Untitled DJs/Rinzler story, by naopao (NC-17)

[laughingacademy.livejournal.com]

Fandom: TRON
Pairing: DJs/Rinzler
Length: ~1K words
Author on LJ: naopao
Author Website: http://www.naopao.tumblr.com/
Warnings: AU for Legacy, involving a major spoiler. Dubcon. Songfic. Sorta RPS.
Why this must be read:

There’s a freaking hurricane bearing down on me, so what better time for shameless songfic helmet!OT3 PWP? In this story, it turns out the DJs or “mp3s” are none other than Daft Punk themselves, on the Grid and s3xx1n’ up Rinzler, because why the hell not.

The taller one hefted Rinzler's hands above his head; the shorter fished something out of his pocket and clamped the captive wrists to the wall. The bond glowed blue in the sea of orange and black. He clipped two other straps over Rinzler’s feet.

They tilted Rinzler forward, released his disc with a soft tsskt.

Rinzler flared to life, startling the two intruders; the whirring of his vocalizer shattered the silence. The two programs scrolled words at him. RELAX. PEACE. Rinzler tugged at the bonds, quick, sporadic movements that did nothing but cause him to purr louder. He settled for glaring.

“Who are you?”

Two words flitted across their screens, the smaller one GUY, the larger THOMAS. HI from Thomas and a peace sign from Guy. Thomas reached over his own shoulder, tugging a cord forward. Guy stroked the side of Rinzler's helmet, causing the captive program to flinch and renew his struggles.

“Stop.”

IT’S OKAY, Thomas scrolled.

Both programs moved closer to Rinzler, a few inches between helmets the only comfort Rinzler had. Their hands descended on his shoulders, around his chest, his neck, searching for something. They skirted around sensitive ports and networks, reaching across his back and caressing, exploring. Rinzler couldn’t help but squirm. He felt the energy of the two programs, their metallic fingers sending jolts of... something through his system. Something foreign. New.

Rinzler’s purr turned vicious when Thomas plugged into the port on Rinzler’s neck. Energy surged between the programs, rampant currents that electrified and terrified him. A large pink heart began to pulse on Guy's helmet. Thomas scrolled

NOW PLAYING: NIGHT VISION

Rinzler jerked to the beat of the music pounding through the new connection. His body trembled, helpless to the waves of painful, pleasurable intrusion. Guy pushed into his other audio port, and Rinzler smacked his head against the wall, purring like an engine. A captive to the music, to these mp3 programs, and he had no power to resist. He heard, or rather, felt the gentle clinks of the program’s helmets knocking against his own.

“What – ”

KISS, scrolled Thomas, and a pair of lips flashed across Guy’s helmet, though Rinzler couldn’t see it, not from this close, not when he had this burning heat rushing through his system and overriding his securities and tearing down his defenses. He could hear their voices inside him as they pushed and tugged and enticed in ways only Clu could, from the inside

But completely different.

WE KNOW YOU NEED IT.

I NEED IT, TOO.

The song thrummed along his body, and the wandering hands followed, slipping lower. Kneading and massaging his thighs, curling and cupping his hips and back with a tenderness that left a slow, agonizing burn where their hands passed. Rinzler could hardly keep still with these gentle ministrations, soft, hot, needy touches so unknown to him.

“Untitled”