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The restaurant is dimly lit with an intimate feel, muffled chatter bouncing off the filigreed walls - a fire crackling away in the center of the room, nestled in an open fireplace the size of a car and filling the building with the potent scent of woodsmoke with none of the haze. The light of the flames dances along Mettaton's finely polished plating, magenta and black mingling with skittish orange and gold flickers, and Tenna feels a smile tugging at his lips.
“You decided? I think I'm gonna have the mercury bisque, but I'm not sure… the fried asbestos sounds good too...” Tenna begins, still a bit undecided in his selection - wanting to bounce his thoughts off of Metta as he usually does. They always end up splitting their meals, so they can both try different things.
“Oh - give me a second, darling. I've got something -… ugh, it's distracting me.”
Tenna gives a curious murmur in reply and unexpectedly, Mettaton pops open his chassis casing as if it were something entirely ordinary and chaste, and reaches inside himself to rearrange the flustered tangle of his wires. “Ah, there we are!”
He hums, casual and not at all concerned, continuing to rummage about his disorganized insides, shifting a wire or two here and there. Someone introduce this guy to cable ties!
Tenna nearly screams - only a sound somewhere between a squeal and a strangled wail escaping his vocalizer.
His signature cherry red suit jacket is off in seconds - record time - and promptly placed around Mettaton's shoulders and tugged closed in the front to preserve his modesty before anyone else in the joint can get an eyeful. “Woah, woah, WOAH mama - time out, doll! Cut the cameras, call the censors - we've got a problem here!”
He keeps his voice low - somewhere between a whisper and a yell - despite his urge to screech out his shock. His quiet panic still garners a few stares, particularly due to the test card blaring on his screen - which Tenna promptly corrects by cuffing himself upside the head and giving it a shake.
Mettaton has the gall to look startled - even confused, as if Tenna weren't the one just treated to a very private show in the middle of a very busy restaurant. Normally he wouldn't complain… but public decency is a thing for a reason, no matter how much Tenna loves seeing his lover’s perfect frame in a state of undress. He doesn't know these people, doesn't want them seeing his love in a state of undress - and doesn't want an article about it printed in the morning paper.
“Now I don't mind if you're into that sort of thing, sugarkisses - but warn a guy first! Holy moly!”
“What? Tenna, darling - what has gotten into you..?”
The look of confusion on Mettaton's sweet face stops Tenna’s bashful tirade in its tracks - almost vacant, like he's searching through his processor for answers and coming up empty handed.
“Doll.” Tenna gently, carefully coaxes Mettaton's slender, gloved hands out of his tangled wires beneath the coat, giving them a little squeeze, and shutting his lover's chassis for him.
“Honey.” He begins, voice soft and carefully measured, a little bit strained. “You can't do that in public.”
Mettaton stares, digits tracing idly over Tenna's own as his hands are held, bewildered until it clicks and a visible expression of mortification overtakes his delicate features.
“It's okay, it's okay - nobody saw.” Tenna shushes him, taking one of those trembling hands into his own and squeezing it again. “It's okay.”
“I didn't know - did I - was I-?” Mettaton stammers quietly, cringing as Tenna nods. With this body, Mettaton has never been shy about flaunting it - but there's a keen difference between showing off his shapely frame with pretty outfits and, apparently, masturbating in public. He hadn't realized there was anything sensual about rearranging his wires given that he's had Alphys rooting around in there countless times without Mettaton feeling anything beyond a tickle or a twinge, yet suddenly it seems perfectly sensible to see it as something private and personal. And embarrassing.
Shame isn't something Mettaton feels - or rather allows himself to feel - very often, in the event that it causes an emotional spiral like the ones he was once, long ago, very much prone to frequently experiencing… But oh boy, does he feel it now.
“It’s okay. We're gonna enjoy our date, yeah?” Tenna begins, tone almost syrupy in how soft it is, “You didn't know, and it's okay. We're gonna enjoy ourselves, and go home, and have a little run-down on these sorts of things.”
Mettaton is still feeling the burn of humiliation, ventilations hitching and stuttering and optic stinging faintly… but it lessens with the sweet patience and reassurance of his beloved Tenna - who smiles at him like Mettaton is his entire world.
“It's okay, beautiful.” He brings Mettaton's servos up to his screen, tickling and kissing them with the warm, fuzzy sensation of static, before releasing them with a pat.
“I promise.”
—
When they walk home afterwards, it's with Tenna’s arm slung around Mettaton's frame like a makeshift blanket. He never reclaimed his jacket - it's still hanging around Mettaton's shoulders like a red stage curtain. It's as if Tenna was wishing to physically shield Mettaton from his own mishap, providing a comforting Tenna-scented buffer between him and the other restaurant patrons. It works - the sting of shame at his own ignorance has faded, replaced with the fuzzy warmth of a pleasant evening and a full fuel tank.
“Thank you.” Mettaton whispers, digits lacing with Tenna's own, coaxing the man to embrace him tighter - and Tenna obliges.
“Don't worry about it, honey.” He hums, unlocking their front door with a quick punch of the passcode - a combination of their chosen birthdays. Not very secure and Tenna himself prefers a traditional lock and key, but hey - it works for them.
The lock whirrs open with a click, and Tenna opens the door and steers his lover inside - taking the coat and hanging it on their rack, before ushering him further inside and to their plush sofa.
“Sit with me a while, doll.” Tenna brushes his flushed cheek as Mettaton sits, crossing his legs primly, hands curled tensely. Tenna takes one, coaxes the digits to uncurl, and massages Mettaton's palm.
“So, your wires and you.” - It's an uncharacteristically clumsy start akin to a cheesy outdated sex ed tape, and elicits a tension-shattering snort from his lover. Mettaton practically melts into his side, the dam breaks - now he's giggling and releasing his nerves with each bubble of laughter.
“Ant!” He cries, as if scandalized, laughter soothing both of them. Tenna just grins, pecking his forehead and squeezing his slender frame closer.
“Alright, alright - c’mere. Let's get serious!” Lifting Mettaton's slight frame into his lap with a cheesy grin, Tenna taps the door of his chassis casing lightly in a silent request for permission, and once granted, pops it open.
“You're a jumbled mess in here, doll - no offense. Just not surprised it's giving you trouble… That can't be comfortable, so we're gonna spend a nice, long evening straightening you out.” He purrs, pulling off his gloves with his teeth and flinging them aside unceremoniously, caressing a stray neon yellow wire with the pad of his digit. The reaction is instantaneous - Mettaton startles and kicks one leg, nearly falling backwards off of Tenna's lap if not for the big hand cupping the small of his back.
“Feels different when it's someone else - someone you love - doing it, mhm?”
“Oh… oh my.” Mettaton whimpers as Tenna’s digit twirls a wire, before snagging it and tugging gently. A full frame shudder rips through Mettaton, his hands flying up to catch Tenna's wrist, optics glitching as the older man continues just gently twirling that single wire - around, and around, and around…
“Tenna..!” His throat feels thick and tight as pleasure singes at his sensors, optics struggling to focus, everything burning hot and smothering and like he's going to erupt into a fountain of flames in a dazzling explosion and -
Tenna releases the wire, watching Mettaton suck in greedy mouthfuls of air to cool his rapidly overheating systems.
“Breathe, baby. You're so pretty…” The hand on the small of Mettaton's back begins to stroke up and down at a sedate pace. “Now you see why I got all worked up, yeah?”
Mettaton's legs feel like jelly, everything in his frame throbbing and tingling, like a song is drifting through his sensors - every single carefully crafted nerve now primed to receive sensation. “Well, I… it didn't feel like that when I…” he stumbles a bit defensively, at a loss for words. “Why haven't we done this before?”
Tenna simply shrugs and kisses his cheek, the cad.
Then he pulls out a box of cable ties from somewhere in the organized mess dwelling on their coffee table, and brandishes it almost like a threat.
“Let's get you sorted. Lay back for me, honey. You're a sensitive little thing... But I'm gonna go in hard - you okay with that?”
Mettaton grins, and lays back eagerly. “Ohh yes~!”
—
Mettaton has long since stopped seeing anything, his optical suite having crashed at one point - not bothering to reset it when it'll only glitch and crash again. His cock rests on his belly, throbbing weakly, a pool of pink cum puddled and dripping over the window to his SOUL. Mingled fluids run down his face - a mix of different optical and oral lubricants - unsightly, probably, streaks of black makeup rolling down his cheeks and staining the sofa below like rivulets of spilled ink. Tenna had rolled up his sleeves in the beginning in an effort to keep his work clothes neat, the cuffs still buttoned tight and straining around his thick biceps - but there's no point anymore, they've slipped into lustful chaos and his shirt is a goner - probably permanently stained with a mix of fuschia and midnight black. Mettaton's arms are wrapped around his frame like twin boa constrictors, squeezing so tight it's just on the edge of pain - grounding both of them.
Tenna's digits are magic, pure sin. Deftly, he seeks and collects each wire he's looking for and bundles it into the growing collection cuddled into his palm, thumb stroking idly over them as he searches with ruthless precision. He's done this before - to himself, perhaps.
“You know, I was a bit shocked at first that Alphys didn't do this for you. She seems the organized type when it comes to her creations - but you looked about as neatly done up as her filing cabinets before I got ahold of you…” He purrs, snagging another wire and tugging lightly until it frees itself from the remaining tangle. Mettaton's hips twitch upwards, thighs shaking nonstop where Tenna rests his substantial bulk between them. Pinning him a little, making sure he doesn't squirm excessively and yank a wire loose.
“But I'm glad she didn't. Because then, I wouldn't get to. Wind you up to my own system all neat and pretty, have you screaming my name… Color?” He checks in, glancing up at Mettaton's undoubtedly ruined face.
“Green..! Please, Tenna..!”
A cable tie is cinched around the finished collection of wires, squeezing them together with the utmost gentleness, and Tenna kneads the captive bundle with his strong digits, leaning down to tickle them with a zap of static. “Done with yellow wires. Moving on to blue…”
“I'm cumming, I'm cumming… don't stop!” Mettaton half sobs half-squeals for what must be the eleventh time just in that hour, his dick giving a piteous series of pulses against his belly and adding to his growing puddle of spend. His SOUL hammers away beneath, beating like the flutters of a hummingbird's wings, rapid and flighty.
Tenna softly kisses the slicked glass, watching Mettaton’s cock twitch and throb - cute and pretty pink like his flushed cheeks, continuing to spill untouched. Tenna’s own is still firmly nestled in his pants, achingly hard and secured away until he's ready for it - although he can't help but grind against the sofa every time Mettaton shivers for him. It throbs like a bruise, and he moans low and deep like a rumble of thunder, nipping at Mettaton's casing with his fangs.
“I know, baby. We're halfway through.” he murmurs against the smudged glass, and grabs the first of the blue wires connected to Mettaton's audial suite. “Too sensitive for your own good… what would you do without me? Wouldn't get this done all in one night, that's for sure.”
Mettaton's only reply is a hard twitch of his thighs, squeezing around Tenna’s middle, heels digging into the small of the bigger man's back. Silently pleading, urging him onward despite the intense burn of overstimulation.
“Oh - ! Remember to breathe, honeybun.” Tenna pauses in his sweetly cruel efforts to massage one of Mettaton's vents as if to remind the smaller man it exists, until it clicks and continues greedily sucking in air, making sure his sweetie doesn't overheat. Then he collects another wire with a long tug, and Mettaton hiccups again, glitched optics rolling back and flickering concerningly. His SOUL skips a few pulses, shuddering in its casing a bit alarmingly.
“I'm cumming..!”
Leaning down to kiss Metta’s condensation-damp forehead, Tenna coos indulgently, allowing the young man to grind his oversensitive cock against Tenna’s clothed belly as he orgasms - wailing and keening as if wounded by the intensity of his bliss, the buttons and stitching undoubtedly catching on the delicate metallic seams in his length and providing exquisite friction - he'll have to send this shirt to be dry cleaned. Somewhere discreet.
He releases the still unsorted wires and tucks them aside, closing up Mettaton's chassis and giving it a soothing stroke, just sitting and waiting for Mettaton’s SOUL to settle a bit.
“Alright, baby. I think you've had enough for tonight… we're done for now.” He croons, low and soft. “We'll pick up another night. Okay?”
“N-No… more, more… more. Green… green.” Mettaton chants softly as if hypnotized, his processor a million miles away - even slipping into color-code lingo to try and spur Tenna onwards with another check-in, but he's functioning about as well as an unplugged television set. His cock twitches nonstop, flushed a dark fuschia tone, Mettaton's frame still wracked with random shivers and undulations.
“No, honey. No. You’ve had enough.” Tenna soothes, and although it pains him to deny Mettaton anything… it's frankly for his own good.
Cupping Mettaton’s ass and shifting him out of his mess, he massages his thumbs into Mettaton's hips - watching as the gentle stimulation triggers another shivery little orgasm. They'll have to replace the cushions again - the cum is soaked in deep already, and it looks like Alphys put glitter in this batch. Probably by request.
“You've had enough.” He repeats again, a bit more sternly - feeling that that last orgasm definitely proved his point. “Alphys is already gonna kill me for burning through all your fluid reserves in one night. Can't go burning out your sensors too.”
“More, more…” Metta gasps and wheezes, and Tenna suspects he's not fully there, slipping his hands under the younger man's frame to lift him and cradle him close, nestled safely against Tenna's broad chassis. He allows his inner processes to rumble more loudly than usual, fans whirring, purring in his lover's ear.
“Pushed you too far, didn't I? You were so good for me, so well behaved… Cut - end scene!” Tenna hums their cliche safeword, and Mettaton falls quiet, his pleading for more trailing off as his lover calls for an end to their playtime.
Tenna waits, patient in allowing his mate to bask in the afterglow - up until Mettaton gives a quiet keening sound as his processor filters back down (or up, really) to baseline function, ventilations hitching with messy, cathartic sobs.
“I know. I know.” Tenna tests the solvent bath he's drawn with a digit, taking a moment to undress one-handed before slipping in with Mettaton still cradled in his arms. “You're so good. You're so good for me. My good boy.”
He combs his fingers through Mettaton's condensation-slicked hair, listening as his overstimulated and overwhelmed sobs trail off into quiet contentment and the fuzzy haze that follows such intense pleasure. Utterly spent, the smaller man lays against Tenna's chassis and breathes, ventilations whistling slightly. His optic has rebooted, but is still a bit fuzzy around the edges, fluttering closed again.
“Sadist.” He accuses in a soft, fond tone once he finally finds his voice, watching as Tenna tends to his own erection with soft moans and happy sighs - and Tenna barks a good natured laugh, reaching his peak soon after with a full-frame shudder that nearly bucks Mettaton out of his lap.
“You caught me, I'm a bad, incorrigible TV.” Tenna’s grin is sappy and blinding as he washes his own fresh spill off of his chassis, his screen tinted pink with adoration as he gazes down at his utterly ruined paramour. “Now let's get you to bed.”