tanks4thememory: (Energy Spring)
Who: Clu1 and Clu 2 (a_perfect_end)
Where: Their User world abode and possibly other places
When: Some undetermined time post Legacy and after this thread
What: ABO sexytimes and maybe other things; a Clu on Clu catchall
Warnings: VERY NSFW. Multiple kinks, ABO related warnings, sorta incest depending how you view programs from the same User, basically enter at your own risk if you're not into that sort of thing

The life and times- and sexytimes of Clus One and Two in the ABO universe, collected here for the sake of convenience and avoiding page clutter. Multiple scenarios, lots of fun. Mostly of the NSFW variety.

◾ Tags:
Date/Time: 2020-12-20 01:23 (UTC)Posted by: [personal profile] a_perfect_end
a_perfect_end: head in the clouds (low whistle)
Clu sucked in a breath, nails curled sharp into his palms in search of control. Anticipation had his skin humming. Every hair on the back of his neck had prickled vertical for the absence of that light touch, almost as much as for having it. He didn't know where it would come from, or if it was coming back, or how close by his code-brother actually was.

Within arms' reach was not a useful estimate in this position.

He couldn't see, but Master could, and so Clu looked down, made himself smaller to acknowledge that displeasure without trying to guess the source.

None of these people actually existed, but the game was on. Probably, Lucillus was a shitheel, or a cheat, or played too rough with his things. From the sound of it, it could have ended with him face-up in a gutter. Clu decided he'd be grateful indeed for a tip like that. Though he would--just barely--manage to keep it to himself for now.

He was almost ready to open his mouth, to press after what Master meant by that sort of trouble, when the feather struck again.

Clu jumped for the sudden gentle flutter against his leg, nothing contrived or even voluntary about the jerk of his wrists against the cuffs. His bonds and the slither of the unheld leash set off a soft musical clash of jewelry halfway down his body. Everything was connected. Almost everything.

"Ah!" He stilled, carefully, with only the least little hiss. Allowing himself a hopeful grin, just a flicker, carefully smoothed away again. "Very good, Master. I know a trick with mussels he might like."

It was difficult to think. Solder a board! How did he fight soft touches? And what was the question?

"I--They are always the same, Master. Every 93 days. It is, day, seventy," so slowly, dragging the integer through his teeth, "s-seven."

Literal truth was easier. It also showed that his handlers knew what they were doing, and had wrapped him up with a bow.

"They--" The stroke up his thigh had him trembling, but he didn't shrink away, instead bracing his legs just a bit wider, trying to lighten the pressure while offering. "Sir, I--"

Oh. Master, or Alpha. Might he let that slide, in his quest for the truth? Clu did squirm, then.

"Master," chagrined, deferential in self-correction, "they most often leave me with devices." Because there was no world in which betas would arrange their schedule around his needs. "But, also--"

(It was too good to let go of, and he twitched in his harness for being petted.)

"I am the close friend of six other dealers known to you, who consider my heat theirs for the upkeep." Not the horror show it could be. Still precarious--for one thing, if they snapped him by playing too hard, there was always another ready and waiting. And if he fouled this up, he'd be right back in their hands. "Their medical certificates should be available to you. And if you are, asking, what it's like--"

Of course he wasn't. Not strictly. But the idea of it, the concept of focused helplessness--that might hold some interest. Clu forged ahead, gone quiet and smoky with hunger.

"How it feels to be buried in hands eager for every inch of you? To have so much company you can't have air? And still to need, to crave like water, something they can't possibly give you."

"Please, Master," he shivered forward into the touch, "teach me what you enjoy. I can't wait to learn."
Date/Time: 2020-12-27 04:54 (UTC)Posted by: [personal profile] a_perfect_end
a_perfect_end: ~ (~)
Another time it might be fun to sit together and fill in the lines more thoroughly: work out what Lucillus had done, or what he was doing, that made him so awful. Explore just what Julia would have taught Clu. But these characters served their purposes for now: he made Clu grateful to have come into his present luck, with the sense he'd just squeaked past disaster, and she made him pliant and curious, but careful.

It made a good base to play from, and one that was gathering to an urgent and intense interest in his new circumstances. This was, of course, helped along by every delicate brush of sensation. Clu had no way of knowing where the next one was coming from, or when, and it shortened his breath, put a delicious shiver in him that wouldn't quite quit. Just listening to his alpha's words, focusing on and responding to his questions in a way that best fit their game, took up a share of his control.

Never mind the rest of it, not least the sharp-soft pulse of want where he was trying to rise to the occasion and just--couldn't, curled down into a snug curve by the steady pressure of the cage. It was almost like his code-brother had him firmly in hand. Certainly he had him at his mercy. It felt so good already, and he had so far to go.

Clu took a quick sharp breath and let that low note of approval wash down his spine. He focused on opening his hands--when had he clenched them?--in a bid to steady himself.

His code-brother granted their little game was diverting, warm delight on his tongue like he'd taken a sip of something good.

And Master had a question for him. The soft slither of metal was Clu's only cue that something else had changed, that his alpha must be standing in front of him. And the touches--Clu really did almost dance for him, then, a soft gasp pulled out of him on feather tips.

"I--!" Oh, oh, what would work here; he swallowed heavily, working to slow his breathing. Right now, he didn't have to imagine feeling empty, wet slit cooled to a tingle against the leather even as the sleeve in front tightened its grip.

"Oh, Master, I--" Nothing play-acted about the ache in his voice, "just, ah, just over a year."

Roughly four heats then, or five, if Master decided he should wait this one out. Not so long it was dangerous, but more than enough to drive him appreciative and starving into beta hands and keep him there. Definitely enough to make him eager for the chance at more. Ready not just to submit to anything, not just to accept however he was handled, but also eager to prove himself to his newest Master.

Who wanted to know if he had ever been used, in this system, for the purposes it asked of him.

Who wanted to know if he'd ever been bred.

The nubs of his confinement jabbed at him a little for that and he curled his toes tight in the carpet with a soft, urgent noise. An answer was expected.

"No. Mistress didn't want that part of me," he shook his head, lowered it, "but also forbade it to anyone else."

And his last house had gone the way of poor church mice. Which left one option. Clu opened his hands by sheer force of will, palms flat, beseeching.

"If you wish, Master, that's yours to do."
Date/Time: 2020-12-31 23:20 (UTC)Posted by: [personal profile] a_perfect_end
a_perfect_end: The players tried for a forward pass. (Default)
It was a good thing make whatever noises you like was right there in the rules, because he couldn't really hold them in anymore, from the focused whimper for being questioned to the way that his breathing had deepened, harsh and quick for such pretty promises, to a low hum for this newest possibility. How it would be, to be full with pups, flush and heavy, grown round with it? He'd be plush and sore all over, and soft with flesh trying to feed them--though they'd need a nurse for that; even omega biology had limits.

Out there? Couldn't have them. Shouldn't want them. Pretty sure he was morally obligated not to.

In here? Behind the gentle dark of the blindfold, nestled deep in the layers of their game?

Clu let out a soft whine, shifting his weight in a soft rattle of metal because he was ready to pass out just for the idea. He could feel the way that stroke rippled up every muscle in his middle from hips to chest, pooling heat in his navel and making his skin dance with the shiver of it. That had to be visible.

"Please," half entreaty. "Oh, Master, I--my maker had only sons. I should be the s-same."

Out of turn, but useful still, especially if Master were succession-minded.

Clu squirmed, pushed a harsh breath out, nodded frantically under the blindfold for every delicate, teasing suggestion his alpha made. He jumped in his cage for tiny soft touches and let out an entirely pent-up moan for the delicious, awful, slow drag of the feather, for the way it chased thwarted pleasure and hot fresh want sharp into the hollow down behind his middle.

For the first time Clu clutched at his bonds, trying to reach down that comically short lead with clawed fingers, straining to get loose and finding he couldn't. He could, of course--emergency releases existed for a reason--but that would end the game, full stop, and pack up everything they'd planned.

And he didn't nearly want free so much as he did to struggle, just enough to adapt. To overcome. To embrace his new circumstances--their new circumstances. Together.

(Just where was alpha? So much input, and not near enough data to tell Clu where it was coming from--)

He held still. He just barely held still.

He only held still for all values of still that did not include the leap of his throat, a bright hard cry of total want, or the tremor that had started deep in the muscle at the junction of his thighs.

"Hah!" Heat or not, game or not, his whole body was ready to give alpha anything he wanted to have. Clu was entirely on board with that. "Yes, Master."
Date/Time: 2021-01-01 18:08 (UTC)Posted by: [personal profile] a_perfect_end
a_perfect_end: head in the clouds (low whistle)
He was quite literally pulled up short for that, one single tug, quick and firm on his lead. Surprise stilled him almost as much as the movement itself--and a shocked frisson of something else, just the ghost of not now, Clu.

The cadence was the same. He was well in hand, indeed.

It shot right down the mains, all his blood pounding southward even as he bowed his head. (Master told him to be quiet, and so would want action for an answer.)

He tried to stand very still for the sure, soft motion of deft questing fingers, so gentle, slid just over the core of him without dipping further inside.

This was not helped at all by a small, soft, wet noise he could barely hear; he could only guess as to the source, and his imagination was already running wild.

"Yes, Master," warmly, not having to work at all to sound as wanton as he felt. A little arch. Master did just ask him a question. Clu was just testing the test.

There was more test.

Clu shut his mouth.

The ball bag had worked a bit like a blindfold of its own, an anchoring patch of less-sensation between tickled hot spots. Until now. Even turned off, the added weight pulled a little, reminded him just how tightly he was wrapped. He bit down on a hiss of anticipation and widened his stance to try and ease the pressure.

Of course, this opened him up even more to alpha's touch--and alpha was giving him something, the firm and slightly grainy texture of silicone passed rhythmically across his slit. Clu squirmed into the touch, grateful for contact even on an angle just a little too high, and swallowing a whimper for the sudden loss of it.

Clu gasped to feel that hard weight pressed up behind him, into him. It slid neatly home, and that burned his whole face, scorched his cheeks with fascinated embarrassment: he was so ready that with a little help from alpha, he could prep himself.

Almost. There was real drag to it, a slight catch even in prepared, eager flesh. That wasn't going to fit. That wouldn't--oh.

It fit.

It fit, and it fit into its harness loop with a soft pop that tugged at him, hands scrabbling useless in his traces a second as he struggled to adjust. He wasn't hurt, just--very full. It was definitely there, and it would not be easy to ignore.

Another shiver climbed his spine and settled heavily in his stomach, prodding down his hooded cock: they weren't done. Clu let out a groan for it, a hard heavy note of pleasure, and closed down hungrily on the last of his alpha's offered toys.

He subsided to a soft, grateful hum for being all full, a thing they'd only tried with tongues and fingers until now. This was...more, and they were just getting started.

Clu clenched down on the dildo, the thing he had most control of, and listened thoroughly. They were simple instructions. Reasonable, even, on the surface. They'd played with permission before. Clu enjoyed it, both the way his code-brother reveled in having it and the way it stretched his own pleasure into something ecstatic.

But to play it here, as a slave, as an ornament hobbled, caged, and arranged to suit his Master's pleasure?

A thrill clenched in his guts, chased with hot, harsh determination.

"Master!" Sharp, hungry, solicitous. "Yes, I understand. I'll, do my best."

He wanted to see what his limits were, too.
Date/Time: 2021-01-08 04:42 (UTC)Posted by: [personal profile] a_perfect_end
a_perfect_end: want the world (pointer)
His code-brother finished his instructions with a rumble, with a little lick of praise that glowed in Clu's skin. He grinned, sharp, and hid it just as fast--he was feeling good, but a slave would be wary, and quick to look humbled after even a minor infraction.

The bullet vibe sat heavily, kept pressure on the juncture where he entered the hood, a ridge of texture right at the bottleneck that dragged some blood back from his cock, helped him flag in a way that meant he'd be able to take a little more.

Alpha bid him kneel, lust leaching into his words, and Clu had to wipe the smirk off his face: it sounded like Master was having fun, too.

Clu almost answered back when the test started. Yes, Master was ready on his tongue--and then it dawned on him, through the gauze of growing pleasure, that it wasn't a question. Then he really smiled, tiny and sharp, and nodded instead with a hum.

Kneeling square wasn't happening--he couldn't reach a tabletop position on his own in the harness without reconfiguring it, and he'd agreed not to take it off unless they called the game: fire for red, or without prompting for an immediate emergency, which would also stop play.

No way. Not when it was getting good. If alpha wanted him all the way down there, flat on his face like a beggar, he'd just have to push him that way.

Instead Clu sat on his haunches, perched upward, too thoroughly occupied to rest his butt on his heels. It kept a slight arch in his lower back, poking in a way that made him sit forward, an open, inviting display that was part necessity.

Clu tried to listen, head tilted like it would help, hands resting flat on his own chest.

Alpha growled his pleasure, a hot, low tone he couldn't quite hold back anymore, and Clu twinged sharp in his hood. He could hear the rustling of his code-brother fishing around in the box, but it was distant under the spreading glorious ache. He pulled in a few deep, even breaths: it helped with the all-through pressure and spread the welcome current of satisfaction, the root pleasure of lacking nothing, all the way full. Certainly he was being indulged.

It felt--was safe even the right word--a deep, total comfort that had everything and nothing to do with the actual physical sensations.

Then his alpha flicked a switch, and all Clu's newfound calm slid off into a high, surprised sound held in by bitten lips.

That was different. All the way different. Kind of like getting licked, or just barely nibbled, or the gentle steady tap of fingernails; the same tingle he normally felt from the inside out being turned inward, instead, input faintly mechanical and constant as rain.

That was good. Oh, that was good. Master hadn't forbidden it, so Clu wiggled a little, gave the feeling somewhere to go other than down the aching tip of his cock.

Then his alpha turned on the butt plug.

Clu let out a yelp. He practically bounced, with a short, hard, guttural noise of pure lust, trying to get away and only succeeding in driving it further in. He wasn't hurt--he was too wet for that. Everything was very slick, moved way too easily, and felt way too good.

Master wouldn't want him blown on their first try. He moaned for it, trying to think.

Another unbidden whine escaped as he curled forward, a deliberate driving snap of his hips that rebounded amazingly, pulled out a sharp, shocked little cry. It poked, inside, nudged hard against some inner node that spangled light hot against the back of the blindfold. He gritted his teeth, feeling it slide down again, still humming away, rubbing into the delicate flesh separating it from the soft ridge of the toy trapped in between.

His cock tried to do something it could not do, and that was the strangest, most urgent sensation he'd ever experienced.

He managed to press his buzzing balls forward on his thighs, squeezing his legs together behind himself--more out of a driving need to get everything apart a bit, seeking a way to react to one thing at a time. The posture dragged his caged cock up and out, displayed without really being prompted.

"Ah!" Sounds were still on the menu, and he gave them forthright voice. "Hah!"

He shuddered. They still had so far to go.
Date/Time: 2021-01-11 00:55 (UTC)Posted by: [personal profile] a_perfect_end
a_perfect_end: boy this desk is interesting NOPE (en to ex)
It took him a few tries, rhythmic bobbing that left him almost panting for breath, one long throb of want all down his harness, but he got himself spread enough to better take the strain. Sure. So what if alpha was humoring him a little? He had a moment; he could do this.

The cage shivered to life around him, and Clu jumped in place with a yelp.

"Hah!"

It was closing down on him, or he was pushing up on it: his cock wanted out and could not get there, the nubs rolling against him until every beat of his own blood was like a separate touch. It was the fine sharp drag of fingernails that wouldn't press down, wouldn't hurt him, but also absolutely were not letting him up all the way.

It was so tight.

"Ah," dragging in air only to try it again, pure frustrated hunger, "aaah!"

His head rolled back, throat jumping under the leash as he shifted restlessly. There was nothing to follow, no way to keep count or really anticipate what was coming, just always more. Pleasure looped up his spine, down, back and forth, nowhere to go that something wasn't thrumming through or against him. And he couldn't quite grind down on it like he wanted, like he needed, hips driving for that last inch of pressure almost by instinct. If he bore down, even just a little, it was game over.

Then alpha snapped the last switch.

"Oh," low, rough, like it was knocked out of him. He panted, mouth open, unable to make another sound until something wavered free from down deep, and that something sounded suspiciously like

"Oh, shit."
Edited (our answers must be in the form of a question, yes? w h o o p s :D ) Date/Time: 2021-01-11 00:56 (UTC)
Date/Time: 2021-01-16 05:30 (UTC)Posted by: [personal profile] a_perfect_end
a_perfect_end: The players tried for a forward pass. (Default)
He was holding on so tightly that he almost didn't realize he'd made words, until he did. He whimpered, hands flown up over his mouth, not quite biting his own fingers in a frantic, roughshod hunt for control. He was moaning too hard to keep them there, nudging his fingers open again with the effort of it--to stop calling out, or to start--he wasn't sure which, only that he felt everything, so much, so good, and it was all he could do to keep any more words from leaping free of his tongue.

Of course, Master had no such restrictions, his alpha who knew, now, exactly how much Clu loved to hear from him. Who had seen and heard what this newest wrinkle in their little game was doing to him. Who could tell that caught was looping tight in his blood and still was gently nudging Clu through his paces.

Who was free to express himself however he chose, as alpha, as lord of the house, who knew his way through these things and knew better than Clu might himself everything a hungry servant starved of contact could long for.

Certainly, the thin healing scar tucked just under his collar prickled and burned for the idea, for how much he might want that chance. To give himself away, utterly, to one who would care for him in return--who might even exalt him to freedom.

Who might keep him, if they were mated.

"Ah!" Sharp, leaping off somewhere bright. "Oh, Master, please--" not quite right, not quite enough, even as he carved the title into lavish praise with his tongue, "aanh, Alpha, may I come?"
Date/Time: 2021-02-04 03:58 (UTC)Posted by: [personal profile] a_perfect_end
a_perfect_end: The players tried for a forward pass. (Default)
You can take a little more yet.

Easier, to focus on the bowstring ache, the fire in his neck where they were joined. (Oh, let the stupid magazines be right for once: he wanted to wear always the outline of his alpha's teeth.)

Clu shuddered, swaying, trying to wait out the sheer quantity of stimulation blooming hot across his whole lower body. The last of his pride fought not to let him be undone, not yet. His balls shivered snug under the onslaught, pulling tight against the counterweight of the sleeve and the treacherous, wonderful hum beneath. His trapped cock convulsed, stroked gentle and unbearable by the soft inward points of the nubs, and for a moment the back of the blindfold, the edge of the world, was a blank white wall.

Then his code-brother turned it up, still murmuring to him in a voice of smoke and velvet, honeyed words laced with promise, edged with the threat of wait and the order of not yet.

He groaned, low and shaking, thrummed with frustrated bliss. He pulled against the cuffs in earnest, struggling upright to the soft rattle of the leash, back arched awkwardly for the delicious electricity of sensation still slamming home inside him. He could feel where he was slipping, where it wouldn't matter how prettily he asked, where slick was starting to overflow, precum prodding the edge of his bonds.

Clu let out a wail of sheer, ecstatic pleasure, lost. The air came back to him in harsh, tiny gasps that wanted to be laughter, that just might have been a sob.

"Please." He had been so careful about asking, spine straight, and now he curled low, agonizing, torturous pleasure building to something scalding as he flattened his shoulders as would a slave. "Master. Please."

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