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“I won't call you a good boy, Tenna,” Spamton growled, barely holding back the anger in his voice as he slammed a stack of script papers down on the table. “that commercial was terrible!
Tenna, who had clearly been expecting praise, couldn’t believe he’d gotten the opposite, which made his plug-tail twitch.
“W–What? No, c’mon, it wasn’t that bad! I was— i was trying, Spams! You saw me!”
Spamton rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a tired sigh. “Trying!? You forgot half the lines! You [GLITCHED] out every time and made us look like [THIRD-RATE STREET CLOWNS!]”
Tenna’s antennas drooped, his head tilted to the side, resembling a puppy swatted on the nose with a newspaper.
“But the script didn’t make sense! Those words are weird! Who even talks like that? Hyperlink? Subscription? I don’t use words like that on my shows!”
“Well, welcome to advertising, [PRINCESS]. People do talk like that, that’s the whole damn point—“
“Then write it clearer! You stuffed the page with jargon like e-mail pipeline o-opti— opti-maizashun. . . What the heck is that supposed to mean on camera?!”
Nerves buzzing, Tenna hated arguing with his business partner, his screen flared brighter, once again blinding Spam.
“You think [CLIENTS] give a damn if you understand it? They [Pay To Hear It By Monthly Subscription]. All you had to do was read the line. Read it!”
Oh, Spamton, if only you knew how stupid your beloved felt repeating “click, click, click” into the camera over and over.
The smaller man spoke again, not giving him time to answer. “But no! You froze up! We had to cut ten times on one line!”
“I didn’t freeze! I just— look, i wanted to make it sound natural, okay? i’m not a computer!”
“Natural? It sounded like you were choking on alphabet soup!”
“Don’t mock me!” Tenna's whole frame pulled taut, waiting to be told all of it was just a joke.
“Then don’t waste my time, Tenna. We don’t get second chances with ad slots.”
“You think i don’t know that?! I care about this as much as you do, maybe more!”
“Ha! If you cared, you’d memorize three lines without crying over the word hyperlink.”
“That word makes no sense in context! Click the hyperlink for more details, why would i say that out loud?! It’s stupid.”
“Stupid!? Those [CUE CARDS] were worth more than your whole show!”
“Then maybe your cards should be up there charming the audience, huh? Because you sure as hell weren’t!” Tenna bared his fangs, trying to look menacing.
They froze, staring at each other in stunned silence. Not that fights like this were rare, they were both emotional, after all, but today’s work had been exhausting.
Spamton hated when he had no proper answer, and this was one of those times. Tenna was fucking right. And the salesman, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows, decided he needed a smoke to calm down, so he turned wordlessly and headed for the door.
He was almost out, his hand already pressing the handle.
“At least i don’t beg for crumbs like a rat when the so-called clients stop calling.”
The smaller man stopped dead.
And when the hell had his tv gotten so bold?
Though the choice of words shocked him, it cut deeper that Tenna knew him well enough to hit his weak spot.
Slowly, Spam turned back, revealing eyes burning with pure rage. The corners of his mouth twitched upward in a crooked smile. He stepped closer.
“Say that again.”
Tenna, still blazing bright with hurt, tilted his head, crossed his arms, and repeated the phrase, curling his lips, aware that he was throwing gasoline on the fire.
Rolling up his shirt sleeves, Spamton lunged, practically crashing into the showman, who staggered back, losing balance.
Tenna was taller, hellishly taller, but after the earlier argument and the guilt gnawing at him for what he’d said (he never wanted to fight his beloved), that advantage evaporated. The TV’s looming height shrank, leaving them almost equal. Almost, because Tenna was still far bigger than Spamton.
They clashed instantly, the salesman’s hands gripping the lapels of the red blazer, while the host’s long fingers clamped around his wrists.
Tenna growled, trying to shake him off, but Spamton strained toward his screen, as if he wanted to smash his forehead against it to break it, and when he realised he couldn’t reach, he switched tactics to his favorite one. Small hands fisted in the yellow tie, yanking down hard, nearly tearing the fabric.
Their faces were suddenly close, breaths mixing.
But not for long.
The television won back control. Tenna caught Spamton by the waist, using his size and weight to push him down. It tore a strangled moan from his partner as he cursed. Still, Tenna managed to slam him against the desk, papers crumpling under the pressure. Not that he gave a damn, he hadn’t liked today’s script anyway. His knees pressed into Spamton’s thighs, pinning him.
The wood groaned beneath them, Spam’s back smacking the surface, but he only arched up to meet it, grinning.
“There’s my [[BIG MAN]]. Took you long enough to show teeth. You think you’ve won, huh? Go on, say it. Insult me again.” Spamton’s voice spilled out, shaking with adrenaline and arousal. Oh, how he loved when this supposedly innocent TV showed his cute fangs.
Tenna loomed over him, unaware of his own strength, chest heaving. Still driven by the fight and emotions, he hissed, leaning down close, so that their long noses touched, amusingly clashing with each other.
“You’re just an email no one reads. Dead words in a dead inbox.”
A wide, shameless grin spread across Spamton’s face, infuriating the TV host even more, and he laughed hoarsely right in his face.
“Hah, [That’s My Real Boy!] Learned well, didn’t you? Filthy little bastard.” yeah, it looked like the process of fighting was turning this bastard on just as much as sex itself.
In response, Tenna exhaled sharply, clutching him tighter.
“I didn’t want to fight you, Spammy. I didn’t want to argue. But you just have to spit your poison at me, don’t you?”
Why did this little, arrogant, cocky salesman drive him crazier than anyone ever could?
Then again, if he didn’t bite, Tenna would get bored. Probably.
“Oh, i spit poison? Take a look at yourself, what’s the matter, [HOTSHOT]? My poison turn you on?” he arched closer.
And indeed, together with the fury, Tenna’s body betrayed what he had tried to avoid. The suit didn’t hide what was happening below the waist. Spamton’s gaze slid down, lingered, and his lips twitched in a satisfied grin.
“Well, well, is that [Discount For Me?]“
The taller man froze for a moment, breathing hard, not immediately realising what his beloved was talking about. But the words stung because they were true, and Tenna felt heat rush where it shouldn’t.
Though, he only wanted to slam this asshole harder into the desk for that arrogance, pin him immobile, but Spamton suddenly lifted a leg and pressed it into Tenna’s crotch.
The sharp heel ran across his hard cock through the fabric of his pants, making his body jerk, and his screen flash, static bursting across it. Tenna couldn’t hold back a short, ragged exhale, and that was enough for Spamton to slip from the hold like a rat, twist out of his partner's arms, and instantly grab his tail.
Pain and rage pierced the showman instantly, the tail was his most vulnerable spot, and Spam’s tug drew out a strangled growl. Tenna lost balance, and in the scramble they both went crashing to the floor together, though the position now pushed them much closer and tighter. Chest to chest, thigh to thigh.
Gathering his strength, Tenna once again loomed over Spamton, holding his shoulders down, and the salesman only grinned wider, eyes burning with madness.
“Hit a nerve, didn’t i?”
This struck a chord. Without hesitation, just because, Tenna tilted his head and spat, landing across Spamton’s cheek.
Time stopped for half a beat.
The salesman froze, realising what just happened. Then he laughed, delighted. “Hah! Ohhh, you dirty bastard. That’s how you wanna play?” Tenna's screen flashed bright red as he saw how his partner's tongue darted out, licking the smear from his cheek. “You think i don’t like it when you get nasty?”
To hell with all this. Spamton lunged first, practically biting into Tenna’s lips. Not that Tenna didn’t like rough contact, of course, but truth be told, tender, romantic, slow kisses were far more his preference. But his partner didn't seem to care, though, rewarding him with painful, sharp ones, and Tenna couldn’t stop wanting it anyway. Their tongues collided, and it felt like they were actually trying to devour each other. Gnawing pieces off one another, they looked like wild animals at meat.
However, Spamton had always been drawn to the idea of inhabiting Tenna in ways that weren’t only sexual.
Along with this, his bold hands tore upward, grabbing Tenna’s shirt. The fabric strained, buttons clattering loud across the floor, leaving the host’s bare metal chest exposed under Spamton’s quick fingers. The showman moaned into the kiss, clutching him tighter.
“You think you’re choking me out?” Spamton hissed when Tenna’s hands locked around his tiny throat, squeezing and pressing, “[GO ON], do it, squeeze harder, show me what a failure of a host you are, just like you botched that sponsor deal, remember?”
“Lie! You made it happen with your greed! Don’t you dare blame me!” Tenna’s fingers curled harder around Spamton’s throat, the salesman started to gag, a wet cough popping out of him.
Amusing how effortlessly Spam could get this TV going.
Suddenly, Tenna’s whole frame convulsed when Spamton’s filthy hands slipped deeper into the cracked opening of his chest plate, clawing past the sharp rim until his fingers closed around a bundle of wires, yanking them hard, delighting in the way the TV's body convulsed as he forced his mouth open with a low, muffled groan.
Spamton’s grin stretched wide as he gave another sharp yank, watching the tremor ripple through the showman's tall body. “[SENSITIVE, SENSITIVE, SENSITIVE!] I barely touch you here and you’re losing your goddamn signal, [PRINCESS].”
“I don’t—“ Tenna barely forced the words out, his screen burned with static haze, “you are such a, aghh, a r-rat.” no matter how much he loathed admitting it, he was shaking uncontrollably, his arched back said it all.
The strands hummed, buzzing with signals that translated directly into Tenna’s nerves. It was getting harder to resist, especially with Spam’s heel pressing his cock, and fingers hooking into the wires at the same time, making Tenna experience a real mix of pain and sweet, scorching sensation, the whole system was on the brink of overheating.
If he fell, he could crush his beloved flat against the floor, but Spamton looked like he would welcome it.
Yet Spam’s mouth never left his, biting down hard enough that Tenna’s lip split, thin glowing fluid ran down across the CRT glass, staining it like molten neon.
His leg pressed insistently against the bulge in Tenna's pants. “Such pathetic little sounds you make. Good dog.”
“Wait,” Tenna hated how little control he had and how obvious it was, yet the words broke from him anyway, his antennae dropped guiltily and he tried to hide his face in Spam’s neck. “I’m close. Just— just a little more.”
“Close? From this? From my fucking leg brushing you? Seriously? You’re telling me the great [LORD OF SCREENS] is about to blow just from being rubbed like a dog against my knee?”
However, the thought of Tenna actually losing it like that, just from him, was hotter than he’d admit. But no, tonight Tenna doesn’t get to finish without this bastard tearing into him first.
Humiliation made the TV screen spark and flare, something Spamton would’ve cursed at normally, if his hands weren’t too busy digging deeper into the chestplate, brushing raw wiring with his fingertips.
“[STEP RIGHT UP, FOLKS!], [Limited-time Offer Of Obedience Right Here],” Spamton purred, letting his thumb slide along one of the wires, plucking it like a violin string. Tenna’s whole body shivered in response, and his hands loosened from Spamton’s throat as he helplessly rubbed against the salesman’s leg still caught between his own.
“It’s not fair, you know— you know it’s not.”
“Is it?” he laughed nasty, and yanked the wire again, until Tenna arched once more, hips writhing so obscenely that all business deals be damned, Spam wanted to rail his dumb television on the spot.
But that could wait until home. Right now he had something more important to do.
Waiting until his partner lowered his head again, the smaller man brushed his lips against the trembling corner of the host’s mouth, “You wanna cum, right? You wanna cum on me ‘til your wires spark out? You think you deserve that after today?”
Tenna swallowed, desperate. “I did my best!”
“[THE BEST OF THE BEST?] Your best got us laughed off set!! Don’t tell me about your fucking best. Admit it! You failed.”
Silence hung again, broken only by Tenna’s ragged breathing and the cooling system grinding in his body. He couldn’t let himself agree, pride screaming louder than the pleasure devouring him.
Spamton tilted his head. “Ohhh, i see. Big guy doesn’t wanna play honest. Fine then! Guess who’s not getting the fun tonight, huh? Oh, that’s right, you. Because if you won’t play by my rules, you don’t get to play at all.” he let go of the wires with a cruel flick, ignoring the broken noise Tenna made when the sensation cut off too abruptly. “No reward for you. Bad boy, Tenna, bad.”
The sudden absence of contact left Tenna’s thoughts stuttering, body chasing what had been there a second ago as confusion replaced control. That single pause was all the salesman needed, twisting out from under him and shoving him down in one fluid sweep.
Straddling the television’s stomach, he planted himself there like he’d won a throne, breathless and furious, his hair plastered to sweat-slick temples as he stared down at his dazed partner.
“W–what are you—“
“Shut it. You don’t get to [ASK ABOUT THE DETAILS OF THE DEAL LATER].” he shoved Tenna back against the floor, denying him the release and keeping him pinned like his prey as his hand slid under his own trousers.
The zipper came down with a rough pull, and in one motion Spamton finally freed himself, revealing the tip which was already shining with pre.
Tenna prayed his screen wouldn’t betray him, wouldn’t light up with the filth racing through his head. God, how he ached to take it into his mouth, gag on that cock, and swallow until there was nothing left.
He wanted it down his throat so badly it hurt.
“You get to watch, that’s all. Sit there, [BIG SHOT], watch, and remember what you lost. Because you couldn’t say three little words, [I FUCKED UP.]”
The poor showman had never felt so humiliated, starving for relief he refused to beg for, but remaining so desperate for his man, hungry beyond sense. The glow of his screen flickered, flickered again, until he couldn't tear his spellbound gaze away from Spamton, who was already breathing heavily as his fist pumped faster.
“I carried the whole damn show! Without me, we wouldn’t have an audience!”
“Audience? Please! You made me look like a charity case in front of the suits. You think i didn’t hear the snickers when you froze? You dragged me down with you, cathode.”
Spamton straddled him like a rider on a wild beast, pressing against the frame of his body. The bastard kept himself angled so Tenna had no choice but to look, vision flooded by the sight of the salesman’s flushed cock glistening under office light.
“Yes, yes, TV-boy. [LIMITED TIME OFFER]. Watch what you don’t get.”
Tenna’s fists clenched against the floorboards, claws biting deep. He wanted to throw this parasite off, but the throb in his groin betrayed him. His screen glowed brighter, another wave of static washing across the glass, making every attempt at composure look more pitiful.
“Say it,” Spamton spat between ragged breaths, his free hand tangling in Tenna’s tie, yanking his throat upward. “Say you failed. Admit it, and maybe, ill let you feel me again.”
Tenna bared his fangs again. “I didn’t fail, the script was horrible, your edits— your damn edits made no sense. I carried it as best i could. You failed it, not me.”
Spamton laughed as he gave himself another vicious tug, sweat dripping from his temple onto the screen beneath him. “Blame me all you want, [TOOTS]. Still doesn’t change the fact you’re hard as hell under me. So, sure!! Stay stubborn, and [WATCH! WATCH!] me finish.”
Undoubtedly, his words stung, yet the heat between Tenna's long legs only deepened, straining the fabric of his trousers. He could feel the vibrations of his own overworked fans, spinning uncontrollably as though ready to burst.
That's why Tenna’s fingers twitched at the seam of his trousers, edging along himself in quiet strokes, hoping Spamton, so lost in his own frantic pleasure, wouldn’t notice. He pressed a little harder, testing the boundary, praying the salesman stayed too absorbed to catch the subtle betrayal of his own fingers.
Yes, yes, just like that, just watching Spamton jerk himself was enough to push Tenna to the edge.
Of course it wasn’t meant to last. Perhaps it was stupid to think the jerk straddling him wouldn’t notice.
“Ohh. . . ohhh, you sneaky bastard. Trying to steal it, huh?”
Tenna froze, caught. Heat spread across his screen, the glow betraying him in trembling bursts. “You weren’t going to give it to me! I had no choice!”
“No choice? Seriously? You’ve got [ALL THE CHOICE IN THE WORLD], TV-boy. One word, failure, and i'd drag you apart right here under me. But nooo, too stubborn, too proud!! What, are you gonna leak in your pants like the loser you are?”
“It's not like—“
“Hands off,” Spamton interrupted him. “[NO EARLY ACCESS].”
The TV host writhed, but the smaller man fought dirty, using the tie for leverage and pinning Tenna’s arms to the floor. His free hand found his cock again, stroking twice, before he crawled forward and pressed down against the bare chest revealed through torn buttons as if the man beneath him were nothing but furniture.
“Yeahhh, that’s better.”
Tenna shuddered, a growl tearing out of his chest. He hated him. Hated how much he wanted him. Hated how his body lit up at every cruel touch, every venomous word.
“Pathetic. My filthy, prideful starboy, reduced to this. You think you’re still winning?”
The television glowed, hating how much he wanted to say yes.
Yes, Spamton was disgusting, yet Tenna happily drowned in his filth.
Spam's grin tilted cruel as his eyes dropped. Tenna, all dressed up for the cameras, chest busted out of his suit, pretty little screen glowing, and still leaking like a cheap fountain. Pathetic.
That's why he ripped Tenna's fly open in one brutal jerk, and his cock sprang free, throbbing and needy.
“Time to make those hands useful, [TRASH HEAP]. You want me to believe you’re a good partner? Show me.”
Tenna froze, heat and humiliation crashing together. His hands, still pinned, twitched against the floor.
Seeing his command ignored, Spamton leaned closer, twisting the wire in rhythm with his next words in frustration. “Touch me back, television. Wrap those [SHOWBIZ HANDS] around me, or ill finish all over your chest and leave you sparking for hours.”
Tenna’s pride coiled in his gut, but every tug at his tie, like a misbehaved dog, stripped it thinner.
“Do it,” Spamton repeated. “Show me those hands can work for something other than fumbling through scripts. Wrap me up, c’mon.”
Tenna’s fangs bared again, shame twisting into anger. “You don’t command me! I'm not— not your puppet.”
“Puppet? Well, better than a useless TV stuck on repeat. Stop whining and touch me.”
Shaking, the host tried to resist as his wrists twitched uselessly against the grip holding him down. And lying to himself didn’t work too, despite the fact that they’d already touched each other earlier today before work, it was never enough for Tenna.
So when Spam twisted the wire again, harder this time, the noise that tore from him didn’t sound like resistance at all, desperate for contact he swore he didn’t need.
The salesman leaned in, letting his teeth brush the edge of the glowing glass. “Admit it, starboy. You love being my [LIMITED-EDITION] [ALL-ACCESS PROPERTY!!]”
Not wanting to hear any more, because then he risked cumming untouched, Tenna cut him off. “I— I don’t— fuck, Spams—”
“You don’t what?” Spamton mocked, rocking his hips down again, grinding his leaking cock against the hard planes of the chest beneath him. “You don’t like it? Liar. Your whole system’s overheating under me.”
Finally, with a curse spat through clenched teeth, Tenna’s hands lifted as they wrapped around the salesman’s length. Big, shaking hands, stroking him with clumsy hunger that gave away exactly how much he wanted this.
Tenna's movements caused Spamton to let out a low groan as it echoed through the office. “Ohhh, yeah, [THIS IS THE PRODUCT I'M TALKING ABOUT]. Finally found a way you’re not completely worthless. Knew you had to be good for something, baby.”
“Can’t you keep your mouth shut?!”
Spamton hissed out a laugh, rolling his hips into the grip, but his filthy hands never stayed idle. They clawed again at the chest plate, twisting deep into the exposed wiring until Tenna jolted once more, however, that shattered his rhythm and his hand faltered and tightened too hard, what made the salesman’s head snap back with a growl.
“Shit, i was just praising you!” his eyes narrowed at how quickly his partner unraveled. “i give you one job, Tenna, stroke me, and you can’t even keep it steady? Every time i touch these wires you fall apart like a [CHEAP SET PIECE].”
“Shut up! Maybe if you didn’t rip me open like some toy, i could actually keep it steady!”
“Huh? But that's all you are, sweetheart, a [BIG, TALL, SQUEALING TOY AT A DISCOUNT!!]”
“You— you think you’re better? All you do is talk, talk, talk and scam, Spams. You wouldn’t last a second with a real partner!”
Spamton laughed into his face, grabbing him by the tie and shaking him like a misbehaving mutt. “Real partner!? i’m the only reason you’re still worth airing, cathode!!”
Still, his hand was sliding lower, greedy little thief, curling around Tenna’s cock and dragging a needy whine out of his TV with just two strokes before he smashed their lengths together, squeezing hard enough that Tenna’s heel slammed the floor.
“See? Not so different. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
Both of them groaned in different pitches, one hoarsely, and the other splintered by static. Spamton thrusted against the taller man’s body. “hey, toots, how about a [HOT NEW DEAL]!? first one to blow's the [BIG LOOSER], and the [LOOSER’S] the one on their knees, got it?”
Tenna chuckled weakly. “Th-Thats your idea of control? Sounds desperate, mailman, c-cant even get off unless you make it a game?”
Grinding harder, the smaller man let his forehead press against his screen. “You sure, baby? Dripping all over me like a busted faucet, you mean this is control? Good luck trying to boss me around.”
“At least i’m not pathetic enough to threaten my own partner just to get off.”
Spamton tugged another wire until sparks snapped across his bleeding knuckles. “Dont flatter yourself, [RATINGS BOOST!]. You sure you're not already broken? Might be time to trade you in for a model that can actually keep it together.”
But the way he was being talked to, Tenna really didn’t like at all, because the bastard sitting on him had struck right at his most painful insecurity. In response to this, the TV host growled, thrusting his hips upward, smashing their erections together with force. “I’m not— not broken! You’re the one clawing at me like a fiend. You need me more than I’ll ever need you.”
“[HAH!!] Big words from a glowbox who can’t even keep his hand steady.” Spamton shoved harder, thrusting his hips so their shafts slid wetly together, dragging both closer. “Useless, prideful [BUDGET EDITION], you’ll never last.”
Tenna's fingers tightened in Spamton’s tie, yanking him downward until their mouths nearly crashed. “You talk too much.”
They kissed again, though the roughness was starting to fade, and both of them melted more into each other now. Yet, tasting the blood in the host’s mouth, Spamton moaned into him and licked up the liquid that seeped from the little wound. The television groaned in response, pulling his partner closer, clawing at his black hair until tufts stuck between his fingers.
Breathing into each other’s mouths, they fought even while kissing, Spamton’s hands still working both their cocks together, sliding wet and furious, and every time Tenna bucked, the salesman pushed harder, refusing to give him satisfaction first.
“Hate you,” Spamton panted against his lips, words muffled by the next messy kiss. “fuck. . .”
“Nggh, g-good,” Tenna hissed back, catching his bottom lip between sharp teeth. “hate you too.”
Both were so tense, so much that their cursing was swallowed by moans into each other’s mouths. However, Tenna knew his beloved inside out, after all the sleepless nights they’d shared, Spamton’s body language was second nature to him. And now, his partner was showing all the signs that he was about to finish any moment, so Tenna prepared himself, already forgetting about their stupid deal.
His long arms wrapped around the smaller man, pulling him closer, his screen burning against Spamton’s forehead. “Closer. Don’t you dare pull away.”
Spamton squeezed harder, rutting against him, his eyes screwed shut in effort. He was close and every needy moan spilling from this dumb television made it worse.
“Please, on me, Spammy, like last time, please.”
For now, his words were being ignored, Spamton really didn’t hear him. Until Tenna started peppering his partner’s face with short kisses, over his brow, eyelids, jaw, the corners of his mouth. “Please, darling. I need it. I need you.” finally, a collapse of the stubborn pride that had held him back.
Spamton half-opened his eyes, unable to focus his gaze on the TV screen, at least the damn thing had dimmed the light so it wouldn’t blind him. For a moment he let his gaze fall to their cocks, seeing how they had dirtied each other, and he quickly shut them again so he wouldn’t cum just from that sight.
Then he snarled, forcing himself back into motion, rubbing them together faster, mixing Tenna's liquid with his own as their stomachs glistened. “You’re pathetic, begging like that, baby, just can’t resist me, huh?”
“Yes, i’m yours, my love, do whatever you want, please.”
Furrowing his brows, Spamton was fighting the sweet, heavy ache low in his stomach. “I’ll, hahh— i’ll smear it all over your screen.”
Tenna didn’t relent, continuing to shower his boyfriend with kisses. The smaller man jerked when the showman's plug-tail coiled around him, holding him in place. Was his TV really that far gone?
“Do it, cover me— please.”
Spamton nearly lost it just hearing him say it.
God, he probably deserved a damn medal for how long he held out, considering how hot his precious television looked and sounded beneath him, squirming with pleasure, begging him to finish.
Just about now, any second, he was going to cum, and that would be the end of it.
But Spam didn’t agree with that, and he wasn’t about to give victory to his beloved, despite how much he loved him. No way, that TV already had plenty of trophies as it was.
He was shaking, so close it hurt. One look at him, trembling, begging, beautiful in his ruin, and the salesman nearly lost his grip.
He couldn’t afford to lose, not after taunting him so brutally.
So the salesman did what he did best.
Leaning down to the exposed plate of Tenna’s chest, he opened his mouth, grazing the steel with his teeth and tracing his tongue along the wires he had pulled free earlier.
“Sp-Spam, no! Don’t you dare,” Tenna’s big hands tried to catch his lover’s head. “Idiot, you’ll fry yourself!”
Just as well as Tenna knew his body, Spamton knew his wires and circuits. That's why he flattened his tongue against the sparking cluster, careful, he had done this before, he knew how to ground the shock and how to avoid the worst of it. He knew which wires could fry him and which he’d already learned to toy with.
Apparently, a few burns in the past, sure, but experience made him precise. This was the sweet spot, dangerous enough to make Tenna shake apart, harmless enough to leave him safe.
And the effect was instant, as always. The most sensitive spot. Tenna’s screen flared white as coolant burst from him in glowing spurts, coating both their stomachs and dripping down the salesman’s wrist. He arched helplessly, kicking his legs against the floor, voice breaking in static-laced moans that filled the room.
Spamton pulled back to laugh in triumph, chin smeared in his lover’s fluids. “Gotcha, you fucking blew it, cathode!! Look at you, my big, prideful star, creaming yourself the second i bite your pretty wires.” he licked his lips.
Tenna collapsed back against the floor, antennae trembling. His throat worked like he wanted to speak, but only static hissed out for a few seconds. When his voice finally returned, it was hoarse with fury. “You. . . cheated.”
Spamton smirked, wiping his bloody knuckles across the glowing screen. “[There Are [[No Rules In Business]], Babe.]”
But the TV’s pride wasn’t so easily swallowed.
Big hands snapped to Spamton’s hips, pulling the smaller man forward until his crotch was pressed against the glass. He yelped, thrown off balance. Tenna tilted his head, flashing his fangs, and without ceremony shoved the smaller man’s cock between his lips.
“Fuck!” Spamton groaned, one of his hands found its way into tv’s antennae, tugging them, trying to regain control as the host swallowed him whole. But the showman worked him mercilessly, sucking him down to the base, humming low so the vibration made the salesman’s knees weak. “No, nnghh— fuck, you dirty TV, y-you cheating.”
Tenna finally popped off, saliva and pre slicking his mouth, and smirked with sharp teeth glinting. He opened wide, leaning back. “On me, sugar, do it on me again. Cover me. You wanted to humiliate me? Then cum where everyone can see it. On my screen. Like last time.” Tenna was on the edge of howling, begging for a mark no camera could ever erase, proof that Spamton owned him, claimed him.
The salesman snarled, thrusting his hips forward, pumping himself with one hand. “You’re disgusting. Begging me to stain your precious screen. My dirty little cathode.” his grip tightened painfully on his antennae.
“Yes,” Tenna repeated, nodding eagerly. “Yours. Do it. Please. Mark me, Spammy, right here.”
That was it. That was the end.
Spamton doubled over with a strangled groan, hips jerking forward as release tore out of him. It hit the glass, marking his television exactly as he’d meant, running down over the glowing static in messy trails.
“Always perfect when it’s you.”
Both of them were a mess, sprawled crooked on the floor beside the desk they’d almost destroyed in the fight.
Tenna’s fangs caught the glow of the monitor light as he gave a tired grin. “I thought you would last longer.“
Spamton snorted, elbowing him in the chest. “At least i don’t spark like a busted socket every time someone nibbles my wires??”
Tenna's arms slid upward, looping around Spamton’s smaller frame, pulling him in. The TV host pressed their foreheads together. “you’re lucky i let you get away with that trick.”
“More like you're addicted, cathode.” Spamton scoffed, though his face softened as Tenna’s nose brushed against his.
The nuzzling grew insistent though, little affectionate presses of Tenna’s screen and nose against Spamton’s. It was needy, the way a starved creature clings to warmth after being fed. His pride, for once, had nothing to say.
Spamton rolled his eyes but didn’t move away. “God, you’re worse than a dog. Can’t even keep your face off me now, huh?”
“You like it,” Tenna murmured as he rubbed their noses again.
“Don’t think this gets you out of tomorrow’s shoot. And uh, you better find another suit for tomorrow, hotshot. This one’s toast.”
“Think I’ll wear your tie then. . . and nothing else.” Tenna tried to wink by flashing his display.
It looked so stupidly cute that despite himself, Spamton let the laugh slip out, before letting his head rest fully against the glowing screen.