Archive of Our Own

"Are you ready, Program?” The voice of his User speaks low in Tron’s ear and he shivers, his fingers twitching in anticipation. Without speaking, he nods, eager for their game to begin.

“Disc,” his User commands, and Tron disengages it from his back and holds it out for his User to take away. This gesture of obedience and unquestioning trust is rewarded with a brush of fingers against the ‘T’ symbol on his chest, sending a little burst of sensation rushing through Tron’s system, making him gasp. It’s a taste, however small, of what is to come later. Tron licks his lips, waits for more instructions.

A hand places itself on his shoulder and presses down lightly and it is enough for Tron to drop to his knees almost immediately. He feels his User stand in front of him and doesn’t move when he feels soft fabric being wrapped around his head, stealing his sight. Fingers check that the blindfold is not tied too tightly and Tron allows himself to nip at the fingers caressing his face. A click of the tongue and his User pauses for a moment, to let Tron know that such interruptions will have consequences, before continuing. Next, a collar is buckled around Tron’s neck and the dormant portion of the Rinzler code still present in his system makes him purr in excitement as he recognises its familiar embrace. There is a leash attached, but his User has not tightened it yet, preferring to leave it slack for the moment.

Tron turns his head as his User checks that both collar and blindfold are secure but not constricting, feels the warm presence of his body nearby and shifts despite himself, trying to fend off his growing impatience. For his efforts he is rewarded with another quick burst of pleasure as his User traces a slow path down his back and derezzes his armour with another flick of his fingers. Tron knows his User prefers him like this, naked and ready and eager, and he purrs happily as his User pushes an affectionate hand through his hair, butting his head up against the touch.

A chuckle, and he feels his User walk towards the large bed in the centre of the room. They’d created this place together, when Sam Flynn had left Tron in charge of reconstruction efforts in Tron City and his User had come to help out with trickier aspects of the coding. It is the one place on the Grid Tron feels completely at ease and entirely at peace. But then, his User has always had that effect on him.

The whisper of cloth falling to the floor tells him that his User has disrobed, preferring to remove his clothes in the manner of other Users, rather than simply derezzing them. Then his leash tightens, with just enough tension to let Tron figure out the distance to the bed (though he is familiar enough with the layout of the room to know straight away), but not too tight as to be choking, and his User tugs at it lightly. This is the signal that Tron’s been waiting for. Trying not to rush, he gets on all fours, bending low to the ground, all sinuous grace and fluid limbs, and makes his way to the bed where he feels his User waiting.

Tron knows his User loves to watch him like this, so he exaggerates each movement of his arms and legs, emphasising his reliance on his sense of touch to guide him and swiping his tongue against his bottom lip as he nears the bed. He can hear the soft groan of his User’s appreciation as he finally clambers onto the soft mattress, guided by the leash and his heightened awareness of his User’s proximity. They both know, of course, that Tron could find his User blind, such is the strength of the connection between them, but Tron enjoys being marked as his User’s property this way. It had taken some convincing for his User to accept it at first, but in the end Tron’s insistence that it was a desire of his own free will had won him over, though Tron had found it extremely productive to try and persuade his User more times than was absolutely necessary of this fact.

“Over here, Program,” his User says, and Tron allows himself to be led the final few inches to where his User is waiting. He knows his User usually likes to kneel on the bed, and this time is no exception. He leans forward, fingers reaching out and touches skin almost immediately, which he puts his mouth to. It is the top of his User’s knee and he kisses and licks and nips a trail upwards, enjoying the sound his User makes when his tongue finds the sensitive skin of his User’s lower belly.

“And what do you think you are going to do, Program?” His User asks, as Tron begins to work his way to where he knows his attentions are wanted most. Tron shivers as a hand rakes through his hair again, this time trailing pinpricks of energy in its wake. It’s a unique trick his User has mastered; the sensation enough to tease, but too light for any real satisfaction.

“I want to make you come, User.” He says, reaching out and running a finger deliberately down his User’s thigh, gasping at the charge that flows through the contact; he is his User’s Program, after all, and the bond between them translates physically into what feels like a small shock of current each time they touch. The first time his User had indulged Tron, he’d overloaded the Program’s circuits with so much pleasure Tron had remained offline for several millicycles until his User had gently brought him back to full consciousness by slowly stroking his circuitry while Tron lay motionless in his arms.

His User brushes a thumb against Tron’s lips. “How are you going to do that, Program?”

Tron smiles, already picturing the expression his User will be wearing as he answers, “You’re going to fuck my mouth, User. I want you to fuck my mouth until you come.”

He nips at the thumb, pulls it into his mouth and sucks at it, laving his tongue against the pad and loving the sound of his User’s guttural curse. With an effort his User pulls the digit away and allows Tron to continue his blind exploration.

“Language. You better get to work.”

So Tron does. He kisses a slow trail down his User’s belly, using his teeth to pull lightly at the skin there before dipping his head and breathing in deeply, imprinting the scent of his User onto his memory banks, feeling the heat in his User’s body and the soft crackle of static each time his lips touch skin.

“You’re a good little scout aren’t you, Program?” his User is murmuring, and Tron feels the muscles in his User’s stomach tense as he leans forward. Then Tron is groaning as his User bestows his first reward. A hand strokes a line that makes up the intricate circuitry on Tron’s back and a shock of pleasure flows through the conduit. It’s so intense that, for a moment, Tron thinks his User might be giving up on tonight’s play in order to pleasure him more directly, but he pulls away before Tron realises what is happening.

It’s like a dance between them. Tron kisses and licks his way down to his User’s straining erection, while his User encourages him with whispered promises of just how he plans to reward Tron later, alternated with soft strokes along the lines of the circuitry on Tron’s back. When Tron had been upgraded, the armoured suit he had worn previously was replaced with one of a simpler design, but Kevin Flynn’s modifications left the original design on his skin intact. And his User knows exactly how to navigate the complex of lines and circles with his fingers to leave Tron almost out of his mind with pleasure and want. He does it now, to Tron’s frustration, sending little darts of pleasure rushing through Tron’s circuits, distracting him from his task. Tron growls despite himself, pressing into his User’s touch each time it happens, always wanting more contact.

“Not yet,” his User tells him, and Tron can picture the smug grin on his User’s face. “Not until you’ve finished what you set out to do.”

Just to make sure his User understands how much this frustrates him, Tron turns his head and deliberately sinks his teeth into the fleshy part of his User’s inner thigh. The leash around his neck tightens, and Tron pulls away, careful not to break the skin, but licks at his handiwork, enjoying the moan it wrings from his User. For his efforts he is rewarded with a hand grasping his chin and pulling him up from his perch between his User’s legs.

“You’re being very disobedient tonight, Program,” his User whispers, his lips enticingly close to Tron’s. “Any more stunts like that and I’m going to forget about being patient with you.”

He lets go and Tron sinks back down, drawn by the heat emanating off his User’s body and his need to complete the task he has set out to do. After a few more perfunctory kisses and licks to his User’s chest and nipples, Tron finally reaches his quarry.

With a tentative smile, he reaches out with one hand, slides it down his User’s belly and grasps hold of his cock, admiring the weight of it in his hand, the heat coming off it, and the smooth glide of his palm over the sensitive skin. His User moans again, and Tron takes this as his cue. He presses a kiss to the head of his User’s cock before taking it into his mouth, as deep as his throat will allow. His User lets out a long, shaky breath, and one of his hands reaches over, strokes a complicated design on Tron’s circuits and this time the sensation of pleasure is so much stronger than it was before. Coherent functioning becomes almost impossible and Tron tries very hard to focus on what he is doing. His free hand grasps hold of his User’s thigh and the one wrapped around his User’s cock begins to pump it slowly while his tongue flicks against the tip. Again and again and again. Tron is determined to have his User fall apart for him.

“That’s… mmm… very good, Program.” There is only the tiniest tremor in his User’s voice, but it is telling. “Very, very good. God, you’ve got quite a mouth on you.”

If Tron could smirk now, he would.

“And you definitely know how to make use of it.” There is a pause and Tron takes advantage of it to lick a slow trail down the vein on his User’s cock. Fingers dig into his shoulder, hard enough to bruise, and he welcomes the brief pain. “You want to feel what it’s like to be pleasured like this, Program?”

Before Tron can answer, his User’s hands are tracing more lines onto his circuitry and Tron recognises the design of a feedback loop before the sensation hits him with the full force of its power. It’s as though he is experiencing everything his User is, only the intensity of the pleasure snaking through his circuits seems magnified nearly five-fold. The pleasure he is giving, it appears, is being not only being fed back to him, but enhanced as well. Tron feels a throaty growl escape his lips as a particularly powerful pulse of energy winds through him, licking heat at his groin. Oh, User, he wants more.

He can hear his User chuckling somewhere above him, but stubborn pride dictates that he should not be distracted from his task. Tron takes his User’s cock back into his mouth, teases with soft dabs of his tongue at his User’s slit. He feels an accompanying jolt of pleasure almost immediately in his own groin, wants to reach down and touch himself (and he knows his User loves to watch him stroke his own circuits until it all becomes too much and his User demands to take over), but he resists, breathes in through his nose and takes his User in even deeper, working the shaft of his cock with one hand, aided by his own spit and his User’s pre-cum. Tron’s other hand slips between his User’s thighs, fingers brushing his sac gently, prompting another moan and another blast of energy through their shared loop. This time, Tron sees sparks of bright coloured light behind his blindfold, and he very nearly loses his determination to make his User come in his mouth, so desperate is he for more contact through that wonderful piece of coding his User has fashioned.

“Program.” And Tron is gratified to hear how breathless his User is. “Keep doing that and -”

Tron doesn’t give him a chance to finish what he was about to say. He reaches up higher, his fingers finding and circling the familiar ring of muscle and then he is breaching his User, moaning at how wonderfully hot and tight he feels. Despite the lack of proper preparation, his User’s pleasure only intensifies and his hands skate across Tron’s back, brushing circles and lines and Tron feels them both approach the edge of climax together. He wants to prolong the moment, wants to stretch it out for as long as possible, wants them both to forget where User ends and Program begins. So he forces himself to slow down, takes the time to coordinate each movement of his fingers and lips and tongue, drawing out his User’s pleasure, until the hands on his back begin to brush against his circuits with more urgency and his hips buck against Tron’s face.

“Program,” His User whispers, and it is amazing how his User manages to convey authority with such a quiet word. “Either you make me come now, or the next time we do this I promise I will tie you up and make sure I leave bruises on that sweet ass of yours.”

A shiver runs through Tron, the images of his User having his rough way with him almost tipping over the edge. He does as he is told, two fingers buried in his User’s ass, fucking him gently, while he laps at his User’s cock, his tongue finding a particularly sensitive spot just behind the head. His User lets out a strangled curse and Tron knows that it must end soon. His other hand becomes a blur against their bodies as he brings his User closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy.

Tron is vaguely aware too, that his User is still stroking the circuitry on his back, but the pleasure seems to have plateaued, and he can concentrate on what he is doing. Then his User tenses, and Tron keeps sucking at his User’s cock, alternating it with thrusts of his fingers and the pumping of his hand and his User is coming, hot and thick and fast down his throat, his hands finally leaving Tron’s back and tangling themselves in his hair. Tron swallows everything, waits for his User’s breathing to return to normal, then gently takes his User’s softening cock out of his mouth, and disengages himself from his position, waiting for his next command, trying to ignore the persistent ache of his arousal.

“You’ve done well, haven’t you, Program?”

His User pulls on his leash and Tron obediently (gratefully), moves to settle himself in his User’s lap, sighs as his User runs fingertips down the lines on his arms, snuggling into the warm embrace and winding his legs around his User’s waist. His User’s lips brush his ear. “Would you like your reward now?”

Tron nods, knows the circuit trails on his skin must be pulsing brightly with the intensity of his need. He buries his blindfolded head in the crook of his User’s neck, seeing nothing but feeling the warmth emanating from him and a tingling sensation as his User strokes the circuitry on his lower back. He lets out a groan, pushes himself against his User’s body as much as possible, trying to convey with touch alone just how badly he needs release.

“Patience,” his User tells him. He presses a kiss against Tron’s shoulder, and Tron is gasping a curse as heat travels through the lines of his circuits, and then his User has both hands on his back again, pressing their bodies together and he is tracing, by heart, each of the lines on Tron’s back, his movements frustratingly slow and precise. But Tron can’t - dares not - complain, because soon it feels like he is going to overload with the amount of pleasure assaulting his system.

“Please!” He is aware that he is begging, and Tron knows that he wouldn’t do this with any other lover, Program or User. He would never allow himself to be this vulnerable with anyone else. But his User’s touch is at once compelling and addictive, and he arches his back, tipping his head backwards and holding on to his User’s shoulders for balance. “Oh, User. P-please.”

A hand leaves his back to tug on his leash. It sends another flash of heat through his body and Tron licks his lips, tastes the essence of his User on them.

“User.” He murmurs, feels featherlight touches down his spine, accompanied by intensely hot pleasure and he growls again. A tongue licks at the square circuits at the base of his throat and Tron hisses, feels the heat in his body begin to build to unbearable levels. Hands grasp his hips, fingers latching on and stroking the tight groups of circuits there. Tron gasps, feels his User nip at his exposed neck.

“Come for me, Program.” His User says, voice full of wonder and Tron can hear the adoration there. It humbles him, knowing that his User wants him to find his own release, is more than willing to help him find it. He begins to rock against his User’s body, urged on by the way his User is there, anchoring them together, his fingers pulsing heat and pleasure. Tron feels the end approaching, and his movements become even more frantic as he tries to search for more contact with his User. More, because they can never be close enough. More, because he needs this more than anything else in the system right now…

Then his User takes one of Tron’s hands off his shoulder, and slides the two fingers covered in circuitry into his mouth, tongue tracing the lines there.

And Tron falls apart; he lets the pleasure and heat and his User overwhelm his senses, his world exploding in a haze of coloured lights and flashes of electricity, a growl more like a roar ripping itself from his throat.

His User holds on to him the whole time.

When he comes to, Tron finds himself being carefully laid out on the bed. The collar is unbuckled and a small part of him mourns its absence almost immediately. The blindfold is removed with exquisite care and he looks up into his lover’s concerned eyes.

“You all right, Tron?”

Tron smiles to reassure him. “I’m fine, Alan-1.”

He reaches up for Alan and pulls him close and they end up tangled in each other and the bedsheets, which Alan ends up derezzing.

“I see you missed me,” Alan says, after a moment. Tron laughs, leans in for their first kiss in too many cycles. Alan groans as Tron rolls on top of him, opens his mouth and lets their tongues slide together. Tron loves this, loves tasting Alan after their encounters, when they finally drop the moniker of Program and User and indulge in the simple intimacy of each other.

“You’ve been gone too long,” Tron says, admiring the body beneath him, his eyes greedily taking the sight in now that his vision has been restored. He takes Alan’s hand, twines their fingers.

“Yeah.” Alan rubs a hand over his eyes, looks a little weary. Tron wonders if he’s tired his creator out with their exertions. “It’s not you, Tron. Don’t worry. There’s just been a lot of work recently, with Encom. Dillinger’s being difficult. I’m sorry I could only come now; you know I’d rather be here with you.”

Tron says nothing, just leans over and presses a soft kiss to Alan’s lips, forehead. Closes his eyes and touches their heads together. Then he opens his eyes again, looks at Alan. Smiles.

“Then let me help you relax properly, Alan-1.”

They don’t leave the bedroom for a very long time.