Work Text:
The prop closet, Tenna was just now realizing, was far too small for the amount of stuff the studio had accumulated. The sheer volume of various things jammed into this tiny space was absurd- how had he let it get this bad?
“This it?” Spamton held up a small bag full of plastic letters, hopeful that their search would finally be over. Tenna bumped his head on a shelf as he stood and turned towards the addison, a few objects clattering onto the floor from the impact.
“No, there should be a bigger set somewhere.” Tenna asserted as he continued rustling through the various piles of what one might consider garbage, determined to find exactly what he’d set his mind on. The pippins had been useless, giving up after only a few minutes of searching. If anyone was going to find these stupid letters, it was either going to be him or Spamton.
The addison sighed as he rested his hands on his hips, fed up with Tennas stubbornness. “Tens, I think maybe we should consider makin’ do with the next best thing. You really think a letterboard is gonna affect ratings?”
It came off as a question, though that wasn’t really how he’d meant it. Spamton knew that nobody but Tenna would even notice that they were using a different set of letters, but he was so in his head about perfection, and though Spamton understood to an extent, there were times where it caused unnecessary stress. Like now, with both of them waist deep in piles of who knows what, trying to find some prop that, for all he knew, had been thrown out years ago.
Tenna didn’t even pause his search as he responded, voice sure, unwilling to budge. “Spamton, you know how important my show is to me. If I can’t have the best, I’d rather have nothing at all.”
Spamton let out a resigned breath as he dove back into the shelves, surrendering himself to Tennas whims. When it came to the studio, it was his way or the highway, and that was a fact Spamton had learned to accept. He could hear Tenna grumbling about how dark it was, the crinkling of plastic the only other sound in the room. Spamton prayed that after this, Tenna would finally decide to store their props in a larger space; preferably one with a light. Why he’d settled on this closet he’d never understand, but he figured it had something to do with its proximity to the stage. It was in the closest corner of the green room, after all. He could demand an item and have it in under a minute, assuming it wasn’t nestled at the bottom of a mountain of junk.
Another stretch of time passed with no success, and just as Spamton was about to throw in the towel, the closet door slammed shut behind them, the voices of two darkners passing by before they exited on the opposite side of the room.
“Shit!” Spamton yelped, staggering at the loud noise. He let out a breathy chuckle as he straightened his tie and slicked back his hair, attempting to regain his composure. “Fuckin’ bastards scared me!”
“Language, Spamton!” Tenna bristled, hitting his head yet again, seething in annoyance. “Not at work!”
Spamton crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. “Who’s gonna hear me, your precious censors?”
“I don’t know, maybe!” Tenna hissed, trying and failing to move away from the addison. They were forced to stand body to body now that they weren’t digging through the shelves lining the walls. Spamton could feel Tenna growing unintentionally as his frustration rose, his antennae scraping against the ceiling.
“Come on cathode, let's just get outta here and take a break.” Spamton grasped the doorknob and turned, surprised to find that it wouldn’t budge. Weird. He tried again, the opposite way this time. Still nothing.
“Think your door’s jammed, big guy. Mind giving me a hand?”
Tenna grew a few more inches, his anger visibly giving way to anxiety. Spamton was hit with the realization that maybe the door wasn’t jammed. Maybe…
“Your stupid prop closet locks from the outside?!” The addison threw his arms out in disbelief, turning to face Tenna. “Why would you even think about having a room like that? Freak behavior!”
“Ugh, I don’t know!” Tennas screen turned a bright shade of pink, his hands wringing as he fought to gain some personal space. “At the time, it seemed like it wouldn’t matter either way. This closet is so small, I figured nobody would ever close the door! Why would they?!”
Spamton drew his hands down his face, foot tapping impatiently.
“Please tell me you at least have a key.”
Tenna looked away before opening his mouth, then promptly shutting it.
“Oh for Angels sake.” Spamton sighed, the air in the closet already getting stuffy. Tennas huge body taking up most of the space wasn’t exactly helping, his vents puffing hot air as his fans worked overtime to keep him calm. “Tens, quit freakin’ out. You claustrophobic or something?”
Tenna shifted his head, trying his best to look away from Spamton. The pink on his screen was slowly deepening to a bright red, a taut expression pulling his mouth wide. “No, it’s just, um-” He stuttered out, tripping over his own words, “I just can’t help but notice that, uh, you’re, uhh-” He grew just a little more, neck arched in a way that looked horribly uncomfortable. His face was trained down at Spamton, who was now looking back at him, one eyebrow cocked up in questioning. “Spammy, I… I really can’t, um-” he began again, his height now forcing him to stare down at the addison, “you, uh, are standing. Right in front of me.”
Spamton, unamused, bit back an insult, instead settling on something a bit nicer. “Yeah cathode, I know where I’m standing. What about it?”
Tenna bit his bottom lip, another puff of hot air crawling out of his vents.
“Spamton, stop doing that.” He practically whined, shifting in place. One of his hands went to rest on the ceiling, a futile attempt at steadying himself. His other hand was braced against a shelf, his body caging Spamton against the door.
“Stop doing what?!” He bit back, throwing his hands in the air. His feathers were starting to puff up, his defenses raising as Tenna seemed to insinuate he was doing something to mess with him on purpose. As much as he loved fucking with the guy, he didn’t appreciate being accused of it when he wasn’t actually doing anything.
Anger swirled around the room, the atmosphere tense. Between the heat, the enclosed space, and Tenna freaking out for no reason, there wasn’t any place left for comfort. Spamton could feel a volatile buzz surrounding them; one that was putting both him and the CRT on edge. Tenna broke the silence, jaw clenched as he shifted his weight between his feet.
“Dang it Spammy, you’re such a-”
They both froze, eyes widening as they heard the stage door open once again, overlapping voices carrying through the green room as a group of darkners made their way into the room. The pippins- those annoying voices definitely belonged to pippins- all chattered over each other, laughter laced between words as they walked over to what could only be the bar. Spamton, though he really didn’t want to owe the pippins any favors, knew that if he didn’t want to suffer a heat stroke, he’d need to ask for their help. Resigning himself to the pathetic task of calling for them, he lifted his fist towards the door and opened his mouth, prepared to shout. His knuckles didn’t make it to the wooden surface in front of him- before he could utter a single word, he felt Tennas huge hands grab him, one pulling his readied arm back, the other covering his mouth, fingers digging into his cheek.
“Mmmph!” Spamton let out a grunt as his body was dragged backwards into Tennas huge legs, head held against his silicone stomach. What was his problem?!
He tensed against Tennas grasp, kicking his legs as the TVs grip just tightened, the air growing warmer and warmer with each second that passed. Spamton yanked his head up, glaring at Tenna as the larger man just stared forward, gaze glued to the door, teeth bared in… worry? No, no that wasn’t it. Spamton knew what worry on Tenna looked like, and it wasn’t this- this was more like... no. He’d seen this expression too many times to count, but here, now? There was no way, right?
To confirm his suspicions, Spamton tilted his head back, trying to angle his body so he could press even further into Tenna. Once he wriggled enough, he felt Tennas hold loosen just a smidge; bingo.
“Sp- Spamton!” Tenna gasped as the addisons back raked against his bulge. He was hard. Holy shit.
Spamton grinned under Tennas palm, taking advantage of the moment to escape his hold completely, turning around so he was face to face with the outline of the larger darkners cock. The TV had grown so much that Spamton only measured up to his waist, limiting his vision to nothing but the tent in front of him. Spamton brought his hands up to the soft flesh of Tennas synthetic thighs as he kneaded them gently through his too-tight pants, letting his warm breath curl around Tennas midriff.
It was enthralling just watching Tenna try his absolute hardest to squirm out of the situation, making a valiant effort to move away from the addison all while not making any noise. It didn’t work, obviously, but Spamton couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle as Tennas long arms bumped against the walls, the cathode whimpering as he came to the realization that there wasn’t any way to escape the situation. He really didn’t want to look at Spamton, who was staring up at him, eyes half lidded, a stupid, knowing smirk on his face- but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He was too tall, and the room was too tiny, and Spamton was just so close to him, each breath tempting Tenna closer to sin.
“Spammy, can you please just pretend that this isn’t happening.” Tenna pleaded, teeth clenched. “We’re at work, this is highly inappropriate.”
Spamtons grin widened, his hands moving further up Tennas thighs as the TV sucked in a breath, his knees locking. “How can I pretend it’s not happening when it so obviously is?” Spamton purred, unwrapping the CRTs package with his eyes. “Come on Tens, stop actin’ all coy, we both know what you really want.” Tenna made a small sound as Spamton finished his sentence, one of his gloved hands shooting up to cover his mouth. He could still hear the darkners at the bar, chatting away, none the wiser as to what was going on just a few meters behind them.
Spamton felt Tennas dick twitch.
“Bein’ all secretive like this getting you off, big guy?” Spamton half joked, testing the water. Tenna didn’t respond, but the addison saw his hands flinch, sharp claws forming points at the tips of his gloves. “Seems like we both know the answer to that one, huh?” Spamton sank his fingers into the soft plush of his thighs, leaning closer to his clothed shaft. With a smirk he closed the gap, mouthing the outline of Tennas length through his slacks, staring up at his blazing red screen with a teasing glint in his eye.
The pippins at the bar suddenly laughed loudly, their annoying voices filtering noisily through the door. Unbidden, Tenna jerked forward, clawed hand scratching jagged lines of paint off of the ceiling as the other threaded through Spamtons hair, pulling him closer. The addisons thoughts spun out of control as he watched Tenna buck forward, forehead creased as he tried to get himself under control. Fucking hell.
“Spammy…” Tenna, even through his words, continued to hold Spamton against his damp groin, relishing in the way he looked up at him as he licked and sucked, nearly making out with his zipper. “This is so wrong.”
“Seems like that’s why you like it, you fuckin’ pervert.” Spamtons words, muffled by the fabric against his mouth, had Tenna caught in a devious trap. If he denied it, Spamton would sense he was lying, and if he confirmed it… well dang. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.
Spamton brought his hands up to the TVs belt, working quickly to unfasten it as his train of thought was completely derailed. Tenna sucked in a sharp breath as the first layer of fabric was removed, his slacks carelessly dragged down his legs. Those pippins were still out there, impossible to ignore with the volume they were conversing at. The sound of their voices permeated the fickle privacy of the closet, constantly reminding Tenna that they were, in fact, not completely alone. Disturbingly, this only drew him deeper into the fog of lust lining his thoughts.
“What if someone comes in?” Tenna whined, voice strained, hips trembling with anticipation. He was stroking the back of Spamtons head, obviously trying to reason with himself- always thinking too hard, worrying about the consequences.
Spamton pulled back, a line of spit dripping down his chin, making him look unfathomably filthy. “Then we give ‘em one hell of a show.”
Tenna moaned pitifully, hips twitching at just the idea of getting caught. Spamton probably should’ve guessed that he’d be into this; he was a television after all. It was his purpose to be watched, to be consumed. Even so, if someone did walk in on them, he knew Tenna would be horrified. He’d be ashamed, and apologetic, and angry. But what else?
The CRT had always been more uptight than Spamton, especially at work. The more intimate side of their relationship, according to Tenna, was strictly personal, and nobody at the studio needed to know that they were more than business partners. Spamton was fine with it being like that- he really was- but he couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t a little exciting to imagine everyone finding out. He could see it now; one of those poor pippins opening the closet door to find their boss, disheveled and strung out just because of a little addison from Cyber City, his cock shoved into one of his holes. Spamton would put money on Tenna cumming the second that the doorknob rattled- he was achingly sure the CRT would get off on being seen like this, even if he later vehemently denied it. He likely knew Tenna better than he knew himself.
Spamton, not one to shy away from a spotlight, wanted that attention more outwardly than Tenna ever would. He was proud that he was the one who was allowed to have the lord of this world like this, to be the one who drew those pretty little noises from his speakers. To touch his huge, sensitive body- receive his praise, his pleads, his adoration. That was all for Spamton. Tenna was his. Anyone who happened to see that? More power to him. Spamton began palming himself through his slacks just from those thoughts alone, Tennas briefs soaked through with spit and the steady stream of precum that had been seeping from his cock. Tenna turned his head to the side, gritting his teeth as he tried to resist the urge to watch Spamton lap at his underwear like it was the tastiest meal he’d had in weeks.
“Look at me, cathode.” Spamton coaxed as he drew his head back for a brief moment, drawing his nails lightly down Tennas hip.
The TV barely hesitated before giving into the words, his screen darkening at the sight of Spamton nuzzling his bulge, hand dipped below his own waistband as he tended to his writhing appendage.
“Angel Spammy-” Tenna huffed, the temperature in the room rising a few degrees.
“You get me like this.” Spamton started, hooking his fingers over the top of Tennas briefs. “Nobody else. You.” The last layer of fabric was pulled down over his eager length, Spamton gently kissing the base as the grip in his hair tightened. “Let them see. Show them that I’m yours.”
Tenna choked back a moan as he sank to his knees, his free hand bracing himself against a lower shelf, a few props clattering to the floor. His feet clumsily jutted out in front of him, hitting the two sides of the wall next to the door, knees bent so his legs would fit in the tight space. Spamton followed suit, kneeling between Tennas legs, pulling his own slacks and boxers down to his knees. Though Tenna now had room to turn his head comfortably, his screen still cast a soft glow over Spamton, neck craned, by choice, to watch the addison tend to his arousal.
“Good Tenna, that’s good.” Spamton hummed, kissing the head of his cock before wetting his lips and dragging them from base to tip.
Tenna shakily brought a hand to his mouth for the second time, muffling any noises that threatened to spill, the top of his screen bunched up in desperation. He’d already made too much noise getting onto the floor- anything more and they’d be risking their precarious position. Any worry was momentarily thrown to the wayside as Spamton practically unhinged his jaw, abruptly taking Tennas massive length almost halfway down his throat, a shaky groan escaping the TV as his entire body tensed, hands landing flat on the carpet for support. Spamton worked at a maddening pace, a hand squeezing the base of Tennas dick as he bobbed his head, slowly swallowing him before lifting his head again. He made sure to maintain eye contact, watching as every little noise from outside the closet unravelled Tenna further; every snicker, every sentence, every word pulled another erotic noise out of the TV, his hips bucking up in tandem with Spamtons ministrations. One of Tennas hands cautiously slid around the back of Spamtons head, urging him to take him deeper, but not forcing him down. Spamtons eyes narrowed as he realised that this overgrown bastard wasn’t being nice; he was still worried about how much noise they were making. If Spamton gagged on his dick, they’d be caught for sure, and, in Tennas mind, his reputation would be ruined.
If he was going to be that way, so be it.
Spamton relaxed his throat and forced his own head down, taking Tenna to the hilt. The CRT choked back a broken moan, the hand over his screen not doing anything to hide the desperation in his voice; the pure, unadulterated want. Spamton felt him tense up, panic overtaking Tenna briefly as he realized how loud he’d just been. He stilled, holding Spamtons head against his waist, fully sheathed in his throat as he listened, gauging the situation. Spamton flailed helplessly as his breath was taken from him, his airway plugged up by Tennas dick, unable to do anything but kick his legs as he swallowed once, twice, around him. Tenna grunted, his hand flinching back as he snapped out of it, apologizing under his breath when he realized what he’d been doing. Spamton released his length with a ‘pop!’ as he caught his breath, looking at the CRT with a fiery expression.
The pippins were still chatting away- they were safe.
The room had, at some point, gotten hazy, both Spamton and Tenna producing copious amounts of heat, the air in the closet oppressive. The feathers on Spamtons neck fluttered as they tried to keep his body cool, pushing out as much heat as they could, his slacks low enough for his tail to flop onto the floor behind him, lying limp from the moisture clogging the air. He knew Tenna had a first class view of his body from up there, and he wasn’t one to waste an opportunity to get him even more worked up than he already was.
Tenna writhed and gasped under his touch as they listened to the commotion at the bar, the sounds fueling their immoral desire. Breaking the monotony of the pippins’ voices, the sound of glasses clinking rang out- Ramb was the only one allowed behind the bar, and they both knew that he hadn’t come in today. Whoever was back there was most definitely not supposed to be, and Spamton knew that if it had been loud enough for him to notice, Tenna wouldn’t be far behind. Just as predicted, Tennas body stiffened as he seethed, antennae shooting forward as he picked up on the sound, unable to suppress the rage flooding his body. Tenna was their boss, and they thought they could do anything without him knowing? As soon as he found out who was back there, he was going to-
Spamton suddenly stood up, climbing onto Tennas lap. The mailman straddled his extensive waist, trying his damned hardest to be distracting, but Tennas controlling nature was indomitable. Getting him to ignore the little rulebreakers was going to be a tremendously difficult feat, but Spamton always liked a challenge. He shimmied forwards until his clothed bulge pressed against Tennas bare dick, sandwiching it between their bodies.
“What’s got your antennae in a twist?” Spamton twitted, a shit eating grin stretched across his face. His hands moved to explore under Tennas dress shirt, all light touches and fleeting attention. Distracting. “You mad that they’re helping themselves to your liquor?” Spamton pressed his chest against Tennas, reaching up to trail a teasing finger down his neck. The CRT leaned further back into the shelves behind him, a few props rattling, setting him on edge again. He swallowed dryly as he forced a nod, turning his screen away from the addison.
Spamton reached just a bit higher, grabbing the side of Tennas chassis, manually shifting his attention back to him. “Is this really something worth revealing our position over?” He prodded, licking his lips as he stared up at the screen looming over him. A finger trailed over one Tennas vents, eliciting a fleeting shudder from the TV, the tubing in his neck bulging. “Or are you just trying to find an excuse to get caught?”
“Of course I don’t wanna get caught-” Tenna hissed, his hips betraying him as they rolled upwards into the addisons soft frame. “I just-”
“You know I can feel your cock twitching.” Tenna snapped his mouth shut, his face reddening once again. Spamton stood briefly to rid himself of his boxers, kissing Tennas screen before sitting back down on his lap, finally skin to ‘skin’. “As much as I’d like them to see what I get to help myself to after every show, I don’t exactly trust any of the pippins to keep their traps shut.” Spamton cooed, dragging himself over Tenna, teasing. Every time his hips shifted backwards, he could see the head of Tennas dick poking out from under his button up, the tip beaded with pre. “You really want an audience, I’m sure we can find some better options.” A massive hand wrapped around his torso, dangerous claws poking his waist as Tenna encouraged the addison to move faster. Spamton laughed under his breath, a wicked thought traveling straight from his brain to his lips before he could stop it. “I have a feeling Ramb might take us up on that offer.”
Tenna shuddered, fangs sinking into his bottom lip as another puff of steam rolled from his vents, fans screeching in his chest as they worked overtime to keep him from overheating. Spamton just grinned, sultry gaze still trained on the CRT as his sensitive cock twitched at the mere suggestion.
“For now though, let them be.” Spamton purred, back arching as he pressed harder into Tenna. “We aren’t exactly following the rules either.” Tenna had lost the ability to speak, his mind focused solely on the addison grinding on him, the feeling of his soft body reducing every other thought to mush. “So strict, getting upset over a few measly drinks.” Spamton tsked, resting his arms on Tennas shoulders, pulling his head down by the back of his neck, their noses almost touching. Tenna clenched his jaw, drool dripping down his chin. “While we’re about to fuck in a closet during business hours.”
Tenna whined as his grip on Spamtons waist tightened, claws tearing thin lines into the fabric adorning his upper half. He pressed Spamton harder into his lap, the head of his cock sliding over his entrance, pleading. Spamton keened as Tenna lifted his ass, tilting his body forward before he had any time to react. His face was pressed against the TVs chest, his neck bent to accommodate the new angle. His cock wriggled as Tenna lined himself up, Spamtons own arousal wrapping around his dick to pull him closer, coaxing him forward.
They were really gonna do this.
“Tens, this is insane, your fuckin’ employees are right there.” Spamton grinned, itching for more. Their sex had gotten kinky in the past, but never like this- this was borderline deranged. Not that he was complaining. “You plannin’ to screw your business partner in front of everyone? Sick bastard.” Tenna choked back a sob as he pulled Spamton down, the head of his cock breaching the addisons tight, wet folds. Even with just the tip inside of him, Spamton could feel that this was going to be so deliciously overwhelming. “Bet even if they came in here and saw, nobody’d believe ‘em if they blabbed about it. They could tell every darkner here that we’re fucking and not one of ‘em would believe it.” He could hear Tenna holding his breath, waiting for him to continue. “Their dutiful, family friendly boss, doing something so obscene?”
Tenna pulled Spamton lower, stuffing him as quickly as the addisons small body would allow, spurred on by his humiliating words. The stretch, like Spamton had known it would be, was intense; it was something he’d never get used to. That’s what made it so fucking good.
“But I betcha they’d think about it.” Spamtons voice dripped like honey. “They would turn in for the night, and they’d reconsider it- what if? What if Mister Tenna and that addison from Cyber City really had been fucking in the closet?” Tenna squeezed Spamtons ass, both men shivering out hot breaths as they savored the high. “What would that big, bad TV look like, all desperate, like a run of the mill whore? Screen all red, not able to hide those shameful claws and fangs.” Spamton reached up and stuck his hand in Tennas mouth, opening his jaws, baring his teeth. “Bet they’d imagine you big.”
Tennas hips jerked upwards, closing the gap between them as he whined, fully bottoming out. Spamton couldn’t do anything but shiver, eyes wide as he let out a gasp, feathers ruffling up all over his body, the stretch making them both delirious.
“Fuck big guy, you- ah- really do love attention, h-huh?” Tenna wasn’t listening. Not anymore. All he could do was sit there and tremble as Spamton lifted himself up and dropped back down, hard and fast. “Can’t- hah- get enough of it, even when you- you’re like this. Moaning and desperate for me.” Tenna growled wordlessly as his massive dick punched Spamtons insides, watching the addisons stomach distend to accommodate him below his shirt.
“Angel Tens, you- fuck- you’re so- mmmff-!”
Tenna let go of Spamtons waist with one of his hands and brought it to his mouth, two gloved fingers sliding past his lips, effectively gagging him. The massive hand still on his bottom half easily lifted him up and turned him around so was facing away from the CRT, trapped between his legs, face dangerously close to the door.
“No more talking.” Tenna breathed, using a thumb to bend Spamton forward at the hips, his ass and tail now on perfect display. He knew Tenna was watching as he shallowly thrust into the addison, hot air from his vents sliding up his back. Spamtons nose was practically touching the door- he could hear the pippins at the bar frighteningly well, able to make out almost every word.
Tenna began fucking into him at a torturous pace, deep but painfully slow, careful to stay quiet. His fingers lazily moved in Spamtons mouth, unconsciously matching the pace of their hips as the rest of his hand wrapped around his head, holding it up, gluing Spamtons eyes to the door. Spamton hummed around the digits in his mouth, his tongue rolling around them, sucking lazily as he let Tenna fill him from every angle. He could hear mumbled praise behind him, Tenna keeping it under his breath as he bit back any other sound that clawed its way to the surface. Drool ran down Tennas hand, soaking his glove as well as the carpet, but neither of them could bring themselves to care. Not while Spamton met every thrust, the soft plapping of their bodies muffled by the soft floor and cluttered shelves. Tenna was getting sloppy; he moved his hips faster, gripping a shelf to keep himself from falling forward, the props on it clacking against each other with every movement. He was close- his hips jerked wantonly, cock swelling as he scrambled towards his peak. Spamton wasn’t far behind, the tight wad of heat in his gut threatening to explode every time Tennas hips crashed against his own.
“Fuh- Sp, Spammy-” Tenna sobbed, pushing his fingers down Spamtons throat as everything but sensation retreated from his body. “I- I’m-”
One of the pippins at the bar said something in their direction before the clacking of shoes could be heard, each step getting louder than the last. Someone was headed their way.
“Oh, pl- please, I can’t-” Tenna whimpered before desperately slamming himself into Spamton, releasing his grip on the shelf to pull the addison flush against him as he came. A third finger slotted itself into Spamtons mouth, palm still pressed hard against the side of his face, holding him. Distantly, Tenna whispered some combination of words, but Spamton was so close, and Tenna was so hot, and his spend was taking up any space it could find, and-
A shudder wracked Spamtons body as he reached his own high, eyes rolling back as he moaned around Tennas fingers, dick pulsing, leaving a puddle below them. His arousal squirmed, dripping as he drowned in the feeling of Tenna everywhere. Above him, around him, in him. He felt his walls convulsing as he laid there, riding out his orgasm, taking everything Tenna would give him. Spamton could hear someone shushing him as the fog in his brain began to clear, blinking a few times as he tried to look at Tenna, finding no success. A heavy hand kept his head pinned, fingers stuffed down his throat as Tenna struggled to keep him quiet, Spamton feebly kicking a foot against the TVs knee, doing a poor job of fighting back. He was lightheaded, overheating- not to mention Tennas dick was still inside of him. He was gonna pass out.
Realizing he needed to breathe, Tenna released Spamtons head, the addison choking weakly before he was shushed again. Spamton, now that he was able, turned to look at Tenna. He was met with a black screen, only visible due to the soft glow emitting from his own body. Swiftly, the memory struck him.
They’d heard someone coming, hadn’t they?
Spamton whipped his head back around, two shadows projecting themselves beneath the crack under the door, splitting the light. Tenna sucked in a breath as the lock clicked from the opposite side, the knob turning ever so slowly. The addison stifled a snicker as he imagined what might be about to happen; this poor pippin was about to scar himself for life.
Just an inch. That’s how far the door opened before Tenna surged forward, slamming it closed once again, hard enough to splinter the wood. He shifted inside Spamton, who laughed breathlessly as he felt Tenna hardening again, excited by the fact that he had to hold the door shut.
“You’re such a freak, Tens.” Spamton bit the inside of his cheek as he wiggled his hips, Tenna falling over onto his elbow, stomach pressed against Spamtons back. “Come on, I know you want to.”
Another layer of hot steam filled the room, the substance bordering on smoke. It was even darker without Tennas screen on- that, plus the thick haze- made everything feel more intense. The stark shadows creeping under the door were blacker, Tennas' strained panting was louder, and the feeling of the stiffening cock inside of him was absolutely electric. Spamtons knees were raw, breaths hitched, but still, he couldn’t stop himself from craving more. He wanted Tenna to ram into him, to fuck him into the floor until he couldn’t stand. He wanted Tenna to sink those canines into the back of his neck, to make him bleed, to rough him up just enough to leave evidence of his crimes. Evidence that, whoever was standing right in front of the door, would be able to see. Evidence that would haunt them for weeks.
Without warning, Tenna rocked his hips, eliciting a moan from the both of them. His body was braced against the door, the wood creaking under his weight. It was certain that whoever was out there could hear them, but lust clouded Tennas judgement, and he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. Not when his mailman was being so generous.
“Hah, Tennaaa-” Spamton exhaled, babbling, “B- ah- bite me.”
“Sp- Spahmmy-” Tenna croaked as Spamton craned his neck to look up at him, pupils blown. “D- Don’ wanna- h- hurt you…”
“Fff- Fuck you-” The mailman snapped, blindly feeling around for the tie Tenna had neglected to take off. Once he had a firm grip, he yanked him down, Tenna yelping as his screen was brought only inches from Spamtons face. “Just mm- listen to me for o-once, yeah?”
Their lips connected, sloppy and desperate. Spamtons tongue invaded Tennas mouth, the feeling of static numbing his lips as he licked and nibbled, needy noises slipping out of both darkners. Tenna scratched his claws down the door as he broke away to trail kisses down Spamtons jaw, lightly nipping the delicate skin. He was always hesitant with his fangs; he knew they weren’t just for show, they were dangerous. Sharp. Predatory.
And Spamton wanted them.
With a growl, Tenna gave in to instinct, relishing in the way Spamton shivered under him as his teeth broke skin, a smatter of oily black staining the feathers on the back of his neck. The taste was far too inviting for what it was; a combination of ozone and intoxicating sweetness, something undeniably technological, yet still tangible. It melted on his tongue, warm like a shot of acid as it swam down his throat, addicting. Tenna was going to get addicted to this.
“Oh fuck cathode, just like that-” Spamton encouraged, eyes fluttering shut as he let himself sink into the mix of pain and pleasure.
Tenna was drunk off of Spamton. Not just the taste of him, but also the way he squirmed under him, making little noises- it was all so intoxicating. If he let his body have its way every time, there was no way either of them would be able to do anything but sleep, eat, and fuck. As much as the idea tempted him, Tenna knew that they both had lives, both had jobs to do. Right now though, that didn’t matter. The delicious creature squirming underneath him, making those pretty noises… that was what mattered. Tenna lapped at the wound marking Spamtons neck, blood and spit dripping to the floor amidst the heat. His hips moved on their own, drawing labored huff after huff out of the addison, both men lost in a dense cloud of pleasure. It wasn’t until whoever was at the door had the balls to knock that Spamton- just Spamton- snapped partways out of the spell they were under, hurriedly making an attempt to regain control of his thoughts.
“Fuck Tenna, you’ve really gotta-“ The addison hissed, trying desperately to get his attention, “-gotta quiet down.”
Tenna just kept moving, back arched over Spamton, his body at the point of no return. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, screen completely blissed out. Angel help them.
Another shuffle of the feet outside the door accompanied a small voice seeping through the wood. “Um, sorry, just making sure whoever is in here is, uh, okay, haha…” The pippin sounded meek, nervous. “I’m sure you’ve figured out that the door locks from out here by now, so if you need any help-“
Without thinking, Spamton blurted “We’re fine! Just, uh, you know!” He sounded like a dumbass, but, to be fair, he was getting fucked by a twelve foot tall CRT. Not much room left for thinking. “Angel almighty– g-gonna need a few more minutes to find, uh, the thing Mr. Tenna wanted!”
The pippins stiffened, the slivers of shadow straightening as the darkner outside realized that one of their bosses was in there. Spamton wished that this meddling asshole would just leave, but pippins weren’t exactly known to be considerate, even at the best of times.
“M… Mister Spamton?” The dice boy squeaked, almost inaudible.
“Fuckin- yes!” The addison chirped embarrassingly as Tenna pulled out completely before slamming himself back in, sending shockwaves through his smaller body. This bastard was trying to break his composure further, like it wasn’t lost already. He’d been gasping through sentences, the door rutting against its frame each time Tenna pushed his weight forward; they might as well be fucking on the green room couch at this point.
“I don’t mean to, uh, interrupt,” they carried on, pausing between words to consider the best course of action, “but I don’t think the boss would appreciate, erm, you, uh-”
“You think you know what Ant wants?” Spamton barked, feeling Tenna twitch inside him, close. “You have- f- fu- no fucking clue what he wants- hah!” Tenna lifted his free hand to caress Spamtons stomach, squeezing the bulge that formed around his cock every time he thrusted forward. Hot air from his vents lit the addisons skin on fire, the hand covering his torso wrapping him in pressure and heat, body going slack as he let Tenna hold him up, focusing his efforts on forming words. “Guaruntee you, wh-what he’d want right now is for you to-hah, fu-fuck off!”
Tenna grunted, animalistic, his claws poking holes in Spamtons shirt as he gripped tighter, pace growing erratic. “Spam- gonna, oh christ, I’m so-”
For the second time that day, Spamton felt Tenna tense up as he came, claws tearing the fabric still clinging to his body, thick cum spilling into his abused hole, his own cock still writhing against his stomach as he teetered at the precipice of his second orgasm. After a few more thrusts, he could feel the CRT losing steam, his dick softening inside him. He didn’t pull out though; Tenna stayed inside, unmoving, plugging Spamton up, keeping him full. Breathing heavily, Tenna slumped over, trailing a hand down to wrap around Spamtons desperate length, letting it wriggle in between his fingers as he pumped, squeezing the tentacle as it clambered for more.
“You close Spammy?” Tenna breathed, nipping at his ear, forgetting all about the unwanted company that stood a mere foot in front of them.
That was until the pippins, who obviously had a death wish, opened their damn mouth again.
“Look, I know it isn’t my place, but I really think-!”
Tennas claws wrapped around the edge of the door, yanking sharply inward, the mechanism that held it shut clinking as it broke off and hit the ground. Spamton could only watch as Tenna, still deep inside his cunt, stared directly at the cowering darkner and growled.
“You should learn when to take a hint.”
That’s what did it. Spamton convulsed around Tennas cock, riding out his second orgasm through slurred moans and laughter, feeling that extra set of eyes on him, watching him come undone in a puddle of his own debauchery. He was overly conscious of what he knew he looked like; what the pippins standing over him could see. Eyes rolled back into his skull, strands of hair hanging loose over his forehead, sweat running down his feathers, some of which were stained black. He could feel Tennas cum dripping out of his pussy, running down his thighs, his own cock soaked and twitching as Tenna milked him dry. They both still had their shirts on, Spamtons carelessly unbuttoned and torn, his tie askew around his throat, everything stained, ruined. Tenna had ruined him, and fuck was he proud.
He grinned up at the pippins, who stood still as a statue, somehow whiter in the face than usual. “Told ya.” Spamton snickered, making a show of slicking back his hair and wiggling his hips, Tenna whimpering from the overstimulation. “Now scram.” He deadpanned, watching as the pippins turned heel and ran out of the green room, stiff as a board. Spamton couldn’t help but laugh, falling limp as his body gave out beneath him, Tenna leaning back on his knees as he pulled out, processing what had just happened. What he’d just done.
Oh Angel, what had he done?!
“Spamton, did we, oh gosh, what have I-”
The addison rolled onto his back, craning his neck to stare up at Tenna, enjoying the cool air now flowing through the open door. “That was spectacular, big guy.” He sighed, watching as Tenna scrambled to hide himself from nobody, color bars gracing his screen. “Don’t know about you, but I think I really, really liked that.” Tennas mouth was pulled into a thin line, gaze fixed anywhere but on Spamton. The addison let his head flop back onto the carpet, limbs sprawled across the floor, completely relaxed. “You’re overthinking again, cathode.”
Tenna straightened, shrinking a bit as he reigned himself in, grabbing for his pants. He looked around once more, making sure nobody was in the green room before standing and pulling his slacks back up, zipping up the mess they’d made. It didn’t hide anything, but maybe in Tennas head it was better.
It wasn’t.
“Tens, come on, quit clammin’ up on me like that.” Spamton started, sitting up to rest on his elbows. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s probably not that bad, right?”
Tenna made a pitiful sound as he sank back down to his knees, pouting. “Everyone is gonna think we’re sleeping together, Spam. They’re gonna think I hired you because we’re sleeping together.” He paused, shoulders stiff. “I don’t want them to think you’re here just because I want your body.”
Spamton paused, sitting up a little straighter, reaching forward to hold Tennas head in his hands reassuringly. “Tenna, you don’t need to worry about that.” He let a soft smile rest on his face, thumb stroking the screen under it. “I can handle a little disrespect, especially if I have you to pick me back up at the end of the day.”
“But I don’t want them to disrespect you!” Tenna flashed his fangs before taking a breath, leaning into Spamtons touch to keep himself grounded. “I want my studio to be a safe place for you, somewhere you don’t have to just roll with the punches. You’ve been through enough, you don’t deserve to have to deal with more.”
“Tenna, I appreciate the concern, I really do,” the addison grinned, warm pride rushing through him, “but I don’t consider everyone knowing that I’m sleeping with you to be a bad thing. Every darkner here knows how hard I worked for this, how much I contribute to this studio. If, for even one second, anyone tries to tell me that I’m only here because of our relationship, I’d have no problems putting them on their ass.”
Tenna huffed out a laugh, rolling his nonexistent eyes. “Yeah, you would.”
“Damn right, and you know it.” Spamton beamed, poking Tennas chest. “So quit worryin’ about every little thing and just say you enjoyed it.”
Tenna looked at the floor, screen reddening as he struggled for words. “Yeah, I did. Embarrassingly so.”
“So, for next time-”
“Not on your life, Spamton.”