fic: Le Disko - Time & Place
Story: Le Disko
Chapter: Time & Place
Fandom: TRON: Legacy
Characters/Pairing: Tron(/Sam Flynn)
Contains: masturbation (WHAT WHAT WHAT)
Rating: M
Word count: 615
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Summary: There is no summary - it’s porn.
Author's Note: Because the gods only know what else this fandom is making me do. Wrote this by hand in a notebook late at night in the bathroom to Florence + The Machine. #winning? *runs far away*
A stroke.
A slide.
A caress around the glowing edge of a circuit. The friction builds, energy crackling under the bodysuit and simulated skin. He bows his head with a shuddering gasp that echoes off the walls of the room. Another flick against the circuit on the left side of his chest coaxes out a muffled moan as he leans back against his seat and pushes against the console with his foot.
He shouldn’t be doing this right now-no, of course he shouldn’t. This is Security headquarters and someone could walk in on him. How embarrassing would it be to find the Head of Security stroking himself to overload?
Tron doesn’t care, not by this point. Besides he knows he’s the only one in the building for the next point two five millicycles and the doors have been locked to his signature. This isn’t the first time he ignored the pile of data pads compiled by Security and waiting for his analysis in favor of a good number of microcycles to himself. Monitoring the Grid may take up most of his time but during the lull he’d much rather sit back and…let himself go.
He still has three centicycles, after all.
He presses his fingers on the nodes right under his chest, imagining a warm slick tongue sliding over them. He flushes at the thought, circuitry pulsing hot and bright. Tron stares up at the ceiling, eyes unseeing as he brushes the back of his index and middle fingers against the circuits lower on his front. They flare as pleasure streaks through him and his foot almost slides off the console.
His sensors are faltering under the buildup of energy; it hums in his code, thrums through his circuits. He’s too close to stop, too gone to care about anything but the need, the drive to finish this.
He lets his other hand trail down his side to the nodes even lower down his body. Even though the reaction is nowhere as intense and blinding as in the User world it still has him biting his lip, has his hips twitching and snapping up, pushing off the seat in search of release. The friction, the stimulation is almost but not enough.
He wants Sam here with him, straddling him on the seat, achingly familiar weight settling against him while those warm lips whisper nothing and everything into his ear, his mouth, along the line of his neck, and through his lines of code. He needs Sam sliding against him and grinding down, sending him into freefall with a rough kiss and a touch of that infinite User energy. Once enough of his sensors and subroutines come back online from the wild pleasurable high he’ll reach up and drag his fingers down the undulating curve of Sam's back, feel thin white circuits pulse under his fingertips and heat up in response while those blue eyes turn stormy and that beautiful face flushes with a color so rarely seen on the Grid. He could see those wet red lips, swollen with kisses, parted as Sam breathes light and quick from exertion. Only a few inches separate them and Tron will lean up, seal his mouth and swallow the rough moan as Sam falls apart above him and spill that hot living energy into him and through him.
The image in his head, the almost perfect memories of Sam in those seemingly infinite seconds, the phantom feel of his slick bittersweet mouth against the cluster of circuits on his sternum, against the side of his neck, on his mouth has Tron stroking his circuits almost brutally as he pushes against the seat and throws his head back, a name slipping into the charged air as he overloads.
Chapter: Time & Place
Fandom: TRON: Legacy
Characters/Pairing: Tron(/Sam Flynn)
Contains: masturbation (WHAT WHAT WHAT)
Rating: M
Word count: 615
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Summary: There is no summary - it’s porn.
Author's Note: Because the gods only know what else this fandom is making me do. Wrote this by hand in a notebook late at night in the bathroom to Florence + The Machine. #winning? *runs far away*
A stroke.
A slide.
A caress around the glowing edge of a circuit. The friction builds, energy crackling under the bodysuit and simulated skin. He bows his head with a shuddering gasp that echoes off the walls of the room. Another flick against the circuit on the left side of his chest coaxes out a muffled moan as he leans back against his seat and pushes against the console with his foot.
He shouldn’t be doing this right now-no, of course he shouldn’t. This is Security headquarters and someone could walk in on him. How embarrassing would it be to find the Head of Security stroking himself to overload?
Tron doesn’t care, not by this point. Besides he knows he’s the only one in the building for the next point two five millicycles and the doors have been locked to his signature. This isn’t the first time he ignored the pile of data pads compiled by Security and waiting for his analysis in favor of a good number of microcycles to himself. Monitoring the Grid may take up most of his time but during the lull he’d much rather sit back and…let himself go.
He still has three centicycles, after all.
He presses his fingers on the nodes right under his chest, imagining a warm slick tongue sliding over them. He flushes at the thought, circuitry pulsing hot and bright. Tron stares up at the ceiling, eyes unseeing as he brushes the back of his index and middle fingers against the circuits lower on his front. They flare as pleasure streaks through him and his foot almost slides off the console.
His sensors are faltering under the buildup of energy; it hums in his code, thrums through his circuits. He’s too close to stop, too gone to care about anything but the need, the drive to finish this.
He lets his other hand trail down his side to the nodes even lower down his body. Even though the reaction is nowhere as intense and blinding as in the User world it still has him biting his lip, has his hips twitching and snapping up, pushing off the seat in search of release. The friction, the stimulation is almost but not enough.
He wants Sam here with him, straddling him on the seat, achingly familiar weight settling against him while those warm lips whisper nothing and everything into his ear, his mouth, along the line of his neck, and through his lines of code. He needs Sam sliding against him and grinding down, sending him into freefall with a rough kiss and a touch of that infinite User energy. Once enough of his sensors and subroutines come back online from the wild pleasurable high he’ll reach up and drag his fingers down the undulating curve of Sam's back, feel thin white circuits pulse under his fingertips and heat up in response while those blue eyes turn stormy and that beautiful face flushes with a color so rarely seen on the Grid. He could see those wet red lips, swollen with kisses, parted as Sam breathes light and quick from exertion. Only a few inches separate them and Tron will lean up, seal his mouth and swallow the rough moan as Sam falls apart above him and spill that hot living energy into him and through him.
The image in his head, the almost perfect memories of Sam in those seemingly infinite seconds, the phantom feel of his slick bittersweet mouth against the cluster of circuits on his sternum, against the side of his neck, on his mouth has Tron stroking his circuits almost brutally as he pushes against the seat and throws his head back, a name slipping into the charged air as he overloads.