#deltaruin

So, Spamton rolls his shoulders, and hastens his pace to keep up with Tenna's long, fast strides, as they traverse the corridor. "You could always build a [[BRAND NEW]] set. A bigger stage, better [[Hit The Lights!]]! [[Half-Off]] of your crew still stuck around despite your [[Slimey]] mood. They might help [[Fixer Upper]] your [[Sad, Pathetic Life!]]." 

Tenna's scowl is unmissable. "Are you mocking me?" 

"No, no, no!" Spamton rushes to correct, tugging at the collar of his shirt. "Just a [[Never Before Seen Offer]] suggestion!" 

Slowly, Tenna's antennae droop, and he shrinks slightly. His stiff, defensive demeanor melts into something more meek and vulnerable, as he stands half the size he was previously (though still rather tall compared to Spamton). "Oh..." he breathes, and then scratches the side of his head. "Sorry. I just... I don't really want to think about the studio right now. A lot has happened that's been..." he turns to look at Spamton properly, staring at him for a solid few seconds, "difficult to adjust to. And moving here was one of those things." 

It's a castle, so it was beautiful. It was spacious, it was comfy, but it wasn't... home. Not the way his dressing room felt like home, or the way the stage felt like home, or the way visiting the bar after long shoots felt like home. 

Tenna stops suddenly, and Spamton stops too, noticing they're before a tall door, unmistakably Tenna's. 

"You look like you [[HAVE IT MADE]]," Spamton comments, as his fingers dig into his thin pants, rubbing his palms against the coarse material. There's a twang of jealousy that Tenna picks up on, but chooses not to address. 

Because Spamton has a point. Tenna could have ended up lost without his show. He could have ended up in the trash. 

He chooses not to agree, because he knows that he'd be mean about it if he does, and it already took a lot of begging to even get Spamton into Ralsei's castle in the first place. Their first (technically second) meeting after Tenna hosed him down with foam was more than stressful on both sides. But third time's the charm! 

He pushes his door open, and holds it that way for Spamton, who hesitantly trots inside. 

The inner contents are... disappointing. 

A lonely podium from Tenna's gameshow segments, a checkered floor, and a couch that looks so new Spamton's convinced Tenna got it today in preparation for Spamton's arrival. Though perhaps that was his own ego talking. Still, for a room as large as this one, its emptiness feels heavy, and the weight of everything causes Tenna to collapse on the settee the moment he's near it, face in his hands. 

With nothing else to do, Spamton joins him, head twitching slightly to the side as he sits an arm's length away. 

At first, neither of them do anything, with the awkward tension between them stifling both of their questions. Spamton's hands are restless in his lap, while Tenna's wrap tightly around his midsection, clinging to himself as he shrinks more and more with every passing second, until he's Spamton's size. 

It's when they're on that same level that Spamton finally clears his throat and asks - a bit louder than he intends - "why'd you [[YOU'RE INVITED]] me here, [[Trash-Heap]]?" he asks, before suddenly his head clicks to the side and he begins laughing wildly. It's inappropriate and sudden, and has Tenna recoiling in shock, before Spamton's hands are pushing themselves over his mouth. His laughing fit devolves into glitchy snickers, and then breathy coughs. When he settles, he can't meet Tenna's gaze. So instead, he mumbles out an apology so quietly that Tenna's unsure he actually said it. 

Tenna's hand reaches over the couch, but lands on the cushions just short of Spamton's body. "What was that?" 

Spamton, again, just utters an apology. "I can't [[CONTROL]] it." 

"The laughter?" 

"The [[EVERYTHING]]." 

Tenna only vaguely knows what Spamton means by everything, but he feels like he knows enough. Enough to understand that despite the strained smile Spamton's been wearing on his hollow jaw since they've reconnected, he's not happy in the slightest. 

"When did it start?" 

Spamton side-eyes Tenna, and turns to face him properly when he sees Tenna's body has shifted his direction. "I'm not sure exactly. [[There's A Chance]] it happened after I [[Left And Right]], or after I [[HELP!! HELP ME!!! IT BURNS!! OW!! IT BURNS!!!]]." Spamton's thumbs tap together slowly, as though he's trying to remember. He's always been more vocal about his advertisements than the other Addisons, to the point that the links interrupting his speech were ever present, but he knows they've gotten worse. He's gotten worse. 

Tenna's gloved fingers touching his face startle him so much he nearly launches off the couch. At this intense reaction, Tenna pulls away too, and shrinks further onto the couch. Smaller than Spamton now, he looks rather pathetic. 

"Does it hurt?" Tenna softly inquires. 

Spamton shrugs off the question. "It's [[EFFECTIVE ADVERTISING]], [[CRT]]. If you want to make the [[Kromer]] then you've got to deal with the [[HELL]]." 

Tenna doesn't like the answer, but what more does he expect at this point? He hasn't liked any of their interactions since Spamton's return. Not because Spamton's been purposefully malicious, but because they've all been an intense reminder of their old working relationship. Current Spamton juxtaposed against the posters that used to be made of their dynamic duo were practically night and day! 

When Tenna again reaches for Spamton, Spamton lets him, though both of them have to scoot closer in order for him to reach. 

"You don't even look like yourself." Tenna's screen goes completely black, his typical smile replaced by a glowing white frown amidst the darkness. "Just some..." 

"Trash?"

Tenna shrinks further, and his hands fall from Spamton's face as he's no longer big enough to touch it unless he wants to stand on the cushions. His knees are pulled to his chest, and his tail lays dejectedly behind him. This is the emotional side of Tenna Spamton's used to seeing; his feelings are obvious here. But Spamton doesn't understand them. 

What was Tenna so distraught by? 

He knows if the positions were reversed, he'd be giddy! 

Tenna believes Spamton abandoned him, sabotaging the show in the process. Why isn't he delighted to see Spamton barely holds a candle to the successful advertiser he used to be? Why isn't he gleeful to know that while Tenna gets a place in a castle surrounded by people who care about him, Spamton was left in a dumpster? 

Spamton stares at Tenna intensely, before adjusting his glasses. "Your [[Suit And Tie]] is ripped. At the [[Arms Race!]]." 

Shaky hands reaching up to his shoulders, Tenna caresses the stitching keeping his sleeves to his jacket. "It's sentimental," he mumbles, his voice meager. "I didn't want to lose the suit, especially not after I've lost everything else." 

Though filled with the urge to ask how the hell such expensive fabric was torn at the seams, Spamton instead admits "I [[Lost&Found]] my suit. I miss it [[DAILY WEATHER REPORT]]." 

Tenna shrinks even more, and Spamton can't fathom why. His suit looked fine aside from the obviously amateur stitching! And Spamton having lost his own suit should mean nothing considering he left! For him to have the audacity to miss something Tenna had made for him in the first place is a bit ridiculous, and has him regretting having said anything in the first place. 

"[[Cathode]], I really don't understand why you're so [[DownInTheDumps.Com]] about everything," Spamton eventually says, exasperated. On instinct, he reaches for Tenna, and plucks him up by the back of his suit, getting the visual of Tenna's black screen flickering back to life as his nose and mouth appear once more solely to express utter surprise. He's set on the palm of Spamton's hand as Spamton squints at him behind his multicoloured glasses. "You should- you should- you should-" his head twitches abruptly to the side, "you should be [[GET ANGRY]]. Not [[Rainy Skies]]!" 

Trembling, Tenna slides a sleeve over his face, and it's damp when he pulls it away. 

He kneels on Spamton's cold hand, which feels more like bone than flesh, before slowly shifting his position so that he's closer to Spamton's thumb. Under Spamton's narrowed gaze, Tenna hesitantly reaches for it, before pressing his face against it. He hugs around the digit carefully, waiting for Spamton to shove him away at any moment, and being relieved when that never occurs. Instead, Spamton himself softens slightly, and drags the top of his thumb carefully across Tenna's head, being gentle around his antennae. 

There's an urge to close his hand completely, and crush Tenna in his grasp, and his fingers twitch once or twice involuntarily as if preparing to do so, but Spamton doesn't. 

Instead, he lets himself be reminded of their past. Specifically, when heckled onstage. 

It was a rare occurrence; most of the people around during TV Time segments were people working on the show or a proper audience excited to watch the filming, but once or twice there'd been a disconnect between Tenna and the audience that he'd pick up on, and sulk over in his dressing room. 

Spamton had admittedly almost stepped on him once or twice, and so would pick him up to hold him out of the way while they talked. 

Though, Tenna didn't talk much in these moments. He would typically just curl up and listen as Spamton shared his perspective on the day's events, and occasionally stroked Tenna's ego in the hopes it'd fix this bout of depression he was suffering. It'd always worked before. Was it still going to work now? 

"Listen, [[CRT]], you don't have to tell [[HonestMan]] [[Anything & Everything]]. But you wanted to [[RENDEZVOUS]]." Spamton scoots back further on the sofa - temporarily jostling Tenna who holds tighter to him in response - and then comfortably leans against the cushions behind him. Before Tenna can cling to any of Spamton's other fingers, Spamton is again lifting him up, though this time his thumb and pointer are grabbing Tenna around his waist, earning a rather prominent blush and a wild variety of kicks. "Calm down," Spamton huffs out, before laughing suddenly. Again, Tenna's surprised by the action, but this time waits for Spamton to calm down and continue "I'm just getting a good [[LOOKSY]] at you. To [[Sea]] how you've [[REBRAND!]]." 

He squints at Tenna, who seems nervous being scrutinized so closely. As he's rolled back and forth in Spamton's fingers, there's a mixture of fear that he'll be dropped at a moment's notice, and a hint of... something else. 

But overall, Tenna looks almost exactly the same. There was no sort of actual change or retcon made to his appearance to try and separate himself from the past, unlike Spamton who's ditched every reminder of his old fame (willingly and unwillingly). 

It was just the way he acted that was different, but that seems to be a newer change spurred by Spamton's sudden revival. Spamton can imagine that his presence elicited a variety of feelings; the same way seeing Tenna again after all those years had temporarily erased all of Spamton's viciously homicidal desires towards him! 

With one hand still holding Tenna, the other moves to poke at his screen and chest, which has Tenna wriggling more fervently now, finally causing Spamton to relent. 

"Why are you [[WORM]] around so much?" Spamton hisses. "I'm just trying to [[TEAR YOU TO PIECES!!!]]." 

Of course, his words do not quell Tenna in the slightest, but it's not like Tenna's kicking is because he's scared. In fact, upon closer inspection, that doesn't appear to be the case at all! Even the small amount of justifiable fear seems to have melted away into something Spamton definitely did not expect to see today. 

Was that... fluster? 

It has to be; Tenna's screen doesn't go bright pink for any other reason! 

"Are you [[Enjoying Your Holiday?]]?" Spamton suddenly asks, and the question causes Tenna to go completely stiff. He freezes like he's just been caught drinking on set. And that reaction is telling enough. When Spamton cackles this time, it's completely genuine, and he even shakes Tenna's dangling body back and forth in amusement at the realization. "[[URL]]! How- how- how [[EXCITING! WONDEROUS! FANTASTICAL!]]!" 

"Don't mock me!" Tenna insists, kicking at Spamton's fingers in an attempt to be released. He grows slightly, causing Spamton's grip to ease out of surprise, but before Tenna can fall into Spamton's lap he's being snatched out of midair and brought closer to Spamton's face. 

This time, Spamton's entire fist curls around Tenna's body, keeping everything below Tenna's shoulders squeezed by firm, unrelenting pressure. Tenna swears he sees the colours of Spamton's glasses switch once or twice, but what he's really focused on is how close he is to Spamton's mouth. It's like Spamton's not holding him in order to make eye contact; he's holding Tenna with the intention of embarrassing him. Even though Tenna partially got himself into this predicament, and could grow back at any point in time. 

"I'm not [[Mockingbird]] you! I'm just pointing out the [[TRUTH]]!" He squeezes Tenna tighter, pulling the air from Tenna's synthetic lungs. "You really have [[MISSED ME MISSED ME NOW YOU GOTTA KISS ME!!!]]!" 

Spamton's loud, glitching voice is somehow even more overwhelming due to their current size discrepancy, as it feels like Spamton's yelling into Tenna's figurative ears. But Spamton has a point that causes Tenna's screen to flicker slightly, and glow sheepishly bright. As much as he is angry at being abandoned, with the way Spamton's currently holding him Tenna doesn't really have to worry about being left again. At least, not for right now. 

And he was always easy to sway when it came to Spamton. 

There was something about the miniature Addison that always had Tenna feeling at ease despite Spamton's rather colourful personality and big ideas. Before he left, they got on like a house on fire! 

And when he left, Tenna was reduced to just a pile of scorched wood. 

Spamton's thumb presses against the top of Tenna's head, pinning down his antennae as he rubs Tenna's face in a manner Tenna chooses to interpret as affectionate. He rubs over Tenna's screen and front until Tenna's whining at the touch, which causes Spamton to laugh again. 

"This really is [[Just Like Old Times]]," he comments, making Tenna flush so dark that steam begins to pour from the vents on the side of his head. 

Though he wants to assume Spamton's innocently referencing their history together, he knows instead Spamton's nodding to their more... intimate moments. For a while, Spamton was more than a business partner. He was a close friend. He was someone Tenna had been vulnerable with. And that vulnerability looked an awful like their current predicament, with Tenna trusting his form in Spamton's hands. Trusting a stray twitch not to crush him, and trusting Spamton to be careful with how easily Tenna can shatter under firm pressure. 

And though Tenna shouldn't trust Spamton to still regard him so compassionately, he subconsciously wants to, which is why his squirming stops. 

Similarly, Spamton's grip on him loosens, and then his hand opens so that Tenna's once again resting on his palm. He's raised briefly, so Spamton can truly observe him, before Spamton's thumb is folding over Tenna's tail and his hand is flipping over, now holding Tenna merely by the twisting wire attached to his backside. Tenna gets the jarring feeling of falling seconds before his tail is stretched taut and he's left dangling midair. 

"Hey-" Tenna stammers, before glancing up at Spamton's pinched fingers, which his plug tip thuds rapidly against, betraying his angry demeanor. "Hey! You can't just hold me like this! It's improper! It's rude! It's no way to treat a star!" 

Spamton has to bite his tongue hard to avoid pointing out Tenna's not a star anymore, and has barely been considered one since Spamton's absence. And though it's a fact he'll be eager to point out at a later date, the last thing he wants right now is to piss Tenna off to the point he'll grow back and kick Spamton back out with the trash. 

"If it's so [[OVERPRICED]] then why do you seem to [[LIKE&SUBSCRIBE]] it?" 

Tenna crosses his arms over his chest with a rather dramatic huff, the force of which causes him to swing slightly back and forth in Spamton's fingers. "It's just... familiar is all. Nostalgia." 

"[[Nostalgia]]," Spamton echoes, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "What's so [[Nostalgia]] about it?" 

The question is an obvious trap that makes Tenna fume with embarrassment. "You know exactly what I'm referring to," he tries to insist, but Spamton doesn't like that response. A quick shake of his hand and Tenna's being jostled wildly, leaving him thrashing around for something to hold onto, but finding nothing that'll keep him still. And while Spamton awaits a proper answer, he slowly lifts Tenna further and further up, causing his distance from Spamton's thighs and the soft couch to grow significantly. 

Two clicks and another bubbling volcano of laughter that nearly causes Spamton to drop him has Tenna gasping and quickly replying "okay, okay! You know when... when shoots would go particularly well, and maybe we'd get a little tipsy backstage..." A slew of good memories flash across Tenna's mind in the same instance they quickly flicker across his screen. The recalls move too fast for Spamton to specifically identify one memory or another, but he knows he sees himself in all of them. "Not all the time, of course. But uh... the first time." Tenna smiles cheekily, though he timidly rubs the back of his head, nerves apparent in the way he speaks. He grows ever so slightly in Spamton's hand, adding a bit more weight that Spamton now has to support. "The first time I shrank in front of you while not having some sort of crisis, we'd been drinking. And we ended up back in my dressing room." 

Though a majority of Spamton's older memories were quite fuzzy, and gave him headaches to try and think back on, he is able to recall what Tenna's referring to. 

"I don't remember why. Just that I did. And you picked me up." 

Tenna tugs at the collar of his shirt, the claws on his fingers nearly tearing through the fabric with how hard he pulls at it. "You were holding me much nicer than you are right now," he scoffs, feeling ironically similar to a rat being lifted out of disgust, "but your fingers were... prodding." 

He gulps, and doesn't continue. And this time, Spamton doesn't ask him to. 

Instead, he once again shifts Tenna's positioning, bringing Tenna back to his cold, segmented palm, where Tenna ends up pinned to his back by Spamton's thumb pressing down across his front. One of his arms is trapped at his side as well, but the other comes to rest on the large finger. Spamton's other hand approaches almost... threateningly, and begins to poke and rub overtop Tenna's suit. 

Spamton grins wide with his puppet-like mouth. "Am I doing it [[LEFT]]?" 

Trembling slightly, Tenna nods, his tail wiggling happy back and forth. Spamton's rougher with him now than he was all those years ago, but Tenna doesn't completely mind, and instead lets Spamton continue to jab into him. A firm press against his leg has Tenna spreading his thighs apart, and when Spamton's thumb pushes down against his torso, all Tenna can do is exhale a shuddering breath. 

But it's when Spamton gets bored of beating around the bush and finally rubs his middle finger against Tenna's crotch does Tenna seem to snap back to reality. 

He attempts to close his legs, understanding the inappropriateness of reconnecting with his old partner like this, but Spamton's finger stays put and it looks almost like Tenna's trying to wrap his calves around the digit to keep it there. 

"[[Cathode]], I'm [[Flattened]] to know you [[LIKELIKELIKE]] this," Spamton jests, and his fingers all click at once, twitching sporadically for a second and nearly crushing Tenna under their hard presses before lifting once more, "but your [[HYPERLINK BLOCKED]] suit is in the [[Which Way To Heaven?]]! You don't mind [[If You Snooze, You Lose!]]ing it, right?" 

Tenna wants to refuse, and cite how Spamton shouldn't even be in a position to be making such requests... but Tenna put himself here. And he's not leaving.

So, begrudgingly (and perhaps a bit eagerly) Tenna nods his head. "Just be careful," he pleads, "I've already gotten it patched once. I'd rather not go through the hassle of getting it stitched up again." 

Spamton doesn't acknowledge this request, but he does appear to be considerate of Tenna's clothing as he slowly begins pulling them from Tenna's body. 

With his thumb still keeping Tenna's back pinned to his palm, pulling the CRT's pants off is a breeze. Of course, the shoes go along with them, and Tenna's socks have to be pinched off a lot more carefully, but eventually Tenna's lower half is stripped down to a pair of loose boxers. 

Then, Spamton's thumb slides down to Tenna's crotch, which he presses down hard against knowing it'll make Tenna writhe while Spamton works on sliding Tenna's suit jacket off. Despite the fact Tenna's pushing at Spamton's thumb in an attempt to alleviate some of the crushing pleasure he's being so suddenly assaulted with, he does eventually whimper and move to help Spamton get his shirt of as well, pulling away his jacket, tie, and undershirt, until he's naked from the waist up. 

It's only then that Spamton's thumb scratches over Tenna's midsection, and slowly begins to draw Tenna's underwear down in a teasing, familiar manner. 

It's not just familiar to Tenna, though, as Spamton himself is delighted with his own memories of that night. Where Tenna had shrunk, and willingly thrown himself into Spamton's hands, and gotten sloppily undressed. His small clothes had ended up in a crumpled pile on the floor that Spamton nearly slipped on back then, but now they're just tossed to the side, landing on the cushion beside him. 

Tenna's boxers are the last to join the collection, but eventually they do, and Tenna's left completely unclothed in Spamton's grasp. 

However, Tenna looks a tad hesitant now. 

He doesn't voice any concerns he has, but he does harbor a bit of skepticism when it comes to his ability to trust Spamton. How couldn't he?

The last time he was small, naked, and in Spamton’s hand, he’d been brought somewhere… hot. But not just hot.

He’d been lifted to Spamton’s mouth, and had eagerly crawled inside. Despite comments threatening to chew Tenna until he was just a pile of nuts and bolts, he had been careful not to bring his teeth down at all, simply playing with Tenna with his tongue.

But with Spamton’s current jaw that looks completely unhinged, and his constant twitching, Tenna wasn’t entirely sure he can trust Spamton not to bite him hard enough to cause damage!

“Still feeling [[Nostalgia]]?” Spamton inquires, his tone more teasing than anything. If he has any worries regarding Tenna being so small, he doesn’t voice them. His thumb strokes down the length of Tenna’s front, from his chest down to his half-hard cock, which Tenna should feel embarrassed having on display. “And do you want to [[PROCEED]]?” 

There Tenna identifies a slight quiver in the words Spamton speaks. 

He may look as confident as ever (despite the fact Tenna definitely wouldn't if he looked or smelled as bad as Spamton does currently), but it was just a facade. Partially, at least. And that small amount of vulnerability puts Tenna at ease, because if Spamton is aware of the danger he can put Tenna in, and seemingly worried about it, then maybe he does still care. 

Maybe there's something still there. 

Besides, saying no at this point would be hell for Tenna, considering Spamton hasn't stopped stroking over his front, and specifically Tenna's cock which he fidgets with in particular, due to a mixture of general restlessness and because it's funny to watch Tenna squirm and attempt to remain composed while his shaft is so carelessly stroked by the rough pad of Spamton's segmented thumb. 

So, Tenna clears his throat, and nods. "Sure, we can proceed!" Despite his enthusiasm, he should honestly make sure he and Spamton are on the same page about what exactly they're going to do. Just because Tenna's fondly reminiscing on that one time he'd climbed into Spamton's mouth doesn't mean Spamton's reflecting on the same memory. And Tenna doesn't exactly think they've rebuilt their relationship enough to feel comfortable going anywhere else. "Though, are we going to-" 

Before he can ask for a quick bit of clarification, he's being brought to Spamton's mouth, with Spamton not bothering with the formalities of kissing or giving Tenna time to register things before he's shoving Tenna roughly past his teeth and against his tongue. 

Tenna shrinks slightly to make it easier for Spamton to cram him inside, and ends up kneeling on Spamton's tongue. 

It's embarrassing to be doing this with someone he barely knows anymore, but Spamton doesn't seem to have any qualms about it, as his teeth instead roughly close, barely missing the tip of Tenna's tail as he bites down. Tenna jumps at the sound that echoes throughout Spamton's throat, but gulps soon after as he's suddenly jostled around in the darkness. 

His flickering screen is the only source of light against Spamton's tongue, and even that bit of brightness is constantly being covered as Spamton gets right to licking over him. 

In Spamton's mind, it was... odd. 

Of all of the things he expected to happen when reconnecting with Tenna, this was the last on his list, but considering they both had a habit of getting carried away, he supposes he shouldn't be all too surprised. 

Though - as he flips Tenna back and forth in his mouth - he can't help but think about how absurd this is. 

Spamton should bite down on him, and chew him into a million tiny, metallic pieces, and he'd been thinking about doing something similar to that for years. But now, he can hardly stomach the thought! At least, not for longer than a few seconds...

"You know, [[Cathode]], one wrong move and you'll [[END]] up [[A Million Ant-Sized Pieces!]]," Spamton warns, though his voice reverberates loudly across Tenna's form. And his muffled words make Tenna shiver with a mixture of fear and a humiliatingly large amount of excitement. "Then you'd really [[SoreLoser]] out on becoming a [[BIG-SHOT]]. If you hadn't [[Kicked The Bucket]] on that chance already." 

Tenna goes to protest at the bitter reminder, but Spamton is using his tongue to pin Tenna to the roof of his mouth before he can. The wet muscle licks over Tenna's body, pushing down against his robotic form and his flashing face, before focusing on the small amount of salty pre he can taste coming from Tenna's cock. A bit of focus in that area and Tenna starts to writhe, gasping and whining for Spamton to slow down a minute even though his words are hardly audible compared to his own moans and the lewd sucking sounds coming from Spamton's jaw. 

When Spamton has to swallow down a mouthful of spit, Tenna's pressed harder against the roof of his mouth in order to not send him tumbling down into Spamton's stomach along with it. Then, he's dropped, where he lands with a dramatic splat back against Spamton's tongue, where he's back to being sucked on feverishly. 

And Tenna doesn't bother trying to complain any further. At least he'll barely be able to hear Spamton's taunting words over his own noises. 

Tenna, unsurprisingly, tastes like metal, though there's a particular fuzziness Spamton can feel if he directs his tongue against Tenna's screen, which also seems to make Tenna writhe unhappily. Obviously, this only encourages Spamton to keep doing it, until Tenna gives up on trying to push the muscle away which in turn bores Spamton immediately now that Tenna's letting him do it freely. 

He doesn't want to move too fast through things, wanting to instead savor the feeling of Tenna in his mouth, so easily manipulated by just his tongue. Spamton could completely overpower him in this instant, and there's a chance Tenna would like it. 

"If the TV business doesn't [[Work Out Supplements]] for you, you'd make a [[$4.99]] [[HARLOT]]," Spamton quips, shoving Tenna temporarily into his cheek, before rolling him back onto his tongue. 

The constant motion is disorienting for Tenna, who wishes his claws could dig into Spamton's tongue harder than they are without hurting him. It's hard to keep himself steady enough to hump, but it's not like he needs to, as the never-ending licking is overwhelming enough. Each movement of Spamton's tongue coats Tenna's body in more and more saliva, and causes him to heat up further and further. 

And with each involuntary twitch of Spamton's head, Tenna's further left to tumble around, though he finds he doesn't quite mind it. 

Not only does the pleasure he's feeling make him feel hot, but the humidity in Spamton's mouth is enough for Tenna's internal cooling agents to be running overtime, working desperately to keep him functioning properly. All while he ruts his cock against Spamton's tongue, only having a few seconds to moan at the straightforward pleasure before he's simply nudged this way and that direction to keep him off balance. Spamton's toying with him on purpose too, pushing Tenna up against his teeth, opening them slightly, and then lowering his teeth down against his tail or his antennae. The bites are gentle, but at their contrasting sizes the pressure is still immense, and has Tenna crying out as Spamton plays with him so mercilessly. 

His cock leaks a consistent stream of pre that quickly mixes in with Spamton's spit, and is swallowed down Spamton's throat, with Tenna threatening to be gulped down too with one wrong move. 

And what kind of man would Spamton be if he just let Tenna have all the fun? A selfless one? Nonsense! 

Spamton's scuffed, off-white pants dirtied from years on the streets are tugged down just enough for Spamton to pull his cock out. His fist wraps quickly around it, and he sets an impatient pace from the get-go. He can hear from Tenna's consistently loud moans that he's enjoying himself perhaps a bit too much, and at this rate Spamton will have to spit him out before he even gets to savor him! 

Another overwhelming amount of laugher bubbles up from Spamton's throat, as his mouth opens to make way for the unstoppable noise giving Tenna a glimpse of his room before Spamton's teeth clamp down shut hard, and again he's using his tongue to pin Tenna to the roof of his mouth. 

This time, it's due to a mixture of needing him to stay temporarily still so Spamton can try and catch up, while also teasing Tenna further. 

He can feel Tenna trying to straddle his tongue, and can hear his muffled complaints as he whines at not getting as much pleasure as most of Spamton's tongue rests against his chest, leaving Tenna's cock neglected and dripping. His nails dig into the muscle, but Spamton's undeterred by the pain, and only uses it as further motivation to deprive Tenna. After all, such insolence can't be met with a reward! Then Tenna will end up clawing at his tongue all willy-nilly like an untamed cat! 

Spamton's fingers twitch and squeeze roughly around the base of his shaft, making him groan, which is a noise that subsequently excites Tenna. 

Tenna's antennae shoot straight up with interest as he hears Spamton's guttural, glitchy noises of pleasure begin to fill the space around him. There's no escaping the audible proof of Spamton's enjoyment, not that Tenna would try and run from it anyway. 

It's honestly quite flattering to know he still has this effect on Spamton, even after all these years. 

He wants to see exactly what Spamton's doing, and maybe also catch a glimpse of what Spamton's body looks like after their time apart, but he can't see anything with his screen pressed against Spamton's tongue. So he tries to ignore his own raging curiosity in order to attempt to satiate his raging arousal instead. 

He manages to wiggle his position slightly and shift against the top of Spamton's jaw until Spamton's tongue is pressing against his abdomen instead, which begets him a fresh wave of pleasure when he jerks his hips forward. 

Spamton frowns at the feeling of Tenna still worming around tirelessly to get what he wants, but drops his tongue with a heavy huff that sends a wave of hot air across Tenna's already overheating form as he lands back onto Spamton's squishy tongue fully. 

"I'm trying to do- do- do [[2 For 1]] [[Party Favor]]," Spamton complains, though his hand works harder around his cock. If Tenna's not going to give him the time to catch up, then he just has to work faster. He nearly bites his tongue out of habit when a groan works its way through his throat, but luckily stops himself seconds before Tenna ends up accidentally crushed. Tenna barely pays attention to Spamton's words as they're meaningless to him when his own pleasure is on the line, and he just lets out a moan of his own as he humps pathetically against Spamton's tongue. "You're acting like a [[PEST]]." 

The muscle between Tenna's legs arches up against him, and Tenna curls over on himself with a particularly loud cry. Spamton swishes more and more salty saliva around his mouth as it becomes tainted with Tenna's growing amount of pre. 

Spamton's own shaft leaks with precome of his own, and he uses it to aid in pumping his fist up and down quickly. He moves so fast it feels almost overstimulating, but he refuses to be stuck in an endless loop of uncoordinated pleasure. And Tenna's starting to get a bit too hot hot hot on his tongue. 

Tenna's hips rut endlessly forward, gasping out "yes," and "Spamton," in breathless pants. 

It feels weird saying Spamton's name again after all these years, especially in such a context, but feeling the way Spamton's tongue seems to focus on his cock after hearing it, Tenna assumes Spamton's missed hearing it almost as much as Tenna's missed saying it. 

And Spamton himself utters a whole slew of curses and strikingly loud adverts that are utterly obscene and profane, all of which cause Tenna's internal circuits to spark. 

His body is burning up; his fans can do little to counteract his own intense pleasure and the growing humidity within Spamton's mouth, and that heat paired with Tenna's own enjoyment mixes into a tingling warmth that spreads from his abdomen up through the rest of his body. And Tenna gives in quickly to that wonderful, electrifying feeling, and cums on Spamton's tongue with a loud cry. 

His hips shift and move through the duration of his orgasm, with cum spurting from his cock and into Spamton's mouth with little regard for Spamton's tastebuds. 

Spamton can obviously taste this immediately, and though he swishes Tenna back and forth to gather spit in his cheeks before pinning the CRT to the roof of his mouth in order to swallow it (and Tenna's climax) down his throat, Tenna doesn't get to remain in his mouth much longer. As seconds after this, Tenna's being rather forcefully spat out directly onto Spamton's thighs. 

He lands spit-soaked on Spamton's wrinkled pants, where he gets a clear view of Spamton's leaking cock (after his dizziness fades, of course). 

But before he gets time to ogle, Spamton's leaning back slightly and shifting his shaft ever so slightly forward, with the slit of his cock now directly aimed at Tenna's miniscule form. Tenna's left reeling and unable to even question what Spamton's doing, as he watches Spamton's head twitch with excited laughter, before he pants out "here comes the [[BIG SHOT]]," and cums directly in Tenna's face. 

Of course, at his size, Spamton's semen coats more than just his flashing screen, which quickly darkens with shock as he's knocked onto his back from the forceful load. His entire body is coated in Spamton's climax, with Spamton continuing to make rather intense sounding glitching noises between uncontrollable laughter as his hand tightly works itself up and down his cock, until there's nothing left to even drip from it. It's only then that Spamton's fit of laughter seems to die down, and his eyes shut as he sucks in deep, raspy breaths instead. 

He almost sounds like he's suffocating, but he's completely fine if the way he grabs Tenna is any indication. 

He's pinched at his waist by Spamton's thumb and pointer, and lifted with ease off Spamton's leg. "Wow, [[Trash Heap]]," Spamton breathes, his smile stretched unnervingly wide. "I just got done [[YOU SUCK!!!]]ing you clean, and you've gone and gotten [[SLIMED]]! How in[[con]]siderate of [[U]]!" 

As a small droplet of Spamton's cum drips from the tip of Tenna's nose, Tenna frowns, and in a matter of seconds grows back to full height. He lands heavily on Spamton's lap, straddling the smaller man with his fingers immediately tangling in the front of Spamton's shirt. Spamton's mess - previously drenching him completely - is now left with nothing but a few stray splatters barely noticeable against Tenna's metallic skin or glowing face. "Real funny," Tenna scolds, as Spamton shakes excitedly in his grip, "we both know you're the inconsiderate one here." 

"[[TOMATO, TOMATO]]," Spamton shrugs. He opens his mouth to say more, but Tenna's hips scoot slightly forward as he attempts to get comfortable whilst another man is beneath him. 

And due to his reformed size, his cock - which has obviously grown with him - unintentionally slides up Spamton's chest, and pokes against the underside of his chin. It's an action both of them notice, but out of embarrassment neither comment on, with Spamton just laughing nervously as Tenna covers his fuzzy pink face and quickly shuffles away and towards his still-shrunken clothes. 

Spamton thankfully has the manners to tuck himself back into his dirty clothes as he hears Tenna shrinking and growing beside him, as he gets back into his suit in order to make sure it sizes back up with him. And when they make eye contact again, they both look completely normal. As normal as they can look, at least. 

"So," Tenna coughs into his fist, as he adjusts one of his gloves, "I did actually want to talk to you." 

"Right, right, [[RIGHT-O]]," Spamton nods. "Then let’s [[CHIT&CHAT]]."