Tron Fanfic - Symmetry
Title: Symmetry
Author: Rhian_Morwenna (Mira)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Mature themes, circuit sex. (It is a kinkmeme fill after all.)
Prompt: From the Tron Kinkmeme - " Tron/Clu 2, before Clu flips his shit and becomes a villain. Or after actually, I don't think I'm picky."
Author's Notes: Read to find out whether this is before or after Clu's takeover. This is a derivative work of an existing work and is published electronically under fair use. No infringement on the original copyright owner is intended.
They are in Clu's private suite of the control tower when Clu stops Tron and takes two score nanocycles to admire his face. The face of another User, just like him. They are the only two programs on the Grid that have the face of a User, so close to their respective creators, yet so far away.
Tron startles when Clu touches his face. He feels the contours under his hand, sliding it slowly down over the arc of his cheek, down the side of his face, caressing his jaw, taking in all the data he can about the outer shell of the other program. Clu can see that Tron is confused but is behaving like a good program and following the lead of his Sysadmin.
“Beautiful,” Clu says. “Your shell is a perfect reflection of the User that created you.”
"What?” Tron asks quietly, not pulling away but not leaning into the hand on his face.
“Have you never considered that we are the only two programs that wear the face of a User?” Clu asks, enjoying the momentary confusion in Tron's eyes.
Tron looks thoughtful before he answers. “No, I have never thought about it. Alan-1 is not a User on this Grid, only Flynn. I have fought at his side on the other grid and he is worthy of being my User now, even if he did not create me.”
Clu smiles as Tron elaborates, knowing that he isn't usually so verbose around other programs. He slowly raises his other hand and rests it on Tron's upper arm lightly, not gripping or restraining. He doesn't want to do anything that might startle the security program, to cause him to close off, or even worse, flee the situation.
Through Flynn, as a result of his unique creation, Clu remembers what Alan-1 looks like. Their forms are the same, although the lack the optical correction device and Tron's posture reflect the perfection of the Grid compared to the world of the Users. Clu leans in and touches his forehead to Tron's.
"You are perfection, my friend," Clu says softly.
He rubs his thumb down the exposed patch of circuitry near the inside of Tron's arm, making his intention clear without being demanding. He wants the Basic to respond out of desire, not obligation or duty.
Tron pulls his head back and looks Clu directly in the eyes, questioningly. He doesn't pull away from Clu's hands, although Clu can't discern if he wants to or not.
"Ask your question, Tron," Clu says, dragging his thumb over the circuit again. "I don't want there to be any misunderstanding between us."
"Do...you really mean this?" he asks. "Please, don't tease me like this."
Clu savors the hitch in Tron's voice, the near pleading tone he uses. He runs the hand that isn't teasing the circuit to the back of Tron's head, carding his fingers through his hair, savoring the fine texture against the pads of his fingers, and gently pulls down until their foreheads are touching again.
"This isn't meant to tease, at least not in the way you're worried about. It's an offer, a preview of what is to come."
Clu smiles to himself as Tron leans forward slightly, pressing his arm into Clu's hand as he raises his own hands to rest lightly on Clu's flanks.
They stand still for a few microcycles just holding each other. Clu can feel the ebb and flow of energy between his hands and Tron, knows that Tron can feel the same without touching any exposed circuits. He feels Tron's low hum as he trails his fingers down Tron's neck and across the top of his shoulder, using his permissions as a Sysadmin to send a small pulse of energy through his fingertips.
"We should go someplace else. Another program shouldn't see us like this," Tron says, the pitch of his voice dropping and picking up a pleasant rasp.
"What? You think some program will disturb us here, in my personal work area? Only Flynn can enter here without my permission and he won't be back for nearly a hundred millicycles. Relax, Tron. Don't worry about anything for a few microcycles."
Clu can tell Tron is scanning the immediate area for threats and doesn't bother trying to tell him there are none. Tron may be predictable to the point of certainty in some situations, and this is one of those situations, but his function has kept them both from being derezzed unexpectedly more than once. Tron wouldn't relax without doing a security scan if Flynn himself had told him to do so, and had on multiple occasions, which would have led to the derezzing of at least one of them, potentially all three had Tron followed the directives of the User. Clu likes the certainty of action and reaction, the symmetry of cause and effect, the knowledge that when Tron relaxes, they are both truly safe.
After a few nanocycles, Tron's posture shifts subtly, becoming less rigid as he leans against Clu allowing him to take a fraction of his mass. Tron slides his hands over the circuits concealed under the jacket, his head tipping down the few critical degrees so their lips line up.
It's time like this Clu almost forgets that Tron's a Basic, although he suspects Flynn and possibly Alan-1 have each had influence in his development. A Basic would never have been this forward with a Sysadmin, despite how well they work together, and both of them have been under the direction and encouragement of Flynn...
Clu terminates that thought process as Tron takes the liberty opening his mouth and running his tongue over Clu's lips. Tron enjoys games when he takes a few microcycles to himself, and this is another type of game Tron likes to play. Clu's no longer sure which one of them is seducing the other, the way energy plays across their lips, through fingertips, seeking out a circuit to ground to. As Clu seeks out with his hands other circuits to stroke and tease, Tron's fingers slide over the large circuit along the front of his jacket, then under to the more delicate circuits protected underneath.
Clu feels the moment their data starts to sync, when thoughts bleed directly through the circuits and the linebetween them becomes less sharp.
[Why didn't we do this sooner?] they think, ask the other, themselves as the pleasure rises.
[Beta-testing new upgrades.] That thought has more of Clu in it than Tron, and they both know it's a weak excuse.
Hands, lips, tongues continue to seek out new lines to caress, as data continues to ricochet between them. Tron's armor begins to derezz, exposing the more intricate circuits that indicate his origin from the ENCOM system and not the Grid.
Clu starts to shrug off his jacket User-style until he realizes he's accessed a memory of Flynn's that is an artifact from his creation and lets it derezz. He feels Tron's amusement/wonder at the small insight into Users. Clu pulls away from Tron's lips and bends his heads to lick the four squares at the base of Tron's throat.
[No Users present/Just us/No distractions,] they agree in a jumble of thoughts.
Fingers begin to trace the newly exposed circuits along Clu's arms while he explores the smooth plane of Tron's chest, guiding him backward. One of them lets out a ragged moan, or maybe the both do, since there seems to be almost a harmony to the sound, one layered over the other. Clu doesn't even have to look to know pulses of energy are growing brighter, faster, for both of them. At this pace, neither of them will be able to hold out longer than a few microcycles.
[Patience,] they think, the thought carrying the tint of more cycles of up-time than Clu has.
[Couch,] they think, and this time there is more of Clu in the thought, almost a command.
As one they alter their vector towards the piece of furniture, never changing the spatial distance between them although they do slow in their efforts to pleasure each other. There is something to be said for not rushing towards a goal, after all.
Just as they sense the couch behind Tron, their positions are suddenly reversed and Clu is sitting on the couch with Tron straddling his lap. Surprise rises through Clu's data while a deeply buried playfulness seeps through Tron's. Tron takes advantage of Clu's surprise and bends his head to lick the thick circuit that circles his throat, usually hidden by the high collar of the jacket he wears.
Clu turns his head to the side, giving Tron more access to the circuits along the side of his neck and throat while capturing Tron's wrist and bringing it to his mouth. He immediately lets go of his wrist and Tron turns his hand just perfectly to give Clu the best access to the circuits that run down the back of the thumb and first two digits. Clu's hand slides up Tron's arm and joins his other on Tron's back.
Tron's shell forms a graceful curve, his head thrown back, his chest grinding against Clu's as he presses firmly along the base of the dock for his disk.
[Ready?] they ask, plea, in desperation.
[Just a few nanocycles,] they reply, just as desperate, needy.
They find each other's hands without any conscious thought, running on pure base code.
Their fingers interlace, palm to palm, forearm to as Tron's leverage allows him to press Clu's arms to the couch on either side of his head. Their foreheads touch, lips barely brushing, shells and circuits lined up as much as possible.
[NOW!]
They each release a torrent of energy into the other, their timing perfect to create an interference wave that amplifies their energy into pleasure so intense, so powerful that it is nearly painful. Violet light fills blazes behind their eyelids, and in one perfect nanocycle there is no distinction between them. The data bleed becomes a torrent threatening to overwrite their code and in that nanocycle they both would be fine with that outcome. Sysadmin and Security Basic blend into one program that cries out in a single voice, utterly devoted to the entire Grid.
The program cannot sustain itself and the halves are forced apart. It's voice fractures into two separate tones once again.
Clu barely has a chance to register a sense of loss before he is forced into a soft reboot.
The first thing Clu notices when he boots is that his throat feels like shattered voxels. The next is a comfortable warmth at his side and a head resting on his shoulder.
"You know, I've been told it isn't healthy to let such an excess of charge accumulate in one's systems. It can corrupt one's code."
Tron's voice is rough but relaxed and teasing.
"Like you're one to talk," Clu retorts with no heat, leaving his eyes closed for a few microcycles longer. His voice sounds just a rough as Tron's. "Let me up; I need some energy."
A vial of energy is pressed into his hand. He doesn't bother to see if it is sealed and brings it to his lips.
"I'd archived how quickly you reboot."
"Mmm," Tron says noncommittally while Clu swallows the energy. "Go ahead and drop into sleep mode. We have two milicycles before we're expected anywhere."
"What?" Clu demands, trying to sit up despite his below optimal energy levels. "We're both supposed to be surveying one of the outer sectors Flynn wants to develop when he returns..."
"Shh. I've taken care of our schedules. My second is handling security everywhere except for this suite and if some catastrophe that only the Sysadmin can handle should occur, he will notify us. Rest."
Clu feels the couch flatten into a rest platform and an arm drape across his chest and decides to stop fighting shut-down.
"I'll be here when you reboot," is the last thing he hears before shut-down claims him.
Author: Rhian_Morwenna (Mira)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Mature themes, circuit sex. (It is a kinkmeme fill after all.)
Prompt: From the Tron Kinkmeme - " Tron/Clu 2, before Clu flips his shit and becomes a villain. Or after actually, I don't think I'm picky."
Author's Notes: Read to find out whether this is before or after Clu's takeover. This is a derivative work of an existing work and is published electronically under fair use. No infringement on the original copyright owner is intended.
They are in Clu's private suite of the control tower when Clu stops Tron and takes two score nanocycles to admire his face. The face of another User, just like him. They are the only two programs on the Grid that have the face of a User, so close to their respective creators, yet so far away.
Tron startles when Clu touches his face. He feels the contours under his hand, sliding it slowly down over the arc of his cheek, down the side of his face, caressing his jaw, taking in all the data he can about the outer shell of the other program. Clu can see that Tron is confused but is behaving like a good program and following the lead of his Sysadmin.
“Beautiful,” Clu says. “Your shell is a perfect reflection of the User that created you.”
"What?” Tron asks quietly, not pulling away but not leaning into the hand on his face.
“Have you never considered that we are the only two programs that wear the face of a User?” Clu asks, enjoying the momentary confusion in Tron's eyes.
Tron looks thoughtful before he answers. “No, I have never thought about it. Alan-1 is not a User on this Grid, only Flynn. I have fought at his side on the other grid and he is worthy of being my User now, even if he did not create me.”
Clu smiles as Tron elaborates, knowing that he isn't usually so verbose around other programs. He slowly raises his other hand and rests it on Tron's upper arm lightly, not gripping or restraining. He doesn't want to do anything that might startle the security program, to cause him to close off, or even worse, flee the situation.
Through Flynn, as a result of his unique creation, Clu remembers what Alan-1 looks like. Their forms are the same, although the lack the optical correction device and Tron's posture reflect the perfection of the Grid compared to the world of the Users. Clu leans in and touches his forehead to Tron's.
"You are perfection, my friend," Clu says softly.
He rubs his thumb down the exposed patch of circuitry near the inside of Tron's arm, making his intention clear without being demanding. He wants the Basic to respond out of desire, not obligation or duty.
Tron pulls his head back and looks Clu directly in the eyes, questioningly. He doesn't pull away from Clu's hands, although Clu can't discern if he wants to or not.
"Ask your question, Tron," Clu says, dragging his thumb over the circuit again. "I don't want there to be any misunderstanding between us."
"Do...you really mean this?" he asks. "Please, don't tease me like this."
Clu savors the hitch in Tron's voice, the near pleading tone he uses. He runs the hand that isn't teasing the circuit to the back of Tron's head, carding his fingers through his hair, savoring the fine texture against the pads of his fingers, and gently pulls down until their foreheads are touching again.
"This isn't meant to tease, at least not in the way you're worried about. It's an offer, a preview of what is to come."
Clu smiles to himself as Tron leans forward slightly, pressing his arm into Clu's hand as he raises his own hands to rest lightly on Clu's flanks.
They stand still for a few microcycles just holding each other. Clu can feel the ebb and flow of energy between his hands and Tron, knows that Tron can feel the same without touching any exposed circuits. He feels Tron's low hum as he trails his fingers down Tron's neck and across the top of his shoulder, using his permissions as a Sysadmin to send a small pulse of energy through his fingertips.
"We should go someplace else. Another program shouldn't see us like this," Tron says, the pitch of his voice dropping and picking up a pleasant rasp.
"What? You think some program will disturb us here, in my personal work area? Only Flynn can enter here without my permission and he won't be back for nearly a hundred millicycles. Relax, Tron. Don't worry about anything for a few microcycles."
Clu can tell Tron is scanning the immediate area for threats and doesn't bother trying to tell him there are none. Tron may be predictable to the point of certainty in some situations, and this is one of those situations, but his function has kept them both from being derezzed unexpectedly more than once. Tron wouldn't relax without doing a security scan if Flynn himself had told him to do so, and had on multiple occasions, which would have led to the derezzing of at least one of them, potentially all three had Tron followed the directives of the User. Clu likes the certainty of action and reaction, the symmetry of cause and effect, the knowledge that when Tron relaxes, they are both truly safe.
After a few nanocycles, Tron's posture shifts subtly, becoming less rigid as he leans against Clu allowing him to take a fraction of his mass. Tron slides his hands over the circuits concealed under the jacket, his head tipping down the few critical degrees so their lips line up.
It's time like this Clu almost forgets that Tron's a Basic, although he suspects Flynn and possibly Alan-1 have each had influence in his development. A Basic would never have been this forward with a Sysadmin, despite how well they work together, and both of them have been under the direction and encouragement of Flynn...
Clu terminates that thought process as Tron takes the liberty opening his mouth and running his tongue over Clu's lips. Tron enjoys games when he takes a few microcycles to himself, and this is another type of game Tron likes to play. Clu's no longer sure which one of them is seducing the other, the way energy plays across their lips, through fingertips, seeking out a circuit to ground to. As Clu seeks out with his hands other circuits to stroke and tease, Tron's fingers slide over the large circuit along the front of his jacket, then under to the more delicate circuits protected underneath.
Clu feels the moment their data starts to sync, when thoughts bleed directly through the circuits and the linebetween them becomes less sharp.
[Why didn't we do this sooner?] they think, ask the other, themselves as the pleasure rises.
[Beta-testing new upgrades.] That thought has more of Clu in it than Tron, and they both know it's a weak excuse.
Hands, lips, tongues continue to seek out new lines to caress, as data continues to ricochet between them. Tron's armor begins to derezz, exposing the more intricate circuits that indicate his origin from the ENCOM system and not the Grid.
Clu starts to shrug off his jacket User-style until he realizes he's accessed a memory of Flynn's that is an artifact from his creation and lets it derezz. He feels Tron's amusement/wonder at the small insight into Users. Clu pulls away from Tron's lips and bends his heads to lick the four squares at the base of Tron's throat.
[No Users present/Just us/No distractions,] they agree in a jumble of thoughts.
Fingers begin to trace the newly exposed circuits along Clu's arms while he explores the smooth plane of Tron's chest, guiding him backward. One of them lets out a ragged moan, or maybe the both do, since there seems to be almost a harmony to the sound, one layered over the other. Clu doesn't even have to look to know pulses of energy are growing brighter, faster, for both of them. At this pace, neither of them will be able to hold out longer than a few microcycles.
[Patience,] they think, the thought carrying the tint of more cycles of up-time than Clu has.
[Couch,] they think, and this time there is more of Clu in the thought, almost a command.
As one they alter their vector towards the piece of furniture, never changing the spatial distance between them although they do slow in their efforts to pleasure each other. There is something to be said for not rushing towards a goal, after all.
Just as they sense the couch behind Tron, their positions are suddenly reversed and Clu is sitting on the couch with Tron straddling his lap. Surprise rises through Clu's data while a deeply buried playfulness seeps through Tron's. Tron takes advantage of Clu's surprise and bends his head to lick the thick circuit that circles his throat, usually hidden by the high collar of the jacket he wears.
Clu turns his head to the side, giving Tron more access to the circuits along the side of his neck and throat while capturing Tron's wrist and bringing it to his mouth. He immediately lets go of his wrist and Tron turns his hand just perfectly to give Clu the best access to the circuits that run down the back of the thumb and first two digits. Clu's hand slides up Tron's arm and joins his other on Tron's back.
Tron's shell forms a graceful curve, his head thrown back, his chest grinding against Clu's as he presses firmly along the base of the dock for his disk.
[Ready?] they ask, plea, in desperation.
[Just a few nanocycles,] they reply, just as desperate, needy.
They find each other's hands without any conscious thought, running on pure base code.
Their fingers interlace, palm to palm, forearm to as Tron's leverage allows him to press Clu's arms to the couch on either side of his head. Their foreheads touch, lips barely brushing, shells and circuits lined up as much as possible.
[NOW!]
They each release a torrent of energy into the other, their timing perfect to create an interference wave that amplifies their energy into pleasure so intense, so powerful that it is nearly painful. Violet light fills blazes behind their eyelids, and in one perfect nanocycle there is no distinction between them. The data bleed becomes a torrent threatening to overwrite their code and in that nanocycle they both would be fine with that outcome. Sysadmin and Security Basic blend into one program that cries out in a single voice, utterly devoted to the entire Grid.
The program cannot sustain itself and the halves are forced apart. It's voice fractures into two separate tones once again.
Clu barely has a chance to register a sense of loss before he is forced into a soft reboot.
The first thing Clu notices when he boots is that his throat feels like shattered voxels. The next is a comfortable warmth at his side and a head resting on his shoulder.
"You know, I've been told it isn't healthy to let such an excess of charge accumulate in one's systems. It can corrupt one's code."
Tron's voice is rough but relaxed and teasing.
"Like you're one to talk," Clu retorts with no heat, leaving his eyes closed for a few microcycles longer. His voice sounds just a rough as Tron's. "Let me up; I need some energy."
A vial of energy is pressed into his hand. He doesn't bother to see if it is sealed and brings it to his lips.
"I'd archived how quickly you reboot."
"Mmm," Tron says noncommittally while Clu swallows the energy. "Go ahead and drop into sleep mode. We have two milicycles before we're expected anywhere."
"What?" Clu demands, trying to sit up despite his below optimal energy levels. "We're both supposed to be surveying one of the outer sectors Flynn wants to develop when he returns..."
"Shh. I've taken care of our schedules. My second is handling security everywhere except for this suite and if some catastrophe that only the Sysadmin can handle should occur, he will notify us. Rest."
Clu feels the couch flatten into a rest platform and an arm drape across his chest and decides to stop fighting shut-down.
"I'll be here when you reboot," is the last thing he hears before shut-down claims him.