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Chapter 23: After Party With Tate McRae
The arena pulsed with energy as Tate McRae took center stage for her final song. The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices merging into a deafening roar as the beat dropped. The flashing neon lights bathed the stage in shifting hues of blue and violet, casting dramatic shadows that danced with every movement she made.
The outfit she wore for her finale left very little to the imagination—a bedazzled black laced bra and matching panties that revealed every curve as she turned, exuding confidence with each step she took. Her blonde highlights flowed behind her, lifted by the fans that lined the edge of the stage, adding to the dreamlike spectacle. Her long, tanned legs strutted with effortless grace, each step precise. The way they glistened from the lighting sent waves of excitement through the audience.
The crowd swayed in unison, arms reaching toward her as she sang the final chorus. The bass vibrated through the floor, syncing with the pounding of thousands of hearts lost in the music. Every woman wanted to be her, and every man wanted to be with her. Camera flashes lit up the arena like a starlit sky, capturing the moment as she extended a hand toward her fans, connecting with them through her voice.
Backstage, Peter Parker stood in the shadows, his eyes locked onto her. The symbiote coiled within him, feeding off the energy in the room. The raw passion, the attention she commanded—it was intoxicating. The performance was mesmerizing, but the hunger growing inside him was something far more primal.
As the final note echoed through the stadium, Tate struck a pose, basking in the adoration of her fans. The applause thundered like a storm, shaking the walls. She flashed a dazzling smile before disappearing behind the curtains, the anticipation in the air lingering like static electricity.
Peter clenched his fists. He had a backstage pass. And he was going to use it.
Tate McRae strode offstage, her body still humming with the adrenaline of the performance. The heat of the lights clung to her skin as she grabbed a sheer, oversized top from a nearby rack, slipping it over her toned frame. The fabric draped loosely, barely concealing the shimmering outfit beneath, as she made her way toward the backstage lounge, where a handful of lucky fans waited eagerly for a chance to meet her.
As she moved through the hallway, she passed Peter Parker. He leaned casually against the wall, hands in his pockets, watching her with a confidence that made him stand out from the rest. There was something about him—an undeniable pull in the air. She inhaled, catching the subtle scent that lingered around him, a mix of something dark, intoxicating, almost irresistible. It was enough to make her slow her stride, her eyes flicking back to meet his for the briefest moment before she pushed forward, shaking off the odd sensation.
For the next several minutes, Tate signed posters, snapped photos, and exchanged a few kind words with the lucky fans who had been ushered backstage. She was used to the excitement, the constant buzz of attention—but her thoughts kept drifting back to the stranger in the hallway. There was an energy about him, something different, something that made her pulse quicken.
As the last of the fans were guided toward the exit, Tate caught Peter lingering near the back of the room. On impulse, she stopped him with a playful smirk.
"Hey," she said, tilting her head. "You in a hurry?"
Peter raised an eyebrow, the symbiote thrumming inside him, urging him to play along. "Not at all."
Her lips curled into a grin. "Good. You wanna stay a little longer? Maybe have a drink?"
Peter's smile was slow, deliberate. "I would be delighted."
Tate chuckled, nodding toward a private lounge area. "Come on, then. I think I deserve a little celebration."
As she turned, leading him toward the quieter part of the venue, Peter followed, staring through the sheer garment at her perfect ass, the symbiote whispering in his mind, feeding off the moment. This was going to be interesting.
As they sat at a table with a bench seat, Tate let out a soft sigh as she slipped off her heels, stretching her legs out with a satisfied smile. She poured two glasses of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the dim backstage lighting. A playful smirk crossed her lips as she raised her glass toward Peter.
"Cheers to a fantastic night," she toasted, the ice clinking gently as she tapped her glass against his.
Peter met her gaze, his smile slow and knowing. "To you," he replied smoothly, before taking a sip.
One drink led to another, and soon, the air between them grew warmer, laced with a playful energy. Tate leaned back against the cushioned bench, her posture relaxed, confidence radiating from her. With a teasing grin, she lifted her legs onto Peter's lap, the smooth length of her skin brushing against him.
"Tell me," she mused, eyes half-lidded as she swirled the liquid in her glass, "do you like my legs?" Her voice was playful, but there was something deeper beneath the words—a curiosity, an unspoken challenge.
Peter's fingers traced along her calves, his touch feather-light but deliberate. "They're... flawless and smooth," he murmured, his voice lower now, laced with something magnetic. He let his fingertips travel slowly upward, a teasing caress against the silky skin of her thighs.
Tate hummed in approval, eyes flickering over his face, as if trying to decipher something about him—something elusive, almost intoxicating. Was it the drinks, or was it him? She wasn't sure. But at that moment, she didn't care.
"You should lie on your stomach," Peter insisted. "This way I can give you a proper massage."
Tate was happy to oblige, taking off her sheer garment and rolling over, exposing her backside.
Peter gently began massaging the balls of her feet, the circular motion sending a pleasurable feeling pulsating through her entire body.
He gradually made his way to her heels and toned calves. Soft moans escaped her with each movement. He was enjoying it just as much as she was because her backside was nicely curved with a perfect apple-bottom ass staring him right in his face.
He rubbed his hands up her tanned thighs until he met her toned cheeks, gently squeezing the muscles that made up her sculpted booty. "I need to make sure I get every muscle," he teased, grabbing as much of a handful as he could.
In order to properly massage the arch of her back, he straddled her hips, placing the bulge in his pants perfectly between her ass cheeks.
He proceeded to use his thumbs to put pressure on her spine, rotating them in a circular motion as he continued upward between her shoulder blades, undoing her bra straps in the same motion. Soon after that, Tate felt the ecstasy from his gentle neck squeeze.
Peter knelt forward, pressing his chest against her back. She could feel his bulge growing as he began to kiss the backside of her neck.
"Oh. Someone is getting excited," she said softly, lifting her ass slightly to press a bit harder against his manhood.
That was all the invite he needed.
As he continued moving downward, he took hold of her black laced panties and ripped them off in one forceful tug. "Oh, my," she gasped. "You are strong."
He opened her legs just enough to rub her inner thigh, gradually making his way toward her pussy lips. The warmth met his fingers as he began to stroke her labia side to side and up and down, allowing for the wetness to escape her vagina. And then, when his fingers were moist enough, he stuck two of them in her wet, warm pussy, slowly and softly caressing her inner walls.
Tate began to squirm as Peter's fingers moved more rapidly, the pleasure was becoming more and more intense because of the special nubs on his fingertips—to the point she was gushing with wetness.
Finally, her pussy tightened as a massive orgasm erupted. Peter wasted no time with his next move, straddling her hips and plunging his rock hard penis deep inside of her. Tate's back arched from the thrust, not realizing it was going to be that big.
While her back was arched, Peter reached around and grabbed a handful of titties, pulling her closer to him, allowing him to thrust his hips even harder. "Oh, my god. That feels so good," she moaned.
After she had another orgasm, she told him she wanted to be on top for a while. Peter sat up, relaxing his back against the bench seat, and allowed her to reposition herself.
Tate didn't immediately jump on. Instead, she lowered her head down and began sucking on the head of his dick, moving her tongue around in a circular motion. Peter grew another inch just from the arousal.
She then took both of her hands and began jerking him off while simultaneously bobbing her head up and down, allowing her saliva to lubricate his shaft.
Peter put both of his hands on her head, guiding it up and down. Every-now-and-then he would push her head down a little too far, causing her to gag from his penis going into her throat. Peter couldn't help it because her tonsils felt good as the head glided past them.
Drool oozed from her mouth as she lifted her head off of his penis. She then repositioned herself on top of him, straddling his waist, and slowly lowering herself down onto his cock. She could feel every inch as it hit the cervix, adding that much more pleasure to the experience.
Peter grabbed her ass–cheeks, guiding her hips back-and-forth in a grinding motion. She then took control, swirling her hips around, allowing his penis to touch every wall.
Peter leaned forward and began sucking on her supple breasts—her nipples poking out, giving his lips something to grab hold of. He flicked them softly with his tongue, causing Tate's back to arch way back, her head bobbing as if she was riding a bull.
The excitement was so powerful, Peter stood up—while still inside her, he laid her down onto the table, causing their drinks to splash down onto the floor. He then began ramming it home as hard as he could, the entire table shifting back-and-forth as he thrusted his pelvis.
Then, the unthinkable happened. The symbiote decided to take shape. For a moment, Tate's eyes were closed as she enjoyed the pleasure of being fucked hard. But then she felt Peter growing even bigger inside of her. That's when she opened her eyes to find a black symbiote with huge white eyes staring back at her.
She tried to scream, but the symbiote's tendrils lashed out, muffling her mouth. Then, the tendrils branched out, latching onto the ceiling, and lifting both of them up from off the ground. It now looked as if she was in a swing.
The symbiote's tongue stretched out, licking her tits wildly. Despite the initial fright, Tate was actually starting to get off from the thrusting motion, the swing position making it that much more intense.
Just then, a sudden event startled the symbiote before anything else could happen.
"There it is!" a manly voice yelled out.
The symbiote turned to look. It was Mr. Fantastic, and he was holding an enormous weapon in his hands.
WHOOM! He fired it.
A sonic blast pulsated through the symbiote, causing it to shriek in pain while letting go of Tate at the same time.
Sue caught Tate in a force field bubble before she could hit the ground.
The symbiote tried to lash out with its tendrils, but Reed continued blasting it with the sonic waves, sending ripples through its tar-like substance.
As the blasts tore the symbiote apart, the symbiote revealed Peter inside.
The symbiote was further destabilized by the Human Torch as he shot flames at it.
Soon, the symbiote had become too weak to resist, causing it to ooze off of Peter, leaving Peter completely naked and unconscious.
Reed quickly trapped the symbiote in an impenetrable container. "I've got you now, you bastard," he declared.
Ben Grimm rushed over to Peter's side and covered him up. He then picked him up off the ground and carried him away to their vehicle.
They were taking both Peter and the symbiote back to their lab for more testing. Their goal was to completely clear Peter of the alien compound.
Johnny was happy to stay with Tate until she was feeling better. He, too, had the hots for her. (no pun intended)