Chapter Text
The front door opens, and Tenna is being pulled into the small apartment by his belt, barely able to keep himself upright as he stumbles to the closest wall and collapses against it, letting Spamton drag him on his knees. He's not sure the door is even closed fully as he's tugging the mailman's pants down, mouthing the bulge straining his underwear.
Spamton ushers him nonetheless, pushing his head down harder and rolling his hips against the warmth of Tenna's lips, throwing his usual words of affirmation, something along the lines of- he forgets immediately, he doesn't mean to, but it's just too much.
Tenna grumbles, using his teeth to expose his partner's dick to the air, kissing the warm metal tip before taking the whole thing with ease, bobbling his head to a steady rhythm.
“Bet you do this to every >SPONSORS< that gives you attention huh? You look like you've done this before.” He chuckled like he said the funniest thing ever, bucking his hips in time with Tenna, patting the top of the crt’s head and bringing the cigar against his lips. He let the smoke burn his lungs first before blowing it in Tenna's vents, watching him struggle to multitask.
“Do that thing you did in the [[Cungadero G. 1997]].”
The ride home did suffer from a few detours. Maybe it's the nicotine making him all pheromonal, Tenna thinks, tracing the metal ridges of Spamton's dick with his fangs, watching his hips shake into the feeling. A drop of cum dripped onto the floor and Tenna looked up at Spamton, silent, but clear in what he wanted to do.
“You- yes.”
That's all it took for Tenna to lower his screen against the floorboards, licking the mess off the pretty tiles. “You would make a great dog, look at you.” He encouraged, using the heel of his shoe to press him lower, closer against the floor, relishing in the humiliated expression on Tenna’s screen. “So obedient and submissive, my dumb little TV.” Nevermind the fact that Tenna was thrice his size, he whined out at the degrading words.
“Spamton-”
“It's sir to you now.”
“Sir!”
Spamton pulled his tie, catching Tenna's lips in a heated kiss full of teeth and smoke. He didn't even care if they stayed like that, crammed against the floor, Tenna would be grateful, glad even. “Turn around.” He commanded, giving the crt little space to do so before spanking his ass, a loud thud and yell echoing in the apartment.
It felt like second nature the way his pants were tugged down, and how Spamton pushed himself in him without missing a beat, so confidenly. The salesman reached forth, pressing onto Tenna's back enough for his chest to plant onto the floor against his knees. Oh no- oh no no no no!
“Spamton wait!”
“Is this what I think it is?”
“Hold your horses now! I don't know about this!”
Lifting up the back of Tenna's blouse and tugging on a thin strip hidden underneath, Spamton pulled out a black power cable, small sparks flying off the connectors of it, and he eyed it curiously. “Now why would you hide this?” A laugh burned hot shame into Tenna's head, making him shiver when the ‘tail’ was fondled by his thumb so skillfully it shook him to his core.
“I don't like it, it's broken anyway.”
“Broken how?”
“I barely have any feeling of it, it doesn't move well, it's outdated and worn, it's easier to hide it, and I'd appreciate it if you'd be a dear and put it back!” He cried, crossing his arms with a pout.
“Mm, what a [[TEMPTING OFFER]], no.”
“Spamton I'm serious- HEY!”
The metallic ridges met Spamton's clever tongue as he sucked on them, not letting up even as Tenna tried to kick him off, blame his short stature for his swiftness.
“First of all.” He started, pulling away and biting the plastic wrapping around the wiring, tearing the material slightly. “I thought I told you not to call me that, but it's an honest mistake, I forgive you this once.” He smirked, bucking his hips forward into him, trying to distract him more to have another reason to be upset when he inevitably forgot what pet name Spamton wanted to be called.
“Second, I'm upset you didn't tell me.”
“You don't need to know everything-!”
“Oh, but I do, see Tenna, I don't know if your memory is failing you already, but I fucked your ass a few minutes ago, fun fact!” Another hard thrust, and almost on instinct Tenna's legs shook back into the movement. “I'm still fucking it right now!” as if Tenna couldn't feel it, couldn't hear the sounds, smell the cum and sweat. His tail was tugged back in sync with the mean pace, and he could barely see anymore through the tears running down his whole face.
“[[Sugar honey iced tea]], that's the ticket, look at me sweetheart.” Spamton heaved out, on his tippy toes to hit that specific angle sure to make Tenna overheat quicker than the rest. He turned his screen enough to look at his face, sweaty and still so professional it made Tenna's blood boil and dick twitch. He must have noticed how long he was staring, because the mailman slowed up, pushing Tenna on his side with strength neither of them knew he had.
“Hold your leg up, I'm not doing all the work for you, brat.”
“I'm not a brat.”
“Yes you are, you're a spoiled little brat that doesn't like to listen to me, and yet look how well I'm treating you.”
“Spamton-”
“What did I tell you?!” Tenna hadn't ever heard Spamton yell at him like that.
His breath hitched, and he scrambled off in a hurry, backing himself up against the wall as far away from him as he could. And yet, somehow, as always it seems with him, Spamton knew how to return his stare, even without eyes. He knew they widened, he knew they were upset.
“Great, what a turn off.”
“You think that's my fault?!”
“You made me angry [premium sugar cubes], it ain't my fault you're sensitive!”
“Sensitive?” Tenna laughed joylessly, grabbing onto his pants and hastily putting them back on, huffing out in annoyance. “I'm leaving.” a hand clutched his wrist, pulling him closer.
“Hey! We're in the middle of something here!” The smoke filled his head, and he made no effort to ventilate it, choking out his next words with great pain suffering the consequences.
“You're mental if you want me to continue after this, I have standards!”
“Clearly not good ones if you whore yourself around in the first month of knowing someone!”
Spamton felt the cracking of his head being bashed against the wall, and for a few moments the only other sound accompanying it was the ringing that stretched out in his mind, fading like an old movie scene to the screaming from the crt looming over him, holding him against the hole in the brick behind him.
“If you think I'll let you talk to me like that, you've got another thing coming.” Tenna said in a distant voice, fangs on full display and threatening his face as he spoke, pointing directly at Spamton, like a parent scolding their kid.
“Fuck- you.” He heaved out, gripping onto Tenna's sleeve so hard he hoped it'd rip.
The silence powered through, you could cut through the air with a blade. Tenna's gaze lowered, and he scoffed, noticing Spamton's dick twitching with glee, still panting as if he was sex deprived. Tenna's now bloodied hand came down, pulling the coat off the mailman's body and checking him for any noticeable injuries.
“You like being manhandled by the people you fuck?”
“I [[you have the right to remain silent]].”
“Where's your bedroom?”
“I'd tell you if I could see.”
A dribble of crimson ran down his chest, and he felt Tenna's breath pick up even more than before, biting his lip as an idea popped into his mind. Spamton's lips curled upward, in a sick smile, and he nodded, almost posing himself for Tenna, ready to give.
“Yes.”
And that's all it took for Tenna to lean down like a predator, lapping up the blood from his body as if it was holy, letting his tongue trace all stained areas till he made his way towards Spamton's lips, licking them spotless.
“I can see your eyes staring, you liar.”
“I wanna fuck you so bad, [[please pretty baby]].”
And the predator pounced, well, after they made their way to the bed. There, Spamton was thrown on the mattress, and had a few seconds to catch a breath through his clogged airway before Tenna was infiltrating it like he owned it, not pulling away until he got the noises he wanted.
And those were, mostly, a mix between grunting from the actively bleeding wound on his head, and moaning from his discarded erection.
“I knew you were into pain, but you know, this is something else entirely-”
“Don't act [LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE] you don't want this either, whore!”
Ok maybe Tenna didn't mind being talked to like that.
He stiffened, thinking about his next few moves carefully, not noticing that Spamton was recovering his footing on the sheets, grabbing onto his power cord and pulling sadistically coy, hearing the crt shriek in pain.
“I'll beat you black and blue you-!”
Spamton spat at him square in the face, punching the place he spat at and crawling up his falling body, almost ripping the clothes off of it. They kissed again, Tenna fighting against the blood drenched tongue in his mouth, but still pulling him in for more, more, it was intoxicating, the dual need to push and pull.
“Spamton, sir, c'mon-”
“[[CONGRATULATIONS]], you finally listened!” The man spat back immediately, yelping when his hair was tugged back and sharp fangs dug into his collarbone, drawing even more blood.
“I need you, right now.”
“Turn on your stomach then dollface!”
Back on his knees, arching his ass up to entice a reaction, a breath, anything from Spamton, Tenna bit his lip at the ease in which he slipped back in, not so much how slow he started pounding. “Harder.” He found himself slurring, careful not to bite his tongue as he drooled all over the pillows under him.
“Sir, fuck me harder.” He spoke up, the name alleviating the situation slightly. The pair moaned out in unison at the loud clanking of their bodies meeting, penetrating, marking.
“C'mon-! You were begging me a few minutes ago!”
“Tell me how good I make you feel.”
“So good, please please please, you're so good.”
“You need me to make you feel good, you love when I fuck my babies into you right?”
“Yes yes!” Tenna cried, reaching in his sloppily downed pants and grabbing his dick, stroking in time with Spamton's rhythm, desperate to release, so much stimulation, so much smoke. “Fuck your babies in me sir I love it when you do it!” he didn't mention how little Spamton came in comparison to him, he didn't mention it in fear of another denial, just kept on rambling out words he wasn't aware he would ever say. Since when did he even speak like this? The show host is upset, a little.
“You're so hot like this Ant, you should [sea] yourself.”
And as if an audible light switch was flicked with the power of a million suns combined, Spamton laughed out loud, finally, finally speeding his hips up, leaving Tenna a constant blabbermouth, snatching a handful of sheets and cumming in his pants, not stopping even for a second.
“Bet you'd love it if I recorded this huh? I bet you'd love it if I fucked you in front of all your crew, yeah? You want that?” Tenna's hips trembled in delight, even remotely thinking about a scenario like that, coupled with his orgasm, was hitting him like a truck running on the clock. He screamed out Spamton's name like a prayer, hoping the walls were thick enough and rolling back, going against every circuit in his body telling him to take a break.
“Yeah, I'll fuck you on camera! On the set, in front of your whole [[LOVELY audience]], they will see how much of a whore you are!”
“Sir!”
“Turn on your knees.”
He did, fast enough to take Spamton's dick in his mouth, letting the bitter taste mix with all the metallic fluids, gulping it down like a starved man. He didn't particularly appreciate it when Spamton pulled out mid cumming, spurting some blue liquid on his screen though.
“Good cathode, lick it all up.” The words were slurred out, noticeably delirious because of the salesman's blood loss. There's so much happening at the same time, more clothes being taken off, more smoking, Tenna's system is steaming him alive and everything goes blank from the stimuli.
“Cathode?”
No response, Spamton ran a hand through his hair as he looked around, grabbing a dirty shirt off the floor and wiping the blood off his face, pressing it on his wound as he hit Tenna's head, trying to bring him back.
No response.
“Oh don't be such a drama queen, I'm actually injured for GIF’s sake!” He huffed, putting his boxers back on, gifting himself a break on the small balcony, hand in hand with his trusty bottle of RUM and pack of cigarettes.
The view from here was distasteful, made bearable enough by the distant Ferris wheel with the blinking lights and his lips against the bottle of alcohol. Tonight was fun, he should go fix his head up before jumping into action again though. He takes a hefty draw from the cigarette, holding the smoke in before letting it slowly leave his nostrils and make his eyes water.
Fuck.
Another sip of RUM.
Another smoke.
The phantom pain from the electric current running through his springs was still there, surprisingly, leaving him to try and bounce his leg to try and exhaust the rush. Another sip, he lets the bottle tip over his head, the liquid running down his esophagus like the looming hand of heaven. He hoped it was true.
He packs up and heads back inside, shutting the balcony door behind him. He's stumbling around very lucidly as he makes his way into the bedroom, Tenna still sprawled in the same place he'd left him in. He should probably do something about that soon.
As if it was a calling to put that off, the phone rang loudly, and being a spark contrast to the looming silence from before, it startled him enough to almost fall back. Great.
“Hello.”
…..
“Mhm, yes, I am working on that, all set in order [[Boss Baby]].”
…..
“I'll have to call you back for that one, talk later.”
He left the receiver hanging, not bothering to check as he slugged on over on the bed again, crawling close to the body against the bed’s headboard like a murder victim.
“[Hello,
It's me], ya back yet?”
Ok, nothing yet.
Heads together, what do we do about that?
Groaning out loud, Spamton slapped the screen again, huffing when nothing happened. That's a nuisance.
“Let's pop this bad boy open then, cheers.” Pressing a button next to Tenna's chest, the template of his bodice opened with a click, and Spamton took a breath, imagining he wasn't about to dig through his guts, instead, he imagined he was about to service his Cungadero. That's better.
Wiping some liquor from his lip, he shoves both his hands in the jumbled mess of wires in Tenna's body, on a wild scavenger hunt for anything amiss. A few wires were popped off their sockets, but judging from their wild places Spamton guessed those were off for a while, so he looked closer to the walls of the casing, wiping a spurt of oil on the TV hosts legs.
“Dammit, what's wrong with you?!” He huffed, flicking a loose wire away from his face.
What if he couldn't fix him in time for the show?
What if he couldn't fix him.
Spamton isn't nearly equipped enough for this, and he decides he needs some help. Mike probably knows what to do.
Right?
Unconsciously, he's biting his finger while dialing the studio's H.Q, looking back at Tenna, as if he would sit up anytime now and say he was joking. Is Spamton worried? No he's not! Tenna is a hard nut, or whatever the saying goes like.
“Hello?”
“Mike?”
“One of them, who's this?”
Spamton purses his lips, looking back at Tenna again.
No.
He leaves the dial dangling back against the floor, and instead digs through the piles of bags he has in multiple corners of the small apartment, finally finding the manual he was looking for. Perks of being a hoarder and a horny fuck.
Skipping any unimportant sections, he found what he was looking for. Fully illustrated as well! Hot darn, he licks his teeth, tasting all the leftover blood, sweat and smoke. No, he has to stay focused.
“Alright sweet cheeks, I'll fix you up.” He proudly stated, looking at the pictured pages in search of the coils that needed plugging again. Lots of different functions depended on this specific part of the crt's body, he guessed, so he grabbed a connector, plugging it in its respectable slot, seeing the TV's screen flash blue. That's some progress there.
“Insert code.”
Fucks sake Toriel.
Ok, it's the family TV of around 20 something years, the code can't be something really recent. It could be the same as his gmail code, Lightners are lazy like that and use the same password everywhere, let's put that to the test. He uses the dial next to Tenna's head to type into the empty space.
_ _ _ _ _
ASRIEL
Incorrect password.
TORIEL
Incorrect password.
ASGOR
Incorrect pa-
Spamton stops, rolling his eyes and clearing the space again, typing in one last thing in.
Welcome home, DRMUR
Perfect.
He watched the screen showing a picture of a calm landscape fade out, and the face of the game show host's familiar mug fade back in. A small side of his face was miscolored, and Spamton took the initiative and hit his head, startling and fixing Tenna up fully. What was he even worried about? He knows tech stuff, he can fix Tenna anytime something like that happens!
“[[It's a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming.]] Good morning sleeping beauty!”
“What- where? Huh?”
“You were out cold! Some of your cords were disconnected and your best pal [Spamton G Spamton] fixed them for you! I also fixed some other stuff for you, bladder and stomach syncing is overrated anyways if you ask me.”
“You messed with my system?!”
Not bothered at all, the Addison shut the chest hatch closed, patting his partner's shoulders to try and reassure him that it was all under control the whole time! “Ya weren't responsive!”
“You should've called Mike, or an engineer, or just anyone actually qualifie-” Tenna's words were stolen by a quick, bittersweet kiss. Bittersweet as in it tasted like alcohol. Spamton's drunk. Maybe high, it's always a guessing game with him. The taller one grumbled when he let his legs wrap around the salesman’s waist, and he pulled back, suddenly interested in the book sitting on the bed next to him.
“Oh?”
“[Woopsie diasy!] That's not yours!”
It was promptly thrown across the room, no longer important.
“Are you ready for the [BONUS ROUND] bunny?”
“Do you even have a refractory period?”
“No!” He made an offended sound, pressing Tenna into the pillows despite how weird it looked with their statures being so vastly different. It still made Tenna's breath hitch, it didn't even feel like the man was roughly the side of his thigh.
“Can we do something different? My,,, lower region hurts.”
“If you're proposing I [TAKE THE DEAL], I'd have to disappoint you.” Spamton, based on what he tells anyone willing to listen to him rant, has a lot of fucks to give. Not take. That's against his whole brand! His shot is big! The biggest! He won't lie, the thought of experimenting has crossed his mind, and maybe he tried it, then again he couldn't remember half of the hook-ups he'd ever had, but it's unlikely that he liked it.
Also Tenna would totally rip him in half.
And that wouldn't be a great way to end up at the hospital.
Speaking of hospitals, his head makes its injuries known once again, cleaving past the gooey layer of liquor he'd used to mask it. Dammit!
“Actually, scrap that toots, my head's fucking my ass, a first, might I add. The ass fucking. I [top class]. He clarified, clutching the bridge of his nose and wincing at the waves of pain rumbling his thoughts. Tenna noticed, shifting slightly in his place on the bed and making room for Spamton to lay down next to him.
“Sorry about that.”
“If it wasn't really sexy, I would actually be upset.”
“I'll keep that in mind.” The words next time hanging in the air loosely, and they both acknowledged that they wanted there to be one.
“I'll go dial you an Ambyu-Lance, stay here.”
“Thanks [dirty girl].” and with that, began the adventure that was walking toward the phone without falling flat on his face, ass or any other notable limb he needed. Tenna felt like a skillful dancer, like a happy lamb trotting through the sunny valley eating flowers and grass, only that Tenna was repeatedly eating the carpet.
He picked the receiver up, calling the number from the top of his head and demanding that he be dealt with in a timely manner. And that was that. The handle of the phone laid in his palms like the barrel of a freshly used gun, too hot to touch, as if something was calling him to it.
He took a breath in, sneaking a glance at the bloodied man on the bed, then the phone under him. Spamton must have the number written down somewhere. He bites his lip as his fingers trace the numbers on the device, noticing small dents in specific numbers. They are important. He could try to brute force his way through, there's not that many combinations of digits. Maybe now he can finally have his moment of glory, maybe now he can be even better than before, and he'll look down at the people that wronged him and laugh.
Maybe now he will be a big shot.
“Cathode what are you doing?” A simple question scared him enough to fall back on the floor, and for the first time in a few minutes, he felt truly vulnerable, clutching onto the phone and looking up, surprisingly, at Spamton.
“Ah! Just erm-” he coughed, looking around and in a split second decision snatched the first thing his hands could find, the same book Spamton had thrown earlier. “Just brushing up on,,, ‘how to press all the right buttons of your mechas 101’?” if he had eyes, he'd be glaring darts into Spamton's predictable bum. It was the salesman's turn to be embarrassed, and he snatched the book back, hiding it behind himself.
“Don't kink shame me [[Boob Tube]]!”
“I'm just disappointed.”
“Don't worry baby, I know how to make you [feel good inc.mp3] without it!”
“How do I know that?” He challenged, because he knew Spamton, behind all that bravado and jazz he put up, was just a desperate horny bastard who wouldn't pass up the chance to get his dick wet.
“I will show you.”
“Do it then.” hook, line and sinker. Another make out session followed, not too different from every other one tonight. Tonight? What time is it even? Tenna should probably be heading back, but it's all gone over his head the moment a hand pops his hatch back open, and slithers in his guts, literally. At first, it's weird, uncomfortable, he's clinging onto the floor for support while waiting to see what Spamton had in store.
The answer was a lot.
His hips shuttered involuntarily, and he whined out, feeling his whole body burn against his will. “I swear if you break me, I'll- I'll do something bad to you!” Don't blame him for that, he can't possibly think of a better insult, being pressed flat on his back against the floor again, having his insides messed in a relentless pace.
“I'll break you so good your guts will remember me forever.”
“Sir-”
“See? It's [natural additives] now!”
A string was pulled roughly out the hatch, and Tenna all but moaned at the sting it brought to his senses, mouth watering for more he couldn't put into words. “Bet you didn't know your body could even do this.” and it was true! When else would he need to feel this, everyday, if not now? He needs it harder, now. He needs it to hurt.
But then again.
“The Ambyu-Lance! We shouldn't be doing this, they will be here anytime now.”
“Being big means you've got power, you think I'd ever let a lousy [[scum of the earth]] ruin my night?” another wire pulled, and Tenna swears on his life that he hears something pluck out of place, and it's scarily hot, he looks down at himself, crying, begging, needing more.
How much more could he possibly even get?
Before he,, well, passed out?
“Do I make you feel good, doll?” he teased, leaning in real close, till Tenna could feel him breathing into his chest. “Tell me so I can make you feel even better.” Is that even possible? His circuits light up in pleasure at the thought of it, and he lets a pathetic noise roll down his tongue.
“I feel perfect, please, sir.”
He feels teeth pulling his innards, and at that, unfortunately, he cums the hardest he'd had in his life, clutching onto the back of Spamton's head and letting the ecstasy fry his brain, not holding any sound back. The carpet is probably ruined under his feet, he'll have to pay for that. Coming down from his high, Spamton is digging into him, turning something and switching something else, miraculously making the burning go away.
“H-ow?” his voice was glitchy, and he coughed to try and bring some of it back. It hurt to swallow.
“I took one of the wires for your pain receptors and put it in an enhancer, you're welcome!”
“If I start malfunctioning I'll kill you with my bare hands!” Spamton only shrugged, licking some cum from Tenna's screen and grabbing his clothes, throwing them in his face.
“I wouldn't mind that.” He hummed through gritted teeth, trying to put on his pants. It must be difficult with the head injury. Tenna took pity on him, crawling close and holding onto him, slipping the pants on him and buttoning them up, turning to grab his blouse. “I'm gonna pop another boner [[baby wipes]], stop it!” If Spamton's nose could grow with every kink he had, it'd be as big as the H.Q. Twice as big actually.
“Fine, my fault for wanting to be nice.” Taking advantage of the baby wipes ad, he stole a few pieces, desperately cleaning the rest of the cum from his screen before it dried out. “What time is it?” Why doesn't this freak hoard a clock or two for a change?
“‘Tis 5 AM, methinks.”
“WHAT.”
“5 AM, what? On a curfew- oh.”
“The cartoon programs start at 6, AND I'M STILL HERE!” With even more frantic movements, Tenna dressed himself back up, trained almost, slicking back his antennae and rushing to put his shoes back on, looking around for his- what? He didn't even bring anything! Looking down at his coat, he noticed a VERY noticeable strain on the hem of it, and he almost cried his heart out at the loss, booking it for the door, shoving the cable back up his shirt and tucking it in.
“Aren’t you forgetting [something something]?”
He can't waste any more time. Connecting the wires on the back of his head back in their sockets, he pops into Mike's channel, and immediately calls an (n)Uber(t). “Sorry my sweet stay at home wife, I have work to do!”
“Stay at home wife? I'm offended!”
“Sorry, work wife, I'm going.”
“Not any better, you're mocking me.” Spamton scoffs, walking Tenna to the front door, ignoring the fact that it was semi-open, pretending to unlock it and holding it open for the other. As a reward, after looking around for any witnesses, he was lifted up by the front of his shirt, and delivered a rough kiss, pressed right up against the door so hard it looked like he was trying to suffocate him between the wood and his own body.
“Shower before showing your face in the office today, understood?”
“[Loud and clear]]!”
The door is flung closed in front of Spamton, and he's left standing there, bleeding on the floor, unbelievably hard, still.
Fuck. How fast can he rub this one out?
A little love in the morning didn't hurt anyone.
His eyes darted automatically back to that blessed manual, yeah.