Fic: Tron: Mercy, part 2 (Tron/Alan)
Part 2 of lixia84's fic :)
Title: Mercy, pt 2/2
Fandom: Tron
Pairing: Tron/Alan
Rating: NC-17
Kinks: BDSM, delayed gratification, dom/sub relationship. On which note, Tron and Alan's personal philosophy of their relationship isn't to suggest that everyone who chooses that lifestyle thinks the same way they do - it's their own particular take on what it means for them. :)
Wordcount: About 1800
Summary: “The most profound and beautiful expression of free will was to entrust it to another. “
First part is here
Mercy, Part 2
“Please, User,” Tron whispered.
“'Please' is not a reason, Program. Why do you deserve my mercy?”
Alan-One's long fingers were wrapped tightly round his cock, but they remained motionless, not even squeezing. Tron badly wanted to lift his hips, thrust into the tormenting touch to gain the friction he so desperately needed. He controlled himself, however. If he displeased Alan-One at this point, his User might leave again. The thought was unbearable. Tron was disciplined. He could maintain his self-control...a little longer.
Only a little.
Microseconds, perhaps.
Between shuddering breaths he made his case. “I...have always obeyed your instructions, User. Promptly.”
“Always, Program?”
“Yes, User!”
The last word almost became a scream as Alan-One's fingers squeezed his cock, hard. Tron could not tell whether this was intended as a reward or punishment; by this point, he was past caring, desperate for any kind of stimulation.
“Maybe not always,” Alan-One corrected, idly circling the head of Tron's swollen cock with his thumb. “Though on the occasions when you didn't, it wasn't your fault. All right, Program. You've earned your first reward.”
Tron groaned, lifting his hips eagerly as Alan-One slowly stroked the length of his cock, once, twice...and stopped. Tron whimpered with disappointment.
“Stop moving,” Alan-One instructed him, adding crisply, “I don't believe I gave you permission to do that. You may,” and despite the sharpness of his tone, Tron knew Alan-One's eyes would be sparkling with mischief, “continue to moan.”
Tron stilled obediently, breath coming in harsh gasps, giving vent to his need with a throaty groan. Alan-One gave an approving hum; his hand began to move again, slow, lingering strokes of Tron's cock. “Good, Program,” Alan-One murmured. “Very good.”
The stroking stopped momentarily, but just as Tron was wondering what he'd done wrong, the touch returned - and it was different. Slick, initially cool against his skin, quickly becoming warm and tingly as Alan-One's hand moved, unbearably slowly, up and down, coating Tron's cock thoroughly. Some kind of lubricant, Tron realised, moaning again at the new sensation.
He had expected Alan-One to stop before the next instruction. Instead the stroking continued, never changing in tempo or firmness as his User spoke in businesslike, matter-of-fact tones (though if Tron had not been so overwhelmed he might have recognised the slight throatiness which betrayed Alan-One's own arousal).
“This is very important, Program. I imagine you're enjoying how this feels?”
“Yes, User,” Tron whimpered.
“Then your next task is going to be difficult. I have no doubt you're up to the challenge, but if not...” Alan-One let the half-completed threat hang in the air.
“What -” Tron's voice cracked; he licked dry lips and tried again, “what is your command, User?”
“It's quite simple, Program. You are not to climax until I give permission. We've practised that before, haven't we? This will be the real test, though. You've already given me your heart and soul. Now I'm asking you to give me complete control over your mind and body. If you have faith in me, your body won't betray you. You'll come when I say, and not before.”
Tron shuddered convulsively. He was already close to climax; he felt he could have reached it even without further physical stimulation. Alan-One's voice - so like Tron's own, and yet so different - could have been enough. And yet, he had faith in his User. If Alan-One said he could do this, it must be possible. He swallowed, nodded.
“Good.” Alan-One continued the slow, steady, unvarying stroke. The consistency was unbearably pleasurable. Remembering that he had permission to moan as much as he wanted, Tron channelled his building orgasm into sound, groaning and whimpering with each stroke.
Time passed. Hours...
-x-x-x-x-x
Minutes...two...now three of them. Alan had tremendous confidence in Tron's self-discipline; nonetheless, having been aware just how close his program had been to orgasm when Alan had instructed him to hold back, he was amazed at Tron's control. Moved, as well - he knew how much it must be costing Tron to deny himself the release he so desperately needed, the pleasure he deserved.
Alan's own arousal would not allow him to prolong the torment for much longer. His free hand strayed to his own cock. He was definitely ready to take this experiment to the next level.
“Program.”
A strangled mewl answered him, no words clearly discernible. Alan smiled to himself. “This is what I want you to do,” he began to explain, giving both cocks a last lingering stroke before getting up. Tron remained silent, obedient, waiting, as Alan removed the ropes binding his feet and torso. His program's hands he left tied; left the blindfold, as well, for the moment. Tron's breathing was fast, erratic. Alan, placing a hand briefly on his chest, could feel the powerful heart racing in tandem with his own.
“All right,” Alan said, softly. “we're almost ready. Concentrate, Program - your task is about to become much harder.”
-x-x-x-x-x
Tron remained still as some of his bonds were removed, eager to prove that ropes weren't needed to restrain him: Alan-One's command was enough. His head was swimming with the effort to withhold his climax, teeth gritted, sweat soaking into the bedsheets beneath him. He was almost relieved to have respite from Alan-One's touch for a time.
Seconds.
Tron heard and felt Alan-One kneeling on the bed in front of him. “Lift your hips,” his User commanded. When Tron complied, a pillow was placed beneath his backside, raising him a little higher, providing, Tron realised with an increased rush of desire, easier access.
Alan-One's hand was back on Tron's cock, resuming those slow, even, tormenting strokes. Tron shuddered, resisted his body's urge to thrust up into the caress. Alan-One gave a low murmur of approval. Tron, bolstered by this, reaffirmed his determination to obey his User's command; even if the frustration killed him, he would not climax without permission.
Just as he had begun to believe such restraint might be possible, Alan-One took the experience to a new level. A slick finger slid inside Tron, then another, stretching him gently, penetrating him in steady thrusts which matched exactly the tempo of the strokes still stimulating his cock.
Tron whimpered.
“Was that a complaint, Program?”
“N-no, User,” he managed, trembling with effort.
“Good. You want me to continue, don't you?”
“Yes, User.”
“You want to be tested, to be proved worthy. You want the rewards only I can give you in return for your obedience.”
“Yes, User.” Speech was barely possible, now, but Alan-One appeared to have understood the half-moaned words.
“Then earn them, Program. When I decide you're ready, I'm going to stop stroking your cock. Then I'm going to take you. I'm going to enter you in one hard thrust and when I do, and only then, you're going to come. Immediately. Do you understand these instructions, Program?”
“Y-yes, User,” Tron managed to gasp out.
“Good.”
-x-x-x-x-x
It didn't take very long, in the end, for Alan to decide that Tron was ready; he had hoped to draw this out for longer, but his own needs were becoming pressing, and after all, there was always next time...when he was sure he had prepared Tron sufficiently to prevent the risk of any injury, he withdrew his touch entirely, and reached up to remove Tron's blindfold.
“I want to see you react to this,” he informed his program. “Keep your eyes open. Look at me when I take you.”
Tron's eyes were wide, the pupils dilated. Beautiful. Now that Tron could see him, Alan forced himself to maintain a mask of cool, detached authority, despite the leap of his heart at how wonderfully debauched his program looked like this. Their gazes locked, Alan watched him for as long as he could stand to wait, watched as Tron struggled to maintain control even in the absence of physical stimulation. Perhaps next time Alan would instruct him to come without being touched at all...for now, however...
Alan knelt up, positioning himself so that the head of his cock millimetres from Tron's entrance. "Raise our legs and put your ankles on my shoulders,” he instructed Tron, who complied, limbs trembling. Alan nodded approval, placing his hands on Tron's legs to steady them. His gaze still locked on Tron's, he rocked his hips back, then sharply forward, entering with a single strong thrust.
-x-x-x-x-x
Meeting Alan-One's cool stare would surely make the test more difficult still. Somehow, Tron managed to control himself as his User placed them both in position, preparing for the final task. As Tron gazed into his User's eyes, desperately resisting the urge to close his own, he found a reserve of strength he hadn't been aware he possessed. Doubts were banished by a clear white light that seemed to fill him from within, spilling out into the room, bathing them both in its glory. Tron knew in that moment that he could, and would, carry out his User's command successfully - because it was not he who willed it, but Alan-One. As his User thrust powerfully into him, perfectly locating that spot which made the world spin, Tron relinquished the last of his control, felt his body responding only, completely, to Alan-One's will. There was no effort, no striving on Tron's part. His body was no longer his to command. He was free of it - blessedly, beautifully free.
-x-x-x-x-x
Alan watched Tron intently, no longer able to maintain his own illusion of impassivity. The near-anguished effort contorting his program's face vanished as Alan entered him; Tron's face relaxed into a beatific, transcendental smile, his open eyes glazing, hips moving smoothly upward to meet Alan's thrust, as, with a long, moaning sigh of complete and blissful release, Tron obeyed his User's command, and came.
Alan, overwhelmed by the sight, followed his program over the edge of ecstasy, taken by surprise at the suddenness of it: an intense, profound climax so absolutely fulfilling that his mind blanked completely for a few seconds as his body bucked and shuddered. Cries he was scarcely aware of making were muffled in his ears, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. After a time - minutes, hours; days, perhaps - he slowly recovered his senses to find his program gazing up at him with tranquil adoration.
“Did I pass the test, my User?” Tron asked, softly.
Alan leaned forward, placed a hand on his program's damp chest; measuring the slowing heartbeat, finding it still in tandem with his own, he answered,
“We both did, my love.”
Title: Mercy, pt 2/2
Fandom: Tron
Pairing: Tron/Alan
Rating: NC-17
Kinks: BDSM, delayed gratification, dom/sub relationship. On which note, Tron and Alan's personal philosophy of their relationship isn't to suggest that everyone who chooses that lifestyle thinks the same way they do - it's their own particular take on what it means for them. :)
Wordcount: About 1800
Summary: “The most profound and beautiful expression of free will was to entrust it to another. “
First part is here
Mercy, Part 2
“Please, User,” Tron whispered.
“'Please' is not a reason, Program. Why do you deserve my mercy?”
Alan-One's long fingers were wrapped tightly round his cock, but they remained motionless, not even squeezing. Tron badly wanted to lift his hips, thrust into the tormenting touch to gain the friction he so desperately needed. He controlled himself, however. If he displeased Alan-One at this point, his User might leave again. The thought was unbearable. Tron was disciplined. He could maintain his self-control...a little longer.
Only a little.
Microseconds, perhaps.
Between shuddering breaths he made his case. “I...have always obeyed your instructions, User. Promptly.”
“Always, Program?”
“Yes, User!”
The last word almost became a scream as Alan-One's fingers squeezed his cock, hard. Tron could not tell whether this was intended as a reward or punishment; by this point, he was past caring, desperate for any kind of stimulation.
“Maybe not always,” Alan-One corrected, idly circling the head of Tron's swollen cock with his thumb. “Though on the occasions when you didn't, it wasn't your fault. All right, Program. You've earned your first reward.”
Tron groaned, lifting his hips eagerly as Alan-One slowly stroked the length of his cock, once, twice...and stopped. Tron whimpered with disappointment.
“Stop moving,” Alan-One instructed him, adding crisply, “I don't believe I gave you permission to do that. You may,” and despite the sharpness of his tone, Tron knew Alan-One's eyes would be sparkling with mischief, “continue to moan.”
Tron stilled obediently, breath coming in harsh gasps, giving vent to his need with a throaty groan. Alan-One gave an approving hum; his hand began to move again, slow, lingering strokes of Tron's cock. “Good, Program,” Alan-One murmured. “Very good.”
The stroking stopped momentarily, but just as Tron was wondering what he'd done wrong, the touch returned - and it was different. Slick, initially cool against his skin, quickly becoming warm and tingly as Alan-One's hand moved, unbearably slowly, up and down, coating Tron's cock thoroughly. Some kind of lubricant, Tron realised, moaning again at the new sensation.
He had expected Alan-One to stop before the next instruction. Instead the stroking continued, never changing in tempo or firmness as his User spoke in businesslike, matter-of-fact tones (though if Tron had not been so overwhelmed he might have recognised the slight throatiness which betrayed Alan-One's own arousal).
“This is very important, Program. I imagine you're enjoying how this feels?”
“Yes, User,” Tron whimpered.
“Then your next task is going to be difficult. I have no doubt you're up to the challenge, but if not...” Alan-One let the half-completed threat hang in the air.
“What -” Tron's voice cracked; he licked dry lips and tried again, “what is your command, User?”
“It's quite simple, Program. You are not to climax until I give permission. We've practised that before, haven't we? This will be the real test, though. You've already given me your heart and soul. Now I'm asking you to give me complete control over your mind and body. If you have faith in me, your body won't betray you. You'll come when I say, and not before.”
Tron shuddered convulsively. He was already close to climax; he felt he could have reached it even without further physical stimulation. Alan-One's voice - so like Tron's own, and yet so different - could have been enough. And yet, he had faith in his User. If Alan-One said he could do this, it must be possible. He swallowed, nodded.
“Good.” Alan-One continued the slow, steady, unvarying stroke. The consistency was unbearably pleasurable. Remembering that he had permission to moan as much as he wanted, Tron channelled his building orgasm into sound, groaning and whimpering with each stroke.
Time passed. Hours...
-x-x-x-x-x
Minutes...two...now three of them. Alan had tremendous confidence in Tron's self-discipline; nonetheless, having been aware just how close his program had been to orgasm when Alan had instructed him to hold back, he was amazed at Tron's control. Moved, as well - he knew how much it must be costing Tron to deny himself the release he so desperately needed, the pleasure he deserved.
Alan's own arousal would not allow him to prolong the torment for much longer. His free hand strayed to his own cock. He was definitely ready to take this experiment to the next level.
“Program.”
A strangled mewl answered him, no words clearly discernible. Alan smiled to himself. “This is what I want you to do,” he began to explain, giving both cocks a last lingering stroke before getting up. Tron remained silent, obedient, waiting, as Alan removed the ropes binding his feet and torso. His program's hands he left tied; left the blindfold, as well, for the moment. Tron's breathing was fast, erratic. Alan, placing a hand briefly on his chest, could feel the powerful heart racing in tandem with his own.
“All right,” Alan said, softly. “we're almost ready. Concentrate, Program - your task is about to become much harder.”
-x-x-x-x-x
Tron remained still as some of his bonds were removed, eager to prove that ropes weren't needed to restrain him: Alan-One's command was enough. His head was swimming with the effort to withhold his climax, teeth gritted, sweat soaking into the bedsheets beneath him. He was almost relieved to have respite from Alan-One's touch for a time.
Seconds.
Tron heard and felt Alan-One kneeling on the bed in front of him. “Lift your hips,” his User commanded. When Tron complied, a pillow was placed beneath his backside, raising him a little higher, providing, Tron realised with an increased rush of desire, easier access.
Alan-One's hand was back on Tron's cock, resuming those slow, even, tormenting strokes. Tron shuddered, resisted his body's urge to thrust up into the caress. Alan-One gave a low murmur of approval. Tron, bolstered by this, reaffirmed his determination to obey his User's command; even if the frustration killed him, he would not climax without permission.
Just as he had begun to believe such restraint might be possible, Alan-One took the experience to a new level. A slick finger slid inside Tron, then another, stretching him gently, penetrating him in steady thrusts which matched exactly the tempo of the strokes still stimulating his cock.
Tron whimpered.
“Was that a complaint, Program?”
“N-no, User,” he managed, trembling with effort.
“Good. You want me to continue, don't you?”
“Yes, User.”
“You want to be tested, to be proved worthy. You want the rewards only I can give you in return for your obedience.”
“Yes, User.” Speech was barely possible, now, but Alan-One appeared to have understood the half-moaned words.
“Then earn them, Program. When I decide you're ready, I'm going to stop stroking your cock. Then I'm going to take you. I'm going to enter you in one hard thrust and when I do, and only then, you're going to come. Immediately. Do you understand these instructions, Program?”
“Y-yes, User,” Tron managed to gasp out.
“Good.”
-x-x-x-x-x
It didn't take very long, in the end, for Alan to decide that Tron was ready; he had hoped to draw this out for longer, but his own needs were becoming pressing, and after all, there was always next time...when he was sure he had prepared Tron sufficiently to prevent the risk of any injury, he withdrew his touch entirely, and reached up to remove Tron's blindfold.
“I want to see you react to this,” he informed his program. “Keep your eyes open. Look at me when I take you.”
Tron's eyes were wide, the pupils dilated. Beautiful. Now that Tron could see him, Alan forced himself to maintain a mask of cool, detached authority, despite the leap of his heart at how wonderfully debauched his program looked like this. Their gazes locked, Alan watched him for as long as he could stand to wait, watched as Tron struggled to maintain control even in the absence of physical stimulation. Perhaps next time Alan would instruct him to come without being touched at all...for now, however...
Alan knelt up, positioning himself so that the head of his cock millimetres from Tron's entrance. "Raise our legs and put your ankles on my shoulders,” he instructed Tron, who complied, limbs trembling. Alan nodded approval, placing his hands on Tron's legs to steady them. His gaze still locked on Tron's, he rocked his hips back, then sharply forward, entering with a single strong thrust.
-x-x-x-x-x
Meeting Alan-One's cool stare would surely make the test more difficult still. Somehow, Tron managed to control himself as his User placed them both in position, preparing for the final task. As Tron gazed into his User's eyes, desperately resisting the urge to close his own, he found a reserve of strength he hadn't been aware he possessed. Doubts were banished by a clear white light that seemed to fill him from within, spilling out into the room, bathing them both in its glory. Tron knew in that moment that he could, and would, carry out his User's command successfully - because it was not he who willed it, but Alan-One. As his User thrust powerfully into him, perfectly locating that spot which made the world spin, Tron relinquished the last of his control, felt his body responding only, completely, to Alan-One's will. There was no effort, no striving on Tron's part. His body was no longer his to command. He was free of it - blessedly, beautifully free.
-x-x-x-x-x
Alan watched Tron intently, no longer able to maintain his own illusion of impassivity. The near-anguished effort contorting his program's face vanished as Alan entered him; Tron's face relaxed into a beatific, transcendental smile, his open eyes glazing, hips moving smoothly upward to meet Alan's thrust, as, with a long, moaning sigh of complete and blissful release, Tron obeyed his User's command, and came.
Alan, overwhelmed by the sight, followed his program over the edge of ecstasy, taken by surprise at the suddenness of it: an intense, profound climax so absolutely fulfilling that his mind blanked completely for a few seconds as his body bucked and shuddered. Cries he was scarcely aware of making were muffled in his ears, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. After a time - minutes, hours; days, perhaps - he slowly recovered his senses to find his program gazing up at him with tranquil adoration.
“Did I pass the test, my User?” Tron asked, softly.
Alan leaned forward, placed a hand on his program's damp chest; measuring the slowing heartbeat, finding it still in tandem with his own, he answered,
“We both did, my love.”