject
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.]