PROMPT POST
ROUND ONE CLOSED!
Go for it, bbs.
P.S. If this does well, I will totes open up a delicious.com.
FLAT VIEW for easier browsing while we get the delicious together.
UPDATE: FILL POST for easier archiving. If you complete a fill please post it here! Further instructions on the fill page! :D THANKS ALL!
NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS, FEEL FREE TO ( Read more... )
“Sam Flynn” he rumbled happily. “User.”
Sam did not reply. This time the helmet did not distort Tron’s words. Hell, even his voice is designed to… The program was still struggling to get up, making those happy sounds. He was more or less in command of his arms, but his legs barely moved. Sam disintegrated his own partial gloves, reached there and touched Tron’s face. He felt the damaged coding and the low energy level. What he did not expect was the heat radiating from the skin of unearthly texture. Tron looked up. His eyes were full of hope and adoration.
“User” he said. Sam reached for the program’s disc and took it away suddenly. Tron quivered. During the short time he had spent on the Grid, Sam had learnt that taking away a program’s disc without asking for it was impolite. Grabbing a warrior’s disc was an offense. The boy took a step back and flipped the disc. He opened the memory files and started to browse. He found quickly what he was looking for.
“I thought so” he said as he turned back. Tron was staring at him with the same devotion and excitement. Clu was standing behind with arms folded, a sly smile on his face. Sam knew that he was amused by his, Sam’s grudge and that made him even more spiteful. He reached out and put his hand on the back of Tron’s head. His fingers tightened into a fist and Sam slowly pulled the program’s head backwards. Tron stopped rumbling.
“He messed it up” said Sam. “He messed up his own life. He made my Grandparents’ last years miserable. He let me down. My father. But I’ve lived with it. I had no other choice, and despite of what everybody has said, somehow I did believe that he left for something important. For something, that eventually would change everything. That would worth the price. But. It looks like it was simply more important for him to romp with you here than to be with his family. And it just wasn’t enough for you to mess up our lives. You had to blow his mind, so he lost control here too. That’s why he got trapped here. He failed everybody. And not for some greater good. But because of you, you sorry excuse for a program.”
The still activated disc was dangerously close to Tron’s face, but the program did not look at it. He stared at Sam in shock, lips parted.
“I…” he said. “Flynn…”
Sam hissed. He knew that the program did not have the speaking capabilities to put up any kind of conversation, and he did not care about his excuses anyway. Slowly Tron’s eyes became glazed and Sam wondered if programs were able to cry. He saw that Tron was looking at his red circuits now. A trembling hand emerged and the wary fingers went close to the bright red lighted pattern on Sam’s chest.
“Sam Flynn” the program whispered. Sam grabbed his hand and forced him to touch the circuits. The flow of the silver currents intensified from the tip and from the opposite charge. The effect of the touch sent waves of warmth to Sam’s stomach. Tron’s hair was soft in Sam’s hand, softer than human hair. The boy was curious if it had been his father who had made that adjustment. Sam remembered Flynn, getting on his motorbike and waving goodbye. Sam gnashed his teeth. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the program’s, his tongue slipped in easily. Tron whined, but he could not turn his head away, because of Sam’s heavy fist in his hair. He tasted good. Not human though.
Sam released the program with a violent jerk and straightened himself. He switched off Tron’s disc and threw it to Clu. The system administrator caught it with a fluent motion. The sleek smile was gone.
“I want him” said Sam with a snarl.
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I love it.
Tron's suit being changed to a siren suit feels so meaningful, like a sort of demotion and thus degradation of a warrior. And then Sam's thought 'Not a combatant anymore'.
I love how much is unsaid, but while reading one's mind is forced to THINK it.
And all the details... around and in Sam's head...
That hope and adoration in Tron at seing a user, and Flynn's son at that, and it being so brutally shatterred by the scathing scorn and hate in Sam, a boy that realizes his dad's left the family and made everyone ultimately unhappy (Sam's “He messed it up” is so perfect) just for some... some bimbo lover. I very much agree with winzler's comment on evil!Sam. I really like how he lets himself descend into this dark self; it's conclusive and one can feel it.
Tron... Q_Q
This was really hurtful, I did have tears in my eyes.
Love it.
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Thank you so much for both of the comments. I am thrilled that people give so much thought to the story and that the conception did come through.
I believe as the writer I am not supposed to comment on the plot, because the story needs to speak for itself. Now I am a bit afraid of causing distress or upset people with the strange approach I am taking with the change of the status and the hardcore violence.
Again, thank you for reading, both thoughtful feedback means a lot to me.
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(And I'm not saying this only because I am totally hooked on this and feel strongly moved by it, lol.)
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Thanks again, I will try to post the update as soon as possible.
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That was when Tron panicked. He spun and began to crawl away from Sam. With his largely immobile legs the attempt was so hopeless that neither Sam nor Clu moved. The system administrator seemed to be entertained. He was watching Tron’s struggle with undisguised lust in his eyes and then looked at Sam. The circuits flickered wildly on the boy’s suit. Sam licked his lips. Inexcusable. Until that moment he had not done anything, nothing that could not be explained, nothing that could not be undone - nothing, after what Sam could have not looked into his father’s eyes. This was that; ultimate. No turning back, once that line was crossed.
Tron reached the other side of the bed. Clu stepped there, seized him and threw him back onto the sheets. Tron let out a confused yelp as the other program flipped him over. Clu grabbed his wrists and pinned them against the bed above Tron’s head, presenting him to Sam. Clu glanced up at the boy.
“Then do it” he said. Tron screamed. Sam looked down at him in a glow.
“User” whimpered the program. “Don’t…”
Sam kneeled on the bed with one leg. Tron was squirming. His wrists were trapped in Clu’s iron grip and his thighs were shaking uselessly. He did not try to beg to Clu. A few hundred cycles must have been enough to prove that needless. He was staring at Sam with a scared look on his face.
The boy put a hand on Tron’s thigh. The texture of the close-fitting, white and silver suit was surprisingly pleasant to touch. Sam felt the lean muscles under the garment and that reminded him of their encounter in the Arena. How easy, how gracious Tron’s victory had been. Sam grinned.
“They should see you now” he said. Tron looked at him in confusion. He pressed his legs together with great effort. Sam pushed his hands between the program’s thighs, parting them easily. No, he thought. Tron was not going to return to the Arena - he was not even going to walk freely under the dark sky of the Grid ever again. He should have stuck to the reprogramming; though Sam would have torn Rinzler apart as well for what he had seen on that identity disc.
He kneeled between the program’s legs and lay on top of him. Sam groaned from the sensation of their bodies straining against each other. The black cover under his bare hand had a silky touch, the contrast of the sheet and Tron’s outfit was striking. The flickering lights of Sam’s circuits drew red streaks on the white suit.
“Sam” whispered Tron. The boy looked in his face closely. Perfection.
“What?” he asked. He pressed his lips on the program’s before Tron could have said anything. Sam grabbed his jaw to prevent him from turning his head away. Tron’s lips somehow tasted like the condensed energy Sam had been offered at the shore during the celebration. The boy closed his eyes and deepened the kiss. The program did not respond and did not try to bite as if fidelity had been fitted deeper inside his code than self-defense or the instinct to stay alive. Sam buried his fingers in Tron’s hair once more. The program was shaking under him; Sam felt the intense warmth that was coming from him, through his thick armor.
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“Oh, God” he sighed. Tron’s head fell back and he let out a scream. This time it was different: full of anger and outrage, despite of all his weakness. As he snapped back Sam saw that his eyes were furious and his jaw clenched. The boy pulled back. This was how he had imagined the warriors of the Grid, when he had been lying in his bed at night, under the wallpapers that had been glowing in the dark. This feeling reminded him of those times; when he had known that everything was going to be fine, that his father would be back soon, that… We’re always on the same team.
Sam sat back on his heels. Tron’s head fell back onto the sheet, exhausted. His wrists were still trapped in Clu’s grip. Sam looked at the system administrator. Clu was grinning. He was enjoying himself apparently, yet he did not offer any comment. He did not try to push the boy, as if he did not really mind what Sam’s final choice would be. There was some curiosity on his face. To see if I dare.
Tron did not move. The fight was over - his time as a warrior was over; he had had his battles and he had lost. And then he had failed to serve the new order too. But the Grid was a clean system and it did not produce waste: this feature put him right here, for this new use. And all that misery - for what? Programs were not supposed to shake off their directives; human beings did that, refusing whatever was profitable for them, running into their fate, against their own good. Why would a program do that? For a human, who had never deserved that loyalty? What did that tell about the human and what about the program? Sam bit down on his own lip. It tasted like Tron. He looked down and saw that his own red circuits were glowing brighter than ever. He just realized that his hands were still grabbing at the program’s naked thighs. Slowly he began to stroke the smooth skin.
His father wanted everything with the fervor of benevolent people. His company, the adoration of the public, his son, his family - and the same time he wanted the Grid, with its different rules. He wanted it all with full desire, and lost everything. Sam could do better than that. He could have everything what his father had had, and not to waste it, not to lose it. He had inherited the genial talent and fortune from his father. He could have Encom. He could have the Grid. He could have everything that his father had owned once. Everything. If I dare. The boy leaned ahead. Everything, that had been rightfully his - he had just never reached out to take it. The thing about perfection is that’s unknowable.
Sam touched Tron’s face. The program looked at him wearily. It’s impossible, but it’s also right in front of us all the time.
“We are not on the same team” Sam told him. “We’ve never been.”
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A defiant look showed on the program’s face. Sam laughed softly and touched Tron’s lower lip with his thumb. He bent down and started to kiss the program’s neck, his hands were on Tron’s sides. His fingers were tracing along the pattern of the glimmering circuits on the program’s pale skin; then his lips followed the trail. None of his actions ignited any reaction - Tron was lying under him motionlessly. Sam lifted himself up and put his hand on his own suit. The armor fell to pixels where his hand touched it. Tron closed his eyes and turned his head away quickly.
“Look at me” commanded Sam. Sweat covered his skin where the disintegrated suit disappeared. Tron did not comply, he was just lying there, eyes tightly shut.
“Give me his hand” the boy said to Clu. Sam bent forward and grabbed Tron’s left hand that Clu released. Sam guided it to his own chest and forced the program to touch his sweaty skin. Tron started to tremble again, but he still did not open his eyes. Sam had his hand slid down and forced the unwilling fingers around his erection.
“You will feel it soon” he promised. The program whined quietly.
“You don’t like it?” asked Sam. “I thought you like to do it with Users.”
He looked down and got the answer to his earlier question. So they can cry after all. Content as he was, Sam pushed back the program’s hand into Clu’s grip. He could not and did not even want to contain himself anymore. His fingers dug into Tron’s skin. No breathing, no heartbeats, only this unnatural heat. Sam slid his hand between the program’s legs; he did not find even the flicker of interest. With his knees he began to spread Tron’s legs further apart and lifted one of his thighs with his hand. He looked up in the program’s face. Tears were still streaming down on Tron’s face, but he clenched his teeth and remained silent - nothing of the screams and wails Sam wanted.
“Okay” he said and reached deeper. His probing hand found the program’s entrance quickly. Sam pushed in two fingers forcefully and got rewarded with a choked sob. Tron arched against the bed; agony was on his face. His arms strained once more in a desperate effort to free himself. Clu, who was standing at his head slightly bent ahead, did not even stir at the attempt. Sam glanced up. Clu did not look at him; his expression was knowing and almost impassive as if he knew already that there would be no mercy. The boy turned back to Tron. The misery that contorted the program’s face gave Sam some relief - he regretted that his father would not find out what was going to happen. The digital muscles were so tight around his fingers that he could barely wriggle them. He did it anyway and Tron went very pale. Sam stopped quickly; he did not want the program to pass out. He pulled out his fingers and grabbed Tron’s hip. His other hand guided his own erection to the program’s entrance and began to push inside with small, hard thrusts.
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“This” he groaned breathlessly. So he had been obliged to live with his loss for this. Waves of pleasure pulsed along him. “You’re going to pay a hell of a price.”
Tron did not react. Seemingly it took everything he had not to fall apart and Sam did not bother to consider that if he had done anything wrong, then he had paid for it during the previous twenty years. Sam began to move. Tron’s body was unbearably tight and warm around him and the hot inner muscles tensed around his organ at each thrust. The boy tried to pick up a rhythm that he could keep up long enough. He was watching the dim blue glow of Tron’s circuits as he was moving in and out of him firmly. The program’s pale skin with that pure light was the only bright spot around - even Sam still wore his suit as he had only disintegrated some material in the front.
Sam lowered himself on his elbows without ceasing to move. It was easier for him to plunge in now; the program’s entrance somewhat adjusted to him and Sam felt the hot, liquid energy trickling out along his erection from where Tron’s body was torn inside. The boy buried his face in the program’s neck and closed his eyes. His pleasure was intensifying rapidly and it was clouding his mind; yet suddenly an uninvited thought intruded his mind: that he was doing almost exactly the same things now that his father had done long time before - except for that his actions had been welcomed, that they had been happy then. That things were never supposed to happen this way, because this dark, foreign place was meant to be the starting point of new ideas, not this beastly enjoyment, and that again: that those two had been happy here.
“Happy” sniffed the boy as he lifted himself. He shook his head angrily to get rid off those thoughts. He braced himself on his arms once more and looked down at the face and body that had been designed so carefully and successfully to please. This was his too now. Tron’s grey eyes were half-lidded and the light of his circuits was dropping slowly. Sam was getting close; his thrusts became harder and quicker.
He saw something to alter from the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw that Clu derezzed his own gloves. The system administrator program leaned closer and took Tron’s wrist in one hand - not like the latter one had any strength to resist anymore. Clu sat on the bed one sided; his other hand touched Tron’s face almost gently. The tiny golden circuits on his hand lit up. There was a shift of charge and Tron groaned something unintelligible in a raspy voice; it sounded like pleading. Clu’s hand slid down to his neck and ghosted over his pale skin: the light blue circuits glowed brighter as their energy links connected. Clu put his hand on Tron’s chest, fingers splayed and Tron whined from the fresh pain. Sam kept on rutting without considering pausing. So this is how they do this.
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Sam pulled out and arranged his suit, yet he stayed there, leant over Tron. It’s done. He claimed his due; it was not hard at all and he was ready to take the rest. To take the company. To replace the system and start working on it - and extend it eventually, as his father had planned it, to better the world with the inventions of the Grid. Only he would not betray the idea and his companions as his father had done it.
Clu turned and looked at Sam. His face was stern and serious, with no hint of accompliceship or familiarity.
“Sam Flynn” he said. “Your transport to the portal is waiting for you.”
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The gap between the events in the arena and the last scene - yes. While the whole thing is open to interpretation, I think Tron's post-stroke post-Rinzler symptoms were caused by the rejection of the reprogramming and that made him act like a bit. Also, he'd been so crazy about Users - would a User jump at him like here, I totally see Tron freezing.
Thank you for the wonderful feedback! Now I just have to deal with the full AU that had been built in my head around the story while I was writing. :)
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