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They made their promise on Saturday.
Such that it was, anyway. The schedules and staffing charts they had been working on were strewn carelessly across Spamton’s desk, pens on the floor, their rumpled clothes from a long day of performing tossed over the back of the sofa. Half-empty glasses of whiskey and mostly ice were pushed, long-abandoned, to the edge of the low coffee table, two cigarette butts completely extinguished in a glass ashtray.
Tenna nearly crushed Spamton under him as they laid chest to chest, but they’d both have been breathless from just touching alone.
Spamton’s lips were red and bitten sore, stretched in a dopey smile, pupils dilated even as he gazed into Tenna’s blindingly bright screen. And Tenna was like a warm, weighted blanket on top of him, squeezing out all his stress and replacing it with pure, thoughtless desire.
Spamton tangled his hand up in Tenna’s tie, forcing him to arch in for another rough kiss, as he wove his fingers tightly through Tenna’s belt loops. Haltingly, he grinded his hips upwards, the sound of Tenna’s soft, high whine echoing through his head, causing his heart to hurl itself insistently at his ribcage. He grunted softly at the feeling of Tenna through his tight pants, the firm pressure against his arousal sending waves of tingling pleasure across his whole body.
Tenna rocked back against him, matching his rhythm with his thrusts and sweet moans, so loud that it made Spamton’s hearing ring. In an attempt to silence him, he shoved his tongue into Tenna’s mouth, but only succeeded in making his partner cry out harder. The resonance of his voice made Spamton’s teeth ache. He bit down, the staticky softness of Tenna’s lips forcing a clipped groan out from him, which Tenna drank up eagerly, lapping back at his mouth with his huge, clumsy tongue.
The bitter taste of Tenna’s cigarette sent a nicotine high straight to Spamton’s brain, and he picked up his pace, rutting desperately against the larger man, the saggy couch cushion creaking under their weight. “C-close-” Spamton wheezed out in warning, thighs and cock aching with effort, and Tenna whimpered wordlessly, in a similar position himself.
Spamton knew he should stop, should try to avoid cranking up his dry cleaning bill again– but Tenna’s alluring gasps in his ear overpowered his rationality. He redoubled his grip on Tenna’s pants, using all his strength to urge the other man on harder, pushing up off the couch as much as he could to maximize their contact, the friction burning his skin.
Tenna keened, throwing his head back, digging his claws into Spamton’s shoulders, then pitched forward and claimed his mouth roughly. He sobbed in ecstasy as his hips stuttered and twitched, and Spamton soon followed him, his teeth knocking against Tenna’s as he sloppily kissed back. Hot, sticky wetness spurted into his pants, squelching as he moved against his partner, but he didn’t care, still dizzily trying to steal the breath out of Tenna’s lungs.
Weakly, Tenna collapsed onto him, feeling around to take his hand as his breathing slowly stilled. He hummed contentedly, wedging his screen in between the back of the couch and Spamton’s face, his screen black save for his dazed, drooling smile. But mindlessly he continued to thrust his hips against Spamton’s even as the space between their crotches grew cold, still occasionally letting out soft, squeaking breaths.
Something shifted oddly between them then, and when Spamton craned his head back, panting, the leather of Tenna’s beltloop cutting deep into his index finger, a look of silent understanding passed between them.
It wasn’t like they hadn’t ever done the whole make-out-and-dry-hump thing before– in fact, they could rarely even get through a filming without needing to run off to some broom closet to get their hands on each other. But somehow tonight it was different, not quite enough, and both of them felt it.
“Next week, we’re showing reruns all night. And the kids will be over at the Holidays’.” Tenna murmured hotly, his voice hushed and husky, antennae dancing in the tips of Spamton’s static-raised cowlicks. Sparks raced across his scalp and Spamton’s palms went sweaty and numb at the feeling.
“My last meeting ends at eight.” Spamton’s lips drew fuzzy interference across Tenna’s screen. The sweet, fresh smell of ozone made him nearly swoon.
“The usual place?”
“I-” Spamton drew in a laborious breath, trying to steady his pitchy voice. “I’ll get you from yours at nine.”
Smiling toothily, Tenna drew back and up, fidgeting until finally settling his hands in his lap. Spamton couldn’t help but glimpse the darkened outline of his still-half-hard arousal in his peripheral vision. “... I finally get to see the famous ‘‘Dero’ in person, huh?” He said, straightening his antennae out with two fingers.
“You know it. Babe.” Still lying on his side, Spamton shot him a crooked grin, trying to look like he wasn’t still desperately gulping air. He spread his legs, trying to avoid squishing the cum between his legs any more, praying his boxers caught most of it.
Tenna drew his fingers gently up Spamton’s calf, face flushed, licking his lips.
Spamton felt like he was drowning. Sharply, he turned to swing off the couch, scuttling over to his desk to hastily gather up his papers and shove them in his briefcase.
As he worked feverishly, Tenna’s shadow fell over him. He could be so quick and quiet, hardly befitting of his size, that it was admittedly thrilling. Spamton found himself caged in by two arms and overwhelming warmth which commanded him to turn, and he did so, slowly and stiffly.
Now expressionless, Tenna hovered inches above him, the buzz of his blackened screen making the hairs on the back of Spamton’s neck rise. They were quickly smoothed down as Tenna gently cupped his nape, the fingers of his other hand curling easily around Spamton’s whole wrist.
Their mouths met again for but a moment. Spamton didn’t– couldn’t– close his eyes. Of course, he couldn’t tell whether Tenna was looking or not.
Then Tenna leaned back and ran his thumb up Spamton’s wrist, the faint hint of a claw drawing electricity across his skin. His lips parted, antennae twitching, but he said nothing, did nothing but stroke him suggestively, though chastely.
Finally, Spamton cleared his throat, and Tenna jumped up to stand stark straight. His body felt cold and naked where Tenna’s hands had left it, and reflexively he pulled his arms around himself, averting his eyes towards the floor. “Uh, good night.” Spamton muttered under his breath, pushing past his partner to leave.
“Are we still on for tomorrow morning?” Tenna called after him.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, d-doll!”
The next morning, Sunday, was full of awkward glances and smiles over their usual brunch. Spamton tried to talk about nothing over unremarkable cocktails, eyes locked downwards at his blurry, tasteless meal, hearing the world like it was underwater as his heart pounded in his ears. Tenna brushed his toe (accidentally?) across Spamton’s shin, and was he actually electrocuted or did it just feel like it? He jerked away, almost spitting his drink across the table.
Monday always meant brushed fingertips over once-again barely touched scripts. Tenna’s voice kept hitching on his lines, but Spamton listened intently, enthralled. But still, as they sat with their shoulders barely not touching, the magnetic field was palpable between them, Spamton casting lingering looks at his partner’s knees, unable to focus his eyes on Tenna’s sun-like, blinding face.
Tuesday they were thankfully busy, wrapped up in a big shoot that was too hectic to think of much else besides work. And yet as the curtain closed, as the stage crew rushed back and forth to clear the set, their gazes met, making Spamton nearly choke on his drink at the beatific smile that spread across Tenna’s pinkened screen, the rest of the room going dark as his vision tunneled helplessly.
On Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, he ran home as soon as their shoot completed. And when it was Saturday again, the night finally arrived.
There Spamton sat, clutching the wheel of the Cungadero, the nose of the car not two inches out the garage door, the beige leather stuck to his sweaty palms. The car felt thick and stuffy, and he had thankfully decided to leave his black dinner jacket laid out in the trunk. With trembling hands he cranked the AC up to max, the chilled, chemical-tasting air hardly doing anything to soothe the anxious flame in his chest.
The overhead light had clicked off a while ago, and his face was illuminated only by his own dim glow and the neon green LED lights of his dashboard.
His mind raced as he ran through his preparations one more time.
Every night, Spamton had been working his way through a considerable list of romance movies that Tenna liked (he had paid a Pippins to scout them out for him). And every time he imagined himself in the place of the protagonists, (A boombox in the rain? Sketching each other nude? … dead but helping the other lead make a vase?) or practiced his lines in the mirror, his skin crawled with shame at how fake it all seemed.
The only thing he’d managed to halfway pull together was a single red rose.
Just one. It would look so pathetic in Tenna’s huge hands. What was he thinking? But he couldn’t bear the thought of dragging himself back into the studio gift shop, where he would have to deflect even more smirks and jabs from the Pippins on cashier duty, who’d already called in five others by the time Spamton was done checking out to point and laugh at him.
The whole studio would know by the morning that he had a date, and there were already rumors flying about him and Tenna.
Oh, Heaven, this was the first time they were having sex, not going on a date! Why did he get flowers, anyway? He'd prepared for this all wrong!
But somehow, not so deep down, he knew Tenna was going to love it.
His head hit his wheel, and he jolted back at the sharp honk of the horn, forehead pounding. Glancing sideways, he checked his gold dress watch. He really couldn’t stall any longer.
With a lump in his throat, he started the ignition. The Cungadero’s powerful engine resonated with his heartbeat, making him feel a little nauseated.
This was going to be his first time having a passenger in the car.
In his car.
Despite his years of dreaming, he’d only just started learning to drive. After all, there were only so many times he could flirt by telling Tenna he’d take him for a sweet ride around town before he had to make good on his promise. (Him and his big mouth…) With the money he’d saved up and a little bit of sweet talk, he’d been able to talk the dealer to give him the floor model at a steep discount.
He’d have to tell Tenna he just got the paint touched up. Every time he’d asked, Spamton had lied about it being in the shop. How many stories was he going to have to keep straight?
He put the car in drive, both it and his stomach lurching under him. He crept out of the garage, the feeling of gravel bouncing up making him wince. When he finally pulled all the way out, he shifted back into park, jogging around to make sure there weren’t already scratches. Then, he pulled the creaky door closed, locked it, and made to finally head towards Tenna’s place.
Despite going just below the speed limit, the antenna-shaped spires of Tenna’s golden mansion still crested the horizon fifteen minutes before their agreed meeting time. He pulled to a complete stop in front of the gate and got out, turning the matching golden key in his fingers reverently. The cool metal felt like prayer beads.
With little effort he slid the gate open and drove through.
The Cungadero’s lot-fresh paint was so pristine he could eat off it. Its powerful body was something out of the ad scraps he’d kept stuffed in a tattered shoebox under his bed, had pulled out to gaze at after many a dry day of sales work. It sparkled like a jewel under the lamplight, and still his gaze was gravitationally yanked towards the dazzling, rosy glow of Tenna's screen, angled modestly away from Spamton as he stood on the steps of his mansion.
Spamton pitched forward as he stomped hard on the brake, air vacuumed out of his chest, as Tenna came down the stairs. His unfamiliar tailcoat fluttered like wings behind him. Underneath, his high black shirt collar was unbuttoned, the deep purple of his neck glowing in the light above a tiny gold brooch. He'd also traded out his usual work gloves for thin silk ones that were almost iridescent, stretched tight against the beautiful sharp lines of his chassis. The pants he wore were shinier than usual and just as tight, kept decent only by how his hips were draped over with red velvet.
And, but of course, his yellow dress shoes.
The car crept forward, still in drive while Spamton's foot slid off the pedal. He tried not to let his taut, nervous smile drop from his face as he fixed it, praying Tenna didn't see him fumbling with the gearshift.
“Hi,” Tenna said, teeth glinting on his polished screen. He smoothed his shiny lapel, then fiddled with his signature TV pin. The font looked fancier than usual.
“Hi,” Spamton breathed back intelligently. “Youlookgood.”
The edges of Tenna's screen reddened. “Oh, you charmer. You’re looking pretty groovy yourself.”
Spamton felt self-conscious then, in just one of his work shirts (he'd made sure to pick the nicest, newest shirt he had!) and his rented pants, which flapped around his ankles loosely. A new suit wasn't exactly in his budget now that he had a car, especially if it wasn’t going to get much use.
He moved his elbow off the backrest, hoping his partner– the title made his heart do a funny little flip tonight– hadn't noticed the sweat spot surely forming under his arm.
Though he knew he should get out and open the door, his legs felt like jelly. So instead, he reached over shakily, the handle clicking crisply under his fingers.
“Hop in?” Spamton swallowed the crack in his voice when he looked up. His hand slipped a little, plastic crinkling under him where he almost crushed the rose. Alarmed, he yanked it out from under him, proffering it upwards as his vision swam in pink and purple and red. “A-ah! I got you, uh, this. For, um. Yeah. No reason.”
Tenna flushed a little deeper, before his nose produced a gigantic bloom of its own. Delicately he picked it off, handing it to Spamton as he took his own gift, making the smaller man freeze. “A trade, then.” He giggled, taking a luxuriously deep whiff of the rose before tucking it in his huge breast pocket.
Heaven, he’s so smooth. How can this goofball be so smooth at a time like this? I’m going to look like such an idiot!
Tenna took the hand that Spamton still had outstretched, putting only dainty pressure on it as he slid into the car. His long legs bumped up against the glovebox despite the fact that the seat was pulled all the way back. His broad shoulders spilled out of the seat, forcing him to lean towards Spamton, his body squeezed all the way up against the window. Spamton flushed hotly– it was like he'd been shoved into a toy car. This wasn't at all the sweet ride he'd promised, was it?
At least he’d had the foresight to put down the convertible top.
Tenna’s fingers encircled his tenderly, snapping him out of his funk, and Spamton whipped his head forward. His knuckles clenched tight on the wheel. “Well– let’s go!” He said a little too loudly.
Wiggling his fingers free he turned the key, making the ignition grind harshly. A bead of sweat ran down his temple.
How many damn miles were on this thing? He should’ve known it was too good a deal!
But after fiddling with the gearshift a little more, he managed to put the car into roaring drive and grabbed Tenna’s hand again, settling it on top of his own on the lever.
Thankfully, not that many Darkners drove in TV World. With no traffic, the ride to their favorite restaurant was too quiet- Spamton hadn’t remembered to turn on the radio, and he certainly couldn’t now, his non-driving hand busy being massaged. So instead, the air was filled only with Tenna’s ambient buzzing and hushed, melodic humming. Between his nerves and how hard he focused on the road, he couldn’t find any words. Usually Tenna was the chatty one between them, but tonight he decided to do Spamton no favors.
By the time they pulled in front of the valet, Spamton was sure his eyes must be completely bloodshot from the strain.
Somehow he managed to brake gracefully and remembered to put his car in park. He patted Tenna’s hand gently before extracting his own, pulled his coat out from the trunk, and hopped out.
Tenna’s crushed flower fell to the ground– he’d been gripping it like it owed him money against the wheel, and now it looked wrinkled and sad. Against his better judgement, he picked it up and shoved it in his pocket. Littering was bad, or something.
The Zapper manning the booth tapped their foot impatiently. Spamton stared blankly at them, before gasping out a soft “oh,” and fumbling for his keys. Typically they’d have Tenna’s driver handle the car, so he’d tragically forgotten about this part.
It didn't seem like Tenna had noticed, thankfully. In a few short strides he moved to stand beside Spamton, and both of them watched as the Cungadero disappeared around the corner. For the short walk inside, Spamton wrapped his black jacket over his shoulders. A light shiver ran down his sides where a thin layer of sweat had built up, especially where his arm was exposed from wrapping it (barely) around Tenna's waist.
The restaurant they frequented for after-work dinners was on the outskirts of TV World, on the edge of the snowy desert– a tall, two-story ivory banquet hall with 30-foot windows that let diners watch the snow falling outside. Out here, he and Tenna were nothing more than regulars (though Tenna’s height– and good looks, probably– attracted more than a few glances, he thought with a mix of pride and jealousy).
They were ushered quickly to the table they reserved on the balcony, which overlooked the rest of the dining room and had a panoramic view of the cliffs. The dim candle glow made their reflections ever so slightly visible against the pitch night sky. It was all so… romantic. The thought made his stomach churn, though not as unpleasantly as he would’ve liked.
Spamton’s hair was a mess, wind-blown and droopy with perspiration and melted snow even with how much pomade he’d used. Meanwhile, Tenna was practically sparkling, the water droplets on his coat instead making him look like he was covered in diamonds. Under Spamton’s intense gaze, Tenna smiled bashfully, leaning forward on gloved hands until their noses nearly touched.
Nervously, Spamton let out a strained bark and then kicked himself mentally. He reared back in the chair, slamming the menu down as a barrier between them, before peeking over it. “Youlooknice.” He mumbled, uselessly into the laminated paper, for the second time that night.
Thankfully compliments never lost their effect on Tenna, who twirled a finger through an antenna wire, his smile widening even more. “I love– your new coat. Black looks ever so dashing on you.” He folded his fingers elegantly again under his chin. His screen shimmered pink, sending a ripple of distortion through his smile.
A lump formed in Spamton’s throat. Getting praise from Tenna never got any easier. He was just lucky his natural reaction was to freeze and smile. He could at least be confident that Tenna assumed he was being cool and suave, not that he was gritting his teeth and stilling his breath, anything to stop his thrumming heart from leaping out his throat. It still managed to rebel by forcing a hot flush into his pale cheeks, the faint red light illuminating the menu.
Tenna noticed. Of course he noticed. He giggled fondly, nudging his shin under the table. Now Spamton’s heart was trying to choke him out of shame, his blush deepening as he sank down in his chair.
They’d been here so many times before. They’d probably sat together at every table but this one, drinking and laughing casually. But the thought of what would happen after this time was sending all his senses haywire.
Tenna was going to find him out. Oh, god, Tenna was going to find him out.
He’d flipped through so many instruction books on how to be a good lover, memorized dozens of different techniques that Lightners used to please each other, trying to prepare for whatever Tenna had going on. He’d even found Tenna’s user manual online, somehow (unfortunately, it only described his Light World form). But he had no practical experience— he wasn’t exactly popular, not before he became successful, and not even after.
What was he supposed to do? Try to pick up some random coworker without Tenna finding out? Hire a Cyber City prostitute? Or, Heaven forbid, ask the ADDISONS?
The thought of touching anyone else had made him sick. But now, he regretted not pushing through that feeling. He had somehow managed to bag the Mr. Tenna, and he was going to embarrass himself in bed after all his big talk. After all, he was the fuckin’ Lord of the world. Wasn't that just complete overkill? Even if he didn’t have his god-given powers, Tenna’s pure unfiltered charm and talent meant he would have always been somebody.
There was no way that a man like him was still a virgin, didn’t have sky-high expectations that Spamton could improvise and sweet talk his way out of, this time.
Now it was too late.
For a moment, he considered drinking himself sick and going home early. But the greedy, desirous part of him wouldn’t let him, watching Tenna delicately wrap his lips around his spoon, drops of creamy soup pooling at the edge of his mouth; listening to his partner breathily recount the latest studio drama; forgetting to breathe at the peek of throat under his unbuttoned collar, which he could fool himself into thinking was reserved just for him, at least these days.
… That was normal to want from your platonic business partner, right?
“Is there… something wrong, Spammy?” Tenna tilted his head. There was an obvious tremor in his voice. “You’ve been so quiet all night.”
And now look at him– a boring date partner as well. “Not at all, baby! Just enjoying the view.” He leaned forward with a grin that hurt his cheeks, twirling a fork of whatever the hell he ordered in the air. Noticing it was dripping sauce dangerously close to his sleeve, he dropped it unceremoniously. “Did I mention you look nice?” God, that was the third time.
There were so many other words he could use— gorgeous, sexy, stunning, like Heaven on earth— that didn’t even convey a fraction of the way Tenna looked tonight, and yet they still wedged in his throat, strained against his tongue, not daring to come out.
"Nn.” Tenna hummed, his mouth quirking up only slightly. One of his antennae fell to his shoulder.
There was no mistaking that look. “S-seriously,” Spamton waved his hands placatingly, relieved as both antennae perked and followed the movement of his fingers. “I really… just can’t keep my eyes off of you.” His voice faded into the drone of the dining room as he turned away, but Tenna seemed to catch it anyway, smiling in earnest now.
“I picked my outfit just for you.” Tenna chirped bashfully, a little quietly, making a tingle run up Spamton’s spine.
"You’re. Uh. Handsome.” Spamton mumbled into his lap as Tenna continued to stare at him expectantly, and was rewarded by Tenna taking his hands in one of his, turning to slime underneath his partner’s warm, encompassing touch. He pressed his thighs together, unable to stop his imagination from going wild at the scent of Tenna’s sweet cologne.
Tenna lifted his flute of champagne, Spamton’s view of him turning gold behind the crystal glass. “To us. I— to a long, long partnership.”
Spamton’s heart was squeezed along with his hand. He swiped Tenna’s thumb with his own affectionately despite himself. “To us. Long-term business partners.”
They clinked their glasses together and drank.
Thankfully, Tenna soon picked up the conversation, chattering about their upcoming schedule and recent ratings, all while his grasp on him never wavered. In fact, he’d taken to slowly inching his fingers up and into Spamton’s sleeve (bless/damn his oversized rental) maintaining his innocent look even as it made Spamton’s breath trip on his already-distracted words.
Excitement continued to suffocate him throughout the night, and he was forced to loosen his collar even as the air conditioning blew hard down his back. As he fiddled with it, Tenna slid a finger underneath, the silk so smooth on his skin. He gave him a gentle look of concern, forcing Spamton to swallow back a moan.
Odd thoughts overtook him then, a freezing/burning pain in the pit of his stomach. A vague sense of dread and jealousy wrapped around his lungs. He was absolutely, positively going to be the worst lay of Tenna’s whole life if he was already weak to these mild flirtations alone.
Again, his gaze dragged across Tenna’s magnificent, candlelit form. He wanted to burn this memory into his eyelids forever. Words pressed on his tongue, that he had kept locked in his heart for months now. If he just said them, could he trick Tenna, clingy man that he was, into staying with him and him alone? For sex, of course, but maybe…
Fear kept his teeth clamped shut. The humiliation of being vulnerable and honest followed by being an inexperienced loser would surely kill him. He could probably recover if it was just the one.
”I’m going to go freshen up.” Tenna said huskily, cocking an antenna in his own charming version of a wink. The implication made Spamton’s head spin, and he couldn’t help but turn in his chair to watch him go, eyes glued to his cinched waist until his coattails swung out of sight.
A harsh wheeze forced its way out of him then, the silverware rattling on the table as his forehead hit it. His whole body was wracked with exhaustion as his muscles all relaxed at once. He thought about also running to the bathroom to review notes, watching a couple of X-rated videos in an attempt to not completely embarrass himself, but it was far too risky. Plus, they'd never been above rutting against each other in the studio stalls.
Spamton threw back the rest of the bottle of champagne, but he couldn’t even convince himself that the scant amount of weak alcohol left could relax him. Covertly, he tried to sniff his armpits, promptly digging around in his pocket for his atomizer and finishing his cologne off too. He slicked back his hair in his compact mirror, then changed his mind and ruffled it, then slicked it back again.
”Ready to go?” Tenna’s voice from behind him made him jump, held down from launching onto the table only by the larger man’s hands on his shoulders.
”Buh?” Spamton said eloquently.
”I paid, so we can get out of here whenever you want.” Tenna beamed proudly, spinning his credit card between his fingers dexterously before holstering it like a gun in his inner pocket. He plucked Spamton’s jacket off the back of his seat and held it out for him to put on, screen blindingly aglow.
Spamton started mentally devising how to get the Addisons to give him back his old job.
As if in a trance, he let Tenna lead him by the hand to the valet, where he handed over his ticket and got back in his car. Tenna laughed as he made a snowball from the snow that had built up on his poor leather seats and tossed it at his face, a little too hard, though he didn’t have the energy or will to complain. They brushed the rest of it off, pulled up the hood, and drove away.
Spamton followed the empty road all the way to the farthest edge of the world, where the snow drifted gently around the tall, hazy cliffs that surrounded them. It was almost unnaturally quiet, the air itself feeling muted and thick as they sat on the hood of his car, curled tightly against each other for warmth.
Tenna was staring up into the black sky. He seemed to be in a good mood, not minding how wet his coat was getting, though Spamton had generously donated his own jacket to keep Tenna dry. It was practically a hand towel on his broad chest, but he clutched it so tightly against himself in both hands there was no way he could tug it back. He babbled on about the upcoming winter holidays and the new movies he wanted to run for the Lightner kids, screen glistening from excitement and the snow.
“Spamton?”
“Huh?” Had he been caught staring? Spamton rolled over onto his back and started trying to estimate how fast he could reach the cliffs if he ran.
Tenna sat up, blocking out half of the sky and peering down at him. His lips were pursed thoughtfully, but Spamton couldn’t be sure if that was good or bad. Once again, his antennae were pinned back, but they were twitching, making tinny little sounds as they glanced off the top of his casing. Steam rose from his vents, blowing snowflakes this way and that in the air. He drew in a deep breath.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“W-well, you know, we’ve been doing this,” Tenna gestured between them awkwardly, a light blush rising on his face. “For what, six months now?”
Wherever this was going, it couldn’t be good. It was becoming ever-clearer that he if he didn’t completely rock Tenna’s world tonight, it was all going to be over. “Oh, c’mon, Cathode! You know exposition makes for bad TV! Let’s save the heavy stuff for later and have fun now, yeah?”
“But–?” Tenna bit his lip, vexed. Spamton had to put his seduction plan into action now.
Step one, put a hand on Tenna’s thigh. He rolled over onto his shoulder, and looked up meaningfully at his partner’s red screen as he slid it deliberately up his leg.
Tenna gripped the back of his shirt, curled lips parting prettily at the movement. With a nervous little giggle he picked a snowflake out of Spamton's hair. He leaned in slightly, which set Spamton up nicely for step two.
Now Spamton pushed himself upwards, freezing for a moment as he tasted Tenna’s sweet, hot, alcohol-flavored breath, licking his lips despite himself. Then he wrapped his fingers around the back of Tenna’s neck, tangling them in the cables there, and pulled him in. This was familiar. He could handle this.
Spamton swiped his tongue along Tenna’s glassy bottom lip, nibbling its always surprising softness in a bid for entrance. As he deepened the kiss, he trailed his hand upwards tentatively, stopping just at the seam between hip and crotch, trying to work up the courage to touch him.
Underneath it, he could feel Tenna’s ever-tight pants strain. He was pretty sure Tenna had a cock, had felt it harden against his own on the many late nights they had spent feverishly grinding against each other. But Darkner anatomy was many and varied, and as humanoid as the both of them were, he wasn’t sure that Tenna would match what he’d seen in his research. There wasn’t much reference for when your partner was practically a demigod.
Demigod or not, he was analog technology. Unlike Spamton, he probably couldn’t change at will, or at least not as easily. He hoped that he would have the focus to adapt if he needed to, that being flexible would at least win him some points, even if he’d prefer not to.
Now Spamton palmed the front of Tenna’s slacks, feeling the shape of him underneath the smooth leather. He had never been sure that they were an appropriate match for his suit jackets, not to mention his show’s rating, but he would never complain about how they hugged the larger man’s hips. His mouth watered imagining Tenna’s arousal, emboldened at the physical proof that he was doing something right, even if he was just letting amateur desire guide him.
Spamton made to draw back, but Tenna tightened his grip, sucking Spamton's tongue in more deeply as he bucked up hard into his hand. The other man was usually so demure– maybe the censors couldn't bother him out here?
The thought quickly fled as Tenna grabbed him, flipping them over like he weighed nothing, and entwined their fingers to pin him down on the hood of the car. Tenna let out a strained, soft mewl as he slammed their hips together, back arching dramatically as he threw his head back. The Cungadero squealed as it bounced beneath them.
“N-need you,” Tenna whimpered, continuing to rut back and forth, gasping animalistically, vents steaming and turning the snow to rain around them. “Can we… now?”
“Okay. Yeah. Yeah, let's do this, babe,” Spamton breathed dizzily. Tenna was so huge and hard against him he had to hold back a whimper of his own, whether out of fear or jealousy or anticipation.
He couldn't stop his hand from trembling or grabbing Tenna's, jumping down to lead him to the passenger side. He opened the door and cocked the backrest all the way back, then motioned for Tenna to get in.
Obediently, eagerly, he did, and Spamton clambered in over him, slamming the door closed a bit too hard.
Tenna was watching him intently, gently encircling his waist with his huge hands. Spamton couldn't help but gulp. He spun, Tenna's grasp still warm on his stomach, and leaned over to start the ignition, clumsily turning on the heater. After a moment he remembered his plan, and fiddled with the radio. Rolling the dial in between his fingers felt somehow suggestive, making his movements erratic, but eventually he got to the right station. It was slightly staticky with their distance from the studio.
The singer's smooth voice soaked the air, the powerful bass thrumming through them.
“I didn't know you liked R&B,” Tenna said, tone low and sweet and intoxicating.
Spamton just nodded dumbly, taking a breath to get the courage to turn around. He could see his flustered reflection in the fogging windows.
When he did, he was greeted with the sight of Tenna reclining luxuriously like a centerfold, his antennae curled tight and bouncing against the roof of the car. He let the breath hiss through his teeth.
What step was he on again?
Luckily, he didn't have to think as Tenna pulled him in by the elbows, jamming their lips together hungrily as he ran his hands up and down his sides.
For his part, Spamton reached up, stroking and tugging the stalks of his partner's antennae, alternating between gentle and rough, in just the way he knew the other man liked. He couldn't help but grind his hips desperately against Tenna's ribs, lust finally winning out over nerves.
Tenna writhed under him, thrusting against his ankles thanks to their height difference. This seemed to frustrate him, but not enough to stop. “Spammyyyy,” he whined. “Please, please…”
“P-please what?” Spamton groaned into his cheek.
“Take me already…!”
The sound of Tenna's cries almost made him bust right there. He could swear he felt a vein pop in his forehead. “Take–?!”
Distressed, Spamton flipped through his mental notecards, trying to plan out what his next moves should be.
He was topping. Okay. God, Tenna knew what he wanted. Of course he did. How many times had he done this before? Was he even going to be big enough to satisfy him? How many people had touched his— business partner, before him?
Tenna shifted under him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He gave him a sheepish look. “Or I can, did you want me to-”
“No! I’m— a top!” You aren’t anything, you lying idiot virgin. You learned that word last Tuesday.
“Oh!” Heaven, Tenna looked pleased. He leaned back, his smile turning sly as he squeezed Spamton’s sides.
Ticklish, Spamton jerked, making Tenna gasp softly from the friction between them. His forehead flopped onto Tenna's shoulder. “Yeah. L-Let me make you feel good, Ant. Baby.”
“Please.” Tenna breathed.
Spamton firmly removed Tenna’s hands and slid down, straddling his lap. He buried his nose in the crook of Tenna’s neck and licked up the ribbed tubing as he stroked the divot between screen and casing. When he gently nipped it, Tenna shuddered, mewling impatient praise and gripping Spamton’s thighs almost painfully.
A bit harder now, he took a ridge between his teeth, feeling the soft plastic give way. Tenna’s electric pulse sped up, each ticking beat followed by little vibrating aftershocks. Spamton slid his fingertips down to his collar, bringing them to rest between the V to the tender spot where Tenna’s neck met his chest, the gap in his metal skeleton leaving it pliable under his touch. When he gently pressed inwards, slotting into the small space perfectly, Tenna let out a series of stuttered gasps, and Spamton could feel the barest hint of sharp nails against his legs.
From here was uncharted territory. Spamton pulled back, making sure to take his time removing Tenna’s brooch to place it into the cup holder. Then, breath held reverently, he set to work discovering his partner’s body.
First, came the buttons of his tailcoat. As each of them were pulled from their spots, the red velvet fell open around them like a curtain, tantalizingly revealing the outline of Tenna’s generous hips. Spamton’s hands shook as he finished off the lowest ones, as if there were some magical barrier repelling him from touching him, the patent leather of his pants so shiny he could practically see his reflection.
With difficulty, he tore his eyes away, looking back up at his partner, whose mouth was open as he watched him back. Labored breaths made Tenna's ample, silk-clad chest rise and fall.
Tenna shrugged his coat off to his elbows, letting Spamton help him pull the sleeves off fully and grazing his fingertips against Spamton’s wrists as they went.
Spamton luckily still had the presence of mind at least to set the fine coat down nicely in the driver’s seat, knowing how much Tenna hated getting his clothes dirty.
A lump formed in his throat at the thought of his next task. His gaze slid upwards again, to where the faint light of the snow outside and Tenna’s dimmed, pink screen caught in between the ridges of Tenna’s neck, illuminating the small (permanent?) indentations Spamton had left with his teeth. A shadow fell right in the opening of his shirt, not giving even a hint of what lay beneath.
As if moved by a higher power Spamton’s hands reached upwards, coming to a halt at the first button.
Tenna tipped his head back slightly at that and slid his grasp forward to cup around Spamton’s ass, pressing his thumbs into Spamton’s hips and dragging him forward against his belly. His mouth opened and closed rapidly, uncharacteristically silent despite it.
Spamton couldn’t help but struggle with the button as Tenna rhythmically grinded them together, holding back his moans when Tenna started to massage him firmly through his pants, hands easily encircling him down to his knees. Tenna had also buried his face into the side of Spamton's head, letting out harsh, hot gasps against him as he whispered his name.
In an attempt to steady himself, Spamton inhaled and exhaled deeply a few times. The second, third buttons pulled open more easily, Tenna’s silicone-covered chest coming into view. It was translucent, purplish grey, over more transparent-looking plastic that allowed glimpses of wiring and circuitry underneath. A few slots, cable jacks, dials, and buttons dotted the surface. There was also a tiny latch over his heart, a star-shaped thing that glowed and pulsed vigorously in its case.
"Oh,” Spamton couldn’t help but choke out. He leaned back, spellbound, eyes darting haphazardly as he tried to drink in the sumptuous vision before him. Like this, Tenna seemed even bigger and more grand than ever, his simple but elegant inner workings a sprawling, fascinating blueprint under Spamton’s hands.
Spamton’s lungs grew tight.
Further down, Spamton slowly revealed the soft rubberized tubing of his stomach, which shuddered and twitched with Tenna’s every breath. And then as he pulled Tenna’s shirt away completely, again setting it down in the driver’s seat, he got a little lightheaded, settling back onto his heels to try and calm down.
Despite not even being digital, Tenna seemed to shine even more brightly than Spamton himself did. His gaze traced from Tenna’s heart down, down, screeching to a halt just at the base of his stomach, where his final challenge still faced him. Anxiety and excitement both gripped him, making his hands tingly and numb where they hovered just above Tenna’s waist.
Under him, Tenna shifted a little, as if suddenly shy.
“… say something?”
“I,” Spamton choked. “You’re.”
"Yeah?”
"Wow,” was all Spamton could manage before he bit his own tongue. Real smooth, hot shot.
Tenna giggled softly, visibly relaxing.
Beautiful wiring aside, at least there hadn’t been any crazy surprises. Spamton couldn’t handle any surprises, not when his whole week’s worth studying was rapidly leaking out his ears, being replaced with raw thoughtless want.
Before he could go any more stupid, Spamton wiggled himself down into the cramped footwell, placing his hands on Tenna’s knees and parting them to slot himself in between.
He leaned in close, feeling the heat coming off of Tenna’s legs on his cheeks. Tenna’s cock strained against the fly of his pants, its outline pulsing dangerously through the thin fabric. Rapidly, Spamton became aware of the scent of his arousal, a musky mix of steam and oil, hot and moist and suffocating and delicious. He was forced to open his mouth, both to catch his breath and to take Tenna in more deeply.
He was going to have to take more than just that. Tenna’s cock generously filled his palm as Spamton massaged it, the springy heft enticingly pleasant in his hand.
Tenna whined low above him, gripping the center console tightly, the leather puckering under his half-unsheathed claws. Somehow, Spamton couldn’t even bring himself to mind, watching Tenna flush and bite his lip at every movement.
"Pleaaaseeee…” Tenna choked out tearfully, fingers brushing against Spamton’s coif. “Touch me for real, Spammy, I can’t take it…”
Spamton let out a strained moan at that, Tenna’s wanton pleas making his already painful dick ache. Muscles weak, he let the back of his hand trace up the elegant curve of Tenna’s calf, noisily clinking his belt open and making quick work of the button and zipper.
Tenna lifted up to let Spamton pull his pants down and off, leaving him in only his underwear.
And that underwear…
Stretched tight over his hips was a scandalously small amount of intricate white lace, the pattern offering tantalizing peeks of purple behind its innocently flowery design. A devastatingly tiny triangle of Tenna’s bare pelvis was framed in shiny silk ribbons, a tiny gold star charm holding the front of it together. Glossy pearls of precum seeped through the thin fabric, and Spamton couldn’t help but swipe it up curiously, shaking as its viscous wetness dripped between his fingers. Tenna’s smell was stronger here, a fresh chemical scent that sparked some starving, instinctual part of his brain.
Without thinking he brought it to his mouth, lapping at it tentatively before greedily sucking it all off, swirling his tongue around the webbing between his fingers to lick up every last drop. It was sweet and sharp with an undertone of bitter oil, and Spamton thought he might die if he never got to taste it again.
His gaze dropped lower, where Tenna’s crotch was demurely covered with the lace underlining of the panties. But they were bunched up unexpectedly, outlining a delicate cleft, the ghost of faint lilac behind translucent white.
As if possessed, Spamton’s chin dropped onto the seat in between Tenna’s legs, his nose pressing up against his plush thigh as he tried to get a closer look. He brought his quivering thumb up to it, and as he pressed it practically sucked him in, soft and dripping and hot.
Oh Heaven, he also has a-
Calm down! You studied for this!
But he wasn’t even remotely ready as he urgently tried to pull out and sort through plans that he’d already mentally filed away.
He hadn’t prepared for both. How the hell was he supposed to satisfy both when he had experience with neither?!
And god, the underwear. The lingerie. It fit him so perfectly, it made Spamton insane. Tenna was clearly no amateur, so ready for this, and he had been somehow seduced by a liar who had no fucking idea what he was doing.
“You’re being quiet again…?” Tenna whispered above him in between trembling breaths, kneading his hands together. “Is there something wrong…?”
“No, of course not! Just lie back, Ant-baby, I’ll—“ Spamton gulped down the huge amount of saliva pooling in his throat. “I’ll take good care of you.”
Well, improvisation was still his strongest skill. He prayed it could get him out of just one more sticky situation.
Gingerly, Spamton eased Tenna’s cock upwards and over the waistband of his panties, his huge arousal looking out of place above the pretty little charm that glittered at its base. With the back of his head against the glovebox, it still nearly touched Spamton’s lips, weeping thick precum that begged to be licked up.
With no warning, Spamton took it in as deep as it would go, not even getting halfway down before his throat cried out for mercy. At the same time, he slipped a finger into Tenna’s pussy, jerking reflexively against the floormat as its warm tightness closed in around him, pulsating in a needy embrace despite their difference in size. He gurgled a moan that was muffled by Tenna’s twitching dick filling his entire mouth, tears pooling at the edges of his eyes from the stretch.
Tenna was moaning too, nails scrabbling at the back of Spamton’s head painfully, powerful thighs clamping tightly around him until he could hardly breathe. His hips jerked unevenly, his sweet voice high and stuttered, drowning out the sounds of the radio and Spamton’s pathetic whines.
Gushes of hot liquid suddenly spurted down his throat and all over his hand. Unprepared, Spamton almost choked, fighting his gag reflex while painfully straining his eyes, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of how Tenna was arching his back. He mindlessly rutted against Spamton’s face now as he chased ever-more powerful waves of orgasm. Then, his huge body shuddered, pulling Spamton closer with legs and claws and pelvic muscles, filling all his senses with nothing but Tenna, Tenna, Tenna.
And oh, Spamton was in heaven.
Affection crushed his heart as he did his best to drink up every last precious drop of his partner, the heady, bitter flavor and scent making his eyes roll back in his head. Some dribbled out the side of his mouth and he caught it in one hand. Tenna continued to roll his hips against Spamton’s knuckles and Spamton obliged, gently thrusting upwards as Tenna mewled and panted and gasped, the soaked, supple, rubbery walls of his pussy squeezing him like a vise.
Then, too fast and too slow, Tenna relaxed and drooped above him, letting Spamton finally pull back to catch his breath, though he continued slowly rocking his hips against his pants. He wiped his face off with his sleeve. A different scent, more mild and salty, caught his attention, and he greedily popped his fingers one by one into his mouth, the cocktail of Tenna’s cum and slick making him drunker than he had been all night.
"Where,” Tenna managed through wheezing breaths, “Did you learn how to do that?” Tenderly, he brought the knuckle of his index finger to Spamton’s cheek. As if magnetized, Spamton pressed into it slightly before catching himself.
"Well, you know. I’m a big shot! Of course I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.” Spamton laughed too loudly, glancing off to the side. His chest puffed with pride and relief. “Didn’t I tell you I’d take care of you?”
"Oh.” said Tenna dully, threading his fingers firmly through Spamton’s sideburns.
Despite Tenna’s slight shift in tone, Spamton was still high on his success. Chuckling, he let his head fall onto Tenna’s thigh, breathing his warm scent in deep and closing his eyes. “What a night, huh, Tens? Ready to go home?”
“W-wait! What do you mean? Do you, we, you still haven’t…” Tenna sputtered and cleared his throat, pressing his index fingers together nervously. His antennae pulled flat against his head as he searched for the right words. “Spamton, it’s, um…”
Taking a deep breath, Tenna reached down for Spamton’s hand, bringing it back to his entrance. At the slight contact his hips bucked and he let out a shuddering gasp, grip tightening for a split second. “It’s not enough…” he said in a low, sultry tone, thrusting against his hand again more purposefully this time, wrapping his knees around Spamton’s neck. “Don’t you want to f– feel me?”
That caused Spamton to suck a harsh breath in through his teeth, his near-forgotten cock jumping painfully at his partner’s sweet seduction. Unconsciously he rutted against the floor again as the fantasy crossed his mind.
But then anxiety forced the blood from his dick into his brain, the rest of his body growing cold and jittery. His trial wasn’t quite over yet. “Not enough.” Of course a seasoned pro like Tenna wouldn’t be satisfied with just one round, just barely getting to third base, Tenna practically doing all the work himself.
But, well, maybe if a single finger had been enough, then…?
"Yeah.” The words spilled out of Spamton’s mouth before he could think it through. “Yeah, of course. I was just joking. I just thought maybe you couldn’t handle it!”
A tight smile stretched across Tenna's screen. “Wonderful! Then why don’t you let me return the favor? I have a few tricks of my own!” He pulled Spamton up by the armpits like he weighed nothing before settling him onto his stomach. His hands slid down to Spamton’s waist, gripped onto him so tightly it pinched. Again, he dragged Spamton across his crotch, hissing from overstimulation, leaving a streak of wetness across the fabric of his pants.
Despite his partner’s passion, Spamton couldn’t help but only hover his hands carefully over Tenna’s tempting stomach, roving his eyes over it instead. His gaze traveled where he dare not touch, again over the highway of wires and circuits just below the surface of Tenna’s ample form, his golden heart seeming close to bursting out of its glass case. He was being presented with a royal feast and didn’t know which fork wouldn’t betray his peasantry.
For a confusing moment, Tenna's smile faltered. He leaned back and whimpered beseechingly, hands half outstretched. “Spammy… Kiss me…?”
His gentle, quiet tone constricted Spamton’s chest tightly. Wordlessly, Spamton nodded, clambering up to lie against Tenna’s soft chest. With both hands he cupped the sides of Tenna’s screen, thumbs hooked into the bezel, and carefully lowered himself.
Spamton pecked nervously at Tenna’s lips, until his partner ran a shivering finger up his spine, coming to curl lightly against the back of his neck. Tenna sighed softly into his mouth, lips parting invitingly, and Spamton took that as a sign to slip his tongue inside.
Despite his size Tenna met him so delicately, lapping electricity down his throat and humming contentedly. He stroked the back of Spamton’s head, the static from his gloves curling Spamton’s hair.
Then, without warning, Tenna sat the both of them up, forcing Spamton to crane his neck to keep their mouths connected. Tenna slid his claw into the collar of his shirt, tracing around to the front to Spamton’s exposed chest. With one oversized hand he tried clumsily to unbutton it, his fingertips continually glancing off the metal, unable to find the friction to undo it. He grumbled cutely, frustrated.
“I got it.” Spamton breathed, seized with warmth. Though Tenna whined and grazed his hands as they left his face, he unbuttoned his shirt quickly, shrugging it off his shoulders and onto the floor of the car. In one quick movement he drew back to pull off his undershirt and back into the kiss.
His body tingled achingly where they met, desperate to be closer, and he leaned in more tightly, rising off his heels to slide both his arms around Tenna’s neck. Tenna’s rubberized chest caught on his, the fluffy static of his digital skin tugging between them. Tenna gasped at the sensation and Spamton couldn’t help but let out a grunt with him, feeling like Tenna’s heart was banging against him, begging to be let in.
Roughly now, Tenna began to run his hands all over Spamton’s body, though it took him no time at all to touch every last inch of his torso, squeezing and massaging anywhere he could reach. Spamton couldn’t be sure if he was breathless from that or how Tenna kept intensifying his kisses, sucking Spamton’s tongue in deeper and deeper. His moans crescendoed and vibrated around Spamton’s ribcage, filling Spamton’s stomach with bursts of fire.
Tenna had an easier time with Spamton’s belt buckle, managing to pinch it off and pull down his oversized pants. He took just a moment to run his thumb across Spamton’s ass, feeling his silky new boxers, before yanking them down unceremoniously, lifting Spamton in one hand to bare his body completely.
Then Tenna froze. Spamton’s pants fell out of Tenna’s grasp, belt clinking as it hit the floor. Spamton felt like some toy as Tenna manhandled him, boring holes into him as he turned him ever so slightly in his hand to examine him. Antennae clacked together as they bounced and pointed straight at him, wire stalks stiff and trembling. Under Tenna’s searing attention, Spamton’s ragged breath sped up, trying futilely to gulp down enough oxygen so as to not lose all brain function as blood once again rushed downwards.
Mouth hanging open, Tenna brought Spamton close to his face, wheezing hard, hot breaths over his stomach as the balls of his antennae ghosted over him curiously. He licked his lips audibly, sending a humid puff of air across Spamton’s crotch.
Spamton felt helpless but strangely more excited than upset, bracing his hands behind him against Tenna’s as he looked back at him.
Tenderly, Tenna pushed his nose against the length of Spamton’s side, finally engulfing the whole of Spamton’s cock in his warm, wet mouth before wrapping it in his velvety tongue.
Embarrassingly loudly, Spamton groaned at the feeling, losing his grip and falling back against Tenna’s palm, all the muscles in his neck straining.
Tenna keened luxuriously as he licked swirls, lapping up the underside before pushing the firm tip of his tongue against Spamton’s cockhead.
An urgent, rising pressure rapidly strained Spamton’s pelvis, and he grit his teeth, covering his mouth with both hands as he tried desperately to hold back. But Tenna’s attacks continued, and Spamton crushed his knees uselessly against the sides of his screen, anything to prevent himself from cumming instantly like the inexperienced virgin he was. He dug his nails into his palms, forced all the air out his lungs, counted down from one million, but still he drew agonizingly close to orgasm.
If you cum now, how the hell are you going to fuck Tenna?! He mentally berated himself, but the thought only made it worse, amplified further by the feeling of Tenna’s pleasured moans vibrating his whole cock at once. Spamton bit his lip hard, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent burning tears of effort from rolling out.
Then, with a loud pop, he was released. Spamton’s body sagged bonelessly like his strings were cut, drooping around Tenna’s fingers. His dick alone pulsed painfully in the suffocating heated air.
“Yeesh, tough crowd, huh?” Tenna laughed, voice small. His antennae quivered with effort to stay straight.
Spamton remained puzzled as Tenna lowered him back into his lap, angling his head away now, his nose flickering. A sniffle was harshly cut off as his screen went black, though his wobbly, strained grin stayed plastered over it.
“H-huh?” Spamton managed through labored breaths, vision finally focusing. He was alarmed as Tenna shrunk a few feet, pulling his arms protectively around himself and shivering. “Ant, somethin’ the matter?”
“No, no, it’s nothing.” Tenna laughed weakly. His head drooped, but he placed shaking hands on Spamton’s waist again. “I-I can continue! Just, let me…” He whipped around and pressed his hard, glassy screen feebly against Spamton’s lips in a halfhearted kiss, rubbed his waist once, reached around to drop his underwear to his ankles and kick it off.
Was he that unappealing? Did he already fuck up so badly that Tenna wanted to stop sleeping with him? But even through his insecurity-ridden thoughts Spamton could sense that that didn’t quite add up.
“Talk to me, big guy. You’re not usually like this.” Spamton said in what he hoped was a soothing tone, gently pushing Tenna back. But he only succeeded in making Tenna choke out a sob, guilt sending ice through his veins.
“Right! I’m also, uh, not like this now! Haha!” He moved in for another kiss, but was held back firmly with both of Spamton’s hands on his shoulders. That just made him shrink down a little more, antennae falling over his face with a tiny plink.
Alarm bells were fully ringing in his head now. What the hell had he done? “Tenna, c’mon. Please.” He urged. “I thought we were– weren’t you having fun?”
Tenna let out an anguished, halting wail. “That’s just it, isn’t it? Only I’m having fun.”
That made Spamton’s thoughts screech to a halt. “H-huh? The hell are you going on about?”
“Oh, it was just too obvious! How many others have there been, Spamton? How many others are there right now?"
“What?” was all Spamton managed to say, jaw hanging open.
“Don’t you dare patronize me. It didn’t feel good. Of course it didn’t! I don’t know what I’m doing, and you know it! Don’t try to pretend! I bet you think this is all real funny, don’t you?! If only it wasn’t for that gosh darn parental lock, maybe I would have been prepared, okay? It’s not my fault…” Tenna smashed his palms against his screen now, chest heaving violently. “Let me try again, please, I can do better. I can be the best for you, if you just let me. I-I know I can. I have to be!”
“You mean you’re a…?”
“It’s true, it’s true!” Tenna let out a muffled howl, anguished. “You caught me, okay?! I’m nothing but a– a— pathetic, OLD bachelor! That nobody has ever wanted! What’s wrong with me, huh?! Please tell me what’s wrong with me…” He was hardly taller than Spamton now, both of them fitting comfortably in the seat, and he only looked smaller as he curled more and more tightly into himself.
Unbidden, a laugh bubbled out of Spamton’s throat. Before Tenna could make himself any more miserable, Spamton flopped forward, tightly embracing Tenna’s neck, relief and fondness swelling through him.
Tenna brought his fists down to rest against Spamton’s shoulders unsurely. Huge globes of staticky tears wobbled on the still-blackened surface of his screen, glossy tracks streaking down to the bottom of his casing. He sniffled wretchedly, making a honking sound like a balloon being deflated.
“Me too.” Spamton admitted in a low voice, with another soft, bitter chuckle.
“You don’t have to lie to me to make me feel better, you know…” Tenna whined petulantly.
“I wish it were a lie. God, and I was nervous all week for nothing.” The realization made him bark out another, louder laugh, squeezing Tenna harder. Tenna made an indignant noise, but slipped his hands around Spamton anyway, giving him a squeeze of his own. “It’s just– really? You, the Mr. Tenna, a virgin?”
“Don’t make fun of me! I told you, it’s because of the parental lock.” Tenna grumbled. He buried his face into Spamton’s chest, his voice breathy and weak and vulnerable. “T-though no one else has ever asked me, either…”
“You’re kidding.”
“No…”
“But you’re.” Incredulous, Spamton pulled back to gesture with his chin. He still failed to come up with any words that could adequately begin describe the man under him. “I mean, just look at you. You’re a– damn hot piece of ass, is what you are.”
Tenna giggled a little. “Language.” he warned toothlessly, nuzzling into Spamton’s cheek.
Spamton rolled his eyes. “Tens, I just sucked your cock. I think we’re past that.”
“Nn.” Tenna’s grip loosened again, expression turning somber. “There’s… there’s something else, too.”
“Tell me.”
“But it might– you might–” Tenna frowned, breath and pulse quickening. “Spamton, what are we?”
“What do you mean?” Spamton said uncertainly.
“It’s just… I… what do you think of me?”
Spamton swallowed. The word was once again wedged in his throat, making it hard for him to breathe. “... I l– I like you. A lot.”
Tenna hummed inscrutably, his elbows dropping down to the car seat, only leaving his knuckles on Spamton’s sides now. But his hands were clenched tight to the point of shaking, and he pressed the bottom of his screen into Spamton painfully. “I’m afraid I like you a lot more than you like me.” His voice faded to a pathetic, almost unintelligible squeak. “Just like I do with everyone else. And, about you, I might…”
Spamton’s heart skipped a beat. He moved to embrace Tenna more firmly, sliding his arms underneath his chest to press them together fully. Say it.
“I just thought that maybe, if we slept together, you might come to l… like me more.”
“You mean you didn’t want to?!”
“No, that’s not it! I did want to. I s-still want to. Just,” Tenna’s pressure on his waist was hurting him now. “I really want you to stay with me. Just me. I want your love. I want to be more than… whatever we are, right now. … Gosh, I didn’t want to say all that. We’re not even d-dating. I know that! Please don’t leave.”
The word still refused to come out, no matter how much Spamton struggled, no matter how many times he flapped his mouth open and closed. He settled instead for sitting up, placing his hands gently on the sides of Tenna’s screen to turn his gaze back onto him. With his thumb he stroked the glass tenderly, before leaning down and placing a long, chaste kiss to his mouth. Spamton prayed to his benefactor, Heaven, whatever higher power, that his feelings would reach his partner.
Tenna’s lips slowly re-formed, softly nipping his back. He brought a gradually steadying hand up to place over Spamton’s, squeezing his palm hopefully.
They finally pulled apart, and Spamton stayed inches from Tenna’s face, the other man’s quivering little breaths still puffing warm against him. He couldn’t help but peck him again. “Y-yeah. That sounds good. Dating, or… whatever. More.” Spamton croaked out.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Ah.” Tenna brightened, a radiant smile stretching wide across his screen. A single petal shot out from his nose, followed rapidly by a huge red flower, almost as big as Spamton’s whole face, which bounced before eventually coming to a stop. His screen dusted over with pink, and his antennae curled lazily around each other, twitching excitedly on the headrest. “Is it okay if I say it? That I love you?”
Spamton’s heartstrings pulled violently. He nodded vigorously, still choking on emotion. “I think I’d– that’d be nice.”
At that, Tenna grinned lopsidedly, kissing his cheek. “I love you. … please say it back someday, okay?”
“Okay.” Spamton managed.
Tenna pulled the flower off his nose and tucked it into Spamton’s hair. He gazed up passionately, stroking Spamton’s cheek. “Now you owe me another one.”
“Ugh, man, you’ve been way too smooth all night. You had me completely convinced.” Spamton groaned playfully. “I was just… nervous. It felt… really good. You were really good. Why the hell are you so good?”
Tenna gave him a sly grin. “The PG-13 rating is a heckuva lot more generous than it used to be. You can even say ‘fuck’ once per show. … oops.” Then, his smile turned familiarly bashful. “... also, I was trying to impress you. I guess it worked?”
Overwhelmed with adoration, Spamton crushed Tenna’s lips with his own again, peppering him with kisses as Tenna giggled and squirmed under him. Petals continued to intermittently spurt out, and soon the beige leather of his seats was covered in a thin blanket of silky red, framing Tenna’s breathless body like some classical painting.
“Wanna keep going?” Tenna purred huskily. His screen was tilted away demurely, but he couldn’t hide it as he bit his lip hungrily, arching his back just enough.
Spamton’s cock twitched to life. “Heaven, yes.”
Once again Spamton slid down to Tenna’s lap, emboldened now to kiss as much as he wanted as he went, letting his lips explore the addictive suppleness of Tenna’s skin. His fingers traced behind, feeling the gentle resistance, and he finally gave in to his need to bite. Spamton’s teeth sank into the pliant tubing of Tenna’s stomach, shooting endorphins through his veins at the satisfying feeling. Tenna writhed as Spamton sucked and licked at it, flitting methodically from tube to tube, determined to mark up every inch of his partner.
Tenna was warm and soft under him, mewling breathily into his hair. His hips gyrated erratically, the gap between them becoming slippery with slick and precum. With his mouth he pulled off his glove, then slid his hand into the gap to wrap their cocks against each other.
The heat of Tenna’s naked hand and dick around him made Spamton grunt, low and harsh, vision going white for a moment as he tried to get used to the sensation. But Tenna’s grasp was so much firmer, and it engulfed him completely, alongside the gentle pulsing pressure of his own larger member.
Before he was ready Tenna pumped them both, and Spamton reeled forward, unable to hold back a humiliating, stuttered moan into Tenna’s belly.
But in turn, Tenna let out a pleased gasp, spurred on to work the both of them slowly, twisting his wrist and squeezing in different ways, as if trying to milk out whatever sounds he could. He grinded his hips more urgently, sometimes catching the base of Spamton’s cock in between his plush, soaked pussy lips, whimpering as he teased them both with the thought of thrusting inside.
Feeling the pressure building in his pelvis again, Spamton tried to pull away, but Tenna clamped his other hand down tightly, unwilling to give up the friction. “Stoppp, stop!” Spamton panted, but couldn’t help but jerk his hips upward against Tenna’s fingers, their huge, soft pads enveloping him tightly. No small amount of the wetness between them was from him, and intense pain/pleasure swelled up in his cock. He tensed his whole body, squeezing his eyes shut, trying desperately to stop himself from teetering over the brink. “Ngh, ahh if you k-keep- hh, going, I can’t, I won’t be able to–!”
At that, Tenna’s grip went slack, though his face was teary and red and breathless. A small amount of cum dribbled out of his vigorously twitching cock and he keened plaintively, gripping the seat with his claws to hold himself back. “Spammyyyy…” dripped out of his mouth with rivulets of drool, struggling for air, the ample curve of his chest rising and falling dramatically. Spamton could still feel the radiant heat of his arousal against his own.
Tenna’s voice quavered with undisguised want. He scooted around clumsily in the too-small car seat to wrap his knees around Spamton’s waist, barely restrained as he tried to pull him in.
Spamton tried his hardest to resist, but his strength faltered for just one moment at the desperate look on Tenna’s face. He was dragged forward, toppling down onto Tenna again, hot, sweet steam from Tenna’s vents forcing all other air out of his lungs. With a clipped cry he started to cum, only having the barest presence of mind to grab onto the base of his cock, gasping as unsatisfying, dull waves of pleasure thumped through it.
“I… told you to stop…” Spamton huffed sulkily, gnawing the inside of his cheek. Aching frustration welled up in his chest, and he willed it to stop, jamming his eyelids together to try and calm down.
“Was that because of me?” Tenna murmured in awe, ignoring him.
Spamton couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “You see anyone else around here?”
Tenna hummed above him. Even that one small sound was almost too much to take. Pointedly, Spamton drove a hand into Tenna’s leg in an attempt to maintain his distance until his breathing slowed.
When he opened his eyes again, Tenna was examining his bare hand, turning over the sticky threads of his cum in his fingers. His mouth was agape in amazement.
Spamton had to snap his head away as Tenna slid his fingers into his own mouth.
“Gross.” Spamton rasped halfheartedly, though the image was probably going to be burned into his brain permanently. His cock throbbed in his clenched fist. He exhaled shakily.
“‘s not.” Tenna’s chipper tone turned pitiful. “... was mine?”
Spamton sighed. “Of course not. Nothing about you could ever… be gross…” He trailed off, the admission making his cheeks burn with shame. The feeling was quickly squashed as Tenna reached down, caressing his face soothingly, regarding him with a smile that could only be described as rapturous.
His nose was blooming again, the biggest blossom he’d seen yet, the honeyed, grassy scent quieting Spamton's thoughts.
“Kiss me again.” Tenna pleaded.
Spamton rose up, stretching along Tenna’s body, Tenna caressing his back as he went. Once again he met Tenna’s pliant lips with his own.
Utterly besotted, Tenna mumbled dazed confessions of love into him, nipping at him, his sharp fangs so gentle and careful on his skin but still piercing into his heart.
When they broke apart, they were both breathing heavily, dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Spamton slumped, forehead against Tenna’s screen, the fuzzy feeling of static almost like a cushion on his skull. “Can I?”
“Please. Please.”
“God, why do you have to be so–?” Spamton reared back, shaking his head. He shimmied his knees underneath Tenna’s thighs, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets at the sight of his own cock, pressing so invitingly against Tenna’s inviting, trembling entrance. Beads of pearly white liquid drooled out sensuously, drawing Spamton’s gaze to the generous curve of Tenna’s ass. “So…”
Tenna keened wordlessly, shallowly thrusting his hips up. The head of Spamton’s cock dipped inside, so effortlessly with how wet Tenna was, and Spamton could have cum just from that. Ripples of hot pleasure spread up into Spamton's stomach, bestial desire rapidly tearing through his sense of reason.
Their relieved, ecstatic moans twisted in the air as Spamton slammed in, no longer able to hold back, digging his fingers into Tenna’s stomach. Inside was just as warm and tight as he could have dreamed, the walls of Tenna’s pussy constricting against him deliciously, practically sucking him in. He shuddered against his partner, once again trembling against urgent pressure, this time so intense he could feel his pulse in his ears. “Ugh, how do you feel so good, aah…”
“Me too, oh, me too!” Tenna was crushing Spamton between his thighs now, rocking against him needily, forcing Spamton to brace himself against Tenna’s hips lest he entirely lose his balance. His claws dug into Spamton’s back, sweetly painful, his bare hand gouging Spamton’s shoulder with blistering fire. “Spammy, yes, oh, I love you, I love you, please, don’t stop, please tell me you love me too, I want to be like this, with you, forever!”
“Ghk-” Tenna’s impassioned pleas were electrifying. Spamton’s heart hammered against his chest like it wanted to escape, to grant Tenna’s wish and nestle itself next to that shining golden star. It pulsated with light, looking like it was too big for its tiny case, sending blinding sparks racing up and down Tenna’s body. Spamton’s eyes watered, unable to look away, hypnotized like a moth to a flame. I love you! rattled around in his brain, just barely fizzling out before it could leave his mouth.
Now Tenna’s back arched euphorically, head thrown back against the seat and lifting his shoulders off of it. His antennae crackled and clanked together loudly, the whole car strobing with faint light as electricity flew off of them, indelibly burning tiny dark tendrils across the fabric of his roof. “Spamton, I love youuu—!” Tenna cried, his grip tightening as he hurtled towards orgasm.
“I– I–...!” Spamton’s voice was drowned out as Tenna started sobbing in the throes of pleasure, his hips pistoning up wantonly and slapping their hips together. Spamton’s chest and belly were drenched as cum spurted out of Tenna’s cock and cunt simultaneously. Tenna's pussy clenched hard, and Spamton gasped as climax was forced violently out of him. At that Spamton’s whole body shuddered, his tears making Tenna’s radiant form swim hazily in front of him. In his blurring vision his partner became a dazzling star himself, permanently dragging Spamton into his devastating orbit.
Spamton collapsed, weakly humping against Tenna as he rode out his orgasm, gasping and moaning pathetically as he instinctually struggled to breed him. Tenna’s legs stayed locked forcefully around his hips, so that he couldn’t even pull out if he wanted to, the ardent contractions of his walls wringing Spamton dry.
Even as Spamton softened and slipped out of him, Tenna continued to cling tightly, murmuring confessions with every last bit of his strength. Spamton could do nothing but hug him back, nuzzling meaningfully into his stomach, repeating the words back as loudly as he could, in his head.
Eventually, Tenna freed him, his knees knocking against the glovebox as his feet dropped to the floor, lazily rubbing circles into Spamton’s back.
Spamton felt around for his undershirt, picking it up and using it to sluggishly mop up the briskly cooling fluids between them. He tossed it back down, grabbing onto Tenna’s forearms so that he could be pulled up next to him. There he nestled into Tenna’s neck, Tenna turning to encircle him entirely in his embrace, warm and satisfied.
The DJ warbled something over the radio, and a jazzy, smooth duet started playing, their hearts adding a percussion line only they could hear. The windows had entirely fogged over, but the car was also covered in a thin layer of snow, the vague outlines of where they’d laid ever so slightly visible. Flower petals were stuck to Tenna’s body everywhere, and looking down, the same was true for him.
“I’m so, so happy to be your first.” Tenna sounded giddy, shallow breaths tickling Spamton’s temple. “... and that you’re mine.”
“Sorry if it sucked.” Spamton deadpanned.
“It wasn’t good for you?”
“Don’t make me say it.”
Tenna’s fists clenched lightly against his back, a quiet whine escaping his throat.
“Ugh, fine… I– I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that, in my entire life.”
“So it was good?”
“Yes, Tenna. It was,” Spamton inhaled until his lungs hurt. “Incredible, okay?”
That air was squeezed promptly out of him. “I love you,” Tenna murmured, pressing a kiss into his forehead.
“... yeah.”
“Thanks, Spammy.” Tenna hummed affectionately, seemingly content enough. He threw a leg over Spamton, wrapping him in his arms securely, his heart slowing peacefully against Spamton’s forehead.
Spamton sighed, finally relaxed enough to close his eyes, and let himself melt back into his partner. He’d have a long, long time to try again, after all.