Symbiotic Infatuation

Fortunately for New York City, it was a peaceful day and no superhuman assistance was required to ensure the wellbeing of the general populace. All unnatural threats were either contained, absent, or otherwise plotting so far into the future that the city's protector dared to assume it to be an easy day. No kids darted into the street, and there wasn't a mugging in sight. Even the weather was agreeable. Spider-Man's skyscraping rounds of the metropolis were almost boring that day, which he would retrospectively reason should have been warning enough that something was about to happen.

When he first saw Venom reflected in the glass exterior of the 90th floor of a towering architecture, the web-slinger's initial thought was self-assurance that he could not have been followed for long. Venom provided a heavyweight reminder of the importance of alertness, as his ability to circumvent the spider-sense encouraged Spider-Man to rely on his natural senses to alert him to danger as well. Thanks to Venom, Spider-Man regularly looked over his shoulder and peered around corners. Thanks to Venom, his day also became much more interesting, then.

Venom seemed aware of his discovery the moment it occurred, and as though waiting on cue, his voice boomed across the skyline, "You swing like an old lady, Parker. Don't drop your purse." Spider-Man picked up his pace, shooting web lines faster and swinging with greater velocity. Air blasted across his covered ears.

"Venom! Like this day needed a dark cloud" he returned. "Did you get tired of doing…whatever you do when you're not ruining everyone's day?"

Venom didn't answer, but increased the hustle of his own swinging. The sunshine threw an acrylic glean across his inky muscles as he pulled himself faster through the air, closing the distance between himself and his smaller rival. Adrenaline zapped through Spider-Man and his brow furrowed under his mask; Venom had an easier time catching him than almost all other goes when he was already swinging. He could feel the Symbiote and its host gaining even as he dropped altitude and swung 'round the corner of a high-rise, and expected the tug of dark webbing on his foot, waist, or the back of his elbow at any moment. When it didn't come and Venom still continued to advance, he prepared himself for the thud of a blow to the back of his head, but it didn't come either – neither did the arm looping itself around his torso and smashing him into the nearest building. Venom closed in further.

"What is this, bumper cars at 900 feet?" Spider-Man called. "Skyline sumo? Venom, please, either hit me or give me some -"

He was abruptly cut off when Venom reached out and slapped his butt, causing the slightest of ripples across his muscular glutes.

Behind the fearsome façade that enveloped, empowered, and enacted him, Eddie Brock grinned into the warm mass that was the alien's essence and Venom did the same. It was hard to tell where his emotions split from the Symbiote's, but there definitely was a divide. Their common feelings – abandonment, anger, and hatred of Spider-Man – had made them into such an unstoppable unit, but on the matter of their common foe, Eddie had noticed the emotions of his extraterrestrial guest growing complicated. There was still hatred, but that passionate emotion now formed only part of a complex root system of feelings. The Symbiote burned constantly for Spider-Man; it was fanatical in its fixation. It also dreamed for him. When Eddie joined his anger to the alien's, they roiled together, but now, he found the alien tempering its rage with yearning. When he indulged it and explored these feelings, it flooded his psyche with its own desire, making him think 'what if…'

What if we made him show us his rear?

Eddie had incentive to follow the parasite's lead. It rewarded him with adrenal pleasure for getting close to their object. When he spoke and made Spider-Man respond to them, it made his muscles tingle with the joy of fulfilled anticipation. And when he whapped Parker on his Lycra-covered hiney and made it jiggle ever so delicately, pure liquid delight overcame him – cruel and adoring at the same time - so that he salivated more than usual from their monstrous mouth.

Peter Parker wasn't so naïve to mistake a butt-smack with assault, especially when it came from a foe that could have sent him into orbit, but he still couldn't really believe it. He considered that this might yet be the precursor of a more serious attempt at pummeling, but why would someone who had already tried to kill him play games like that? He considered that it might also be a diversion, but the spider-sense alerted him to nothing and he heard no distant explosions or cries for help. Could it be that Venom was just bored and wanted to get at him?

"Alright, if that's the way you wanna play!" he said, turning in midair and offering twin blasts of his web shooters – anything more might have initiated a proper fight, which he would avoid if he could. "I mean, don't expect me to goose you back or anything."

Venom, who had fallen behind following the slap, caught the webbing in one of his enormous hands and discarded it before increasing his speed anew. Warmed up and not eager for another spanking, Spider-Man cut through the open air and led his foe on a chase between the buildings. Equal in speed and agility, the only thing that kept distance between the two even was ingenuity and reaction time: for every protruding flagpole that Spider-Man could swing around to reverse his direction, there was a penthouse that Venom could suddenly appear from behind of. The pursuit went on.

Spider-Man had grown fairly certain that Venom's harassment was as innocent as it could be for a monster, and that the best way to deal with it was to outlast him – to play along until Venom got bored and continued on to other pursuits. The tactic seemed to work when, between buildings, Venom seemed to disappear. Perching on a ledge of the Essex House, on the edge of Central Park, Spider-Man peered around for any sign of the Symbiote and saw nothing. Not even the sound of his body swooping through air.

"That Venom" the web-slinger said aloud, speaking to calm his heart rate. "You'd think that he'd at least finish these weird games he starts."

"We might yet" came the unwelcome voice from the underside of the ledge.

The enormous black hand reached up and snared around Spider-Man's ankles, tight as a titanium lasso. Spider-Man's fingertips left long, gouged marks in the concrete as he attempted to cling to his perch, before he hung upside-down, 400 feet over the street. Below, an audience gathered with upturned faces.

"All right, Venom" Spider-Man groaned, looking across at the park; in his strung-up position, he faced away from his captor. "What now? What do you want?"

Venom didn't answer verbally, and instead leaned forward and bit his most hated crush on the ass.

Happiness, oily and sleazy, crackled through the Symbiote's body, giving Eddie an incredible high. If this was all he had to do to feel this good, then he'd catch Peter on a regular basis. He'd turn his head sideways and fill his oversized mouth with the breadth of that rear, huffing his humid breath over the costume until it outlined that runner's booty that their enemy possessed until it was outlined so perfectly that Spider-Man might as well be naked. The Symbiote reeled with delight as Eddie played along. They both agreed that, if viewed from the right angle, Spider-Man's butt had the shape of a plump apple.

The Symbiote's bite could be as deadly as its name suggested, but the fangs didn't pierce either flesh or spandex. It was a very controlled bite, regardless of how indulgently the fangs dimpled the flesh of his athletically appealing rear, and Spider-Man knew that he would be feeling a lot less comfortable if Venom had properly chomped down, but that didn't keep Peter's eyes from widening with rapined shock behind his mask.

"Venom! What the-!"

He no longer hung passively, but pulled himself as upright as he could, bending at the waist and trying to bring his posterior as far away from his fixated foe as he could. He clutched at Venom's wrist and looked into the monster's face, where he found the malicious grin wider than ever, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth and dripping with evil-looking saliva.

"Cut it out, Venom" he demanded, buying time while trying to figure out an escape from the perverted clutches. "For the love of- There are kids watching us, down there!"

"Their parents will have some explaining to do after this, eh, Parker?" Venom replied, his voice so tremulous with delight that it made Spider-Man's skin crawl.

"You're gonna quit this right now, Venom" he said. "I'm not about to stand for it."

He had a witty follow-up planned, but Venom beat him to the retort: "Fine, we'll make you lie down for it."

Eddie felt the Symbiote thrill in triumphant delight to having visibly stunned Spider-Man with its quip. Almost always, the parasite and he thought, spoke, and acted in near-unison, but that particular comeback had been entirely its own design and delivery.

Venom drew Spider-Man closer to his body and stuck his face out to him, rumbling in mockingly tender tones, "You make it very easy to be a bad guy." Then he flung the web-slinger from him to sail over the street. Before Spider-Man could fire a line of webbing, Venom loosed a snare that pinioned his arms to his sides.

"Oh boy, this is gonna hurt" Peter thought to himself, as he careened in a low arc towards the green of Central Park, unable to stop his fall.

But it didn't, really. A billowing maple softened his descent, so that after he had tumbled through the branches and fell towards the grass, the most the fall had done was knock the wind out of him. He had a moment's reprieve before the crashing of foliage foretold Venom catching up to him. His adversary exploded through the red leaves and met him in the shade beneath, landing over him on all fours like an overeager dog the size of a gorilla.

Venom's breath was always questionable, but the smell that struck Spider-Man more was his excited aroma. It was harder to detect from inside the Symbiote, as he knew from experience, but he had smelled it on Venom before, usually when he had been sure he was about to do in his opponent. Like on the island. Venom smelled high and wild, like overripe fruit become fumes.

"You only have yourself to blame for this, Parker. It's not our fault you make us feel this way. It's not our fault you have such a tight butt."

In their collective memory, Eddie felt what it was like to be form-fit against Peter Parker's athletic buttocks. The Symbiote's recollections of the superhero's thighs flexing with muscles whenever he tensed was as intimate a feeling as its host could be privy to. He knew what it was like to be liquid against their enemy's neck, coated across his chest, spread over his lower back, and filling in the hollows of his thighs. He knew what Peter's pubic hair felt like, and felt special to have collected his perspiration. Going along with the alien's arousal made him appreciate these things, and he leaned down and licked the bound Spider-Man across his throat and chin.

Venom's saliva dripped down the fabric of Spider-Man's costume, and the web-slinger stared up at his horror-faced admirer. Venom had made much of the situation clear; there was no ambiguity left, and it rendered Spider-Man speechless. Venom knew his rival's body language and knew that he had shocked him again; this was delightful to no end, but the silence had become ongoing. It seemed to confuse Venom and place him on edge. Venom's pupil-less eyes narrowed in agitation, and he was about to snap for an explanation when Spider-Man finally spoke.

"Brock. This is officially weird" said Spider-Man, his voice deadpan. "I never saw this coming from you."

Venom pulled away, his mouth closing for the first time in recent memory, his tongue disappearing entirely, and he frowned crookedly.

"What did you say?" he snarled, his tone outraged all of the sudden. "You must want to get pummeled!"

But instead of commencing the beating, he stood up and backed away, clearly stressed and angry. The mood had been broken.

"You!" he growled, pointing a claw at the grounded Spider-Man. "Better watch out. Next time you and your tight butt won't get off so easy."

Raging frustration made the Symbiote feel hot around Eddie as they leapt back into the tree before sending a line of webbing at the nearest building and building themselves into a swing, leaving Spider-Man to wriggle free of his bonds. The alien fumed at its host for letting himself be shamed out of getting what they wanted, and Eddie was angry at his parasite for driving him to something like this. In their asynchronous state, the sexual harassment of Spider-Man seemed as taboo to him as it would to most other people. He was glad that none of the people who had seen him bite Spider-Man's butt knew who he was.

The Symbiote's fury carried on for ten blocks, then began to ebb into exhausted tiredness, like a child who had run out of energy to continue a tantrum. Eddie hoped this was the end of the whole shameful situation. But as he swung off the main street and into an avenue shadowed from the sun, the alien offered up a promising compromise…

Next time, we will take him where no one else can see. And he won't be able to say anything to us, if he's gagged.

The End