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Fanworks: Tron: Fics: Party at PoMU: Public Discplay
Summary
"You'd need disc access for that, wouldn't you?" Yori's fingers press down, dragging along a thigh circuit.
"Probably." And now Ram can feel Tron's attention on him. "How about it, Ram? Shall I take a look at your disc?"
A wave of heat shivers through Ram. There's that lovely vulnerable feeling again. He moans, rough, uncontrolled.
It's an intimate thing to let another program hold your disc, to trust someone with the physical manifestation of your very self. Ram's always been free and generous with his intimacy; it wasn't long ago he let Flynn drink from his disc at the spring. But that feels like another life. A life with no future, where trust was easily given to anyone willing to throw in their lot on his side of the fight, because there was so much less to lose.
Tron, though... Tron's hands will always be welcome on any part of him, disc included.
(Ram's at the club. Energy is served. Things get steamy.)
(The aphrodisiac effects of overcharge, the use of identity discs as remote control sex toys, and why a fellow program-in-arms is worth so much more than a User in absentia.)
Author's Note:
I just want Ram to have ALL the good things. This is what happened after he didn't die in "The Greatest Little Deresolution."
This is part 3 of a small trilogy within my I/O Towerverse settings. Each can stand alone pretty well, but they make one full story together. I've separated them because they have distinctly different ratings, and different levels of focus on worldbuilding and headcanons.
There's art at the end, also by me.
*****
Party at PoMU
Part 3: Public Discplay
*****
Liquid energy.
Ram tries to sit still as he waits for it... the lights and sounds of the club pulsing like a drumbeat around him, his mouth tingling in anticipation.
A program in high heels and warrior-style armor, dark-pink-circuited, has arrived with a tray. She goes first to the neighbor table full of Yori's friends, handing them glasses and pitchers. All of them-- Voca and Iox and Mag, and even Rollo_3.77-- look more enthusiastic about the drinks than about the conversation they were just making with Yori. Their attention slides quickly away, onto these new objects of interest.
When the serving program finishes with that table and turns to this one, she still doesn't speak, and her expression is hard to read... but she and Yori communicate something in the glance that passes between them. The server lifts a pitcher from her tray and places it, blue and luminescent, in Yori's hands... then, one by one, sets three glasses down on the table before turning and sauntering off.
Ram's tongue trails over his lips. Oh, the sight and scent of that stuff! He hasn't had a drink of energy since the cavern in the Outlands where they found the spring, and oh, he didn't realize how much he's missed it.
Of course he didn't need any for a while, after all that User-power that Flynn poured into him... and since that wore off he's been absorbing the usual small amount of ambient energy from his surroundings. Still, there's nothing quite like a fresh liquid charge, and this stuff looks better than any he's ever had.
The glasses are simple transparent cylinders. Ram takes one, holds it steady as Yori pours. The stream of cyan glow fills it nearly to the brim, and he gives Yori a thankful smile before raising the drink to his lips.
As it flows into his mouth he can't hold back the beginning of a moan-- which he stifles, embarrassed, only to hear the silence interrupted by Tron making a sound almost as obscene.
Oh, Users, it's good. Better even than the energy from that spring in the cavern, the last place he heard Tron moan like that. The fresh power tingles on Ram's tongue, slides cold and refreshing down his throat and seems to go straight to his circuits, transmuting instantly into light and heat to make him glow.
For a few picos he can barely move, just feeling the charge run all through him, electrifying him, every circuit flaring bright and hot and sensitive.
Anything he could have done to try and suppress the feeling is lost in the distraction of watching Tron and Yori as they, too, drink from their glasses... unmasked pleasure washing across both faces as their lights brighten. Tron laughs, deep and unrestrained, and rests his face against Yori's neck. She nuzzles his cheek; glides her fingers through the hair at the back of his head.
And Ram bites his lip and shivers hot with the urge to touch them both.
He doesn't know if it's an attempt to distract himself, or a longing for lowered inhibitions, but something drives him back to his own glass, sipping down the sweet burn until the circuitry throbs almost painfully at his throat and down his sides. There's an ache building now, a craving for hands on those lightlines, to touch and stroke and ease away the itching static tingle. And it only aches more with every--
He doesn't realize he's drained his glass almost empty, until he sees Yori's eyes slide in a significant glance from one drink to another. She and Tron have only half-emptied their own glasses... Ram's afraid for a moment that he's made one of those social mistakes he was fearing, made himself look greedy or something.
But Yori only lifts the pitcher and leans over. Pouring another measure of the liquid into Ram's glass-- almost to the brim again, topping it off.
Leaving her own and Tron's glasses only about half-filled, Ram's portion at least double theirs now.
Oh.
The implication hits him with a flush of warmth, far hotter than could be explained by the amount of energy he's had.
They know what he is, of course. Actuarial program. Probability calculator. They couldn't be placing such quantities in front of him and not expect him to add up how much it is, and what it's likely to do to him when he consumes it.
The measure he's had already was enough to boost his energy levels to bright alertness; a giddy, giggly hyperactivity that thrums through his functions. On this much charge, he could play a good round of discs or lightcycles, or run a micro's worth of calculations with no trouble. But if he were to keep charging...
...He's been overcharged before, during a time when the MCP cut his shifts on the game grid without cutting his rations. Perhaps deliberate, perhaps a form of torture, a humiliation tactic.
Might've worked on some programs, but not Ram.
He was lucky Tron was with him. And that he had no shame whatsoever, by then, about Tron and the things they did together.
There's only one way to burn off those achingly high energy levels.
His breath rasps as he realizes, with his current charge pulsing hot in every circuit, that he's never wanted that experience so desperately as he wants it now, here, with these two.
He lowers his eyelids, giving Tron and then Yori a twisted smile and a heated, meaningful look as he lifts the goblet to his lips.
Oh yes.
Another few deep, delicious swallows go down so easily, on top of his existing energy levels. Oh, the burn is so good... cheeks flush warm; breaths come out as low whimpers.
His guard is almost fully lowered now. Nothing left to warn him that he's had enough already and ought to stop. On the contrary, the energy inside him calls for more-- in the same way that the tingle of arousal on his skin circuits is now begging for the caress of hands, knowing that contact would build that urge higher and higher until it explodes.
He moans against the lip of the glass as he takes another drink. He's not sure if he has enough in the glass for this, but it's possible to charge to the point of overloading on the charge alone, untouched...
And, as much as Ram wants the touch of Tron's and Yori's hands on him... ohh, the feel and taste of so much energy, sparkling on his tongue and in his throat and along every circuit of his skin-- it all feels so, so good... Ram's seriously considering it, the prospect of just letting the energy itself carry him over the edge.
But Tron's leaning toward him, now, hand beckoning. "Ram? Hey, come here."
And as good as the power feels, the irresistible attraction of Tron outweighs it all. Ram's hand is shaking as he sets down the nearly-empty glass. Even just sliding across the seat toward Tron is more stimulation now than he'd imagined. He can't hold back the noises he makes at the friction of the material against his lower circuitry, he only manages to stifle them to a slightly lower volume.
"Ohh yeah," he gasps as he reaches his friend's side at last. The contact is a bright shuddering wave of pleasure as he leans in, shocks tingling from every circuit that brushes against one of Tron's. He finds his hands grasping for purchase, latching onto sides and hips as he pulls himself onto Tron's lap and rocks down against him, needy, aching, desperate.
"Mmmm," Tron groans, chest vibrating against Ram as he holds him close. "You all right? Energy levels look a little high."
Ram laughs, giddy, as he grinds himself against Tron harder and harder-- of course his energy's high, and it's fantastic, and he's going to--
"Easy there." And Tron's suddenly grasping and moving him, lifting Ram effortlessly off of his lap and setting him down almost back where he was, his spine arching in protest against the backrest of the seat as he groans in frustration at the loss of contact.
He wants to sob and beg and demand, he wants-- but then he sees Tron's eyes. Sees a specific sparkle in them that he's seen on several other, vividly remembered occasions.
Tron has a plan. And ohh, the electric shivers that chase each other again and again down the circuit-lines of Ram's back are almost too much to bear. He knows that look, and this is the kind of plan that's going to make Ram scream from delicious torment as he's teased right to the edge, again and again...
And it is going to be so, so, so very worth it.
Ram bites his lip and fails to hold back a pathetic moan, as he plants his hands down at his sides and leans back, waiting.
His circuitry crackles all over with the tickling burn of electrostatic, and the waves of it ripple inward, again and again, to converge between his parted thighs where all the inner sensors of his I/O transceiver are already swelling hard and tight with desire... reminding him that, as good as this is going to feel, it'll be even better, someday soon, when he gets the chance to seek audience with his User at the Tower.
Oh, that's going to be so, so good when it happens, he just knows it-- the pleasure responses of a program's body are built around the instinct to report to the Users, and the best, ideal way to relieve the urges is to answer the Call and surrender yourself into the light chamber. To stand bathed in the divine beam of User-power and reach toward the Realm of the Invisible, your body arching up to release all the pent-up data you've collected for the offering, and all the energy you've built up to power that transmission...
But that's one more of the pleasures his future holds. That wondrous, mysterious future that he can still barely believe is real. One more thing to look forward to, later. He breathes in, out, shaky but smiling as his chest heaves.
Ram's waited two hundred microcycles for that kind of release, and he can wait a bit more. Because, oh, Tron has gotten good at helping him ease the pressure as he waits. Only the User can receive the transmitted data, but the touch of a program can release the energy buildup in the meantime, whenever it gets too high to bear--
and yes, yes, yes Tron's going to start doing that to him here and now, and Ram's shivering with anticipation for it--
"Mmm, you are just so overheated, aren't you?" Tron trails a finger down Ram's cheek, clearly savoring the way Ram leans into even just that light touch. The murmur of approval makes Ram want to press back harder, but then Tron's hand is gone again, and there's only his laughing voice. "You do seem to be processing the energy a bit too fast, don't you? Wonder why that is."
Ram twists and whimpers and doesn't attempt the obvious answer-- that he's had nearly two full glasses of the stuff over the span of a few nanocycles, of course he's overcharged-- because the teasing tone in Tron's voice promises that this questioning is all part of the game, and oh yes Ram is going to play along with whatever Tron wants.
Yori's leaning over now, too, almost against Tron's back as she peers over his shoulder. Her eyes are as playful, as mischievous as Tron's, and oh yes yes yes her hand is sliding stealthily around Tron's side to rest on the circuits of Ram's thigh... stroking... promising.
Her touch is so smooth and soft, exquisite as it slips along his circuits. The feedback shoots right into the aching swell of his I/O sensors, and his hips jerk up uncontrollably, his head tossing from side to side with a rough cry that rips from his throat. "Y-yes, ah, ah, ahhh..."
"Hmm." Yori's voice is playful, her eyes still on Tron. "I see what you mean. Charge went up much too fast. Something in his power management routines, maybe?"
Ram just squirms under her touch, head tipped back, whimpering in delicious agony.
Tron makes a sound of agreement. "Could be. I could run a diagnostic for him..."
"You'd need disc access for that, wouldn't you?" Yori's fingers press down, dragging along a thigh circuit as she says those words. Everything in Ram tenses up in that pulse of pleasure.
"Hmm, probably." And now Ram can feel Tron's attention directed back at him. "How about it, Ram? Shall I take a look at your disc?"
Another wave of heat shivers all the way through Ram. Oh yes. There's that lovely vulnerable feeling again, and he moans, loud and rough, uncontrolled.
Yes, it's an intimate thing to let another program hold your disc, to trust someone with the physical manifestation of your very self. Ram's always been free and generous with his intimacy, of course; it wasn't so long ago that he let Flynn drink from his disc at the spring, despite being almost a stranger.
But that now feels like another life. A life without any promise of future, where trust was more easily given to anyone willing to throw in their lot on his side of the fight, because there was so much less to lose.
Tron, though... Tron's hands will always be welcome on any part of him, disc included.
And the thought of Tron touching him that way, Tron examining all his functions through his disc interface, stimulating him on that deepest and most personal level-- here in public, in front of Yori, in front of this room full of celebrating strangers...
Ram can't even think, can barely move. Head arching back, hips sliding forward, he makes a helpless sound that goes on a while, low and wavering, before it trails off into "yyeesss".
And Tron turns, half-rises from his own seat and leans in over him, one hand flat against the back of the couch next to Ram's head, the other hand cupping Ram's chin and pulling him close for a kiss.
It's warm and soft and perfect and Ram is tingling all over, hot and shivery with need, making desperate little noises into the press of mouths, arching and trembling with his own hands on Tron's chest like he's hanging on for his life. Yori is watching him over Tron's shoulder, wrapped around Tron from behind with her face half-nestled in his neck, humming softly in appreciation, and it all inflames Ram even more.
And when Tron's hand finally reaches around behind him and disengages his disc from its dock just as their lips part, Ram twists and cries out in anguish-- already missing Tron's mouth more than the disc itself.
He doesn't get more than a picocycle to process that loss, though. Because the next sensation is his disc responding to Tron's hands, and--
Ram's own hands grip as tight as possible onto the edge of the seat, leaning back, legs parting wider, a single fast breath drawn in.
The feeling shifts, almost too rapidly to follow, from what seems like a comforting embrace... what he might feel if his disc were really his whole body, cupped all over in the warmth of those hands... transmuting so fast into more specific contact. As Tron's grip splays out, each finger now grazing a different spot on a different ring of the disc's concentric pattern, Ram's head tosses back as he feels each touch find its corresponding place on the sensory map of his render.
He moans, lip caught painfully in his teeth as his whole body shakes so hard that breaths can't seem to find room between the spasms. Every fingertip on his disc is a caressing hand along a different circuit. The triangular identity mark at his throat... the nodes of his hips, the sensitive patterns radiating from his disc dock, the lines of his upper thighs as they curve achingly close to--
"yesyesyesyes-Tron-please--" the words spill out as fast in audio format as they do in data-pings to Tron's mind, desperate enough already to beg without restraint. He can't see, his eyes are shut tight and even when they open there's almost nothing but the violet haze of passion, but he knows his whole circuit-map is pulsating in a spectrum of magenta and purple, bright enough to catch every eye in the room. He's going to-- right here-- oh, he has to-- there's no processing memory left for embarrassment, no tasklist except the frantic urge to keep begging and pleading for touch until those hands stroke each one of his tingling lightlines to completion.
"Other way," Yori says, her voice holding back soft laughter-- and suddenly Ram can feel her hand on the other side of the disc, a different frequency of electric vibration, pulling at Tron's like a playful tug-of-war. "You're turning the charge up, not down."
"Doesn't matter which way." There's a low chuckle behind Tron's voice as well. "It'll get there either way I turn it."
Yori hums her amusement, as one smooth glide of her fingertip paints a line of bright-violet sensation down the answering circuit of Ram's thigh. "I mean, if you want integer overflow..."
"Why don't we ask him what he wants?" Tron's eyes, heavy-lidded, burn into Ram, whose eyes are clenched shut but he can still feel the look, as hot as the fingers that are still moving, stimulating all his most sensitive places without even touching him. "What do you think, hmm? How would you prefer to get there?"
Ram's heels dig into the floor at the base of the bench; his nails claw hard at the material of the seat.
"Oh, Tron..." The moan resonates through the whole arch of his back. "Oh-- Yori! ...hhhh... y-yes, yesyesyes-- more... more-more-more..."
"You heard him." Ram can see Tron's smile at Yori, in his mind, as clearly as if he were watching the play of eyes between the two.
"All right then." And just as her fingers find and press against a spot that sends a tickling, itching rush of agony-ecstasy radiating out through five or six circuit-branches at once--
--he senses other eyes on Yori, through the energy of her touch, the shift in her response.
"We have got to catch up on what happened!"
It's Yori's friend Voca, leaning over the seat. She's finished her drink; there's the warmth of inhibitions receding and interest rising, in how her energy turns toward them all. Ostensibly focused on Yori, but plenty in the periphery for Ram. "So many rumors flying around! But aside from notifications vital to our functions, we've gotten almost nothing confirmed. It was Tron who took down the MCP, wasn't it?"
"Partly," Tron says, still focused on Ram, but his touch becoming lighter, less deliberate. "Group effort. I had help."
"And... what about the rumor that there was a User in the system? Was there really? Did you meet him?" It's a vibrant, warm, suggestive voice, and the idea that Voca and everyone else at that table are watching him makes Ram shiver hot all over with pleasure and desire-- even as he wants to break into frustrated sobs at the slight diversion of Yori and Tron's attention away from his needs.
"I did. And yes, he was a User, I'm sure of it now. And he did help us." Tron's voice lowers. "Ram met him too."
"Oh, tell me all about it!" And now the focus of Voca's attention is fully on Ram; he can feel the shift in every circuit.
"I... nnn... yeahhh I-I met him," Ram gasps, hips rising and falling with each syllable. "We were... hit. Hurt. Enemy tank. --we took shelter in a-a-a Recognizer and... oh, OH!"
"Ah yes," Tron says softly, beginning to move one finger in a tight, infuriating circle against a spot on the outermost ring. "Never got the whole story on that. You did mention you were hurt-- so badly that the User thought you'd been derezzed. When I asked him, he told me you didn't make it. Care to tell us exactly what did happen?"
"T-tank rounds." Ram's teeth clench around the words, he can barely feel his own hands in the tightness of their grip on the seat. "Knocked our bikes from a cliff, I was hurt bad, but in the Reco he... hhhnnn, ah, ah, Tron..."
"Go on, Ram." The finger stills for a moment, taunting him.
That stillness might be the only thing allowing Ram the presence of mind to find words anymore. "... His User power... healed me. I don't think he even knew what was going on, but... his touch, his energy-- it made me better. Lots better. So much better that I-- mmmm, ahh..." And now he knows he's blushing all over, circuitry glowing magenta that usually isn't even visible on the surface of his shell, in response to the heat of that memory.
And of course, frag it, of course Tron knows what that blush means. "Ram. Are you telling me that you-- the User-- that he and you--"
"He d-didn't know it," Ram whimpers. "He was powerful, kind and well-meaning and so strong but-- but he did not know everything. He d-didn't know what it meant, when he touched me and I... I, um... hhnnn.... I just... ah, ahh, aa-and went all, nnh, in-incorporeal for a while--"
"Ohhh..." And that's Yori's voice, and oh, Users, somehow that's even hotter. "From the touch of a User's power... I can only imagine...Oh, Ram... What was it like?"
"I... you're right." Ram's voice is impossibly high and thin now, straining to escape through the pressure of it all. "Y-you can only imagine. There aren't-- there aren't words. I'll-- I'll share the memory sometime, but even--" He can't stay still, he's writhing on the seat, tossing and turning at the tumultuous mix of Tron's and Yori's touches on his disc, and the silent watching eyes of the strangers, and the memory of Flynn's touch, Flynn's power overloading him, a memory that even now he knows is already a pale shadow of the experience itself; even firsthand memory can't hold anything near what it was really like--
"I d-don't even know how long it took me to rerezz. But I know I--I went so totally, mmh, energy-cloud... I must've, must've phased all the w-way through the Reco. Woke up from reboot on the ground in-- in the canyon, that's how, how out-of-it I was. It's-- oh, there's nothing, nothing else like it at all."
"Ohh, yeah..." Tron's voice sounds as low and reverent as it's ever sounded in his most devoted prayers to the Users. "Ohh, I'm sure there isn't... Suppose I should feel a bit insecure, huh?" And now Ram can hear the voice turn up, lighter, warmer, following the self-conscious half-smile that he can almost see on Tron's face. "An experience like that... we can never measure up to it, can we, Yori and me. I suppose you're ruined for anyone less than a User, now." And his fingers press down, softly, slowly, in several spots at once-- and so do Yori's, interlaced between them.
Ram's eyes go wide, a bright vision-field of purple haze now laced with lightning-bolts of urgency and something like panic-- even as his hips jerk up against air, even as he feels the circuits below his belt pixelizing from the excess energy already leaking off of him. "No! Oh, Tron...N-no, you're--"
He can't find the words to explain it. Even if he had any processing power left for words, for explaining, in the middle of this storm of pleasure. But the truth is phasing through him, like his energy through the floor of that Recognizer, becoming one for a moment, even as he can't quite understand the alien composition of this truth.
As incomparable as Flynn's touch was... this is better. As much more powerful as Flynn was... as much greater by every possible metric... as thoroughly as the pleasure of that moment whited out all Ram's senses with its sheer unparalleled intensity...
...This touch, this caress from loving companions, whose awareness and intent make the touch warmer than the whole oblivious blaze of Flynn's User-energy...
...this sensation that allows itself to be felt in every detail, wholly comprehensible and fitting cozily within the capacity of his memory, instead of maxing out all senses to the point of overwhelm-- this is better.
The sort of touch that welcomes a real and lasting love to grow from it. The sort of feeling that's a foundation to build life on. The feeling of having a future.
"No," Ram breathes, ragged, aching, like they're the last words he'll ever get to say. "No. Can't compare. Not-- going to compare you to him. He... He made me feel like I was derezzing. But you... you make me feel like living."
"...Yes."
Tron breathes it low and gentle, and Ram can't tell how much of the sound is relief and how much is agreement with the feeling-- but in the pulsing of his need, the word joins in Ram's mind with the sudden, hard, synchronized stroke of multiple fingers along multiple pathways to form a multi-format stream of data that feels to him, in that moment, like nothing else more than permission.
The energy that coils pent-up in each circuit and subroutine of his code, it follows that permission like a command, without his conscious control, like he's surrendered all control to the permissions of Tron and Yori and their fingers on the most intimate lines of his identity, caressing his release out of him-- bypassing anything in his own mind at all, a direct command straight to his hips and his I/O transceiver and every pulse of energy through every circuit-line, bursting in glorious uncontrollable torrents of power-- in violent electrified jerks of motion in time with the blinding pulses of light and heat and--
--and even with his whole render shaking mid-overload, he can tell, the moment all of their attention focuses to watch it. Tron's, Yori's, even the eyes of Voca and Mag and Iox and Rollo_3.77 and maybe others from other tables too-- he's sure he can feel them all now. A charged and hungry gaze on him, watching the tremble of his body shift into this too-fast frequency.
Watching his hips rock, and the hot glow of his release spread across the whole front of him. Exquisite pleasure and divine humiliation and he can't even tell the difference now. Ram closes his eyes tight against the burn of his cheeks, listens to the whimpering desperation of his own moans and just lets it all sweep him along, helpless. So good, so good--
"Oh, Users, Ram, yes--" And just hearing how wrecked Tron's voice sounds, just from watching him-- oh.
The shudders wrack him for long, long, delicious moments. No control. Even through his eyelids and the haze of desire, he can see how bright the pulses of his own circuits are, rising and falling in obscene rhythm. Anyone in this club who's even caught a peripheral-vision glimpse of him knows what's happening, and the thought of it only makes him hotter. It still just all feels so, so uncontrollably good, it's rushing on forever and ever and his pleasure functions are going to short out, he can't stand it, he doesn't want it ever to stop--
He arches in one last full-body spasm, hooks his arms over the back of the seat, slides hips forward and legs wide open, throws his head back, throws off any remaining scrap of inhibitions-- lets his voice follow the dizzying peak of his ecstasy and crest all the way to a scream.
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*****
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It's strange, the feel of it when the glow overtakes him this time. When it spreads and shimmers all the way to his cognitive processes. Usually there's at least a glint of loneliness in it, overloading by himself, derezzing into the rainbow energy-cloud of afterglow without anyone to merge with. But oh, oh, this time...
...he'd known the presence of these two was powerful. And oh, even though they're not melting along with him, even though it isn't their bodies going all blurred and shimmery and phasing through his own... the energy of them's still so vividly there. Thoughts flicker down to nothing, and the emotions that remain are all just softness and warmness-- the feeling of Tron and Yori cradles him, soothes him, holds him close like a friend and lover, even while he's just a cloud of lazily swirling light.
So good. So, so, so good.
When he rerezzes from it, all warm and soft and freshly restarted, he's in their arms. Sprawled across both laps, half on his side with his face against the glorious softness of Yori's chest, his shoulders blissfully relaxing under her massage.
He can't tell yet, and doesn't quite care, if Yori's friends at the next table are still watching, or if they've gone home. All he cares about right now is here. Tron is half wrapped around Yori too, because of course he is... and that means a strong arm draped over Ram's waist, and that charming smile to greet him as he shyly turns his head.
Ram's hand reaches to intertwine fingers with Tron's... and, instead, finds his disc loosely grasped there. He tugs at it, grinning.
"I think," he says, as much tease behind his voice as he can manage while so completely blissed out, "you fixed the overcharge."
Tron's whole face is just radiant as he leans in, pulling Ram against his own chest, taking his mouth in a kiss that makes all Ram's senses spiral into such a lightheaded chaos that he barely notices the hand pressing his disc back into its dock. The deep snap of pleasure in the reconnection is nearly lost in the sensory paradise of Tron's mouth sharing soft pressure and wet heat with his own.
"You're welcome." Tron's voice is almost pure play, still... but underneath layers and layers of that giddy joy, Ram can sense a tension that's been set aside for later. A lot later, maybe... but it's still there.
Ram may have just rebooted from one of the best overloads he can remember, but it's not escaping him that his partners are still waiting... and he's never gonna let it be said of him that he's not a generous lover.
"How can I ever, ever repay you," he murmurs through a lazy, suggestive smile. "Happy to help with any future needs either of you might have."
And he can sense Yori's energy, too, a different electrostatic charge... also vibrating, patient but eager, beneath all those layers of calm affection.
"Mmm." He feels her smile hum against his ear. "Let's discuss that at home. There's a lot more room there, for all of us to... well, to do pretty much anything."
There's something in the way she says "home," this time, that carries a little extra packet of data. A suggestion that it's their home, now. Ram included. Plenty of room for three.
And now he holds her, not ready to let go. A bit more overcome with feeling than he would've expected. Corners of his eyes burning; chest tight; the pressure of bodies against him forming a comfort that's so, so desperately needed.
Oh yes. Ram moans in the complicated pleasure of it all.
Yes. Home is dazzling.
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*****
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END OF LINE
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*****
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Fanworks: Tron: Fics: Party at PoMU: Public Discplay
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