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Anon fell to his knees, exhausted.

Today proved to be a real pain in the ass, leaving the Program with very little time to stop and breathe. Rest, he needed rest, and energy. Everything ached and throbbed, and Anon had staggered half-way into the cave.

Anon dropped to his knees by the spring, the bottom half of his helmet folding aside. He bent forward, sloppily scooping and slurping up handfuls of the pure energy. Didn't even care he was making a mess of himself, soaking the front of his suit. When the energy touched his wary circuits, they flickered, rejuvenated.

Anon still needed to time out for a while. Anon continued gorging until he felt bloated. With a groan, he sat back, all the tension easing its way down his torso and melting away. He wiped the energy from his chin before reaching back and plucking the disc from his plug.

Anon's fingers shook a little as he opened the interface panel, displaying all the damaged coding. He was surprised at some of the injuries. He didn't even realize he'd taken such an extensive beating. Perhaps the pain had dulled enough to numb the wounds from registering. It was beyond superficial, however, and Anon scowled as he painstakingly went to work patching things up to the best of his abilities.

Anon suddenly whipped his arm back, disc whirring loudly. Ready to attack, ready to cut through data. At the small chortle, Anon glanced up, holding his disc a mere inch from Gibson's throat. The ISO didn't look too frightened; crouching, hands up, grinning smugly. Anon quickly closed the rest of his helmet, once more hiding the entirety of his face.

"Can't get anything past you," Gibson smirked. "Flynn programmed you well."

Anon snorted, drawing back his disc. His circuits flickered weakly, catching the ISO's attention.

"You look a little haggard. How you holding up?"

Anon took a moment, looked at his disc. He grumbled and hunched forward, shoulders sagging and body slack.

Gibson chuckled. "Yeah, you look like you could use a nice time out." He studied the Program's movements; his arms were trembling slightly. "Hey," he said, snapped his fingers, "let me." He pointed to the disc.

Anon looked between them, curious.

"Let me do the repairs."

Anon didn't respond.

"You're shaking."

Anon tilted his head.

Gibson sighed and rolled his eyes. "You could mess up, and I'm a pro," he said. "Just relax and kick back and let me handle it."

Anon hesitated. The two hadn't gotten off to a very good start. In fact, Gibson had made a terrible first impression. But after being rescued from the games and leading the Program to the colony, there was enough trust... Enough that Anon hesitantly, slowly handed Gibson his disc.

The ISO beamed. "Thatta boy," he said and with an exhale, sat back. Anon watched as he accessed the interface, examining the errors. "Man, some of your coding's nearly fried."

The Program snorted and forced himself to sit back, no matter how stiff he was.

"Don't worry, though," Gibson sneered, "I'll have you patched up in no time. Easy stuff, don't even need a User for it."

Anon wasn't sure he believed that. The ISO, however, proved him wrong. Gibson was speedily fixing one broken strand after the other, and almost immediately Anon could feel the knots in his shoulders disappear. He rolled them forward, mumbled something. Maybe approval.

Gibson smiled. "See?"

The Monitor ignored the smug tone in his voice. They remained in silence as Gibson continued with the repairs, little by little. The tension and pain steadily drained from Anon's body. He rubbed his neck, dug fingers into his nape. It felt so damn good, like he was getting a full body massage. He couldn't stop the groan slipping from his concealed lips, but thought nothing of it.

Gibson, however, paused, looked up at him. Anon rubbed his neck, sighing. The ISO studied the disc, pushed aside one line of code to tend to another.

A second later, Anon's back was arching forward. The leather and mesh of his uniform stretched over muscles, another soft moan escaping.

Gibson swallowed, and now his fingers were quivering a little. Another distraction kept him from his work. Anon was massaging his thighs, both hands clenching and pumping up and down in slow, tight strokes, from knee back toward groin, repeating the process twice before tending to the other leg.

Gibson slowly lowered his gaze, sorted through more coding. He was trying hard, very hard to stay focused, but Anon was making that extremely difficult. Especially with how he was stretching out now, back bending until something popped. His body formed a perfect arch, stomach and groin raised to the air.

Really, now, this was getting ridiculous.

“Think I worked out all the kinks?”

Anon gave a thumbs up. He sat up, pinching between shoulder and neck.

Gibson chortled. "If you give me a couple more kilos," he hummed, picking apart the interface array, "I can make you feel more than just 'good.'"

The Program didn't understand. But then Gibson was taunting one strand, and a surge of hot pleasure seared up Anon's backbone. Anon gasped, leaning back in the same position as before. Gibson continued manipulating the coding, that heat suddenly coiling around Anon like a lover's embrace.

“Nnn...!” Anon grunted. He was shivering, but not out of pain; he could barely keep himself from collapsing. He groaned as the warmth pooled into his belly, further, further down...

"Good?" Gibson leered. His fingers flicked through ghostly strands of binary and Anon grunted, bending forward. His hands groped earth, spine wrapped in tendrils of heat. The feather soft impressions of invisible fingers worked down his sides, caressed hips and slipped down between his legs.

Anon choked.

"Just tell me if you want me to stop," Gibson insisted, twirling a finger. Anon gasped and threw himself back, that amazingly flexible backbone dipping into a delicious curve. The Monitor's hands tugged and pulled at the material over his thighs, attempting to stop himself from going--

Fuck it. Anon cupped his erection in one hand, squeezing, tugging. Anon went to withdraw his hands, stop the teasing, but Anon shot up a hand and shook his head.

Gibson grinned. "No problem." He sat back, watching Anon's circuits turn from blue-white to a pale violet. "You don't look like you need another hand," Gibson said. Anon began rutting desperately into both his hands, hips quivering. Riding into the heat tingling his skin, soothing his muscles, shooting pleasure down his spine, into his ass, along his hard dick and Christ that ISO was just grinning at him like a fucking pervert, lounging comfortably a few feet away.

Gibson swirled more data around his finger, and Anon was keening, collapsing on his back. His undulating hips bucked into his hands palming his erection. The heels of his boots ground in the dirt, head rolling softly back and forth. Somewhere during the process of Gibson's manipulations, the collar around Anon's throat had peeled back, revealing thin jagged circuits against pale flesh.

The ISO was all ready half-mast, but those beautiful flushed circuits... The longer Anon rode through the pleasure, the once near invisible venous neck circuits began to brighten, only to slithered up beneath the helmet and out of sight. Gibson could only imagine them as the circuits climbed the length of Anon's face, curved along cheekbones, smooth beneath squinted, glazed eyes, maybe just passing the corners of parted, panting lips...

"User," Gibson croaked, his pants way too tight. Anon hadn't heard him over the sounds of his own gasps reverberating along the inside of his helmet. "You're... Frag." The ISO shook his head, head heavy and a little dizzy with lust.

The Monitor sucked in hot air. He made a small, pleading noise, nervously twitching.

Gibson looked up. "Release?" Anon turned his head, looked at him, and instantly the ISO understood. "Can do, can do," he smirked. Shoving aside more coding, it took only a flick of Gibson's wrist and Anon was sitting up like a rag doll. He gazed down, the bottom half of his suit derezzing, exposing his hard cock. His circuits radiated in something akin to surprise and embarrassment.

"What is it? Never seen your dick before?" Gibson laughed. Then it hit him, his smile replaced with a look of surprised realization. As far as he knew, Anon was a newly written Program, one who had no time to... "Well, frag," the ISO snickered, slapping hands over his eyes, "I guess I should feel honored!"

Anon scowled. "Hnn." His legs wobbled, knees buckled. He pointed at the ground, demanding.

Gibson's own white circuits flashed. "... Yeah, of course," he said. "I take it you've never had a little private time to... get to know yourself better..."

Anon scowled, annoyed.

"Well, there's a first time for everything!" the ISO beamed. He snapped fingers at the energy pool behind Anon. "Use that. It ought to work."

The Program looked between Gibson and the spring, confused. Gibson stifled his laughter. "You're gonna need it, trust me," he said. Anon still looked a little lost. Gibson shrugged.

"Here," Gibson said, crawling over to the pool. "Turn around," he ordered, spinning a finger in a circle. Anon hesitated before carefully moving around, hands lingering over his erection. Gibson dipped his hand in the sparkling energy, pulled it out. The Program watched as it dripped from Gibson's fingers, puddling at his feet.

"Now, this is gonna hurt a little, but your coding should adjust quickly," Gibson warned. He placed a hand to the Program's knee, pushed his leg open. "Watch closely, okay? There's gonna be a test," he teased. Anon flinched as the ISO slipped his wet hand beneath him. "Raise your hips a little."

Anon obeyed quietly. A finger was at the cleft of his ass, stroking. "Hold tight, kid," he mumbled. Anon winced as the finger pushed between the cheeks; he gasped at insertion, pushing past the ring of muscle; he clenched down. Gibson met what he believed to be the line of the Program's eyesight, said, "Come on, relax. You need to relax. Otherwise this ain't gonna be much fun."

"Ah..." Anon swallowed and choked. He managed to relax just enough, letting Gibson rub fingers around the ring. He praised him with a soft coo, only using his tip to prob, just barely.

"I'm gonna go in deeper, okay?"

Anon nodded.

After a little adjusting, Gibson slid his finger in knuckle deep, and it took all of Anon's efforts from tightening up again. The finger pulled out, not completely, thrust back inside. The pace was slow, careful and the longer it continued, the easier and more bearable it became. It wasn't until there were two fingers inside him did Anon jerk forward, clawing up a chunk of rock from the ground.

"Sorry," Gibson tittered. Anon thwacked him upside the head. "Hey, hey, I've got my fingers inside you, you know." He emphasized his point with one rather jerky thrust. The Program whimpered and slouched back again.

Just a little more, stroking, scissoring, and then Gibson pulled his hand back.

Anon felt... hollow.

Gibson took the Program's hand, led him toward the pool. "Now..." He dipped Anon's fingers into the energy until they soaked his gloves. Anon grimaced when the ISO then placed his hand against his cock. "... It's your turn." Gibson sneered. "I told you there'd be a quiz."

A dubious grunt.

"You can do it," Gibson assured, "it's not ubiquitous computing science, y'know."

Anon scowled, but... This heat was becoming too unbearable. With a little nod, he got into position, hand between his legs. He had to lean forward on bent knees for access, one finger nervously before pushing in. He gasped, nearly stopped all together before the ISO rubbed supportive circles on his back, thumbs caressing circuits.

With another loud swallow, Anon pushed back inside. He was pliant enough for a second finger, and suddenly, there was a rush of pure ecstasy, one he'd never experienced before. Anon picked up the pace, surprising the ISO bending over him. Two digits working in and out, faster and faster and soon Anon was gasping, heaving.

The Program was caught in a haze, didn't care if his face was planted against Gibson's lap, right against the other man's erection. It was easier in this position, ass up, Anon fucking himself on his fingers with such need. And oh God it felt good, yet not enough, not nearly enough.

"Havin' fun there?" Gibson tittered. He half-yelped when the front of Anon's helmet brushed against his cock, up, back down. It wasn't accidental, either; the Program knew what he was doing, kept kneading his concealed face against Gibson's crotch. "F-Frag, kid," the ISO stammered.

Anon heaved, much in the same fashion as a User panting. His fingers were thrusting blindly, unevenly in speed, but it still wasn't satisfying. The noises he was making, so needy, and then Gibson heard the hiss of the Program's helmet opening, exposing a mouth. Gibson stiffened as he felt Anon running his tongue along the ISO's clothed erection.

That seemed to do it. "Okay, okay, no more," Gibson grunted. He tore himself away, quickly derezzing clothing. He turned, doused a hand in the energy before grabbing Anon by his arm. The Program was thrown off guard, fingers barely out before he was suddenly on his back, ass in the ISO's lap. Gibson was cursing to himself as he wet down his dick with a shaky hand.

He looked down, saw Anon close his helmet just in time. "On your knees, come on, come on," Gibson ordered hurriedly, gesturing him up. The Program sat up, feeling like a bag of bricks and light as air, and then the ISO's fingers were buried in his hips with bruising force. Yanked forward, he looked down, saw he was aligned with the hard cock... He wiggled a little.

"Ah, no, stop teasin'," Gibson growled. Anon couldn't help but smirk. Gibson hissed, thrust Anon down, burying half his dick inside him. The Program howled, fingers scrambling to grab the front of Gibson's coat. Muscles clenched around Gibson's cock, fast and painfully.

Gibson snarled, "Come on, what'd I tell you about loosening up?"

Anon growled, throwing a hand in the air. Trying!

Gibson gave a frustrated growl and forced Anon back up, half way before slamming him down again.

Anon whimpered, throwing himself forward.

"Work with me, Anon," Gibson grumbled. Anon stayed put a moment, slowly but surely lifting his hips. Gibson sighed and shut his eyes, gently butting forehead to forehead with the Program. "All right, now we're making progress."

The ISO continued guiding Anon for the most part, but it wasn't as if he did all the work. The Program moved with his hands, fell with them, each gentle thrust helping to soothe the ache. Gibson's hands cupped his hips, much gently now as Anon finally took the reins.

"Good, you're doing good, kid," Gibson whispered over the Program's mewls. Anon placed his hands on the ISO's shoulders for balance, rising, falling at a steady pace.

"You wanna try going faster now?" Gibson asked a few minutes later.

Anon paused a moment. He nodded.

Gibson smiled crookedly. "That's my boy," he gibed. He snapped his hips forward, burying himself deeper inside Anon. Anon yelped, muscles quivering. He went with the flow, little by little matching speed.

Anon leaned forward, forehead against Gibson's. Rubbing his slick skin as he moved.

"You like this, don't you?" Gibson chuckled lightly. Anon purred huskily. "User, you really needed this, didn't you?"

The Program scowled.

"I'm not patronizing you," Gibson whispered, closed his eyes. He nuzzled against Anon's masked face. "Mm'not, believe me."

All remaining apprehension was gone. Anon continued grinding into Gibson's lap, riding him with abandon. The sounds--gasps, moans, cries, whimpers--reverberating off the cave walls.

Anon suddenly gasped, recoiled. He looked clearly shocked and nervous.

Gibson winked. "Relax. You're about to overload," he said, winced, "me, too, s-soon."

Anon's circuits turned white.

"Yeah, overload," the ISO replied and Anon gave a startled cry, "enjoy the ride, buddy."

Overloading--it was... almost impossible to describe. It was pain, it was pleasure, it was hot, it was Heavenly. Anon threw his head back, stars in his eyes as he climaxed for the first time. It went through his circuits like rushing waves, tingling every single inch of his body. And then Gibson's arms were wrapped around him, pressed into his stomach and the ISO was gasping words, unintelligent and fevered.

In a brilliant flash of light, it was over. It felt like an eternity, but it was only a few seconds. Gibson was still clinging to him, milking the last of his orgasm. The bright light between them winked out of existence and Anon went limp in Gibson's arms, the flaccid cock still nestled inside him.

Gibson raised his head, smile weary. "Was it... was it good for you?" he chuckled hoarsely.

Anon huffed and pushed at his chest gently.

Gibson laughed; he slid back, pulling out of the Program. Anon wriggled off, getting comfortable on the cool ground.

Gibson sat forward, sighing. He watched Anon take his disc, fix the last bit of damaged coding and rerezz the bottom half of his uniform.

Gibson tilted his head, reflection faint in Anon's black helmet. He nudged Anon's leg with a foot.

"Hey."

Anon looked up.

"Open your helmet."

Anon shook his head.

"Why not?"

The Program looked away.

"But I want to kiss you."

Anon whipped his head back with obvious surprise. Gibson grinned. "Come on," he said. "After what we just did, what's wrong with a little kissing?"

The Program bowed his head, thought a moment. He placed a hand over the top of his helmet.

"Kissing usually involves closing your eyes, y'know. I won't peek."

Anon growled.

Gibson blinked. "Yeah, okay," he said, "I won't peek!" He closed his eyes. "See? I'm not looking."

Anon grumbled something.

"Will do," Gibson laughed. He could hear the shuffle of movement as Anon moved in. There came the soft hiss of material folding back and then, the feel of hesitant lips lingering against his. The ISO carefully raised a hand, touching Anon's cheek. God, his skin was smooth, and as he thread fingers up his face, he could feel silky hair.

Anon closed the space between them, lips against lips. It was a simple caress, harmless. Gibson knew he had to guide him in this field, too. He opened his mouth, hand sliding down to thumb the corner of the soft mouth. Mimicking what he saw, Anon's mouth opened, too, slowly. The ISO kissed him, really kissed him, and it took a moment for the Program to catch up.

When Gibson attempted to sneak his tongue inside, Anon bit it. "Yow!" Gibson shouted, eyes flying open.

Anon snarled, whipping his head back.

Gibson saw brunet hair, trim and slicked back, and was reminded of someone--no, okay, Gibson closed his eyes again. "Okay, they're shut, they're shut," he sighed. It took a few seconds before Anon's lips were on his again. Gibson inched back, said, "Tongue is good, okay? I'm sorry for surprising you, but... Don't bite. Just... let me show you."

“Hmm...”

Gibson gently pressed his tongue between Anon's lips. The inside of Anon's mouth was warm, tasting something bittersweet. His tongue was tucked away, but not for long. It took a little nudging before Anon reciprocated. The kiss was terribly sloppy, clumsy, foreheads bouncing against one another, but it was good enough, it was beautiful in its awkwardness.

The Program was the first to break away. Gibson listened to data shuffle. When he cracked his eyes open, he saw his pale face in Anon's helmet again.

The ISO chuckled and sat back, propped up on his elbows. "Not too shabby, kid. Not too shabby."

Anon looked down. There was something burning inside him, deep in his chest. When he raised his head again, looked at Gibson's smug, sleepy face, that heat intensified. Anxiety started mounting, and suddenly he felt dizzy.

"What's wrong?"

Anon shook his head slowly.

Whatever he was feeling, whatever this intense emotion meant, Anon did not know nor fully comprehend. Maybe it was only fleeting, maybe it meant something more, Either way, it was okay. This was okay. Because whatever this was, it told him to stay with Gibson, to trust Gibson, and so he would.