Look, buddy, let's put YOU on the other side of this ten-year dry spell and see how quick YOU jump at the chance to finally...
Finally. It's a little surreal, maybe even too surreal if Tenna actually lets himself think on it for more than a second or two. But if he thinks too hard about why, about how any of this is happening, he'll run the risk of letting the whole thing slip right through his fingers, won't he? As if a single moment of doubt will dash the whole thing to pieces.
He's not going to let that happen.
Tenna's room, once they reach it, turns out to be every bit as finely appointed as the rest of the mansion, elegant and refined in its decor — which is to say that it's not very much at all like how Tenna kept his personal space in (or, well, the entire space of) TV World. Sure, there's plenty of color here and there (mostly red, of course, and various pieces of golden accents or trim, of course), but there's also a certain level of restraint, one made all the more obvious by its usual absence from just about anything else that Tenna has ever left his personal mark on. (His idea, or someone else's? That's anyone's best guess.)
He shuts the door, quietly, once they're both inside, and lingers there for just a moment afterward, leaning his weight back against the solid wood and trying to ignore the fact that he's already feeling a little faint.
"I, uh... Ha—" Come on, Tenna, don't screw this up now— "I don't mean to, uh, repeat myself, but... It's...been a long time. Just, uh, just so you know."
Ooh, nice place, Spamton thinks, looking around the room with a nod of approval. The colors make it stand out from the other parts of the mansion that he's seen, giving it a more masculine and opulent vibe that... frankly fits his own tastes a little better than Tenna's, probably.
He looks back to the door when he notices Tenna has stopped there, flashing a smile. "Yeah, I gotcha, no worries." It's still hot as hell to him that Tenna hasn't been with anyone else since him in all that time, so hey, if he happens to be a little rusty, Spamton's happy to take that trade off. "It's just like [take a ride around town], babe, it'll come back to you."
He comes over closer and reaches up to grab the end of Tenna's cravat and give it a little tug.
"And if it doesn't, I'll just take the wheel. All good."
"Heh... Isn't that what you usually do, anyway...?"
What you used to do, pipes up another little voice at the back of Tenna's mind. Even though, for this Spamton, there really isn't any used to about it, is there... God, no, he's going to give himself a headache if he lets himself keep thinking about it — so he leans down for a kiss instead, one hand going to Spamton's waist while the other cups the side of his face.
It's almost surprising to him, how solid Spamton feels beneath his touch. Like he still needed the reminder, despite everything, that all of this is real; like he'd already forgotten, for how faint he still feels, that this isn't some kind of dream.
(Notably, Tenna has forgotten something deeply critical to the moment at hand, swept up in it all as he is. Give him another thirty seconds or so and he will probably remember all on his own. Probably.)
That gets a chuckle out of him before his mouth is claimed by the kiss, because yeah, he's well aware that even when he isn't at the wheel he tends to be an annoying backseat driver. Makes his reassurance all the more effective though, right?
Tenna hasn't forgotten how to do this much, at least, Spamton notes with pleasure; it had taken them a few tries the first time to find an angle that worked for their noses and his screen, but they get there easily this time.
"See? Nothin' to it," he murmurs against Tenna's lips before closing his eyes and kissing back, already feeling the static in his hair and clothes as he presses closer against him.
Ten years had seemed like such an awfully long time just a few moments ago, hadn't it? And now, somehow, it's almost like no time has passed at all — the way Spamton's body slots so perfectly against him, the way he feels beneath Tenna's hands, the way he smells, the way he tastes — it's all so, so familiar, so much so that he begins to wonder how he had ever gone without, and that realization crashes over him in waves, every bit as powerful as Tenna's want, his need for him in this moment.
"I missed you," he murmurs against Spamton's lips, and he's barely able to keep the words from breaking as his voice rises into a desperate whine. "I missed you so, so much—"
Both his hands are sliding beneath Spamton's jacket now, already insatiable, already tugging at his shirt like he can't get enough because he can't get enough. Whatever voice of reason still exists inside Tenna's head at this point should probably be telling him not to rush things, to savor the moment while he can, but it seems like that voice is taking a break with the Mikes right now.
That whine — which under other circumstances he might have found grating — sends a delicious shiver down his spine this time. Oh, but all this neediness is really turning him on right now; there's no way in hell Spamton would try to get him to slow down.
"Mm... Well, I'm all yours tonight," he says breathlessly between kisses. The cravat is tugged loose and falls to the floor; then he starts to undo the buttons on Tenna's shirt and waistcoat from the collar down, with the ease of someone who's helped with a lot of quick wardrobe changes. "So gimme [everything must go!]... that you've been holding back this whole time."
"Everything—" He repeats the word mindlessly, babbling almost incoherently every moment his lips are free; Spamton may have always been the sweet talker between the two of them, especially when it's just the two of them, but that doesn't mean Tenna ever stops running his mouth unless he absolutely must, especially when it's just the two of them. Even after all this time... "Oh, Spammy— I'll give you everything— I'll—"
Likewise, Tenna's fingers are making quick work of the buttons to Spamton's shirt, stopping only to free up his hands long enough to pull his arms through either sleeve and let his own shirt, jacket, waistcoat and all drop to the floor. (Small, discolored etchings, like fine fractal lace, stretch upwards and inwards from the hard plastic encasing his shoulder joints, carving patterns of spreading frost.) At some point, whenever it's finally time to return to the party and go right back to pretending everything is normal, he's going to have to think fast for an excuse as to why he's looking more rumpled than freshly pressed...but, right now, the ability to think that far ahead is long beyond him. Yes, right now, he only has the presence of mind for his most immediate priorities, like undoing his belt and—
"Oh—"
Oh. Now he remembers.
"Oh my god." Tenna doesn't quite straighten up out of the embrace entirely, but he does lean back against the door with an audible thunk, and both his hands go to cover his face, his screen having turned bright, hot pink with mortification. "Spam, I— I forgot. There's something...really important, that I forgot to tell you..."
Spamton feels those etchings before he sees them, under his fingers as he's helping Tenna out of his shirt. Huh. What the hell happened here? It's something he'll have to ask about later, he supposes; he's curious but not interested in killing the mood when they're already this heated up, and he doubts whatever did this is going to be a pleasant memory to share.
...Though maybe the mood's gearing up to take a dive anyway? He looks up at Tenna with a raised eyebrow when he freezes up and goes pink, though he doesn't stop what he's doing himself, still moving on to unbuckle his own belt after shrugging off his jacket and shirt.
"What's up? If it's about lube I got us covered, babe, you know I'm always ready for your [21-inch display]."
He isn't exactly shrinking (he's been very good about not doing that, lately!), but he does slump a bit, sliding pathetically down the length of the door with his face still hidden in his hands. How long has it been, now? Six? Six weeks or so since Tenna first ended up in this world, and only now, only just now has he finally realized...?
"So... Um." He stops covering his face, at least for the moment, when he recognizes that he's not going to explain this very well by mumbling into his hands. "You know, when, uh, when people come here...the usual way. I-I mean, not like how you did, but how I— How, uh, most people end up here." Oh, god. "It's...real sudden, you know? As in, y-you don't really, uh, get any time to prepare for it, or, or bring anything with you... I mean, I didn't even get to keep the clothes on my back...!! So— So, what I'm saying is, I... I-I don't...have my..."
He can't do it. The vents on either side of Tenna's head are working overtime, rippling the surrounding air with entirely too much excess heat; he has to cover his face again before he continues.
"Anything. I don't...have anything. For— You know— And I didn't even think about it until— Oh, god..."
Spamton blinks; it takes him a good moment to register what Tenna's even talking about... until he remembers the, uh, [21-inch display] is an add-on and not a built-in component of the original hardware.
"Oh."
Oh boy, this really did not even cross his mind.
"Well, that's... uh."
He wipes his brow on the back of his hand; the hot air from those vents is making him sweat. It's fine, though!! He's a versatile guy, he can give it just as good as he can take it! Except... even when they did it that way, that was a detachable part too, wasn't it...
"W-what're we workin' with, then? You don't have any built-in slots or anything, right?"
Okay, Tenna, pull it together already, surely this is a problem with a solution; heck, this situation isn't even all that different from the time he left it behind at the studio, is it? (Although that particular incident was mortifying for slightly different reasons...) His hands slide from covering his face, still bright pink, to holding either side of his head as he picks through their options.
"We could... I could just — take off the, you know, the plate where everything attaches, and...?" (It's not a piece of internal anatomy that's going to be particularly easy for him to clean up later, should this be the route they choose, but he's not going to think about that right now.) "I mean, I, I don't know how good that would feel for you, but..."
Oh... well, he guesses that makes sense, actually. The spot where all those things plug in is where he's actually feeling everything when he's using them, right?
"So in with your wires, huh?"
Spamton reaches forward to touch one of the abdominal panels with the tip of his finger and starts lightly tracing down. Hm... he can't deny that it's kind of an appealing thought in its own way (logistics aside), to be let in that close.
"...Yeah, all right. If you're up for givin' it a try, so am I."
Oh, but the shiver that runs through him when Spamton touches him there... The chassis of Tenna's head is still running hot, but it's not nearly so much from embarrassment by now.
"Yes." He says it without hesitation, and his hands (which are, perhaps perplexingly, still gloved) come to rest at Spamton's waist. "Anything... If it's with you, I'll try anything."
One might wonder if Tenna would still be so eager if it weren't for the distance of time between them — if he weren't so pent up with ten years' worth of yearning... Then again, at least some part of him has probably always been like this (read: a freak), hasn't it?
"Anything, eh?" he repeats with a grin and a pleased little hum to himself. "Might regret telling me that someday."
Straightening up, he puts his own hands over the much larger ones at his waist and guides them to the front of his waistband now that his belt has joined the pile on the floor. At least one of them arrived without any missing parts, and in spite of everything, he's visibly and palpably hard under the black jacquard of his pants.
(It's nice to think about, isn't it? To let himself believe, at least in this moment, that there's still going to be a 'someday' for them.)
Tenna may not have eyes, but the way he tracks Spamton's hands moving right along with his own could not be more obvious: his screen still tinged with pink, mouth hanging slightly open, simulated breath coming in heavy pants...
"Oh, god."
He can't help himself. Tenna dives right back in to kiss Spamton again, teeth and tongue both blazing a hungry trail down from his neck to his shoulder, and he yanks that waistband down with one hand while the other reaches in to palm and grope every last inch of him. God, he missed this. He can't believe how much he missed this.
Oh! Wow, okay, that is a much more enthusiastic yes than Spamton was actually expecting (though he's sure as hell not complaining), and his cool guy act kind of goes out the window again for the moment as he has to grab onto Tenna's shoulders to steady himself.
"A-Ant, holy shit..." he stammers, his pale face flushed bright red. If he was hard before, he's like a rock now, cock jutting into that big gloved palm as his underwear grows damp from sweat and slick.
"You, uh." He swallows. "Wanna take this to the bed?" He loves a good fuck against a wall as much as anyone, but he feels like he's about to fall over.
Oh. Right. He does have a bed in here, huh. (And now he has a chance to use it for something other than fitful sleep...?!)
Right. Tenna murmurs his assent with a wordless whine against Spamton's skin, and... Well, this world might have reduced him to about half his usual height, but it still takes almost no effort at all for Tenna to hook his arms under both legs and scoop him right up off the ground. Really, the hardest part of it all is keeping his mouth off him for the long few seconds it takes to carry Spamton to his bed, and he only barely succeeds at that.
"There—" After setting Spamton down, Tenna dimly recalls that he still needs to finish taking off his belt, and he pulls it loose with one hand as he climbs in after him. There's still a whine in his voice, his desperation coming through loud and clear: "Is that better?"
Whew. Spamton pushes his hair back out of his eyes and laughs with a sort of drunken look on his face. Looks like he doesn't need to take the wheel after all, huh?
"Yeah, that's good. Jeez, makin' me weak in the knees there."
He kicks off his shoes and finishes wriggling out of the pants that are already down around his knees, peels off his socks and underwear, and then opens his arms for Tenna as he sits back wearing nothing but a watch and a gold chain necklace.
"All right, hot stuff, I'm ready for ya. Not that you need me to tell you that."
Tenna takes the opportunity to finish shucking off his pants as well, though he barely manages it for the fact that he can't take his eyes off Spamton for even a second. God, but the way he looks is so... How could he have ever forgotten this? How could he have let himself forget?
He leans in to kiss him again, every bit as hungry and desperate as before, propping his weight on one arm while the other reaches down to fumble with the clasps on the panel between his legs. "I want to hear it," he murmurs against Spamton's jaw, every word a moan as he kisses and sucks and licks his way down the length of his neck to his collarbone, his chest, down further still... "Tell me. Tell me everything..."
Not that he's actually going to wait for a response before he shifts himself down even further, far enough to finally start laving his tongue over Spamton's cock. The man just can't help himself.
"Yeah?" Spamton loosely puts his arms around Tenna's shoulders when he leans in over him to kiss him again, but shifts to let him go once he starts working his way down. Mm, damn... he stretches his arms behind his head, watching with a lazy grin and half-lidded eyes. "You can see it for yourself, can't you? H-how hard and wet you make me."
His breath hitches as Tenna moves down lower, and he has to fight to keep himself sounding even passably steady and in control. And then— fuck, suddenly that tongue's working at his cock and his back is arching into it and he has to bring a hand back to his mouth to bite down on a knuckle for a few seconds until he can get his words out again. Tell him everything... There's no way he's ever going to be able to do that, but he can at least do his best to go all out with the dirty talk.
"Seein' you go from... clean and [fun for the whole family] with everyone else, to a needy slut with me... it's so fuckin' hot." He reaches down to lightly fondle the ball at the end of one of those bobbing antennae. "You look so good between my legs like this. With my cock in your mouth... knowing... how bad you've been cravin' it."
He turns his head a little to get a better view of the panel that's being removed, still idly stroking the end of the antenna in his hand.
"You've been so good, waitin' for me. Gonna... get in your wires and fuck you so deep..."
Spamton's hand touches his antenna, and the sound that issues forth from Tenna's speakers is utterly obscene: a high-pitched, keening moan, and maybe a little too loud before he belatedly, hurriedly thinks to dial down his volume. It's all so much, almost too much, enough for his entire body to start building a static charge, between the way Spamton touches him, the way he talks to him, the taste and feel of him in his mouth... Tenna can barely hold himself up at this point, his back arching sharply and his limbs shaking from the effort, but he holds fast regardless, closes his lips around Spamton's cock and sucks down his length before pulling off him with a soft, wet noise.
"Please—" Ugh, no, now he's too quiet; back up goes the dial, like he's struggling with the audio on a poorly-mixed action movie. "Please..."
There, that's better. The panel finally comes undone and Tenna tosses it haphazardly to one side, his hand now taking up the task of teasing apart tight bundles of wires, all the better to ease the way; his other hand starts to work over Spamton's cock, which conveniently leaves his mouth free to slide the flat of his tongue over his cloaca.
"I've been waiting... So long..." Hot air gusts from his vents, from his open mouth, as he laps and licks him apart between more of those high-pitched, wanting, whimpering moans. "Please... Spammy, please, I missed you, I need you..."
The attention to his cock alone had already been making it hard for Spamton to keep acting suave, but that desperate, overeager tongue licking and slipping inside him at the same time, all while watching Tenna finger his wires, listening to those lewd noises and feeling the rising heat and the tingling of electricity... god damn, this is on a different level from their usual. He has to drop his hold on the antenna before the building static shocks him and he accidentally yanks on the thing.
"I'm—mmmmm..." A moan gets out before he can stifle it this time — not that he gives a shit about anyone hearing what he's doing, he's just trying to be cool and in-control here and this is making the act a lot less convincing. "Ffffuck, Ant, you're so... god damn..." He grasps at the sheets at his side, digging his fingers into the fabric as his toes curl and his legs spread open wider in spite of himself. "You're gonna make me c...cum before I even get to put it in you, y'know?"
Were the circumstances even slightly different, Tenna might well have taken that as a challenge: to push Spamton past his limits and then some, to take everything that he has to give and more, again and again and again until he can't move, can't speak, can't even think beyond how badly he needs, needs him, again, again, again...
But they only have so much time, don't they? Before they both have to go back; before all of this has to come to an end.
So he relents, instead; he laps at Spamton one last time, drawing out the slow, deliberate motion of his tongue for as long as he can bear, and then he's shifting his weight to push himself upright, to lean back and spread his legs wide, one hand still fingering himself open while the other twists into the sheets with a clawed grip.
"Please," he repeats with another moan, his voice hitching as any and all thoughts of managing his volume completely leave him. "I want it— I need it, in me... I, I need you to cum inside me, please..."
(As soon as a few hours from now, it must be noted, Tenna is going to come to deeply, deeply regret making this particular demand. Of course, he isn't remotely capable of thinking that far ahead right now, or even briefly considering how much he's going to struggle with cleaning everything up in there.)
Fuck, those words alone are almost enough to push him over the edge. If this weren't a limited time event, Spamton would gladly go a few more rounds himself to keep basking in this feeling of being needed and wanted and appreciated — being important for something simpler and more real than his precarious status as a successful businessman. It's a better high than he's ever gotten from any drug.
He pushes himself up off his back onto his knees, pushes his now sweaty and uncoiffed hair back out of his flushed face again, and moves over to position himself between Tenna's spread legs, resting a hand on his thigh and taking a second to appreciate the closer view as his breaths come hot and heavy.
Mmm, he is definitely thinking about how hard it's going to be to completely clean him out of that mess of wires, and he loves that thought. Gonna be finding traces of him for weeks. He licks his lips and grins, running a finger along the edge of the opened panel without much delicacy.
"Nothin' I want more, baby... Gonna fill you up with everything I've got."
His hand brushes over the wires as it moves to the spot Tenna's been opening up so he can take over and slip in a finger of his own.
It's a different feeling, being touched so directly like this without the aid of any artificial intermediary to translate the sensation, to better approximate the real thing. It's wholly different...but no less intense for all that difference, not in the least, and the feeling of Spamton's hand touching him, inside him, is so visceral, so immediate, that it's all Tenna can do to lean back on his hands with a high-pitched whine.
"Ah... R-Right there..." He shifts his legs out from under himself, hitches up his knees so he can spread even wider for Spamton, so he can push his hips directly into that probing touch, and does absolutely everything in his power to keep himself from just hooking a leg around Spamton entirely and yanking him in even closer. "Spammy, please, please, fill me up, please..."
That whine sends a shiver through him, making his cock throb. Damn, he figured this spot would be sensitive, but he didn't know it'd be this intense.
"Look at you... a-askin' so nicely." Spamton slips another finger inside, deeper now, stroking along the length of the inner wires near the opening and getting in between them, both to get a better feel for what he's working with and to elicit more of those hot as fuck reactions. "And... lookin' so pretty for me..."
After a moment he pulls his fingers out — making a little show of licking them even though there's nothing to lick off — and gets himself ready, reaching down between his own legs to get some of that slick wetness on his fingers and smear it over his cock.
"All right," he says, voice slightly strained as he gets into position and lines himself up with the opening. "Here goes." Holding onto Tenna's hips, he pushes inside with a little grunt, feeling his hair standing more on end now that he's closer to the source of the electricity.
Tenna bites down on his lip when Spamton touches him, keeps touching him there, as though it might stop his voice from peaking with every little gasp and whine that those fingers pull from him — and it does, somehow. Right up until Spamton pushes into him with his cock.
"Ohhh, god—!!"
It's so intense, so immediate, so direct, so raw, so unbelievably intimate that he has to cut his volume entirely for a moment, before he totally loses control. They've barely gotten started and here he is, already approaching the edge of overstimulation.
"F-Feels... Oh, god, Spam, it f-feels like..." Through the haze of it all, he can only think of one thing to say: "Like— why... Like why didn't we try this...any sooner...!?"
Holy shit. Spamton laughs, softer and breathier than his usual obnoxious cackle, pleased and a little incredulous at the intensity of the response. Well, that's certainly an answer.
"That good, huh?" He rocks his hips lightly, taking a moment to just explore and get them both adjusted. "Ain't... [half off] bad for me either."
It's not great from a physical standpoint, if he's honest; sticking your dick in a bundle of dry wires is a far cry from putting it in something pliant and wet, no matter how you look at it. But the intimacy of it, the electricity, and being able to make Tenna react like this — now, that he's into. So, yeah, he wouldn't mind switching it up and doing this every once in a while. Maybe just often enough to make sure he'd never manage to get cleaned out all the way. Make that shit into a Sisyphean effort.
He pulls out slowly, almost all the way to the tip, all to make Tenna want it even more when he thrusts back in. When he does, it's a lot less tentative than his initial entrance, and... oh, he doesn't hate the ribbed texture of all those wires against him when he moves, actually.
"It's— fuck, it's hot... bein' inside you for [real diamonds] like this."
Each adjustment, each slight movement Spamton inside him makes elicits another gasp, another soft sound, and it takes every bit of concentration, every last bit of restraint Tenna still has in him to keep this from ending any sooner than it absolutely must. How long has it been, now? He can't even remember — ten long years, at least, but even beyond that — how long has it been since he last felt like this?
"Y-You're... Oh, Spam..." Between everything else, between adjusting with Spamton, hitching a leg around him and tilting his hips so he can angle even deeper inside, Tenna has hardly any focus left to spare on stringing one word to another — but he does it anyway, because when is Tenna ever not running his mouth? "You're s-so good, you feel s-so, god, so... Ahh, I, I can't believe I've n-never, never felt you like—"
One good thrust, it turns out, is all it takes for that mouth to stop running, at least for a moment. Tenna's head rolls back with a loud, obscene moan, and he claps a hand to his mouth as though it might somehow stop any further sound from escaping him.
"There," he whimpers from beneath his hand, which really isn't doing much of anything at all to muffle his voice, but he can't seem to stop himself from trying regardless. "Th-There, right— Right there, oh, Spammy, again, please..."
As far as Spamton's concerned, Tenna can run his mouth as much as he wants, because he's loving every word that's coming out of it right now — not that he doesn't love the sounds that aren't words, too; hearing a moan like that and knowing he's the one that caused it is enough to make him crazy.
"Ha... you got it, babe," he breathes, bending down to kiss Tenna's stomach (and undoubtedly poking him with his nose in the process). "A-anything for you."
He's almost surprised by how much he thinks he means that. Anything but that fucking contract.
He straightens back up, starts to pull out again, and then thrusts back in at what he thinks is about the same angle, faster and with more force than before, barely choking back a moan himself at the way the wires squeeze around him and the static builds as he gets deeper. God.
"Mm— tell me again." Another slide out and a thrust back in, starting to fall into a rhythm. "H-how much you want my cum in you." Out and in. "How I'm the only one you... you want fillin' you up inside." How much you want me, how I'm the only one you want.
There's the slightest of jolts, a reflexive twitch when Spamton kisses him there, and Tenna whines, because, god, oh, god why can't he just kiss him right now—
But it feels too good, the way Spamton is fucking him, to even think for a moment about asking him to stop, or even to change what he's doing, even if just for a moment... He wants it all; he just can't help himself. Tenna wants all of it, in every way possible; he wants all of him, in every way imaginable.
"You're... You're the only one..." The desperation in his voice is reaching a fever pitch as he grasps at Spamton, grasps at whatever parts of him he can reach, his hair, his face, his shoulder, anything. "The only... It's only ever been you... It's always been you, Spammy, you're, god, the only one— The only one I've ever— I— Oh, Spam—"
He's close, now, but still holding on, still holding himself back from the overflow, still desperate not to let this end, not yet. Not yet.
Ohhhh, god, he loves hearing that. There had been times in the past when those big hands had held onto him tight like this that he'd felt anxious and almost suffocated; but in this context — knowing it's not about control, but about someone actually wanting him to stick around — Spamton can't get enough of it.
"Y-yeah, that's— that's what I like to hear," he says through ragged breaths as he thrusts harder and faster, his mind getting hazier by the second. "You're— god, you're it for me too. Only one I... wanna..."
The only one he wants to be inside of, the only one he wants inside of him, the only partner he needs. But his head is swimming too much for him to string any more words together, and with the shudder that runs through him as Tenna grasps at the roots of his messy, static-charged hair, he loses whatever shreds of coherency he might have had left, his rhythm becoming much more erratic.
"Fuck, Ant, I-I'm gonna—"
It's all he manages to get out before he finally tenses up and then releases, hands still gripping Tenna's hips with as much strength as he can manage to keep himself deep inside as his own hips jerk and he empties into him. His vision is nothing but white stars, and all he's focused on is pumping every drop he has into his partner to fill up that space inside.
Already, it was all so intense, the raw sensation alone of Spamton fucking into him so closely, but that intensity has only been mounting with each thrust, each sound that Spamton makes, the feeling of him under his hands, so close he can touch him again, so close, so close again... It ratchets higher, even higher, higher than ever before until it finally reaches his zenith, and what finally pushes him over the edge is the sudden shock of realization, the unbelievably uncanny sensation of Spamton spilling inside his wires.
"Fuck—!!"
Each and every one of Tenna's joints tense and lock into place — his leg pulling Spamton in even more tightly against him, his one hand twisting in Spamton's hair while the other claws at the bedspread — and his hips and back arch off the bed entirely as he comes, harder than he has in ten years or more, harder than he even thought was still possible for him, excess electricity sparking and discharging from his antennae.
He gasps for air he doesn't actually need, almost certainly making sounds that are entirely too loud, but he can't bring himself to care, not now. Fuck, how could he begin to care about anything except how he feels in this moment? About the crests of intensity that are still washing over him, over and again with each little aftershock until, finally, at last, he starts to come down from it all.
"Oh... Spammy... That was..."
His head is venting so much heat that it's practically visible in the rippling air, so it only follows that, right now, he can barely manage to string two words together. at this rate, he probably won't be able to manage it for a good while yet.
Holy shit; Spamton thinks pretty highly of himself in this department already, but this is the first time he can remember making Tenna come like this, and everything about it is utterly intoxicating. Even with the size difference less than it usually is, Tenna's still so much bigger and stronger than him that he's completely at his mercy at moments like this, getting jerked around along with the TV's own movements.
Once they're done riding it out, he finally pulls out and releases his grip on Tenna's hips, and sits back on his knees as he tries to catch his breath in the hot and electric air surrounding them.
"Haahh..." He rests his arm against his forehead with a smile on his face, panting and looking thoroughly satisfied. Fuck, that was good, wires and all. Speaking of which... He inclines his head slightly to look down at the open panel, at the now messy wires and the little stream of cum that trickles out from inside with the stopper gone. Fuckin' hot as hell, he thinks, dropping his arm from his head to sloppily wipe up whatever got on the outside. God damn.
As his mind slowly starts to come out of its haze (during which he has the vague drunken thought that maybe he'll just fucking ask the guy to marry him when he goes back to the studio; how's that for a contract?), he glances over the edge of the bed to where his clothes are tossed on the floor, considering grabbing a cigarette out of his pocket; but as spent as he is right now, he thinks he might fall off the bed if he tried to reach for his jacket. Instead, he just crawls around to Tenna's side and flops down next to him, flushed and grinning with his hair standing comically on end. He lazily holds his hand up to Tenna's lips, assuming he'll be happy to get a taste.
It sure was something, so much so that whatever small part of Tenna's mind is still capable of logical thought still wonders why the hell they never tried anything like this sooner. Before...well, everything.
Then again, would this have been half so intense (half so meaningful) if it weren't for the distance of ten years between them?
He doesn't want to think about that.
The way he rolls onto his side when Spamton crawls up next to him is nearly automatic, as is the way he wraps both arms around Spamton and pulls him close. Tenna's lips part pliantly, tongue swiping and mouth sucking greedily at those fingers — greedily, but without the same urgency as before. He's no spring chicken; he needs some lead time to work back up to that level of enthusiasm.
If only they had that kind of time.
"I missed this," he murmurs, low, soft. The smell of sex and ozone and Spamton pressed so, so close against him, the feeling of his body, the sound of his voice — Tenna is doing everything he can to recommit it all to memory, to cast an imprint so deep that no level of anger of resentment could possibly overshadow it. "I... I missed you..."
He doesn't want to let go. But he's not going to have a choice, is he?
The grin fades at that. He's been loving hearing it this whole time — kind of getting off on it, even — but now that he's coming back down from his high and they're closer to wrapping this all up...
"Mm." He still doesn't really know what he's supposed to say. It's not like he can just shoot back the obvious return line of I missed you too when from his point of view they've never parted ways, and he still doesn't like the idea of apologizing for something he hasn't personally done.
So he doesn't say anything for a moment and just relaxes in the embrace, which feels much more intimate than any of the times they've done this before. He runs his hand along Tenna's casing, thumb lightly brushing over the edge of his screen, fuzzy with static.
When he does eventually speak up, it's softer, without much of his usual abrasive and self-assured affectation.
"You ever find the me that left... tell that to him, all right? I don't..." He pauses, looking off to the side as his brow furrows slightly. He's never been the kind of guy to open up about his feelings (even to admit them to himself) unless he's had too much to drink, so he's struggling with this. "I don't think he knew you cared that much. Me and him, we're not really the type most people like to keep around if we're not raking in profits, y'know?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gala night, continued
Look, buddy, let's put YOU on the other side of this ten-year dry spell and see how quick YOU jump at the chance to finally...
Finally. It's a little surreal, maybe even too surreal if Tenna actually lets himself think on it for more than a second or two. But if he thinks too hard about why, about how any of this is happening, he'll run the risk of letting the whole thing slip right through his fingers, won't he? As if a single moment of doubt will dash the whole thing to pieces.
He's not going to let that happen.
Tenna's room, once they reach it, turns out to be every bit as finely appointed as the rest of the mansion, elegant and refined in its decor — which is to say that it's not very much at all like how Tenna kept his personal space in (or, well, the entire space of) TV World. Sure, there's plenty of color here and there (mostly red, of course, and various pieces of golden accents or trim, of course), but there's also a certain level of restraint, one made all the more obvious by its usual absence from just about anything else that Tenna has ever left his personal mark on. (His idea, or someone else's? That's anyone's best guess.)
He shuts the door, quietly, once they're both inside, and lingers there for just a moment afterward, leaning his weight back against the solid wood and trying to ignore the fact that he's already feeling a little faint.
"I, uh... Ha—" Come on, Tenna, don't screw this up now— "I don't mean to, uh, repeat myself, but... It's...been a long time. Just, uh, just so you know."
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He looks back to the door when he notices Tenna has stopped there, flashing a smile. "Yeah, I gotcha, no worries." It's still hot as hell to him that Tenna hasn't been with anyone else since him in all that time, so hey, if he happens to be a little rusty, Spamton's happy to take that trade off. "It's just like [take a ride around town], babe, it'll come back to you."
He comes over closer and reaches up to grab the end of Tenna's cravat and give it a little tug.
"And if it doesn't, I'll just take the wheel. All good."
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What you used to do, pipes up another little voice at the back of Tenna's mind. Even though, for this Spamton, there really isn't any used to about it, is there... God, no, he's going to give himself a headache if he lets himself keep thinking about it — so he leans down for a kiss instead, one hand going to Spamton's waist while the other cups the side of his face.
It's almost surprising to him, how solid Spamton feels beneath his touch. Like he still needed the reminder, despite everything, that all of this is real; like he'd already forgotten, for how faint he still feels, that this isn't some kind of dream.
(Notably, Tenna has forgotten something deeply critical to the moment at hand, swept up in it all as he is. Give him another thirty seconds or so and he will probably remember all on his own. Probably.)
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Tenna hasn't forgotten how to do this much, at least, Spamton notes with pleasure; it had taken them a few tries the first time to find an angle that worked for their noses and his screen, but they get there easily this time.
"See? Nothin' to it," he murmurs against Tenna's lips before closing his eyes and kissing back, already feeling the static in his hair and clothes as he presses closer against him.
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"I missed you," he murmurs against Spamton's lips, and he's barely able to keep the words from breaking as his voice rises into a desperate whine. "I missed you so, so much—"
Both his hands are sliding beneath Spamton's jacket now, already insatiable, already tugging at his shirt like he can't get enough because he can't get enough. Whatever voice of reason still exists inside Tenna's head at this point should probably be telling him not to rush things, to savor the moment while he can, but it seems like that voice is taking a break with the Mikes right now.
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"Mm... Well, I'm all yours tonight," he says breathlessly between kisses. The cravat is tugged loose and falls to the floor; then he starts to undo the buttons on Tenna's shirt and waistcoat from the collar down, with the ease of someone who's helped with a lot of quick wardrobe changes. "So gimme [everything must go!]... that you've been holding back this whole time."
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Likewise, Tenna's fingers are making quick work of the buttons to Spamton's shirt, stopping only to free up his hands long enough to pull his arms through either sleeve and let his own shirt, jacket, waistcoat and all drop to the floor. (Small, discolored etchings, like fine fractal lace, stretch upwards and inwards from the hard plastic encasing his shoulder joints, carving patterns of spreading frost.) At some point, whenever it's finally time to return to the party and go right back to pretending everything is normal, he's going to have to think fast for an excuse as to why he's looking more rumpled than freshly pressed...but, right now, the ability to think that far ahead is long beyond him. Yes, right now, he only has the presence of mind for his most immediate priorities, like undoing his belt and—
"Oh—"
Oh. Now he remembers.
"Oh my god." Tenna doesn't quite straighten up out of the embrace entirely, but he does lean back against the door with an audible thunk, and both his hands go to cover his face, his screen having turned bright, hot pink with mortification. "Spam, I— I forgot. There's something...really important, that I forgot to tell you..."
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...Though maybe the mood's gearing up to take a dive anyway? He looks up at Tenna with a raised eyebrow when he freezes up and goes pink, though he doesn't stop what he's doing himself, still moving on to unbuckle his own belt after shrugging off his jacket and shirt.
"What's up? If it's about lube I got us covered, babe, you know I'm always ready for your [21-inch display]."
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He isn't exactly shrinking (he's been very good about not doing that, lately!), but he does slump a bit, sliding pathetically down the length of the door with his face still hidden in his hands. How long has it been, now? Six? Six weeks or so since Tenna first ended up in this world, and only now, only just now has he finally realized...?
"So... Um." He stops covering his face, at least for the moment, when he recognizes that he's not going to explain this very well by mumbling into his hands. "You know, when, uh, when people come here...the usual way. I-I mean, not like how you did, but how I— How, uh, most people end up here." Oh, god. "It's...real sudden, you know? As in, y-you don't really, uh, get any time to prepare for it, or, or bring anything with you... I mean, I didn't even get to keep the clothes on my back...!! So— So, what I'm saying is, I... I-I don't...have my..."
He can't do it. The vents on either side of Tenna's head are working overtime, rippling the surrounding air with entirely too much excess heat; he has to cover his face again before he continues.
"Anything. I don't...have anything. For— You know— And I didn't even think about it until— Oh, god..."
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"Oh."
Oh boy, this really did not even cross his mind.
"Well, that's... uh."
He wipes his brow on the back of his hand; the hot air from those vents is making him sweat. It's fine, though!! He's a versatile guy, he can give it just as good as he can take it! Except... even when they did it that way, that was a detachable part too, wasn't it...
"W-what're we workin' with, then? You don't have any built-in slots or anything, right?"
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Okay, Tenna, pull it together already, surely this is a problem with a solution; heck, this situation isn't even all that different from the time he left it behind at the studio, is it? (Although that particular incident was mortifying for slightly different reasons...) His hands slide from covering his face, still bright pink, to holding either side of his head as he picks through their options.
"We could... I could just — take off the, you know, the plate where everything attaches, and...?" (It's not a piece of internal anatomy that's going to be particularly easy for him to clean up later, should this be the route they choose, but he's not going to think about that right now.) "I mean, I, I don't know how good that would feel for you, but..."
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"So in with your wires, huh?"
Spamton reaches forward to touch one of the abdominal panels with the tip of his finger and starts lightly tracing down. Hm... he can't deny that it's kind of an appealing thought in its own way (logistics aside), to be let in that close.
"...Yeah, all right. If you're up for givin' it a try, so am I."
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"Yes." He says it without hesitation, and his hands (which are, perhaps perplexingly, still gloved) come to rest at Spamton's waist. "Anything... If it's with you, I'll try anything."
One might wonder if Tenna would still be so eager if it weren't for the distance of time between them — if he weren't so pent up with ten years' worth of yearning... Then again, at least some part of him has probably always been like this (read: a freak), hasn't it?
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Straightening up, he puts his own hands over the much larger ones at his waist and guides them to the front of his waistband now that his belt has joined the pile on the floor. At least one of them arrived without any missing parts, and in spite of everything, he's visibly and palpably hard under the black jacquard of his pants.
"You miss this too?"
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Tenna may not have eyes, but the way he tracks Spamton's hands moving right along with his own could not be more obvious: his screen still tinged with pink, mouth hanging slightly open, simulated breath coming in heavy pants...
"Oh, god."
He can't help himself. Tenna dives right back in to kiss Spamton again, teeth and tongue both blazing a hungry trail down from his neck to his shoulder, and he yanks that waistband down with one hand while the other reaches in to palm and grope every last inch of him. God, he missed this. He can't believe how much he missed this.
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"A-Ant, holy shit..." he stammers, his pale face flushed bright red. If he was hard before, he's like a rock now, cock jutting into that big gloved palm as his underwear grows damp from sweat and slick.
"You, uh." He swallows. "Wanna take this to the bed?" He loves a good fuck against a wall as much as anyone, but he feels like he's about to fall over.
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Right. Tenna murmurs his assent with a wordless whine against Spamton's skin, and... Well, this world might have reduced him to about half his usual height, but it still takes almost no effort at all for Tenna to hook his arms under both legs and scoop him right up off the ground. Really, the hardest part of it all is keeping his mouth off him for the long few seconds it takes to carry Spamton to his bed, and he only barely succeeds at that.
"There—" After setting Spamton down, Tenna dimly recalls that he still needs to finish taking off his belt, and he pulls it loose with one hand as he climbs in after him. There's still a whine in his voice, his desperation coming through loud and clear: "Is that better?"
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"Yeah, that's good. Jeez, makin' me weak in the knees there."
He kicks off his shoes and finishes wriggling out of the pants that are already down around his knees, peels off his socks and underwear, and then opens his arms for Tenna as he sits back wearing nothing but a watch and a gold chain necklace.
"All right, hot stuff, I'm ready for ya. Not that you need me to tell you that."
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He leans in to kiss him again, every bit as hungry and desperate as before, propping his weight on one arm while the other reaches down to fumble with the clasps on the panel between his legs. "I want to hear it," he murmurs against Spamton's jaw, every word a moan as he kisses and sucks and licks his way down the length of his neck to his collarbone, his chest, down further still... "Tell me. Tell me everything..."
Not that he's actually going to wait for a response before he shifts himself down even further, far enough to finally start laving his tongue over Spamton's cock. The man just can't help himself.
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His breath hitches as Tenna moves down lower, and he has to fight to keep himself sounding even passably steady and in control. And then— fuck, suddenly that tongue's working at his cock and his back is arching into it and he has to bring a hand back to his mouth to bite down on a knuckle for a few seconds until he can get his words out again. Tell him everything... There's no way he's ever going to be able to do that, but he can at least do his best to go all out with the dirty talk.
"Seein' you go from... clean and [fun for the whole family] with everyone else, to a needy slut with me... it's so fuckin' hot." He reaches down to lightly fondle the ball at the end of one of those bobbing antennae. "You look so good between my legs like this. With my cock in your mouth... knowing... how bad you've been cravin' it."
He turns his head a little to get a better view of the panel that's being removed, still idly stroking the end of the antenna in his hand.
"You've been so good, waitin' for me. Gonna... get in your wires and fuck you so deep..."
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"Please—" Ugh, no, now he's too quiet; back up goes the dial, like he's struggling with the audio on a poorly-mixed action movie. "Please..."
There, that's better. The panel finally comes undone and Tenna tosses it haphazardly to one side, his hand now taking up the task of teasing apart tight bundles of wires, all the better to ease the way; his other hand starts to work over Spamton's cock, which conveniently leaves his mouth free to slide the flat of his tongue over his cloaca.
"I've been waiting... So long..." Hot air gusts from his vents, from his open mouth, as he laps and licks him apart between more of those high-pitched, wanting, whimpering moans. "Please... Spammy, please, I missed you, I need you..."
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The attention to his cock alone had already been making it hard for Spamton to keep acting suave, but that desperate, overeager tongue licking and slipping inside him at the same time, all while watching Tenna finger his wires, listening to those lewd noises and feeling the rising heat and the tingling of electricity... god damn, this is on a different level from their usual. He has to drop his hold on the antenna before the building static shocks him and he accidentally yanks on the thing.
"I'm—mmmmm..." A moan gets out before he can stifle it this time — not that he gives a shit about anyone hearing what he's doing, he's just trying to be cool and in-control here and this is making the act a lot less convincing. "Ffffuck, Ant, you're so... god damn..." He grasps at the sheets at his side, digging his fingers into the fabric as his toes curl and his legs spread open wider in spite of himself. "You're gonna make me c...cum before I even get to put it in you, y'know?"
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But they only have so much time, don't they? Before they both have to go back; before all of this has to come to an end.
So he relents, instead; he laps at Spamton one last time, drawing out the slow, deliberate motion of his tongue for as long as he can bear, and then he's shifting his weight to push himself upright, to lean back and spread his legs wide, one hand still fingering himself open while the other twists into the sheets with a clawed grip.
"Please," he repeats with another moan, his voice hitching as any and all thoughts of managing his volume completely leave him. "I want it— I need it, in me... I, I need you to cum inside me, please..."
(As soon as a few hours from now, it must be noted, Tenna is going to come to deeply, deeply regret making this particular demand. Of course, he isn't remotely capable of thinking that far ahead right now, or even briefly considering how much he's going to struggle with cleaning everything up in there.)
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He pushes himself up off his back onto his knees, pushes his now sweaty and uncoiffed hair back out of his flushed face again, and moves over to position himself between Tenna's spread legs, resting a hand on his thigh and taking a second to appreciate the closer view as his breaths come hot and heavy.
Mmm, he is definitely thinking about how hard it's going to be to completely clean him out of that mess of wires, and he loves that thought. Gonna be finding traces of him for weeks. He licks his lips and grins, running a finger along the edge of the opened panel without much delicacy.
"Nothin' I want more, baby... Gonna fill you up with everything I've got."
His hand brushes over the wires as it moves to the spot Tenna's been opening up so he can take over and slip in a finger of his own.
"Right here?"
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It's a different feeling, being touched so directly like this without the aid of any artificial intermediary to translate the sensation, to better approximate the real thing. It's wholly different...but no less intense for all that difference, not in the least, and the feeling of Spamton's hand touching him, inside him, is so visceral, so immediate, that it's all Tenna can do to lean back on his hands with a high-pitched whine.
"Ah... R-Right there..." He shifts his legs out from under himself, hitches up his knees so he can spread even wider for Spamton, so he can push his hips directly into that probing touch, and does absolutely everything in his power to keep himself from just hooking a leg around Spamton entirely and yanking him in even closer. "Spammy, please, please, fill me up, please..."
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"Look at you... a-askin' so nicely." Spamton slips another finger inside, deeper now, stroking along the length of the inner wires near the opening and getting in between them, both to get a better feel for what he's working with and to elicit more of those hot as fuck reactions. "And... lookin' so pretty for me..."
After a moment he pulls his fingers out — making a little show of licking them even though there's nothing to lick off — and gets himself ready, reaching down between his own legs to get some of that slick wetness on his fingers and smear it over his cock.
"All right," he says, voice slightly strained as he gets into position and lines himself up with the opening. "Here goes." Holding onto Tenna's hips, he pushes inside with a little grunt, feeling his hair standing more on end now that he's closer to the source of the electricity.
"H-how's it feel?"
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"Ohhh, god—!!"
It's so intense, so immediate, so direct, so raw, so unbelievably intimate that he has to cut his volume entirely for a moment, before he totally loses control. They've barely gotten started and here he is, already approaching the edge of overstimulation.
"F-Feels... Oh, god, Spam, it f-feels like..." Through the haze of it all, he can only think of one thing to say: "Like— why... Like why didn't we try this...any sooner...!?"
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"That good, huh?" He rocks his hips lightly, taking a moment to just explore and get them both adjusted. "Ain't... [half off] bad for me either."
It's not great from a physical standpoint, if he's honest; sticking your dick in a bundle of dry wires is a far cry from putting it in something pliant and wet, no matter how you look at it. But the intimacy of it, the electricity, and being able to make Tenna react like this — now, that he's into. So, yeah, he wouldn't mind switching it up and doing this every once in a while. Maybe just often enough to make sure he'd never manage to get cleaned out all the way. Make that shit into a Sisyphean effort.
He pulls out slowly, almost all the way to the tip, all to make Tenna want it even more when he thrusts back in. When he does, it's a lot less tentative than his initial entrance, and... oh, he doesn't hate the ribbed texture of all those wires against him when he moves, actually.
"It's— fuck, it's hot... bein' inside you for [real diamonds] like this."
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"Y-You're... Oh, Spam..." Between everything else, between adjusting with Spamton, hitching a leg around him and tilting his hips so he can angle even deeper inside, Tenna has hardly any focus left to spare on stringing one word to another — but he does it anyway, because when is Tenna ever not running his mouth? "You're s-so good, you feel s-so, god, so... Ahh, I, I can't believe I've n-never, never felt you like—"
One good thrust, it turns out, is all it takes for that mouth to stop running, at least for a moment. Tenna's head rolls back with a loud, obscene moan, and he claps a hand to his mouth as though it might somehow stop any further sound from escaping him.
"There," he whimpers from beneath his hand, which really isn't doing much of anything at all to muffle his voice, but he can't seem to stop himself from trying regardless. "Th-There, right— Right there, oh, Spammy, again, please..."
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"Ha... you got it, babe," he breathes, bending down to kiss Tenna's stomach (and undoubtedly poking him with his nose in the process). "A-anything for you."
He's almost surprised by how much he thinks he means that. Anything but that fucking contract.
He straightens back up, starts to pull out again, and then thrusts back in at what he thinks is about the same angle, faster and with more force than before, barely choking back a moan himself at the way the wires squeeze around him and the static builds as he gets deeper. God.
"Mm— tell me again." Another slide out and a thrust back in, starting to fall into a rhythm. "H-how much you want my cum in you." Out and in. "How I'm the only one you... you want fillin' you up inside." How much you want me, how I'm the only one you want.
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But it feels too good, the way Spamton is fucking him, to even think for a moment about asking him to stop, or even to change what he's doing, even if just for a moment... He wants it all; he just can't help himself. Tenna wants all of it, in every way possible; he wants all of him, in every way imaginable.
"You're... You're the only one..." The desperation in his voice is reaching a fever pitch as he grasps at Spamton, grasps at whatever parts of him he can reach, his hair, his face, his shoulder, anything. "The only... It's only ever been you... It's always been you, Spammy, you're, god, the only one— The only one I've ever— I— Oh, Spam—"
He's close, now, but still holding on, still holding himself back from the overflow, still desperate not to let this end, not yet. Not yet.
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"Y-yeah, that's— that's what I like to hear," he says through ragged breaths as he thrusts harder and faster, his mind getting hazier by the second. "You're— god, you're it for me too. Only one I... wanna..."
The only one he wants to be inside of, the only one he wants inside of him, the only partner he needs. But his head is swimming too much for him to string any more words together, and with the shudder that runs through him as Tenna grasps at the roots of his messy, static-charged hair, he loses whatever shreds of coherency he might have had left, his rhythm becoming much more erratic.
"Fuck, Ant, I-I'm gonna—"
It's all he manages to get out before he finally tenses up and then releases, hands still gripping Tenna's hips with as much strength as he can manage to keep himself deep inside as his own hips jerk and he empties into him. His vision is nothing but white stars, and all he's focused on is pumping every drop he has into his partner to fill up that space inside.
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Already, it was all so intense, the raw sensation alone of Spamton fucking into him so closely, but that intensity has only been mounting with each thrust, each sound that Spamton makes, the feeling of him under his hands, so close he can touch him again, so close, so close again... It ratchets higher, even higher, higher than ever before until it finally reaches his zenith, and what finally pushes him over the edge is the sudden shock of realization, the unbelievably uncanny sensation of Spamton spilling inside his wires.
"Fuck—!!"
Each and every one of Tenna's joints tense and lock into place — his leg pulling Spamton in even more tightly against him, his one hand twisting in Spamton's hair while the other claws at the bedspread — and his hips and back arch off the bed entirely as he comes, harder than he has in ten years or more, harder than he even thought was still possible for him, excess electricity sparking and discharging from his antennae.
He gasps for air he doesn't actually need, almost certainly making sounds that are entirely too loud, but he can't bring himself to care, not now. Fuck, how could he begin to care about anything except how he feels in this moment? About the crests of intensity that are still washing over him, over and again with each little aftershock until, finally, at last, he starts to come down from it all.
"Oh... Spammy... That was..."
His head is venting so much heat that it's practically visible in the rippling air, so it only follows that, right now, he can barely manage to string two words together. at this rate, he probably won't be able to manage it for a good while yet.
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Once they're done riding it out, he finally pulls out and releases his grip on Tenna's hips, and sits back on his knees as he tries to catch his breath in the hot and electric air surrounding them.
"Haahh..." He rests his arm against his forehead with a smile on his face, panting and looking thoroughly satisfied. Fuck, that was good, wires and all. Speaking of which... He inclines his head slightly to look down at the open panel, at the now messy wires and the little stream of cum that trickles out from inside with the stopper gone. Fuckin' hot as hell, he thinks, dropping his arm from his head to sloppily wipe up whatever got on the outside. God damn.
As his mind slowly starts to come out of its haze (during which he has the vague drunken thought that maybe he'll just fucking ask the guy to marry him when he goes back to the studio; how's that for a contract?), he glances over the edge of the bed to where his clothes are tossed on the floor, considering grabbing a cigarette out of his pocket; but as spent as he is right now, he thinks he might fall off the bed if he tried to reach for his jacket. Instead, he just crawls around to Tenna's side and flops down next to him, flushed and grinning with his hair standing comically on end. He lazily holds his hand up to Tenna's lips, assuming he'll be happy to get a taste.
"That was... somethin', huh? Haha."
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It sure was something, so much so that whatever small part of Tenna's mind is still capable of logical thought still wonders why the hell they never tried anything like this sooner. Before...well, everything.
Then again, would this have been half so intense (half so meaningful) if it weren't for the distance of ten years between them?
He doesn't want to think about that.
The way he rolls onto his side when Spamton crawls up next to him is nearly automatic, as is the way he wraps both arms around Spamton and pulls him close. Tenna's lips part pliantly, tongue swiping and mouth sucking greedily at those fingers — greedily, but without the same urgency as before. He's no spring chicken; he needs some lead time to work back up to that level of enthusiasm.
If only they had that kind of time.
"I missed this," he murmurs, low, soft. The smell of sex and ozone and Spamton pressed so, so close against him, the feeling of his body, the sound of his voice — Tenna is doing everything he can to recommit it all to memory, to cast an imprint so deep that no level of anger of resentment could possibly overshadow it. "I... I missed you..."
He doesn't want to let go. But he's not going to have a choice, is he?
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"Mm." He still doesn't really know what he's supposed to say. It's not like he can just shoot back the obvious return line of I missed you too when from his point of view they've never parted ways, and he still doesn't like the idea of apologizing for something he hasn't personally done.
So he doesn't say anything for a moment and just relaxes in the embrace, which feels much more intimate than any of the times they've done this before. He runs his hand along Tenna's casing, thumb lightly brushing over the edge of his screen, fuzzy with static.
When he does eventually speak up, it's softer, without much of his usual abrasive and self-assured affectation.
"You ever find the me that left... tell that to him, all right? I don't..." He pauses, looking off to the side as his brow furrows slightly. He's never been the kind of guy to open up about his feelings (even to admit them to himself) unless he's had too much to drink, so he's struggling with this. "I don't think he knew you cared that much. Me and him, we're not really the type most people like to keep around if we're not raking in profits, y'know?"