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What happens when two TV heads walk into a bar?
It was a sad day in Hell. Mr Ant Tenna slumped over his cup of what was probably beer and sighed heavily. He was so down he didn't even feel like doing it in cursive. And the bartender didn't even seem to care! Weren't they supposed to lend you a friendly ear, listen to your woes, offer some friendly advice? Unbeknownst to Tenna, the one bartender that would have done that was off helping some smelly old deer do smelly old deer things. Thus, a dog-shaped Sinner was manning the bar, and they only seemed to care about gazing longingly at the "alluring block of cheese." What is so exciting about the block of cheese, you may ask? Tenna had tried, and had gotten nothing helpful.
Something crashed into the door leading into the bar, and then proceeded to crash into it again. Tenna looked behind him just in time to see a much smaller man— one who also possessed a TV head to Tenna's delight—stumble through the door, having gotten it open on the third try. It was clear he had already been to a few bars prior, for the man looked and behaved quite drunkly already. (And he knew it was a man, because Tenna could smell the internalized homophobia coming off of him even from across the room, and it was the kind that only middle aged men had. He may be a cartoonish, silly guy but listen, ol Tenna's been around the block a few times. He knows 'em when he sees 'em.)
He watched as the stranger took a seat a few stools down. He was dressed in all blue, bright blue, in a coat much like Tenna's own. He was much smaller, and twinkier. Looking at his own hands, he could probably snap the fellow like a stick if he wanted. Fortunately for him, Tenna was not that kind of person! Or, well, TV thing. (He's really not sure what he is, he just knows that he's a Tenna, and that he's a he more than he's a she or a they.) Tenna had been quite surprised to wake up in Hell, but he had figured it was probably due to the copious amounts of money he and— well, he and his former business partner had embezzled from the sponsors, so maybe it wasn't that surprising after all. So far, Hell had been unpleasant but not especially horrible yet. He was much larger than the average person he encountered, which worked in his favour. Plus, he found that he could still throw his stars and attack just as well as he had when he was alive.
"Can I get an old fashioned? And leave the bottle," the TV guy says. Ooh, he has a nice voice. Smooth, and kind of low. A far cry from Spa-
He cuts the thought off short, melancholy washing back over him and he quickly takes a swig out of his cup. No need to think about that, actually! The arrival of the new person had distracted him. He goes back to studying the other man. Something about him calls to Tenna. Maybe it's the TV head. Maybe it's the similar coats. Maybe it's the fact they're sitting in a bar, clearly both trying to drown their sorrows.
"Quit fucking staring at me," the guy snaps, and Tenna jolts back to reality, having let his thoughts wander. Prickly, isn't he?
Tenna smiles. "My apologies! I was just thinking about how similar we are, with the heads—" and he gestures with his hand the shape of his own, "—and all."
Facing the guy head on (ha!) he can see his face better. The other guy is gifted with the ability to display eyes, something Tenna wishes he could do. He's very blue and his screen is really bright, with bright pink eyes and a cyan border around the left. He also has a silly little hat, and a wonky antennae. Very cute.
"Yeah, well," the guy says. "Take a picture, it'll last longer. In fact, you don't even have to! Just look around. I'm everywhere, baby!"
"Really?" Tenna says, genuinely confused. "I hadn't noticed,"
The guy bristles. "The fuck you mean you hadn't noticed? Are you fucking stupid? Is your head just as empty as your face?"
"Excuse me, I'm new here," Tenna replies tartly. The dig at his face had stung, landing on an old insecurity that had never gone away. "Anyway, if you're everywhere, then you must be quite important!"
"Fuck yeah, I am! I'm Vox, CEO of Voxtek," the guy—Vox— says, puffing up in pride, a wide and jagged smile splitting across his screen. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Tenna holds out a hand to shake. "I'm Ant Tenna, though most people just call me Tenna."
"You're not a fucking ant, that's for sure," Vox mumbles, looking up at him and taking his hand firmly, squeezing it aggressively tight and shaking it hard. He can feel Vox's sharp cyan claws dig into his own soft hand. "Clever pun. Did you pick that out yourself or were you unfortunately named that?"
"I'm… not sure what you mean," Tenna says. "Anyway, what brings you here?"
Immediately, Vox's mood drops, his screen visibly dimming. "Fuck off, can't a guy drink without having to explain himself?"
"Oh," Tenna says, a bit disappointed at the sudden rejection. "Well. Okay." He turns back to his drink, suddenly feeling worse than before. First Spamton fucking leaves him, then Kris and everyone else leaves him behind, and now even random strangers don't want him! He sighs heavily. He'd been so loved, so successful! And now look at him, drinking in a dingy bar in Hell, and there's not even a gruff but secretly kind bartender to listen to him. (Somewhere across Hell, a prickle runs up Husk's spine, like someone is in need of a gruff but secretly kind bartender, but then Alastor grabs his attention again and he forgets about it.)
"…Fuck. Fine," he hears Vox say, and tentatively peeks to his right. "I guess we can bond, or whatever. Braid each other's hair, paint our nails. Fffffuck it, right?" Vox scoots a stool closer, pulling his whiskey bottle with him. "I'm not doing this out of pity. I don't do charity cases. This is because I want to complain and no one else will listen to me. Well, they would if I wanted, but they wouldn't get it, and you seem like you'd probably get it. You wouldn't be here otherwise, would you?"
"I… guess," Tenna says, a little lost in the face of the many rambling words just thrown at him. He decides to focus on the fact that Vox is willing to hang out with him. That's the important part. "I like to think I'd get anything. I thought I wouldn't get emails, once upon a time, and now I do."
Vox laughs. "Fan-fucking-tastic." The swear makes Tenna almost tell Vox to cut it out or the sponsors will get them, the action just habit at this point after having had to say it to Sp— It doesn't matter, anyway. He's in Hell. There are no sponsors anymore. Just him, and the world, and his apparent sins.
"So, uh, what's your story?" Vox continues, a bit awkwardly this time, clearly out of his depth. He'd seemed like such a smooth talker, too! Tenna adds 'allergic to vulnerability' to the pile. A red flag for sure, but then again, he likes the colour red! And also, Spamton had been a walking red flag and Tenna had still gone charging for it like a bull and a matador, so.
He drains the rest of his cup to fortify himself and lets the memory well up, along with the sheer emotion he'd been supressing thus far. "My busineeeess paaaartner," Tenna suddenly wails, and doesn't notice Vox flinch at the words. "He LEFT me. Just picked up a phone call and ran out like he'd just been told he— he— That his top running show was cancelled! Or something like that! Something big and terrible and worth running out on ME for!" Vox gives him a tentative pat on the back. "And even worse, he came back again!! Just to taunt me! And to help Kris defeat me! DARN YOU, SPAMTON!" The last part he bellows, using his best TV-time voice. "You little RAT. I LOVED YOU. I'm going to FRY that stupid pipis for BREAKFAST! IT'LL BE THE MOST DELICIOUS MOTHERFUCKING OMELETTE IVE EVER HAD." He proceeded to dissolve into tears, letting out wet and noisy sobs.
Once again unbeknownst to Tenna, Vox is staring at him with a mix of dismay and a bit of—God forbid—arousal for this sad sack. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) for Vox, he'd always had a size difference kink, and. Well. Tenna certainly fit the bill—with some to spare, even! Bro was fucking massive. Those hands alone… Vox made the mistake of envisioning them around his dick and nearly choked. OKAY! The point is, he'd be as good a rebound as any. Perhaps a little better, weird omelette nonsense nonwithstanding.
"What'd he look like?" Vox asks, definitely not at all trying to figure out if he was hotter than this so called 'business partner.'
Perking up, Tenna turns to look at him, the entire focus of that eerily blank face on him. Despite having no eyes, Vox still feels very, very observed when under the other man's gaze. "Hang on! I might have a photo!"
Vox watches as he starts patting down his jacket, rummaging through the pockets, pulling out various random, strangely cartoonish objects. After a moment, he makes a noise of triumph (a sound that could only be described as AHA! in cursive) and sets a scrap of paper in front of Vox. It's beat up, clearly having been carried around for a long time. The picture shows Tenna and a very, very short man in formal business suits, holding glasses of wine in the air. They're clearly celebrating something. Then he pulls out a newer photo, less worn down. It's a candid, taken on the fly, of the same little man but in significantly worse condition. He's half turned away from the camera, in the motions of running. Does he even have pants on?
He has to hold back the urge to laugh. That's the guy Tenna was in love with? That thing? He's barely taller than Tenna's knee! He looks like a fucking- Vox isn't sure how to describe it, but sleazy used car salesman is on the right track, with a side of 'wet cardboard' and 'small, hairy dog.' Recalling Tenna's earlier words, rat was pretty apt, actually.
"Man," Vox says aloud, at a loss for words for maybe the first time in his entire life. He hopes he sounds appropriately sympathetic.
"I know, right?" Tenna sniffles. "Spammy was so handsome! And clever!"
Vox blinks. "What did you say his name was?"
"Spam- Spamton," Tenna says fondly. "Spamton G. Spamton."
God. There's no way that's his real name. He's starting to wonder how Tenna ever fell for him at all. The more he tells him, the more Vox is convinced he was an escaped circus act or something.
"Well, um, he's missing out," Vox says, opting to focus back on Tenna and reassure him instead of trying to untangle the clusterfuck that is… whatever that is. "What an asshole, ditching you like that."
"I know, right!" Tenna replies, suddenly looking very eager. "He chose the worst time to leave, too! TV Time was a roaring SUCCESS. And I heard that he went to live in a sad little trash heap at the bottom of Cyber City. Serves him right."
Vox nods. A moment passes where both of them just contemplate their respective pasts and questionable tastes in partners. Tenna flags the bartender over and requests a bottle of rhapsotea, something Vox nor the bartender had never heard of in their lives. Tenna then proceeded argued with them about it for ten minutes straight—at one point, he had tried to call for a 'Mike' to 'get their asses'—until he was able to reach a compromise; a drink that looked awful and definitely had a high chance of sending you to double death with a single sip.
"Anyway, enough about me," Tenna says. "What's your story?"
Vox sighs. "Well, my… Alastor, that's his name, he's just a complete and utter bitch. Can't handle fucking anything even remotely resembling an emotion, the guy's got a complex the size of the moon. We were friends," and here Vox makes sarcastic air quotes, putting heavy emphasis on the last word to properly convey what he, and Alastor, had really meant, "and I wanted to become business partners—Alastor's the Radio Demon, if you hadn't heard, he's quite scary and important 'round here. And since I do TV and he does radio, well, it seemed natural to try and partner up. right?" Vox laughs bitterly. "So I, I bring him to a bar. And we're having a good time, and I'm making jokes, and then I ask him, hey we should try and team up, it would be revolutionary! I tell him, God. God! I say, you're just so inspiring, you've really helped me get to where I am so think of how far both of us could go.
"And instead of saying no like a normal fucking person, he laughs so hard he wheezes, harder than I'd ever seen him laugh, like I'd just said the funniest goddamn thing ever, and then tells me that 'There are no friends in Hell,'" Vox puts on a radio filter, mimics Alastor's movements the same as they'd been back then. "And ever since then, we've been bitter rivals. Recently. though I had the opportunity to take him hostage as a part of a whole thing, and he fucking used me." Wow, apparently he had had more to say than he thought. He was only going to give Tenna the bare rundown. His traitorous mouth had clearly had other ideas.
Tenna's face forms a frown, his antennae sagging and somehow, inexplicably, the top bar of his screen also slumping as if to mimic eyebrows. Even his fucking nose droops.
"Wow, that is so much worse than what happened to me," Tenna says sadly, before abruptly pulling Vox in for a hug. His face gets smashed into Tenna's very—oh wow. he's quite well endowed in the chest— and is awkwardly held there for longer than the socially acceptable amount of time for a hug. After a minute of fruitless protesting Vox manages to slip out of the hold and return himself to his seat, heart hammering. Fuck, is Tenna actually kind of hot? Fuck! He can't actually be into this guy. He's so corny. But nope, his dick is showing signs of life.
"What did he look like?" Tenna asks suddenly and making Vox jump, having been in the midst of having a crisis.
"Oh, uh. I can show you," Vox says, and then flips his screen over to a picture of Alastor he'd managed to snag while the other was asleep during his captivity.
Tenna leans in to look closer, apparently that kind of technology user, the kind where you have to be three inches from it before it makes sense. Unfortunately, since Tenna has such a fuck-off long nose, it pokes Vox right where his eye would be. And he can still feel that shit, eyes currently displayed or not. He yelps and falls backward— right off the barstool. Too sloshed to act quickly, he prepares himself to meet the floor.
But then! Since this is apparently a rom-com, Tenna heroically catches him, cradling Vox's tiny twink body in his big strong hands.
"Whoa there," Tenna says, voice suddenly all low and sultry and unfortunately hot. "Gotta be careful."
Vox blinks up at him. "I could've toooootally caught myself." Fuck, he really is drunk, if he's saying shit like that.
Tenna gently sets him upright, but the abrupt change in position causes an abrupt change in Vox's balance and he stumbles, bumping into Tenna again. Now that they're both standing up, the height difference is very obvious. Vox comes up to Tenna's chest, just about eye level with it. He has to crane his head to look up at him. This close he can smell him; he smells a bit like new electronics.
I should get going, Vox thinks. You are very hot, and I dont want to do anything stupid. I need to go home.
He opens his mouth to say so.
"Let's fuck," is what comes out of his mouth. And then to his horror, his mouth follows that up with "I bet you have a massive cock."
Goddamnit.
Tenna makes a godawful noise at this, a high pitched screech of surprise and jumps straight up in the air. The reaction is something that a character would do in a silly cartoon, not real life and it makes VOx question his life decisions all over again. He's going to have a crisis after this, he just knows it. The five stages of grief, head in hands breakdown, the whole nine yards. "Oh gosh, surely we can't— the sponsors would kill us! A bold suggestion, wow, uh, you couldn't possible want little ol me," Tenna stammers.
Vox decides to commit. What's the worst that could happen, after all? He's Vox, after all, and he finishes what he starts. He reaches up to grab Tenna's bright yellow tie and yank him down to Vox's level, grinning in a hopefully seductive and not deranged manner. "Come on Tenna, you know you want a piece of all this," Vox purrs, trying to channel his inner Valentino. Never before has he had to woo someone else; usually they came to him. Because Vox was the shit, of course. Hot, rich, and powerful, what more could you want? "Let me be your TV daddy. Or you can be mine, either way is hot as fuck." He's definitely closer to sober by now; his Hellish body has a monstrously fast metabolism, but he's going to blame the things coming out of his mouth on being inebriated anyway. Sober Vox would never. Drunk Vox, well, he can't be blamed for anything he says and does tonight, right?
"I— Oh, why not," Tenna says, and Vox's grin widens. He uses the tie to tug Tenna further down into a passionate kiss, and after a second the other kisses back with the same amount of energy. It's kind of what he would imagine kissing an electrical socket to be like, or kissing himself. Tenna also buzzes with the same electricity and static Vox does, more than Alastor had ever done, and it's a nice difference. He likes that.
Vox pulls them into the electrical fields and pulls them out into his penthouse. Again, Tenna makes a surprised noise, one that Vox immediately swallows as he pushes Tenna backwards and onto the bed, making the larger man take a seat. Vox follows him down, climbing into his lap and straddling him, still not breaking the kiss or letting go of the tie. Tenna lets himself fall backwards and Vox follows. Tenna's hands come up to rest on Vox's sides, holding him in place as they fervently make out. After a few minutes Vox pulls away, gasping. Tenna lets out a whine at the loss, hands twitching as if they want to pull him back down. He already looks like a right mess, suit jacket rumpled, tie half undone. Vox smirks. He's just getting started. After all, he's business partners with Valen-fucking-tino! After all they've done together, which was a great many things, he's picked up a trick or two. Vox quickly sheds his suit jacket, vest, and shirt, exposing his top half. Tenna drinks him in; despite having no eyes, he can feel the prickle of an intense gaze tracing his body anyway. It makes his skin heat and the spines on his back spread out.
"Like what you see, huh," Vox says, letting his tongue hang out for a quick second, just enough to show how long it is. He can feel Tenna's breath hitch at the sight.
Vox unbuttons Tenna's shirt, making the other sit up to remove it fully. But when his hands move toward the tie, Vox bats it away. "Uh-uh. That stays on."
Tenna's body is entirely metal and shaped much like a human man's body. It's an interesting contrast to Vox's own mostly flesh, partly machine body, fashioned more like a shark than anything else. He runs his claws over the expanse of him, tracing the smooth metal. Beneath him, Tenna shudders.
"So, how do you wanna do this? Do I ride you like a hot, handsome cowboy?" Vox asks, grinning lecherously and quite drunkly at him. "Or… do you wanna ride me like a hot, handsome cowboy? This horse is ready to mount." He wiggles his pelvis a bit, drawing attention to the very obvious tent and growing wet spot. Tenna's gaze follows the movement and Vox knows the moment he sees it because his breath catches beneath him.
Growing impatient he decides to get the show on the road, resuming kissing Tenna with purpose as his hands drift along his body. He's smooth and warm to the touch, a direct opposite to Vox's own slightly rough and cool skin. After a moment, Tenna returns the favour, gently stroking his back and sides, running a fingertip over the spines, brushing against his gills. Vox moans as he does and the finger returns with more purpose to play with his gills.
Panting, Vox pulls away, shucking his pants off hastily. "I assume you're no slouch in the sheets. How about I take the lead tonight and maybe next time you can run the show? Let me be in charge of tonight's programming." He lets his voice go all glitchy and dark at the end, and it works as Tenna growls in response, flipping them. "Ooh, or not? Gonna dominate me, Mr Tenna?"
One gloved hand wraps around Vox's cock and begins to pump it rapidly. The other braces him above Vox, and the sheer difference in size and power makes him shiver, even more arousal rushing through his body and decidedly southward. The tie hangs down within grabbing reach, and Vox grabs hold of it to yank Tenna down closer just to hear the sound he makes in surprise. In return Tenna twists his wrist around his cock and making Vox twitch at the feeling.
"You're doing so good," Tenna says lowly. "What a good boy you're being. You're a real superstar! Just like that. Only a little more to go, now."
"Fuck," Vox chokes out, barely able to string two words together as he approaches his climax. Listen, he's not that quick or easy normally, but Tenna's hand is moving in just the right way and it's completely around his cock and it feels so good, okay? He thrusts his hips into it as much as he can, chasing the feeling. One more movement and he's coming with a cry, the lights flickering. Only through sheer willpower does he manage to keep his power from shorting out the entire tower. Once upon a time, it would have been the whole Pentagram, but now he's barely powerful enough to take down a building. In this case though, it's coming in handy. At least he can be thankful for that, maybe. Small mercies and all that, right?
Tenna holds him gently through the aftershocks, taking his hand away from Vox's cock and waiting for him to finish. Vox looks up at him and grins.
"You wanna go now?" he says, spreading his legs. "I think I'd like to have some TV time with your cock. Put it on the schedule."
Panting, Tenna nods and quickly unzips, pulling himself out of his pants. Vox nudges him to line up and he does, setting himself at his entrance before hesitating. "Oh, but what about, what about lube?" Vox quickly fishes around in the pillow next to him, quickly finding a small bottle that he then throws at Tenna. "Wow, that's… extremely convenient."
Vox laughs. "Val's a pro at this. He has the stuff stashed everywhere, ready at a moment's notice."
Tenna nods, quickly opening Vox up before finally, finally plunging in. Vox wraps his legs around Tenna's hips as he starts to thrust.
"Oh, Vox," Tenna moans. "You're so good for me. Now. Say you love TV."
"What?" He must hesitate for too long because Tenna leans in closer, his hands bracketing Vox's sides again and thrusting particularly hard. "Say you love TV."
Weird kink, but okay. Vox can do this. He's done weirder shit with Val, after all. A finger gently strokes along his gills. "I- I love TV," he cries out, and Tenna groans.
"Keep saying it!" His voice is low and almost a snarl, and is that fangs? Holy shit! Vox tugs him down harshly with the tie, and as though he could read his mind he latches onto Vox's shoulder, biting down.
"I love TV! I love it so much! It's all I think about! I would let my TV do many sinful things to me!"
With a great shudder Tenna comes, buried deep inside Vox. "Ohhh, yes." He flops down to lay on top of Vox, who is feeling far too fucked out to try and escape. He feels Tenna's cock slip out of him, followed by a warm gush of his come and wraps his arms around the other's body, relaxing into the mattress.
Tenna rolls to the side so they're parallel to each other. "That was wonderful," he says.
"Pretty fucking good, huh," Vox replies. "Congrats, you bagged one of the baddest, hottest demons in Hell. Not many can say that, so. You're welcome."
"I never had a chance to- er, do this with Spamton, but I can confidently say that you are much better at this than he would have been," Tenna says, nose tip drooping for a second.
Not wanting more waterworks, Vox grins and says, "I'd better be. That guy's like, if a rat and a clown had a kid. I'm bigger and better in every way, baby." He's rewarded with a deep laugh from Tenna. A wave of exhaustion rolls over him. Urgh. Aftercare can come… later. Maybe. When he feels a little more functional and not like he's been thoroughly dicked down. "I am just gonna. Lay here. And maybe sleep. You can stay if you want, I don't care."
Tenna hums and shuffles closer, pressing himself against Vox. In the silence, he can hear the faint whir of his machinery. It lulls him to sleep, and as he drifts off, he realises he hasn't thought about Alastor once during the whole thing.