Work Text:
Tenna was not having a good evening. The show went as well as usual. The contestants were lovely, the audience was lively, but the prep for next week was being… difficult. Script writing was not coming to him as easily as it normally did. His hands, usually typing nimbly on his typewriter, were stock still. Many scrunched balls of paper were overflowing from his trash bin, threatening an avalanche that would cover his floor. He can’t help but put the blame on his partner, Spamton, the asshole.
He means that literally. He couldn’t stop thinking about his ass.
The day had started normally enough. He was ordering everyone around, getting the stage set up for the day’s shows when Spamton barged in, two hours late, of course! Tenna wasn’t impressed. They only had an hour before showtime! He was going to scold the man in front of everyone when the words got twisted on his tongue.
His business partner was wearing the tightest pants he’d ever seen. They weren’t unlike his own, a pair of black spandex that shone under the lights. It’s just that they hugged the ad’s frame incredibly well. Too well. Tenna would know, he’d become rather familiar with it the past few weeks.
He managed to regain his composure just enough to scold him for a couple of precious minutes, minutes they could have spent getting the show ready, as he pointed out to his chronically laggard partner. Of course, Spamton didn’t care. He just smiled that damnedly hot grin of his and brushed him off, mentioning something about traffic, his hand waving at him in that offhanded way of his.
Then he turned around when one of the pippins asked him a question. This would be the beginning of Tenna’s undoing. Those pants… left nothing to the imagination. It was one of Spamton’s greatest secrets and Tenna’s greatest treasures. The guy had the nicest ass Tenna had ever seen. He’s certain if Spamton bent down, the outline of his crotch would be visible for everyone. It was absurd, how much it drove him wild. He’s not entirely sure what about it that he liked so much, just that he couldn’t get enough of it! And there it was, just out in the studio for everyone to see, the man’s juicy ass being squeezed tightly by the pants, their outline taunting Tenna. What he wouldn’t give to get somewhere private and just take a bite from it——
Tenna turned around then, taking some deep breaths, getting his fans to work overdrive. The last thing he needed was for steam to come out of his vents. Or for workplace gossip.
He was barely able to focus on getting the show up and running. He tried the best he could to talk with Elnina and Lanino, handing them their scripts for the weather forecast. He got the Shadowguys to assemble the live band, and Mike to give him some cough drops. It only was a temporary reprieve. It wasn’t his fault that Spamton wore what was the tightest pants he’d ever seen. So what if he kept sneaking little peeks at his business partner’s ass, it’s not like any of his employees are going to say anything! Spamton’s the only one who notices him when he does anyways.
No, what was really hard (well, ehem— maybe besides him…) was getting through Spamton’s ad reads.
He feels his internals heat up even thinking about it now. He swears Spamton was doing this on purpose, just to rile him up. How he’d keep putting a hand on his knee when talking to him off set, how he’d brush his shoulder past his leg when they’d switch from TV Time to ad readings, how his ass clenched while he was onstage, putting on a show for him and only him backstage. Or so he thought.
“Dude, who knew Spamton had such a dump truck!” “I know! Guy’s got a cake!” Two pippins passed by him, carrying set pieces for the next show. Tenna had to reel himself in from yelling at them. Only he can look at Spamton like that, HIM!
Before he could fire the Pippins for their comments, the segment ended and he had to go back on stage.
Cake. Who calls a butt cake???
He crosses his arms, steam coming out of his head. He looks at the clock on his desk. 10:00 pm. Looks like he’ll have to stay in the office tonight. Spamton hadn’t stopped by either. He guessed he’ll have to take care of himself.
Tenna palms at the seam of his pants, his dick half hard underneath. He’d put it on in case Spam dropped by but oh well. That man could really be so cruel sometimes.
Of course, that’s when Spamton His door opens and Spamton swaggers in. He swears the little mail man had a sixth sense for when he was turned on.
“Hey there, Tenna!”
“Hey there, Spammy, what brings you here?”
The CRT moves his hand away from his pant, trying to ignore his hard on. This becomes simultaneously impossible and easy when Spamton goes over to the cabinet. The man’s bending down in those- those- those shameless pants and getting the pull out bed out from it.
“Ah, you know.” He gestures his hand absentmindedly, glancing at Tenna from the side. “Had a little tooooo much battery acid. Thought I’d crash in here tonight.”
“O-oh, you did, now?” Tenna isn’t able to fight the way his voice cracks. He didn’t look drunk, at least not to him. He was walking steady, seemed as annoyingly perfect and endearingly arrogant as usual. Usually Spamton only drank hard when they were drinking together.
“Oooh yeah. You know how Ramb can be. I swear the guy gives out drinks like candy after a good show night.” He gets the bed to fold out. He shimmies onto it, Tenna fighting the urge to blush as Spamton’s ass once again manages to take up all his attention. Spamton grabs the blankets that fall out from the cabinet and lazily covers the mattress. He lays down, looking like one of those French girl drawings. He stares at Tenna, expectantly.
“You gonna come to bed or what, big guy? It’s 10 o’clock.”
This was how things normally started, at least as of a few weeks ago.
“I-I’d love to Spammy, really. I got to work on next week’s script.” Tenna points at the typewriter anxiously, for emphasis.
Spamton smirks. He slides off the bed gracefully and sidles to Tenna, placing a hand on his knee. “Oh? Is writing really more exciting than me?”
Tenna gulps, his screen already turning a light pink. “What? No!”
“Oh, I get it.” Spamton grabs Tenna’s tie and pulls him down to his eye level, his smirk turning sharp, the look in his eyes dangerous. “It’s a distraction.”
“H-Hey! You-You can’t-“ Tenna stammers, stumbling over his words. Spamton’s eyes shine mischievously, clearly enjoying himself.
“You can’t take your eyes off me? Oh trust me, I’ve noticed.”
Spamton, to Tenna’s horror, lets go of his tie, turns around and slaps his own ass, causing the fat to jiggle a bit from the impact. His mouth goes dry, his hands clenching the armrests hard enough to dent them. “Spamton! What are you doing!?“
The man shrugs, all confidence: “Demanding you to fuck me, what else?”
“Demanding!!?? I’M YOUR BOSS!!!” Tenna’s head is spinning. Since when could the little mailman do that???
Spamton saunters back to the bed and wags a finger at Tenna. “Ah ah ah! Business partner. And friend with benefits since a few weeks ago.” He pauses, sprawling himself out on the bed, before lifting an eyebrow to him: “in case you forgot.”
How could Tenna forget? They’d (well, okay. HE) made Spamton sign a contract after a very ~fun~ night on the town a few weeks ago. Tenna lays his head on a head, a big smile spreading on his face, reminiscing.
“Well, yeah. You did sign our contract~”
Spamton snorts, Tenna notes a light pink blush, which doesn’t melt his heart, thank you very much! “Well, do YOU remember what your own contract said?”
“Uhhh…”
Tenna tries to think back. He had written it in a mad haze after their first time, Spamton out cold in the hotel bed near the desk, staying up all night to make it. He had Spam sign it the second he woke up the next morning, then he passed out next to him before the ink was dry.
“Uh, Tens?”
Tenna jumps. Right! He was supposed to remember what was in the contract. He taps finger to his head, trying to jog his memory.
…He doesn’t remember what he wrote at all.
“No. I don’t remember at all.”
Spamton chuckles, shifting to his side. “I’ll remind you. As your friend with benefits, I hereby hold the rights to take you from work for (fun times had for all!) whenever you need a break.”
Tenna frowns. “That doesn’t sound like anything in the contract at all.”
Spamton sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “C’mon Tens! It’s late!” He stands up, his arms open to the air. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see you’re pent up! Can’t a guy want to shag his favorite-
His antenna perk up. Did he just… Spamton stops talking for a moment, his cheeks blushing. He looks caught, frozen for a brief moment before trying to put on the smug persona again.
“So, come over here, CRT.” Spamton curls his fingers back, ordering him to come hither. Tenna can’t help but think it’s cute, especially since he’s still blushing. Then again, that makes two of them. He wants a good time? They’ll have a good time.
He stands up, taking his time crossing the distance from his desk to the pull out bed. Spamton tries to grab at his tie to pull him for a kiss. He stops him, holding his arm in one hand while gently pushing him down onto the other. Tenna scrutinizes him, taking in the sight before him.
His hair splayed prettily on the bed. The dark color really did make him look good, making him stand out more. The red jacket hangs loose over Spamton’s shoulders, revealing the white skin on his neck. He looked down at the pants, the main course and found that his earlier suspicions were correct. The outline of his cock and pussy could be seen with how tight these pants were. And underneath them…
Tenna pounces on top of Spamton, unable to wait any longer. He grabs Spamton by his jacket in one hand and pulls him into a fierce kiss, his other hand holding Spamton’s head in place. Their lips war with each other, quickly steadying into a fast pace. Tenna quickly pushes his tongue to Spamton’s lips, who opens them for him, much to the tv’s glee. They both moan as their tongues dance and the kiss deepens, Tenna’s hand letting go of the jacket and moving to Spamton’s waist. They make out for a few beats before Spamton moans and pushes Tenna away.
“C’mon, Tens. I want you to fuck me already!”
Tenna smirks, a fang poking out as his screen darkens. “So impatient! Don’t you need more time?”
Spamton growls at him. “I’ve been wanting this all day! Get this shit off me!”
Tenna starts taking off the pants. He loved when Spamton got bossy in bed, he found it very cute. Still, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t tease him a little bit. He made sure to roll the pants down to his hips. He whistled, seeing the marks of the seams right below his belly button. He couldn’t stop himself pressing a kiss right there, making Spamton shiver underneath him. He kept going, pressing kisses across the pushed in skin, licking when he got close to his hip bones. Spamton eventually whined and started pressing his head lower. Tenna gets the message and fully pulls the pants off.
He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Spamton’s boxers were completely soaked. Drenched, even. He looks back up at Spamton in disbelief. He covers his eyes with an arm as he turns a dark shade of pink, which is becoming Tenna’s favorite color on him recently.
“I’ve been… waiting all day. So no prep needed.”
Tenna could feel himself drool at the sight. He loved eating Spamton’s pussy more than anything, sucking on his cock just as much! But…
He was in the mood to try something else.
“Oh, you look so appetizing right now, although… I’m thinking I want to taste something else tonight.”
“Huh?”
He gently grabs Spamton, who squawks in protest, and flips him over.
“Get on your knees, Spammy.”
The smaller man obeys, thrown off by having the reins taken from him. Tenna brings his hands to Spamton’s boxers and pulls them down. Spamton hisses as his dick and pussy meet the cool office air. Both organs were wet, ready to be pleased. Tenna ignores both of them, bringing his head closer to Spamton’s ass. The heat coming from his vents makes Spamton shiver under him.
“Ah, I see how it is. You wanted a slice of my cake?”
Tenna would roll his eyes if he could. He should’ve known it was some Cyber City term, and that Spamton was teaching it to his employees. The ad shifts underneath him, impatient.
“Well, the hell are you waiting for? I think you deserve a little dessert for all you’ve been doing recently.”
Tenna starts slow, peppering kisses first on Spamton’s left, then right ass cheek, worshipping every bit of skin he can. The skin here wasn’t indented with seams the way his waist was, but he’s sure it’s still sensitive from being trapped in such a tight space all day. He gently kneads his little mailman’s cheeks while holding him steady with his other hand. He nibbles a small bit, his fang scraping Spamton’s skin. The man gasps under him, loud: “Oh Fuck~”
Not wanting to stop, he takes a slightly larger bite, this elicits a moan from the little ad.
Oh, he wanted to hear that again.
Tenna bites down harder, the smaller man shuddering underneath him, trying to stifle him. He keeps biting him, leaving red marks, gently bandaging them a lick of the tongue or a press of lips.
“T-Tenna.”
Spamton looks wrecked under him. His hair, a bird’s nest, spit falling down his chin, his arms and legs shaking from the strain of staying up. He loved when he could break him down like this.
“Please-“
He opens up Spamton’s cheeks, finding his hole. He gives Spamton little warning as he presses his tongue to the muscle, the ad spazzing as he’s held in Tenna’s hand. He takes his time, enjoying the taste, a mix of musk and sweat dancing on his tongue. Spamton squirms under the attention. He starts licking his asshole quickly, applying more pressure.
“Oh FUCK. Tens, please, I need-“
Tenna grabs Spamton’s cock, the black head looking angry from being neglected, pre cum dripping down onto the mattress. He pumps it at a brutal pace, his partner keening in relief. He licks in time to his pumping. Tenna feels his cock twitch in his pants. He hadn’t realized how close he was getting.
“Fuck, TENS. I’M GONNA-“
Spamton glitches as he comes onto the bed sheets, screaming. Spamton writhing under him brings him over the edge, Tenna crumbles as his climax rakes through him.They ride their high until Tenna falls over. He manages to collapse next to Spamton and pulls him in, Spamton for once not complaining about being held.
“J-(Jesus, our lord and savior) Ant, that was incredible.” Spamton nuzzles into his chest. Tenna can’t stop himself from smiling or having a flower bloom from his nose.
“J-Jeez, Spam, you really think so?”
“Uh, yeah? That might’ve been the best sex we’ve had so far.” He looks him up and down. “You didn’t even take your clothes off.
“O-Oh!” Tenna’s face blacks out, only pink blush remaining. Spamton rolls his eyes, before bringing a hand to his head, rubbing his thumb in circles near his screen.
“You did good, CRT.”
Tenna keeps his screen black, only his smile appearing. He nuzzles closer to Spamton, wrapping his arms around him. Spamton’s eyes widen once their legs touch.
“Uh, babe. Did you wet yourself?”
“WHAT???”
Tenna jumps out of the bed. They both look down at his crotch. Spamton’s eyes bulge out of their sockets when he sees a large wet spot and thick outline in Tenna’s pants. “…You wore your dick today?”
Tenna’s grin turns wobbly, shuffling his legs back and forth. “…Maybe?”
Spamton’s smile becomes predatory, showing all his teeth.
“You know what? I think I’m ready for a round two.”