Tenna Bone Zone

this man calls you his spouse, his beloved, his better half, his one and only, his darling, his dearest, his love, his partner, his other half, his home. my wife / my husband / my spouse, and he says it with so much pride in his voice at parties that strangers come up to you later and say they have never seen anyone so in love.

he wants you to call him husband all the time, in every context, and this is not a request. he wants to hear it when you are half asleep and mumbling, he wants to hear it when you are cross with him about leaving his ties on the sofa again because god forbid this man hang up a single item of clothing, and he wants to hear it when he is inside you making you shake and claw at his back. “husband, Tenna, husband, please,” honestly, you could ask him for anything in that moment and he would give it to you. the word lives in your mouth now and he put it there. “my husband will handle that / my husband is picking me up / my husband and i were just talking about that,” and he has to physically restrain himself from dragging you into the nearest broom closet to show you exactly how much he appreciates it.

the first time you wear a ring or even just let him refer to you as his fiancé or his spouse in public, forget it. he will barely make it through the door before he is on you, “say it again, sugar, just say you're mine, say you went and made an honest man outta me... please, i ain't too proud to beg, y'know.” indulge him and he will sob while burying himself inside you, thanking you over and over for the privilege of being allowed to call you his. incredibly romantic OR incredibly pathetic depending on your tolerance for men who cry during sex.

Tenna actually develops a fixation on you wearing his ring. every time he sees it on your finger he gets a little dizzy with want as though he has not seen it every single day since you put it on. he will lift your hand to his mouth and kiss the ring. then your knuckles, your palm, your wrist, working his way up, and by the time he reaches your elbow you are already pulling him toward the bedroom, or the sofa, or the floor, wherever is closest. this happens approximately four times a week

when Tenna is home before you he puts on the apron over his suit, rolls up his sleeves, and gets to work. he refuses to cook without looking put together, because this man has an image to maintain even when there is nobody around to see it except you, and you have already married him. he greets you at the door with a wooden spoon in his hand, bright and expectant, “welcome home, darling, goodness! your timing is perfect!! guess what? the sauce is almost ready and i need you to taste it,” and kisses you hello before dragging you into the kitchen by the hand like because oh no, the sauce will expire if you do not taste it immediately. BUT if you come up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, that is it, he is done for, screen going all fuzzy as he leans back into your touch like a cat. press a kiss to the back of his neck and watch this grown television burn the food because he is too distracted by how loved he feels. the smoke alarm is basically a timer now

either way, the whole scene is so disgustingly domestic that you want to drop to your knees right there on the linoleum. and the thing is, Tenna would let you, but first he makes you taste the sauce from and watches your face with genuine anxiety. after all your opinion on his cooking is the most important review he has ever received, and if you tell him it is good! his whole screen goes pink, “oh golly, you .. you really think so? you are not just saying that, right?”

you have to reassure him. he is a good cook and he still needs to hear it every single time. Tenna preens under the praise and then without warning switches gears so fast it could give you whiplash, leaning in with a grin, “i would let you eat off me, you know. i would lie on this table and let you have your dinner right off my chest if you wanted-- just kidding!!”

the man can cook. Tenna learned because he wanted to be able to provide, the idea of you coming home from a long day and him being able to put a hot meal in front of you makes him feel like he is fulfilling some deep purpose. he experiments with recipes. he wants to be useful, to be needed, he wants to be the reason you come home smiling. cooking is just one way he shows it. the other ways involve his mouth in significantly less culinary contexts.

he insists on being the one to cook most nights even after long broadcasts. it is how he decompresses, how he shows love, and he learns your comfort meals and makes them when you have had a hard day without you even having to ask. he plates everything beautifully because presentation matters to him even in domestic settings, which means your wednesday night dinner looks like it came from a restaurant, and if you do tell him his cooking is better than any restaurant he will ride that high for a month. he will bring it up in conversation with people who did not ask.

he wants to pack your lunch for work, insists on it actually, wakes up early even when he does not have a broadcast just to make you something to take with you. little notes, “you are the ratings champion of my heart,” “your husband loves you,” and if you ever mention that your coworkers saw the note he will be insufferable about it for days. he will ask if you told them who packed it. he will ask if they thought it was romantic. he will ask if anyone else's spouse packs them lunch with personalised notes.

but Tenna wants to be greeted at the door too on the days you get home before him. he wants the full fantasy, you calling out honey is that you and him shouting back it's me sweetheart i'm home! and then you appearing in the hallway and Tenna scooping you up into his arms, spinning you around, your laughter booming through the flat while he peppers kisses across your face. this man has watched too many old movies and internalised every single one of them.

grocery shopping as a date, Tenna takes it so seriously. he pushes the trolley and lets you sit in it if you want. so what if you are a full grown adult? Tenna's huge and the trolley looks comically small next to him, just have fun! he lets you lead the way through the aisles, and keeps sneaking your favourite snacks into the cart when he thinks you are not looking. “whatever do you mean, starshine, those must have jumped in there themselves!”

Tenna wants to make love all over the house and in every single room, hell, on the floor if the mood strikes. and ideally you are still wearing your ring and his jacket while he does it, the whole house filling up with your sighs, your gasps and your declarations of love while Tenna gives you the softest sex imaginable, so gentle and tender it aches. but by the end he loses his mind from how much he loves you and he's practically fucking you through the mattress, the headboard knocking against the wall, neither of you caring one bit. though, if you really want to spend money on new furniture, just stroke his screen and tell him you want to make him a father, confess to him that you want to become a parent, and watch him absolutely shatter, watch him whimper and fuck you with everything he has, because you just handed him his deepest fantasy on a silver platter and he is going to spend the rest of the night trying to make it come true.

you will need that new furniture after all.

tender sex in your shared bed, the one you picked out together, the one with the sheets you both liked after an embarrassingly long debate in the bedding aisle. on the nightstand there is a photo from your wedding day, Tenna would put wedding photos in every room if you let him. you keep catching glimpses of it with your blurry unfocused eyes while you lie flat on your stomach, which is not easy to do when Tenna is draped over you from behind, thrusting into you deep, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you back onto him. one of his hands plants itself on the mattress right beside your head, his arm blocking your view of the wedding photo but replacing it with something just as good, arguably better, the sight of his broad fingers splayed against the sheets and the wedding ring sitting there on his finger. the one he has never taken off. you turn your head just enough to press a kiss to that ring, and feel his cock jerking inside you in response, a surprised little twitch that makes him whimper your name against your neck. at this point the ring is a button you can press, and you press it often.

Tenna wants to argue about whose turn it is to take the bins out and then fuck you over the kitchen counter as an apology for being dramatic about the bins. this is how conflict resolution works in your household now. alternatively, Tenna lifts you onto the counter, pushing your thighs apart and kissing down your neck while the pasta water boils over on the stove. neither of you notices until the smoke alarm goes off. and then you are both laughing, coughing and fanning with a dish towel while Tenna's apron is askew as he looks at you with the most lovesick expression. the apron comes off eventually, but sometimes he leaves it on during, and that is a whole different experience. you swear you can hear the strings coming undone in the back while he fucks into you.

Tenna wants to fold your underwear fresh from the dryer and feel his heart crack open and leak out of his chest because these are... your things? in his laundry basket? in his home? and you trust him with them?

a shared calendar stuck to the fridge with TV logo magnets. Tenna writes things on it such as DATE NIGHT!!! YOUR WORK EVENT (DON'T WORRY I WILL BE CHARMING). ANNIVERSARY (I LOVE YOU).

he wants to match with you. pyjamas, outfits, anything. if you wear a red tie he wears a red tie. if you have a silly christmas jumper he will get one too and insist on a photo. he wants the world to see you together and know immediately that you belong to each other. he wants to be one of those couples that finishes each other's sentences and wears coordinated outfits and shares a dessert at restaurants. he is not embarrassed by how much he loves you, but it might be a little embarrassing for everyone else.