Blood by My Hand

A/N: Starts in the comic and becomes AU. I do not own any of the characters you recognize, and Clay, even if you don’t recognize the name, is included in that. However, I did make up Jack and Derek. There will be some pretty serious Non Con later, but I’ll leave a warning at the beginning of the chapter that involves it. If you’re concerned, I assure you that the rape doesn’t involve Peter. This chapter is actually two long because I wanted to get the sex in as soon as I could. Co-written with NdP.

The whole story is based around my favorite Ultimate Spider-Man quote: “In a way, really, Otto and I are your parents.” Norman Osborn, Ultimate Six.

Peter sat in his English class listening to his teacher scream. Another F. Aunt May would be so disappointed, and Peter was pretty frustrated with himself. He was a super-hero and he couldn't manage to balance both of his lives? He sat in his desk, glaring sullenly at the red letter on his paper, until he heard his name from the door. His worry depended somewhat when he saw it was the principal, but he gathered his stuff and followed the man into the hall. There was a man out there waiting for him, someone he didn't recognize.

"Peter, I'm Clay Quartermain. Will you come with me, please?"

Outback of the school were five men in street clothes. Norman Osborn stood slightly ahead of the others, hands in his pockets. "Some hero," he mused, amused. Arrayed at his shoulders were Otto Octavius and Max Dillon to his left, Flint Marco and Sergei Kravenoff.

Inside, Peter was beginning to feel the tingle of danger in the back of his mind, even though he couldn't quite tell where it was coming from. SHIELD did have a tendency to show up a lot, but he knew better than to trust mysterious people, especially now that so many people seemed to know his identity. "Uh... Can I see some kind of identification?"
Suddenly, the blare of the fire alarm cut down the hall. Oh, crap, not this again... Peter thought as the sprinklers came on. All around him, doors were opening and students were filing out of their classrooms. Well, actually, it was a little more panicked than that...

The five had moved into the school, Norman leading the way with an explosive fireball launched at the doors. The hall was burning, despite the efforts of the sprinklers. "Bring him to me," the Goblin growled at the other men. "Don't hurt him."

"Be sensible, Osborn. In less than ten minutes, SHIELD personnel will be all over this place," Clay threatened. It wasn't an idle threat by any means, but it probably wasn't enough.

Peter didn't pause. He jerked away from the SHIELD agent and shoved through the crowds of now running students, trying to find a quiet place to hide and put his costume on. He couldn't fight them in front of everybody, unmasked like this.

Flint was hanging back due to the water, but Otto went after the boy, using his tentacles to get over the petrified students. Clay did have a weapon, but he didn't want to risk using it until more of the civilians were outside. It wouldn't look good if he opened fire in a crowded high school hallway... So he took off after Peter, toward the more empty areas of the school.

Max took to the air, flying over the students in a haze of electricity, not caring who got shocked. Norman merely powered straight through. After a pause, Flint flowed up into an air vent, and Kraven merely used Norman's wake, still swatting the occasional teenager out of the way. He'd been in this building before. They were heading for the gym.

Otto stayed close behind the boy the entire way, grabbing at the youth with his claws more often than not. As the crowds thinned, Peter's evasion tactics grew more elaborate, but Otto didn't let up. When they burst into the empty gym, Peter managed to get a web-shooter out of his backpack and made for the high ceiling. The tentacled madman followed.

In the hall, when the students were cleared, Clay turned and fired on the Goblin. It looked like a regular gun, but the organization wouldn't send him out with these five on the loose with a normal gun. This was a laser that packed a more powerful punch. Even if it didn't bring the creature down, Clay had been sent to protect the boy and get him back to base.

Norman howled as it seared his shoulder, and the monster saw red. Gathering fire between his hands, he flung the ball of burning plasma at the shooter. Still firing, he threw himself to the side, but the orange globe washed over him from the knees down. Clay howled in pain, stunned. Kraven ran up the wall to dodge around the flames and kept on for the gym. Norman had this under control, evidently.

Norman strode up to the man and lifted him by a leg. "Moron."

Clay made one last ditch effort, twisting to aim the weapon up at the creature's face and pulling the trigger. Norman had to shield his face with a hand, and the hand holding Clay lit, lighting him. Flames raced over the human, consuming him in moments.
The agent screamed, writhing and twisting as he was consumed, but there was nothing he could do.

In the gym, Otto dodged a kick from the boy and swatted him back with a tentacle. He was trying not to hurt him too much, but dammit was it tempting to try and break something.

Peter suddenly found himself in a freefall as another claw slashed through the webbing. Another metal snake was reaching for him, but he used it as a spring board to grab the rope. To think the thing that had caused him so much pain and humiliation was actually helping him now. He let his momentum swing him away, and then bring him back, firing a foot into Ock's face. The scientist's glasses jarred loose and he cried out in surprised pain.

A fireball raced past Otto, burning through Peter's webs as Osborn smashed through the remains of the gym door. "Boy! Come here!"

As he fell, the boy shot out another web, still only wearing the single shooter. It certainly made it a lot harder. He'd kicked off his shoes a while ago, and he landed in a crouch on the wall. Just as he did, though, a large fuzzy paw slapped him loose and he fell again. A cloud of sand swirled out of the vent and curled around him, filling his nose and mouth. When it cleared, he was on the cold gym floor coughing and spitting.

Max shocked him, once, twice, and Norman held up a hand. "I think he may be willing to talk."

He was on his side by then, his heart thundering in his chest from the jolts. The adolescent pushed himself to his feet anyway, his breathing more or less back under control. His glare was defiant, but he was waiting for one of the men surrounding him to attack first.

They circled him, and Norman approached, looming over him. "Peter," he growled, grinning sharply. "I wish this weren't necessary."

The youth took a step back impulsively, watching the twisting shadows of Ock's tentacles weaving across the Goblin's face. "I wish you weren't crazy. You can't get everything you want..." All he had to do was stall for a couple more minutes. SHIELD was coming, right? If he couldn't take all five of these clowns at once, he might be able to take two or three. Especially Kraven, who was lurking to his left. Kraven was the goofiest of them all.

Max moved closer behind him. Norman kept talking. "You can't escape fate, my boy. We made you. You're one of us."

Kraven was stalking around, too. He and Max were almost in line. The question was could he get a web around Norman using one shooter. Without thinking about it too hard, his arm shot up and he fired a sticky white gob into the beast-man's eyes. He roared, clawing at the gunk, and lunged, just as the others started moving too. Peter jumped, however, adding the power of a kick to Kraven's momentum, and barreled the hunter straight into the human battery.

Norman leapt for him, claws outstretched. "You choose this, Peter!"

The doors to the gym slammed open, SHIELD agents in heavy armor pouring in. "We have you surrounded, Osborn," Fury's voice came from under one of the helmets. "Surrender now."

Osborn grabbed for Peter, swept the small hero into a bear hug. "Stand aside, Fury!"

"Let the kid go, this is between you and me."

Peter, for his part, didn't intend to go peacefully. He kicked and struggled, twisting.

"No," Norman grinned. "This is between me and the Boy."

Max was crumpled against a wall with the bulk of a singed Kraven on top of him. They didn't mean anything to Otto. Kraven was an empty headed, testosterone dripping, 'reality' TV star and the other two were just a pair of lowly thugs. All expendable. So, when a wave of sand, dirt, and dust rose up to consume the agents, and they started firing on it, Otto jerked on Norman slightly with a tentacle and jerked his head toward a high window, even as he himself made for it.

Norman leapt for it, scrambling up the wall with the aid of long claws. With Peter slung over his shoulder, he made the windows as well, crashing through them. Max noticed this, and tried to call out, "Hey, what about-" but by then the pair was gone and agents were closing in on him.

There were two police helicopters over the school. When the men inside saw the super-villains emerge, they noticed the small hostage swung over the gargantuan shoulder. The boy wasn't making himself easy to carry. "Stop where you are!" A voice blared over a bullhorn as someone in the other chopper tried to aim. The Goblin was a large target in relation to his hostage.

On the ground, being ushered back from the building, Mary Jane watched breathlessly. Norman wrapped a hand entirely around Peter's head, cutting off his air. He kept running, an evasive, lunging pattern.

The teenager kept struggling, but those struggles were losing strength quickly. Otto surged up on his actuators, reaching for the gunman with one and plucking him from the helicopter. Someone in the other helicopter started shooting at him, but he did his best to deflect them with the free tentacle. One claw hooked on the helicopter he'd just pulled the gunman out of and pulled him up, under it, so he'd be harder to hit. His tentacles then commenced to clear out everyone but the pilot.

Norman spotted him, and grinned, jumping up to catch the undercarriage of the copter and climbing into it, using Octavius's tentacles for purchase. "Clever, clever." He advanced on the pilot. "Lucky man. Fly us away from here, and you get to live."

The pilot looked frantically from the hulking green creature to the tentacled man slipping in after him. He certainly didn't want to end up splattered across the ground like the previous passengers, so he obeyed, though the other helicopter followed.

"Lose them," Norman growled, leaning over the back of his seat.

The pilot could feel the heat radiating from the pyrokinetic and, beginning to prickle with nervous sweat, again tried to obey. He headed for the city, aiming to lose the other helicopter it the glass and cement canyons of the skyscrapers.

"No," he told him gruffly. "Away from the city."

"But... Y-you told me to lose..." the man stammered, brain only half functioning with the violent mutant breathing down his neck. Most of his attention was on keeping the copter up and level.

Norman laid the unconscious Peter on the floor of the chopper, giving the pilot his full attention. "I did. Lose them, or I'll blow them out of the sky."

The pilot gulped. He had friends on the other machine, and they had families, loved ones... "I-I'm trying..." And he was, turning obediently away from the city, going up to seek cloud cover. The other one was falling behind, though slowly.

"Good," Norman purred in his ear. "Take us down the coast."

"Yes, sir..." The pilot responded weakly, one glance back at the unconscious boy. The other mutant was in the back looking through the kid's backpack, and he thought he caught a glimpse of red and blue fabric, but wasn't certain.

The city and the other helicopter faded behind them as they went into the clouds, and Norman relaxed somewhat. He checked Peter, and turned to Otto. "Find anything?"

The doctor held up the second web-shooter. The device was fascinating. He'd believed the boy generated the webs organically, but now that he knew otherwise, he found himself wanting to look into the formula of the substance. Had a fifteen-year-old really made all of this himself?

"What is it?"

"The device he uses to shoot webs, evidently..." Otto turned it over in his hands, too interested in it to look at Norman. "He was wearing the other one. You may want to confiscate it if you haven't already..."

Norman looked down, and he began to shrink back to human as he knelt beside the boy. By the time he had the other shooter off him, he was only a man.

The pilot shot a glance over his shoulder. This conversation was curious. He wasn't, however, offered any explanation, of course. In the back of his mind somewhere, he thought perhaps the boy was Spider-Man, but that was ridiculous. The kid was... well, a kid...

Otto fell silent appraising the object in his hands. It must have been highly pressurized, because the cartridge itself was pretty small. Though the youth had been more of a thorn in his side than anything else, he couldn't help being vaguely impressed.

Time passed and the scenery below them changed and changed again. Just under an hour into the flight, Peter stirred a little on the floor. Norman was sitting beside him, casual and at-ease. "Welcome back, my boy."

His eyes opened, his vision drifting back into focus. The floor hummed underneath him and he could hear a loud steady... roar? No, not quite, but it sounded almost like a plane or... His eyes suddenly snapped open wide and he jerked upright, looking around. Across the way, Ock was watching him, a web-shooter in his hand and Peter's book bag open at his feet. Norman sat beside him, and he was aware of a pilot behind him. The pilot was his main concern, not the man himself, but because it indicated they were flying somewhere, and he had a bad feeling it wasn't a lift home...

Norman offered him a hand, pulling him up into a seat. "I apologize for the measures you forced me to take. We shouldn't be much longer."

Apologize? Apologize? Peter jerked away from him and stood up, eyes flicking from one to the other. "What kind of nutty nutbar thing are you up to? Where are we?" He could see out the window, now, and they were definitely in the air. High in the air. He wouldn't be able to jump.

Norman's hand closed on his shoulder, pushing him back down. "Sit down. There's no where for you to go. I shall explain everything when we arrive."

The outraged teenager glared, but Osborn was, unfortunately, right. There wasn't much he could do until they landed. So, he sat, as far from the two men as he could get, and plotted ways to get out once they were on the ground.

Norman directed the pilot to a set of coordinates miles down the coast. They flew over dense, empty forest until they reached a track of abandoned beach in front of a desolate-looking house. "Land here."

Shaking slightly, but keeping it steady, the pilot obeyed. He didn't really expect them to let him go, but dammit if he didn't hope...

Peter watched the ground approach, gauging the distance as best he could. Suddenly, when they were about seven feet up, the youth jumped to his feet and dove for the door, wrenching it open. The wind from the blades ruffled his hair, but he ignored it, kicking off the edge as far away as he could. He hit the sand and rolled, skinning his palms a bit, but not caring. Scrabbling, to his feet he started to run, but he heard feet hit the ground behind him. Before he could look over his shoulder to see which one it was, something sticky and white ensnared his ankle, tripping him. When he did look back, he saw Ock wearing a web-shooter on one tentacle.

Osborn had expected something of the sort, and left it to Otto to catch the boy. He stepped out of the helicopter once it was on the ground and strode towards him. "There really is no where to go, Peter," he said genially, reaching down to grab his wrist. "Please, cooperate so I don't have to hurt you again."

The youth struggled impulsively for a moment before giving in for the time being. "What do you want?"

Back at the helicopter, Otto was making sure the pilot didn't take off just then. They certainly couldn't let him leave knowing where they were, but he'd wait for Norman's input before he did anything rash.

"I just want you to listen for a while." He pulled him towards the house. "Otto, please take care of the pilot?"

"But... but you said..." The man pried at the metal snakes dragging him out into the sand, panicking. "No! No, please!"

Norman's face revealed nothing as he ushered Peter in through the door, leaving Otto to it. Peter wasn't making it easy, struggling to get back to the screaming pilot. "Wait, you can't-" The screams were cut off abruptly, before he could finish his protest.

"Hush. He's not worth your pity."

There was nothing Peter could do for the pilot now, so he settled for glaring at Norman. He felt sick. "No, you're a psychotic freak."

"Now, now." He sounded amused. "Name-calling is juvenile."

Frustration. He switched tactics. "Look, we're here, wherever here is, so just tell me what it is you want."

Norman ushered him into an inner room. "Tell me what you are, my boy," he said, his expression bland, for him.

Not necessarily sure where he was going with this, the boy answered, "A mutant?"

"Not precisely. Try again."

"I... A... kid with... spider powers?" What the hell did this nutcake want from him? Then again, he was pumped so full of goblin juice, Osborn himself probably didn't even know what he was doing anymore.

"You're superior," he said, stressing the word.

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Okay..."

"You don't have to demean yourself with the lower caste anymore," he said airily. He let them into a kitchen, and shut the door behind Peter.

Great, so now he was part of one of Osborn's delusions? There weren't any windows in this room, Norman was between him and the door, and he didn't have his web-shooters. Even if he did get out, he knew there was practically nothing for miles and miles around. It was a little intimidating, so he retaliated with sarcasm. "Do you even know why you brought me here?"

"To get you away from them." He opened the fridge, rummaging through it. "So you could listen to me without interference."

"Is this about me hanging up the costume again?" He remembered the evening he went to their home for 'dinner' all too well.

"No, no. By all means, keep your little hero games."

Even more frustration. "Would you quit the cryptic talk and just tell me what you want?"

"I want you to apply that brain of yours." He was amusing himself now. Make the boy think. Norman knew Peter was trapped.

That didn't sound too good. "Doing what?" He couldn't want him to steal something, could he? That seemed a little petty, but he wouldn't put anything past Osborn anymore.

"Learning. You're brilliant, Peter. I saw those clever little webbing devices. I assume the chemical was one of your father's inventions?"

"Well... I modified it a little, but pretty much..."

"I thought so. Very impressive. You never were normal, were you?"

He wasn't interested in the direction the conversation was wandering off in. "How long do you plan on keeping me here?"

"A while." Vague. He offered Peter a bottle of orange juice. "Until you see. You don't belong with them."

Peter didn't reject it, but he didn't accept it either. Maybe he didn't quite fit in there, but he was certain of one thing. "I don't belong here."

"You don't belong there." Osborn actually sounded reasonable. "Give us a week." It was an order, the hint of steel beneath his words. "You're much more like us than you are like them."

"You're murderers! You killed the pilot, high school students, that SHIELD agent...." He would not identify himself with these twisted, brutal creatures.

"If you hadn't run, fewer people would have died," he pointed out.

"Don't try to pin this on me, you're the one who chose to chase me!" And it wasn't like they hadn't killed people before this.

"You're the one who chose to run." Norman wasn't raising his voice, wasn't reacting to Peter's anger at all.

"I'm not. Like. You."

"I made you."

"The spider was an accident." They couldn't watch him forever, couldn't keep him here. He'd get out somehow.

"Hm." Norman made a noncommittal sound. "The serum wasn't."

"That spider could have bitten anyone. I don't owe you anything." He really just wanted to go home. Norman had said give it a week but what would happen at the end of that week if Peter still said no?

"It bit you. Would you rather go back to what you were before?"

He still got picked on. If it weren't for the sequence of events after the spider, his Uncle Ben would be alive and he wouldn't have mutated psychos giving him trouble at every turn. All he said was, "Sometimes, actually, I would."

That actually sparked a reaction, a moment of rage flaring and quickly buried in Norman's eyes. "You don't see yet."

"You chose to turn yourself into genetic soup. All this has ever done for me is made my life more complicated than it has to be. That is what I see."

"You see nothing."

Peter didn't have a response for that. Norman was a loon.

Norman took his shoulder and steered him down a narrow flight of stairs behind the kitchen. "You will see."

Ah, geeze, now what? But the boy went without resisting. There wasn't much else to do.

The basement was a bomb shelter, with a heavy locking door. Norman pulled it open effortlessly. "You should be comfortable in here."

The youth looked around. It was somewhere between prison cell and mediocre hotel room, but, again, he didn't have a choice. No windows, though. That was the suckiest part. He wouldn't be getting out for a while. God, what would Aunt May think? Norman locked him in, the sound of bolts driving home echoing in the cement room. Peter flinched at the sound, backing away from the door and slumping on the edge of the bed. He may have been Spider-Man, but he was still just a fifteen-year-old boy. He wasn't sure how much of this he could take...

Part 2- That’s right. You can take a break here and finish reading later, if you like (Insert smiley face of your choosing here).

"Norman?" Otto called as he stepped in the back door. The body had been easy to hide. The helicopter was proving to be more of a problem.

Norman was in the kitchen again, preparing himself a sandwich. "Done?"

"Do you think you're going to want the helicopter any time in the near future?"

"No, not likely. I can always get another."

"Good, because to hide it, I'll likely have to disassemble it."

Norman looked through the kitchen door at the windows lining the front of the house. Beyond them, the ocean was a grey, rough mass. "Or sink it."

"Yes, but I'd like to gut it first, anyhow. Never know when you'll need spare parts..." As he spoke he was turning back toward the door. He was a bit of a packrat for things of that sort.

"Suit yourself." Norman offered him the sandwich. "Take this, though."

Otto nodded with a half smile, taking it with an actuator, and took a bite of it as he headed through the door. Depending on what he found, perhaps he could fit one of the tentacles with a camera. It was one of the things he'd been contemplating while in prison.

Norman followed him out, but just to watch. He'd let the boy stew a while.

Taking the sandwich in a human hand, Otto got into the back and leaned over the back of the pilot's seat to give his tentacles more room to work on the cockpit. "How's the boy taking it?" He asked after a few moments of silence.

"He'll come around," the business man said with an easy reassurance. He sat on the sand, making himself comfortable.

More silence as he finished the sandwich and then, "Where is he now?"

"I put him in the shelter."

"Sure he won't be able to break out?"

"It's a foot of concrete, and the bolts for the door are four inches thick. I'm unsure if I could break out."

Well, it didn't sound like the youth could get out, but out of curiosity, he asked, "What's outside the concrete?"

"If I remember right, a rebar mesh, and then just the earth around it. It's twelve feet below the house, after all."

"Hm," Otto responded, and then lapsed into silence as he found something of particular interest.

Norman watched him work. "He will come around," he said again.

"Of course he will. It took me a couple weeks to fully accept my situation, though being incarcerated didn't help..." Another item of interest. He put it in the small pile forming on the seat.

"I'll give him as much freedom as I can."

"Hm? Well, maybe, but the point was, don't expect him to come around too quickly. Neither of us asked for what happened, after all, and though it's not impossible to embrace it, it's not particularly easy either..."

"I know." He let sand trickle through his fingers. "But he's smart, Otto. He's smart enough to understand this."

"Yes, he is smart, but he's also still a kid."

"No." Norman leaned back on his elbows. "He's not just a child. He's quite possibly our greatest creation."

"That he is." Though Otto didn't have much faith in young people, he couldn't help smiling a little at that last bit. A couple minutes later he was at the side door again, Parker's backpack dangling in one claw. "What do you want to do with this?"

"What's left in it?"

"A binder, the costume, lunch money... Pretty much everything but the web-shooters."

"Make sure there's nothing he can use to get out or contact anyone and give it to him."

He opened the bag and looked through it again. "That depends on how paranoid you want to be. For example, if I were desperate enough I might try to put someone's eyes out with a pen, though he very well may be the first teenager I've seen without a cell phone..."

"A pen I can handle. He gets one." Norman held his hand out for the bag. Otto passed it to him and returned to gutting the chopper. Norman dug through the pack. He removed the boy's wallet, smiling at the pictures of the redhead. What was her name? Ah yes, Mary Jane. He kept that. "Are you nearly done?"

The scientist raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you in that much of a hurry?"

"No hurry." He merely sounded bored.

"I could be a while, then. You're not obligated to hang around and watch, you know."

"Nothing better to do."

Otto worked for a few more hours, sorting the bits, bringing the first collection into the house and leaving it on the kitchen table before going out for another trip. Norman eventually grew restless. He amused himself briefly, melting a glass handprint into the sand, and then stood, brushing the sand and beach detritus from his clothing.

"I don't suppose you have a small video camera I can take apart..." Otto was stepping out of the chopper on his second to last trip.

"I don't, but look through the house. Fisk is sure to have a toy like that."

"Fisk's place, is it? Hm..." The scientist disappeared back into the house. Well, in that case, perhaps he could fit all four of them with cameras. He'd have to see how the nanites took to it...

Norman followed him slowly in. He didn't have much of a plan for the rest of the day. He wanted to persist with Peter, but he knew the boy needed time to think. The more he applied that brain, the more he'd realize that Osborn was right.

As Otto was coming back in with the last of the parts, he smirked a little at Norman. "Bored, hm? You could always dispose of what's left of the helicopter. Your powers are better suited for it, at any rate."

He snerked. "Should I fling it into the bay or melt it to slag?"

"No reason why you can't do the latter and follow it with the former."

"Actually... The fuel tanks are a problem. An explosion would attract attention we don't want."

"Hm... true." Otto shrugged, looking through for anything he might be able to use on this particular project. "Do what you will." Perhaps if he could get the cameras to work properly, losing the glasses in a fight wouldn't be quite so debilitating.

"Give me a hand getting the fuel tanks out."

Though he really wanted to start searching the house for cameras, he went back outside with Norman. He did have days to work on the modifications, and he imagined things would be pretty slow for a while.

Norman changed again as he strode down the beach, and he dropped to all fours as they reached the chopper. With a grin, he flipped the thing upside down with a screech of metal.

"Show off," Otto teased dryly as he lifted himself up on his bottom tentacles to look at the undercarriage. If they were getting rid of it anyway, there wasn't necessarily any reason to be too neat, so the two free claws punched through the belly of the thing and peeled it back. Even so, he was careful enough not to puncture the tanks. They were just under half full after the trip down the coast.

"Keep those if you can use them," Norman told him, using his claws to strip out the fuel lines.

He didn't have any specific ideas in mind, but dumping it in the ocean seemed like such a waste, so he carefully removed them and set them aside in the sand. Once they were clear, Norman climbed up onto the wreckage of the chopper, and ignited. He focused the flame and heat into the metal and soon the whole mass was alight. Otto stood back and watched. His face was expressionless, but he really was fascinated. As interesting as Parker's results were, this was more impressive by far.

Norman had to jump clear as the metal itself began to burn, the machine's shape distorting. Clearly enjoying himself, he threw ball after ball of burning plasma into the blaze. The sun was heading down by this point, and the orange and blue flames made an interesting blend with the pink streaking the sky. By the time Norman was satisfied, the sky was dark and the helicopter was a bonfire, reduced to the size of a small car by the heat of the flames.

Otto looked up at the stars. "If you don't need me for anything else, there's a project I'd like to work on..."

Norman looked over at him, and there was something that was almost disappointment in his eyes as he dwindled back to the human shape he wore. He masked it quickly. "No, thank you for your help," he said formally.

Nodding, Otto disappeared back inside and began searching the house top to bottom for any sort of camera. Once he found one, he decided it would be enough for now, until he could make sure it would work right. He took up a place at one end of the kitchen table and laid the upper right tentacle across the surface in front of him. The liquid metal skin peeled itself back and the others went to work on it, with only the occasional assistance from his organic hands.

Norman wandered the house, and found himself new clothes. The ones he'd worn were torn and fire-stained. A shower later, he found his way to the kitchen and leaned against the door frame, watching Otto. Though he was aware of the other man's presence, he was immersed enough in what he was doing to not respond. Norman kept moving closer, until he was watching over Otto's shoulder.

The camera, a wireless security device that hadn't been put up, was in pieces across the table. The core of the tentacle was open and he was making minute adjustments to some wire inside. He hadn't needed to use the electrical interfaces in a while, aside from when he'd added the tazer, but they still seemed to be in working order.

"Can you feel it, when you're working on the inside like that?" Norman asked in a low voice.

"There aren't any pain receptors, if that's what you mean. To a degree, though."

"How much can you feel?" He ran a hand down one of the actuators not involved in the operation.

"Mostly pressure, to pick things up. Some temperature, I suppose, though not quite in the same way an organic being might experience it. The nanite skin is more sensitive than the core."

"Can you feel this?" He continued to caress the limb, fingers light.

"Yes... It's a little distracting..." But his eyes didn't leave the wires as he began attaching the camera eye.

"You have all week for this."

A shrug. "I've started it. Best to finish it now. I hope to upgrade all of them with this feature eventually."

With an amused sigh, Norman stopped playing with the tentacle and pulled up a stool, watching him work.

"Something on your mind?"

"Merely unoccupied." He watched Otto's hands, his chin on his crossed arms.

"Hm." Otto didn't particularly mind being watched, so that was all he said on the subject. After not too long there was a little spark and the lens lit up red. Behind the glasses, his eyes slipped closed and he concentrated. The concentration melted into a frown and he opened his eyes, fiddling with the wires again. When that didn't work, he pushed back from the table and opened the tentacle at the base, where it met the harness. It was the one the boy had pulled off. It apparently hadn't been reattached quite right.

"Something wrong?"

"Idiots at SHIELD repaired it wrong. Why they'd be gullible enough to try to repair them at all is beyond me..." A few adjustments and he felt something in his mind switch on, like a blurry television. Closing up the base, he finished the wiring in the top and it popped into focus. The rush of it was a little disorienting at first.

Norman was the first thing the camera saw. "Is it working now?"

Otto nodded, a distant look in his eyes, as his tentacles closed up their counter part. "Perhaps..." He blinked a couple times as the skin grew back over the exposed metal. "Perhaps I should do them a day or so apart..." At least the light from the tentacle's 'eye' didn't hurt.

"Disorienting?"

"Suddenly having a third eye? Yes." An amused half smile. "Convenient, though."

Norman made eye-contact with the actuator, smirking. "Oh, I believe it."

One extended to the refrigerator and opened it. There was a box of leftover pizza inside. "How long has this place been empty?"

"Since Fisk left the country. There's canned food in the pantry. Ought to be all right."

"Hn..." Otto stood up and went to look.

Norman followed, rather close behind him. He wanted to see how close Otto would let him get.

Seemingly taking no note of the other man, Otto continued going through the cans. He didn't feel like doing anything too involved, even though he had a couple ideas. He went for the chicken soup instead. "You want some, too?"

"Not really hungry," he said. He sounded amused, as if at some private joke.

The red light in the actuator turned toward him, but that was Otto's only reaction to him. Another tentacle pulled down a bowl, while still another open the can, while still another tore off a paper towel. He poured the soup in the bowl and covered it with the paper towel, a tentacle meanwhile opening the microwave. Every action was fluid and perfectly coordinated.

And more than fluid, it was controlled. Norman's eyes kept being drawn back to the man at the center of the tentacles. He wasn't hungry for soup, at any rate.

It wasn't that Otto was unaware of how close Norman seemed to be paying attention; it was just that he was more absorbed in adjusting to the new addition to his tentacles. The silence of the kitchen was shattered by the beeping and then the hum of the microwave.

Norman sighed impatiently.

Otto turned and leaned against the counter, looking at Norman with his human eyes this time. "Forgive me. Being social is not exactly one of my strong points."

"Oh, I know. How long have we worked together now?"

"As long as I've lived alone, certainly." The microwave beeped and one actuator drew the bowl out as the other got out a spoon.

"When did your wife leave you?"

"Hn..." He took a bite of the soup while he thought about it. "It was a little more mutual than that, but about seven years ago."

"No one since then?"

"Always put my work before that sort of thing. Didn't seem worth juggling the two."

"There are ways to balance it, you know."

A shrug. "Perhaps." He ate some more soup. "Though you didn't exactly balance work and family well yourself."

"Family? I didn't say anything about family."

One of the tentacles made a waving off gesture. "Either way, my point was about prioritizing one's job over one's relationships, whatever those relationships may be." He finished the soup and set the bowl in the sink with an actuator.

Norman came up behind him again. "There are always ways of mixing work and play."

He wasn't completely oblivious. He could sense that Norman had been up to something all evening. He just hadn't decided for certain how to respond yet. All he said was, "Is that so?"

"It is." And with little warning, Norman was on him, arms around his waist and breath on his neck.

Though he didn't push him off, Otto let out a short laugh. "I... didn't know you were in to that sort of thing..."

"Have you ever known me to limit myself?"

"No..." Otto looked over his shoulder. "Have you ever done this before?"

"I think you'd remember." He bit his neck gently, certainly insistent. He had no intention of being told no.

"I meant with anyone else," the scientist smirked.

"No, actually, I haven't."

"Huh..." Otto leaned his head back on Norman's shoulder, still not one hundred percent sure how to feel about. It wasn't Norman himself, it was just that he didn't really put a whole lot of stock in sex. It was a distraction.

"You know my standards," he purred, one hand winding in Otto's short hair. "Can you think of anyone else in the lab who'd interest me?"

"Honestly? I don't really think about sex much at all..." Otto smiled, a bit coyly.

"You know, there was a bet in the lab that you had never had any." Norman's hands explored his chest as he pressed against him from behind.

The man chuckled. "And what are your thoughts on the subject?"

"I would never stoop to that sort of speculation," he said loftily.

"Come on, now, you must have an opinion..."

"I doubt you had time for her, past your wedding night."

He turned around. "Twice. She talked me into it on our first anniversary."

Norman stepped away long enough to let the arms sweep past him before invading Otto's personal space again, linking his fingers behind his back. "Hmm. That means Shaw won."

"Seems a bit pointless to me... Unless someone had intended to ask me at some point..." And he doubted that.

"They were intending to ask her, actually."

"Probably would have lied. She's a vindictive witch."

"Why did you bother with her?"

"I thought it was something I wanted, and realized human relationships are a bother to maintain." He contemplated. "And I suppose there are a number of things I'll try at least once..."

"Just once?" Norman's hands traced the definition of Otto's back, slipping under his shirt, warm against his skin.

"At least once," he corrected, twitching once at the skin to skin contact.

Norman tried to pull his shirt off. It caught on the harness and Otto hesitated a moment before, with an apparent mental shrug, helping Norman disentangle it, ducking his head to keep the glasses from pulling off. Norman chuckled, running his hands over the scar tissue to be found there.

The scientist was a little self-conscious about the scars. He didn't give any vocal cues to this, but the set of his jaw changed minutely. Norman was more than a little scarred him self. He ran his fingers around the edge of the harness, aware of the sensitive skin there. Otto had to admit the soft tickling sensation wasn't exactly unpleasant. An actuator subconsciously wrapped around Norman's calf. "There are better places to do this..."

"Choose one. Take us there."

Brief moment of thought, and then the tentacle slithered off his leg. However, a different claw took a hold of Norman's wrist and drew him upstairs, into a large bedroom.

Norman chuckled, keeping an arm around Otto's waist. By the time they were in the bedroom, his fingers were slipping free the fly of the scientist's pants.

The tentacle twined back up Norman's leg, the one on his wrist slithering up his arm while another slithered under his shirt and wrapped around his torso. Consciously sex didn't interest him too much, but the tentacles were linked to a different, more impulsive part of his brain.

Norman didn't seem intimidated by them. The cool metal on his too-warm skin was a study in contrasts. He pulled Octavius forward by the waist of his slacks, and his hand slipped inside.

The scientist's breath caught in his throat despite himself, the metal snakes tightening. Some of the nanites flowed to the end of the metal appendage, lengthening and slimming it down. The tip of it slid under Norman's waist band. It wasn't quite so cold now, warmed by the pyrokinetic's skin.

Nothing stayed cold near Norman for long. He wrapped a hand around Otto's cock and pressed against him, grinding his hips slightly.

Biting his lip, Otto moaned softly, eyes closed behind the glasses. Norman's hand was warm. The artificial limbs writhed over the other man's body, the one around his torso occasionally brushing over his nipples.

Norman's eyes were open, almost gloating. He'd managed to distract the great brain. "Undress me," he murmured, tracing small circles with his thumb over the head his cock.

The tentacle stayed under his shirt, but the claws reformed and slipped the button on his fly before drawing down the zipper.

"Faster," he ordered him, squeezing with the prick of claws. The harshness was offset by his mouth on Otto's neck again, gently biting and sucking. Otto gasped through his teeth, but the tentacles obeyed. "And yourself." He stifled further gasps with a possessive kiss.

He used his organic hands to finish undressing himself, returning the kiss. He hadn't really thought about it before, but Norman was rather attractive. And persistent. And strong. Norman pushed him back until the bed was against the back of his knees. If it wasn't for Norman's persistence, this probably would have ended in the kitchen. As it was, though, Otto found himself getting a little more into it. He let himself fall back across the bed, pulling Norman with him. Once they hit the mattress, he rolled the other man onto his back and pinned him playfully with the tentacles, to see how he would respond.

Norman grinned sharply up at him, his teeth too sharp. "More interested now?"

"A little," Otto smirked, touching the other man with his finger tips for the first time since this thing began. His fingers traced down the side of Norman's face and across his lips. "Does this mean I get to be on top?" He teased.

Norman caught his fingers between those teeth, but didn't bite. He held them a moment before releasing them. "Do you think you can handle it?" he purred.

The long thin tentacle made another appearance and wrapped around Norman's member, squeezing just slightly. Otto came back with, "Do you think you can? I could be quite rough with these, if the urge struck me so..."

Norman hissed in a breath through his teeth. "I do think we're rather a match for one another."

Chuckling darkly, Otto pressed his lips to Norman's, the tentacle starting to stroke and massage him. Norman moved against him, power contained in his hard form. The kiss was a draw, neither side ceding dominance. Otto finally broke the kiss and bit Norman's bottom lip. He then proceeded to trail rough bites down Norman's neck and shoulder, even though the Goblin's teeth were considerably more impressive.

Norman's skin crawled pleasantly as adrenalin woke every cell. Otto was a threat, and not. He was in control of this situation and he knew it, but his body didn't. The contrast was so appealing.

"With or without lubrication?" Otto purred in the other man's ear.

He chuckled. "If you think you need it, there may be something you can use in my pants."

"Hm... Depends on how intense you want to get..." The reformed tentacle still between Norman's legs writhed and caressed suggestively.

His breath grew coarser. "None," he growled, his eyes glowing faintly.

A grin spread slowly across Otto's face and the actuators turned Norman on his stomach, pinning him a little more roughly this time.

Pressed to the bed, Norman growled again. It was, perhaps, a hallmark of how much trust he had in Otto that he was allowing this to happen, but more likely a point of how much control he had over the man.

The scientist situated himself between Norman's legs and let the slender silver snake slide down the other man's spine. His back was solid, as though chiseled from rock. The tentacle slithered down Norman's rear, and finally pressed at the entrance. This would be painful, especially considering Norman had never done this before, but Otto was certain the other man could take it.

So was Norman. He lifted his hips against him, demanding it. The lukewarm metal penetrated, withdrew slightly, and then pushed deep. The sound Norman made could only be described as a roar as he bucked against it. "Yesss!"

"Hm, a loud one, are you?" Otto smirked, crooking the tentacle forward a bit as he started working it in and out.

"Harder," he ordered, his back arching with the movement of the tentacle. His voice was deep with arousal. "And get over here where I can see you."

It pounded harder while the others slithered around the other man, pulling him up on his knees and touching him everywhere. As Otto moved around in front of him, another snaked down to massage Norman's cock again.

Osborn growled, letting the actuators support him while he reached forward and grabbed Otto's hips, pulling him close. His nails, distinctly claw-like now, dug in just slightly. The scientist put his forehead against Norman's, watching his eyes intensely as the actuator he was fucking him with grew just a bit wider.

Norman kissed him hard, grabbing his hair in a fist. He rocked with every motion of the actuator, but he was still in control. Forcing himself to stay in control and not give in to the sensation that was building in his chest.

Octavius kissed back, his hands running up Norman's thighs to his hips. His lips moved on to the other man's jaw, and then his neck, where his mouth nipped and sucked gently.

Norman pulled Otto's head back and bit the side of his throat hard enough to draw blood before he pushed him back and down, his mouth traveling down his chest, over his stomach. The man didn't make a sound, but the tentacles still around Norman constricted somewhat. Osborn went down on him aggressively, his claws digging into his sides.

Still no vocalizations, but his respiration increased significantly, the claws of one tentacle tightening on Norman's shoulder. Norman growled around Otto's cock, looking up at him with a dark gleam. His wife had never done this, and Otto rather liked it. A breathy groan escaped his vocal chords and his hips lifted off the bed slightly.

Norman pushed him back down, with a very clearly communicated 'Don't move.'

Otto complied, but the actuators still twisted and caressed, fucking Norman a little harder. They were never completely still while they were connected to him, unless he focused on it, and he couldn't quite summon up that level of concentration at this moment.

His mouth was cruelly hot, clever and almost-but-not-quite-dangerous with all those teeth. He knew how to apply it, trying to drive Otto out of his mind before the actuators drove him out of his own. The moans became more frequent, but he seemed to take it as a challenge, holding out. One of Norman's hands slipped between his legs, and down. One claw pressed against, into Otto's entrance even as he swallowed his cock, powerful throat working around its head.

"Ah... ah..." Otto breathed, and then his breath caught in his throat as he peaked, shoulders arching off the mattress.

Only then did Norman allow himself to release, swallowing Otto's cum and growling as he shuddered around the tentacle.

The tentacle shrank back down and slithered out, the other one unwinding from his cock. The rest remained draped around Norman, but they were limp and sluggish in their movements now.

Norman collapsed on top of Otto, breathing heavily, grinning contentedly. His hands rubbed soothingly over the gashes he'd left.

"Mm... That was... interesting..." Otto murmured, an actuator sliding up and down the other man's back.

"I won." He sounded affectionately smug.

The scientist chuckled. "Perhaps this time..."

"You think you can do better?"

"Perhaps..." But right now he just felt lazy.

Norman chuckled and crawled up to lay beside him, relaxed and sated. "You'll get another chance."

"You'll have to get me up here again..." he smirked.

"Lab tables are surprisingly comfortable."

Otto raised an eyebrow, teasing. "And you know this because..."

"How much detail do you really want?"

"Now I'm really curious." Otto rolled on his side to face Norman.

The man looked insufferably pleased with himself. "A gentleman does not kiss and tell."

"Hm... Just tell me if it was your wife or not?"

"No, no."

Otto snorted. "So did you only remain married to her so she wouldn't try to take half of your stuff?"

He shrugged. "I married her because it was The Thing To Do. I remained married to her for the same reason."

After thinking about this for a moment, Otto nodded, shifted onto his back, and fell silent.

"And there was Harry."

Octavius crossed his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. "Wonder what happened to him..." Contemplative, but not particularly caring. "Didn't see him at the school..." And very little escaped his eye.

"He's in good hands." Norman didn't want to talk about it.

Otto let it drop. It wasn't like he really cared anyway. The kid had been a disruption in the lab more than once.

Norman curled against his side, kissing his shoulder once, lightly. He brushed fingers over the bite on Otto's neck. "Thank you."

This had been unexpected and Otto looked at him again, eyebrow raised. "For what?"

A one-shoulder shrug. He wasn't going to explain that, either.

As Otto lay in silence, his eyes drifted to the clock. It was getting a little late, it had been a long day, and he was rather tired. His tentacles snaked to his clothes and he started to slide off the bed.

Norman's hand tightened on his wrist. "Stay...."

"I like space when I sleep..."

"Stay." It wasn't a request.

"I like to sleep alone," Otto repeated. He wasn't going to back down from this one.

The hand tightened again for a moment, and then released. "Fine. Go."

He stood up, slipped into his pants, and walked out the door. There was another room he'd been scoping out as well, just down and across the hall. It was this one that he chose to sleep in.