Title: His Pound Of Flesh
Rating: M for adult situations, violence and sexual content
Word Count: 707
Disclaimer: These characters and their film incarnations are the sole property of Stan Lee, Steve Ditko, Marvel Entertainment, and Sony Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended, no disrespect is meant, and no profit will ever be made.
Summary: Movie-verse; spoilers for SM3. There were a million ways to break a man's spirit.
Warnings: NCS. H/C. Violence. Angst. Might be triggering for some.
Archive?: Only with permission.
Author's Note: Written for the multi-fandom Comment Fic-A-Thon "Porn Battle VII: The Seven Deadly Sins", hosted by Oxoniensis at Dreamwidth. This is not a nice, "feel good" story in any shape or form, so heed all warnings carefully before choosing to proceed.
Be Aware! This is an edited version, revised to comply with FFN's Ratings and Content Policies. The original, unexpurgated work will ONLY be archived at LiveJournal. You will need to be a site member who is 18 years old or older to read it there. Thanks for your understanding!
...
..
.
There were a million ways to break a man, his father said; ways to wound your enemies that didn't show on the surface. And as Harry withdraws, pulling Peter's knees up higher before moving forward again, he wonders if this was the elegant solution his father had meant.
I'm like this because of you.
Harry's hands are wrapped around Peter's neck, and he forces himself in even deeper. The fight must have truly weakened him, for he puts forth little resistance once Harry gains the upper hand. Harry longs for the struggle, to hear him cry out...but the acrid scent of panicked sweat hovering in the air is enough to send his mind dancing with sinister glee.
I'm inside you now...and you'll never be free of me. Never.
Peter's stare doesn't waver, even when the veins in his neck begin to bulge, and Harry is overjoyed to see teardrops sparkle and run across Peter's face.
Finally! This was his triumph, his pound of flesh.
So why did he feel so empty?
Harry stops moving, regarding his prey carefully. Something wasn't right.
The look in Peter's dry eyes isn't one of sadness, but of pity. It makes the beast inside him recoil in horror.
Was it because...the tears now falling were his own?
Harry brings a hand to his face, shocked to feel the wetness clinging to his cheeks, dripping from his chin onto Peter's face below.
Impossible! Stunned, he releases his hold. Tears? For my father's killer?
Peter leans up then, reaching for him in a slow and languid movement, and Harry shrinks back. "No!" He wants to run, wants to die, anything but be where he is now...but the tongue that's gently lapping his tears away keeps him frozen in place.
"It's okay," Peter whispers, labored breath hot against Harry's skin. Then he shifts the balance.
Flat on his back, Harry breaches the gate in one stroke, all gritty and rough and like nothing that ever was. Peter gasps, slamming both his hands upon the floor beside Harry's shoulders to brace himself, then begins a slow but steady movement, thighs trembling, the sensations playing havoc on his self-control.
"Look at me," he demands, clutching Harry's hair, pulling hard at his scalp. And Harry does, just as Peter leans over him, shaking, head hung down as he sways back and forth, back and forth.
Over and over they rut, hard and furious, picking up speed until Peter chokes and comes to a halt, throwing his head back as his climax overtakes him. Harry doesn't give up the chase, teeth biting down hard enough to crack his caps, pulling Peter forcefully against his rubbed-raw skin...and the resulting explosion when he finally comes is so fierce that he feels as if his life were being swept along with it.
It purges him. The madness is gone.
But as Harry becomes fully aware of what he has done, and what he had tried to do, he feels Peter's fist connect with his jaw. The punch holds all the power of the superhuman behind it, and the force sends Harry rolling away from Peter and onto his stomach.
And Harry's world goes back to black again.
.
.
Harry wasn't sure how long he was out, but it was enough time for Peter to compose himself, so that when he comes to and rolls over he sees his foe now standing over him fully-dressed, street clothes hiding what little remained of his costume. Peter Parker was whole again.
Harry turns away, disgusted by his failure. The crackling fireplace proves a welcome distraction, an excuse for not saying a word.
"This doesn't change anything," Peter asks him. "Does it?"
Harry doesn't answer, only stares at the shapes the flames make with an empty gaze.
He hears the great windows swing open behind him, the wind catching in the heavy drapes as they are pushed aside...then nothing. And he is alone in his prison again, two kinds of fluid congealing on his clammy skin.
Harry curls up into a ball against the chill of the night air, forehead to his knees, whimpering softly as the city moves and his mind burns and the world grows even smaller around him.
...
..
.
~finis~