Tron Legacy: Reflection
Title: Reflection
Author: grey_sw
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Clu/Rinzler
Spoilers: TRON: Legacy
Warnings: Explicit sex.
Word Count: ~6000
Summary: Clu and Rinzler visit an oddly familiar energy spring.
Rinzler looked up at him, rumbling uncertainly. Clu's mouth was turned up in a smirk.
"We need a vacation, man."
Notes: Thanks to blue_crow for beta-reading!
Thanks to basalt for the amazing fanart -- click for a larger version! <3 Please leave her some feedback here!
This one was strong, stronger than the rest. Rinzler could sense it. He could taste it in the air between them, in the crowd's fevered screams as they filtered into his helmet.
Rinzler's opponent ducked under his last attack, dodging Rinzler's discs with ease. Rinzler caught them as they came sailing back. The other program settled into a battle-crouch, right in the center of his end of the court, with his disc held at the ready before him. He was tall and slim, a white-lit program with an incongruous mop of red hair. A rebel. Though they'd already exchanged several volleys, his hands were steady and sure. He was strong, and unafraid.
Rinzler would change that.
He let his growl roll out before him, deeper and louder, piercing the distance between them. Then he reached up, crossing his arms in an X above his head. The crowd cheered, pleased with his display, but his opponent never flinched. His eyes were locked on Rinzler's helmet. Watching. Waiting.
Rinzler whipped his right arm down. His disc zipped out at an angle, striking the near side of the court. It skipped off the wall, throwing sparks, and then bounced off the opposite wall in a fierce carom shot. His opponent was already moving, though, closing the distance. He slipped beneath Rinzler's disc in a smooth roll, and then flowed back out of it with no loss of speed. As he rose, he hurled his own disc with a quick snap of the wrist, much faster than Rinzler had expected.
The disc's bright edges sizzled as they cut through the air. Rinzler spun sideways, still clutching his left-hand disc. There was time for one thought to run through his mind -- holding back, he's been holding back -- and then his enemy's disc tore by. It left pain in its wake, pain that shocked him with its offensive unexpectedness. He landed on his feet just the same, disc at the ready.
The arena fell silent. Red pixels tumbled from a small, ragged gash in Rinzler's side. It was nothing, a little nothing, yet it hurt. He'd been wounded, made imperfect. Clu would be angry.
Rinzler was angry. His growl ripped its way out of his throat, so loud it was almost a roar. It was painful in its own right, spurring him on as he charged. His second disc was still bouncing its way back to him, and he snatched it out of the air with heedless grace. His eyes narrowed behind his helmet. All he could see was the enemy, the worthless, meaningless traitor who had dared to damage him. As he hurled himself forward, he seemed to hear his Leader's voice, as if from far away.
Finish the game!
The other program's disc was coming back, too. Rinzler let it, leaning forward so it could slip over his head as he dashed down the court. The enemy caught it, cocked it back over his shoulder, shot it out again--
Rinzler leaped. One foot touched off of his opponent's disc on his way up; for a long moment he hung there in the air like a hunting hawk, discs thrown wide like wings. Then he struck, bowling the other program off his feet. They skidded down the wide, slick floor together, a blur of white and red light. As they slid to a stop, Rinzler plunged his left hand into his enemy's belly, his disc whirring like a buzzsaw. It went so deep he could feel the rebel's code start to come apart all around his glove, even as he tore his disc up and out again.
Half a second later, he ripped his right-hand disc across the program's face at eye level, cutting off his agonized scream. Pixels fell like white rain.
Silence again. Then the crowd cried out in a single voice, a roar so loud it rattled the court's translucent walls.
RINZ-LER! RINZ-LER!
Rinzler barely heard it. He turned, stowed his discs, and stalked toward the exit.
---
He acknowledged no one as he made his way up to the Throne Ship. Word of his anger had spread, or perhaps it was obvious in his bearing. Either way, minor functionaries scattered before him, until the orange-lit corridors were conspicuously empty. Even Jarvis stepped aside without a word, clutching his datapad against his chest like a shield. Rinzler shoved past him into the elevator, jabbed the button, and stood alone in the center until the car began to move.
Lights whipped by as it surged upward, white and red, but Rinzler paid them no mind. His growl was quiet, little more than a half-heard purr, and his helmet hung low upon his chest. When he looked down at his hands, the circuits on his fingers were hardly brighter than the palms of his gloves. He ached all over, every muscle and sinew on edge -- he'd felt it even before the match had begun. He was exhausted. The number of rebels and traitors seemed to stretch on into eternity, and their endless parade was beginning to tax Rinzler's patience. Clu's private initiative had driven them out of the shadows, had made them angry and desperate... and it was always Rinzler who hunted them down, Rinzler who dragged them back to the arena and ripped them apart in the Games.
They'd stolen even that small joy from him. No matter how much energy he drank, the Games felt perfunctory, boring, almost pointless. His anger tonight was the first thing he'd truly felt in a hundred millicycles. Worse, it was already fading, leaving him trapped in a numb cocoon. He knew his Leader would be angry, but even that failed to touch his heart the way it should have. He was tired, tired to the core.
The elevator chimed, and the doors opened. Though Rinzler had half-expected Clu to confront him there, the ship's bridge was empty, dimly lit. Even the yellow stripes along the walls and ceiling burned low, with a subdued glow. Rinzler turned his head this way and that, searching.
No one emerged to meet him. He stepped forward, past the empty monitoring stations, glancing from side to side. The Sentry was missing from his berth. Rinzler crept into the corridor beyond, his senses sharp as knives.
Clu was waiting for him on the other side. He was seated in front of the window, with his hands balanced on his knees. The only light in the room came from the arena far below. It turned Clu into a silent silhouette, lines of gold that blazed bright against the darkness.
Rinzler stood before him, his head bowed in penitence.
"You were wounded tonight," Clu said. Rinzler bowed further. His growl spoke for him, slipping into a soothing, subservient register.
Clu watched him for a moment, saying nothing. His right hand curled around his knee. "You know better," he said at last. "You are better. You need a break, old friend." He stirred, shifting, and his heavy coat whispered across the floor. "We all do. We've been working too hard lately, haven't we?" The words themselves should have been kind, but there was no room for dissent in Clu's voice; it wasn't really a question, and required no answer. Cruelty and amusement danced together in his tone, and Rinzler wasn't sure which to hold onto. Then Clu stood, looming over Rinzler, and clapped a heavy hand down onto his shoulder.
Rinzler looked up at him, rumbling uncertainly. Clu's mouth was turned up in a smirk.
"We need a vacation, man."
---
Not long after, Rinzler stood beside his master, vigilant as always. Tron City twinkled below, outside the window. Behind them, the soft murmurs of the bridge crew at work mingled with Rinzler's electronic growl. He listened, but could discern nothing of their destination. Clu had given the order quietly, in a whisper too soft for Rinzler's helmet to pick up. Clu hadn't healed his wound, either. Pixels still tinkled down onto the floor whenever he moved. And Clu hadn't touched him, the way he often did after the Games.
A punishment, perhaps. If so, he deserved it. He'd failed, proved himself imperfect... and Clu's city glittered below, as if to remind him what happened to imperfections.
Tron. Rinzler's own name, once, but never again. Sometimes he wondered why his Leader hadn't renamed the place -- Perfection City? Cluopolis? -- but in his heart, Rinzler already knew why. The name was a warning, a reflection of the truth: not even the Hero of the Grid could stand in Clu's way. Tron had been brave, brave but misguided; as Rinzler looked down on the city, there was none of that in his heart. There was only a distant sort of pity, of sadness for the self he had been before he'd been perfected.
He fought for the Users. Just the thought of it made him growl a little louder, a little deeper, until it rumbled inside his helmet like thunder. For the Users. Against his own people.
Against Clu.
The city wheeled below, bright blue against the black backdrop of the system. The Throne Ship sailed on past End of Line Tower, on through the heart of Clu's dominion. Slowly, slowly, Rinzler's rumble grew quiet once more. He'd begun to wonder about their destination again, about this "vacation". It could be such, he thought, perhaps a rest period or even a pleasure cruise... but it could be something else, and if it was, he wanted to be ready for it. Clu liked to keep his men guessing. He'd famously told the Black Guard that their first assault on the ISOs was going to be target practice.
In a way, it had been.
Clu shifted beside him. "There it is," he said, pointing out the window toward the horizon. "You see it?"
They were at the edge of the city, now, close to the last developed sector. The Outlands stretched before them, dark and foreboding, a cracked and blasted landscape devoid of energy. Rinzler tensed, clenching his fists. The Outlands were dangerous, risky; there were gridbugs out there, there and nowhere else. Eliminating the ISOs had purged the bugs from the system proper, just as Clu had promised it would, but they still thrived in the empty hills beyond, harrying the edges of the settlements. It was almost as if something was out there in the dark, something that attracted them... but what?
"No, not out there," Clu said. "Down there."
Rinzler's helmet tracked down and over, following the gold stripe on Clu's finger as if it was a light-jet's targeting sight. There, nestled at the foot of the cliffs, was a small dome. The four lines which met at the top burned gaslight blue against the darkness.
Rinzler turned and tilted his helmet, his purr ramping up into an unspoken question.
"I told you," Clu shrugged. "Vacation."
---
Rinzler followed Clu into the dome, with Jarvis and four of the Black Guard just behind him. As the doors opened, he was met with beauty: the inner surface of the dome was covered in a flawless tessellation of a thousand tiny hexagons. They glowed a soft, subtle blue, just enough to illuminate the black gridstuff beneath. The far wall was darker, part of the cliff, a solid column of rock shot through with thin cracks and fissures. Liquid energy bubbled out from them, shining with its own inner light. It poured and trickled its way down into a wide, blue pool. A horseshoe of rocks surrounded it, creating a natural cordon which split the dome into three smaller areas. When Rinzler turned his head, the sound of the water came from the sides, too, suggesting further pools.
The instant Clu's foot crossed the threshold, the light-hexagons flickered out, plunging the room into darkness. Then they lit up again in yellow, one by one, spreading out from the center in waves of gold. This was Clu's place, then, built long ago by his own hands; Rinzler had seen only a few areas which reacted to his presence so strongly. He purred, watching as Clu strode inside. Something about the place called to him, too.
"Well, what do you think?" Clu grinned. He turned and threw his arms wide, as if proud of his creation. "Best hot springs on the Grid."
"It's wonderful, sir," Jarvis said. "Did you build it?"
"Not exactly. The springs were always here, just like the Outlands. They're a natural feature. They were never in the plan, so at first I thought I'd pave over them, but all this energy was too good to pass up... so I built the dome instead. It balances the place. Brings it in line with perfection."
Jarvis stared up at the ceiling, wide-eyed behind his visor. Rinzler moved past him, closer to the water. His bootheels clicked against the rocks.
"This one is for us," Clu said, from just over his shoulder. "Jarvis and the Guard can take the other two."
"Uh, sir, I--" Jarvis interrupted.
"What?"
"I had hoped that I might join you..."
Rinzler's purr deepened into an insistent snarl. He turned to see Clu looking down on Jarvis.
"No. This is for Rinzler," Clu said. His tone was flat and final. For an instant, Jarvis looked as if he might ask again. His brows lifted, and his mouth opened hopefully. Then he closed it, and bowed his head in defeat.
"Yes, Your Excellency."
Clu gave him a chuckle, and reached out to pull him close. "Don't worry," he murmured. His voice was cold as ice. He gave Jarvis' bald head a possessive stroke. Then he leaned in, his lips just inches from Jarvis' ear. "I'll come and play with you tomorrow."
Jarvis' pale skin flushed all at once. His circuits turned a rich pink, too. "Y-yes, my lord," he stuttered. He leaned into Clu's touch so much that he staggered forward when Clu let him go. Rinzler breathed out a silent laugh behind his helmet.
"Go," Clu said. "Leave us."
Jarvis bowed, then scurried around the rocks to the left. The four Guardsmen took the room on the right, leaving Clu and Rinzler alone in the center.
Rinzler looked down into the pool again. It was wide, but not very deep, surrounded by rocks on all sides. Clusters of crystals grew where the water lapped around the edges, thriving in the energy-rich environment. They twinkled blue and gold, reflecting the ceiling and the water in a million tiny facets. He stared at them, drawn by their light. They were almost... they were almost like...
He moved forward as if in a dream, derezzing his helmet. He knelt there by the water's edge, drew his Identity Disc, and plunged it into the water in one smooth motion. Then he lifted it, lifted it to his lips... and stared, uncomprehending, as the energy ran out the hole in the middle and splashed back into the pool. He blinked down at the water through the hole, watching as his reflection broke and reformed. Brown hair. A stern nose. Sharp grey eyes with dark pupils, twin spots of black that burned with the slightest hint of orange. Like his circuits.
Then he moved the Disc aside, revealing the terrible fissure in his face. It was dark, too, a long, open line of dead pixels, each as black as night. It ran from the bottom of his jaw down across his neck, curling in a jagged, stair-step fashion toward his collarbone. For a moment he stared at it, shocked by its lurid ugliness. He could faintly see the inside of his mouth from here, could see the bottom of his own tongue glistening in its nest. Then things fell into place, and he replaced his Disc, looking away from the water.
It was only his wound, same as it ever was. Only the wound Clu had given him, the wound that made him Rinzler.
"Like what you see?" Clu asked, amused. Rinzler glanced back at him, but said nothing; he noticed that Clu stood well back from the water, as if he didn't care to see his own reflection. Shrugging, Rinzler turned back to the pool, gathering the energy-water in his gloved hands. It glowed gently within his palms, soft, ambient blue trapped in black and red. He raised it to his lips, and took a tentative sip.
The energy burst inside his belly like a bomb, wrenching a moan from his lips. So good. This was the real stuff, so different from the energy he lived on day-to-day: pure, unfiltered power, straight from the heart of the Grid. It lit his circuits, his heart, his groin, wiping away his weariness and ennui in a single stroke. He filled his hands again, gulped them dry, then did it again before he could stop to think. He was faintly aware that Clu was laughing at him, but it hardly mattered. All he wanted was more. He leaned down, thrusting his chin into the water, guzzling it up. It stoked the fire within him until it was bright like Tron City, bright like lightning. When he could stand no more he gasped and surfaced again, shivering helplessly. His hair threw droplets everywhere.
Then he derezzed his suit and slipped naked into the pool. It wasn't deep -- he could stand in it, with his shoulders half-out of the water -- but it was delightfully hot, and he sank in down to his chin with a groan. He could feel the energy soaking into him, into his circuits and into his skin. It caressed his aching muscles, and lapped gently against the scar on his neck, seeping inside. Rinzler knew the water wouldn't help; if Clu himself couldn't heal that wound, nothing would. The energy did relieve the dull ache that always plagued him, though, and it soothed the itch that lingered around the edges. The cut his opponent had given him in the arena melted away, too, leaving smooth, unblemished skin behind.
Rinzler sighed, ducked his head under, and swam toward the back of the pool, slicing through the water just below the surface. It wasn't very far, perhaps three or four body-lengths, but it was a pleasure just the same. It felt wonderful to use his body like this, to revel in his own ability.
He'd forgotten how good the power felt.
When he came to the far end of the pool he surfaced, throwing his head back. The cliff looked blank from a distance, but it was surprisingly beautiful up close, criss-crossed by tiny veins of translucent data. The water that poured from it burbled and chuckled its way over the rocks, a simpatico sound. Rinzler's own growl took on a quicker tempo to match. Then he turned, leaned back, and stuck his head under the flow, blowing out through his nose. The water turned the whole world blue, wiping away the slight tinge of red that always filled his vision. Blue was familiar, familiar again. This whole place was.
Then he caught sight of a smear of yellow through the haze. He shook his head, clearing it, and swam forward again. Clu was there, lounging against the edge of the pool. He was naked, half in and half out of the water. His torso gleamed wetly, and the lines on his lower body glowed to match, shimmering yellow beneath the waves. His circuits were so bright it hurt to see him, glutted with searing power, yet Rinzler couldn't look away. He surged forward eagerly.
The memory struck when he was halfway there, unfolding whole within his mind. He had been here before, once, when he was newly rectified. He remembered.
Clu was loving him again, hard and wonderful, fucking him against the edge of the pool. Rinzler was purring, thrumming loud and deep, thrusting back against every stroke. No one had ever made him feel like this. No one had ever wanted him like this, this much, blue eyes alive with endless hunger. He would have remembered if they had. He would have.
"Your directive," Clu gasped. "Give it to me."
"I--"
"Your directive!"
"I fight... f-fight for..." He trembled, teetering on the edge. He wanted this, wanted Clu, wanted it all, but he could barely think for the screaming. Was he screaming? Was that why his throat hurt?
Clu moved, then, thrusting into him once more. Rinzler howled, threw back his head, shoved back against him like an animal. The water was all around them, warm and buoyant, holding them both as they rocked together. He was close, so close, desperately ready...
"Tell me, Rinzler," Clu growled, into his ear. "Tell me who you serve, and I'll never let you go." He wrapped his arms around Rinzler's chest and pulled him back, hard, down onto his unyielding cock until stars swam in Rinzler's vision. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Didn't want to.
Then Clu was shuddering against him, moaning, breath hot against Rinzler's ear. Wet heat filled Rinzler's ass, just like the pool, like the energy, and he couldn't hold back anymore. He came, his whole body going rigid with release, and as he did a cry escaped him:
"I fight for Clu!"
"That's right, man," Clu drawled. "That's right."
Rinzler blinked. He hadn't meant to shout aloud, hadn't even noticed the pain as the words tore through his throat. It didn't matter, though. Nothing mattered now, nothing but Clu's welcoming smirk, Clu's half-hard cock bobbing just beneath the water. Rinzler reached for it, parting his Leader's thighs. Clu leaned back, his eyes drifting shut, and spread his legs wide for Rinzler. Then he reached down and stroked his stomach, his fingers teasing the thick line of hair that ran down from his navel.
Rinzler needed no such enticement, not with his own dick pulsing with the heat of the pool. He moved forward in the water, pressing close until his knees bumped against the rock ledge Clu was sitting on. Then he bent to his work, nuzzling his lips against Clu's cock. He splayed his hands over Clu's broad thighs, squeezing handfuls of muscle. The lines beneath his hands were so bright that he had to squint to get this close. Here was the Luminary at the height of his power, every circuit burning like fire; as Rinzler lifted Clu's cock from the water, he could even see the nigh-invisible circuits that graced it, wire-thin against his swollen flesh. He ran his tongue along one, licking a stripe all the way up the side. Then he took the tip into his mouth, sucking gently. He bent down until the heat of the pool surrounded his mouth again, careful to keep his nose above the waterline. Then he stopped to swirl his tongue against the delicate node beneath the underside.
It tasted electric, heady with energy, and each swipe of his tongue earned him another full-body shudder from Clu. Rinzler could almost see it, a circle of gold sizzling against the heat and moisture of his mouth. He wanted it deep in his throat, in his ass, hard against his back or his belly, wanted it any way he could get it. As Clu's dick grew to full size, so did Rinzler's rumble, rich with welcome. A sweet dollop of energy leaked from the tip, and Rinzler opened before it, his throat working eagerly.
"Rinzler," Clu groaned. Rinzler took him deeper, deep as he could go, pressing his nose against the nest of hair above Clu's cock. He breathed it in, reveling in the mix of energy and heady musk. Clu would soon be ready, ready to come, and Rinzler wanted it, wanted to taste it...
"Rinzler!" Clu said again, his voice sharp. Rinzler pulled back, flicking his eyes up to Clu's face. Clu looked half-undone -- his face was flushed and damp, and one long strand of hair had flopped forward into his eyes -- but he also looked faintly annoyed at Rinzler's failure to respond. He lifted a hand, curling his fingers imperiously.
"Come up here. Now."
Rinzler couldn't help the soft, disappointed sigh he made as Clu's cock slipped from his lips. It slid back into the water with a splash, and the sight make Rinzler's own cock jump. Nevertheless, he crawled up into Clu's lap, wrapping his thighs around him so he and Clu could nestle together. He couldn't resist leaning back into that hard cock, though, couldn't resist rubbing the crack of his ass against it. Clu hissed.
"Ah, not right now!" he growled. "I told you, this vacation is for you. I want to take care of you for once."
Rinzler blinked at him, as if his words did not compute. Then Clu kissed him, his hands reaching up to pull Rinzler close. Rinzler moaned, opening for him, and his cock slid against Clu's stomach just as Clu's tongue slid inside his mouth. He sucked at it, tasting it, using his own tongue to wrestle it where he wanted it. It felt good, so good, and the scratch of Clu's damp stubble against his chin was glorious. It had been so long since they'd kissed like this that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like. When Clu's tongue slipped one last time against his own and then withdrew, it took him half a moment to remember that he was supposed to follow.
Follow. That was what Rinzler wanted. He and Clu were perfecting the system, leading its people to prosperity and power. They were destined to change the world together, hand in hand, and Rinzler wanted nothing more. His greatest fear was not deresolution or failure, but the nightmare he saw in his memories: weakness, subservience, a humble, prideless figure scraping in the dirt before the Users. Tron. Clu had set him free, made him Rinzler strong and sure, and he would follow as long as he was able.
He shut his eyes and made a wish, as if Clu himself might hear and grant it.
He asked for the strength to follow forever.
"Penny for your thoughts," Clu said, an expression Rinzler didn't understand, and then moved in for another kiss.
Rinzler purred once more, slanting his mouth against Clu's, and thrust his tongue inside. Clu's flavor was galvanic -- energy again, such power! -- and Rinzler savored it for a long minute, running his tongue over Clu's, over the inside of his lower lip. Clu groaned, squeezing Rinzler's shoulders tight. Rinzler pulled back, nuzzled against Clu's shoulderblade, and then sank his teeth in, right over the bone. He sucked hard, marking the spot, reveling in Clu's answering hiss. Rinzler always obeyed orders, always, but he liked the space between the orders best. It was best when Rinzler could struggle and strike, testing his master's power; it was best when they were sparring full-strength in the arena, when they were branding each other with teeth and nails and bruising hands. They were the strongest on the Grid, he and Clu, and complacency was not for the strong. Someday there might be someone even more powerful than they, and then he would rule, or she: that was natural law, the perfect law, and even Clu was subject to it.
Would the little mark on Clu's shoulder make him better, stronger, more mighty? Rinzler doubted it... but it was delicious, so he marked the other shoulder, too. Then Clu shoved him back with a grunt, gripping his shoulders tight. His fingers dug in, and Rinzler went limp. He sighed as Clu's clever fingers speared into the soft flesh beneath his neck, seeking out knots. He groaned as Clu squeezed the tight bowstrings of the muscles under his jaw, skirting the edges of his wound. It hurt for a moment, hurt worse than before, and then his muscles let go, relaxing at last. The relief felt so good he thought it should hurt.
Clu massaged him for long, luxurious minutes, muttering under his breath as he hunted for Rinzler's many aches. His fingers played feather-light over the intricate network of circuits on Rinzler's back. Pleasure filled them, an electric buzz as long-neglected connections lit up. They'd been hidden beneath his suit for so long, forgotten in the dark. He sighed, grateful that Clu had remembered them for him. Clu's fingers whispered against his discs, too, sending a thrill of fear through his body. His programmer could make him do anything, be anything, change his code at will... but Clu's hands moved on, rubbing Rinzler's shoulders. They trailed down over his right bicep, down to his wrist, wandering over the bright circuits that marked his first three fingers. Clu stretched them gently, rolling his fingers over each knuckle, and then dug his thumb into the pad of Rinzler's palm. Rinzler hissed as the sharp spike of pain faded into relief.
"There we go. How's that feel? You like that?" Clu chuckled. "Of course you do. Little Rinzler, always so wound up. Let me make you feel good, man. Let me..." He trailed off, as if reluctant to give voice to his thoughts, but his hands spoke for him. They were pleasure and pain all wrapped up together, for Clu was not always gentle. Just the same, Rinzler allowed them to take him away.
Clu's hands were magical, after all. His hands had built the Grid, their world, their home. His hands had defended it for a thousand cycles, had thrown down the User whose weakness threatened to destroy it. They were the hands of a builder, a creator, an architect. They were the hands of a Leader, a beacon, a betrayer.
No. Betrayed. Clu had been betrayed. Rinzler huffed in annoyance. Sometimes he thought it was a good thing that he rarely spoke; he was forever coming up with the wrong words, the wrong thoughts. Being silent had its advantages, too: there were those who underestimated him, who thought him foolish or stupid. Sometimes programs dared to speak sedition right in front of him, as if they'd forgotten he was even there... though they always remembered in the end, always screamed and pleaded once his discs were out.
Besides, Clu talked enough for the both of them.
"Yeah, that's right," he was saying, part of a long string of meaningless words. "Relax for me, man. Let it go, let me fix you, make you better..."
Clu dug his fingers into Rinzler's upper back, into the places that ached from hurling his discs in the arena. Rinzler sighed, bowing his head. The sight of Clu's big arms and broad shoulders stoked his lust all over again. He had to reach out and touch them, to run his fingers over them so he could feel them bulge and roll as he watched. He loved the look of his own long, lithe muscles against Clu's thick, powerful physique, loved the sight of his leaking cockhead rubbing against the strong planes of Clu's stomach. They were a fine match, a perfect match, different in every way.
"Rinzler," Clu muttered. "Mmm, look at you. Look at your little cock, so hard, so fucking perfect. You're so hard for me, and I haven't even touched you..."
Rinzler knew he wasn't "little", of course -- not if the way the Black Guardsmen screamed for him was any indication -- but he liked how the word sounded, liked to hear it in Clu's hungry voice. He liked the reminder that his Leader was yet bigger, too. He leaned down against Clu's cock, grinding against it, but Clu yanked him back up, reminding him of his place.
Clu's fingers slipped into the small of his back, soothing away the tight, tender spots on either side of his spine. Those always ached, and only Clu could ever find them. Rinzler melted beneath his touch, rumbling like an engine. His dick was still so hard, and he wanted Clu to touch it, but another part of him wanted this to go on forever. Everything felt so hot: the warmth of the water around his legs, the throb of Clu's cock against his ass, the sear of Clu's circuits against his skin. Rinzler was bright, too, vivid points of orange against the blue of the water. He rolled the little V on his hip against the circular node on Clu's, just to see what would happen, and then he was panting, gasping, every muscle straining against Clu's body as wild power snapped through his system.
"F-fuck," Clu said, after a moment. "Look at you, man, just look at you, I-- damn, I--" He bit his lip, worrying at it. Then he wrapped strong hands around Rinzler's waist and lifted him up and over. Rinzler splashed down onto the stone ledge, just inches from Clu's side, gasping as the hot water closed over his aching cock. Then Clu surged forward, into the pool and then down... and it turned out his mouth was even hotter.
Rinzler mewled. Clu lacked his own superlative skill, but he made up for it with sheer will, hollowing his cheeks as if he could simply force Rinzler to come. Clu's sucking was hard and fast and almost painful, and so good that Rinzler could barely hold back. He tangled one hand in Clu's hair and thrust into Clu's mouth, just once, just to see what would happen. When Clu failed to derezz him he grinned, purring with pride, and began to fuck Clu's mouth in earnest.
Clu spluttered, but refused to release Rinzler's cock. He gave him that look instead, the one that said I'm the Leader and I'm going to win. The heat in his eyes made the tip of Rinzler's dick jump inside Clu's throat. Then Clu reached around, slipping his fingers between Rinzler and the stone bench. The sharp pain as they breached his ass was almost more than Rinzler could take. His muscles clenched hard, fingers pulling tight in Clu's hair. Clu answered with surprising tenderness, working one finger in, then another. The feel of the pool's hot energy seeping in between them combined with one last hard, greedy suck, and then Rinzler was coming, writhing, every circuit burning past orange into deep, blood red.
He barely felt the licks and nuzzles as Clu cleaned him up, hardly noticed as Clu splashed up out of the pool to sit beside him. Clu leaned back, arching his body in a shameless display. His cock was still rock-hard before him, the tip just barely breaking out of the water.
"Mmm, that feels good. Told you we needed a vacation."
Rinzler just purred. They sat together for a while in silence. After a minute or so, Clu took to stroking himself in long, lazy motions, keeping himself ready. Rinzler watched out of the corner of his eye. He savored the way Clu ran his thumb over the slit, the way he squeezed his glans. All the while, the pool's energy flowed back into Rinzler's system, warming him from within.
They were beyond foreplay, now, beyond waiting. The moment Rinzler was ready, he simply crawled into Clu's lap, pushing him back so he could lever down onto his cock. Clu helped him, strong hands against his belly for balance, but Rinzler did most of the work. He craved this. He ached for it sometimes, even when he was out hunting dissenters, and he always thought of it during long nights on watch. He lived for this, for the moment when he and Clu made one whole being.
Together, they could push past thought into perfection.
Rinzler looked down at Clu, urging him on. Clu's hair was a disordered mess, half-plastered to his head, and his swollen lips were parted with breath. His circuits were even brighter, now, their color edging into molten gold. The complex logic-ladder on the right side of his chest looked like a single bar of wide, bright light, a pattern which nagged at Rinzler's mind. It occurred to him suddenly that he could make Clu do this forever, soaking up the energy of the pool until the two of them burst, or burned. He could end all this. But of course he didn't; he rode Clu until his own cock was hard again, and then he rode him even harder. He reached down, stroking himself, curling his toes against Clu's thighs. He were so close to Clu, now, just where he always wanted to be. His purr stuttered with every thrust and bump, giving voice to his joy. Clu grinned up at him, panting hard. He covered Rinzler's hand with his own, and then squeezed and stroked until Rinzler's growl broke off entirely, swallowed by a pained cry. Rinzler almost felt as if he had burst, splattering Clu's belly with thick spurts of semen.
Clu rumbled, almost like Rinzler himself, and then grabbed him tight. He snapped his hips up once, twice, up and out of the water, lifting them both with effortless might. Then he overloaded, spilling into Rinzler's ass, his circuits blazing like a nimbus. He released so much power that it actually made a sound, a sharp ozone snap that echoed off the rocks around them. They splashed back into the water, breathing hard.
When Rinzler could think clearly again, he found himself sprawling bonelessly on the ledge. His legs were trailing in the water, warm and cozy. Clu was groaning beneath him. His hair was still a total mess, wild and wet against Rinzler's cheek.
"C-c'mon, man, get off." He leaned up, shoving Rinzler over. They spent a long moment on the ledge, soaking up some of the energy they'd lost. Or at least, Rinzler did.
Clu was still very, very bright.
Eventually they hauled themselves over the edge. Clu had laid his long coat out over the rocks, and they both stretched out on it, rolling lazily. The broad yellow circuits that lined it had dimmed, but they blazed again the moment Clu touched them. Their warmth was a fine contrast to the chill of the air.
All Rinzler's weariness seemed to crush in on him again, as if a dense blanket of sleep had covered him. He rolled over, curling against his Leader, and found Clu yawning just like a User, blinking slowly. It was strange to see -- Rinzler couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Clu enter sleep mode, not in hundreds of cycles. Rinzler smirked, snuggled up with shameless abandon, and buried his face in Clu's shoulder, purring the whole while.
Clu sighed, as if in defeat. He wrapped an arm around Rinzler's shoulders.
"My Rinzler," he muttered, so softly that Rinzler could barely hear. "Don't ever leave me."
Was that an order?
Rinzler wasn't sure.
But he asked again for the strength to fulfill it, even as Clu began to snore.
---
Jarvis came around the corner not long after, with a stack of white, freshly-rezzed towels in his arms. He halted at the sight of Rinzler's cheek pressed against Clu's chest, Rinzler's shoulders nestled beneath Clu's arm. Clu's mouth was open, and he was making a strange, whistling User-noise with every breath.
It had been ages since Jarvis had been a codifier in the service of the User, but the tenderness of the sight before him wiped all the long cycles away. For a moment he was watching Tron and Flynn hold each other as they slept, and his own circuits were blue, bright blue, and Clu and Shaddox were surely waiting for his latest report on the gridbugs.
Then Rinzler rolled over, exposing his throat, and Jarvis knew him for the Enforcer, and Clu for the Leader. It didn't change things, though; not in the room, and not in Jarvis' heart. He shrugged, sighed, and left the stack of towels next to the pool, so Clu would have them when he woke.
Then he made his way back around the rocks, smiling to himself as he went. Tomorrow he might be lying in Clu's arms, or so he dared to dream... and all the while, Rinzler's growl marked time between his master's snores.
Author: grey_sw
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Clu/Rinzler
Spoilers: TRON: Legacy
Warnings: Explicit sex.
Word Count: ~6000
Summary: Clu and Rinzler visit an oddly familiar energy spring.
Rinzler looked up at him, rumbling uncertainly. Clu's mouth was turned up in a smirk.
"We need a vacation, man."
Notes: Thanks to blue_crow for beta-reading!
Thanks to basalt for the amazing fanart -- click for a larger version! <3 Please leave her some feedback here!
This one was strong, stronger than the rest. Rinzler could sense it. He could taste it in the air between them, in the crowd's fevered screams as they filtered into his helmet.
Rinzler's opponent ducked under his last attack, dodging Rinzler's discs with ease. Rinzler caught them as they came sailing back. The other program settled into a battle-crouch, right in the center of his end of the court, with his disc held at the ready before him. He was tall and slim, a white-lit program with an incongruous mop of red hair. A rebel. Though they'd already exchanged several volleys, his hands were steady and sure. He was strong, and unafraid.
Rinzler would change that.
He let his growl roll out before him, deeper and louder, piercing the distance between them. Then he reached up, crossing his arms in an X above his head. The crowd cheered, pleased with his display, but his opponent never flinched. His eyes were locked on Rinzler's helmet. Watching. Waiting.
Rinzler whipped his right arm down. His disc zipped out at an angle, striking the near side of the court. It skipped off the wall, throwing sparks, and then bounced off the opposite wall in a fierce carom shot. His opponent was already moving, though, closing the distance. He slipped beneath Rinzler's disc in a smooth roll, and then flowed back out of it with no loss of speed. As he rose, he hurled his own disc with a quick snap of the wrist, much faster than Rinzler had expected.
The disc's bright edges sizzled as they cut through the air. Rinzler spun sideways, still clutching his left-hand disc. There was time for one thought to run through his mind -- holding back, he's been holding back -- and then his enemy's disc tore by. It left pain in its wake, pain that shocked him with its offensive unexpectedness. He landed on his feet just the same, disc at the ready.
The arena fell silent. Red pixels tumbled from a small, ragged gash in Rinzler's side. It was nothing, a little nothing, yet it hurt. He'd been wounded, made imperfect. Clu would be angry.
Rinzler was angry. His growl ripped its way out of his throat, so loud it was almost a roar. It was painful in its own right, spurring him on as he charged. His second disc was still bouncing its way back to him, and he snatched it out of the air with heedless grace. His eyes narrowed behind his helmet. All he could see was the enemy, the worthless, meaningless traitor who had dared to damage him. As he hurled himself forward, he seemed to hear his Leader's voice, as if from far away.
Finish the game!
The other program's disc was coming back, too. Rinzler let it, leaning forward so it could slip over his head as he dashed down the court. The enemy caught it, cocked it back over his shoulder, shot it out again--
Rinzler leaped. One foot touched off of his opponent's disc on his way up; for a long moment he hung there in the air like a hunting hawk, discs thrown wide like wings. Then he struck, bowling the other program off his feet. They skidded down the wide, slick floor together, a blur of white and red light. As they slid to a stop, Rinzler plunged his left hand into his enemy's belly, his disc whirring like a buzzsaw. It went so deep he could feel the rebel's code start to come apart all around his glove, even as he tore his disc up and out again.
Half a second later, he ripped his right-hand disc across the program's face at eye level, cutting off his agonized scream. Pixels fell like white rain.
Silence again. Then the crowd cried out in a single voice, a roar so loud it rattled the court's translucent walls.
RINZ-LER! RINZ-LER!
Rinzler barely heard it. He turned, stowed his discs, and stalked toward the exit.
---
He acknowledged no one as he made his way up to the Throne Ship. Word of his anger had spread, or perhaps it was obvious in his bearing. Either way, minor functionaries scattered before him, until the orange-lit corridors were conspicuously empty. Even Jarvis stepped aside without a word, clutching his datapad against his chest like a shield. Rinzler shoved past him into the elevator, jabbed the button, and stood alone in the center until the car began to move.
Lights whipped by as it surged upward, white and red, but Rinzler paid them no mind. His growl was quiet, little more than a half-heard purr, and his helmet hung low upon his chest. When he looked down at his hands, the circuits on his fingers were hardly brighter than the palms of his gloves. He ached all over, every muscle and sinew on edge -- he'd felt it even before the match had begun. He was exhausted. The number of rebels and traitors seemed to stretch on into eternity, and their endless parade was beginning to tax Rinzler's patience. Clu's private initiative had driven them out of the shadows, had made them angry and desperate... and it was always Rinzler who hunted them down, Rinzler who dragged them back to the arena and ripped them apart in the Games.
They'd stolen even that small joy from him. No matter how much energy he drank, the Games felt perfunctory, boring, almost pointless. His anger tonight was the first thing he'd truly felt in a hundred millicycles. Worse, it was already fading, leaving him trapped in a numb cocoon. He knew his Leader would be angry, but even that failed to touch his heart the way it should have. He was tired, tired to the core.
The elevator chimed, and the doors opened. Though Rinzler had half-expected Clu to confront him there, the ship's bridge was empty, dimly lit. Even the yellow stripes along the walls and ceiling burned low, with a subdued glow. Rinzler turned his head this way and that, searching.
No one emerged to meet him. He stepped forward, past the empty monitoring stations, glancing from side to side. The Sentry was missing from his berth. Rinzler crept into the corridor beyond, his senses sharp as knives.
Clu was waiting for him on the other side. He was seated in front of the window, with his hands balanced on his knees. The only light in the room came from the arena far below. It turned Clu into a silent silhouette, lines of gold that blazed bright against the darkness.
Rinzler stood before him, his head bowed in penitence.
"You were wounded tonight," Clu said. Rinzler bowed further. His growl spoke for him, slipping into a soothing, subservient register.
Clu watched him for a moment, saying nothing. His right hand curled around his knee. "You know better," he said at last. "You are better. You need a break, old friend." He stirred, shifting, and his heavy coat whispered across the floor. "We all do. We've been working too hard lately, haven't we?" The words themselves should have been kind, but there was no room for dissent in Clu's voice; it wasn't really a question, and required no answer. Cruelty and amusement danced together in his tone, and Rinzler wasn't sure which to hold onto. Then Clu stood, looming over Rinzler, and clapped a heavy hand down onto his shoulder.
Rinzler looked up at him, rumbling uncertainly. Clu's mouth was turned up in a smirk.
"We need a vacation, man."
---
Not long after, Rinzler stood beside his master, vigilant as always. Tron City twinkled below, outside the window. Behind them, the soft murmurs of the bridge crew at work mingled with Rinzler's electronic growl. He listened, but could discern nothing of their destination. Clu had given the order quietly, in a whisper too soft for Rinzler's helmet to pick up. Clu hadn't healed his wound, either. Pixels still tinkled down onto the floor whenever he moved. And Clu hadn't touched him, the way he often did after the Games.
A punishment, perhaps. If so, he deserved it. He'd failed, proved himself imperfect... and Clu's city glittered below, as if to remind him what happened to imperfections.
Tron. Rinzler's own name, once, but never again. Sometimes he wondered why his Leader hadn't renamed the place -- Perfection City? Cluopolis? -- but in his heart, Rinzler already knew why. The name was a warning, a reflection of the truth: not even the Hero of the Grid could stand in Clu's way. Tron had been brave, brave but misguided; as Rinzler looked down on the city, there was none of that in his heart. There was only a distant sort of pity, of sadness for the self he had been before he'd been perfected.
He fought for the Users. Just the thought of it made him growl a little louder, a little deeper, until it rumbled inside his helmet like thunder. For the Users. Against his own people.
Against Clu.
The city wheeled below, bright blue against the black backdrop of the system. The Throne Ship sailed on past End of Line Tower, on through the heart of Clu's dominion. Slowly, slowly, Rinzler's rumble grew quiet once more. He'd begun to wonder about their destination again, about this "vacation". It could be such, he thought, perhaps a rest period or even a pleasure cruise... but it could be something else, and if it was, he wanted to be ready for it. Clu liked to keep his men guessing. He'd famously told the Black Guard that their first assault on the ISOs was going to be target practice.
In a way, it had been.
Clu shifted beside him. "There it is," he said, pointing out the window toward the horizon. "You see it?"
They were at the edge of the city, now, close to the last developed sector. The Outlands stretched before them, dark and foreboding, a cracked and blasted landscape devoid of energy. Rinzler tensed, clenching his fists. The Outlands were dangerous, risky; there were gridbugs out there, there and nowhere else. Eliminating the ISOs had purged the bugs from the system proper, just as Clu had promised it would, but they still thrived in the empty hills beyond, harrying the edges of the settlements. It was almost as if something was out there in the dark, something that attracted them... but what?
"No, not out there," Clu said. "Down there."
Rinzler's helmet tracked down and over, following the gold stripe on Clu's finger as if it was a light-jet's targeting sight. There, nestled at the foot of the cliffs, was a small dome. The four lines which met at the top burned gaslight blue against the darkness.
Rinzler turned and tilted his helmet, his purr ramping up into an unspoken question.
"I told you," Clu shrugged. "Vacation."
---
Rinzler followed Clu into the dome, with Jarvis and four of the Black Guard just behind him. As the doors opened, he was met with beauty: the inner surface of the dome was covered in a flawless tessellation of a thousand tiny hexagons. They glowed a soft, subtle blue, just enough to illuminate the black gridstuff beneath. The far wall was darker, part of the cliff, a solid column of rock shot through with thin cracks and fissures. Liquid energy bubbled out from them, shining with its own inner light. It poured and trickled its way down into a wide, blue pool. A horseshoe of rocks surrounded it, creating a natural cordon which split the dome into three smaller areas. When Rinzler turned his head, the sound of the water came from the sides, too, suggesting further pools.
The instant Clu's foot crossed the threshold, the light-hexagons flickered out, plunging the room into darkness. Then they lit up again in yellow, one by one, spreading out from the center in waves of gold. This was Clu's place, then, built long ago by his own hands; Rinzler had seen only a few areas which reacted to his presence so strongly. He purred, watching as Clu strode inside. Something about the place called to him, too.
"Well, what do you think?" Clu grinned. He turned and threw his arms wide, as if proud of his creation. "Best hot springs on the Grid."
"It's wonderful, sir," Jarvis said. "Did you build it?"
"Not exactly. The springs were always here, just like the Outlands. They're a natural feature. They were never in the plan, so at first I thought I'd pave over them, but all this energy was too good to pass up... so I built the dome instead. It balances the place. Brings it in line with perfection."
Jarvis stared up at the ceiling, wide-eyed behind his visor. Rinzler moved past him, closer to the water. His bootheels clicked against the rocks.
"This one is for us," Clu said, from just over his shoulder. "Jarvis and the Guard can take the other two."
"Uh, sir, I--" Jarvis interrupted.
"What?"
"I had hoped that I might join you..."
Rinzler's purr deepened into an insistent snarl. He turned to see Clu looking down on Jarvis.
"No. This is for Rinzler," Clu said. His tone was flat and final. For an instant, Jarvis looked as if he might ask again. His brows lifted, and his mouth opened hopefully. Then he closed it, and bowed his head in defeat.
"Yes, Your Excellency."
Clu gave him a chuckle, and reached out to pull him close. "Don't worry," he murmured. His voice was cold as ice. He gave Jarvis' bald head a possessive stroke. Then he leaned in, his lips just inches from Jarvis' ear. "I'll come and play with you tomorrow."
Jarvis' pale skin flushed all at once. His circuits turned a rich pink, too. "Y-yes, my lord," he stuttered. He leaned into Clu's touch so much that he staggered forward when Clu let him go. Rinzler breathed out a silent laugh behind his helmet.
"Go," Clu said. "Leave us."
Jarvis bowed, then scurried around the rocks to the left. The four Guardsmen took the room on the right, leaving Clu and Rinzler alone in the center.
Rinzler looked down into the pool again. It was wide, but not very deep, surrounded by rocks on all sides. Clusters of crystals grew where the water lapped around the edges, thriving in the energy-rich environment. They twinkled blue and gold, reflecting the ceiling and the water in a million tiny facets. He stared at them, drawn by their light. They were almost... they were almost like...
He moved forward as if in a dream, derezzing his helmet. He knelt there by the water's edge, drew his Identity Disc, and plunged it into the water in one smooth motion. Then he lifted it, lifted it to his lips... and stared, uncomprehending, as the energy ran out the hole in the middle and splashed back into the pool. He blinked down at the water through the hole, watching as his reflection broke and reformed. Brown hair. A stern nose. Sharp grey eyes with dark pupils, twin spots of black that burned with the slightest hint of orange. Like his circuits.
Then he moved the Disc aside, revealing the terrible fissure in his face. It was dark, too, a long, open line of dead pixels, each as black as night. It ran from the bottom of his jaw down across his neck, curling in a jagged, stair-step fashion toward his collarbone. For a moment he stared at it, shocked by its lurid ugliness. He could faintly see the inside of his mouth from here, could see the bottom of his own tongue glistening in its nest. Then things fell into place, and he replaced his Disc, looking away from the water.
It was only his wound, same as it ever was. Only the wound Clu had given him, the wound that made him Rinzler.
"Like what you see?" Clu asked, amused. Rinzler glanced back at him, but said nothing; he noticed that Clu stood well back from the water, as if he didn't care to see his own reflection. Shrugging, Rinzler turned back to the pool, gathering the energy-water in his gloved hands. It glowed gently within his palms, soft, ambient blue trapped in black and red. He raised it to his lips, and took a tentative sip.
The energy burst inside his belly like a bomb, wrenching a moan from his lips. So good. This was the real stuff, so different from the energy he lived on day-to-day: pure, unfiltered power, straight from the heart of the Grid. It lit his circuits, his heart, his groin, wiping away his weariness and ennui in a single stroke. He filled his hands again, gulped them dry, then did it again before he could stop to think. He was faintly aware that Clu was laughing at him, but it hardly mattered. All he wanted was more. He leaned down, thrusting his chin into the water, guzzling it up. It stoked the fire within him until it was bright like Tron City, bright like lightning. When he could stand no more he gasped and surfaced again, shivering helplessly. His hair threw droplets everywhere.
Then he derezzed his suit and slipped naked into the pool. It wasn't deep -- he could stand in it, with his shoulders half-out of the water -- but it was delightfully hot, and he sank in down to his chin with a groan. He could feel the energy soaking into him, into his circuits and into his skin. It caressed his aching muscles, and lapped gently against the scar on his neck, seeping inside. Rinzler knew the water wouldn't help; if Clu himself couldn't heal that wound, nothing would. The energy did relieve the dull ache that always plagued him, though, and it soothed the itch that lingered around the edges. The cut his opponent had given him in the arena melted away, too, leaving smooth, unblemished skin behind.
Rinzler sighed, ducked his head under, and swam toward the back of the pool, slicing through the water just below the surface. It wasn't very far, perhaps three or four body-lengths, but it was a pleasure just the same. It felt wonderful to use his body like this, to revel in his own ability.
He'd forgotten how good the power felt.
When he came to the far end of the pool he surfaced, throwing his head back. The cliff looked blank from a distance, but it was surprisingly beautiful up close, criss-crossed by tiny veins of translucent data. The water that poured from it burbled and chuckled its way over the rocks, a simpatico sound. Rinzler's own growl took on a quicker tempo to match. Then he turned, leaned back, and stuck his head under the flow, blowing out through his nose. The water turned the whole world blue, wiping away the slight tinge of red that always filled his vision. Blue was familiar, familiar again. This whole place was.
Then he caught sight of a smear of yellow through the haze. He shook his head, clearing it, and swam forward again. Clu was there, lounging against the edge of the pool. He was naked, half in and half out of the water. His torso gleamed wetly, and the lines on his lower body glowed to match, shimmering yellow beneath the waves. His circuits were so bright it hurt to see him, glutted with searing power, yet Rinzler couldn't look away. He surged forward eagerly.
The memory struck when he was halfway there, unfolding whole within his mind. He had been here before, once, when he was newly rectified. He remembered.
Clu was loving him again, hard and wonderful, fucking him against the edge of the pool. Rinzler was purring, thrumming loud and deep, thrusting back against every stroke. No one had ever made him feel like this. No one had ever wanted him like this, this much, blue eyes alive with endless hunger. He would have remembered if they had. He would have.
"Your directive," Clu gasped. "Give it to me."
"I--"
"Your directive!"
"I fight... f-fight for..." He trembled, teetering on the edge. He wanted this, wanted Clu, wanted it all, but he could barely think for the screaming. Was he screaming? Was that why his throat hurt?
Clu moved, then, thrusting into him once more. Rinzler howled, threw back his head, shoved back against him like an animal. The water was all around them, warm and buoyant, holding them both as they rocked together. He was close, so close, desperately ready...
"Tell me, Rinzler," Clu growled, into his ear. "Tell me who you serve, and I'll never let you go." He wrapped his arms around Rinzler's chest and pulled him back, hard, down onto his unyielding cock until stars swam in Rinzler's vision. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Didn't want to.
Then Clu was shuddering against him, moaning, breath hot against Rinzler's ear. Wet heat filled Rinzler's ass, just like the pool, like the energy, and he couldn't hold back anymore. He came, his whole body going rigid with release, and as he did a cry escaped him:
"I fight for Clu!"
"That's right, man," Clu drawled. "That's right."
Rinzler blinked. He hadn't meant to shout aloud, hadn't even noticed the pain as the words tore through his throat. It didn't matter, though. Nothing mattered now, nothing but Clu's welcoming smirk, Clu's half-hard cock bobbing just beneath the water. Rinzler reached for it, parting his Leader's thighs. Clu leaned back, his eyes drifting shut, and spread his legs wide for Rinzler. Then he reached down and stroked his stomach, his fingers teasing the thick line of hair that ran down from his navel.
Rinzler needed no such enticement, not with his own dick pulsing with the heat of the pool. He moved forward in the water, pressing close until his knees bumped against the rock ledge Clu was sitting on. Then he bent to his work, nuzzling his lips against Clu's cock. He splayed his hands over Clu's broad thighs, squeezing handfuls of muscle. The lines beneath his hands were so bright that he had to squint to get this close. Here was the Luminary at the height of his power, every circuit burning like fire; as Rinzler lifted Clu's cock from the water, he could even see the nigh-invisible circuits that graced it, wire-thin against his swollen flesh. He ran his tongue along one, licking a stripe all the way up the side. Then he took the tip into his mouth, sucking gently. He bent down until the heat of the pool surrounded his mouth again, careful to keep his nose above the waterline. Then he stopped to swirl his tongue against the delicate node beneath the underside.
It tasted electric, heady with energy, and each swipe of his tongue earned him another full-body shudder from Clu. Rinzler could almost see it, a circle of gold sizzling against the heat and moisture of his mouth. He wanted it deep in his throat, in his ass, hard against his back or his belly, wanted it any way he could get it. As Clu's dick grew to full size, so did Rinzler's rumble, rich with welcome. A sweet dollop of energy leaked from the tip, and Rinzler opened before it, his throat working eagerly.
"Rinzler," Clu groaned. Rinzler took him deeper, deep as he could go, pressing his nose against the nest of hair above Clu's cock. He breathed it in, reveling in the mix of energy and heady musk. Clu would soon be ready, ready to come, and Rinzler wanted it, wanted to taste it...
"Rinzler!" Clu said again, his voice sharp. Rinzler pulled back, flicking his eyes up to Clu's face. Clu looked half-undone -- his face was flushed and damp, and one long strand of hair had flopped forward into his eyes -- but he also looked faintly annoyed at Rinzler's failure to respond. He lifted a hand, curling his fingers imperiously.
"Come up here. Now."
Rinzler couldn't help the soft, disappointed sigh he made as Clu's cock slipped from his lips. It slid back into the water with a splash, and the sight make Rinzler's own cock jump. Nevertheless, he crawled up into Clu's lap, wrapping his thighs around him so he and Clu could nestle together. He couldn't resist leaning back into that hard cock, though, couldn't resist rubbing the crack of his ass against it. Clu hissed.
"Ah, not right now!" he growled. "I told you, this vacation is for you. I want to take care of you for once."
Rinzler blinked at him, as if his words did not compute. Then Clu kissed him, his hands reaching up to pull Rinzler close. Rinzler moaned, opening for him, and his cock slid against Clu's stomach just as Clu's tongue slid inside his mouth. He sucked at it, tasting it, using his own tongue to wrestle it where he wanted it. It felt good, so good, and the scratch of Clu's damp stubble against his chin was glorious. It had been so long since they'd kissed like this that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like. When Clu's tongue slipped one last time against his own and then withdrew, it took him half a moment to remember that he was supposed to follow.
Follow. That was what Rinzler wanted. He and Clu were perfecting the system, leading its people to prosperity and power. They were destined to change the world together, hand in hand, and Rinzler wanted nothing more. His greatest fear was not deresolution or failure, but the nightmare he saw in his memories: weakness, subservience, a humble, prideless figure scraping in the dirt before the Users. Tron. Clu had set him free, made him Rinzler strong and sure, and he would follow as long as he was able.
He shut his eyes and made a wish, as if Clu himself might hear and grant it.
He asked for the strength to follow forever.
"Penny for your thoughts," Clu said, an expression Rinzler didn't understand, and then moved in for another kiss.
Rinzler purred once more, slanting his mouth against Clu's, and thrust his tongue inside. Clu's flavor was galvanic -- energy again, such power! -- and Rinzler savored it for a long minute, running his tongue over Clu's, over the inside of his lower lip. Clu groaned, squeezing Rinzler's shoulders tight. Rinzler pulled back, nuzzled against Clu's shoulderblade, and then sank his teeth in, right over the bone. He sucked hard, marking the spot, reveling in Clu's answering hiss. Rinzler always obeyed orders, always, but he liked the space between the orders best. It was best when Rinzler could struggle and strike, testing his master's power; it was best when they were sparring full-strength in the arena, when they were branding each other with teeth and nails and bruising hands. They were the strongest on the Grid, he and Clu, and complacency was not for the strong. Someday there might be someone even more powerful than they, and then he would rule, or she: that was natural law, the perfect law, and even Clu was subject to it.
Would the little mark on Clu's shoulder make him better, stronger, more mighty? Rinzler doubted it... but it was delicious, so he marked the other shoulder, too. Then Clu shoved him back with a grunt, gripping his shoulders tight. His fingers dug in, and Rinzler went limp. He sighed as Clu's clever fingers speared into the soft flesh beneath his neck, seeking out knots. He groaned as Clu squeezed the tight bowstrings of the muscles under his jaw, skirting the edges of his wound. It hurt for a moment, hurt worse than before, and then his muscles let go, relaxing at last. The relief felt so good he thought it should hurt.
Clu massaged him for long, luxurious minutes, muttering under his breath as he hunted for Rinzler's many aches. His fingers played feather-light over the intricate network of circuits on Rinzler's back. Pleasure filled them, an electric buzz as long-neglected connections lit up. They'd been hidden beneath his suit for so long, forgotten in the dark. He sighed, grateful that Clu had remembered them for him. Clu's fingers whispered against his discs, too, sending a thrill of fear through his body. His programmer could make him do anything, be anything, change his code at will... but Clu's hands moved on, rubbing Rinzler's shoulders. They trailed down over his right bicep, down to his wrist, wandering over the bright circuits that marked his first three fingers. Clu stretched them gently, rolling his fingers over each knuckle, and then dug his thumb into the pad of Rinzler's palm. Rinzler hissed as the sharp spike of pain faded into relief.
"There we go. How's that feel? You like that?" Clu chuckled. "Of course you do. Little Rinzler, always so wound up. Let me make you feel good, man. Let me..." He trailed off, as if reluctant to give voice to his thoughts, but his hands spoke for him. They were pleasure and pain all wrapped up together, for Clu was not always gentle. Just the same, Rinzler allowed them to take him away.
Clu's hands were magical, after all. His hands had built the Grid, their world, their home. His hands had defended it for a thousand cycles, had thrown down the User whose weakness threatened to destroy it. They were the hands of a builder, a creator, an architect. They were the hands of a Leader, a beacon, a betrayer.
No. Betrayed. Clu had been betrayed. Rinzler huffed in annoyance. Sometimes he thought it was a good thing that he rarely spoke; he was forever coming up with the wrong words, the wrong thoughts. Being silent had its advantages, too: there were those who underestimated him, who thought him foolish or stupid. Sometimes programs dared to speak sedition right in front of him, as if they'd forgotten he was even there... though they always remembered in the end, always screamed and pleaded once his discs were out.
Besides, Clu talked enough for the both of them.
"Yeah, that's right," he was saying, part of a long string of meaningless words. "Relax for me, man. Let it go, let me fix you, make you better..."
Clu dug his fingers into Rinzler's upper back, into the places that ached from hurling his discs in the arena. Rinzler sighed, bowing his head. The sight of Clu's big arms and broad shoulders stoked his lust all over again. He had to reach out and touch them, to run his fingers over them so he could feel them bulge and roll as he watched. He loved the look of his own long, lithe muscles against Clu's thick, powerful physique, loved the sight of his leaking cockhead rubbing against the strong planes of Clu's stomach. They were a fine match, a perfect match, different in every way.
"Rinzler," Clu muttered. "Mmm, look at you. Look at your little cock, so hard, so fucking perfect. You're so hard for me, and I haven't even touched you..."
Rinzler knew he wasn't "little", of course -- not if the way the Black Guardsmen screamed for him was any indication -- but he liked how the word sounded, liked to hear it in Clu's hungry voice. He liked the reminder that his Leader was yet bigger, too. He leaned down against Clu's cock, grinding against it, but Clu yanked him back up, reminding him of his place.
Clu's fingers slipped into the small of his back, soothing away the tight, tender spots on either side of his spine. Those always ached, and only Clu could ever find them. Rinzler melted beneath his touch, rumbling like an engine. His dick was still so hard, and he wanted Clu to touch it, but another part of him wanted this to go on forever. Everything felt so hot: the warmth of the water around his legs, the throb of Clu's cock against his ass, the sear of Clu's circuits against his skin. Rinzler was bright, too, vivid points of orange against the blue of the water. He rolled the little V on his hip against the circular node on Clu's, just to see what would happen, and then he was panting, gasping, every muscle straining against Clu's body as wild power snapped through his system.
"F-fuck," Clu said, after a moment. "Look at you, man, just look at you, I-- damn, I--" He bit his lip, worrying at it. Then he wrapped strong hands around Rinzler's waist and lifted him up and over. Rinzler splashed down onto the stone ledge, just inches from Clu's side, gasping as the hot water closed over his aching cock. Then Clu surged forward, into the pool and then down... and it turned out his mouth was even hotter.
Rinzler mewled. Clu lacked his own superlative skill, but he made up for it with sheer will, hollowing his cheeks as if he could simply force Rinzler to come. Clu's sucking was hard and fast and almost painful, and so good that Rinzler could barely hold back. He tangled one hand in Clu's hair and thrust into Clu's mouth, just once, just to see what would happen. When Clu failed to derezz him he grinned, purring with pride, and began to fuck Clu's mouth in earnest.
Clu spluttered, but refused to release Rinzler's cock. He gave him that look instead, the one that said I'm the Leader and I'm going to win. The heat in his eyes made the tip of Rinzler's dick jump inside Clu's throat. Then Clu reached around, slipping his fingers between Rinzler and the stone bench. The sharp pain as they breached his ass was almost more than Rinzler could take. His muscles clenched hard, fingers pulling tight in Clu's hair. Clu answered with surprising tenderness, working one finger in, then another. The feel of the pool's hot energy seeping in between them combined with one last hard, greedy suck, and then Rinzler was coming, writhing, every circuit burning past orange into deep, blood red.
He barely felt the licks and nuzzles as Clu cleaned him up, hardly noticed as Clu splashed up out of the pool to sit beside him. Clu leaned back, arching his body in a shameless display. His cock was still rock-hard before him, the tip just barely breaking out of the water.
"Mmm, that feels good. Told you we needed a vacation."
Rinzler just purred. They sat together for a while in silence. After a minute or so, Clu took to stroking himself in long, lazy motions, keeping himself ready. Rinzler watched out of the corner of his eye. He savored the way Clu ran his thumb over the slit, the way he squeezed his glans. All the while, the pool's energy flowed back into Rinzler's system, warming him from within.
They were beyond foreplay, now, beyond waiting. The moment Rinzler was ready, he simply crawled into Clu's lap, pushing him back so he could lever down onto his cock. Clu helped him, strong hands against his belly for balance, but Rinzler did most of the work. He craved this. He ached for it sometimes, even when he was out hunting dissenters, and he always thought of it during long nights on watch. He lived for this, for the moment when he and Clu made one whole being.
Together, they could push past thought into perfection.
Rinzler looked down at Clu, urging him on. Clu's hair was a disordered mess, half-plastered to his head, and his swollen lips were parted with breath. His circuits were even brighter, now, their color edging into molten gold. The complex logic-ladder on the right side of his chest looked like a single bar of wide, bright light, a pattern which nagged at Rinzler's mind. It occurred to him suddenly that he could make Clu do this forever, soaking up the energy of the pool until the two of them burst, or burned. He could end all this. But of course he didn't; he rode Clu until his own cock was hard again, and then he rode him even harder. He reached down, stroking himself, curling his toes against Clu's thighs. He were so close to Clu, now, just where he always wanted to be. His purr stuttered with every thrust and bump, giving voice to his joy. Clu grinned up at him, panting hard. He covered Rinzler's hand with his own, and then squeezed and stroked until Rinzler's growl broke off entirely, swallowed by a pained cry. Rinzler almost felt as if he had burst, splattering Clu's belly with thick spurts of semen.
Clu rumbled, almost like Rinzler himself, and then grabbed him tight. He snapped his hips up once, twice, up and out of the water, lifting them both with effortless might. Then he overloaded, spilling into Rinzler's ass, his circuits blazing like a nimbus. He released so much power that it actually made a sound, a sharp ozone snap that echoed off the rocks around them. They splashed back into the water, breathing hard.
When Rinzler could think clearly again, he found himself sprawling bonelessly on the ledge. His legs were trailing in the water, warm and cozy. Clu was groaning beneath him. His hair was still a total mess, wild and wet against Rinzler's cheek.
"C-c'mon, man, get off." He leaned up, shoving Rinzler over. They spent a long moment on the ledge, soaking up some of the energy they'd lost. Or at least, Rinzler did.
Clu was still very, very bright.
Eventually they hauled themselves over the edge. Clu had laid his long coat out over the rocks, and they both stretched out on it, rolling lazily. The broad yellow circuits that lined it had dimmed, but they blazed again the moment Clu touched them. Their warmth was a fine contrast to the chill of the air.
All Rinzler's weariness seemed to crush in on him again, as if a dense blanket of sleep had covered him. He rolled over, curling against his Leader, and found Clu yawning just like a User, blinking slowly. It was strange to see -- Rinzler couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Clu enter sleep mode, not in hundreds of cycles. Rinzler smirked, snuggled up with shameless abandon, and buried his face in Clu's shoulder, purring the whole while.
Clu sighed, as if in defeat. He wrapped an arm around Rinzler's shoulders.
"My Rinzler," he muttered, so softly that Rinzler could barely hear. "Don't ever leave me."
Was that an order?
Rinzler wasn't sure.
But he asked again for the strength to fulfill it, even as Clu began to snore.
---
Jarvis came around the corner not long after, with a stack of white, freshly-rezzed towels in his arms. He halted at the sight of Rinzler's cheek pressed against Clu's chest, Rinzler's shoulders nestled beneath Clu's arm. Clu's mouth was open, and he was making a strange, whistling User-noise with every breath.
It had been ages since Jarvis had been a codifier in the service of the User, but the tenderness of the sight before him wiped all the long cycles away. For a moment he was watching Tron and Flynn hold each other as they slept, and his own circuits were blue, bright blue, and Clu and Shaddox were surely waiting for his latest report on the gridbugs.
Then Rinzler rolled over, exposing his throat, and Jarvis knew him for the Enforcer, and Clu for the Leader. It didn't change things, though; not in the room, and not in Jarvis' heart. He shrugged, sighed, and left the stack of towels next to the pool, so Clu would have them when he woke.
Then he made his way back around the rocks, smiling to himself as he went. Tomorrow he might be lying in Clu's arms, or so he dared to dream... and all the while, Rinzler's growl marked time between his master's snores.