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Tenna’s display flickers on, roused by the scent of nearby smoke. He rubs his screen.
His mouth opens in silence when his vision degausses enough- Spamton sits on his side of the bed, lit cigarette in hand. Tenna shifts, reaching to brush a hand over his husband’s naked shoulderblade.
“Spamton? We talked about this, if we smoke in the house-” Spamton swats his hand away with surprising force, and Tenna falls silent. Spamton slides himself off the bed, scurrying to the master bedroom’s attached balcony without a word.
Tenna follows, struck by deep concern. He cracks the door, halfway stepping into the cool night air. “Sweetheart?”
Spamton doesn’t turn to look at him. His shoulders are raised, and he’s shaking.
“Go back to bed, Ant.”
Tenna frowns, then huffs. He steps over behind Spamton, and grabs the cigarette out of his hand, taking a long drag. He’s tall enough to flick the butt past the balcony, over Spamton’s head.
Spamton turns around, brows furrowed. Something scathing dies on his tongue as Tenna moves to hold him by the shoulders. Tenna gently pulls him forward, and bends to kiss into his hair.
Tenna tries and fails to meet Spamton’s gaze again. “What happened?”
Glassy, avoidant eyes and uneven, shallow breaths seemed to be answer enough for Tenna. He pulls Spamton into a tight, warm hug. They stay like that for a while, Tenna moving big hands up and down his Husband’s back in comforting circles.
Finally, Spamton speaks. “..Nightmare.”
Tenna tenses a little, before curling around the smaller further. “Oh. Oh, Spammy. The one with the phone?”
Spamton nods, cheek rubbing against the hem of Tenna’s boxers. “I hate this. Nightmares, ha, I sound like a fucking kid..”
Tenna gasps, offended on his behalf. “That’s not true! Spammy, I know you, hardly anything rattles you like this. It must have been bad. Was it?”
Spamton clutches Tenna’s huge legs, small fingers digging into plastic and silicone. Tenna feels Spamton’s chest expand in a long, shuddering inhale.
“Well, we- we were in my office, [Bottoms Up!] after the day’s recording was done. There was a signed contract, it was laminated, framed on the wall. The one you shredded– The one we revised years ago.”
“The landline rings. I guess I had been ignoring it for a while, since you shout at me to just [Pick Up!]” At this, Tenna lets out a sad little hum.
“I answer the phone,” Spamton inhales. “The thing on the line reaches through the receiver, and strings me up like a puppet. I don’t know how, but it’s able to [Destroy] my life in moments. My [Success!]- my career, my [ADDLED MIND], my body, my..” He grips Tenna harder, “My family,” he finishes, just barely above a whisper.
Tenna sucks in a breath at the implicit mention of their baby; their pipis, incubating in her nursery downstairs.
“None of that’s going to happen, Spammy, I won’t let it. I won’t let any of that happen to you.”
“It feels too real. It feels like- if I run out of time, and don’t figure out how to [rise and shine], I’ll be kept there past sleep,” Spamton’s voice cracks, and he suddenly pulls away from Tenna to cross his arms tightly. His knuckles are hot and white with tension. He looks like a prey animal chased past its limit.
Then, for the first time that night, Spamton earnestly meets Tenna’s eyes. “Ant. I’m fucking scared.”
The dam breaks after the words come out; tears start collecting fast in the rims of his eyes. Tenna lets out a little gasp, before grabbing Spamton up into his arms, holding him close, so close.
“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry… I wish I could follow you to the place you go when you dream,” Tenna kisses his face all over, kisses turning wet, mingling with tears. “I’d protect you from everything bad.”
The warm, staticky face pressed up against Spamton’s own feels like a nightlight, electric hum warding away any dial tone. He shudders, tension bleeding out with tears shed against his husband’s screen.
Spamton anticipated the worst when he told Tenna he couldn’t go through with the original contract, that he had no secret to share after all. Tenna had been disappointed- but approached him the next day with a painfully earnest Just stay here, okay? Stay with me.
Spamton often searches Tenna’s face for a slip, a twitch, a slight hint of resentment, and never finds any. Spamton feels like he’d lucked out, unable to see what his partner sees in him. He never tells Tenna that he holds onto him just as tightly, just as needily.
Spamton sniffles, rubs his wet face on Tenna’s shoulder. “Take me inside.”
Tenna obliges, and when he sets Spamton on his side of the bed, it’s with featherlight care. Tenna rounds the bed, then crawls under the covers on his side, depressing the mattress heavily with his weight.
“I want you,” Spamton grunts, pushing away covers to climb Tenna’s waist. “I need you to make me forget about it.”
“Are you sure?” Tenna whispers, but his hands are already on Spamton’s hips, pressing them closer. The room is cold, but the two of them are alight against each other.
“Don’t make me ask you again,” Spamton says lowly, reaching to cradle the bottom of Tenna’s screen. “I.. Need. You.”
They lean in mutually, a chaste kiss blossoming into spread lips, tongue and teeth. Tenna blissfully sighs into Spamton’s mouth. They’d done this song and dance hundreds of times, and Tenna still feels heat build up in his insides instantaneously.
Tenna rolls his hips up experimentally. “Do you want to fuck me?” he offers. “Or use my mouth instead?” His heart leaps when he sees Spamton’s impassive frown quirk into a slight smirk.
“Someone’s [Eager Beaver].”
Tenna nuzzles into the crook of Spamton’s neck, before lapping at the hollow of his collarbone, not unlike a dog. “However you want to use me is what I want, too,” Tenna coos.
Spamton stills. He almost wants to stop, cuddle up against Tenna and bawl some more. Tenna had a way of playing his heartstrings like a lyre, drawing out and embracing the most vulnerable parts of him. Spamton swallows. He’d already shown enough weakness.
“Let’s put that pretty mouth of yours to use,” Spamton says. “Would you like that, [Man’s Best Friend]?”
“Very much so, master,” Tenna giggles, always pleased to play his role as Spamton’s pet. He lays his head back down into their pillows. Spamton crawls up Tenna’s chest and braces one hand on their headboard. He kneels on his clavicle, and pulls down his boxers. Tenna lolls his tongue out, already looking drunken.
Spamton doesn’t last long inside Tenna’s comparatively huge, wet mouth. Somewhere along the lines, Spamton had stopped bracing himself on the headboard, and moved to grab Tenna’s head by the sides. He fucks desperately into Tenna’s mouth, thrusts growing increasingly erratic. Tenna just drools and hums, blissed out in being of such good use to his husband.
“[Angel],” Spamton groans. “[Angel], [Angel], [Angel]-” His hips still, and Tenna gulps, swallowing every drop he’s given.
Tonight, there wasn't any particular fanfare or novelty. There didn’t have to be- when Tenna was just focused on making Spamton feel good. Safe. In control.
Tenna jerks in surprise, after a moment of silence, when Spamton’s fingers graze over his unattended erection. Spamton had shimmied all the way down between his thighs, looking a little more relaxed as he took Tenna’s hand in his own. He kisses across Tenna’s knuckles and meets his gaze.
“Want it?” Spamton asks- grinning because he knows the answer.
Tenna’s whimpered “Please,” trails off into a wanton moan as Spamton spits thick saliva onto him, and grasps him tightly.
He continues kissing and licking Tenna’s knuckles as he strokes him up and down, slowing and rubbing his tip on each pass. “I love you,” Spamton murmurs into his hand, barely audible. “Ah, I- [love you] so much, Ant. Baby.”
Tenna gasps, sent over the edge by words he wants to hear infinitely. He bucks shallowly into Spamton’s hand, spilling over himself, his stomach.
Tenna feels cloth swiping over his lower half as the aftershocks fade. Spamton had grabbed his discarded undershirt, wiping up his spend.
Tears well up on Tenna’s screen. “My little mailman.. my star, I love you, too.”
Spamton pauses, halfway on the bed after depositing the soiled cloth in the hamper.
Tenna rolls to face him, opening his arms in a wordless invite. Spamton slots into Tenna’s hold, resting his hands on his husband’s upper back.
“What’s with the [waterworks]? I’m not going anywhere.”
Tenna sniffs and smiles. “I know, I just- I adore you. I wish you could always feel safe.” He brings a hand up to card through his husband’s smooth black hair.
Spamton gazes up to him, raw and vulnerable.
“Right now, I’ve got you, Spammy,” Tenna murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
I don’t deserve you, Spamton thinks. “Thank you, honey,” he says instead.
It’s only when Spamton sighs, closing his eyes in final relent, that Tenna shuts his own screen off.