Archive of Our Own

The alarm went off at stupid-o’-clock in the morning, just like how Tenna always set it. He never needed much sleep anyways, just a moment to cool his head down from the day. 

He groaned. He’d had such a good dream, too. Sure, it started out… unideally, but he’d finally had you in his arms. He’d finally gotten to kiss you, to touch you, in a way that he’d never dreamt of before. In his half-asleep state, screen full of static, it was like you were still there with him. 

The alarm was still loud and annoying. He reluctantly lifted his arm away from you to press the snooze button before sinking back into your warmth. You smelled nice.

Wait a minute. Hold those horses.

Tenna’s screen flickered on as he pulled back just enough to see that you, indeed, were in bed with him. He could feel that you were naked. He could feel that he was naked. Dear lord.

He scrambled upright, pulling the sheets up to his chest as he flushed. His gaze trailed over you, your hair splayed out on the pillow, the soft slope of your shoulders, the rise and fall of your chest as you remained in deep sleep. Tenna couldn’t see the rest of you, hidden under the blankets, but his memory filled in the rest.

His dream… it really happened, didn’t it? The kissing, the… the sex. How you had ruined him, over and over, until his thoughts had become so fried that he couldn’t form words anymore. 

Tenna’s cock twitched between his legs, already half-hard. He dragged a hand over his screen, stopping at his mouth, letting go of the sheets. Those were ruined, too, stained with come and slick. White feathers spilled out of the comforter where his claws had torn through the fabric. 

“Oh, fuck,” Tenna said quietly to himself. You didn’t respond.

Ohhhh-kay. Okay. He was not going to spiral, nope. He was going to be a mature, grown television about this. What did people do, the morning after sex, when their partner the person they had made love to had fucked had sex with was still asleep?

Slowly, slowly, Tenna eased himself out of bed, wincing at the soreness that pulsed through his lower body. The mattress creaked as it recovered from his weight. He then looked around, noting the mess of the room. Both of your clothes were strewn about the room, tangled together and likely unsalvageable. He picked them up anyways, intending to see if he could wash them. 

The panel to his chest, too, was on the ground. He picked it up and fit it back in place, determinedly not thinking about the way you had stroked his wires, making him lightheaded and trembling, gasping for air that he didn’t need.

His shirt was missing two buttons, he noted absentmindedly. If you stuck around, you could probably repair it. Goodness knows his own hands were much too large and clunky. His pants, on the other hand, were probably ruined forever. 

Whatever. Whatever. It didn’t matter. The laundry department could probably take care of everything, but he wasn’t too keen on letting them know that he had gotten down and dirty with someone. Rumors would float about if they found out, and stars forbid the rumors be tracked down to you. You’d probably hate him more than you would when you woke up. He’d never be able to beg for your forgiveness then.

He’d just put the clothes—minus the pants, which he’d throw away—into his personal wash. Usually he only used it for his personal clothes, like underwear, pajamas, or his casual wear that usually sat untouched in the back of his closet. You wouldn’t mind if he put your clothes in there too, right? It wouldn’t matter if your clothes smelled like his laundry detergent, right?

Tenna suddenly realized that he had been standing there naked, in the middle of his room, staring at your shirt in his hand and agonizing about laundry detergent. He flushed, hurriedly tossing everything into the hamper in the corner of his room and dragging it to the washer. He dumped everything in, adding his detergent before pressing start. 

There, one crisis averted. Now, for the next problem: his clothes. 

No, not the ones he had just put in the laundry. Putting on some clothes, for the workday. From the closet in his bedroom. The bedroom where you were sleeping. 

Tenna crept back to the doorway, where he had left it open. You must have really been exhausted, from the way you were still sleeping throughout all the racket he was making. Or maybe he was quieter than he thought. Either way, he didn’t think he wanted to find out at this moment.

The closet door was creaky, and since the noise never really bothered Tenna, he never saw the need to get the hinges oiled. But now you were here, sleeping in his bed, and Tenna cursed himself for not thinking it was necessary. Holding his breath, he yanked the door open as quickly as he could, and the door rewarded him with not creaking. He quickly grabbed the first set he saw—a copy of his usual outfit that he wore on-air, of which he had many—and slipped into the bathroom to put it on. 

In the bathroom, he grabbed a packet of wet wipes to clean himself off. Although he technically had a shower, electronics and water didn’t mix very well. During the rare times he would get wet, he’d have to spend most of the night awake, dipping cotton swabs into ports to soak the water up. 

Tenna wiped his body down. He was trying very hard not to think about how your hands had trailed over him right there, how your lips had touched his neck, how you had ground on his thigh until you had finished. 

He was doing a very bad job, as evidenced by his very hard dick. 

Last night, his special ability of not having a refractory period had been very helpful—useful, even. You had got off on him so many times, pushed him to the limits of his machinery. Even now, he was still so sensitive from you, from your hands, your mouth, your body.

Thinking about last night was not helping his little… situation. 

Think unsexy thoughts, Tenna desperately told himself. Think about that one time you spilled coffee all over yourself on air. Think about how many breakdowns Mike had to console you from. Think about the mailman who left, right when you thought you had something.

Maybe it was a little depressing, but that seemed to do the trick.

After throwing away the wipes, Tenna put his clothes on, taking a moment to adjust himself in the mirror. Perhaps it was a bit silly to put his clothes on first before he brushed his teeth, but in the miniscule chance that you had woken up just then and went into the bathroom, he felt that it would probably be better if he had something on. Probably because if he saw you completely naked again, you’d see that he’d be chubbed up more than what was socially acceptable.

His hands smoothed out a crease in his pants. He frowned, recalling how just yesterday, just last night, you had made him ruin a copy of these exact slacks. You had teased him until he quite literally couldn’t stand, and then you had made him come in his pants. 

Would you look at that, he was hard again.

He turned away from the mirror. Time to brush his teeth, an activity that was totally non-arousing and would not remind him of you whatsoever. And to polish his screen, the television equivalent of shaving. 

You were still sleeping, when he came out of the bedroom. In his absence, you had pulled the sheets up to your nose, hair plastered onto your face. A feather from the comforter moved with every breath you took. Before he realized what he was doing, he had already knelt down next to the bed and brushed the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. Your head tilted towards him a little as you unconsciously chased the warmth of his hand.

When Tenna withdrew, he found that his artificial heart was beating quickly. He could hear the electricity running through the wires in his ears. His fingertips tingled where he had touched you. 

He hesitated to leave you. You looked so small in his bed, so tired. Surely, after last night, it was okay to just… enjoy your presence, for a bit? After all, he always got up so early. There wouldn’t be anyone in the studio yet, other than the overnight security guards. 

Tenna knelt there for a long time, just watching you. Making sure you were safe. His head rested on the edge of the mattress, a few inches shy of your hand, trying to sate the ache of wanting to be with you. 

You’d probably never want to see him again. That was okay, Tenna could be okay with that. He wanted to wrap you up in his blankets and keep you in his home forever. He wanted to come back to the penthouse after work and see you taking a nap. He wanted things that he shouldn’t be thinking about. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted.

He should probably get you something to wear, so that when you woke up, you didn’t have to remain exposed. 

He got up to his feet slowly, reluctantly. Tenna went over to the closet, the door of which had been left ajar, searching for something that would fit you. He found an old T-shirt that once had been branded with his logo, now faded from so many washes, and a pair of pajama pants with an elastic waist. Even if they were large on you, at least they wouldn’t fall off. 

He left them folded on the nightstand closest to you, taking one last, long look at your peaceful face. The next time he saw it, it might be twisted with anger at what he had done to you. Or maybe he would never see it again, if you took off before he came back.

He turned around and closed the bedroom door, making his way to the elevator-slash-front door. He forewent breakfast, instead snatching a banana from the small fruit bowl on the table, finishing it in two bites.

He grabbed his tie from the stand, knotting it around his neck, pinning it in place with a tie bar. Next came his coat, carefully taken off the hanger and shrugged on, fitting against his body perfectly. Then his shoes, one of which was on its side. Thank goodness that he’d taken them off, even in the half-delirious state you’d put him in, yesterday. Your own shoes had also taken a tumble, so he put them neatly against the wall.

There. Everything was accounted for. He stepped into the elevator, pressing the down button and fiddling with his tie. The elevator music, usually much appreciated, sounded grating compared to the lovely noises that came out of your mouth last night. He would much rather listen to that. 

Tenna looked up to the roof of the elevator cab and willed his erection to go away.

By the time the elevator reached the offices, Tenna already knew that the day was going to be one of those days where he was extremely out of it.

There were some employees trickling in, the workday starting. They stepped out of his way as he walked towards the office. He didn’t bother to speak to any of them—the one person who he wanted to speak with wasn’t there. 

When he got to his office, he shut the door with more force than he had intended. Tenna exhaled. Great. Now everyone knew that he wasn’t having a good day. They could probably tell from his height either way, but he really hadn’t wanted anything to bother him today, aside from the obvious.

As he sank into his creaky chair, Tenna let out a breath. His hands wandered down to his legs as he picked up some documents, massaging his sore thighs. He signed and read through paperwork, taking notes of terms and conditions, orders placed for new officeware, worker efficiency, repairs, requests for raises…

He soon found that he couldn’t focus. Not that this was the most enjoyable part of his day in the first place, but his mind kept wandering back to you. The dent in the hundreds of documents was far less sizable than normal. His back hurt.

He came across a request for leave. He signed it without looking too much, distracted by the thought of you in his bed. Right, you were his worker too. He should probably organize something for you, considering what he had done to you yesterday. You deserved that much. 

Tenna took a notepad, writing out his orders to give you PTO. He stared at it for a moment, reading over your name, written by his hand. Even your name looked good. A blush erupted across his face. He was so down bad for you, wasn’t he?

He hurriedly added another line, shaky and scrawling. Not taking any PTO days from your amount was probably definitely against the rules, but also he was the boss, so who was going to tell on him? Surely it was okay if he could dote on you a little bit, make up for what he had done. 

He stood up and stepped out of his office. Immediately, the bustling outside stopped, Shadowguys and Pippins freezing at his sudden appearance. Usually they weren’t so jumpy. Could they tell that he wasn’t having the best day? Tenna pointed at the nearest one.

“You,” he said, holding out the folded-up note. “Give this to Mike.”

The Shadowguy inched forward slowly before swiping the note from his hand. He took off, and Tenna watched him leave. Once he had turned the corner, he noticed that the other employees were still frozen in place. He plastered a smile on his face, looking at them all.

“Well? The day’s just started! Don’t tell me you all are already tired!”

The hallway immediately jumped back into the hustle and bustle of hundreds of workers rushing to their places. You wouldn’t have been among them, but Tenna briefly imagined you were, shooting him a smile before you went off.

He shut the door behind him with a click! and made his way to the stage to begin filming.

The morning passed in a blur—Tenna wasn’t all there, going through the motions of showmanship that had come to be expected from him. There was a smile on his face, his movements fluid and exaggerated. But as the curtains closed for lunchtime, Tenna found himself stumbling back to his office for a bit of alone time.

He could very well go get himself some lunch, but he was more than a bit distracted at that point. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to go upstairs to find you. Instead, he pulled out yet another pile of paperwork, hoping that he could lose himself in it. 

Eventually, after only a few sheets, Tenna couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned back in his chair, twiring a pen around his fingers. It was so dreadfully boring, knowing that after the day had ended, he couldn’t go to your room under the guise of needing to be there for a fitting. His mind wandering back to you in his bed. Had you gotten up yet? Did you remember what happened last night?

Did you remember touching him until he couldn’t stand? Did you remember your hands, confident and bold, manhandling him into the positions you wanted? 

He had thought before that the only touches he could ever get from you were the ones of a professional tailor, pinning fabric to his waist, unaware of the shivers you sent up his spine. Last night, however, you had wrapped a hand around his dick, tip still sensitive from his last orgasm, and stroked him once, twice. Although it had been with an amateur hand, Tenna had practically blown a fuse. By the third stroke, he had come, thighs shaking, back arched, head tipped back, back, back. 

There had been so many times Tenna had been half-convinced he was going to pass away: watching himself slide into you, half-delirious with pleasure; taking you from behind as you lost control of your arms, falling into the pillows with a moan; the feeling of your climax, rooted deep in your body, pulsing around his cock.

Then, after all that, you had taken him into your mouth, and Tenna had been completely convinced that he had died and gone to heaven. He had been drooling, unable to do anything about his reactions other than to react, little ah ah ahs falling out of his mouth with every stroke of your tongue, oversensitivity making it nearly unbearable.

And oh, did you make it worthwhile. The initial feeling was hot and wet, but then you had swirled your tongue around his tip filthily, looking up at him through your lashes. The sight alone had nearly been enough to push him into coming. Instead, he had blacked out for a second—that said, a second was a completely arbitrary method of measurement. For all Tenna knew it could have been hours—and when he came to, he could feel his tip hitting the back of your throat.

He had said your name, voice completely wrecked, feedback making it nearly unintelligible. You pulled back, your tongue tracing the underside of his dick up, up, up, catching on the ridge where the tip met his shaft. Tenna did lose it, then, unable to do anything about his orgasm but to lay there and take it, trembling, pleasure spreading through his body from his groin to the tips of his fingers. 

And even then you hadn’t been finished. After you pulled off of him with a soft pop! you straddled him again, grinding against him, smearing your slick up and down his thigh. You hadn’t been satisfied, even though you had come before from doing the exact same thing. He could see it on your face. So, with shaking arms, he tugged you up to perch on his face, tongue dipping into you. 

You didn’t just sit there on his face, although he would have been perfectly happy with that. Delighted, actually. He’d dreamed of it before, and he had woken up with a throbbing hard-on that had to be solved immediately. All it took was one desperate, half-assed stroke, and he had come so hard that he had splattered onto the underside of his head, painting his chest with thin stripes of static, leaving him breathless and panting. 

But you didn’t merely sit there, like in his dream, letting him lap at your pussy until he had gotten his fill of you, no. You rode his face, rutting into him, treating him like how you would a toy. Your legs squeezed his head. He could feel your muscles fluttering around him. The view had been heavenly, staring up at you as you used his face like the filthiest throne to ever exist.

You had looked down at him, then, eyes glazed over, hair sticking to your forehead. Your hand had reached down, down, down, to his face, and brushed against the dial situated there, as if distantly recalling the phrase he used so often.

He had thought, earlier that day, after the first few times he’d finished, that it would be the best he could ever feel. That he’d be thinking about that moment for days, weeks, months. 

That had been so, so foolish.

He had moaned into you, unable to control himself. A smirk crept across your face, even as preoccupied as you had been, and teased him with fluttering touches across his dial, across his buttons, forcing his climax to build until he thought he’d burst into flames right then and there. 

Then, when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, you would stop. It’d be just long enough for him not to know whether he was grateful for the pause or whether he wanted your hands back. In the end, it didn't even matter, because your hands would be on him again before he could make a decision. 

And then you’d stop again, right when he was so close he could taste it, teetering on the ledge. He’d sobbed into your cunt, begging you for just a bit more, please, just that teensy bit more. Please touch him, he wanted it so bad, please, sweetheart.

And then, finally, finally, after he’d begged you, drooling, to give him that little push over the edge, words glitching and jumping into each other, you gave him what he wanted. You twisted the dial deftly, fingers pressing into the thin layer of silicone, your other hand gripping the edge of his frame.

His moans increased in noise, distorted with feedback. His face blinked in and out of existence, ability to see flickering like you were rapidly switching between channels. He was glitching, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, of your hips, sure to leave bruises. His hips bucked into nothing, once, twice, and then he had come untouched for the second time that day.

You had come against him, too, legs clenching around his head and making him see stars in the flashes of darkness, moaning with delight. You had tasted wonderful, spilling into his mouth. He’d never tasted anything so good. He wanted to have a piece of you every night, so beautiful in his bed.

Stars, he was so hard. His dick was digging into the seam of his pants, steadily leaking, nearly painful with want. His hips were twitching with half-aborted thrusts. There was already a small wet patch on the front—hopefully nobody would see, if he could calm himself down fast enough. 

Tenna tried, he really did, but he couldn’t think of anything except you in his bed, you pressed up against him, you, you, you. His thoughts were totally and utterly consumed by you.

He slammed his head into his desk, letting out a pitiful little moan. There was no way he could do any work like this. There was no way he could go back on air like this, after his lunch break was over. Everyone already knew that he wasn’t in the mood, today—if they found out why, Tenna might have to jump off a cliff.

He inhaled, finally deciding to to what he had wanted to do all day. “MIKE!” he shouted.

Less than a minute later, there was a sharp rat-tat-tat on his door, opening with a creak. Mike—the short one, with a comb-over—popped his head in. “Yes, boss? Something the matter?”

Tenna pointed the pen at him, face still buried in his desk. “Put on some re-runs today. I’m taking the rest of the day off. Maybe run that one special from a few years ago, where we made that one cake with strawberry frosting.”

Mike seemed speechless for a second. “I– okay, sure. Whatever you say, boss.”

“Yes, yes, thank you, Mike.”

When he didn’t hear Mike’s footsteps walking away, he lifted his head to look at him. “What?”

“W-well,” Mike said, fidgeting. “Is everything all right, boss?”

Tenna fought back the urge to yell. That wouldn’t do, this was Mike. He was also supposed to be working on controlling his emotions, a task he had set himself to in order to make sure you never saw him like this. He attempted a smile. He was pretty sure it looked more like a grimace. “Absolutely!”

“O-kay. Got it.” With that, Mike left and shut the door. 

Tenna stared at it for a bit longer. He was being such an ass, wasn’t he? It wasn’t that he was mad, or even that he was annoyed, because he wasn’t—he just wanted you so desperately. It was more than a little pathetic of him, he supposed, but it wasn’t like there was anyone who could read his mind. 

“Thanks, Mike,” he said to the empty air. Mike didn’t respond. 

Sighing, he stood up from his desk. No time like the present to go upstairs and face his inevitable fate. Thankfully his erection had mostly softened during the short conversation he had with Mike. It shouldn’t be noticeable—especially since everyone should be on their company-mandated lunch break.

When he peeked out into the hallway, it was mostly empty. He quickly made his way to the elevator. Using his key, he stepped in, frantically pressing the ‘Door Close’ button when he heard someone approaching. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, but it felt… embarrassing, for some reason. 

Presumably, it was because he was in the trenches. Presumably, he craved your presence so badly that he couldn’t even focus. Presumably, of course. 

The doors opened with a soft ding! He slowly stepped into his apartment, looking upwards as he toed off his shoes. It was stupid, really, that he didn’t want to even think of the idea that you had possibly left him. If he looked down, then he couldn’t pretend that you were right behind his bedroom door, still sleeping.

He shrugged off his tailcoat, hooking it onto the suit hanger he kept by the door, trying to distract himself from how much he wanted to check if you were still there. 

Tenna ended up making his way over to the bedroom door anyways. He couldn’t hear anything. He laced his hands in front of him, as if to stop himself from reaching out and opening the door. 

He really shouldn’t. He should wait until you either came out or until the day was over and it was evident you weren’t there. He should sit at the kitchen table and stop acting like a scorned lover hesitant to come home. 

By the Fountain, he was so stupid. 

His right hand—still gloved, shaking with anticipation—turned the doorknob slowly. Gathering his wits, he pushed the door in, just enough to peer in.

And you were there, still in bed, hair still surrounding your head like a little halo. Tenna might not need to breathe, but it was as if all the air had exited his nonexistent lungs. You had shifted slightly, curled up in the divot Tenna had created from his habit of sleeping on one side of the bed. He couldn’t see your face—you were facing away from him—but he knew that it was lax with unconsciousness. 

He wanted nothing more than to shed his clothes and crawl back into bed with you, wanted to curl around you. But, Tenna told himself, that would be creepy. It was already bad enough that his nose exploded sex pollen right into your face, even if he hadn’t known that it was sex pollen. He should have been more careful.

The room still smelled like sex. Maybe he could just… help you a little. Air out the room, make it a little more presentable. 

Tenna crept into the room, pushing aside the curtains. The air outside was always quite cold, as the TV Studio had been built on top of a snowy wasteland. It wouldn’t do to have you wake up to a chilly room, so after a moment’s thought, he left it only cracked open. 

The sun reflected off the snow nicely, Tenna thought as he looked down. It cast a pale glow onto everything. It might seem strange to have sun in a Dark World, but Tenna was never one to question the abnormalities of things. The studio and its inner works might be something that Tenna knew much about, but there were some things that went over his head entirely. 

Maybe the sun was Lanino’s doing. That would make sense. Tenna actually had no idea whether he and Elnina only predicted the weather, or if they had something to do with the modification of it. 

When he turned around, his heart skipped a beat. If he had thought that you looked beautiful before, then it was nothing compared to how you looked now. 

The natural light really did bring out your features, Tenna thought in a daze. Your hair seemed as if it was shining as it reflected the light. You seemed unworldly, and he could hardly believe that this was the same person he had dared to touch yesterday, that you had allowed him to touch you.

His hand ghosted over yours before he snapped back to reality. What was he doing? When had he gotten so close?

Flustered, he sped-walked out the door and shut it with a definitive click! behind him. 

“Stupid, stupid!” he muttered to himself, banging the side of his head. Ow, that hurt. “What are you doing? What are you thinking?”

As he paced around, he caught sight of a bouquet on the table, made of pink-and-yellow flowers. Tenna rushed over and slam-dunked the poor flowers into the trash. Usually, he’d save these flowers—they made a nice bouquet. Now that he knew what they could do, though? Absolutely not. 

He gritted his teeth, pulling at his antennae, staring at the bouquet in the trash. Grains of pollen floated upwards. He’d have to take the trash out. He couldn’t risk doing something again to you, not when you were compromised. 

Ouch! Tenna let go of his antennae with a hiss, sparks flying out the tips. He rubbed at the top of his dolefully, having pulled a bit too hard. He should know better than to do that to a sensitive part of his biology, really.

He ended up rifling through his fridge desperately. Maybe a cup of nectar would do him some good. A nice, cold drink to cool him down. After a look, though, it was evident that Tenna had none. He only had Battery Acid (ew) and fridge water. Neither were very appealing.

Stars, he needed a cigarette. His hands twitched, as if already reaching for some invisible lighter. But it was another bad habit he had been trying to kick for a time now. 

Nevertheless, Tenna could feel his willpower crumbling. 

He didn’t even need to think. The cigarettes were in his bedside drawer, buried underneath a secret compartment. It had been weeks, months, even, but if he didn’t get one in his mouth in the next minute he was going to blow a fuse.

He was by the door now. You were in there, he remembered, but there was no way you’d woken up in the few minutes during which he’d checked on you and now, right? That would be just his luck. 

 Without a second thought he opened the door and stepped in and—

He met your wide, awakened eyes.

He made a noise. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, he was trying to say, words coming out of his speakers on instinct. His mouth was suddenly drier than one of those deserts from the cowboy show. The hope that had been dwindling in his chest suddenly dissipated under your stare. The fun-o-meter had gone into the negatives. He’d fucked up horribly, hadn’t he?

Good heavens, you’re not even wearing any clothes. He hadn’t given you the time to put on clothes. Feedback screeched as he yelped, face erupting with a blush. “Right! I’ll just, uh…” 

He needed to go now. You hated him, he knew it, he couldn’t face you like this. Maybe he’ll go and waterboard himself. It’s not like anyone would miss him, with the attitude he’d been having. He hated it, he wanted to be liked, he wanted to be loved, but he just couldn’t control himself sometimes, just like how he couldn’t control himself here by coming up and intruding on you and—

“Wait!”

He froze obediently. What are you doing? No one should want him around, especially not you. Especially not at this moment. 

Then, with all your grace and mercy, you’d patted the bed, told him to come to you. He felt so ashamed. Surely he’d shrunk a bit. Maybe more than a bit. He shuffled over and sat as close as he dared to you.

And then you’d pulled him onto the bed, even closer than you should want him. And Tenna—

Well, it was everything he’d ever wanted.

The sun’s rays were no longer peeking into the room, having set quite a bit from earlier. You, however, were still cuddled up to him, practically draped across him. It was an incredibly intimate position that Tenna didn’t dare to move from, even though his arm was protesting.

With everything he’s ever dreamed of for the past few months in his arms, having told him that yes, you wanted this, you wanted him, Tenna finally has a moment to reflect.

It’s strange, really, how meeting you has brought out the best in him. Tenna’s aware that not everyone likes him—it’s only natural that a star can outshine others—but when you appeared, bursting into his life like you’d been there all along, he wanted to be good for you. 

He wanted you to think of him as a good boss, to only hear good things about him, to never have to deal with his bad habits. He wanted to be the kind of person that you could love. He felt slightly manipulative, like the show he’d been putting on wasn’t real. And it was real, Tenna’s been trying to make it real, trying to be better—but is it? Is it really, when all you’ve known is this good side of Tenna? The Tenna who doesn’t smoke, who doesn’t yell?

But here’s the thing, the overarching problem that perfectly encapsulates it all: Tenna’s selfish. He really is. He wanted your attention on him, to look at him, to never fade. He wanted to take everything in the world and give it to you, he wanted to give himself to you. And what if you got swallowed up by his greed?

And here’s something else: Tenna’s been told that he’s a little intense. It wasn't like he'd had a… a lover before you, but he knew that it was true. He’s intense when it comes to his show and people that he cares about; you most definitely fall into the second category. He’s worried that he’d keep grasping and wanting for more, and then eventually you’d turn away, just like everyone else. 

He doesn’t know what he’d do if you left too.

At that moment, as if you could reach his thoughts, you nuzzled into him. Tenna bowed his head slightly to press a kiss to the top of your head, gently assuring you that everything was alright.

It was nice, being able to spend time with you. Being around you. He’d never had to slow down before. Guest stars, speakers, the witty charm that kept TV TIME going—everything had to be fast, paced, calculated, otherwise people would tune out. 

Your craft, however, was meticulously slow. Tenna didn’t understand much about all the different kinds of thread and stitches and whatever “dye lots” were. He didn’t know what the difference between a flat-felled seam versus an overlock was, although he’d seen you scoff at the quality of mass-made clothes. 

He did know what looked good, though. He knew that the tiny stitches you made by hand, nearly invisible, was something that he couldn’t find elsewhere. The drape of the clothes, the way it sat just right on his shoulders. The little buttons and hidden pockets. That was only something you could do.

When Tenna was just starting out, he didn’t think he’d need a personal seamstress. He’d just go out and buy whatever fit fine. And for a time, that worked. But then he grew big, he needed to care about the finer details, and he went through darkner after darkner to find someone who knew what they were doing.

None of them could keep up, though. The last one had lasted a few years, but even they had left eventually. And then you came, and you forced him to sit down, and you let your mouth run ahead of itself. And you had said, you want quality? Then you need to wait, and Tenna had found himself falling for you.

Tenna could wait. He’ll learn how to, for you. He’s already waited a long time today. You’d woken up several times in the afternoon, drifting in and out of consciousness. Once, you’d even smiled sleepily up at him, telling him that you were so glad he was there. Then you’d kissed him on the lips and fell back asleep.

You were such a tease, sometimes. You probably didn’t even know it. Even yesterday, before everything had happened, you had just… grabbed his waist and forced him to turn around, to move in ways that suited you. He’d had to force himself not to show the shiver that had ran down his spine, then. 

“Thinking about something?” Your bleary voice cut through the silence. He hadn’t even noticed you had awoken.

“Ah, I…” Don’t say anything incriminating, Tenna thought. “N-nothing.”

“Nothing?” you teased. “That’s what’s got your thinking face on?”

“Huh?”

You reached up to his forehead, pressing a thumb into the wrinkle between his nonexistent eyebrows. The blankets slid down, revealing the soft skin of your shoulder. Tenna had to avert his gaze to stop himself from thinking of salacious thoughts.

“Hmm?” You sounded much more awake now, leaning in, getting closer. He felt his face heating up, erupting in a blush. “Doesn’t seem like ‘nothing.’”

“I, I-” Tenna tugged at his collar, still fastened up all the way to the top. 

He jerked when he felt your hand touching his, undoing the top button. You smiled up at him. “Hmm?”

“W-woah mama! Goodness, I, you– can’t you see what you’re doing to me?”

“Oh, so it’s me you’re thinking about?”

Your hand had crawled up to cup the side of his neck, fingers brushing over exposed wires. Tenna whimpered before he could stop himself. 

“You sound so good,” you cooed, reducing Tenna to a gasping mess. 

It was pathetic how easy Tenna was for you, even after everything that had happened yesterday. As your hand retreated, Tenna followed, chasing your warmth. It returned less than a second later, this time resting on his face. 

His hands landed on the curve of your waist. You were still completely naked underneath the blankets, and when Tenna remembered that, a bolt of hot, gooey arousal settled in his crotch.

“Yes,” Tenna managed, finally. “Was thinking ‘bout you.”

“About last night?”

Tenna hadn’t been thinking about that, exactly, but it was hard not to now that you had mentioned it. He suddenly realized that your hands had been wandering downwards, tugging at his shirt, unclasping his belt.

But you were still tired from last night, weren’t you? If Tenna was sore (and he was made of metal, for goodness’ sake), then surely you were worse off.

“W-wait, wait a moment.” The words came out a bit garbled. “I– I thought you were… from, from yesterday? You still… want to do this?”

“Yes, of course I do.” You frowned. “I… I thought… unless you don’t want to?”

You had retreated slightly. Tenna reached out and dragged you back to him, closer, closer. “No, no. Don’t go. I, I do want this. Please.”

Your hands traced over his dial, and Tenna whined, hips bucking into you. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m sorry. It’s just, when I woke up, you… I could feel that you were hard. I was just worried I misinterpreted that.”

That was embarrassing. Tenna hadn’t even realized he had been hard then. He turned his head away so that you wouldn’t have to see the mortification on his face. 

You grabbed the edge of his frame, forcing him to face you. “Hey, none of that. If you want this, then I want this too.”

Tenna whimpered. “Please.”

 You kissed him. Your lips were warm and soft, and Tenna had no qualms about kissing you back, slipping his tongue into your mouth. His hand came up to cradle your head, stroking your hair, pulling it back slightly so that his view of your face was unobstructed.

You were still warm from sleep, heat rising off your body. Your hands nudged at his sides, making him move until he was positioned between your legs, blanket shoved to the side. 

“What do you want?” Tenna asked as he pulled back. “Do you want to be on top? You seemed to like it.”

You smiled at him, panting. He was tenting his pants. “I think you, this time. I don’t think I can move that much.”

Tenna nodded, palming himself. “Y-yes, yeah. I can do that.”

“But you’re going to have to open me first. I mean, you’re more than decently large, Tenna.”

He gaped at you slightly, face turning pink at the thought. His cock twitched under his hand. “O-okay.”

You opened your legs a bit more. He could see the wetness between your legs, glistening under the light of his screen. Tenna suddenly felt incredibly overdressed, still in his work outfit, if a bit rumpled. He hadn’t even taken off his tie!

He rushed to take his clothes off, fiddling with all the buttons, determined not to make more work for you when you got back. Eventually, he settled back between your legs, completely naked. You pulled him in for one more kiss, both of you gasping as the tip of his cock brushed against your clit.

He massaged at your entrance for a bit, lightly coating his fingers in your slick. When your mouth opened to demand more, he sat back and slowly sunk one large finger into you.

“Haah,” you moaned, caught off guard. “Oh, Tenna, that feels so good.”

Tenna watched as his finger pumped in and out of you, mesmerized by the feel of you. Soon enough, he inserted a second finger in, causing you to tip your head back in pleasure. 

“Tenna,” you groaned. 

He was hard against his thigh, dick twitching and leaking. He wrapped his other hand around himself, squeezing, desperate to get some relief as he watched you. His fingers scissored you open, before quirking up and brushing against that one spot that made you see stars. 

You arched your back, moaning. He could see that you were getting close, legs starting to shake, muscles tensing. 

“You look so good,” Tenna whispered. He felt so hot, flustered and wound up just from watching you. 

“Yeah?” You looked at him. Sweat was starting to bead up on your forehead. “You feel, mmf, feel so good.”

Tenna pressed upwards with his fingers, curling them so that he could grind his palm into your clit. Your head fell back, moaning incessantly.

The angle was a bit awkward for him, but Tenna soldiered on, since it was obvious that it felt incredible to you. Your breathing, already labored, began to stutter. 

“I’m close,” you gasped, shaking. “Oh, fuck.”

Your hips rutted into his palm, jerking upwards, covering it in wetness. A shudder ran down Tenna’s spine as his cock blurted out precome. 

At last, you came, muscles fluttering around his fingers, making you gasp and moan. Your legs snapped together, and Tenna continued to finger you throughout it all until you fumbled for his hand and stopped him from moving.

It took a few moments before you had recovered enough to look down at him, a dazed look on your face. Tenna slowly ran his hand up and down his length, breaths shaky. 

“Okay,” you breathed. “Come on. Get inside of me.”

Tenna groaned. “You– you can’t just say things like that.” His cock kicked against his thigh. He obeyed you anyways, boxing you in with his massive frame.

He angled himself against you before pushing in slightly. Already it felt incredible, already it felt so good. He pushed in slowly, holding himself back from fucking in all in one smooth motion like he wanted to. 

“I– wait, wait, wait,” you gasped. Tenna froze immediately.

“Wh-what is it? What’s wrong?” Oh Fountain, had he done something to hurt you? 

Your face was screwed up slightly. “I– I don’t think you’re gonna fit. It hurts, a bit.”

“Did… did I do something wrong? During the prep?”

“No, no, you were perfect,” you assured Tenna. “It’s just… you’re so big. I think we need lube.”

Tenna looked at you, mouth parted lightly. His face flushed an even deeper pink, casting a glow onto your face. 

“Oh.”

You smiled at him a bit awkwardly. “Yeah. Do you have any?”

Tenna sat back on his feet, pulling what little he had managed to fit in out. “I, I… well, um, no.”

“No?”

“Well, I– I don’t really… I don’t have sex, often. At all.”

As soon as the words left his speakers, Tenna regretted talking. It wasn’t very sexy of someone to admit that, at his age, they hadn’t had sex before. 

“Oh,” you breathed. “So then, was I…?”

He could feel himself starting to shrink. “Mhm.”

“Oh stars, that’s so hot.”

Shocked, Tenna looked back up at you. He could hardly believe his receivers. 

“You just let me do all that to you, and it was your first time?” You continued. “I figured you had to be with someone before, considering how big you were, how good you are. By the Fountain, my goodness, Tenna. Tenna.”

He had grown to full height under your praise. He bit his lip to prevent himself from doing something foolish, like drooling at your words. 

You looked up at him. “Come here,” you said.

He crawled over you again. Before he could ask you what you were thinking, you popped open his chest panel.

“Oh!” Tenna gasped.

As you began stroking up and down the wires, Tenna could feel himself crumbling. His arms visibly shook as you reached down to the base of one wire and tugged gently. 

“Hnngh, b-be, careful,” he panted. You had barely even started and already he was so gone. He probably would have felt more embarrassed if you hadn’t gotten a good idea of his capabilities last night. “Some, aah, some of those are, don’t pull any– mmf!”

He cut himself off as you wrapped your other hand around his leaking dick. Your hand couldn’t make it all the way around, but it still felt so much better than anything Tenna could do himself. 

His arms were about to give out. He couldn’t even recognize the noises that came out of his speakers, some combination of moans and sobs. He rutted into your hand desperately. Using one of your knees, you nudged his legs a bit wider. The reddish glow of his screen provided a very romantic, steamy atmosphere, his precome refracting the light slightly. 

“So,” you said, almost conversationally. Only your labored breath indicated how much of an effect he was having on you. “Are there any plugs safe to pull?”

Tenna whimpered affirmatively. His hips bucked twice before he could answer you. “Y-yellow,” he panted. 

You peered into his chest cavity. “Looks like you’ve got several yellow ones in there.”

Tenna couldn’t answer you. 

“Well, I’ll just…” You wrapped your hand around one, squeezing it lightly. “This one?”

Tenna shook his head frantically. 

“What about this one?” You had wrapped your hand around a three-prong plug. Tenna shook his head at that one, too.

“Then, is it this one?” 

It was. Tenna didn’t say or do anything, but that was enough of an answer for you. In one fluid motion, you pulled the plug. 

He wanted to set himself on fire. His face was a great starting point, considering how hot it felt already. 

The hand you had on his dick slowed, squeezing lightly to get Tenna to stop moving so much. He obeyed with a whine, looking down at you. The static on his screen cleared slightly, an indication that his release had been starting to creep up on him before you made him stop.

You looked up at him through your lashes. When you lifted the plug up to your mouth, Tenna inhaled sharply, the cool air whizzing through his head.

Your tongue darted out to lick one prong of the plug, and Tenna couldn’t contain a moan. “Fuck,” he groaned, shoulders trembling. 

You slowly started to take the plug into your mouth. It wasn’t very large—much smaller than the cock you had practically stuffed into your mouth last night—so he knew you were doing it just to fuck with him. Steam wooshed out of his vents as you drew all sorts of noises out of his mouth.

“Feels good?” you asked around the plug in your mouth. 

If it had been anybody else in any other situation, Tenna would have told them it was a stupid question. You had one of his plugs, in your mouth, your wet, hot, perfect mouth that could do apparently magical things to him. Of-fucking-course it felt good, it felt downright heavenly.

Tenna, however, did not have the power to tell you how good it felt anymore. Instead, his arms finally gave out, falling face-first next to your head. He moaned into the pillow.

You hummed around the plug, your hand on his dick resuming its former speed. His back curved at the feeling, claws digging into the mattress with a rip.

Was he drooling? He might be drooling. Tenna’s sense of being was so shot that he couldn’t even tell anymore. 

“Feels good, huh?” You said. Your breath faltered as Tenna began to mouth at your neck, teeth scraping your skin. In retaliation, you swiped your thumb over his tip, pressing lightly, sending a jolt of arousal through him.

“F-fuck!” Tenna said, voice crackling and slurring together. One of his hands found its way up to clutch at his head. “O–oh, hnng, I’m gonna, gonna—”

“Getting close?” Your voice, sultry and smooth, sent him hurtling faster and faster towards the edge.

“Yes! Aah–”

“Good boy.”

Tenna was coming, he was already coming, thick stripes of static painting your torso with each pulse of his cock, the nickname having such a profound effect. White noise was the only thing displaying on his screen, nose disappearing. If he could see, he would see the look on your face, slightly shocked at how hard he came at your words, before you filed it away for later use.

He came to slowly, black pixels fizzing away until only white was left, before dyeing a pink color. He lifted his head from the pillow, looking down at your body. His face was slack with his post-orgasmal bliss. 

“Oh,” he said quietly as he looked you up and down. “I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

You chuckled quietly. “I know. Don’t worry about that, though. I’ll need to take a shower after all this anyways.”

But Tenna wasn’t listening to you. Instead, he shuffled back a bit before leaning down and licking you. Now, it was your time to gasp.

“T-Tenna!” You stuttered. 

He looked up at you. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

“I… cleaning you up?” It was said with a lilt, as if he was suddenly unsure of his decision to lick his come off of you. “Should I not?”

You hid your face in your hands. “N-no, no. You can, you can keep going.”

Tenna lowered his head and continued to lap at you, passing his large tongue over your breasts, your ribs, your stomach. Your body twitched slightly with each lick, his hot, wide tongue leaving a fizzy feeling that dissipated quickly. It only took a bit before he was done, collapsing to the side and nestling his head in your body.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, tired from the recent physical activity. Tenna felt like everything was in slow-motion, like one of those reel-back cams that made everything more dramatic.

“We messed the bed up even more,” you finally groaned, tongue heavy in your mouth.

Tenna hummed, still blissed out from the orgasm. “I’ll buy us a new one.”

He didn’t even realise what he said, happily nuzzling into your stomach, pressing kisses into the skin. You, however, did. Your hand paused for a moment before returning to stroking the top of his casing.

“I think that’d be nice,” you said. “New sheets, too.”

“Okay. Whatever you want, darling.”

Heavens, he was so happy. He was so in love. He’d do anything you wanted at this point. If you wanted to press stickers onto his casing for the whole world to see, he’d do it. If you wanted to send him onstage with a lipstick mark on his screen, he’d do it. If you wanted to infect him with sex pollen and have him begging desperately at your feet, he’d do it. He’s not sure how you’d be able to infect him, but by the Fountain he’d let you.

Oh. He was in love with you, wasn’t he? It dawned on him slowly, like the dissipation of ripples from a stone thrown in a lake, leaving behind only the still reflection of your face, smiling at him. He had the sudden impulse to tell you, just in case you slipped away. 

“I, I think I…” His mouth was dry. 

“Yes?” Your voice, soft as silk. He wanted to listen to it forever.

“I, I want–” He licked his lips, cutting himself off. Dear angel, why couldn’t he just say it? That he was in love with you, that he wanted to be with you, he wanted you to be only his, he wanted to be only yours. His mouth moved before he could think further. “I want to be yours.”

Well, that wasn’t what he meant to say. But it was true, nonetheless. 

"Only yours," Tenna ended up saying. "I want to be your boyfriend. I want to be able to kiss you, and know that it's only me kissing you. I want, I, I–"

I want you in my bed every night. I want to see your beautiful face sleeping next to me when I wake up. I want you to stop by my office when I'm working. I want to interrupt your day and show everyone how much I love you. I want to tell you that I love you.

I love you. Do you love me?

A stunned silence followed his words, long enough that Tenna nearly took them back. You’d only just found out the extent to which his feelings extended to yesterday. Maybe he should have waited. Scratch that, he definitely should have waited. 

Tenna opened his mouth, ready to apologize, when you finally spoke. “I’d like that,” you said. He shut his mouth so quickly his teeth clicked against each other.

“Really?”

Your hand patted the top of his head. “It's me who should be asking that. The host and star of TV TIME, Mr. Tenna, asking to be my boyfriend? The guy I've been crushing on for months, asking to be my boyfriend? Of course I do!"

"Oh." Tenna was dumbfounded. Even with the revelation yesterday that you'd wanted him for some time, he didn't think it would have been that long.

"And besides," you said, after a moment, "I think ‘Tenna, my boyfriend’ has such a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Relief crashed through his body. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at you. You were smiling at him, unfiltered joy glittering in your slightly watery eyes. A dopey smile spread across his own face in return, and Tenna pulled you ever-so-slightly closer. “And... you’re my girlfriend?”

You laughed. He loved your laugh so much. It was bright and happy and he wondered if he could record it to listen to later. “Of course! What else would I be?”

It was like Tenna had never known what happiness was before. Like all the years of his life had been spent with his screen on monochrome, and he had only just discovered what colors were. Even the feeling of airing his first episode, all eyes on him, the rising star, couldn't compare to the look in your eyes.

You weren’t going to leave. You were going to stay, with him, in his studio. 

A flower threatened to burst out of his nose, swelling up and trembling. Tenna had to turn his head quickly, away from you as it popped open, a cloud of pollen falling off the side of the bed. He turned back to face you sheepishly, holding you at arm's length. He had a feeling that if he detached it from his nose right now, another one would immediately blossom in its place. You giggled at him, at the way he was so careful with it, now that he knew what it was.

Maybe he'd give the flower to you, later. There'd be a later, now. What a novel concept.

Tenna loved you. He did, he really did. He couldn't tell you now, but later, he would.

He had all the time in the world to tell you that he loved you.