Word Count: ~1500
Summary: Sam’s been gone from the Grid for too long, and Tron is very eager to see him when he gets back.
A/N: Written in Shirozora’s fantastic “We Are Pilots”-verse and inspired by this fanart by her.
He can’t even imagine what it’s like for Tron, stuck in the Grid where time passes so much faster…
Flinging himself into the chair in front of the laser, he types in the activation sequence with eager fingers. There’s no time to brace himself for the rush, and there’s barely any shock this time as he falls into the hyper-real world of the Grid. A breath, a blink, and he’s there, pixels resolving themselves into the glowing-bright reality of the computer world. He allows himself a moment to stretch, then stands, brushing imaginary dust off the replica of his hoodie that’s now his attire here in the Grid. He’d become tired of wearing the armor of a Disc Warrior every time he arrived, so now his clothing is a bit more like what he wore back home… plus a few lights and circuits here and there, and a disc on his back, thanks to the Grid’s enhancements.
He barely has time to stand and move toward the door, however, before a hand grips his shoulder, spinning him around. Sam stiffens, then relaxes as strong arms pull him close and a familiar voice growls in his ear. “You’re late.”
“I know. M’sorry…” None of his excuses matter now, not when Tron’s lips are closing over his, and Tron’s hands are working their way under the back of his jacket, and Tron’s body is warm and electric and urging him back toward the closest wall. His back hits the cool surface, disc a hard curve against his spine, and still Tron presses closer, hands roaming over Sam’s stomach, chest, sides, as though memorizing every plane, every muscle. Sam’s fingers slide over Tron’s back, pressing into familiar circuit lines, and the program moans into his mouth, the sound cutting off in a deep growl as Sam slides his fingers up into his hair. They grind together, Sam parting his legs to make room for Tron’s knee pinning him to the wall, and he’s already hard, throbbing against Tron’s hip, and there’s no way he’s going to last long, not like this.
Sam needs more, now, more of this white-hot sensation racing through his body, causing his blood to pound in his ears, but they don’t have time, they never have enough time for anything, and he’s almost surprised Tron hasn’t stopped this already to talk about Important Grid Business, but then Tron’s hand is sliding over his hip and urging his leg up around his waist and he can’t even think anymore. Throwing his head back with a moan, he breaks the kiss, briefly mourning the loss of the sharp-sweet taste of Tron’s mouth, but then the program dips his head and licks a line along Sam’s throat, leaving a sensation of electricity crackling along nerve-circuits Sam didn’t even know he had here, and Sam moans again, fingers tightening in Tron’s hair to pull him closer.
Tron pulls him tighter, hitching Sam’s leg higher over his hip, and now Sam is barely balancing on one foot, the angle awkward as he strains to rock against Tron, needing the heat and friction. Another shift, and suddenly Sam’s other leg is tugged up to wrap around Tron’s waist, the weight and strength of the program holding him up and pinning him to the wall. Tightening his arm around Tron’s shoulders, Sam locks his ankles behind the other’s back and holds on. His legs rub against the circuit nodes at Tron’s hips, causing a flare of energy to surge through the program’s body, the T-lights at his chest burning bright in Sam’s vision. Dipping his head, Sam finds Tron’s mouth again, plunging his tongue past soft, warm lips to taste him, the electricity passing between them intensifying by the moment.
Tron’s fingers find a bright circuit on Sam’s back, under the fabric of his jacket, and Sam gasps, jerking in his grip but not slipping; Tron won’t let him fall. He can feel the smile against his lips as Tron rakes his fingers down the glowing line, the connection that Sam still doesn’t understand even after all this time on the Grid, but fuck, the pleasure shoots through every nerve in his body, making him shake, lights flashing in his vision. Desperate for more, he cants his hips up, grinding against the circuits on Tron’s lower stomach, and is rewarded by a groan and a shudder and another flash of blue-white light.
“Fuck, Tron,” he gasps against Tron’s mouth, the words slurred with need, desire overwhelming every conscious thought. The Grid could collapse around them right here and now, and he’d only notice if the wall derezzed at his back… and maybe not even then. Tron’s hands, Tron’s mouth, Tron’s body are everything right now, hot and firm and strong against him, holding him tight and bringing him higher with every touch, every stroke, every kiss. He’s on the edge already, hard, wound tight, and he knows Tron has to be right there with him, judging from the bright pulse of his circuits he can glimpse in quick flashes.
Sam slides his hand from Tron’s hair to his neck, then over his shoulder, thumbing a bright circuit there before working its way to his chest, slipping between their pressed-together bodies. Breaking the kiss with force of will, he rests his forehead against Tron’s, opening his eyes to watch the program’s reaction as he brushes his fingertips over the T-shaped circuits at his throat. Now it’s Tron’s turn to gasp, curling forward, jerking and writhing against Sam as the nodes flare bright blue-white, a purple tinge on the edge. “Sam…!”
“Yeah… yeah, c’mon…” Sam arches against him, needing that push, that last bit of friction to get him over. Tron lifts his head, a faint smirk twitching the corners of his mouth, and Sam doesn’t have time to process what it might mean before Tron’s hand rakes down the circuit on his back again, pressing hard even as his hips jerk forward, grinding against Sam’s aching groin. Sam cries out, throwing his head back, feeling it hit the wall with a crack that he knows might hurt later but now it’s lost in the surge of pleasure as he moans and writhes against Tron, coming fast and hard, circuits burning white-hot, shudders racing through his body. He’s spinning, dizzy, falling… no, no he’s not, Tron’s still holding him firm and strong against the wall, one arm beneath his thigh, the other around his back, he won’t let him fall, not ever. Sam moans again, pushing his palm flat against the glow at Tron’s throat. He doesn’t understand how, but he lets the electric-white pleasure transfer through his hand, wanting Tron to feel it too, and maybe it’s something of that User power everyone’s always telling him he has, but now he hears Tron moan and feels him shudder and oh, the feedback is running through his circuits and into Sam again and it’s building again, hotter, harder, faster, “Tron, oh god, Tron!”
He feels Tron’s overload hit him, the program stiffening and gasping against him, the pleasure nearly burning Sam as it pours through the circuit connection. His eyes are closed again, but he can still see the glow, bursting in spots behind his vision, exploding in waves as he feels the overload cascading over him, a reflection and amplification of his own orgasm. Dimly, he registers that they’re sliding down the wall, Tron lowering to his knees, and he can feel the other shaking against him as he reluctantly unlocks his legs from behind his back. Leaning weakly against the wall, he pulls Tron to rest against his chest, lying between his bent knees. He strokes his fingers through Tron’s hair, waiting for his own heartbeat to calm, and finally opens his eyes to watch Tron’s circuits return to their usual steady glow.
“Missed me, huh?” Sam murmurs, leaning forward to kiss the top of Tron’s head.
“You were late,” is the simple reply.
“Yeah. I know.” He can’t apologize again… they both know it’ll be useless. A sigh escapes him unbidden, and he trails his fingertips up Tron’s arm. “M’sure you’ve got a lot for me to do here.”
“Mm.” Tron shifts against him, tilting his head to meet his gaze, a faint smile on his face. “It can wait a little longer.”