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Anthony hadn’t been to anything like this in a while. Frankly, he was much too old for it, but he could pick out some individuals in the sea of people that came close to or even exceeded his age.
The real problem however, wasn’t the party that was very much past his time, but instead that Anthony couldn’t handle his alcohol like he used to.
Five shots of the stuff that this party was providing wouldn’t have even had him sweating when he was in his prime. But now, with a few more years under his belt and a dull but persistent ache settling more and more in his joints by the day, he was starting to feel the inebriation much sooner.
God, his head pounded and his brow was moist. And yet, he was having fun. Despite all the shortcomings that befell him, Anthony felt young again. Swaying with the music that most likely called for much more dramatic dancing, letting himself unwind. The stress had been building up recently, new competition popping up by the second, a never ending struggle to cling to relevance.
The weight of his problems seemed to return to his shoulders when said “new competition”, climbed onto the bar counter as the song changed, seemingly preparing something.
Mettaton, a new actor and performer that had risen to stardom not too long ago. His chest squeezed just looking at the man, young and virile, everything Anthony himself wasn’t anymore. God. He’d never even interacted with the guy and yet the pettiness that twisted in his gut made him audibly (though likely only to himself) huff.
He knew of Mettaton, actually that was an understatement he was using to preserve his own ego. Mettaton was basically the new him, but better. He seemed to be on every billboard, headlining in every important modeling campaign and securing lead roles left and right.
You couldn’t look around without seeing an ad for the latest movie Mettaton had starred in, his perfectly done up features following you wherever you chose to wander. Everyone seemed to be so enamored, so caught up in his spell, but Anthony knew the truth. Mettaton was new and vane and likely to bore of stardom or make some career ending mistake.
‘Big shots’ like him always did.
He would say something insensitive, yell at the wrong assistant who happened to have a prominent social media following, or reveal himself as the true egoist Anthony just knew he was. One way or another, his instincts, although likely biased, told him that pretty young things like this don’t last long.
People wanted something timeless! Sustainable! Not someone with a snarky attitude but a smile bright enough to get away with it. He knew. He’s known people like this before, plenty of them, in fact.
But no matter what he thought, Mettaton was “hot shit”, and that meant when he drunkenly climbed on top of the bar, every single person in that room turned to him with their full attention. And though shamefully, Anthony did too.
Mettaton must have been much drunker than him to even have the gall to do this, but when he opened his perfectly glossed lips to begin singing, his voice came out as angelic as Anthony guessed it always did. And his movements, although somewhat sluggish, with the amount of alcohol he consumed clearly making a difference, were mesmerizing all the same.
Anthony hated to admit it, but the thought that bubbled into his mind immediately, was that Mettaton was just unfairly beautiful.
His pale skin was glistening with a thin sheen of sweat under the low light of the room. This glow Mettaton alone seemed to possess, made him look unreal, constructed. He supposed that might not have been too far off of an accusation. Was he metal plated? Or possibly covered in a silvery powder? Would his skin taste odd? Like licking a cut and tasting blood?
He of course was not the only person who had come to this conclusion, judging by the amount of people cheering, but he deduced that he was the only one who harbored such pure jealously along with it.
Mettaton was the shiny new industry toy that anybody with half a brain wanted to get their hands on. Anthony found himself inventing how Mettaton (someone he’d never spoken to) would react to this information. Because the way he was carrying himself, it was obvious he knew.
His movements were so calculated but flowed gracefully nonetheless. It was like Mettaton was a doll with a pull string, motions so practiced but only triggered when someone was watching and readily tugging at him. He was fluid yet incredibly fake, irritating.
He imagined what Mettaton’s expression would be if a group of fans announced their undying compassion to him. He’d be smug, for sure. So assured that any intelligent life would have to come to the same conclusion.
These thoughts only served to make Anthony angrier. His fists clenching to the point where he was sure his knuckles were white. And yet as the anger bubbled in his chest and the contempt settled into his brow bone, he found himself relieved that his abnormal height was allowing him a clear view over the rowdy room.
Mettaton had his hands in his hair, but they didn’t stay there for long. His digits parted from the jet black strands to caress his own body, gaging more screams from the provisional audience as he readily explored his own thighs.
Anthony used to have people scream for him. Maybe not for a display as vulgar as this, but didn’t that prove how much better he was? He didn’t need to parade around a perfect body with ample curves to garner attention like Mettaton did. Anthony used his wit to draw in a crowd, while Mettaton abused the power of long legs, amplified by a dramatic pair of pumps.
He found himself drifting toward the makeshift stage that Mettaton had commandeered. For what reason? His brain didn’t supply an answer to that.
He just.. needed to be closer.
His height allowed him to push through the crowd pretty effectively, wading through the people until he was right under Mettaton’s dancing form.
God his outfit was, well, immodest was a nice way to put it, but slutty would probably be a more apt term. A dangerous combination of incredibly low-rise and sinfully tight black pants with a loose cropped shirt, showing off an obscene amount of midriff and even a peak of his v-line.
Anthony gulped.
Pulling the ensemble together was a bright-pink pair of heels, five inches at least from what he could tell. The heel was incredibly thin and looked unstable. He was unsure how the man was managing to stay upright in them when they looked like they were about to snap.
And as soon as that thought crossed Anthony’s mind, like he had unwillingly manifested it, the heel of Mettaton’s right shoe broke off, sending him stumbling back in drunken surprise, unable to catch his balance he fell straight off of the counter. The pull string doll was tugged too hard.
Now, if the counter was any higher, Anthony was sure this would have been absolute murder on his back, but he managed to catch Mettaton in his arms with minimal pain to his spine.
Peoples gasps were quickly drowned out by a painfully loud song coming on and the hired bartender announcing last call.
Mettaton had let out a squeak when he landed in Anthony’s arms, but he was currently silent.
Anthony could feel the dull heat of the man’s bare back against his skin, as he had previously rolled the sleeves of his button up. Mettaton was just staring at him, lips parted in a perpetual silent gasp, eyebrows so high Anthony almost didn’t catch the piercing peaking out from under the mans hair.
“Oh my god. This is so embarrassing” the younger man quietly slurred, never breaking the eye contact.
“Oh uh I’m sorry, I’ll- I’ll put you down now.” Anthony was about to place him on the floor but quickly remembered the broken shoe and helped Mettaton sit on a bar stool, instead. “Are you alright?” He continued, all previous contempt leaving his foggy brain in favor of worry and some other emotion he couldn’t pinpoint.
Mettaton, still shocked and probably wasted, just sat there for a few seconds. He blinked a few times and then a smile formed on his face.
“Thank you so much, darling. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened, uh- if you hadn’t been there to catch me, I mean.” He giggled, only stumbling over his words slightly but the drunkenness was still evident to Anthony, who was questioning how a scare like that hadn’t sobered him up even a little.
“Oh n-no problem! Really, I.. it was nothing.” He mentally cursed how much he was stuttering.
“Nonsense darling! You might’ve just saved my life,” Mettaton then grabbed Anthony’s hand, dragging it to his chest. “Can you feel how fast my heart is beating? It almost jumped out of my chest, I swear” he let out a breathy laugh.
Anthony was frozen in place, his hand pressed in between slender fingers and a warm chest. Mettaton was right, his heartbeat was like a rabbits, strong and quick against his fingers.
Mettaton sighed. “At least this isn’t something I have to pin on my clumsiness,” he said gesturing to his broken shoe, letting Anthony’s hand drop back to his side.
“Oh um, y-yeah! Probably something you should uh, take up with the shoe brand, instead?” Mettaton snickered at that, nodding his head through drunken giggles. Anthony refused to look at Mettaton, his eyes darting everywhere but the man to keep whatever he was feeling at bay. Something was clearly up, because he was definitely not this funny.
“Can I ask your name, dear?”
Ah. Of course.
Why would Mettaton, this shiny new star, know who he was.? Anthony Tenna was a thing of the past, a washed up has-been who held no significance in anyone’s mind. Especially not the mind of someone so quick to rise to fame as Mettaton. He was silent for a second before begrudgingly deciding to answer.
“It’s Ant-“
“Oh where are my manners darling! I must buy you a drink before they stop serving, to thank you!” Mettaton cut him off before he could even introduce himself, his smile once again shining, his eyes filling with something Anthony couldn’t quite read.
Mettaton swiveled around on the bar stool, slightly standing on his good foot and bending himself over the counter to flag down the bartender (who Anthony could imagine probably wasn’t happy about Mettaton’s previous display).
Anthony could let himself stare now that the other man wasn’t looking at him. His neck was slender and the curve of his back was addictive. Anthony’s eyes followed that curve with hunger, his gaze coming to rest on the exposed back dimples that were seemingly begging for him to place his thumbs on. He of course resisted.
He snapped to attention when Mettaton finally waved over the bartender.
“Yes sir.?” The man said with exhaustion, Mettaton looked back at Anthony expectantly.
“Oh! Uh, just a scotch.. please?”
“Your finest scotch then! And a Long Island iced tea!” Mettaton yelled to the man with inebriated excitement that the bartender was clearly in no mood to reciprocate. Like Mettaton needed more alcohol in his system, he grimaced.
Once the man walked away, Mettaton turned his head to him again. His actions were slow, no doubt because of the alcohol, but they were also in a way calculated. Like he was trying to extract a specific reaction with the way he moved his chin over his shoulder while keeping his elbows secure on the bar. He patted the stool next to him with his hand before retracting.
“Come darling, sit please!” He asked with a singsong voice, as if beckoning a dog. Anthony didn’t know whether to blush or be upset. Both were fine, he thought as he took his seat next to the other man.
Mettaton was silent until the drinks came, once they did he took a long sip from the straw and turned back to look at him with hooded eyes. “Are you having fun here, honey?”
Anthony couldn’t help but notice his obsessive use of pet names, but answered anyway.
“I suppose I am, but it seems a lot of people are starting to lose interest.” He gestured to the people leaving the area, most likely because the bar had stopped serving a few minutes after they had procured their drinks. “Are you?” Anthony asked.
“Oh well maybe I am in the location sure, but it’s you I’m intrigued in, now.” Mettaton purred, his tone implying where this conversation was going.
“Oh my! Well that’s uh, good to hear, I guess?” Mettaton smiled and took another sip of his drink before speaking again, “I’m glad, you know.” He turned back to Anthony, looking up at him with faux innocence in his eyes. “Glad that you were the one to catch me.” He looked away again, possibly bashful, but Anthony couldn’t imagine that was the case for someone so drunk.
“As am I.” Why did he say that? God WHY did he say that?? It just slipped out but it sounded much too adult for what he meant. He backtracked quickly, “I mean, I’m glad you weren’t hurt! Yeah! That could have been a nasty fall, maybe some more practical shoes would benefit you, haha!” He played up his pg TV voice to hopefully turn down the steaminess of the conversation.
But Mettaton fought back with full force. “I don’t need practical footwear when I have you.” He smiled softly, pretending like that wasn’t a fatal blow.
“That’s uh- well.” He swallowed his words in favor of taking a swig of his drink. Woah! That was potent, definitely top shelf stuff. Not watered down either? Guess that’s what Mettaton’s name did for you.
Mettaton let him finish his drink before he slid his cool hand over Anthony’s, lightly caressing his fingers. “Darling.. let’s get out of here, okay?” Anthony gulped down the rest of his drink, sufficiently buzzed.
“Where would we go?” He asked dumbly. Mettaton laughed because of course he did, the answer to that question was obvious.
“Wont you help me back to my place? I can’t exactly walk around with no shoes on.” Mettaton ignored and answered his stupid question all at the same time.
The alcohol had seeped into Anthony’s brain, successfully clouding his judgment and raising his libido. “I guess I have to, right?” He chuckled.
Anthony stood, putting out a hand for Mettaton to take. “Could you assist me to the front, so sorry for the inconvenience.” He didn’t look sorry at all, a hidden smugness behind his eyes, knowing that his wish was Anthony’s command.
“Um, did you want me to carry you..?” Anthony asked, trying his best to be polite when he really just wanted to get out of here.
“Oh no! Don’t be silly, I couldn’t ask you to carry me two times in one night! Haha, just let me lean on you, if that’s alright.” So Anthony came to stand on Mettaton’s right, offering the man support with his torso and a firm arm wrapped around his waist, long fingers coming to rest on his hip bone.
“Such a gentleman.” The younger man said, leaning his weight into Anthony’s left side. Now, Mettaton wasn’t short by any means, Anthony was just abnormally tall. Yet he was impressed with how Mettaton had managed to reach a few inches above his shoulder, a feat many others hadn’t achieved.
His waist was so pleasantly warm, and the skin that Anthony currently and previously had contact with was so soft he knew that Mettaton must have factored it into his beauty regiment. His hair, despite the manhandling it had gone through during the man’s little performance, was perfectly styled and covering his right eye, so Anthony couldn’t see much of his face from this angle. Mettaton’s expression was obscured to him, but he could somehow sense the look he adorned even without a clear view.
- - -
The cab ride was painful, Mettatons warmth pressed into his side the whole time, the promise of more contact imminent. His knees were cramped behind the drivers seat, he wished he could’ve sat in the front to be perfectly honest but that would not only be ungentlemanly but also impossible with the man clinging to him.
When they arrived, Mettaton fumbled with his keys at the front stoop for a considerable amount of time, clearly he was more impaired now after another drink that was practically all alcohol. “Haha I’m sorry I forgot my contacts tonight.. silly me!” he muttered, squinting at the keyhole before finally unlocking the door.
Anthony couldn’t get a word out before Mettaton was on him, wrapping lean arms around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss. The younger man’s lips were soft and hot against his own, Mettaton was petting his hair, stroking the back of his neck like a cat.
Anthony’s lips trailed down Mettatons face, starting from his lips, taking a break to nibble on his jaw and then finally landing on his neck. He sucked the smooth skin, leaving little bite marks across the column of his throat. He bit into the junction between Mettatons neck and shoulder, coaxing a moan out of the shorter man.
“Ah- darling! No visible marks please.?” Mettaton choked out, followed by a small noise.
“Oh um..” Anthony stood back a bit to observe. He took note of multiple bruises forming on Mettatons pale skin, and a large bite mark at the bottom of his neck. “That ship might have sailed already, I’m sorry-“ he began to apologize until Mettaton cut him off.
“Well if the damage is already done, then please.. just.. don’t stop.” he breathed out, clenching his eyes shut with a shudder.
“God, you’re perfect.”
They managed to stumble their way to Mettatons bedroom, though getting caught in the doorway during a particularly rough session of making out.
Once in proximity to it, Mettaton pushed Anthony onto the bed with a dull thud. He kicked off his heels and shimmied off his tight pants, making a show out of peeling the fabric off himself, waggling his hips in a way that was just so tantalizing. He continued, exposing an expanse of gorgeous pale skin and a pair of scandalous underwear that hugged his hips perfectly.
With that Mettaton climbed onto the bed, making his way up Anthony’s long legs until he could hug the mans hips with his thighs, successfully caging him in. Mettaton beckoned Anthony closer, the older man immediately obeying and their lips met in a wet kiss. Mettaton was going easy on him, taking it slow and only applying small amounts of pressure when he bit Anthony’s lip.
Anthony appreciated the consideration but he wasn’t opposed to things getting a little harsher. So without warning, he escalated the kiss by shoving his tongue into Mettaton‘s mouth, using his height as an advantage to loom over the younger man so he couldn’t push back to regain control.
Ah, a tongue piercing. He liked that.
This display pulled a moan from Mettaton’s throat which wouldve made him smile if his mouth wasn’t so preoccupied.
Mettaton’s hips ground down onto his crotch, causing him to grab the sheets from the surprise shock of pleasure that shot through him. His other hand pawed at Mettaton’s waist, he didn’t really know why but he just craved more contact. Mettaton’s hands, similarly, were making themselves busy. He was undoing the buttons of Anthony’s dress shirt with swift movements.
When he started to struggle with the last few buttons, Anthony removed his hands from Mettaton’s body to assist the removal of his own shirt. This, in turn, earned a whine from Mettaton at the loss of contact which made Anthony laugh into the kiss.
When the buttons were finally all undone, Anthony let the younger man push the sleeves off his arms and finally remove the cloth completely. Mettaton’s hands quickly came up to stroke Anthony’s chest, rubbing his digits through the hair that grew there. His own hands snaked their way back to Mettaton’s body, sinking from his hips to fondle the available fat of his bottom. Squishy, he thought. Mettaton must work out.
He broke away to get a good look at the younger man. Sweat was gathering on Mettaton’s brow, making his piercing gleam. His lips were similarly glossy, a mix of lipstick and saliva created a cute mess on his face. Anthony supposed that must have been all over him, too.
Mettaton’s expression was the best, though. His eyes half lidded and his mouth pulled into a wobbly smirk, clearly planning something. He tugged up his shirt to wipe off his mouth, but hesitated before continuing to wipe off Anthony’s.
“I quite like that color on you, darling.” Mock sadness in his tone as Anthony used the back of his wrist to rub off the remaining pigment from his mouth.
To Anthony’s surprise, Mettaton pushed him back till he was flat with the mattress again. Moving just a tad bit back until their crotches were flush. Anthony could feel the heat emanating from Mettaton through his slacks.
Without warning Mettaton placed his hands back on Anthony’s chest for leverage and began grinding their bodies together.
“Aha, I can feel how excited you are darling.” Mettaton’s voice had a sultry tone to it, making Anthony blush more than he already was. “Let me help these off of you.” Mettaton then unzipped his pants, grasping at the hem and tugging them down. He had to lift his hips to fully take them off, disconnecting their bodies and pulling a whine from Anthony’s throat.
“Eager, are we?” Mettaton hummed, Anthony was too out of it to be embarrassed by this point, instead just nodding frantically. And with that confirmation, Mettaton began removing his underwear, revealing his dripping cunt. After throwing his underwear into some corner of the room, he sat himself back down on Anthony’s lap.
Anthony could feel the wet heat leaking from Mettaton along with his own precum staining the front of his boxers. He shivered at the contact.
Mettaton leaned down, just for a moment, to whisper in his ear. “Won’t you help stretch me open dear, please?” When he sat back again he was using two fingers to spread his opening, like he was showing Anthony a preview of what was to come.
“I- uh, of course!” God he couldn’t fucking speak, but Mettaton seemed to like that, he was snickering at Anthony’s awkwardness.
He raised his hand, only shaking slightly, and moved it to Mettaton’s entrance. Ever so slowly he inserted one finger inside the younger man, stopping halfway to check Mettaton’s expression for any sign of a problem. Mettaton’s visible eye was closed tight and he was biting his bottom lip, he cracked his eye open slightly to check why Anthony had stopped.
“What’s the holdup?” He asked impatiently, a little demanding.
“Oh! Just making sure you were okay! I’ll keep going!”
“Tch, one finger isn’t gonna make me-“ Mettaton cut himself off with a loud whine, craning his neck as Anthony quickly shoved the rest of his finger inside, along with a second one.
“Ohmygod I’m so sorry, are you-” He was about to retract his hand when Mettaton grabbed his wrist, holding him there.
“N-no! Keep going! Please..” he trailed off, squirming against the base of Anthony’s hand and breathing heavily.
The older man nodded curtly and continued pumping his hand in and out of Mettaton. Slick ran down his hand, pooling in his palm as he added another finger, earning a series of moans from Mettaton, all varying in length and volume.
Mettaton was grinding down onto his palm, which Anthony took as a sign to thumb at the little bud above the man’s slit, causing the clenching around his fingers to increase tenfold. But the real kicker was when he curled his fingers slightly and Mettaton downright screamed, grabbing Anthony’s wrist and stopping his movement abruptly.
“Y-you.. need to s-stop.” He panted for a beat before continuing, soothing Anthony’s anxieties with his next words and a wobbly grin. “I’m gonna cum on your fingers if you don’t, and I want to… save that, for this.” He fondled the bulge in Anthony’s boxers, making his point.
He wordlessly obeyed, pulling his fingers away and taking a moment to admire how Mettaton’s cunt clenched around nothing, like it was begging for him. Without even a second thought he stuck his soaked fingers into his mouth, licking them clean, watching as Mettaton’s eyes widened along with his smile.
“Do you like the taste, hon?” Bending over to kiss Anthony before he could respond. Of course he liked it, what kind of question was that? One that Mettaton knew the answer to, he guessed.
They pulled apart, Anthony reluctant to let go but also desperate for stimulation. Mettaton worked his hands under the hem of the older man’s underwear, pulling them down until his cock sprung free.
Mettaton gasped, “aw, big boy..” Anthony felt a fully body shiver climb down his spine at that.
He chuckled nervously, definitely letting the praise get to his head. “haha.. you think so.?”
Mettaton hummed, pressing a finger to his chin. “Might be the biggest I’ve ever dealt with, let’s see if I can take it.” He purred, once again inflating Anthony’s ego. He wrapped a nimble hand around Anthony’s cock, slowly stroking it to spread around the precum.
He let his thumb drift over the tip, putting just the slightest amount of pressure on the slit there. His hand was so soft and his fingers were so slender, the feeling foreign but welcome.
After a few more seconds of teasing, Mettaton was clearly growing impatient with the foreplay. Anthony made sure to stop him before he forgot, “uh, do you have a condom.?”his expression sheepish, mildly embarrassed.
“Mm, just be careful, alright?” He responded before continuing, and Anthony now remembered how drunk they both really were.
Mettaton lifted his body up, using his hand to guide Anthony’s member to his cunt, slowly sinking down on the length, inch by inch. Anthony’s hands came to rest on Mettaton’s hips, stroking his sides to comfort him as he shuddered from the intrusion.
“It’s t-too much!” Mettaton cried out once he hit the halfway mark, his legs shaking as he kept himself suspended on Anthony’s cock.
Anthony gulped, “would you like to sto-“
“No!” Mettaton cut him off, “I can take it, just give me a second..” he huffed, gritting his teeth and then suddenly, Mettaton slammed himself down all the way to the hilt, dragging a joined scream from the both of them.
“W-why did you do that! That must’ve hurt?” Anthony groaned through the pleasure, not wanting to rub it in Mettaton’s face how good that felt.
“I thought it would be like ripping off a bandaid!” He hissed, clearly not comfortable with how abruptly stretched out he’d become. Anthony squeezed his hips, trying to be comforting but in the end not really knowing how to help, mind clouded by pleasure and alcohol.
“If it’s any consultation.. you’re so tight.” He breathed out with his teeth clenched together. Trying his hardest to let Mettaton move at his own pace and not buck his hips.
“You cad!” He slapped Anthony’s arm, albeit not very hard as he was still letting himself breathe through the pain. He let his arm come to rest on his lower stomach, petting at the little bulge that had become visible there. “Aww look at that, that’s you, how cute.” He hummed.
Cute isn’t the word Anthony would use, unbelievably sexy was more suitable. He could feel his length twitching inside, just by looking. The other man kept poking at it, laughing but equally enamored.
“Metta please-“ he choked out, “I can’t take much more of this..” his speech bordering on a whine.
Mettaton huffed, “alright but you have to help me out.” Anthony nodded frantically, tightening his grip on Mettaton’s hips. He would do anything, walk to the ends of the earth for just a moment more with the man, slay any beast just for a second longer wrapped up in this tight heat that was swallowing his consciousness. But he didn’t need to do any of that because Mettaton, perched high up in his lap like a deity, was willing to bless him for the small fee of helping lift his hips.
Slowly Mettaton lifted himself up, using his hands to steady himself. Anthony could feel his length slip out, already wanting to insert himself back in but he agreed in his own mind to let Mettaton set the pace, that he would only be helping. And help he did, he held Mettaton up until he deemed himself ready to come back down.
Once the younger man became adjusted to the feeling of repeated fullness, he smirked. Anthony felt a pang of fear and excitement because that look was a universal indicator of mischief. Mettaton pulled himself up until all the remained inside was the tip, then once again he slammed himself back down, setting a harsh pace.
He let Mettaton grind down onto him, before bringing him back up when he pushed on his chest. The sound of skin slapping together filled the room as their bodies moved in unison, his hips moving up to meet the man’s. He was trying to drive himself as deep as possible to touch the part in Mettaton that made him tick.
To make him scream and fall apart until all he could do was beg for more over and over. Anthony wanted to give him whatever he asked for, wanted to serve him to the best of his ability. He’d wear a collar if Mettaton asked, rip his heart out and present it on a silver platter probably. But right now that wasn’t what they were doing, that wasn’t what he wanted to focus on. Instead he wanted to focus on the version of Mettaton right in front of him, not the one holding a leash or the one eating one of his vital organs. What the actual fuck was he thinking about..?
Despite inciting the rhythm, Mettaton looked like he was barely keeping up. His eyes were constantly switching between open and shut, and for once he could see both of them as the man’s bangs had finally fallen out of his face. Anthony had to struggle through the brain fog to remind himself that this was just a fling. But that fog came with some thoughts he just couldn’t ignore, Mettaton was ethereal. Maybe it was the lighting but he could’ve sworn that the man’s right eye was just a few shades lighter than the left.
He couldn’t help but stare at it, admiring how unique Mettaton’s features were. His lashes fluttering, mascara and shadow smudged around his eyes somehow making them pop more. His lips were raw and flushed red with how much he was biting them, he would occasionally let them have a moments rest to release a moan or a whine of some sort. His nose was adorable, sniffing every few minutes making Anthony wonder if he was cold. His jaw was littered in hickeys that were slowly turning purple with time, it would be probably take a while before those wore off.
But those eyes, he couldn’t strip his gaze away from those amazing eyes. Anthony originally thought they were brown but he could tell that when the light hit them, they were just the most dazzling shades of green.
“Darlinggg..” Mettaton whined, “what’s the matter? my legs are getting tired, won’t you help me?” Anthony acknowledged the confusion but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He slid his hand up Mettatons torso, fingers catching slightly on the sweat soaked shirt that clung to his skin still, but he continued on until he reached the man’s face, cupping his cheek. Mettaton nuzzled into his hand as he continued to bounce up and down. “What is it?”
“You’re just.. so beautiful.”
“God” he laughed, his smile genuine and the sound was like an out of tune piano, Anthony loved it. It was hoarse from whimpering and maybe not the most conventional laugh but it was so charming and unique he wanted to keep it in a bottle all for himself. “You are such a sap.” Again with that laugh.
Mettaton pulled off his sweaty shirt, raising his arms above his head and concealing his face for only a brief moment but one long enough that Anthony missed it. This part of his body, now revealed, was just as beautiful as the rest of it. The slight puffiness of the jagged scars on his chest was so endearing, Anthony wanted to touch but he restrained himself.
It was so fulfilling to know that Mettaton was more than what he presented himself to be. Anthony had resented him for being so perfect but he was starting to see that the younger man had parts of himself he wasn’t proud of either, but they really did just make him all the more amazing. In a way he was upset that Mettaton had been so reductive with his own personality and persona, wishing he could’ve known about who he was before they met and well.. had sex.
Oh yeah, they were still doing that. He was snapped out of his little creepy trance by Mettaton tugging at his cheek.
“Seriously!! Are you okay? You’re so out of it. Still wasted I guess? Feel tha- WHA-” Anthony without even thinking, grabbed Mettaton’s waist and flipped them over so he was on top of the younger man.
Mettaton quickly wrapped a leg around the man’s hips, groaning at the deeper angle. “N-not letting me do all the work now, I see? Quite the gentleman.” Anthony didn’t respond, he just waited for Mettaton to get the memo to wrap his arms around his neck, which he did quickly.
He took his position with his hands grabbing Mettaton’s hips once again, his index fingers finding their way to his back so he could feel those adorable dimples, causing Mettaton to squirm a little, sending stimulation straight to his cock and reminding him what he was doing.
He pulled himself out and then slammed right back in, making the man under him scream out in pleasure. Raking his well manicured nails across Anthony’s back as the older man picked up the pace, thrusting into him like this wasn’t going to be murder on his back tomorrow. Mettaton was like a siren, his voice pulling Anthony in and making him forget about anything else. The choked out moans and tiny whimpers weren’t enough though, he wanted Mettaton to scream.
He watched as his cock slipped in and out of Mettaton’s body, thick liquid coating the surrounding area. Watching himself disappear into the other man was addictive, if Mettaton would let him, he would record it and keep it on a hard drive in his front pocket always. Okay he was crazy.
He angled his thrusts upward, trying to hit as deep as possible. That did it for sure, Mettaton basically howled at his movements. He grabbed Anthony’s bicep with a death grip so tight that he thought those long nails might puncture his skin. That was definitely true for the hand that still clung to his back, he could feel the scrapes Mettaton had given him stinging but he couldn’t care less. These were all just signs that he was being good, that he was serving Mettaton well.
“O-oh god! Oh god! Don’t stop darling please-“ he kept babbling as Anthony continued. “Oh! R-right there!” Another whine cut him off. “That’s so perfect! You’re so good for me, thank you!” Mettaton moved his arms to be draped around his neck again, pulling the older man closer until their upper halves were flush.
They met fully in a searing kiss, Mettaton whining into his mouth and biting into his bottom lip. He broke the kiss to once again start mumbling, but this time he took one of Anthony’s hands off of his hip to place it flat on his lower stomach. “C-can you feel it? Mm, you’re so deep…” and he could, he could feel himself through Mettaton’s skin, poking his own hand. Was this heaven? Had he died and gone to heaven? Heaven must have been the wet heat Mettaton was allowing him to experience, it must have been. He never wanted this to end, but he knew it would, so he just prayed to whatever was listening to give him a few more minutes trapped in that heat, if that wish was granted he’d be good forever after.
Mettaton pressed his hand down harder, interlocking their fingers. He let out a groan that trailed off into a needy whine, the man below him joining in with his own noises.
That only drove him further, Mettaton was pressing his hand down into his soft skin with an iron grip, so he had to make up for what his hand was unable to do with more movement from his hips. Earlier, when he began thrusting at this pace, Mettaton’s leg had shot up into the air out of pleasure and shock. Anthony gripped his thigh, pressing it to himself and then once again grabbing that narrow waist to secure a better grip on the man while down a hand.
He pistoned his hips into Mettaton, once again hitting that spot inside of the man that made him screech, his throat definitely raw by now. Anthony could feel the pressure in abdomen increase as the other man clenched down around him, he knew he was close and had to make sure Mettaton was as well.
He reluctantly removed his hand from Mettatons stomach, earning a sad whine from the one below him. He faltered for a second, wanting to succumb to Mettatons, and frankly his own whims. But he soldiered on to make it is as pleasurable for his lover as it was for him. Anthony moved his fingers to massage Mettaton’s clit, putting more and more pressure on it until the man was sobbing.
Mettaton threw his head back, his mouth open in a silent scream as sweat ran down the side of his face. He bucked his hips up into Anthony’s hands, rubbing the little bud harder into the rough pads of the man’s fingers. Mettaton latched onto him once more whimpering into the side of Anthony’s neck.
“Im close..” the smaller man mumbled, if it wasn’t right in his ear Anthony didn’t think he would’ve heard it.
“I-I am too..” he said without stopping his movements.
“P-please! Keep it in, leave it in me please darling pleas-“ his babbling kept up but Anthony tuned it out to think for a second, this was probably a bad idea, right? And “this” being cumming inside of famous movie star, Mettaton. Anthony’s brain just, ever so kindly, reminded him that Mettaton had no idea who he was, and yet they were treating each other like old lovers.
But now Mettaton was scratching at his back and nipping at his ear, begging for Anthony to burry himself inside of his cunt and release, and lord knows he wasn’t strong enough to say no. So he pulled the other man flush against him and continued thrusting but now at a much harder pace, which was also much sloppier and inconsistent but based on the clench of his hole and the noises leaving his lips, it would do.
“God! F-fuck, please.. I’m almost there darling!” Mettaton begged, hugging him for dear life. All it took was one more thrust and an intense press of the man’s clit and Mettaton was squeezing around him so tight his vision went white for a second.
His hips stuttered as they both hit their limit at the same time. He bit down into Mettaton’s shoulder, hard. And the younger man screamed out with a mix of pain and pleasure, one of his hands coming to tangle in Anthony’s hair, stroking the nape of his neck with deft fingers. He felt thick spurts of cum empty into Mettaton’s cunt, probably making him uncomfortably full. But if that was true he didn’t mention it, just kept tangling his fingers in Anthony’s sweaty curls.
Coming down from their high felt like an eternity, Anthony could feel himself softening inside of Mettaton, but when he looked down, he had to mentally steal himself to not get excited again. It was a total mess. Anthony hoped that Mettaton didn’t care for these sheets or owned industrial strength detergent, because they were already staining beyond belief.
Fluids leaked out around Anthony’s cock, Mettaton’s pussy was raw and red, still clenching around him slightly. He began to pull himself out but stopped when Mettaton whined and held onto him.
“Just..” he stopped to pant for a bit, Anthony waiting patiently. “J-just grant me a moment…. I’m sensitive.” He let his eyes shut finally, clearly exhausted.
Anthony slumped on top of him, letting his head rest in the crook of the man’s neck, breathing in his sweet scent. He glanced at the digital clock, ‘2:30’ stared back at him. God, when did it get that late? Anthony wasn’t used to this, drinking, going home with a stranger, fucking till late in the night. He was old, he wanted to sleep, But luckily so did Mettaton.
“You ready now?” He tried not to sound rude but he kind of wanted to put his underwear back on now.
“You’re probably the first man who’s ever asked to get out of me,” he rolled his eyes, “but yes, you can take it out.” Slowly and carefully Anthony began to remove his cock, watching as more and more cum leaked out of the man’s slit and onto the sheets. Anthony shivered as the air chilled his soaked length, he couldn’t say he didn’t mourn the loss of how warm it was inside of Mettaton.
He slowly pulled on his slightly damp boxers, taking note of the small stain adorning the front. I guess that was nothing compared to the mess between Mettaton’s legs. He heard rustling behind him and then Mettaton spoke in a soft, quiet voice.
“It’s so cold..” when Anthony turned back around Mettaton was curled in on himself, knees pressed to his chest and arms wrapped around his body. But the real kicker was what he had decided was the best thing to keep him warm.
He was wearing Anthony’s button up, which was very much too large, swallowing his frame in the fabric. Mettaton really could rock any outfit, huh?
“Just come here already, god” he demanded, face all scrunched up like it was obvious. He scooted back up on the bed, lying down and opening his arms to allow Mettaton to slot his back flush against his chest. He wrapped his arms around the younger man, pulling him closer as their breathing began to even out and synchronize as sleep drew near. Tomorrow was probably gonna suck, Mettaton would kick him out awkwardly. Probably making up a lame excuse to rush him out the door.
But that was tomorrow Anthony’s problem, and right now all he wanted to do was press his nose behind Mettaton’s ear and let sleep wash over his body.
- - -
Anthony woke up to warmth and movement, he couldn’t really discern what the sensation on his cheek was, but his first reaction to anything he was feeling at the moment was to whine about the sunlight hitting his eyes. The movement continued and only when it had pulled away from him did Anthony realize that his face had been buried in Mettaton’s hair.
He grumbled a little, opening his eyes just a crack, his gaze landing on Mettaton’s back, which was turned to him as the man rummaged through his bedside table. His arm was still slung over Mettaton’s waist, his fingers just grazing the slightly exposed skin of the man’s navel, making him twitch under his touch.
“Just a moment darling-“ he skimmed his hand across Anthony’s own before returning to root around in the drawer. “I just.. can’t find my glasses- ah! There they are!” Anthony wasn’t listening anymore, just burying his face back into the satin-covered pillow and hoping to stave off the horrible ache behind his eyes. His joints were stiff but he couldn’t will himself to move, moving risked worsening his self-inflected headache and addressing the situation.
Why was he even here? This wasn’t something he did. Anthony didn’t go home with random men, especially not ones that were at least.. twenty? Years younger than him. But before that thought could spiral any longer, said man was ripped from his gasp, shrieking at a volume that made Anthony’s head spin.
“Oh my god-!” Mettaton had jumped off of the mattress, now standing at the bedside, frozen with his jaw fully open and eye wide. He was now wearing his glasses, which Anthony couldn’t help but notice the objectively ugly frames and the comically thick lenses. Mettaton must’ve had horrible eyesight. Anthony’s shirt still hung off his shoulders, dwarfing his frame and ending just below his crotch, concealing him just enough. Those long legs however, were on full display and were just begging for Anthony’s eyes.
“W-what’s wrong..?!” He bolted upright with embarrassingly slow reaction time, which could be attributed to his hangover and the moment he spent gawking. His brain was now in overdrive that he was in tune with the situation.
“You’re- you’re-“ Mettaton was pointing at him, a hand coming to cover his mouth.
His defense mechanism kicked into full gear. “I’m sorry, I-I don’t know what I did.. but-“
“Holy shit! You’re Anthony Tenna!”
His brain short circuited, “so you do know who I am-?”
“Do- do I? Of course I know who you are! Holy shit I am like, probably your biggest fan!” He was babbling now, eyes frantic and movements jerky as he talked expressively, waving his hands around to make a point. “I-I have the whole TV Time boxset! I have TV Time underwear! The quiz theme is my ringtone!” Anthony didn’t even know they made underwear?
Something in him began to swell with pride, like the bike pump connected to his ego had just been stomped on by a certain high heeled boot. If Mettaton knew who he was- no it was more than that! If Mettaton was a fan, then maybe Anthony Tenna wasn’t so irrelevant after all?
Mettaton sighed, running a hand down his face. “God I must have been so plastered this is so embarrassing… I-“ he paused, “I never would have slept with you if I had recognized you. I wasn’t wearing my contacts and-“ the man kept talking but that sentence cut deep, never would’ve slept with him, huh? Yeah okay that’s what he should’ve expected, his fault for letting the bike pump turn into a tire inflator. Ego popped!
Mettaton must’ve noticed his silence because he immediately backtracked. “Oh my god that is not what I meant at all.” He crawled back onto the bed, grabbing one of Anthony’s hands in between his own. “I just- I meant I’m a really big fan and I wish we could’ve met in a different context before having sex!” His eye went wide again, realizing his mistake, “not that my goal in every context would be to have sex with you! B-but not that I didn’t want to either! I had a great time really..” Mettaton was so clearly out of his element, not used to tripping over his words and the lack of control he had over the situation.
Luckily, Anthony was accustomed to embarrassing himself. “Just calm down, what do you remember.?” He attempted to hush the frazzled man, although he found the frantic fanboying quite endearing.
“I remember, uh- falling? Maybe? What was that, did I fall?” Mettaton’s breathing was still somewhat rapid, but it was beginning to steady as he racked his brain to remember the previous night.
This was a question Anthony could answer with utmost certainty, “yeah, you were.. dancing? Performing might be more accurate- anyway, you were on top of the bar counter and your heel snapped clean off. That’s what you’re remembering.” Mettaton looked at him puzzled.
“My heel.?” He glanced over the side of the bed, searching for his shoes. His eyes landed on the damaged right pump, confirming what Anthony had told him. “Ah alright. Did I hurt myself? I can’t believe I don’t remember falling on my ass.. in the middle of a performance, no less.” He angled his head up, once again looking at the older man.
“Well you didn’t, I caught you.” Anthony blurted out before he could stop to word that better. He didn’t want to embarrass the younger man any further, which seemed to be exactly what happened. Mettaton raised his hand to cover his face, the parts still visible quickly flushing pink.
“I see, thank you, Mr. Tenna.” He mumbled into his palm, refusing to look up again.
“No need for the formality..” he chuckled awkwardly, “you can just call me Anthony, or Ant, if you like.” Mettaton nodded but clearly was unsure about taking that step, wasn’t like they’d slept together or anything! This was a purely professional atmosphere. He cleared his throat, “what else do you remember?”
The man flushed red again, Anthony couldn’t help but notice that the blush extended to his ears.
“I.. uh, don’t remember anything in between falling and um.. the sex.” The silence was heavy, but not like a thick smoke. Instead it was akin to syrup, like steam and heat that could fog up their glasses if it wasn’t just tension in the air.
Anthony finally spoke, “Well uh, we shared a drink at the bar and then I called us a cab-“
“Oh! Did you pay? I’m so sorry I’ll have to reimburse you!” Mettaton cut him off and bent over the edge of the bed once more, facing away from Anthony as he dug through the pockets of last nights jeans, searching for his wallet.
“No- no! That won’t be necessary I-“ he stopped abruptly, eyes frozen on Mettaton’s rear. Anthony’s dress shirt had bunched up around his hips as he continued to rummage around looking for cash. The shirt rode up until the man’s cunt was visible, flashing Anthony a clear view of his own handy work.
Dried cum covered his inner thighs, painting quite an endearing portrait across Mettaton’s body. That must’ve been uncomfortable, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as it was just such a satisfying sight. He willed himself to look away as Mettaton once again straightened his back and turned around, not wanting to get caught being a creep.
“So I can’t find it, um hopefully it’ll turn up and I don’t need to freeze my credit card!” He paused, sighing and pushing his glasses to the top of his head to rub at his eye. “I’m sorry… I’m not usually this awkward. I guess I’m a little starstruck?” He chuckled, “I don’t usually expect to recognize my one night stands, post coital. Let alone them being someone I’ve idolized for years. I’m not sure how to act in the situation.” He stared into his lap.
Mettaton was once again proving that he was more than the stuck-up, spoiled brat that he managed to portray himself as through the media. He was clearly vulnerable to vulnerability, he froze up when conversations weren’t going the way his false confidence planned. And these things might be considered flaws to some, but Anthony liked them a lot better than the perfect faux mask that the man wore.
He decided to be honest, “I don’t know what to say, I’m flattered you think so highly of me. I didn’t imagine you being so.. compassionate, from what I’ve seen of you. But if this is you out of your element, I can’t say I dislike it.” He tried to keep his smile warm, face comforting.
“Oh my Mr. Tenna, flirting so soon after we’ve met? How scandalous!” He laughed, the irony not lost on him. Mettaton scooched a little closer, the atmosphere becoming more playful and light.
“I told you to call me Anthony, we’re past the formality, no?” He slotted himself next to the man, getting into character. Mettaton sat sideways in Anthony’s lap, wrapping his arms around the older man’s shoulders, smirking.
“Well then, Anthony.” He savored the name in his mouth like it had a unique flavor. “Would you like to join me in the shower, Ant?”
A zing of excitement shot up his spine, he tried hard to maintain the sultry tone the conversation had but his eagerness got the better of him, if he had a tail it would be wagging.
“Yes.” He nodded frantically.
“Hmm.. I thought so.” His seductive tone and his sweet smile didn’t match up at all.
He hopped off the bed, dragging Anthony with him. But only when the older man stood up to follow did he realize something he couldn’t help but blurt out immediately.
“Oh, you’re short.”
Mettaton stopped and slowly turned around, eyebrows furrowed and face suddenly dark. “Excuse me.?”
He immediately backpedaled, “uh- no, no! I mean you’re just shorter than you were last night, I mean! I’m sorry-“ although rude, it wasn’t an inaccurate observation. Mettaton wasn’t short per se, most definitely above average height, but he was shorter than before by a definite few inches. He once reached above Anthony’s shoulder, but now he seemed to be a few inches below it, just one or two.
“Well you aren’t wrong,” he huffed. “My heels add about six inches.. I am not short, though.”
“Ah, that makes sense. Six inches is a lot, no?” He followed behind Mettaton meekly, watching intently as he flipped on the shower and began to strip off the oversized button up.
The man glanced over his shoulder, smirking and stepping under the hot water, “I think I’ve proven I can handle more than six inches.”
“Of course.” He followed the man in, closing the door behind him and allowing the glass to fog up.