Archive of Our Own

Spamton, like Tenna, was a Darkner who was composed of mostly technological components- different from the CRT, of course, given that the ad was a tad more modern- but technology nonetheless. Spamton didn't have wires, instead complex and tangled code that threaded itself together to create form, something tangible. On an average day, there wouldn't be anything to signal that he was, much to his annoyance, part organic. Just contemporary enough to be burdened with pesky instincts, soft feathers, and irritating biological tendencies that, no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't shake. As he shrugged his bright red coat over his shoulders, he couldn't help but feel... extra, organic today.

He felt his tail ruffling in his pants, the feathers on his neck fluffing up no matter how many times he smoothed them back down. Goddamn annoying bird shit, and it had to be happening now. On his biggest day of the year.

Black fucking Friday.

Once again running a hand down the back of his neck, Spamton turned to face his reflection in the dressing room mirror, warm lights highlighting how high strung he looked. He leaned forward, hands steady on the desk as he glared, fighting himself to just relax, to breathe. He'd done this too many times to count- it was just business, some boring ads to read. Nothing he couldn't handle.

Except he could see the sweat beading on his brow, stark black hair puffed up just like his feathers, a few strands hanging loose over his forehead. What was wrong with him?

Last year had been his most successful holiday to date- he'd made more sales in a single day than he had all season! He hadn't been nervous, or overwhelmed, or... whatever this was. What had changed?

He was still the same big shot he'd been last year, still working with the same sponsors, the same products. He had the guts and the glory to take this opportunity by its horns, to milk the shopping frenzy for all it was worth, to rake in some extra dough. He knew the stakes, but that wasn't what was bothering him. It wasn't anxiety- he was more than familiar with what that felt like- but rather something new. Something, like he'd recognized from the beginning, organic.

The only thing that had changed, he slowly realized, was Tenna. Well, not Tenna- he couldn't change if he tried- but rather his relationship with Tenna. Business partners wouldn't be the right label anymore- more like business partners with benefits, or even friends with benefits. If Spamton thought about it for too long, he could see himself saying they were closer to...

No. It was just sex. Carnal intimacy. It felt good, and that was that.

Tennas large hands enveloping his body, the way he gave special attention to all of Spamtons favorite spots, remembering each and every reaction, drawing out embarrassing chirps and titters, choked moans as he molded him like putty. The stretch of those fingers, working him open so carefully, so tenderly. The TVs ability to reduce Spamton to broken gasps and pleads- the praise he found himself panting as Tenna stretched him, filled him so thoroughly he swore that nobody would ever make him feel so fucking good. So fucking full.

And on the days they had a good show, how good it felt to have such a huge, powerful Darkner hang on to his every word, drooling like a pathetic pervert, painfully hard just from Spamtons teasing. How easy it was to get that CRT wrapped around his finger, drunk off of praise like it was 100 proof acid. Oh Angel, and the way Tenna behaved for him- not because Spamton could physically control him, but because he liked to be pushed around. Tenna, for as much of a control freak as he was, yearned to relinquish the reins, to just listen, antennae twisted around each other as he eagerly awaited Spamtons commands. Such a greedy bastard, built so large just to act so small.

Spamton refocused on himself in the mirror, horrified to see his face flushed, brows knit tightly together, his dick squirming in his slacks, itching for relief. Shit shit shit. Not today.

He glanced down at his watch, a warm prickle anxiety stirring in his stomach. He had to be on in twenty. Running his fingers through his hair, he stood up straight and began to pace, chewing his bottom lip while considering his options.

Option one was already off the table. Black Friday was an important time for Tenna too- he wasn't selfish enough to ask for help on a day like today. Not just that, but twenty minutes wasn't nearly enough time for them to get frisky and get ready again. Spamton wasn't keen on the idea of looking completely and utterly fucked out on live TV.

He froze in place as his cock twitched, and he realized that maybe he wouldn't actually mind it all that much.

But no, absolutely not. No no no.

The pacing resumed, arms crossed over his chest in frustration.

Option two was to ignore it. He was horny, so what? It would pass, he would stop thinking about Tenna pinning him down and tearing into him (fuck), and he would be able to think clearly again. Except whatever was making him feel like this was foreign to Spamton, and he didn't even know if it would pass. He'd learned from experience that biological urges were harder- if not impossible- to ignore, and if this was one like he suspected, it was only going to get worse.

That left option three- take care of it himself and hope that it would buy him enough time to get through his first few ad runs.

He let out a heavy sigh as he planted himself in front of the mirror once again, trembling fingers creeping down towards his pants, almost on their own. The image in the mirror was shameful, embarrassing, and he found his eyes clenching shut, images of Tenna now even more vivid.

A whine emerged from his throat as he dipped a hand below the waistband of his boxers, slick appendage eagerly curling around his fingers, threading itself around them to find as much friction as possible. He was wet already, dripping onto his feathers, knees going weak as he let himself go, helpless to his own touch.

He clumsily fell back into the stool behind him, legs spread as the tendril beckoned his hand lower, lightly pulling his wrist, his other hand knotted in his hair, having given up on keeping it kempt. His dick now wound around his forearm, undulating and twitching as his fingers pushed past his entrance, shallow breaths drying his shuddering lips.

"F- fuck."

Spamton huffed out a breath, moving in and out of himself at a steady pace, cock fucking itself on his arm. He was so sensitive, so hot, so wet. It felt like his entire body was on fire, his head completely drowning in pleasure, unable to string together any coherent thoughts as he hazily gazed at himself in the mirror. The only thing he could think about was that damned CRT. His Cathode. His Tenna.

How good it would have felt to have him here, taking care of him, making sure he was getting enough. Never enough. Spamton wanted to open the maintenance hatch on his chest and climb in, surrounded by Tenna, hearing and smelling and seeing and tasting nothing but him. Wanted to pull on those wires, feel the electricity on his tongue, over and over again, as the CRT whined helplessly, begging his little mailman for more. Spamton would bite and pull and twist his insides until he finally came, getting his slick all over Tenna- somewhere he wouldn't be able to clean it all up.

His fingers moved faster now, sporadic images flashing through his mind, always Tenna. Tenna kissing him deeply, tongue invading his mouth, sharp fangs nipping at his lip. Tenna laying back and letting Spamton sit on his face as he fucked himself against his tongue. Tenna taking his cock in his mouth, urging him to slither further down his throat, moaning around him. Tenna finger fucking him in his lap, Spamtons legs spread around his intimidating bulge, straining against those tight black pants. Tenna spreading him before sliding in, giving Spamton the stretch he so desperately wanted. Needed.

He choked on nothing as he ground against his slick drenched hand, tears pooling in his eyes as he got closer. He'd lost control of his body at this point, mindlessly stumbling towards release, the old stool creaking as his hips canted, the hand that had been tangled in his hair now attending to his writhing cock, squeezing and tugging desperately. His hands were drenched in his own wetness, a pale blue that would stain his soft white hands if he wasn't careful. So much of it, all because he wanted Tenna so bad. If the TV were here, he'd have no problem just sliding himself in to the hilt, no preparation needed. Fucking him against that stupid makeup table, hitting the back of his cunt, pushing against his stomach. Fucking breeding him.

Oh Angel, Spamton wanted Tenna to knock him up. And, for better or worse, the ad knew that if he begged him, no- just asked him- to do it, he would. That clingy bastard would wrap his claws around Spamtons plush waist and pull his hips up against his own, fucking him nice and deep, until he came inside, his warm, generous spend ruining his cervix. Nourishing him. Claiming him.

Spamton was so, so close, the thought of Tenna finishing inside of him enough to dangle him over that edge, the heat finally reaching its breaking point, finally, finally-

A pair of loud knocks startled him, ripping that release away, curses spilling under his breath as he messily tucked himself back into his boxers, praying to the Angel above that the wetness didn't seep through his pants, that whoever was at the door didn't just let themselves in. He frantically grabbed for a makeup wipe- it would have to do- cleaning his hands before whipping his head up to check himself in the mirror.

Ohhhhhh kay.

Sweat dripped down his face, feathers all over his body ruffled and sticking up like he hadn't preened in weeks. A humiliatingly large puddle of slick was beginning to stain the carpet and the wooden stool, and he suddenly became keenly aware of the scent of himself washed over the room. So much for him not looking fucked out.

"Spammy! It's almost time, are you ready?" Tennas giddy voice called from the hallway, unaware of his partners predicament. Thank the Angel he hadn't come in- Spamton was actually surprised at the non intrusion. If he had, they'd both be feeling hot under the collar, and that would definitely have been bad for ratings. Some higher being was obviously looking out for him today.

Spamtons spit got caught in his throat as he tried to speak, coughing out an "almost ready!" as he hurriedly combed his hair back once again, opting to just hope his suit would hide the sorry state of his feathers (and his poor dick).

"Are you feeling okay?" Tennas voice was softer now, a twinge of worry accompanying the words. "I know you don't like it when I-"

Spamton yanked the door inwards, the TV almost falling forward as he did, having been leaning against it. The ad rushed out past Tenna, making it obvious that he expected him to follow. There was a gross amount of evidence of his misdeeds in that dressing room; between the substantial puddle on the floor, the warmth emitting from the space, and the obvious smell, Spamton couldn't believe Tenna hadn't picked up on anything during the brief moment the door was open.

"'M fine, lets go."

Spamton hadn't meant to sound so short with him, but between the ache numbing his legs and the stupid heat that just wouldn't leave him alone, he couldn't help it. Truly, Spamton wasn't angry with Tenna- he often got annoyed with the TV for worrying about him too much- but this was different. Spamton knew he looked out of sorts, probably sounded it too. Not to mention he was never not early when it came to a show. Tenna had the right to worry.

Still, he was on a razors edge, and worrying about Tenna being glooby wasn't first on his list of priorities. What was first was not thinking about him at all. Which- as the taller Darkner easily caught up with Spamtons brisk pace, an annoyed expression shining on his screen- proved to be futile.

"Spamton, you can't just say you're fine and expect me to believe it." Tenna scowled down at the addison, who kept his eyes ahead, pressing on. Not thinking about Tenna. Not thinking about his name on his lips, the way he sounded when-

"Hello, earth to Spammy?" Tenna waved his hand down in front of the addison, stopping him in his tracks. "You can't just ignore me!"

"Heh, wanna bet on that?" Spamton muttered under his breath before looking up at the TV hovering over him, sulking lamely. Rolling his eyes, he continued, speaking at full volume.

"Tens, I promise I'm okay." Spamton nudged past the gloved hand, giving it a halfhearted squeeze. "Just Black Friday nerves is all."

The ad kept walking, doing all in his power to avoid looking at Tenna. Huge, comforting, alluring Tenna. He swallowed, shoving that thought down before it could go anywhere else.

"You? Nervous? For a show?" Tenna barked, appalled that Spamton would lie to him so blatantly. He began moving again, once again catching up in just a few steps. Damn him and his stupid long legs. "You don't get nervous! Not for something like this!"

Tenna was pouting, Spamton assumed both because he knew the ad was lying, but also, selfishly, because he couldn't have anything out of place. If something was wrong with Spamton, his entire program would be ruined, and he'd fail.

The ad stilled before responding, back still turned to the TV.

"Yes, me. Nervous."

One of the worst performances to date. Spamton didn't even believe himself as he uttered that beauty out, teeth bared in a grimace and shoulders hunched as he braced for Tennas retribution. Shockingly, Tenna didn't yell, or grab him- just stayed behind Spamton, voice cold.

"When the show is over, I expect you to tell me the truth." 

Spamton couldn't help but shudder at those words, that icy delivery, dick stirring in his pants. Tenna hadn't even said anything remotely sexy, and yet-

Spamton resumed their walk before he could overthink too hard, Tennas footsteps echoing behind him, much farther apart than his own.

His hormones were obviously on a hair trigger, and sooner or later he was going to embarrass himself. He prayed it would be later.

When the show is over.

As long as everything went as planned, he'd be fine. They'd get through it, and he could relieve himself after. He would tell Tenna that he was just having some weird reaction to the weather, or something he'd had to eat, and they would fuck, and he would feel better. Tenna would make him feel better. Like always.

The clacking of their dress shoes ceased as they reached the stage door, both just standing there, waiting for something to happen, for one of them to break the silence. Tenna, impatient as ever, spoke first, still looking straight ahead, expression tense.

"Just..." The CRT hesitated, fingers twisting nervously. "Tell me I didn't do something. To upset you."

Spamton turned around to look up at Tenna in shock as he shrunk down a few feet, confused as to where that had come from. Tenna was constantly doubting himself, needed reassurance regularly, but...

Ah. He'd done it now.

"Oh Cathode," Spamton started, reaching up to grab one of his hands, holding it like it was precious, "I- I didn't mean to make you think-" Spamton wasn't good at the feelings stuff, but for Tenna... He'd try his best. He breathed out, closing his eyes as he tried to focus on what to say. "It's nothing you did, I just, uh, am a little on edge today.” He puffed his cheeks up, trying to ignore the puppy dog eyes Tenna was giving him. "Let's get through our show," he grinned, trying to lighten the mood, splitting the weight of success between both of their shoulders, "and I promise I'll let you know what's going on."

Tenna grew a bit before returning Spamtons gaze, still unsure. "You're sure it wasn't anything I did?"

Spamton let out a comforting laugh before rolling his eyes and placing a hand on the door, ready to push. "Not everything is about you, Tens."

Tenna was back to his normal size, grinning like an idiot as the door swung open, revealing the hustle and bustle of the studio. The pair walked through the crowd, at home in the chaos, Spamton even able to ignore the prickly feeling in his gut, by some miracle. Shadowguys and pippins rushed past them, careful to stay out of the way, frantically shouting at each other, trying to make everything perfect for their boss. Tenna, though, was preoccupied, more focused on his upcoming performance than any technical aspect of the show.

Spamton could hear him muttering lines under his breath, foot tapping steadily, itching to get on stage. They were both bundles of restless energy, but once they had somewhere to channel it, they truly shone- it was just those few moments before that really put them on edge. Pre-stage jitters, Tenna had named them, because no- he wasn't scared of an audience- he just couldn't contain himself.

Spamton, usually finding himself in a similar situation, knew that Tenna wasn't misplaced in his earlier thinking that the addison didn't get nervous- not for stuff like this. Spamton was built for advertising, literally constructed from lines of code that gave him the innate ability to entertain. He was aware from his own experience that Tennas toe tapping and finger wringing wasn't due to anxiety, but eagerness- the ad knew it wasn't long before his own jitters set in. Usually he'd be ready to take them on, comfortable in the anticipation... except for today. Today, he hoped the excitement would keep itself at bay- he already had too many feelings swarming his consciousness. No excitement, no basking in the spotlight; he just needed to go through the motions, and let the bliss of the spotlight find him later.

When the show is over.

He reminded himself, watching the large red LIVE sign buzz on, Tenna squeezing his shoulder before rushing forward, quickly consumed by the roars of his audience. Where he belonged.

Spamton couldn't help but grin as he watched the boob tube thriving in his natural habitat, doing what he was made to do; entertain. The way he spoke, his exaggerated movements, his larger than life personality- all of it created for these moments. The ad felt a swell of pride bubble in his chest as Tenna recited lines with practiced perfection, not missing a beat as he switched from topic to topic, flowing through them as naturally as breathing.

He didn't know if it was because of his... condition, or if it was something else- something he didn't want to even consider- but today, that pride felt different. Like if he let it, it would drag him down and drown him in it. He felt a prickle of fear as part of himself longed to just give in to it, to be swept up in its warm embrace, but he was stronger than his emotions, so he bottled it up, and tossed it somewhere far away.

Idly settling his eyes on the tall figure on stage, his thoughts unwittingly roamed back to his earlier... episode, and the strange urges he'd felt at its (almost, goddammit) climax. The unmistakable hunger to be- as horrifying as it was to admit, even to himself- bred. By Tenna. Never in his life had he wanted anything to do with copulating, unless it was the non-committal, just for fun kind. Sex, to him, was nothing more than a way to relieve stress, to feel good with another darkner. Said darkner just happened to be Tenna- Spamton didn't like him like that... did he? How would he even know?

He knew other addisons often experienced mating impulses, but Spamton hadn't been like other addisons. They had always been less impulsive, more likely to settle down and take what they were given, rather than asking for more. Procreation was just a part of their code, what they were built to do. Spamton liked to believe he was different for a world-shattering reason- that he was meant to be bigger than his own purpose, but standing here on wobbly legs, stickiness soaking his boxers... well damn.

Damn!

Spamton blinked as he came to a stunning realization, hands curling into fists at his sides, face getting hot. He did know what this was.

When an addison ignored their code, their purpose, for too long, they'd get sick. Sometimes it was mild, just a tremor of the hands, a rolling headache. Sometimes, though, it manifested as something more. Something animalistic. Something Spamton had never had the misfortune to experience.

Now though, ever since Tenna, he'd probably woken up those strings of numbers, activating some ignored, repressed urge that was making up for lost time. As far as he knew, the other addisons never had it this bad, maybe just sweating a little extra for a day or two. This, though, was fucking ridiculous.

The combination of Mr. I Love TV trying to get in his pants every fucking day mixed with the overstimulation of the extra doses of ads for Black Friday had to have been the losing formula. He was going to kill Tenna.

He stumbled into to an unoccupied directors seat and drew his legs to his chest, palms pressing against his cheeks as he tried to recall everything he knew about addison mating cycles.

They tended to be sporadic- no lead up or come down- just a punch in the gut that left them reeling. Like something had possessed them, or taken hold of their nerves, touching them with a live wire. They weren't easy to ignore, just coming back stronger if left unattended. They also weren't something addisons tended to deal with on their own- having a partner was a great relief, but also a huge downfall. Having a partner was what gave them that mating desire, one that often ended in a real pipis. One that needed to be nurtured, raised, cared for. Something he wasn't sure Tenna could even give him.

What Tenna could give him, though, was relief. He knew that as soon as an addison dealt with the desire, it would ebb away, let them feel normal again. He just needed to keep his head on, mouth shut, and feel good. None of that domestic, Pipis crap. Just Tennas stupid fat dick in his cunt.

He lightly slapped his hands on his cheeks as he cut the train of thought, startling a pippin that was walking by, a few sheets of paper fluttering to the ground. Spamton chuckled awkwardly, hopping out of the seat to help the small darkner gather papers, when he heard Tenna wrapping up the first segment. Almost his turn. It was fine, he could do this. He had to do this.

"Um, Mr. Spamton, are you feeling okay?" The pippin hesitated before standing, offering the ad a hand.

Spamton sucked air through his teeth before accepting the help, dusting his legs off before putting on a signature big shot smile, chuckling boldly. "Of course!" Spamton leaned towards the pippin, who leaned away just a little in turn, shuffling his papers nervously. "Please don't say anything to the boss."

The pippins just nodded before rushing off, Spamton letting his shoulders drop as Tenna waved at the crowd, making his grand exit as obnoxiously as ever. Spamton snorted, rolling his eyes. A different pippins motioned towards the ad, prepping him to take Tennas place, saying something about the product he was about to present. Spamton wasn't listening, rather helplessly focusing on the CRT, silicone and metal coated with a sheen of synthetic sweat as he approached, excitement clear in his steps. He couldn't help but stare as the robot was finally clear of the blinding stage lights, breathing heavily as darkners bombarded him with words, makeup, and water. Tenna just laughed, and Spamton swore he saw him wink, but didn't have time to dwell on anything before a pair of pippins pushed him, eyes narrowing as they adjusted to the spotlight. Showtime.

-

Everything went well. Almost too well.

Spamton was thrilled with himself as he finished his first set of reads, jogging offstage with a bounce in his stride, almost crashing straight into Tenna as he was enveloped by the shadows in the wings.

"And you told me you were nervous!" Tenna smacked him on the back, a small oof escaping Spamton. "I knew you were fibbing."

"Yeah, well, doesn't matter now, eh?" Spamton smirked, slicking his hair back. "First read went pretty damn good- I'm feeling like a million bucks!"

"That's my Spamton!" Tenna grinned, arms folding. "But don't get too cocky, hotshot," the TV took a step past him, ready for round two, "never know who'll upstage you."

Spamton shivered, the heat in his gut swelling once again, reminding him that he was, in fact, not feeling like a million bucks. The adrenaline faded as he stood, watching Tennas second intro of the day, his dick twitching in interest. He just needed to get through two more reads, and they'd have a break. Spamton hadn't decided if he was going to sulk back to his dressing room and take care of it himself, or if he was going to fight his ego and ask Tenna to help him. He still had some control over himself, and he'd keep it that way as long as possible. Inviting the CRT to join so soon would only put them both in a worse position.

-

Before Spamton knew it, another one of his ad segments was done, and they were closer than ever to break time.

Tenna was onto his third act, this time performing as a cowboy in some old western, a rerun Spamton had seen far too many times. The addison knew all the words, reciting lines without even thinking, content to just stare, admiring the way Tenna looked in those tight jeans, sturdy as ever. His toned thighs leading up to that grabbable ass, the way his chest broadened out, metal and silicone fused together into something so, so alluring. His face, so simple yet so emotive, staring at him like...

Staring at him?

Spamton leaned forward and squinted, trying to get his eyes to adjust without his glasses, and hoooh boy.

Sure enough, Tenna was looking directly at the ad, a wheat stalk held between his teeth, fangs glinting dangerously. Anyone in the audience would assume Tenna was looking at the shadowguy in front of him, but Spamton could see all too well. He was looking past him.

He knew that cathode well enough to be able to read most of his facial cues- a skill he really wished he didn't have in his current predicament. Tennas smile was almost predatory, upper faceplate lowered not with anger, but with infatuation. Tenna had caught Spamton staring, and he liked it. A lot. A lot enough to break that precious fourth wall he prattled on about, just to give Spamton a sliver of his attention.

The addisons knees suddenly weakened beneath him as he reached for a set piece, bracing himself, hand snapping to his mouth as a pitiful whine escaped him. Tenna had resumed his focus on the scene, carrying on like nothing had just happened.

Spamton, though, couldn't help but replay that stare over and over, dizzy with the feeling of Tennas attention on him.

Tenna, who was a stickler for stage etiquette, never doing anything to risk his ratings. Tenna, the man who fired anyone who dared improv a line, or wave to an audience member. Tenna, who was usually so enamored with his audience, that he lost himself in them.

Today, though, Tenna had, over everyone else in that room, given Spamton that attention. Over the darkners, lightners- everybody.

Spamton felt the air leave his lungs as he sunk to his knees, his cock struggling in his pants once again, new wetness rubbing against the stickiness from earlier. His entire brain rattled with thoughts of Tenna Tenna Tenna, his eyes unable to tear away from the show in front of him.

He still had a third set to do, didn't he? A fog curled into his head, a warm thing, like the nice buzz of one too many shots. Maybe he could get away with pretending he was drunk.

No, that would probably be worse. Tenna would beat his ass. Not that he wouldn't enjoy it.

Heat clawed at his waist, Spamton doubling over as a new wave of lust washed over him, nails scraping the old black paint from the floor. He seethed, thighs rubbing together unconsciously, slick now seeping through the front of his pants. Angel help him.

He rigidly reached over his shoulder, yanking his coat off in one solid movement, his forehead against the cold floor, ass in the air. Whatever, not like he had the capacity to care. Tenna, according to their stage timer, still had two minutes. Spamton would either pull himself together, or they'd have to forgo the ad reads and get some underpaid pippin to take his place.

Yeah right. Over his dead body.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself up, grasping at the set piece, knees buckling. A minute thirty.

Trying to clear his head, Spamton thought about the other addisons, how much they used to piss him off. Their stupid boasting, their "tips" they promised would give him a boost, their nonstop chattering. How badly he wanted to prove them wrong. It didn't do as much as he would've liked, but he didn't have much of a choice. He was on.

Tenna, for the third time, made his way towards Spamton, that stupid stalk of whatever the fuck it was hanging loosely from his mouth. Spamton took one last deep breath, stiffening as Tenna knelt down right in front of him, nose almost touching his.

"Saw you starin' pardner." Tenna stifled a giggle, the air making Spamtons feathers ruffle. "I'll be sure to return the favor."

It was supposed to be funny. He knew it was supposed to be a joke, and yet-

"Spamton, you're up! Let's go!"

He was not TV ready, nor appropriate, but this was the last ad before break, so he took one more shaky breath, put on that award winning smile, and swaggered out on stage, holding his bright red jacket in front of his body to hide his leaking, writhing appendage. The stage lights felt hotter than usual as he perched behind the presentation desk, leaning on his elbows for some support.

He dared to steal a glance at tenna, who, as promised, was watching intently from backstage. Sipping on his water. Motherfucker.

"Hello again everybody!" The crowd cheered as Spamton began his third commercial, an applause sign flashing over his head. "I'm sure you know me by now, and if you don't, too bad! A man gets sick of introducing himself after a while!" Laughter, cued by a sign. "Now, as you all know, I'm here to show off an amazing product from an equally amazing sponsor!" More applause. It wasn’t doing much to help Spamton this time, but he tightened his jaw and continued.

"This product may not seem very exciting, but I assure you, not everything needs to be a thrill to be a top notch deal!" The ad grinned, lifting the lid of a small display that had been set up on the table in front of him.  He had been given a rundown of what he was going to be advertising, but always neglected to read through scripted portions, so he found himself wondering how in the fuck they were going to try to sell this shit. 

"You may not think of a doorstop as an exciting addition to your household, but let me assure you," Spamton held the small piece of hard rubber out towards his audience, "reliability always trumps excitability!"

He could feel the queued up lines from his sponsor on the tip of his tongue, ready to pour out of his mouth, out of his control. He usually dreaded this part of his commercials, but today he was glad to let them take over. At least he wouldn't have to think about anything other than not falling over.

"New from [DOOR DOMINATORS LLC]!" Words tumbled from his mouth, mind racing to keep up with their frantic pace. "[EXTRA HEAVY] doors seem to be [TOP 10 MOST TRENDY!] these days, and keeping them [WIDE OPEN] is harder than ever! That's why [DOOR DOMINATORS LLC] has been [HARD HARD HARD] [WORKING HARD] to bring you their [NEW AND SHINY] product, the [SureStop Wedge ™]!"

Spamton briefly wondered if there were supposed to be that many hards in that line, but shook it off. Nobody could see below his belt- he was just in his head about it. LLCs didn't have the best scripts anyways, it had to have been an error on their end.

"The [SureStop Wedge ™] may not sound [EXCITED], but its [MASSIVE RELIABILITY] will more than [MAKE OUT] for that!"

Spamton could feel his face flush, heart beating so hard he swore everyone would see. He was definitely fucking their script up with his own stupid tics. He wanted to crash his head through the hollow stage surface, bury himself and never face anyone ever again.

This was a sponsor controlled segment though, so he physically couldn't. He couldn't move, couldn't take a second. Couldn't. Stop. Talking.

"[TALL AND HANDSOME] doors are no match for this [ERGONOMICALLY GROOVED] [WEDGED IN BETWEEN-]!"

His throat was tight, pants tighter. Every fucking thing reminded him of Tenna. 

He risked another glance at said TV, who was still in the wings, watching with an unreadable expression- it was too dark to make out fully. It was bad enough having the CRT contaminating his thoughts, but now he was giving addison his attention, watching. He was already struggling to ignore the fantasies, but now he had the real thing giving him a taste what he so desperately wanted. 

"Whether you're [AT HOME] or [THE WORKPLACE], the [SureStop Wedge ™] will [TAKE PERFECT CARE] [ENTHUSIASTIC CARE] [OF ME] you!"

This was officially Spamtons personal hell. Possessed by another persons words, unable to stop his racing thoughts, trembling hands- so fucking turned on he couldn't believe he was still standing. And Tenna, smug bastard, getting to stand by and enjoy his struggle. Even if he didn't know it.

"[SureStop Wedge ™] will get any door to [BEG] and [WHINE FOR RELIEF], or your [MONEY BACK GUARANTEE] [subject to approval, please visit surestop.com for full terms and conditions]."

If not for the tablecloth soaking up the extra slick, there would be juice running down Spamtons quivering legs, dripping onto the floor. It was pathetic, it was irredeemable. 

He could feel the scripted portion of the ad coming to a close- only a couple more lines until he was free. One more look at Tenna, just one, and he'd have enough strength to follow through, to bear it until the end. As his eyes shifted though, and he laid them on his partner, he knew he'd made a fatal error.

The TV was, as promised, still watching, but he'd crept closer to the stage, barely in the light, just enough for Spamton to be able to read his expression this time. Instantly, he knew that Tenna knew.

Tennas screen was off, only a mouth remaining, fangs piercing the fabric of one of his gloved hands as he bit down on it, hard. His other hand was curled into a solid fist at his side, an easy tell that he was holding himself back. Spamton couldn't help but let out a soft, almost inaudible whine as he noticed Tennas jeans, now noticeably tighter, showing off the outline of his dick, straining against the zipper.

He needed him so bad, more than he'd ever needed anything in his life. But the words just kept coming.

"[CALL] for a [FREE] [SAMPLE ME TODAY] [PLEASE]." He wasn't even looking at the audience anymore as the words fell from his mouth, voice hoarse, fingers digging into the tablecloth, tearing it. "Remember, [DOORDOMINATORS] will never [LET ME] [YOU]- Angel- [TENNA]-" He gasped as the curtains abruptly closed, a pair of strong arms wrapping around him almost too fast for him to compute as he started to collapse, the heat of Tennas body pressed against his back, just in time.

"Tennnns-" He slurred, absolute mush in the larger man's arms. The CRT was on his knees, uncharacteristically quiet, as was the entire room.

"I've got you Spammy." Tenna finally spoke, his low voice sending vibrations through the addisons body. "You- I-" he trailed off, unsure, not knowing exactly what Spamton needed. He could feel Tenna holding himself back, fingers not quite finding a place to land, brushing against his soft body, seeking answers. All the ad could do was enjoy the feeling of the body behind him, bulge pressing against his back, hands wrapped so carefully around his waist. Spamton couldn't stand up on his own, so he shifted, tilting his head up to look at Tenna.

"Thanks, big guy." He managed to breathe, smiling up at the screen, who was just staring down at him, unsure. Even now, with his enormous package poking Spamton, hands big enough to make a complete loop around his body, he was still so goddamn considerate. Right now, though, Spamton didn’t need considerate. He needed Tenna.

The CRT opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, then, finally, formed his thoughts into words. 

"You, um, been like this all day?" Tenna visibly swallowed as Spamton nodded, his wet thighs rubbing together, eyes half lidded, mouth hanging open. "Oh Spammy, I, uh, didn't-"

Spamton had been like this all day, for hours, and he was sick of fucking waiting. Before Tenna could keep yammering on, Spamton reached up, grabbed the antennae bouncing above them and pulled, the CRT letting out a sharp groan as their mouths connected, sloppy and desperate. Spamton felt his body melt as he sunk into the feeling of Tennas tongue prodding at his own, seeking entry, impatient as ever. He felt fangs nip teasingly at his bottom lip, tugging, spurring the addison on.

Spamton choked back a moan as one of Tennas hands left his waist and made its way forward, cupping his dick through his ruined slacks, the pressure offering more relief than he’d had since this morning. Tears spilled from his eyes as he felt himself cum in his pants, the sensation of Tennas tongue moving down his throat and his huge hand palming him too much too soon. 

He would’ve been embarrassed if he’d had the capacity to feel anything other than want, but as it was, he just panted into the CRTs mouth, eyes unfocused, his whole body on fire. Cumming once had done absolutely nothing- he still needed more. So much more. 

“Spammy, did you just- oumh!”

Tenna was cut off by another harsh tug on his antennae, teeth clacking as he was pulled back in, Spamton rubbing his ass against the larger darkner, desperate. He wanted Tenna now. He wanted to rip off those flattering pants and sink himself down onto the one thing that would cure him. 

Before he could put those plans into action, though, Tenna pulled himself back, antennae too high to reach. A string of spit broke between them as Spamton whimpered, still grinding against the CRT, annoyed to find Tenna stiff, fighting to not reciprocate the movement. Fucking bastard. 

“Sp- Spamton.” He huffed, both hands back on the addisons waist, trying to still him. “Not here.” 

Spamton pouted, grasping onto Tennas fingers with his own small white hands, encouraging him to stay.

“But, but I-”

“Not. Here.”

Before Spamton could argue again, Tenna lifted him, hoisting him over one of his broad shoulders, blushing as he caught a glimpse of the scandalized tablecloth. Spamton had been right in thinking the stage seemed quiet- Tenna, he assumed, had sent everyone home early, or at least told them to take a break. On any other day, the addison would have registered the immense importance of that decision- Tenna cutting their show abruptly just because of how much of a degenerate his partner was, on a holiday- but he wasn’t able to do much thinking past breed dick Tenna hot.

“Tenna, wanna sit on you, want you to fuck me.” 

“Spamton, what’s gotten into you?” Tenna hissed, kicking open a door to the hallway, starting a brisk pace towards his dressing room. “Quiet down!”

“Why big guy, m’ I gettin you all flustered?” Spamton laughed, a crazed sound that scratched his throat. 

“Yes.” Tenna grunted, moving faster, hand kneading Spamtons ass as he bounced on his shoulder. 

“Hah!” Spamton craned his neck to look at Tennas face, grinning. “Whatcha gonna do to me if I keep yammerin’?”

“Angel Spammy, please be quiet, we’re almost there.” Embarrassment mingled with lust as they passed a pair of pippins, both averting their eyes, scurrying in the opposite direction. Tenna hoped and prayed they would be the only employees to have to see Spamton like this, relief flooding him as they turned a corner, the door to his dressing room finally in sight. 

“Can’t be quiet, gotta tell you everything I’ve been imagining all fuckin’ day.” Spamton purred into Tennas vent, his gloved hand squeezing him a little tighter. “This morning, when I woke up, was feeling so fuckin’ needy, kept thinking about how big you are. How huge you feel when you’re inside me, fuck Tens, so fucking massive.” The CRT groaned, strides longer, faster. “Felt my feathers ruffle up thinkin’ about you, that tail you love so much begging to be touched, my cunt aching.”

“Spam-”

“Tens, hah,” he couldn't think, just letting words pour out, sweating and shaking like a madman. “You- I was thinkin’ about you while touchin’ myself, lookin’ all fucked out and pretty, wishin’ I had the real thing. Thought about you fuckin- agh, breeding me Tens, matin’ me, stuffin’ me full of your cum. Want you to fuck me raw, want you to cum inside me, big guy. Can you do that for me, Tens? Can you-”

Tenna grabbed Spamton and shoved him against the outside of his fitting room door, Spamton wriggling against the placard. “You- I, I oughta-” Tenna practically snarled, the addison grinning, legs dangling helplessly. 

“Oughta what, big shot?”

Spamton heard Tenna growl before he stuffed him under his arm, yanking the doorknob with enough force to almost rip it off. The addison could only cackle as he was tossed roughly onto the sofa, exactly like he’d wanted. Tenna, back facing him, slammed the door and turned the lock, shoulders raised high, tension wracking his body. He just stood there, breathing heavily, composure completely gone. 

Spamton grunted as he rolled over, draped over the couch like it was his. His feathers were sticking up in every direction, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he stared at Tennas ass, admiring. Fantasizing. He brought a hand down to undo his constraining pants, finally in a place where he could-

“Spamton, if you’re touching yourself, I swear I am going to-”

Spamton made sure Tenna could hear the zipper as he slowly moved it down, fixated on the CRTs body language. Watching as he flinched at the sound, fists tightening, claws beginning to tear through his precious gloves.

Spamton shimmied out of the stained slacks, tossing them to the side, now just wearing his shirt, a tie, and boxers. His coat had been left on stage, abandoned with the soiled tablecloth. He loosened the knot around his neck, letting the yellow fabric dangle, lopsided, as he undid the first few buttons of his shirt, watching Tenna listen. Every shift, every rustle received a reaction. A twitch of the antennae, another claw piercing a glove. It was addicting. 

Spamton reached down towards his writhing cock, letting it, for the second time that day, wrap around his fingers, a wanton moan escaping his lips as the friction set his nerves aflame. Tenna finally snapped his head around, teeth grinding as he locked eyes with the addison. Spamton didn’t stop touching himself, hot gaze fixed on the screen across the room. Now that Tenna was watching, he brought his other hand down, pushing his boxers lower as he spread himself, letting a finger sink into his folds, tail fluttering with excitement. 

Tenna snapped. 

It only took him a few steps to reach the couch and pull both of Spamtons arms into one of his hands, looming over him as he held his wrists above his head. Tenna was half standing, one of his legs on the sofa, knee slotting itself tantalizingly close to Spamtons groin. He cast a large shadow over the addison, his screen basking the smaller darkner in a soft glow, illuminating his face and the feathers on his chest. 

“Pretty.” Tenna lowly murmured, watching Spamtons muscles contract over and over as he kept him pinned down, unable to seek relief. 

“I’ll- I’ll fuckin’ show you pretty- fuck- goddamnit Tens, do something!” Spamton struggled against Tennas iron grip, to no avail. He’d gotten overzealous- their difference in size, in strength, having been thrown to the wayside just to get a rise out of the CRT. Now he was facing the consequences. 

“Do something?” Tenna grinned in feigned innocence, those fangs looking far more dangerous now than they had five minutes ago. “You try to lie to me, keep things from me, you don’t listen to me when I tell you to stop talking, and you want me to do something?” Tenna laughed, voice deep, riddled with lust. “You’ll have to try harder than that.”

Spamton was losing the strength to fight. His muscles were tired, all his blood having abandoned the rest of his body to flee to his neglected dick. It strained towards Tennas leg, wanting him to touch, to give him attention, anything. Fuck, Tenna made Spamton feel so goddamned powerless. 

“I- ah, Tenna, sorry, I just, shit, can’t stop myself. Not when it comes to you.” Tennas grin widened, Spamtons words stroking his ego. “You make me crazy, big guy. Only one who’s ever, hhhh- made me- like this.”

Tenna huffed out a small noise as his head sank down to Spamtons shoulder, tongue running a stripe up to his pulse. He shivered as the TV brought his mouth to his ear, lips barely brushing, as he whispered, “Keep talking.” 

“Oh, so now you want me to-  fuuuuck, Cathode-“ Tenna cut Spamtons sentence off for him as his mouth latched onto his neck and sucked, teeth prodding at his delicate skin, threatening to break it.

He pulled back, leaving Spamton a heaving mess, his voice swirling around the addison. “I said keep. Talking.” 

Tennas mouth was relentless, his knee finally shifting up to give Spamton something to rut on, his hips moving on their own. 

Keep talking. He had to keep talking. 

“Tenna, you- Angel, you- so good, so good for me. Make me feel so good, you, ah- almighty- you have no idea- mmph- how bad I wanted to knock on your, fuck, door this morning, ask you to fuck me.” Spamton was lost in a haze of pure heat, his second orgasm creeping up on him, vision blurry, body undone. “You did something- something to me. Makin’ me feel so organic, so fuckin’ itchy. Ugh, Tenna, mouth- your mouth-“

He’d moved on to the other side of Spamtons neck, sucking bruises into him like it was what was keeping him alive. The hand that wasn’t holding his arms in place had moved to knead at the base of his tail, small coos and chirps burbling from the addison between words. 

“You- ah- like touchin’ me down there, huh?” Spamton flicked his tail, back arching as he gave Tenna more room to touch. “Fuckin’- mm, pervert. Like me for my- my tailfeathers?”

Tenna grunted, squeezing in affirmation, unashamed of how turned on he was. Spamton rarely let Tenna touch his tail, and now he was encouraging it, leaning into it, letting it feel good. 

The addison tilted his head forward to look between them, and he felt another surge of heat flow through his body. Tennas dick was impossibly hard, the outline of it stretching his briefs. Spamtons own was not faring any better, eagerly fucking itself on Tennas sturdy thigh, the rough texture of his jeans adding to the sensation. Their clothes were ruined, couch stained, feathers littering the floor- they would have to replace everything. 

“Oh Ant-“ Spamton choked, his second orgasm of the day hitting him full force. Tennas mouth kept working on his neck, clever tongue and teeth drawing little noises from him as he came down from the high.

His dick almost instantly perked back up, spurred on by how debauched Tenna looked as he drew back from his neck. He was covered in drool, face twisted in desire, screen dark red. 

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.” Tenna was visibly shaking as he released Spamtons arms, frantically working to undo his belt. “I- I’m sorry I just- I can’t help myself when you look at me like that.” 

“Please-“ Spamton whined, regaining feeling in his fingers, moving his hands to grasp at Tennas shirt, trying to pull him closer. “No- no need to f-feel sorry. Been waitin’ for ya- for this.”

Tenna bit down on his lip, eagerly pulling his shirt off in one quick motion, much to Spamtons delight. His small fingers immediately found purchase in his silicone chest, the feeling of warm skin drawing a low purr from the addisons throat. Tenna shuddered, staticky drool dripping down his chin as he stared at Spamton, the smaller darkner wriggling under him, trying to get closer.

“How do you want me?” The CRT hurriedly helped Spamton out of his crumpled shirt, only his briefs and the mailman’s (very cute) TV Time boxers remaining.

“T-turn me over. Fuck me into the couch Tens, p-please, nice and deep.” Spamton lifted a leg and brought his foot to Tennas crotch, tugging the stretchy fabric down, a bead of precum seeping through. The massive darkner looked positively pornographic as he grabbed Spamton and flipped him onto his stomach, wrapping an arm around his waist to hoist his ass into the air and drag him towards his twitching cock. Spamton could feel his tail wagging, feathers standing on end as Tenna pressed his bulge against his ass, the thin layer of fabric clinging to Spamton doing nothing to hide how ready they both were.

Finally. 

Spamton felt Tennas dick jump as he lifted his hips, pressing his wet folds against him, the CRT groaning, waist canting forward on instinct. 

“Need to- to stretch you- mmmm- first.” Tenna grunted, looping one of his fingers over the waistband of Spamtons boxers, pulling them down to his thighs.

“No, no- just- been ready for you all day cathode, please, just-“ Spamton was so close to getting what he’d been yearning for, he'd be damned if he had to wait any longer. He could take it. 

“Spammy, I-“ Tenna choked, pulling his own underwear down, cock falling to rest on the crest of Spamtons ass. It was heavy against him, intimidating, perfect. 

“Tens, please. Please, I-I need it- need you. I need you.” 

Tenna thrusted shallowly against the addisons back, the underside of his cock brushing against his tail, teasing. He didn’t want to hurt Spamton, but he was so wet, begging so nicely- would it really be okay if he just…

Spamton gasped as he felt Tenna pull back and push himself forward at a different angle, the head of his dick hot against his entrance, hesitating.

Fuck yes.

Spamton lowered his hips, taking control as he pushed against Tennas cock, swallowing him inch by inch, laughing breathily as the feeling of being filled overtook his senses. He heard Tenna groan, one of his hands pressing Spamtons head into the couch, the other latching onto his tail, pulling, encouraging him to keep going. The addison was shivering, drowning in ecstasy as his dick jerked itself back, wrapping around Tennas length, trying to pull him deeper inside. 

“Spamton, Sp- Spammy, you gotta-“ 

But Spamton couldn’t hear anything anymore. Pleasure coursed through him, tongue lolling out of his mouth, the weight of Tennas hand heavy on his skull. He felt Tenna pull out slightly before sliding himself back in, deeper, nuzzling his way further into Spamtons tight hole. He wasn’t even all the way in, and Spamton could already feel the heat of a third orgasm at the edge of his senses, his body overjoyed at finally getting what it had been searching for.

“Sp- ahh- mmy.” Tenna whimpered, pulling back once again before jamming himself further inside Spamton.  The addison could feel his stomach bulging, Tennas huge cock forcing Spamtons pussy to stretch, to accommodate him. 

Spamton wiggled further back, his backside finally brushing against Tennas stomach as he bottomed himself out, both darkners moaning at the sensation. It usually took much longer than this- Spamton was small, even for an addison- so Tenna always made sure to tenderly stretch him, make sure he was comfortable. This, though, was downright sinful. 

His delicate, soft body, wanting Tenna so desperately that he couldn’t bear to wait any longer- couldn’t even be patient enough to let the CRT be the one to push himself in. Spamton had initiated this, had speared himself down on his cock, had filled himself up. Was using Tenna to get himself off. 

The TV shivered, pulling back before shoving himself inside once again, Spamtons yelp muffled by the cushions. 

“Spam- I- ugh- need you to- hah- say something.“ Tenna punctuated each word with a thrust, fucking into Spamtons tight heat, the addison meeting his hips halfway. “Wanna hear you.”

Tenna watched as Spamton just moaned, face buried in the sofa, gone. Nothing in his head but his own pleasure. 

Tenna tangled his fingers through Spamtons disheveled hair, gripping him tightly. He tugged, Spamtons back arching as his head was raised, moans now spilling freely into the room, unguarded and loud. 

“Spamton- I- I- d-did you hear m-me?” Tenna tightened his grip in Spamtons locks, his other hand having wrapped around his waist, guiding his movements. 

“Tenn- ah-“ He gasped, eyes unfocused, trained towards the ceiling. “So fuh- fucking- gonna- wanna-“

“You gonna finish for me Spammy?” Tenna sped up, his hips crashing against Spamton with each thrust, unrelenting. “Gonna cum for me again?”

Spamton just groaned, feeling Tennas hand wrap around the front of his throat, holding him up, starving him of breath. His head tingled as he went limp, body in Tennas complete control- whatever he wanted. 

“Tenna- Tenna you- I’m- oh oh my god-“ Spamton panted as the TV dragged him back and forth over and over, his pace becoming erratic, signaling he too was close. “Inside. Tenna- Tens- You gotta- fuck, please, inside.”

“Hah, you still thinking about that?” Tenna laughed breathlessly, leaning forward to press his body against Spamtons back. “Me knocking you up?”

Spamton shuddered, a foreign warmth blooming in his gut at the words. This angle was deeper- the head of Tennas dick barely kissing his cervix, teasing, promising. 

“Fuck yes.” Spamton moaned, feathers quivering. “Want your f-fucking babies, Tenna- ah- Tens.” 

“Spamton- oh- oh Angel you- my- fu-u-uu-ck-“ The curse glitched past his censors as it left Tennas mouth, static electrifying the air. “You- what- Spammy, why are you-”

His hips stuttered as Spamtons words branded his thoughts, burning him from the inside out. Spamton- the same darkner who wouldn’t let Tenna kiss him during sex for weeks, the man who had told Tenna to not get too attached, that this was just a fling, who had built a wall so big even he couldn’t see over it- was begging him for this? Tenna knew he shouldn’t indulge him- Spamton was obviously in some delirious state- though, as selfish as it was, he was finding it increasingly hard to resist. 

Tenna couldn’t help being a sentimental person, it was just in his nature. He craved care and affection, and though he’d been enjoying their intimate get-togethers, deep down, he wanted more. He wanted Spamton to want him like Tenna wanted him. He wanted Spamton to love him. 

Until then, he couldn’t burden the addison with something like this. He had to control himself, or Spamton would never forgive him. Tenna would never forgive himself.

“Why- why you fuckin’- ah- thinkin’ so hard T-Tens?” Tenna slowed his pace, caught off guard by Spamtons ever so perceptive instincts, even in this state. He lifted the hand from his neck so Spamton could turn his head to the side, droopy eyes unfocused, lips slightly open as he caught his breath. He hadn’t even needed to see Tenna to know that he was overthinking something. “C-come on big guy- out with it. I gotta cum.”

Spamton shallowly moved on Tennas length, unable to completely suppress his instincts, the heat acting on its own agenda. Tenna tenderly ran a hand down Spamtons back, smoothing his feathers, happy to just be here with him. As much as he wanted a family, a life, with Spamton, it just wasn’t in the cards for them. He knew he shouldn't think about him like that, shouldn’t daydream, but…

“Spamton,” he hesitated, pulling out of the addison completely. Spamton whined, trying to move back, to fill himself, but Tenna stopped him, a nervous pout on his screen. “Spamton, I need to know that this isn’t just some heat of the moment urge you’re acting on.” He swallowed, wringing his hands in front of him. “I, um- Angel Spamton, are you listening? You look so, um, how do I even say this?”

Spamton grinned, wiggling his hips. “Do I look pretty, Mister Tenna?”

“Oh, oh god, Spamton-” Tenna choked, dick twitching. Good to know he hadn’t ruined the mood completely. “Yes, you look- um, beautiful. So, so beautiful.”

Spamton felt his face flush as he momentarily sobered up, the sentimentality of Tennas tone cracking his psyche, the unexplored, frightening part of himself shining through. His grin faltered, hips coming to a slow as a new kind of warmth trickled into him. One that he’d felt before- that he’d shoved away, tried not to think about. 

It was always Tenna that brought out this yucky, tender side of him. The side that had him thinking about the future, about getting ready in the morning with someone at his side, talking about his day over dinner, not drinking alone every night. Not drinking alone ever again. Fuck was it scary- terrifying, even- but maybe, just maybe, with Tenna, it wouldn’t have to be. 

“Tens, I- um,” He felt unravelled, defenseless. His eyes drifted down, unable to look directly at Tenna in fear that he wouldn’t be able to say what he wanted to say. Did he want to say it? Never in his life had he felt this close to someone, this vulnerable. Sex, yes. Emotions? No. Nada. He’d been screwed over too many times to count, and putting himself in a situation like this was the ultimate gamble. He glanced back at Tennas screen, a patient smile plastered across it, pink tinting his cheeks. It was just Tenna. He trusted Tenna. There was a reason it had been Tenna making him feel this way. 

“Spammy, I-”

“Tens-”

They spoke at the same time, the pair laughing breathily as Tenna started again, no hesitation, no doubt. 

“I love you, Spamton.”

The addison felt tears well in his eyes, throat constricting. Before he could wimp out, he turned around to face Tenna, standing on his knees, pulling him into a gentle kiss.

“I love you too, Tens. Sorry I’m, uh, probably not too good at showin’ it.” Spamton knelt back down, sitting on his legs, a shaky smile gracing his lips. “I um, think I’ve loved you for a while now.” 

Tenna laughed giddily, pulling Spamton to his face again, happy tears trailing down his face- down both of their faces. 

“Hah, sorry if I got you soft, big guy.” Spamton muttered, Tenna pressing chaste kisses to his face, cheeks squished together in his large hands. “Don’t think it’s p-possible for me to really calm down right now, hah. Think you’re up to, uh, continuing where we left off?”

Spamton sucked in a breath as Tenna pulled his face up and captured his mouth once again, thick tongue squirming down his throat telling him that yes, Tenna was raring to go, maybe even more now. Spamton felt the heat return instantly, vision blurring, cunt producing more slick, reminding him of how close he’d been until they were (happily) interrupted. 

Tenna brought a hand down to Spamtons aching heat, sinking a digit into the wetness as he pulled Spamton onto his lap, chest against chest this time, their bodies falling backwards against the cushions. 

“Y-you fuckin’ grew?!” Spamton groaned as his body jolted at the intrustion, Tennas finger feeling far bigger than it should have.

“What’d you expect Spammy?” Tenna mewled, stretching the addison even further, preparing him for the extra length. “You know I’m a sucker for romance.”

Tenna worked his finger in and out at a torturous pace, adding a second one once he felt like he wouldn’t hurt the smaller darkner. He held the addison up by his ass, Spamtons entrance hovering just above his aching cock as he tested his own patience. At this size he really would hurt Spamton, so he took his sweet time, bending his fingers forward, earning a needy gasp every time he curled them the way his mailman liked. 

“F-feels good, Tens-” He braced himself against Tennas chest as a third finger breached his pussy, working him into the spell he’d been under just minutes before. The want- no, need- to be fucked covered him like a blanket, tainting every thought, every impulse, until he was nothing more than a moaning mess.

“Almost there, you’re doing so good.” Tenna rumbled, Spamton watching his dick as it twitched, a bead of pre forming at its tip. He wanted to lick it up, wanted the sweet taste of Tenna on his tongue. As he was, though, all he could do was want, his body paralyzed by pleasure. 

Tenna thrusted his fingers in and out a few more times before drawing back, positioning Spamton closer to the head of his cock.

“Spammy, you listening?” He breathed, head hanging over the addisons shoulder. 

Spamton nodded desperately, trying his best to focus on Tennas words. He wanted to be good. He loved Tenna, and Tenna loved him. All he wanted was to please him. 

“Good.” Tenna lowered Spamton just a smidge, enough to feel the wet folds against him, beckoning him inside. “I know it’s a lot right now, but if it hurts, you need to tell me.”

Spamton nodded again, half comprehending the words. He knew Tenna was big, maybe too big now, but he was flexible. He was an addison after all- they were built to take a beating. 

Satisfied with the nonverbal affirmation, Tenna lowered Spamton slowly, sinking himself into that tight heat again, questioning how he was able to stop in the first place. He deserved a fucking medal. 

“Yeeessssss-” Spamton cried, body tense, toes curling. 

“You’ve gotta relax for me Spammy-” Tenna grunted, panicked, feeling Spamtons walls constrict around him. It didn’t hurt- no- the opposite in fact. If the addison was going to be this tight, he wasn’t going to last more than a few seconds. 

Thankfully, he felt Spamton ease up, feathers settling as he took a deep breath, a shuddering sigh brushing against the side of Tennas chassis. He was leaning on his shoulder as Tenna held him by the hips, head still raised high, but not for long, he figured. 

“Good, good job.” Tenna gave Spamtons ass a squeeze as he continued pulling him down, watching as he was taken, one inch at a time, impossibly deep- and he was only halfway in. He could already see Spamtons stomach forming around him, making him look even smaller than he already was. This addison was going to ruin him.

“T-Tenna, oh my- fuh- fuckin’, you-you’re so- goddamnit Tens-” Spamton was almost laughing, delirious, focusing all his strength on just keeping his body relaxed. This motherfucking bastard, not big enough already? What was he, some sort of glorified fleshlight?

“I-I know, Spammy. Just- oh- just a little more-” Tenna lied through his teeth, velvety soft warmth caressing him, drawing him in. 

Spamtons dick writhed, getting slick all over Tennas stomach, not that either of them cared. Tennas body was like a live wire- anywhere it touched lit aflame, like the TV himself was shocking him. In him, around him, on him- it didn’t matter, as long as it was Tenna.

“Damn b-boob tube, fuck- you really did grow, h-huh?”

Spamton felt full, ridiculously full, and he hadn’t felt the base of Tennas cock yet- hadn’t felt his hips plugging him up, telling him that there was no more to take. Instead, Tenna just kept drawing him down, stretching him wider, like his dick wasn’t the size of Spamtons fucking torso. The addison sucked in a sharp breath as Tennas hips jerked up out of his control, a wrecked noise escaping his throat as he sank ever deeper. Part of Spamton wanted to yell at Tenna, wanted to beg him to shrink, but the other part- the louder part- of him, wanted to prove that he could do this. 

He could feel Tennas dick hitting his cervix again, prodding at the tight ring of muscle, begging for permission to enter. The CRT just whimpered, holding Spamton tight against his chest, testing whether or not he could keep going. Whether Spamton would tell him to stop. 

Spamton did not. 

With a harsh tug, the head of his fat cock breached that final obstacle, Spamton squirming and babbling nonsense as Tenna just held him there, sheathed completely, his hot breaths puffing against the addisons back. 

“Spamton, o-oh, Spammy, I-” Tenna panted, locking them both in place as the addison tried to adjust, stretched beyond capacity. “You- this- mmm, so, so good. I love you Spammy, a whole lot- I-I wish- ah- been wanting to, mm, say that for s-so long.”

Tenna softly caressed his back, nuzzling his shoulder, smiling against his feathers. The boob tube was so damn happy, which, yeah, was nice and dandy, but he’d just jammed himself so far into Spamton that he was seeing stars. He could feel his distended stomach pressing against Tennas, the bulge much bigger than usual, and oh fuck did it feel mind numbingly wonderful.

“Ah, l-love you cathode.” Spamton grunted, drool spilling onto Tennas shoulder. “N-now move.”

He felt Tenna laugh breathily before he lifted the addison, just barely, testing to see if he really was ready. It felt as though Spamtons cunt was trying to pull him back in before he’d even left, his tight wet heat enticing him to just stay buried inside. As tempting as that was, his mailman had just asked him so nicely to move, and after such a loving confession, how could he refuse? 

He pulled almost halfway out before sinking back in, letting the soft warmth twitching around him guide his movements, determined to put Spamtons needs before his own. He clenched his jaw as he watched Spamtons tail flit back and forth- a sure sign he was enjoying himself. 

Go slow.

The words replayed in his mind, a mantra he repeated to remind himself he had to stay focused, stay calm. He brought Spamton down once again, the addison finally letting his head fall forward, limp on Tennas shoulder.

Slow.

He was doing good, staying in control. 

That was, until Spamton opened his cocky mouth.

“Holdin’ back on me, b-big guy?” His mailman tittered, trying to hide the struggle in his voice. Even like this- skewered on Tennas massive length, covered in slime and sweat, body trembling and slack- he wanted more. Always more. Whether he was at work or in bed, he could never be satisfied. That was probably one of the reasons Tenna why was so fond of him. 

The TV darkner picked up the pace, the rhythmic slap of Spamtons ass smacking against Tennas lap loud as anything, their ragged breathing mingling with the hot air occupying the room. Everything was overwhelming- nonstop chatter escaping Spamton as he begged Tenna to mate him, to fuck him harder. The feeling of the small addison in his hands, the way he just let go, knowing Tenna would make him feel good. His, his, his. Tenna felt so big, so proud, knowing that he had gotten such a frigid man to lower his defenses, to trust Tenna with his body, his soul. 

Tenna was close- embarrassingly, just thinking about Spamton was enough to get him off- but having him like this, all heat and want… he had known from the start he wasn’t going to last long. Spamton was almost vibrating around him, obviously reaching his own release, his small fingers clutching Tennas silicon skin as his dick writhed against their bodies, pinned. Tenna was going to be thinking about this for weeks.

“M’ gonna c-ah cum-” Spamton gasped, slurring his words so heavily Tenna was surprised he had actually understood. “Wan’ ya to- fuck T-Tens-”

“I know S-Spammy.” Tenna stuttered, losing his own grip on reality. He wrapped one of his arms fully around his mailman, fingers locking in his tousled hair, “I- hah- I’ll fill you up, n-nice and d-fu-deep-” 

Tenna growled, his cock twitching as he came, hips lifting to bury himself as deep as possible, shooting rope after rope of cum into Spamtons cervix. The addison quickly tumbled over his own edge, the feeling of Tennas hot release ripping a cry from his throat as he succumbed to his instincts, a series of chirps and warbles accompanying the white hot pleasure. He felt whole- Tenna holding him like he was everything, whispering soft praises into his ear as his orgasm continued to tear through him, wave after wave of crushing satisfaction leaving him breathless. Tenna just let him ride it out, unmoving, tender touches encouraging him to just let it happen, that this was good. That Spamton had done good. 

His chest felt warm as he started to come down, gentle words and careful fingers at the forefront of his senses, along with an uncomfortable, sticky feeling dripping down his legs. Gross.

“Fuck Tens, that was, that was-”

Tenna gave him a quick peck on his lips, cutting him off. Pink tinted his screen as he giggled slyly, either ignoring or straight up not noticing the disgusting mess all over them. A flower had bloomed from his nose at some point- a pretty red thing that smelled like perfume. It didn’t do shit to mask the smell of sex suffocating the room. 

“Spammy, you make me so happy.” Tenna squeezed the addison again, a squeak escaping him as the air left his lungs. “I really do love you.”

Spamton wheezed as Tenna released him, plucking the flower from his nose and sticking it behind the mailmans ear. Spamton rolled his eyes, a seemingly permanent grin stuck to his mouth. 

“I love you too, big guy, but could you please pull out so we can clean up? We smell like shit.”

-

“So, about the whole breeding thing…”

They had taken a long, wasteful shower, Spamton grateful that the heat that had been pestering him all day had finally seemed to retreat. He felt like himself again- minus his bloated stomach and sore body. Dealing with those, though, was better than being ravenously horny. 

“It’s something that comes from your organic instincts, right?”

Spamton blinked, staring incredulously at Tenna, who was whistling naively as he collected feathers from the filthy couch, holding them as though they were a bouquet of roses. 

“What- How the fuck do you know that?” Spamton jabbed an accusatory finger at the TV from the large office chair that occupied the room, sitting up straight as he waited for an answer. 

Tenna laughed, only half facing the addison as he responded, staring at a white feather between his fingers. 

“I’m a TV, I know things.” He grinned as Spamton blushed, mouth clamped shut. “You know, there was a time before Toriel turned on my parental lock. Back then, I had access to so much-”

“Angel Tenna, I get it!” Spamton shouted, Tenna snickering as he bent down once again, plucking up another feather. “Seriously, though. Thanks.” Spamton spoke low, almost mumbling, not used to hearing anything genuine come from his own mouth- at least, not like this. 

“I should be thanking you, my little mailman!” Spamton bristled at the nickname, frowning. Tenna didn’t notice. “I was shocked you took me at that size! Very impressive, if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah, it was fuckin’ impressive.” Spamton grumbled, leaning back in the chair, arms crossed. “Don’t get used to that shit though. Can’t have you splitting me in half every time we fuck.”

“Aww, really?” Tenna teased, turning to face Spamton. “Are you sure? Because you really seemed to like it, judging by the way you were begging for more.”

Spamton felt his face redden, his mouth suddenly very dry. 

“I’ll have you know that my instincts were doing that, not me.”

“Were your instincts also making you tell me how much you love me?” There was a hint of insecurity twisting through Tennas tone. 

“That-!” Spamton stuttered, clearing his throat. “That was different. They might’ve helped, but what I said is true.” He closed his eyes, avoiding returning Tennas expectant gaze. For having no eyes, the guy sure knew how to put pressure into a stare. “I really do l-love you, cathode.” The L word still stuck to his tongue, awkward in its delivery. Even so, he got it out. He’d said it- not under the influence of his bird brain, or insanely good sex. He’d just… said it. “I may not be very good at doing that romantic crap you like so much, and I may disappoint you when it comes to affection, and I’m not very good at wording things correctly, but…”

When he cracked his eyes open, Tennas screen filled his vision, a sappy smile on his face. 

“I love you too, Spamton.”