Black Sustenance
by Famira Damaris

Disclaimer: Surprise surprise, I don't own Spider-man.
Author Notes: Basically just did this as a last-minute decision to enter a Spider-man slash contest. I didn't think I'd have enough time to do fanart, so I did this...and then I find out there was an extension to the contest. Oops. Anyway, just like...drabblish. Masturbation. Lame title. xP No it's not canon.

Edit Decided to make this multi-part.

Italics for thoughts/emphasis/symbiote
Archive: Sure, just ask.

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Black Sustenance
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(Prologue)

They were starting to lust.

It was a foreign concept to the symbiote. Eddie Brock was familiar with it, but it was of the body only. Once he'd longed for deeper things, more meaningful things, but after the divorce, he'd tried to just bury himself in his work. And look where that got us. Not far; he'd gotten screwed over by both the Daily Bugle and by Peter Parker. By Spider-man.

The Spider.

They wanted the Spider. More than anything else, they wanted him.

Eddie Brock got to his feet, the springs from the worn bed squeaking quietly under his naked body. The derelict apartment wasn't a particularly choice place to live, but it served their purposes. He only stayed here to sleep and otherwise service himself in private, without unnecessary interruptions. The fact that it was abandoned made it that much easier. Rain ran in uneven trails down the window, trickling over the graffiti scratch marks on the glass and out of sight. Gray light from the street lamps outside pervaded the small room.

Both the symbiote and Eddie liked the rain, if for different reasons. Rain to the symbiote was an efficient process, one that it admired as it observed the cycle of its fall. Rain was self-perpetuating. Self-perpetuating like the symbiote: just as ancient and just as unrelenting. Rain was also good on their skin, cooled them down when the symbiote exerted itself or when something excited them. Rain didn't make marks. Rain was predictable.

The Spider wasn't.

Eddie didn't understand it. By all rights, he should hate the Spider - for destroying his life as Peter Parker and stamping on his grave as Spider-man. But it was hate spawned by envy. Parker had it all: a job, a girl, powers that few possessed. True, he also had his own share of problems, but so did everyone else. Envy made his hate weak. Was part of the reason why he lusted now.

"Can't do it," Eddie muttered, staring into the bleak gloom. He'd gotten into a habit of talking to himself recently; a part of him still needed to hear human voices. "We can't kill him."

We don't need to.

"We don't like doing unnecessary things."

No, we don't. We don't need to kill him. We don't want to.

"So why…?"

Eddie already knew the symbiote's answer. It was just toying with the Spider. Feeding off Eddie's emotions and tying those in with the intimate understanding it already had of Peter Parker, it found enjoyment in such antics. But eventually the game would have to end. And if they wouldn't – couldn't – kill the Spider, then…

"He'll be ours?"

We'll make him ours. Mark him like he marked us first.

At these words, a dull heat burned in Eddie. The symbiote reacted to this by sending out a black tendril from his naked wrist. He watched in the window's reflection as it snaked up to caress his face softly. His eyes closed as the symbiote continued to touch his cheek. It wasn't just his spite talking. Eddie did want to ruin Parker, stain him beyond any amount of cleansing. They found Parker enthralling, from the way his mind worked to his extraordinary body. Everything about him was just as desirable as it was hateful.

Mark him. They would mark him completely.

They were territorial among other things.

The symbiote was extending another inky tendril now, touching other parts of his body. It serviced him whenever he required it. At first he'd been hotly embarrassed and used to brush the symbiote away frantically until he got tired of it and let it do what it wanted. But now he only leaned against the rain streaked window and spread his legs expectantly. It was useless to fight it when they needed tension released. At least until they found a better outlet. No sense in getting embarrassed about natural needs.

All that was expected of him was to think of their desires while he was serviced. At first it had been everyone but Spider-man. Eddie refused to sully himself by thinking of him while wanking off. It used to be images of women, sometimes of his ex-wife, sometimes of just a body of curves with no face. But those didn't satisfy enough. So one night he tried thinking of the Spider. It had worked beautifully, even though his mental fantasies were violent and ended with the Spider lying in some alley in a puddle of his own blood.

But that was before they knew the Spider's death wasn't what they lusted for.

Eddie's lips parted to let the symbiote enter his mouth. It entered him like a warm tongue as the darkness oozed down toward his nether-regions. His body buzzed with pleasure and he arched into the alien's touch. Eddie kept his eyes closed as the symbiote paused near his hips and spread his legs for him a bit in preparation even as another tendril teased his length into hardness.

The Spider will be ours. Ours alone.

And it was only images of Spider-man that danced across his mental eyes. He had only to let the symbiote cover him and suddenly they were no longer the symbiote or Eddie Brock, but Venom, powerful beyond reckoning, a black, hulking form of muscle with claws, fangs and a snaking tongue.

Spider-man was trapped in the dead end of an alley in this scenario. No distractions. No police.

Nothing in this fantasy to come between him and the Spider.

Spider-man feinted to the right but Venom followed him to the left as he bounded up the brick wall with inhuman agility. Venom could feel the fear radiating out from his prey as Parker led him on a futile chase about the empty city. Fear from Parker made Venom drunk with adrenaline. His fear was so beautiful it was a work of art.

There were no smartass remarks. Venom had come to learn that the more Parker talked, the more afraid he really was. But this time there was too much fear and the Spider knew he wouldn't be able to escape this time. For a few minutes, Venom pursued him, crawling up skyscrapers and lunging off into open space after Spider-man when he leaped off. The free-fall was exhilarating, as was the jolt as Venom extended his hand and shot a thick strand of web after his prey, who was swinging around a corner of another building in the artificial canyon.

"Ours, Spider!" Venom bellowed mockingly after Parker. "Only ours!"

Parker said nothing. He only continued to flee.

It was near Central Park that Spider-man finally made his mistake. He moved a second too slow, an inch too far to the right. His fired strand of web sailed through the cold night air without making contact and he started to fall. And that was when Venom swept in behind him and crushed him to his chest with one arm. Spider-man squirmed frantically in his grip as they set down within the enormous park.

Venom's chest heaved with excitement as he bound Spider-man's hands up above his head with webbing to a tree trunk. The Spider responded with a kick that would've taken off a normal human's head. The black Symbiote only gave a low, husky laugh at the dull stinging from his neck. Pleasure was assaulting him from all corners as he bound Spider-man's legs like he had his arms. His prey struggled fitfully. He froze when he felt Venom's claws resting on his head.

"Honestly, Spider. Why do you wear this silly thing? We already know what's behind it," Venom said, voice scolding. With one smooth motion, he pulled the mask off. "You can't fool us."

Peter flinched as the mask slid off and ducked his head away instinctively. This only merited another laugh as Venom cupped the Spider's chin in his claws and forced him to look up. Brown eyes. Innocent brown eyes. If Venom didn't know him inside out, he wouldn't be able to believe that Peter was marked, that he was even the Spider. Peter always looked younger without the silly disguise. Younger especially now since from the neck down, he still wore the skin-tight uniform of Spider-man.

"One again, Spider," Venom breathed. His tongue wormed out between his fangs and worked its way around Peter's neck.

"Let go!" Peter struggled again. He only succeeded in tiring himself out and sagged against the webbing that bound him to the tree.

"Not this time. Not ever. We need you more than ever."

In a distant place outside of this fantasy, Eddie knew he was coming close to completion of the servicing; Venom in the vision was giddy with the pleasure, head throbbing. And for the first time, Venom wanted the Spider to feel an inkling of what it would feel to be one again, give him a teasing little taste. It would be brutal – it was always brutal, no matter how gentle the black Symbiote tried to be – but there would no blood. No blank blue eyes staring up blindly at him as death took Peter when Venom finished with him.

Being one obviously couldn't work if what they desired was dead. And besides, while killing the Spider was a beautiful thing in itself, it was a one-time occurrence. Maybe if Venom could do it over and over again, each time a different method, he'd think differently. But union between him and the Spider was just as good. Better, even.

Venom continued to tease Peter with his tongue, with his fangs, and letting his fear flare out once more until he couldn't summon the strength to struggle or twist his head away. Soon he could only pant in exhaustion, head bowed as Venom raked his claws along the red and blue uniform. It shredded easily.

After that, the union was easy. Far easier than it had any right to be. Technically, it didn't require the same kind of servicing that Eddie enjoyed from time to time, but that didn't matter. Might as well make the most of a trussed-up Spider.

Venom entered Peter the same way the symbiote entered Eddie. The boy tensed at the alien intrusion, his whole body straining against his bonds as Venom ran his claws along his naked skin, hissing, taking care not to damage him further. Peter tried to back into the tree behind him, close his legs together but it was easy to push him back into a desirable position. And as the symbiote began to stretch out and envelop the trapped Spider, Venom continued to pump into Peter, tongue rolling in pure, blinding pleasure. Peter was crying out, mouth open but no sound coming out.

Even killing Peter over and over again couldn't compare with both the servicing and the union.

A brief burst of white in his field of vision blinded him and suddenly the fantasy ended. Eddie sagged against the window, drained. Images of Peter straining against him and the black symbiote crawling up to his neck faded away and were gone before he could recapture them. Pleasure was still there, but nowhere near the intensity as earlier. As usual, disappointment washed over him.

Soon this wasn't going to be enough.

We want the real thing.

Eddie sat down, leaning against the window sill. A bit sore still, tired too. But he wouldn't even have to wash himself off: it wasn't like before, when he'd done all this with his own hands. This was a lot neater, more intense. But more disappointing too now that he found himself obsessing over one person. It wasn't as easy, when he could just imagine bodies without faces or personalities. In his tunnel vision, all Eddie could see was the Spider.

Eddie looked down. Heat was collecting again and already pooling into the beginnings of another erection.

"We need him soon." The symbiote crept up to cover him. He watched as his hands darkened and sprouted black claws.

Yes. Soon. Because soon servicing wouldn't work, and Eddie would start acting without a plan. If he wasn't careful, he might accidentally kill the very thing they lusted after. The darkness continued to spread until Eddie no longer sat in the ruined, damp apartment. Venom glanced about the apartment. Rain was leaking through the cracked roof. Its use as a shelter was running thin. Soon they would have to find a more suitable location. And solve the problem concerning the growing need to be one. Without constant servicing, Venom would eventually act without meaning to. It wouldn't do to kill Peter Parker.

A dead Spider was no good to them.

End
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Yep, pretty short. Not sure if I'll do another Spidey fic - my knowledge of Spidey is foggy since last time I followed it was like, five or more years ago. xx; Damn movies for reviving the fandomness:p