Triad (Digimon Tamers OC fic) - Chapter 2

Well, here it is, finally. Over a year since uploading the first part, I finally decided enough was enough. I think about this story much of my time, and it's been driving me crazy that THIS smut scene was the ONLY thing stopping me from getting on with it. So.... here it is.

Before getting into it, just in case, here are the disclaimers copypasted from the first part:

- I do NOT own anything of the Digimon franchise, and none of the characters in it, and I make NO money at all from this.
- This story is all OCs. No canon tamers appear in this at all, and it's an entirely new story.
- This story is full of graphic sexual content. If you do not wish to read that sort of thing, do not read this story.
- The core format of this story is of Tamers, with egg hatching and the Digivolution lines adhering to the format of the MMORPG Digimon Masters Online. The history and lore of the Digital World adheres mostly to that in Adventure, including the synchronising of time passing.


Scott Kadinsky frowned. Although his task was nearly complete, it could have been easier for him. He leaned further over the machine, shirt working its way loose from trousers, his bare belly sliding over the photocopier, stretching as far as his body would allow, onto the tips of his toes. He entered the dusty realm behind the copiers, reaching for the core, the lair of stray cables and plugs on the floor.

“That’s the one…” he whispered to himself.

He plucked one cable in particular from its lair with two fingers and caught it in his hand, replacing it with care to its port in the back of the machine. Scott smiled, slid off the photocopier, and tucked his shirt back in as he did. He brushed the dust from his hands as he made his brisk, stiff way back across the office, where another young man sat by his work station, looking up expectantly at the technician.

“It should work now,” Scott said. “Here-“

The technician commandeered the computer, working his own brand of magic.

“There you go,” he said finally, his voice devoid of tone. “If you have any more problems, call me again.”

Scott left without another word, out of the office, into the elevator. He sighed, leaning back against the mirrored walls.

“About time to go,” he affirmed, after a brief check of his smartphone.

The elevator whined, and Scott’s stomach lurched and bounced as it shuddered to a halt on the first floor, and Scott made his way back to his own office. It was an unusually small room, thankfully kept all to himself, in which everything had its place. Some months back, Scott’s superiors had threatened to move a second employee into his office, but the storm born of this suggestion meant that Scott would be staying alone down there. He was, aside from this storm, one of the firm’s favourite employees, and although no one had said so officially, they would do whatever was in their power to keep him.

He swept up his small backpack, cramming in a cluttered hardback folder before zipping it shut, picking up the Oyster card on his desk and leaving the building. This wasn’t such a cold evening, Scott noticed, as he began the stiff, daily walk back to the Tube station.

Scott was born under the name Scotland. He insisted on being addressed by this name during his childhood years, defiantly, fruitlessly, though as a teen he gave in to the abbreviation, and as an adult, he became comfortable with Scott. He was a man of twenty-three, but looked much younger. His face and body always had been a good few years behind his true age.

All his life, Scott had never cared for people. Why should he? What could another do for him that he couldn’t do for himself? He only tolerated his colleagues until he could get back home, back to his programming. That job was only a temporary chapter in his life until he finished at college, and after that, he would make for very distant lands.

Yes, that’s where Scott’s life lay. Computers were what he lived for. They were the easiest thing to control if one knew how. A computer would never do anything one did not ask of it – unlike living beings. People were unpredictable, not worthy of trust. One could never tell what they would do next. But a computer... would merely run whatever program one commanded, until it would finaly wear out – which should be some way in the future, providing one took care of their machine. And Scott loved his systems enough to more than provide this care. And gods, did he love programming.

He was on the Tube now, careful to put a place between himself and anyone else. He stared blankly, straight ahead, thinking. Once again, trying to make sense of that night. When his computer consumed him. And he entered its world.


Scott remembered every line in his script late that night, but still, he couldn’t grasp what he’d done wrong. He’d just updated the software, it had to be ruled down to this. He was testing a beta version, so it could’ve been that. Most possibly a bug - to this very day, this was the only explanation he could even loosely rely upon. The problems began small and inconspicuous, and could not be ignored at their climax - the computer which had previously powered along as fast as the day it was first booted up, was now slowly grinding to a halt, commands taking long, agonising minutes to register. New programs refused to open. Eventually, select hardware components would not register at all.

Then Scott thought he saw a spark. Annoyed that his partner of only two years was failing, he stood up from his desk with the intention of making himself more coffee, knowing he’d have to take his machine apart and fix it. Frustration swelled in Scott’s chest as he knew his programming would be delayed by hours by this. His only consolation was that he’d backed up his work only one hour ago - being as organised as he was, paid off. But as he turned to leave his study, the corner of Scott’s eye caught the cool glow of a blue screen reflecting against the living room wall. He rushed back over to read, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of these messages. They were completely illogical. Alien.

“This is definitely broken”, he said to himself in his usual atonal voice.


Frustration gave way to rage as Scott realised his machine was falling apart in front of him. He stomped hard on the carpet beneath him. He could wipe it clean, reinstall the operating system, but he doubted that would make a difference. It was more likely he’d be buying a new computer tomorrow, and he just didn’t have the money for that this month. Not with college.

And then the world went black. Scott felt his whole body crumble into a microscopic speck, and then he passed out from the pressure. Time passed – though he was unconscious, he was still aware that this much time had passed – and hours later, he awoke.

Scott’s first thought, was that he was hallucinating. He didn’t know why, but that was the most logical explanation to come to mind. He found himself in a vast, yellow meadow, as far as the eye could see, on one side overlooking a sparkling ocean, with the evening sun still blazing overhead. Yellow petals, seeds and blades of grass danced around in the light, swirling breeze, as though marionettes, manipulated by a more intelligent power. It was so hot – far hotter than it ever got in London.

Some asshole at work must’ve slipped something in his coffee - there was no other explanation right now. And this must be part of the drug trip, Scott thought. So he loosened his dressing gown and slipped it past his shoulders, revealing a set of pale blue satin pyjamas. It wasn’t an uncomfortable temperature, as that gentle breeze he was imagining, that rippled through the grass around him and tickled his toes, was keeping him pleasantly cool.

He was neither scared of this place, nor curious to explore it. That could be dangerous – gods only knew where in the real world he would end up. He would lie here, and wait until his trip ended. So he waited. He lay in the shade, in an alcove of a gigantic tree rooted nearby. He let his mind wander in many directions, mostly thinking of programming, eyes closed against the still oppressive glare of the sun.

But even hours later, things were no different. He was still in this place. Even its sun had set! So… if this wasn’t a hallucination, then what was this place? And how did he get here?

“Hang on…” Scott thought aloud. “I saw a spark come out of my monitor. Maybe something… went wrong? Maybe… an accident?”

Yes, he thought to himself. He might not remember if there was a violent outburst from his machine. And it was certainly an unusual, indescribable sensation when he... passed over. The logic being that if he had died, then this must be the next world. The afterlife. Atheist through and through, Scott always looked down his nose at anyone who believed in this place, but it seemed the most likely explanation now, and now... he must approach the idea of an afterlife with an open mind. And if that was the case, then he must explore.


Scott emerged at his home Tube station. The air had grown colder and colder as the evening progressed, but it was a short walk home from here. Then he would be back with the only things that mattered to him.

He turned the key in the door, and pushed it open, greeted by darkness. Scott’s first thought was to take a bath, as he made his way to the living room, cast down his backpack, and then slung his jacket over the nearest chair. A bath would be nice, he could gather his thoughts for his project. He’d been thinking about his project at home all day. It was the only thing he really thought about any more, sometimes forgetting to eat and sleep as he worked on it. So he entered the bathroom, struck a match and lit every candle surrounding the tub. The light scent of vanilla and coconut filled the room. Scott turned on the taps, refining until the temperature was just right, then he stripped as the bathtub filled.

Scott dipped a toe in, then, satisfied with the temperature, sank his sinfully slim, hairless body into the tub, letting out a contented sigh.

Yes, his project. Scott’s big calling – his destiny. He hadn’t been able to devote as much time to it as he would have liked, with his job and college being equally demanding, and that mere thought caused Scott pain. The longer the project was delayed, the longer the suffering would continue.

A tentative knock at the bathroom door, and Scott’s eyes opened slowly.

“Scott?” came a powerful, yet gentle voice.

The young man turned, his spirits lifting as the door opened to the sight of his partner Digimon.

“Angemon…” he said. “I didn’t know you were home.”

The angel entered the room, his natural beauty and grace casting a glow around the only gently-lit room. “I was asleep. You should’ve woken me up.”

“I thought you’d gone back to the Digital World.”

Angemon shook his armoured head. “I’m not expected in the Digital World for almost a month.”

“You still should go back if I’m gone. Better that than being alone here.”

Angemon knelt down on both knees next to the bathtub. He gazed with an adoring expression, smiling. “Then I would miss your return, wouldn’t I?”

These words left Scott with a warm feeling in his core, but Angemon would never know this - a plank of wood had more expressions than Scott’s face had ever had. The Tamer decided to resume his wash, and reached for the soap.

Angemon reached out, and gently caught the extending, dripping hand in his own. The warm, slimy sensation of a soaked glove greeted him instantly. “Wait, Scott…” he said gently.

Scott turned his head slowly to the left. That put a smile on his face, finally, even if it was only for a moment, as Angemon grazed his other palm over Scott’s pockmarked, acne scarred cheek, and kissed him slowly. Scott’s belly lit up in hot flames, and he wrapped dripping arms around his partner’s neck, surrendering to the kindness.

Scott didn’t just look forward to coming home for his project. No, this Digimon had stolen his heart some months ago. At first, Angemon had vowed to be his protector against harm, a pacifist, his guardian angel, but the closer the two became, the more Angemon wanted.

Scott had never bonded with human beings. There was nothing in that realm for him, nothing that interested him, but a Digimon… they were made of data, and he knew data better than his own self. There was nothing to fear from a Digimon, they could be controlled just as easily as any program he mastered on any computer. This allowed him to ever entertain the notion of bonding with Digimon.

Angemon broke the embrace, and made to stand once more.

“Where are you-“ Scott began.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Angemon reassured his Tamer. “I’m getting in.”

Scott giggled now, he couldn’t help himself. Angemon really was too good to him. The angel first knelt down, working the laces of his boots, before kicking them off. He removed the rest of his clothing in quick succession, letting the precious white garments fall around his bare feet, and stepping out, naked now with the exception of the helmet, which almost never came off. As his six wings flexed, a single pure, brilliant white feather drifted to the floor, landing some way away from the pair.

Angemon stepped into the bathtub now, careful to not tread on his lover, and finally rested with knees outside, either side, of Scott’s own, knelt over the human. He was grinning widely, hungrily. Scott’s attention turned to the eight inches between Angemon’s thighs, entirely ready, leaking in anticipation of what was to come.

Scott began to graze the palms of his hands up Angemon’s muscular thighs, leaning forward. As his palms gained distance, fingers joined them, and groped gently as their journey ended at the crook of the hips. Scott invited himself in, running his tongue, lightly as can be, up the generous, throbbing shaft, consuming the head as he reached it. His tongue lashed, first slowly, gently, gaining speed gradually as Angemon’s muscles tensed, and his breath became deeper. His head bowed, forehead coming to rest on Scott’s as he panted, the tips of golden blond hair submerged in the water.

Angemon lowered his hips further into the water, no longer kneeling, but sat at an awkward angle over his tamer, noticing that Scott, too, was entirely ready for what was to come. At this angle, Scott couldn’t continue.

“Your turn,” Angemon said with a smirk.

Angemon submerged his own face under the warm water now, darkened hair bleeding in all directions, and the tip of his tongue met Scott’s hard shaft. Scott gasped, and his upper body stiffened. The five inches were no challenge at all to the angel, it was only a matter of time and deliberate building of tension before his lips met Scott’s body and his entire shaft was consumed. The human finally allowed himself to sink backwards, the nape of his neck meeting the cold lip of the bathtub, the lip of the bathtub meeting the hot sweat on the nape of Scott’s neck. This was all Angemon wanted. He wanted Scott to have a good time.

Mere minutes passed before Scott’s upper body jerked upwards suddenly, eyes wide open. Angemon paused at his work, glancing upwards curiously. He should’ve been at least close by now, they’d been here so many times. The duo knew each other, intimately, better than they knew themselves some days.

“Are you okay, Scott?”

The tamer nodded slowly. His head was swimming, his thoughts were numbed and he was on the very edge of release. Everything was perfect... His lover was perfect, everything he did was perfect. Scott was on cloud nine, he really was... But a feeling of guilt had been creeping over him, and as time went on, it was impossible to feel satisfied, the way things were.

“I’m fine,” Scott reassured bluntly. “I just wish it didn’t have to just be me.”

Angemon knelt in silence for a while, his attention focused on the pounding of the organ in his mouth. Eventually, he dragged his lips, painstakingly slowly, up Scott’s throbbing shaft, his tamer shuddering with every miniscule movement. He gasped ever so quietly as the head was finally released from the warmth and pressure.

Angemon would much rather see his lover pleased, but... There would be plenty of time to please him in the future. He had no plans to be anywhere else any time soon.

“If that would make you happiest,” Angemon concluded.

As much as he loved to please Scott, there was no denying his own aching lust, and he wanted far more than he had received so far. He wanted more of Scott than he’d had tonight. He raised his head finally, just as the hint of a cramp had built in his neck and back, and found that his hands had made their way to Scott’s backside without him noticing. Fortunate, he thought, as he lifted the young man’s lower body with the ease of lifting the lid from a chest, and hoisted his legs over the angel’s hips. They were both in a better position now.

With one hand, Angemon stroked Scott’s cheek again, fingers finding, winding their way into short, bleached blond hair, and dived in hungrily to kiss him again, and as he did, forced the tip of his pounding cock, tenderly, into Scott’s passage. The human gritted his teeth through the kiss, keeping his body still as he always did, getting ready to ride out the hardest part.

Angemon began slow, he always did, thrusting ever so gently until more than half of his length was inside. As his tongue worked against Scott’s, he was sure to keep a careful eye on his lover lest anything look wrong on his end. But it was perfect, and Angemon was so in love with his human. He pulled Scott into a tight embrace, chest meeting chest as he rocked further and further into him, feeling like he would never let go. Nothing would keep them apart.

Scott had been moaning for quite some time, stifled against the embrace of his lover’s lips and the dance of their tongues. Angemon was being driven crazy by his lover’s sounds, picking up the pace for him. He felt his human’s hands resting on his bare back, fingernails digging in but only tickling - most things which caused pain for a human, were but a tickle for a Digimon of his tier. He was buried completely inside Scott now, and he could feel his own climax building down below, there was no way he would last much longer.

Scott, with his eyes closed, felt the delicate tickling of three pairs of wings wrap themselves around his back, now-lukewarm water trickling down his back as Angemon hugged him closer every way he possibly could. He rocked his hips forward into Angemon’s rough, frantic movements, craving every thrust, needing each one as fast as they came, but it was over all too soon as Angemon growled deeply, breath catching in his chest as he finally came, breath ragged, thrusts now slower, more regular, until they slowed to a complete stop.

The digimon finally broke the kiss, still breathing deeply. He glanced down at Scott’s erection, still pounding. His work wasn’t done yet.

“This isn’t over...” he said to him.

Still buried to the hilt in his tamer, Angemon lowered his head once more and resumed his previous role, tongue lashing, lips sucking as Scott was ready to burst. A stifled groan, and Scott came almost instantly. Angemon happily swallowed everything, licking the shaft clean as he finished, and finally slid himself out of his tamer.

The pair smiled at each other - well, Scott seemed more like he was smiling at a friend sat with him in a café... and an awkward silence fell upon them. Angemon reached behind him, careful of the minefield of dying candles around him, for the neglected soap, and lathered up his hands to wash. He handed the soap to Scott, and the pair washed, quickly, in silence until Angemon, who felt relatively clean anyway, finished and stood up. He stepped out of the tub and wrapped the largest towel he could find, around his waist, brushing long, sodden hair behind his shoulders. Scott continued to wash, after a long day at work, and two Tube rides, he didn’t feel quite so clean.

“Don’t wait for me, I’m gonna be a while longer,” Scott said to Angemon.

His partner nodded. “I’ll make us some coffee.”

“Thanks Angemon.”

The Champion leaned against the door frame, gazing lovingly at his tamer, watching him cover his scarred back in that green lather for a little while longer before leaving him alone. He’d make them both some nice coffee, hopefully that would help Scott with his project.

Angemon found himself lamenting, more and more, how much time Scott spent, every evening on his project. Neglecting everything else, neglecting his relationship. He wouldn’t deny this was how he felt. Scott was working long into the night more and more, he was developing shadows under his eyes from a lack of sleep, and it seemed like there was nothing Angemon could do to help. The only thing that would bring his human back to him, would be if he finished the project.

Angemon didn’t care about the suffering, he thought, as he filled the kettle and returned it to its stand. He let out a deep sigh. Not any more. He just wanted to see an end to that project for Scott’s sake.
Changed my username from AlexxxLupo, don't be afraid!