A/N: This is the Pleasnt Proding Spike writing for the The Love of Our Lust. This is a Challenge fic dedicated to Myra Hellsing. There will be random faces as scene breaks. Please, don't think too much of them. No haters or the like. This is purely my idea of fun. Btw, I am no good with summaries. This is the epilogue, or last part, to this little romp. It will not be left on a happy note. SO, if not to your liking, it can be stopped at the second part. For whatever reason, I sprinkled in a bit of realism here, not that it needs it. -shrug-

Warning: This will contain man on man sex. Lots of sex. Lots of mention of the word sex. And physical sex. There will be plenty of sex. If this is not to your liking, especially for the pairings Eddie Brock/Peter Parker, Venom/Spiderman, this is the wrong fanfiction for you. I suggest going back and finding something else. Thank you.

Summary: Our favorite webhead is bored out of his mind when Venom makes an entrance. Deciding to follow him, Spiderman is going further down the rabbit hole than he will care to admit.

Disclaimer: I own neither Spiderman or any of their human counterparts. Dreams can abound, but it will never happen. I'm happy to take no credit except for the idea to throw all of the random crackyness together in a sex store.

The Challenge: Don't Play with Me

Waking in a daze, Peter groaned at the dull drumming in his temples. So much noise when it was deathly quiet. Shaking his head to scatter the cobwebs, he sat up and yelped at the sharp pain lancing his backside. Frowning the uncomfortable twinge, he tried to remember what had happened and felt the answer dance elusively out of reach.

Shrugging it off for later contemplation, the hero winced out of bed and colored at his lack of clothing. It wasn't improbable, but he rarely did it when waking up so late in the day. Skirting over to his dresser, he opened a drawer and perused the contents, settling on a loose pair of sweatpants for the meantime. Stretching his back to pop the kinks out of place, he shuffled to the bathroom and unceremoniously peed into the porcelain bowl.

Moving to the faucet as the water was suctioned away, he scrubbed his hands lightly and sighed at his fog-laced brain. Glancing at his reflection, he looked back to turn the faucet off and paused. Staring at himself sharply, he jumped back against the wall and balked at the wounds littering his pale frame. Heart hammering, he crept closer to the mirror, almost afraid that it would reach out and bite him. Hesitantly touching his neck where a bite mark lay, he winced at the flare of nerve damage and discoloration.

Peter stilled at the implication and felt his stomach roll. No. He came back home last night. He had to. Backing away from his haunted image, the hero fled the bathroom and stalked around his bed, checking the corners and any hiding places that he could find. There was no one here. No one at all.

Slowly moving to his bedroom door, he noted that the door was open, which he never allowed to happen. Glancing out before he moved around the frame, the living room and kitchen were peacefully quiet, seemingly undisturbed. Flicking his gaze to the television, it was on and left on some news channel or another. Sweeping his gaze over the space again, nothing was out of place. Scratching the back of his head at the unsettling paranoia, Peter stepped closer to the screen and picked up the remote from the couch arm. Turning the volume up, he watched as a newscaster faded off screen to show a video clipping from last night. The camera view settled completely on a shut door in a poorly lit alley. Police shifted around the picture, guns drawn and trained on the door. Suddenly the frame burst outward, sending fragments and a messy array of paraphernalia into the shot. The camera was hastily moved as gunshots were fired at the disconcertingly black doorway. Roiling out and attacking the closest gunmen, the symbiote known as Venom appeared and roared at the camera, earning quite a few screams of terror. Climbing the wall of the alley almost too fast for the camera, he disappeared into the night with a few more shots at his retreating frame for good measure. The video was magically rewinded and paused at a short interval when Venom first emerged. Tucked into his arms was a person, almost too covered by the symbiote to be able to tell who. Almost.

As if to taunt Peter's imperceptibly shaking body, the camera zoomed in and caught a flash of red and blue, unmistakably calling out Spiderman to the world. The video disappeared and the newscaster came back, an evil glint in the eyes.

"When the world was looking for Spiderman for help, who was there to help Spiderman? That's the news for now. Back to you, Kent."

Without realizing his actions, Peter had thrown the remote hard enough to break through the screen, sparks and angry pops sounding out at the rather rude way to turn it off. Tucking his mind back into a safe haven, Peter shook his head and walked to the kitchen. A glass of water would make the world stop spinning out of control around him. All he needed was a glass of water.

Someone was watching him. They had to be close. His spider sense had the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Whirling around to glare at his apartment, the harmless couch and bedroom greeted his stare. Still nothing. Balling his hands into fists, he moved into the kitchen.

Smelling the fresh, crispy scent of bacon had his stomach grumbling and his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. Why is it that the smell of bacon could terrify him so much? Glancing at the counter, he stiffened at the hot plate of food left there for him to find. Eying the area around him before stepping closer, he looked over the contents. Breakfast items filled the plate, a cute smiley face arrangement making him feel sick. A note was propped up behind the plate by invisible means, drawing his immediate attention.

Plucking the paper from its rest, the hero froze at the sight of the garishly bright cock ring, standing in all its large glory. Quickly scanning the note, Peter's face blanched before a rush of blood brought rage to the surface. Crashing his arm onto the counter, a yell of frustration and a hint of fear bubbled to the surface as he flung the contents across the kitchen.

Flinching as a shadow moved, Peter fell nerveless to the floor, eyes roving over every surface. Knowing that he couldn't find anything out of the ordinary, the hero couldn't let go of the gnawing terror clutching his heart. A shuddering sigh rocked his body as he curled into himself, hiding his head in his arms.

The note fluttered to the floor, letters too black against the stark white background. 'I'll never let you go,' glared mockingly up at the sole occupant of the room.


Outside Peter Parker's bedroom window, Eddie Brock sat on the deceptively small ledge, listening to the sudden stillness in the apartment. Feeling the cool tendrils of Venom returning to him, he sighed contentedly and felt the somber felling of Peter's pain pool into his mind. He will learn to accept his predicament and enjoy the pleasures that they would bring him. A fact, as the symbiote placed it.

Except…knowing the pain and seeing it on that open face stung the dark pair. Venom slithered to the surface, taking over to let Eddie grieve in silence. Peter would be the one and only. Always and forever. He had no choice.

"Mine…" the symbiote hissed into the bright cheery glare of the sun. It careened away from their crying precious, hurtling toward the street before effortlessly swinging away on black webbing. They would be back and next time, they would stay.