Work Text:
The time seemed to creep by as Spamton waited for a phone call from his benefactor. His anxiety was eating him alive lately. His head pounded and sweat beaded on his forehead. He could swear his ears were ringing, too. It had been over a month since he’d stayed the night with Tenna. Their relationship was over. They’d been putting on the guise of a successful partnership in front of the TV Time crew, but working together only caused them nothing but stress. He took another swig from the liquor bottle sitting on the coffee table as he checked his watch.
2 minutes late.
*ring ring*
Spamton picked up the phone the second it rang.
“H-Hello?”
The voice spoke. It was distorted and breathy, unpleasant to hear, but like all the other things Spamton was addicted to, it gave him a rush.
The task was simple, and Spamton wrote down every detail with a shaky hand.
Peddle a few more advertisements, scam some poor schmuck, steal Tenna’s credit card information, hold onto some money for-
Wait.
No, no, I can’t do that. Tenna would kill me, I can’t-
“I’m not doing [that] to Tenna.”
“Defiant, aren’t you, puppet? You must. The prophecy deems it so.”
“No, no, I- I can’t.”
“You can and you will. You want to keep everything you’ve worked so hard for, don’t you?”
“I’ve already [loss] the most [important and valuable] thing I had! Shit’s only getting worse from here.”
“It’s better this way. You know what happens.”
“Fuck you.”
“Easy with your tongue, puppet. The prophecy cannot change.”
“[$@&#] the prophecy! I’m in debt up to my fucking chin and- and Tenna hates me and-“
Spamton began to hyperventilate.
“Things have to get worse before they get better, big shot.”
“…”
“Work vigilantly, puppet. The clock is ticking.”
The voice hung up.
Tears pooled in Spamton’s eyes as his face twisted into one of pain. He slammed the receiver onto the hook hard. Again. And again. And again. Until the plastic of the phone began to dent. He ripped it out of the wall and slammed it on the ground, attempting to smash it into little pieces, so that maybe, he’d never receive a call from anyone ever again. It was cathartic to destroy the phone. It taunted him every day of his life and every ring was anxiety-inducing.
Fuck me, now I have to get a new phone. Idiot.
Spamton’s whole body shook as he pulled out his wallet, searching for a platinum member credit card that expired months ago. Something that once brought him much pride now sat as a useless piece of plastic in his wallet.
Well, almost useless.
He stumbled over to the coffee table, feeling in between the couch cushions for a dime bag of cocaine he’d hidden in there. He dumped the contents of the baggy onto the table and used the credit card to create a few lines. He whispered a prayer as he rolled up a bill.
“[Heaven], please forgive me. Save my [soul].”
He exhaled deeply before snorting one of the lines. The immediate rush was orgasmic. He grit his teeth and slammed his fist on the coffee table, and took another swig of liquor to bring him down a notch before snorting another line. Despite all of this, there was a looming sense of dread in Spamton’s mind.
Tenna.
What torture it is for the person you love to haunt your every moment. As if he were already dead. He had almost wished Tenna had just ended their partnership and fired him so he’d never have to see him again. It would save him so much pain later on.
Oh, god.
Spamton slumped on the couch. His headache was beginning to subside now that he was high. The picture of Tenna sitting on the end table stared at him. It spoke to him sometimes.
“Spammy, I wish you would just come home. I miss you. Stop all of this and stay with me. I love you.”
Spamton picked up the framed picture and stared. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. There were photos of Tenna scattered throughout Spamton’s apartment. He couldn’t bring himself to get rid of them. He walked into his bedroom and sifted through the bedside table before pulling out a few Polaroids.
The first, labeled “Christmas ‘97”, was a picture of Spamton and Tenna dressed up, toasting in front of a Christmas tree.
The second, labeled “Tenna”, depicted the CRT, lying nude on the bed, posing for the camera.
The third, simply labeled “Mine”, showed a top-down perspective of Tenna, with Spamton’s hand on his torso and his cock buried deep inside him.
I’m so disgusting.
Spamton tucked the photos in his shirt pocket and walked out to the balcony, grabbing a cigar and lighting it on his way out. Lights danced on the horizon as he leaned over the banister. It made him sick to his stomach. As he smoked, he stared at the photos, feeling a deep sense of regret and shame. Especially since they were turning him on. Impulsively, he decided to burn the photos. He watched as the once deeply personal photos withered away into ash on the concrete in front of him. He’d regret this later.
He felt dirty. The hard-on in his pants was aching to be touched but he didn’t want to give in to temptation. Walking back into his apartment, he eyed the paraphernalia on the coffee table along with the framed picture of Tenna that taunted him.
You’re a freak.
A disgusting, worthless freak.
Wasting away when you had everything.
Everything.
Everything?
Tenna.
He flipped the photo of Tenna face down and cleaned up the coffee table. He needed to take a shower. Wash away some of these sins.
Like that’s going to help.
Spamton locked himself in the bathroom. As he began to undress, the thoughts of Tenna only got worse. He pulled off his belt and fidgeted with it in his hands.
One time won’t hurt.
Sitting on the toilet seat, he unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out, stroking it meticulously. He was no stranger to doing things like this, though he felt incredibly guilty for doing it.
Oh, god, what am I doing?
He placed the belt around his neck, tightening the buckle to where it just barely squeezed him. Holding the belt in one hand, he returned to jerking off in the other. In his head, Tenna had his massive hand around his throat, whispering something filthy to Spamton as he fucked him. Spamton pulled on the belt, tightening it further, as he quickened his pace. Stars danced around in his vision as his breathing became shallow. The timing had to be perfect; loosen too early, and the rush isn’t as satisfying. Spamton felt like he had a ball of fire in his stomach. He was close, but everything in his body was screaming at him to stop.
Stop.
This isn’t right.
Stop.
Stop.
STOP.
He released the belt, and the blood came rushing back to his head. All he could focus on was catching his breath. This had never been so… scary before. The hotness in his stomach subsided and he never reached his climax. He had always been in control in these moments, but the fear he felt in this moment was a response his body was not familiar with. Being as anxious as he was, there was much he feared, but this was different. His life was in danger. All for a quick rush. He felt stupid.
There’s no safe word when you’re alone.
He stepped into the shower, letting the warm water fall on his face. For a moment, it was relaxing, but thoughts of the tender moments he shared with Tenna in the shower made his heart sink. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes like little daggers and before he knew it, they flowed from his eyes down his cheeks. He sunk to the shower floor, sobbing into his knees as he ran his fingers through his own hair, like Tenna used to, searching for any source of comfort in this fucked-up reality.
Everything reminded him of Tenna; the shower, the belt, the multiple photographs that littered his apartment that reminded him just how much he fucked up. Nowhere was safe anymore. It didn’t help that he already had to see him everyday at work. As a result, he started avoiding work, often choosing to work from home or staying locked away in his dressing room.
As Spamton sobbed on the shower floor, memories of what happened between him and Tenna flashed through his mind.
***FLASHBACK***
“Spamton, you CANNOT do this shit anymore!”
Tenna waved the dime bag of coke in front of Spamton, who stared, stoned out of his mind.
“I don’t like the way you’ve been acting lately. You’ve been treating me like shit, Spamton. I need you to realize that this isn’t something I can just excuse. I get things have been stressful lately and… I don’t know who’s been calling you but clearly, it’s making things worse. Please, just…”
Spamton snatched the bag out of Tenna’s hand. “Fuck off, [trash heap]. You don’t know [anything you need] about what’s been going on. Excuse me for trying to [chill out with our new] every now and then.”
Tenna bared his fangs at Spamton.
“If it were just every now and then, you wouldn’t act like a dick all the time.”
“You [sign up for free] for this [cathode]! You knew what you were getting into when you asked me [2b or not 2b] yours.”
“I didn’t sign up for THIS. I didn’t sign up for drug-addict, paranoid, asshole Spamton.” Tenna took Spamton’s hand in his. “I signed up for the sweet, charming Spamton that told me everything. My partner. I love you, Spamton. I just don’t want to see you like this.”
Spamton jerked away. “You don’t [hyperlink blocked] me. You want what I have. You’ve always been jealous.”
“I do love you, Spamton. I don’t care about any of that. I care about you.” Tenna caressed Spamton’s face. “Do you love me?”
Spamton said nothing.
Of course, he loved him. He loved Tenna more than anything. More than all the fame and money. He just felt like he couldn’t admit it. The benefactors calls lately have been causing him more stress. Telling him every time to stop getting attached to Tenna. That it would ruin everything. But he couldn’t help how he felt, so doing drugs and drinking away his feelings seemed like the best option. If he can make Tenna hate him, maybe it would make it easier to get over him.
“I guess that’s my answer. I think you should take your things and go, Spamton.” Tenna’s lip quivered and he started to tear up. “From now on, we’ll just be business partners. I see now that maybe we did go too far with this. Let’s just forget we ever did any of this.”
***END OF FLASHBACK***
That was the worst day of Spamton’s life. He’d tried a total of 15 times to apologize to Tenna over that day, but Tenna was firm in his decision. They were through. Spamton had since given up on the idea that maybe Tenna would change his mind. Their relationship was strictly professional now, but it didn’t stop the two from pining over each other in secret. Tenna upped his therapy sessions and cried daily over the breakup. Spamton, well… he turned to substance abuse.
There were many days where he wanted to die. Somehow, he felt like the benefactor wouldn’t let that happen, so he never attempted anything. It was always just a passing thought, something like “You don’t deserve any of this. You don’t even deserve your life.” Or “All of this goes away if you die.”
20 minutes had passed, he’s no more clean than he was when he got in the shower and he’s run out of tears. He figured it’s probably about time he gets clean before the water gets cold. Though, he probably wouldn’t mind how refreshing cold water would feel right now. He stood up and began to wash his hair. He hadn’t showered in days, so his hair was greasy and caked with product. Just another reason to feel disgusted with himself.
He massaged the shampoo in his hair, trying not to think about anything. It felt nice, though his mind did begin to wander as he stuck his head back under the water to rinse his hair.
I miss when we did this together.
“Spammy~” Tenna’s voice rang like a bell in his head.
Oh, god, no.
“Isn’t this nice, Spammy?”
Please, stop.
“I love you, Spamton. Do you love me?”
Yes.
“Tell me how much you love me.”
“I… [I love TV].”
He didn’t realize he said that out loud.
“Aw, c’mon, Spammy. You know that’s not what I mean.”
Shit.
“I… love you.”
His hand wandered down to his cock, which twitched at the mere thought of Tenna’s voice telling him he loved him. Leaning against the wall of the shower, he began to stroke. Slowly, deliberately. As if it were foreplay.
I have to get this out of my system.
As the water began to cool, he quickened his pace, thinking about the only thing that could get him off. In the recent weeks since their breakup, Spamton had tried to avert his attention to other people, inviting over random strangers for a one-night stand, but every time, no matter who it was or how attractive they were, the only thing that could bring him to climax was thinking about Tenna. Sometimes, he wouldn’t get off at all, instead just absently thrusting until whoever he was fucking came and then giving up and telling them to leave. It was a routine for a while, but it became too tiresome to continue. He didn’t have the energy for it, despite the copious amount of drugs in his system whenever having these romps. It was a mental energy that he lacked, one that could never be replenished with drugs or alcohol or sex. He had no desire to have sex with anyone but Tenna. Nobody was half as good as that damn CRT.
“…Tenna”
He squeezed his eyes shut and stroked harder, picturing Tenna behind him. His other hand reached behind him, spreading his own ass and teasing his hole with his fingers. He got an idea and turned off the water, not wanting to waste any more. He stepped out of the shower and opened up the medicine cabinet, grabbing a small bottle of lube and a hairbrush. Though Tenna bottomed most of the time in their relationship, those rare moments when he topped were blissful. Something about the thought of having a massive cock up his ass made Spamton shiver. He missed the full feeling he got when he bottomed. Covering the handle of the brush with a slick coating of lube, he took a deep breath and said a prayer.
“[Angel above], if you hear me, please help me.”
He sat in the tub and carefully pushed the brush inside himself. The initial pain of being stretched made him groan, but it soon subsided and wave of pleasure flooded his body. This is what he was missing. He laid back and pushed the brush in and out while pumping his cock in his other hand. Then, he let himself think of Tenna.
“Fuck, Spammy. You take my cock so well, my perfect parcel.”
“…f-fuck.”
“You feel so good, Spammy. I love you.”
“Huff… I-I love [TV].”
“Ohh, Spammy. I love you, I love you, I love you…”
“…ngh…”
Sweat began to bead on Spamton’s brow as he got more aggressive with his movements. He panted and growled like an animal in a rut, desperate for relief. The coke in his system only amplified the already intense pleasure. He arched his back and jerked his hips upward. The ball of fire returned to his core, threatening to send him over the edge any second now.
“Are you gonna cum for me, Spammy?”
“FUCK! [Idiot box], I [love TV]! Huff… I- [$&#%]. Y-[Say Yes to the], I [love] y-y-y-[U]! I L O V E YOU! Goddamnit, I- ah…” Spamton’s moans were loud and unrestrained.
Cum shot onto Spamton’s chest and face. Not what he was intending, but relieving nonetheless. The brush slipped out of him and he laid in the tub, chest heaving and ears ringing. Unfortunately, the bliss of his orgasm would soon be overshadowed by guilt and a feeling of dirtiness.
Why am I like this?
He turned the shower back on, having wasted enough time for the water to be warm again, and quickly began washing himself. He scrubbed his body vigorously, irritating his skin. His chest felt tight and, somehow, he began to cry again. No amount of soap could wash away his sins. The thoughts in Spamton’s mind were a jumbled mess and his vision began to tunnel. How long has it been since he took a deep breath?
He felt himself about to collapse and stumbled out of the shower. Before even thinking about drying off, he slammed open the medicine cabinet and grabbed an unlabeled pill bottle. He couldn’t quite make out the scratchy writing on the bottle but assumed this would chill him out. He swallowed four or five pills before leaving the bathroom and throwing himself on the bed. He was still wet, and the chill in the air shocked his body back into a semi-normal state. At least he wasn’t panicking anymore. His breathing steadied and he felt sleepy. He was coming down from his earlier high and the new high from these pills was starting to take effect. Everything had slowed down. The thoughts were all gone. Nothing was there.
I’m so tired.
He had enough sense to dry off before crawling under the slightly damp duvet. He hoped maybe these pills would kill him and when he woke up, he’d be in heaven. But he was always an unlucky guy.
When he woke the next morning, he couldn’t remember a thing from the night before. He rolled over to face the alarm clock.
9:37 AM
I’m late.
But it didn’t matter. He had already made the decision not to go to work that day.
*ring ring*
“What the hell?”
Spamton ran into the living room where the smashed phone still lay on the ground. Despite being broken and unhooked, it rang. Spamton thought he had to be hallucinating. Maybe those drugs were more powerful than he thought. But when he picked it up…
“Good morning, puppet. I hope you didn’t think you’d get out of our deal that easily.”
“H-How…?”
“I have my ways. You’d better get into work, my dear puppet. You have much to accomplish today.”
The voice hung up.
Spamton stood there with the phone to his ear, shaking. He quickly got dressed and sped to work. Seeing Tenna was the least of his worries now.