Black Sustenance

Black Sustenance

by Famira Damaris

Disclaimer: Surprise surprise, I don't own Spider-man.

Author Notes:
Basically just did this as a last-minute decision to enter a Spider-man
slash cst. st. I didn't think I'd have enough time to do fanart, so I
did this...and then I find out there was an extension to the contest.
Oops. Anyway, juske..ke...drabblish. Masturbation. Lame title. xP No
it's not canon.



Italics for thoughts/emphasis/symbiote

Archive: Sure, just ask.

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Black Sustenance

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             They were starting to
lust.

      It was a foreign concept to the
symbiote. Eddie Brock was familiar with
it, but it was of the body only. Once he’d longed for deeper things,
more meaningful things, but after the divorce, he’d tried to just bury
himself in his work. And look where that got us. Not far; he’d
gotten screwed over by both the Daily Bugle and by Peter Parker. By
Spider-man.

               The Spider.


        They wanted the Spider. More
than anything else, they wanted him.


     Eddie Brock got to his feet, the springs from
the worn bed squeaking
quietly under his naked body. The derelict apartment wasn’t a
particularly choice place to live, but it served their purposes. He
only stayed here to sleep and otherwise service himself in private,
without unnecessary interruptions. The fact that it was abandoned made
it that much easier. Rain ran in uneven trails down the window,
trickling over the graffiti scratch marks on the glass and out of
sight. Gray light from the street lamps outside pervaded the small
room.

     Both the symbiote and Eddie liked the rain, if
for
different reasons. Rain to the symbiote was an efficient process, one
that it admired as it observed the cycle of its fall. Rain was
self-perpetuating. Self-perpetuating like the symbiote: just as ancient
and just as unrelenting. Rain was also gon thn their skin, cooled them
down when the symbiote exerted itself or when something excited t
Ra
Rain didn’t make marks. Rain was predictable.

      The Spider wasn’t.

    Eddie didn’t understand it. By all rights, he should
hate the Spider -
for destroying his life as Peter Parker and stamping on his grave as
Spider-man. But it was hate spawned by envy. Parker had it all: a job,
a girl, powers that few possessed. True, he also had his own share of
problems, but so did everyone else. Envy made his hate weak. Was part
of the reason why he lusted now.

     “Can’t do it,” Eddie muttered,
staring into the bleak gloom. He’d gotten into a habit of talking to
himself recently; a part of him still needed to hear human voices. “We
can’t kill him.”

           
  
We don’t need to.

          “We don’t like doing
unnecessary things.”

    


     
No, we don’t. We don’t need to kill him. We don’t want to.

            
   “So why…?”

    Eddie
already knew the symbiote’s answer. It was just toying with the Spider.
Feeding off Eddie’s emotions and tying those in with the intimate
understanding it already had of Peter Parker, it found enjoyment in
such antics. But eventually the game would have to end. And if they
wouldn’t – couldn’t – kill the Spider, then…

       “He’ll be ours?”

      
We’ll make him ours. Mark him like he marked us first.

     At
these words, a dull heat burned in Eddie. The symbiote reacted to this
by sending out a black tendril from his naked wrist. He watched in the
window’s reflection as it snaked up to caress his face softly. His eyes
closed as the symbiote continued to touch his cheek. It wasn’t just his
spite talking. Eddie did want to ruin Parker, stain him beyond any
amount of cleansing. They found Parker enthralling, from the way his
mind worked to his extraordinary body. Everything about him was just as
desirable as it was hateful.

        Mark him. They would mark him
completely.

       They were territorial among
other things.

     The symbiote was extending another inky
tendril now, touching other
parts of his body. It serviced him whenever he required it. At first
he’d been hotly embarrassed and used to brush the symbiote away
frantically until he got tired of it and let it do what it wanted. But
now he only leaned against the rain streaked window and spread his legs
expectantly. It was useless to fight it when they needed tension
released. At least until they found a better outlet. No sense in
getting embarrassed about natural needs.

      All that was
expected of him was to think of their desires while he was serviced. At
first it had been everyone but Spider-man. Eddie refused to sully
himself by thinking of him while wanking off. It used to be
images of women, sometimes of his ex-wife, sometimes of just a body of
curves with no face. But those didn’t satisfy enough. So one night he
tried thinking of the Spider. It had worked beautifully, even though
his mental fantasies were violent and ended with the Spider lying in
some alley in a puddle of his own blood.

 


    But that was before they knew the Spider’s death
wasn’t what they ted ted for.

     Eddie’s lips parted to let the symbiote enter
his mouth. It entered him
like a warm tongue as the darkness oozed down toward his
nether-regions. His body buzzed with pleasure and he arched into the
alien’s touch. Eddie kept his eyes closed as the symbiote paused near
his hips and spread his legs for him a bit in preparation even as
another tendril teased his length into hardness.

     
The Spider will be ours. Ours alone.

     And it was only images of Spider-man that
danced across his mental
eyes. He had only to let the symbiote cover him and suddenly they were
no longer the symbiote or Eddie Brock, but Venom, powerful beyond
reckoning, a black, hulking form of muscle with claws, fangs and a
snaking tongue.

    Spider-man was trapped in the dead end of an
alley in this scenario. No distractions. No police.

       Nothing in this
fantasy to come between him and the Spider.

     Spider-man feinted to the
right but Venom followed him to the left as he bounded up the brick
wall with inhuman agility. Venom could feel the fear radiating out from
his prey as Parker led him on a futile chase about the empty city. Fear
from Parker made Venom drunk with adrenaline. His fear was so beautiful
it was a work of art.

    There were no smartass remarks. Venom had
come to learn that the more Parker talked, the more afraid he really
was. But this time there was too much fear and the Spider knew he
wouldn’t be able to escape this time. For a few minutes, Venom pursued
him, crawling up skyscrapers and lunging off into open space after
Spider-man when he leaped off. The free-fall was exhilarating, as was
the jolt as Venom extended his hand and shot a thick strand of web
after pre prey, who was swinging around a corner of another building in
the artificial canyon.

      “Ours, Spider!” Venom bellowed mockingly
after Parker. “Only ours!”

        Parker said nothing. He only
continued to flee.

     It was near Central Park that Spider-man
finally made his mistake. He
moved a second too slow, an inch too far he rhe right. His fired strand
of web sailed through the cold night air without making contact and he
started all.all. And that was when Venom swept in behind him and
crushed him to his chest with one arm. Spider-man squirmed frantically
in his grip as they set down within the enormous park.

     Venom’s chest heaved with excitement as he
bound Spider-man’s hands up
above his head with webbing to a tree trunk. The Spider respo wit with
a kick that would’ve taken off a normal human’s head. The black
Symbiote only gave a low, husky laugh at the dull stinging from his
neck. Pleasure was assaulting him from all corners as he bound
Spider-man’s legs like he had his arms. His prey struggled fitfully. He
froze when he felt Venom’s claws resting on his head.

    “Honestly, Spider. Why do you wear this silly thing?
We already know
what’s behind it,” Venom said, voice scolding. With one smooth motion,
he pulled the mask off. “You can’t fool us.”

    Peter flinched as
the mask slid off and ducked his head away instinctively. This only
merited another laugh as Venom cupped the Spider’s chin in his claws
and forced him to look up. Blue eyes. Innocent blue eyes. If Venom
didn’t know him inside out, he wouldn’t be able to believe that Peter
was marked, that he was even the Spider. Peter always looked younger
without the silly disguise. Younger especially now since from the neck
down, he still wore the skin-tight uniform of Spider-man.

   “One again, Spider,” Venom breathed. His tongue wormed out
between his
fangs and worked its way around Peter’s neck.

    “Let go!” Peter struggled again. He only succeeded
in tiring himself
out and sagged against the webbing that bound him to the tree.

    “Not this time. Not ever. We need you more than
ever.”

    In a distant place outside of this fantasy, Eddie
knew he was coming
close to completion of the servicing; Venom in the vision was giddy
with the pleasure, head throbbing. And for the first time, Venom wanted
the Spider to feel an inkling of what it would feel to be one again,
give him a teasing little taste. It would be brutal – it was always
brutal, no matter how gentle the black Symbiote tried to be – but there
would no blood. No blank blue eyes staring up blindly at him as death
took Peter when Venom finished with him.

     Being one obviously
couldn’t work if what they desired was dead. And besides, while killing
the Spider was a beautiful thing in itself, it was a one-time
occurrence. Maybe if Venom could do it over and over again, each time a
different method, he’d think differently. But union between him and the
Spider was just as good. Better, even.

     Venom continued to tease
Peter with his tongue, with his fangs, and letting his fear flare out
once more until he couldn’t summon the strength to struggle or twist
his head away. Soon he could only pant in exhaustion, head bowed as
Venom raked his claws along the red and blue uniform. It shredded
easily.

       After that, the union was easy.
Far easier than it
had any right to be. Technically, it didn’t require the same kind of
servicing that Eddie enjoyed from time to time, but that didn’t matter.
Might as well make the most of a trussed-up Spider.

      Venom
entered Peter the same way the symbiote entered Eddie. The boy tensed
at the alien intrusion, his whole body straining against his bonds as
Venom ran his claws along his naked skin, hissing, taking care not to
damage him further. Peter tried to back into the tree behind him, close
his legs together but it was easy to push him back into a desirable
position. And as the symbiote began to stretch out and envelop the
trapped Spider, Venom continued to pump into Peter, tongue rolling in
pure, blinding pleasure. Peter was crying out, mouth open but no sound
coming out.

       Even killing Peter over and over
again couldn’t compare with both the
servicing and the union.

       A
brief burst of white in his field of vision blinded him and suddenly
the fantasy ended. Eddie sagged against the window, drained. Images of
Peter straining against him and the black symbiote crawling up to his
neck faded away and were gone before he could recapture them. Pleasure
was still there, but nowhere near the intensity as earlier. As usual,
disappointment washed over him.

      Soon this wasn’t going to be enough.

           
We want the real thing.

     Eddie sat down, leaning against the window
sill. A bit sore still,
tired too. But he wouldn’t even have to wash himself off: it wasn’t
like before, when he’d done all this with his own hands. This was a lot
nr, mr, more intense. But more disappointing too now that he found
himself obsessing over one person. It wasn’t as easy, when he could
just imagine bodies without faces or personalities. In his tunnel
vision, all Eddie could see was the Spider.

         Eddie looked down. Heat was
collecting again and already pooling into the
beginnings of another erection.

     “We need him soon.” The symbiote crept up to
cover him. He watched as
his hands darkened and sprouted black claws.

     
Yes. Soon.
Because soon servicing wouldn’t work, and Eddie would start acting
without a plan. If he wasn’t careful, he might accidentally kill the
very thing they lusted after. The darkness continued to spread until
Eddie no longer sat in the ruined, damp apartment. Venom glanced about
the apartment. Rain was leaking through the cracked roof. Its use as a
shelter was running thin. Soon they would have to find a more suitable
location. And solve the problem concerning the growing need to be one.
Without constant servicing, Venom would eventually act without meaning
to. It wouldn’t do to kill Peter Parker.

          A dead Spider
was no good to them.



End

<><><><><><>

   

    Yep, pretty short. Not sure if I'll do another
Spidey fic - my knowledge of Spidey is foggy since last time I followed
it was like, five or more years ago. xx; Damn movies for reviving the
fandomness,:p