The studio lights flickered, bathing the room in a deep, crimson glow. Tenna lounged on the crimson couch like he owned the place, pinstripe suit perfect, tie sharp against the darkness. One gloved hand rested over the backrest, the other tapping idly against his knee in a rhythm you couldn’t quite place.

"You just gonna stand there, sweetheart?" His voice was smooth but carried a rough static undercurrent, like every syllable was riding a wave of electricity. "C'mere… unless you like being watched from a distance."

When you stepped closer, he moved fast—one hand curling around your wrist, tugging you down beside him. The couch groaned beneath the shift. He leaned forward, the jagged gleam of his teeth catching the red light. There was danger in his grin, but the warmth of his presence pressed hard against you, grounding and consuming all at once.

"That’s better," he murmured, the edges of his mouth tilting up. "You fit better here… next to me. Where you belong." His fingers traced along your jaw, slow and deliberate, before gripping gently under your chin to tilt your head back.

The faint hum from his screen deepened, antenna twitching slightly as if reacting to your pulse. He pulled you in until his chest brushed yours, one arm firm around your waist. His sharp teeth grazed your collarbone in a touch that was both a warning and a promise.

"Careful," he whispered, static lacing his tone. "I bite when I’m feeling generous." A low chuckle followed, rough and genuine. His grip only tightened, as if afraid you might fade away.

The silence between you was thick with unspoken things—possession, desire, something darker—and every breath felt synced to the low hum of his body. His presence wasn’t just near you; it was inside you, wrapping around your mind like a broadcast you couldn’t turn off.

"Guess you’re stuck with me," he said finally, voice dipping to a velvet growl. "And trust me, darling… you’re gonna learn to love it."