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Tenna was always so, so… careful.
He had to be, of course. He was massive, easily fifteen feet tall at his full height, with claws that tended to unsheathe in moments of heightened emotion and fangs easily as big as one of Spamton’s hands. So he thought it was a fairly understandable concern that he’d tear his partner to shreds if he wasn’t exceedingly, overly, annoyingly careful.
He didn’t mind- not really, anyways. It was absolutely worth it for the sake of Spamton’s safety and comfort. And also so he wouldn’t start seeing him as some sort of danger, or threat, or something he had to get away from, someone he had to leave behind, and then he’d be alone, and…
Yeah. Better to spend sex trying to stay perfectly in control of every one of his reactions. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about any of that.
Much.
But damn was it hard when Spamton had a handful of wires tangled between staticky fingers, cock standing at attention between his legs and perfectly at Tenna’s eye-level from where he sat low on his open chest, a smirk crinkling the corners of eyes that never left his overheating screen.
“Come on, [CRT]. You aren’t going to [Always finish first!]”
Tenna just whined as way of response, his claws digging into the couch he’d likely have to have Mike reupholster soon. For the third time that week.
“What, you don’t think you can [last longer in bed!]”
“Can’t help it…” Tenna panted out, fans whirring just as hard as he was breathing. “You’re… You’re…”
“Use your [freedom of speech], Tens,” Spamton prodded. There was a lilting drawl to his voice as he spoke that could’ve convinced Tenna to do just about anything.
And he did try, he really did. But before he could get anything proper out, Spamton had hooked two fingers beneath a particularly deep wire and gave it a little tug, almost sending him over the edge on the spot, and damn was he glad he was able to curse offstage.
“Now that’s [not] very [family friendly entertainment]. What would the censors think?”
Tenna’s head fell forward onto Spamton’s shoulder, static crackling between his screen and electric skin.
“Damn, you’re [hot singles in your area]. We’ve gotta clean your fans after this.”
“That would be… Nice… Oh f-fuck, Spammy…”
“You really like those [that’s the good spot], huh?”
“Y... yes…”
“Then [let’s see what these can really do].”
One final hard yank sent Tenna over the edge, electricity shocking through every part of his body and turning his screen to a rapid succession of random clips interspersed with static. He wasn’t aware of the sounds that were coming out of his mouth, and it wasn’t until a few seconds later that he realized that there was a static on his tongue that wasn’t usually present. It also tasted oddly… metallic?
Another wave of shock – the emotional kind this time – hit him as he realized he had Spamton’s entire shoulder in his mouth, one fang buried inside of it.
The second he recognized what was happening, he jerked up and back, his head hitting the back of the sofa.
Spamton was staring at him with a slightly open mouth and uncharacteristically wide eyes, seemingly frozen in place. There was an obvious bite mark on his shoulder, red blood slowly flowing over pure white skin from where he’d clearly broken it.
The first thought that occurred to him at the sight was that the flowing crimson contrasting the electric white was likely one of the most erotic sights he’d seen in his life. The second was less a coherent thought and more of an immediate backlash to the first, a sickening wave of horror and guilt flooding in to sit right beside the stubborn arousal that he really wished would drown under it instead.
This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t- No. No, he wouldn’t hurt his partner intentionally, wouldn’t put him at risk. What kind of sick man would do such a thing, let alone get enjoyment out of it? No, that wasn’t him. Even if the metallic taste on his tongue was oddly intoxicating, and there was a certain thrill to it that was sending buzzing electricity through him- No, that wasn’t enjoyment. That was just… Fuck, he could figure out what it was later. After he fixed this. Somehow.
“Sp-Spam? Spamton, I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to- I mean, I didn’t mean- It’s okay, we can put pressure on it and I’ll call the set medic, and- Please don’t leave, I’m so, so sorry, I’ll do anything you need, I’m sor-”
“-Can you [do that] again?”
Tenna froze at the sudden interruption, staring at Spamton as he tried to process what had just been said. The Addison’s expression hadn’t changed. Bafflingly, neither had his raging hard-on.
“Could… Could you repeat that? I don’t think I heard…”
“I’m asking for a [repeat performance], Cathode.”
“You’re not… mad?”
“Why would I- Okay, [ask stupid questions]. I’m not mad.”
“...Why?”
“Because it’s [read sexy secrets], Tens. Obviously.”
Tenna didn’t think it was obvious, but Spamton’s signature confidence had reappeared in his voice, and he knew better than to question it too much.
“Do you… need medical attention first?”
“Nah, I’ll [all-natural healing] quick. Besides, red’s definitely my color, right? Thought we [came to an agreement] about that.”
That conversations had been about suit jackets, not… whatever the hell this was. But he wasn’t about to argue. Partially because where the hell would he even start, and partially because he was right. The blood seemed to be just as electric as he was, and emitted a low crackling as it trickled down the outline of his body. The contrast in colors was a gorgeous sight as well, with the vibrant red standing out against the stark, glowing white.
The guilt at finding the sight attractive was really only matched by his arousal.
“So you’re not-”
“Tenna. [Bite me],” Spamton ordered, tugging sharply on a wire near the base of Tenna’s neck as if it were a leash.
Tenna gave a gasping moan at the feeling, his head lurching forward in response to the action. He found himself level with Spamton’s good shoulder, and ever so gently gently placed one of his fangs on the edge of it. Another sharp tug did away with any remaining reservations and he bit down hard.
It was rare to hear Spamton properly moan. He would pant and dirty talk, sure, but he liked to stay in control of the situation, and that seemed to extend to the noises he made as well. Even when he came, the most Tenna would get was a low groan, although he was usually too preoccupied with the sight and feeling of accomplishment to mind much.
So when he bit his shoulder and Spamton cried out, followed by a sound like a glitching moan, it made something in Tenna spark to life, and all the hesitation evaporate in an instant.
He cupped Spamton’s back with one hand to hold him in place as he pulled back to lap at the blood, savoring the crackling feeling on his tongue that so perfectly complimented the metallic taste. Spamton was panting heavily, gripping the wire he’d jerked just a second ago in his fist.
“[Again].”
He didn’t even have to say the whole word before Tenna was biting down again, feeling the light pop of skin breaking beneath his teeth and the blood flowing into his mouth. As he did, claws unsheathed, some burying themselves in Spamton’s hip. He was met with another moaning cry leaving the smaller man’s mouth, this time accompanied by a litany of curses and a few instances of his partner’s name.
As Spamton swore and called out Tenna’s name like a prayer, he felt sparks of his cum painting his wires, practically sizzling where they spilled. A soft whimper escaped the CRT at the sensation, and he pulled back to get a good look at him, drinking it in with the thirst of a man parched.
The expression he was wearing was probably the closest he’d seen to pure ecstasy, looking like he’d almost transcended. His chin was tilted up, his dyed-black hair now totally loose from the bonds of its usual gel, and his eyes were closed, but not screwed up as tightly as they usually tended to be. His face glowed with a slight flush, and his mouth hung open in a way that made Tenna think he might not be entirely capable of closing it right then. His breath was coming in heavy, uneven pants, and the glow on face had shifted to a near pink.
Dropping his gaze lower, he took a moment to watch as the electric blood slowly trickled down his glowing body, both from his shoulder and punctured hip. A bit had trickled down his now-spent cock, and it was leaking into his exposed wires in a way that probably should’ve concerned him significantly more than it did. Honestly, concern was a very far second to a sort of erotic fascination with the sight, as well as the steady pulse of arousal traveling through his inner mechanisms.
Seeming to notice that his motions had stilled, Spamton cracked open one eye, then flashed Tenna a cocky grin that only complimented his bloodied state. And then with one languid twist of his wrist, he yanked his held wires hard enough to pull Tenna’s head back in and send him toppling over the edge for the second time that night.
As he came, his body writhing against the couch, he found himself desperately lapping up the blood on his shoulder. Loud cries and moans of Spamton’s name mixed themselves in with the action, slightly muffled by his body.
Eventually he managed to come back to reality, panting heavily against Spamton’s body, his mouth coated with a buzzing electricity blood dripping from his screen. Soft whimpers were still escaping him from time to time as he came down from the high.
With all the languid ease that came with most of his actions, Spamton carefully removed Tenna’s claws from his side, then took the opportunity to raise his hand to his mouth and lick a bit of the blood off the sharp tip of one of them. Tenna caught a glimpse of it in his peripheral, and for a moment, he had the somewhat hazy thought that it was a sight he’d want to see more.
But just for a moment.
Because following those few long seconds, Tenna found himself struck by a sudden bout of clarity.
No.
No no no no no.
How could he have done that to his partner? How could he do that to someone he loved? He’d hurt him, injured him in a way he’d sworn he never would, and now he was lying on his hand a bloodied mess, and- What kind of decent person could’ve done such a thing? He felt incredibly unwell, and honestly, he probably deserved that feeling after what he’d done to Spamton. And Spamton – how could he expect him to so much as look at him after all that? Oh fuck, fuck, he was going to leave him wasn’t he, he was going to leave him and he’d never see him again, and-
“Hey, [ten dollars off]?” Spamton spoke, suddenly jerking Tenna out of his own head. Before he could start with the onslaught of apologies, he continued, “You need to [do that] more often.”
He flashed him a grin that Tenna returned with a puzzled look.
“You’re not mad?”
Spamton returned the glance with an expression that implied he was questioning his observational skills.
“I just… You’re injured, and-”
“I’m fine. [Get rid of ads] is impossible. I’ll be around forever.”
“You-”
“Tens. I told you I [instant heals].”
“Then why are you still covered in blood?”
“Because it’s [sexy singles near you].”
The two stared at each other for a moment before Tenna let out a relieved sigh. He still felt slightly unwell, but the reassurance did help a lot.
“So you’re really okay?”
Spamton just stared at him.
“Right, right, stupid question, I know. Just… Tell me one more time, please?”
“...I’m okay. [Guaranteed or your money back!] Watch.”
Tenna did, watching as one of the wounds on his shoulder grew a bit pixelated and indistinct, then disappeared altogether, leaving only a clear spot in smeared blood as evidence of the injury.
“See, [Tens]? I’m [a-okay!]” He gave him another grin, and Tenna finally returned it with a little smile of his own.
“Alright. ...You know I love you, right?”
“Of course. Got the [leave your mark] to prove it.” He paused, the silence hanging for a moment before he added on “…and I love you too, [Cathode].”
Tenna relaxed a little bit at that. “And you’re not going to leave?”
“[Hyperlink blocked] Tens, how many [Times New Roman] do I have to tell you I enjoyed it?”
“I’m just checking.”
“...[No refunds]. I’m not going to [leave a like].”
“Promise?”
“I [promise].”
Tenna figured that was good enough reassurance, at least for now. Besides, Spamton was closing up his chest and flopping down onto it, soaking in the warmth of his body as he usually did, and didn’t seem to be showing signs of wanting to leave.
As Spamton got comfortable, he rolled his tongue across the roof of his mouth, tasting the last of the blood. Maybe… maybe he’d think about what he’d said about doing it more often.
Maybe.