Archive of Our Own

Spamton still didn't get the whole "movie marathon" thing. He supposed it was a good time to just relax with the family, maybe with friends, eating junk food. He didn't really fully see the benefits — but, well, it usually makes Tenna happy, so he could get down with it. 

The big shot is chilling in the dressing room, resting his eyes as he waits for the CRT. He’s been waiting for a while, longer than usual, but Spamton figures that’s what Saturdays are for, for those Lightners Tenna goes on and on about. Sitting around watching TV all day.

So he waits, watching the doorway.

The light above the door that says ON AIR finally goes dim after what seems like an eternity; darkners of all shapes and sizes start to pour out off the stage, chattering excitedly. Shuttahs, Pippins, and shadow guys all pat each other’s backs and tell each other job well done. 

And finally, the last off the stage, as always, comes Tenna. He’s smiling wide, but there’s a certain way his body moves that indicates that he’s exhausted.

He smiles at Spamton, screen brightening just a little bit.

“Hey there, big shot! Sorry to leave you hanging for so long. Things went late. The kids wanted an extra couple of movies.”

Spamton swings his legs off the couch and gets up with a grin. "You look bushed," he says, trotting over to take Tenna's hands, walking backwards to pull him towards the couch. Tenna, to his credit, is led over to the couch without much fuss, and settles into the seat comfortably. "How many movies this time?"

“Oh, it started out with two, but Toriel was out, so the kids managed to egg out another three from Asgore. Those kids should sleep till about, maybe eight AM tomorrow.” Tenna laughs softly, fond smile on his face as he talks about his Lightners. “Tori was so miffed when she came home and the kids were still up!! Haha. Oh boy. Asgore’s gonna hear about that in the morning.”

Spamton hums, nodding. "That's a solid number! Wonder if they'll break their record next week." He sits on the couch where there's space near Tenna’s head. He reaches out and boops the CRT’s nose. "You did great, though. As always." 

“Heh! Well. You know how it is. I’m a performer. It’s my job.” Tenna grins. His screen flickers and dims as he stretches, nose disappearing as soon as Spamton’s fingers brush against it. “I — mmh! — I hope the kids don’t break that record, though. Golly. My screen’ll experience burnout at this rate.”

"I know, doesn't mean you don't deserve someone’s praise for it, big guy. I’m sure they'll be scolded a bit and a rule will be set for the future."

“Maybe, but, oh, you know Kris and Dess,” Tenna waves a hand with a laugh. “They think rules are meant to be broken. I give it two weeks, tops, before they crack any passwords Tori sets. They’ve already got the parental controls down.” He chuckles, hand dropping to rest against his chest. “The commercials were a hit today too. You did great.”

"Of course I did." Spamton puffs up happily, obviously complimented. He smiles down at Tenna with a soft smile. "A lot of these new toys are coming out, battery powers with remotes and shit. New games, board and otherwise. Right now’sa advertisement boom, I'm tellin' ya!"  

“And all those videos game too,” Tenna adds with excitement, “And that means more time in front of the television!” the CRT adds a giggle, gleeful. And then — he yawns, though he tries to hide it. His screen pops back up in brightness, and his nose magically reappears. “Well! Better get started getting ready for the morning. This was a nice break, love letter. Thank you.”

Tenna reaches in, to smooch Spamton’s nose, but is stopped by a hand. His screen flickers, confusion evident on his screen, as his business partner shakes his head.

"Nope!" Spamton chirps, pushing Tenna back down to the couch gently. "Already talked with Mike, he's got everything covered until you're called. You, mister, are relaxing."

“Wh — you went above me?! You talked to Mike without me??” Tenna splutters. He frowns, a little upset, watching Spamton push him down inch by inch. “Spammy… I can really do it. Honest.”

"Sure you can do it," Spamton retorts, running a hand throug his hair, "But that doesn't mean you should. You've been running ragged, boss, take care of yourself."

“That’s not fair. You calling me boss. You know I like that.” Tenna huffs with a pout. His screen dims just a bit, but he doesn’t try to get up again. “And I’m not running ragged. I’m doing just fine. I think.”

Spamton just grins, before raising an eyebrow. He leans a bit. 

"You think, huh?" He asks. "I usually am sure when I'm fine. If I'm questioning shit, it's probably bad."

“You just worry too much, big shot,” Tenna laughs, gently pushing Spamton’s shoulder. He snickers, shaking his head. “Are you nesting, or something? You’re not usually one to get mother hen-y.”

Spamton huffs out his nose, indignant. "Believe me, if I was nesting you'd know." A pause, before the big shot sighs. "I guess if you have to... I already have this weeks ads cycle done... guess I'll just stay here all alone..."

Tenna blinks. Frowns. He doesn’t move to get up, which means Spamton’s little guilt trip is working just as it should.

“You can’t go back to the dressing room? … or up to the penthouse?” A brief moment passes, before he adds, tone worried, “Am I working you too hard, Spamton?”

Spamton leans back, stretching and laying partially on Tenna, shaking his head. "Oh. I dunno. Feels like all you focus on is work, work, work."  

“I mean … what else can I do? I’m a television. I’m supposed to make them happy. If I don’t, they’ll throw me away… or worse! Get a new television!” Tenna shudders at the thought. “I just … there’s always something I can do, you know?”

"Tenna, boss," Spamton interrupts. "You literally have an entire cast and crew to help you. You don't need to push yourself so hard. We want you to succeed but we also want you taken care of."

“You’re calling me boss again,” Tenna whines softly. “You know what that does to me. You’re not playing fair.” Tenna huffs, but doesn’t move. He knows he should. He knows he should, but… his body is too heavy to move. 

“It’s …my job to take care of the crew,” he offers weakly.

"And they're cared for." Spamton promises, a grin spreading across his face. "Why don't you let me take care of you for a bit, boss?"

“Right now? In the green room? … at two in the morning?” Tenna’s screen flickers foggily as he tries to connect the dots here. “Weren’t you just trying to get me to go to bed?”

Spamton groans, rolling his head back to look up at Tenna from below. "Yeah but you're being stubborn. I thought if I gave a good reward, you'd listen." 

The addison gives a big, exaggerated sigh, shaking his head and shifting away to stand, to push away from Tenna. Panic seems to spike in the CRT’s body when he sees Spamton move to get up. He hastily follows, stumbling as he scrambles to find balance as he does.

“Wait — where are you going?” He asks, voice going high pitched and nervous. “Why are you leaving? I thought — I thought you wanted me to …”

"I'm just going to lock the doors, don't worry. I wanna take care of you, get you to rest some. Can't do what I want if Mike or someone strolls in."

“Oh… right. The doors.”

Still. It’s clear that Tenna’s nervous. What if one of the lightners sneak back downstairs for late night tv viewing? Someone has to be out there. Someone has to put on the show! Someone —

Each of the locks click, one by one, and Tenna forces his mind to go silent. Or at least… quiet enough for him to deal with. 

Spamton walks over, almost reading his partners mind: "Mike's running re-runs for me if one of the kids wakes up.

"Now," he adds. "Will you let me help you?"

“You talked with Mike about that too? Why wasn’t I involved?” Tenna whines, but he doesn’t move, body still so heavy; his shoulder digs uncomfortably into the couch. Spamton merely raises an eyebrow.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me truthfully and confidently that you wouldn't shoot me and Mike down immediately."

“I should at least be part of the process!” Tenna shoots back. “It’s my show! I should know when you guys are going behind my back to prepare reruns! You know Kris hates them.”

"I know that, but you can't always be making new stuff! What happens if they visit another house and their TV has reruns? It's not natural, TV always have reruns. Commercials, movies, TV shows—" 

Spamton pauses; inhales, exhales. He brings his hands to his mouth and repeats the inhale and exhale, breathing slow and with intent.

"I'm not arguing over this. Do you want me to take care of you? If not, we can leave and continue being stressed and bottled up."

Tenna has to hold his breath and count to ten to avoid bursting into tears. If it was anyone else, anyone else, he wouldn’t have thought twice, but Spamton hates when he cries, and even if he’s stressed, even if he’s upset, he doesn’t want his mailman hating him.

It would be too much.

“Take care of me how,” he says instead, voice trembling. “Do you seriously think an orgasm is just going to… make it all go away?” 

Spamton blinks.

"That's not the goal. The goal is bringing you down from the edge of a breakdown and getting you to relax and feel better. An orgasm isn't necessarily the end all be all."

He pauses, and squints down at Tenna’s body, at all his anxious tells. Tenna prides himself on pushing himself to the point of exhaustion, but his body language is pretty easy to read once people pay attention. 

"You're doing that tappy thing with your feet, boss. You can tell me if I'm hurting your feelings, Tenns."

“You’re not hurting my feelings…!”

Is he? Tenna doesn’t know. He’s feeling a lot of things right now. Everything is rattling around in his head, and he can’t properly parse through and organize them. Can’t put a name to them.

He swallows. Opens his mouth.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.” 

There’s a pause, before Spamton walks back over, sitting on his knees in front of the sofa. "My fault for being pushy." he admits, which is rare for him. He's usually never wrong. "Can I kiss you?"

“I … yeah. Yeah.” Tenna swallows, wiggling just a bit as he pushes himself up. Not completely, but his bulky CRT head is resting against the arm of the couch now, so he doesn’t have to strain his neck. “I’m — sorry, too,” he admits. “For. For being like … this.”

Spamton gives a sweet kiss; nothing sexually charged yet, just a soft press. 

"Don't be sorry for what you were made to do." 

His voice has gone soft, too. The tv boss hiccups.

“You don’t have this problem, though. You — don’t even care about my Lightners,” Tenna laughs weakly. His fingers twitch, like he wants to hold; like he wants to be held. He doesn’t move them. “I know this place is weird for you. I’m surprised you stick around.”

"I stick around cause you're here." He replies honestly.  "Lightners, Mike, Pippins, couldn't care less. Mr. Ant Tenna? I care about way more and more after that."

Tenna swallows hard in response. There’s not much he can say to that, is there? Spamton is totally unfair. Tenna sniffs, and wills the burn behind his screen to go away. 

“What if you found a better tv?”

"I won't. You're the best of the best, boss. I'll never leave. Besides, I like you too much to even think about it."

“But what if you do? What if everyone decides to work for a fancy flatscreen?” Tenna whines softly. He needs something. He needs to be held. He needs touch. He needs — he needs — “Please,” he hiccups, “Please, please, please…”

Spamton moves to straddle Tenna; leans to hug him, shooshing and chirping softly, hoping to calm him. Tenna sniffles, his hands moving to hold Spamton, keeping him still. Keep him close, where Tenna can see him.

"I'm not interested in that, I'm interested in you."

“Even if the flatscreen has a union?”

"I don't care about joining a union."

Tenna sniffles.

“You really mean that?” He asks, voice finally cracking. “You won’t join a handsome flatscreen tv who offers you a union and a pay raise?”

Spamton just snorts. "No, I won't. I'm not really in it for the pay, anyways." A pause. "Don't tell the other Addisons I said that."

He moves to face Tenna, hands going to the CRT’s casing. "I promise I won't fall for some flatscreen who offers me paid time off and maternity leave." 

Tenna sits up at that; he looks at Spamton with wide eyes, nearing tears.

“You need maternity leave?! What else do you need that I don't know about that some flat screen would give you?”

"I was joking!" the mailman laughs. "I was just saying words, last I checked I don't have a baby to take care of."

Aside from you, some days.

"You're fine, Tenna,” he adds, “I promise."

Tenna’s screen flickers momentarily, as he absorbs what’s said. A little glooby smile comes to his face. His screen finally settles, pixels colored a little pinker.

“A baby…"

The television man tries to push the growing warm feeling away, knowing that’s not something Spamton is into, but a tinge of it remains on his bright cheeks.

“Okay,” he says, voice stuttering. “Okay. Okay. I’m… oh, Spamton. I must make things so difficult for you.”

"Everybody makes shit difficult for me." Spamton admits.  "But ..."

He pauses.

 "Y'know, if I were to have a baby, it'd be with you." He says casually. He's not lying; Tenna could see that, with the way Spamton is looking away, the dusting of blush on his face. Tenna perks up.

A baby! A baby! He’s… wait. Tenna’s screen screws up in a frown. That’s right, Spamton —

“You’re not into this,” he says, cautious and a little hurt. “You’re trying to distract me.”

"I may not be into it," Spamton corrects, "But I have thought about it."

“You have?”

Tenna hates how his voice comes out so small. Shy. Tenna watches Spamton’s expressions, enraptured.

“You’d have a baby with me?”

A smile breaks through Spamton’s cool facade and he nods, looking softly at Tenna.

"Yeah, I would. Which, never would've expected that from anyone I've ever been with."

Tenna flushes.

“I’ve never been with anyone else,” he admits, something he knows Spamton knew. He has a policy of not fucking (most) of his employees – especially the ones who are here by no choice. “You don’t have to. It’s uncomfortable, right? For you.”

"It would be with anyone but you." He says honestly. “Do you not want me to? I'm getting some mixed signals, here."

“I mean —!!”

Of course he does. of course he does. Tenna’s screen bursts into technicolor bars, he’s blushing so badly, but —

“It’s about give and take,” he finally settles on. “I don’t want to cross your boundaries, and you really do wind up leaving me for a union loving flatscreen.”

"Is this going to be a thing, now?" Spamton asks, eyebrows raised. "I rather not talk about the union loving flatscreen when I wanna fuck you."

“I can’t help it! I keep thinking about him!”

Ah, so we’re giving the hypothetical flatscreen television a gender. Tenna is getting off topic again. He might need some help with keeping focus. Spamton stares into the CRT’s screen, expression exactly like the ones in The Office, before he reaches below himself and grabs Tenna in his pants. Tenna squeaks, and — yeah. He’s hard. He’s hard from — what, exactly? He’s not sure. Tenna swallows.

“You’d really have my baby?”

"In a heartbeat." Spamton answers, truthfully, eyes serious. Tenna shrinks a little bit — but he’s not sad. His expression is dopey, warm and excited.

 “Even if I asked for it right now?”

Spamton blinks, blushing, and finally… nods.

 "Y-Yeah? I said in a heartbeat, didn't I?"

“… yeah. You did.”

Tenna swallows. He smiles, soft and gentle.

“Can you kiss me?”

Spamton nods, leaning forward and kissing Tenna gently. Tenna returns it just as softly; fluttery, needy little kisses press against Spamton’s cheeks. His lips. The CRT tips back just slightly, pulling Spamton with him. Spamton laughs a bit at the peppered kisses, letting Tenna arrange them however he sees fit. The TV boss seems pretty happy with Spamton on top of him — his hips wiggle, excited, as he adds more and more kisses against Spamton’s face. He whines softly, hips going faster.  Spamton gasps, breaking back from kisses to catch his breath. He finally smiles at Tenna, face flushed and eyes droopy.

"What do you want me to do?"

“Whatever you want,” Tenna croaks. He’s blushing like mad, red and pink pixels dancing across his screen. Already, he’s got steam coming from his vents. “Just — touch me, please, I need you…”

Spamton grins, now. "That I can do." He begins unbuttoning Tenna's pants, his tail is wagging something fierce, and is delighted to find Tenna already half-hard. He’s straining against his boxers, screen flickering as he ruts gently against Spamton’s hand.

“Oh … mmh… Spamton.”

The Addison pulls him free of his boxers and spits in his hand, stroking Tenna slowly. "Feel good?" he asks.

“Yeah…” Tenna sighs, fluttering in his chest as he relaxes. “It feels good. You always make me feel good.”

Spamton ducks his head down; licks up the length, wetting it with spit before taking the head into his mouth. Tenna moans just from that.

“Oh —!! Careful! Don’t — stretch yourself too far — I can shrink? Do you want me to shrink?” Tenna exhales shakily. His thighs tremble. It’s so much, he can feel himself getting harder in Spamton’s mouth. Spamton pops off, looking mildly irritated, grin strained. 

"I'm fine! Let me get back to working, okay?" He winks, and gets back to business. Tenna squirms; he’s trying so hard to not just rut into Spamton’s mouth with reckless abandon. 

“Is oral really — gonna turn you on, though?” The television asks, feeling the heat beginning to pool in the bottom of his stomach, “I’d say turn around, but I can’t reach to service you too…”

Spamton rolls his eyes, sticking a hand down his pants and coming back sticky and wet. 

This is doing it for me, don't worry.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better! I should be doing something…” Tenna squeezes his eyes shut and sucks on his teeth, letting his breath out shakily. “Spamton…”

Spamton moves back, hands going in the air, "How the fuck am I supposed to work in these conditions?” 

A beat, before he shakes his head, snorting softly, 

"Don't answer that. What do you want me to do, Tenns?"

Tenna feels his screen flicker, as his hands come to wring together. “You know I have a hard time letting — go. Of control.” He feels his cock trembling in Spamton’s hands. He huffs, body shivering as he swallows. “I want you,” he finally admits, voice pleading. “I just want you.”

Without another word needed, Spamton gets to work undoing his own pants and boxers, tossing them unceremoniously over his shoulder before going to straddle Tenna. Spamton wasn't the wettest, but a good dollop of spit and a weeping cock works just fine. The mailman presses a finger to Tenna’s nose, and slowly slides it down his screen before popping it into the CRT’s mouth.

"No touching." 

“But — Spaahmtom — oh!”

Tenna keens. He shoves his hands under his back and presses his weight on them as Spamton sinks down.

He finally admits that he has a hard time with improv — and Spamton wants him to let go of control? Tenna chokes a bit, biting back tears.

“Love letter…”

"I'm only half- " Spamton gasps, throwing his head back as he finally sinks down, Tenna fully inside of him. "Tha- ahh, fuck, isn't that better?" He wiggles his hips a bit, tracing the slight bulge that shows from Tenna’s cock inside him.

"Fuck me," He says to himself.

“You just said I’m not allowed to touch,” Tenna whines softly. He squirms, feeling Spamton’s heat all around him, and has to hold his breath. “Spamt — spam — please, please, even if it’s pretend — even if it’s not — please let me put a baby in you. Even if it’s pretend.”

Spamton goes still, and then swallows, and finally settles on a nod. "Go for it," he says, voice breathy.  "Knock me up, babe." he feels himself clench at saying that, and he feels a little embarrassed as the blush spreads across his feathers, making his white glow tinted red. Tenna whimpers. He pistons his hips, tries to rut into Spamton, but —

“It’s — I c-can’t without, touching you,” he says shakily. “I need — t-to… you — please, love letter, I want your baby. Even if it’s not r — real…”

"T-Touch me," Spamton gasps as he feels Tenna thrusting, "Fuck me full, baby, you can touch me, come on-"

A hand immediately encased Spamton’s midsection — Tenna’s hands are big enough where one can encase his entire waist — and he sobs, rutting up and down inside of Spamton. Tenna pants, like a dog in heat, as he moves his hips, plowing his cock into Spamton while holding him still.

“Spamton — oh, Spamton — I love you, I love you, I love you…!”

All Spamton can do is hold on for the ride. But he doesn't seem to mind, not at all. No, it was hot, practically being used as a fleshlight, held still while being fucked mercilessly. 

"L-Love you so much," the mailman ends up choking out, hands over Tenna's. "K-Knock me up, that's what you want right? Fuck me deep and good, fill me up-"

“I want it,” Tenna hiccups, his mind racing. He needs it. He needs — 

“It’s okay?,” the television asks, nearly sobbing, almost as if he’s in disbelief, “To knock you up? Put a baby in y — ah, please, Spammy, I can — I’m so…”

Tenna squeezes his eyes shut as he pumps into Spamton, holding him still. His other finger teases at Spamton’s clit, rubbing counter clockwise.

"Oh, fuck me," Spamton gasps. feeling the first orgasm roll across him like a wave. Spamton holds his hand over Tenna's, shaking as the attention to his clit has him whining from overstimulation. Tenna swallows, regretfully pulling off of Spamton’s clit. He’s so close, he’s so—

"Come inside- it's okay, come inside-" Spamton promises, panting. "Don't you want to come in me? Fill me up and get me pregnant with your baby?" 

He leans forward and kisses Tenna. Tenna kisses his Addison’s cheeks as he gets close, hands coming up to cradle Spamton’s face, as he ruts. He’s so hard, he has to come so badly it hurts. Rainbow colored tears streak down his face as he hiccups, kissing and rutting, cock shaking from need for release.

“I d-do — but… oh, it’s such a big — responsib — oh, but a baby … your baby… your b-baby…”

"Come, babe, come in me I promise it'll be okay- aahh, fuck me you fee-fee-feel so good, Tenns, fuck- "

“Your baby,” Tenna babbles back, picking up speed, feeling how warm and wet and needy Spamton is, sucking him up, “Your baby. Your baby. I’m — gonna put it in you. Our baby…”

He’s so close. So close.

“Come again,” Tenna begs, pushing his cock to the hilt as he ruts, bumping against Spamton’s clit each shallow thrust, “come with me, come with me…”

"I will, I am, I- fuck, Tenna please- I'm- close, please, I need to-" He's babbling petnames and "yes"es and “please”es and begging for more, more, more –

"T-Tennaa--"

“Love letter…!”

With a sob, with a final thrust, Tenna comes. He goes stock-still, screen bright as possible as he feels himself coming inside of Spamton. It’s hot, thick and wet — and Tenna cries.

“Oh — oh…”

It's always a completely different, Spamton’s found in his experience, having Tenna come inside of him; there's always so much and it's always so deep and just— he feels fucked out. Spamton touches at his stomach, thoughtfully, before looking up at Tenna with soft eyes.

"I love you," he says, quietly — so quiet Tenna’s not sure he heard it, or that he was allowed to hear it. The CRT swallows as big, big tears gather in his eyes and streak down his screen. He laughs. 

Spamton doesn’t say I love you for just anything.

“I love you too,” Tenna replies in earnest, voice warped slightly with how high his emotions are. “You’re so… you’re so… oh, love letter…”

He laughs a bit, reaching to bring Spamton into a kiss. It's soft, slow, not rushed but still heated. Tenna exhales into the kiss; breathes Spamton in. 

“Love le — Spamton… oh…”

He ruts, going soft, feeling the way his cum slips out of Spamton’s cunt and onto the couch.  It’s enough to make him dizzy. Spamton moans shakily; the feeling is weird, but actually kind of hot. 

"May–maybe next time we can find something to plug me up after. I hate wasting all this." How Spamton can say it with such a straight face is a wonder. The addison feels his blush deepen; he’s practically red all over by now. 

“I have more,” Tenna croaks in reply. His hands are shaking, but he’s earnest. The lord of screens laughs shakily, squeezing Spamton’s thigh.

“Besides, it’ll fall out either way. There’s a lot of… me.”

Spamton feels like stretching out like a cat, but just decides to slump with a happy sound, before looking up dreamily at his television host. His hands move to rub against Tenna’s bicep, thumb flicking against both the smooth, warm metal and the soft silicone. 

"Are you okay, now, Tenns? Feeling… better?"

Tenna takes a breath to try and stop himself from trembling. His hands squeeze and massage Spamton’s soft skin. He’s dizzy, still, but it’s a good dizzy. 

“… I am,” he admits. “Thanks. For letting me play pretend for a bit. It’s not a kink, but it’s still exciting.”

"I mean, it is hot, I won't deny you that,” Spamton says with a laugh, ignoring the way that Tenna’s screen dims just slightly, “Just never really thought about it myself? Kinks can appear in mysterious ways." 

He reaches out to tap Tenna's nose, which earns Spamton a pout from the CRT.

"Okay, boss. Clean-up time."

“Aww. We can’t go another round?” Tenna asks, ass wiggling. He’s soft, but still thrush in Spamton’s cunt, jostling his sweet spots. The Addison gasps at the feeling. “We’re gonna have to replace the couch anyway…”

“I won't say no, definitely not." Spamton’s cheeks burn even more in a deepened blush.  “This couch is definitely older—"

“Good.”

Tenna grabs Spamton with one hand, then, and flips them around — presses Spamton into the couch, facedown, as his body begins to move again. He pulls out, globs of cum leaking from Spamton’s hole, and starts to stroke himself.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he promises, screen dark except for the excited smile plastering it. “I’m gonna make you a daddy.”

(Spamton will deny that he squeaked. No one can prove that.)

But, bringing a hand down to his dribbling cunt, Spamton swipes some of the cum, testing its stickiness, and promptly licks his hand clean, all with his eyes locked on Tenna's screen. Tenna shivers; leaning forward, rutting against Spamton — cock still soft, but big enough to knock against Spamton’s clit. He squeezes his lovers hips and rolls his hips, practically drooling with the effort.

“Ahahaha…”

Spamton bites his lip, gnawing on it and spreading his legs wider. It...

"Feels good, baby, fuck me," he encourages, "Fuck me good—"

“I will,” the tv darkner promises in return, squeezing Spamton’s stomach. “I will. I’m gonna. I promise. I’ll fuck you so good.” Tenna laughs again, preening at the feeling, finally starting to harden up. He strokes himself with reckless abandon, desperate to get hard enough to fuck Spamton into next week.

“Oh – Spamton, love letter…”

Spamton is, frankly, amazed by the determination this boss darkner holds. But hey, he is not complaining, not one single bit. The addison wiggles his hips a bit; Tenna grunts in return, but can’t seem to connect his cock with Spamton’s cunt. The boss darkner whines softly, rutting against the addison, the head of his dick pressing against Spamton’s clit instead.

“Oh — love letter, Spammy, baby, I love you, I love you, lemme… lemme put it in, cum inside…”

Spamton reaches down, stroking Tenna slowly. "Be patient baby, I can give you a present if you're good.”

Tenna feels the everything rush downward at that promise, and he grins. His ruts become more fast paced, more desperate. He whines, finger reaching down to probe Spamton’s hole. It’s wet and warm and waiting just for him.

“Spammmmton — a present? I get a present?” He rolls his hips again, pressing directly against Spamton’s clit. “What is it? What is it?”

Spamton swears under his breath, but keeps his grip nice and slow. "Don't jump the gun, n–now," he tries to keep his voice even —” fuck–" — but he’s quickly losing his composure. "–How'd you like two babies?"

“Two?!” Tenna gasps in surprise, in delight, and his rutting continue. The head of his dick finally connects with Spamton’s cunt; without any hesitation, Tenna pushes in, drawing a desperate moan out of his partner. “Two!” He laughs, wild, as he begins again to rut. “Two babies! All for us!! Oh, I’d love to have two little girls…”

Spamton moans, head thrown back. "O–Okay, two baby girls, yeah? I can give you— fuc–fuck–" The addisons hands scramble for purchase, and finally settle on the couch; he grips the cushion, and he does his best to not get fucked right off the thing.

“Two! And we’d love them. We’d be such good dads. You’d be such a good dad, Spammy.” Tenna’s babbling. He always babbles when he gets excited. The boss darkner laughs, unable to help himself. “Oh. They’ll be beautiful. They’ll look just like you.”

Spamton feels his breath catch; he presses a hand on Tenna's chest to try and get him to slow down. All the baby talk, it's embarrassing him; his face not just blushing from the pleasure. Tenna, however, doesn’t seem get the memo.

No — Spamton pushing him down just makes him more needy. He laughs, kissing, thrusting rapidly. He’s not there yet, not for a while, but the baby making is the most exciting part, right?

Tenna curves his fingers against Spamton’s stomach, at the slight bulge his cock makes bruising into him.

“Oh, Spammy. Spammy. My darling, sweet love letter — haha! Two girls!”

The Addison moans, loud, gasping and unable to form much of anything actually coherent. He's sure he came again already, but the intense continuing pleasure washes over everything. 

"T–Tenna-aah," He gasps out. "Y–You're— fuck me, Tenna, b–break, break—"

“Is that what you want?”

Tenna’s giddy. He’s maniacal. He’s being given too much leeway for this. Tenna grins, pressing kisses against Spamton’s shoulder blade.

“So good — you feel so good. You feel so good to me…”

Spamton’s catching his breath, feeling himself throbbing, his cunt pulsing and sucking Tenna in. He's overstimulated but it burns so bad that it feels good. So damn good.

"O–Okay, go slow, yeah?" He says eventually.

“O — oh!” That seems to pull Tenna out of it. He at least has the decency to look sheepish. He pulls out, and pushes back in slow. “R-right … i, haha. Got a little carried away, huh?”

"Just a little," Spamton deadpans in reply. Then, making a gesture for Tenna to lean close, he moves to kiss the television screen, slow and sensual, addictive static spreading down his tounge. He pulls back with a pop, saliva string connecting the two.

“It’s one of the things I like about you, though."  

Tenna’s screen heats up at their connection; Spamton can hear Tenna’s gears working in overtime. The Boss Darkner giggles, giddy, before moving in to kiss more. Spamton chuckles softly.

“Heeheehee … mine. All mine.”

"All yours, cathode." He promises, exchanging kiss upon kiss as he matches his hips with Tenna's thrusts. Tenna cradles Spamton’s face with a single hand. Giggles, screen dark again.

“All mine. Forever. My lovely, handsome love letter.”

He rests a hand on Tenna's. "Fuck me, yeah? Until I can't walk." 

Spamton is for sure going to regret saying that; he knows this, but… he wants Tenna happy.

Besides, it's hot.

Tenna laughs. He cradles Spamton’s stomach, and starts to move faster.

“But you said slow, Spamton. How am I supposed to work in these conditions!”

"I–I needed a break! Gimme some sla–aah, fuck, me." he throws his head back, spreading his legs with his hands. Tenna was moving so fast already. Angel save his poor cunt.

“Slow? Fast? I’ll be what you need, Spamton. Whatever you want.” Tenna slows down. A little. Hey, take it easy on him. He’s easily excited. “I just want to knock you up, Love letter”

Spamton moans as Tenna rolls, before finally forming an idea. "Okay. Flip over, I'll ride you." He instructs. He doesn’t need to say it twice — because Tenna immediately lifts Spamton, up off his dick, and maneuvers with his back pressing onto the couch. Slick and cum and precum all come gushing out of Spamton’s cunt in earnest; Tenna beams.

I did that, his stupidly smug face says.

“Okay,” Tenna says, positioning Spamton back onto his dick and pushing himself all the way into the Addisons cunt. “Ride me. I wanna watch you get filled up with my babies.”

Oh, this position makes it feel like Tenna’s even deeper, as if that was even possible. But, after Spamton’s settled, he places both hands on Tenna's chest for leverage, and rises up a bit, starting shallow before sheathing his cock with each bounce. Tenna laughs, watching gleefully as Spamton does the work. He rocks his hips in time to the thrusts, and his hand goes to feel the bulge of his cock inside of Spamton again. 

“I’m inside you,” he says gleefully. “You have me inside of you!”

All Spamton can do is whine, nodding. "All of you-" he hits to the base and rocks his hips for a while, the deep grind a tease. He switches his hands to lean back and rest on Tenna's legs, the angle hitting that spot with every movement. Tenna pants, gulping up air. If he had a tail, it would be wagging. He giggles and squeezes Spamton’s tummy, just for fun.

“And my babies. Our babies. We’re gonna have babies.”

Spamton can feel himself getting a bit desperate as he gets close. He's so tired but it feels good and he has that little voice in the head saying why not? why can't we have kids? that has him whining quietly, heat pooling in his cunt with each thrust.

Damn you, Tenna, and your contagious kink.

Tenna simply grins. Kisses against Spamton’s hand. Begins to shallowly thrust his hips, desperate.

“Come for me. Come, so I can fill you up. We can have babies.”

Spamton nods over and over at the begging, moaning and gasping as his stomach coils in pleasure and he feels that snap as he comes around Tenna. The tv boss Darkner’s grin only widens; grabbing Spamton, he picks up the pace — pounds into him, desperate, starving, Like a man without drink, like a tv without an outlet to plug into.

He laughs.

“Come on, Spamton. Come again. Come again —”

The Addison gasps, holding on for dear life and moaning, loud, having to cover his mouth as his stomach twists again, so soon after. He's unsure he can come again, but he knows all his body wants is Tenna.

Tenna.

Tenna — stiffens, finally, and comes again, and comes hard. He cries out, pixels on his screen glitching out, as he rocks into Spamton, filling him to the brim. Spamton practically sobs, thighs clenching, cunt milking every last bit from Tenna, body curling forward onto his chest, shaking.

Tenna laughs.

And then…….

Little sniffles start to pepper his laughter. And then more. And more. 

And then Tenna begins to cry. 

Spamton swears everything was fine only a few seconds ago. He pushes up — barely, he has a feeling that moving out of the hug would upset Tenna even more — to gaze at his television worriedly.

"Hey, hey, we're okay; what's wrong?"

“Nothing — I promise, it’s nothing.” Tenna sniffles. He smiles, that big, showman smile — the one he wears for the camera. Not the smile he saves for his mailman. “I,” he kisses against Spamton’s head, hands moving to encase the Addison as his screen pulls away, “I’m fine. I’m fine. It’s just nice to dream about.”

Spamton raises an eyebrow. "I don't think I believe you."

 He is quiet, however, at Tenna’s dream. Spamton has his reservations, but...

"Who knows," he adds, soft, "The world works in mysterious ways,"

“Haha. Yeah.” Tenna sniffs. Smiles as his screen turns on again. He looks … not as glooby as he could. He smooths Spamton’s hair out and moves to pull out of his sopping cunt. “Okay. Let’s get showered and get rid of this couch. I’ll call Ramb to order a replacement in the morning…”

Spamton feels the flush as Tenna pulls out and some deep want is for it to stay. But he can't let himself entertain that, even Tenna thumbs Spamton’s cunt; the Addison keens as more cum comes gushing out, spilling onto Tenna’s lap. He has to admit, it’s a sensation to watch. He shivers, trying to stifle his moan and keep from bringing his hips closer to Tenna. 

"You're gonna get me excited all over again, Tenns." He laughs a bit. "Shower, c'mon,"

“Sorry, sorry! Just making sure it all got out.”

Tenna laughs. He moves to set Spamton on his lap as he zips his own trousers back up, tucking his softening dick in as he does. He stands, pulling Spamton (and the whole bloody couch) up with him. Tenna single handedly walks backstage and tosses the couch in the dumpster (for someone else to deal with), and while Spamton doesn’t comment on Tenna's strength… maybe he could do something involving that at some later date.

What? It's hot! You can't blame him.

Tenna turns to face Spamton as the backlot door closes, brushing his gloves together with a job well done. “Shower in my room alright with you?”

 "Yeah, that's. That's fine,” Spamton swallows, and nods.

Tenna beams as he leads Spamton to his dressing room. The duo joke and laugh as they shower, act as if nothing as changed.

But when Tenna turns off the light, and turns off his screen… 

his heart twists.