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Poison-Kissed Spider	By : AnansiScribe Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Crossovers Views: 7695 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man, Final Fight, Street Fighter, or any of the characters and properties associated with them. They are the property of Marvel Comics and Capcom, and I make no money nor receive other material compensation for

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
“Poison-Kissed Spider”
Chapter 3: “Poison of My Heart”
Disclaimer: Spider-Man and all associated characters, items, and locations belong to Marvel Comics, Marvel Animation, and Sony/Columbia Pictures. Poison and all sundry associated characters, items, and locations belong to Capcom. I make no money whatsoever from the use of any of the characters or properties mentioned or appearing in this story, nor do I receive any other material compensation thereof. I’m just a fanfic author who’ll be perfectly satisfied with feedback from his readers and fans.
Author’s note: Well, Christmas time has come and this will be my present to my dear Amazing Shrinking Violet, late as it may be. This will also be the final chapter of this story, as Spider-Man and Poison finally do the deed . . . but will Poison’s secret get in the way of their budding romance? Let’s find out, shall we?
It had been an eventful swing back to Poison’s place. It hadn’t taken all that long, given the speed with which Spider-Man moved, but Poison whispering in his ear and grinding herself against his back while protectively webbed to it so she wouldn’t fall off in the middle of a downswing or upswing made it harder to concentrate than normal. The squishing of her breasts against his back left a definite impression on him through the thin-yet-durable membrane of his costume, an impression more evident in his lower regions. However, he could feel something else pressing against his lower back as well, and it felt strangely recognizable, though he couldn’t place it just yet. He was very grateful his spider-sense worked again, or else he’d have had much harder things to worry about than what was coming of Poison’s teasing.
Still, they’d made it back into her penthouse, coming in through the balcony access. “You know, we both got kind of sweaty,” Spider-Man remarked. “You wouldn’t mind freshening up before we went to bed tonight, would you?”
“Only if you don’t,” Poison retorted with a saucy grin.
“Sure, just be careful not to peek on me,” Spider-Man replied. “I’m not quite ready to unmask yet.”
Poison chuckled. “You remind me of those luchadores. Always worried about somebody seeing them without their masks.”
“Yeah, well, there are people I’m trying not to get killed because some lunatic with a grudge happens to be looking for a way to get at me,” Spider-Man came back. “That’s what the mask is there for.”
Poison sighed. “Man of mystery and morals. You’re more interesting and yet more infuriating by the minute, Spider.”
Spider-Man chuckled. “I usually get told that right before they double down on their attempts to kill me.”
Poison giggled at that. “You’re a real charmer, you know that?”
“Sure, but ladies first,” Spider-Man offered. “I’ll just sit in your room and wait. And not go through your stuff.”
“A real gentleman, aren’t you?” Poison remarked coquettishly. “Well, since you offered and all . . .”
Thus, Spider-Man found himself waiting inside Poison’s lavishly, if somewhat garishly, decorated room for her to finish her shower. He didn’t have long to slip into a reverie, though, as his spider-sense suddenly blared at him, just in time for him to dodge a bull rush from Hugo.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN POISON’S ROOM, SPIDER-MAN?!” the giant of a man roared at him, as he had to web Hugo up to stop him from trashing Poison’s room in his blind rage.
“I invited him here!” Poison yelled, emerging from the shower with her spiky hair matted down by being soaked and dressed in a skimpy bathrobe. “Hugo! You can’t act like this every time I bring a guy home!”
“But you never bring guys home, Poison,” Hugo answered simply. “What’s so special about him?”
“For your information, Hugo, he’s the first guy I’ve connected with in forever!” Poison replied vehemently. “And I don’t wanna screw it up with him!”
Spider-Man almost blushed. “Wow, Poison. I didn’t know I meant that much to you.” He intended it to come off sardonic and aloof, but he sounded more genuinely impressed and heartened than anything else.
“What can I say?” Poison responded airily. “I have such a weakness for hero types.”
Spider-Man smirked behind his mask, and then took notice of Poison. Having had to rush to keep both men from tearing her home apart fighting each other, she hadn’t had time to properly dry herself off, so he could see some glistening drops of water sliding down her legs, cleavage, and neck. He also saw that her skin was still flushed from the hot water of the shower, and her exertion in dressing down Hugo for his rash behavior after seeing him in her room. In short, Poison was utterly gorgeous when wet.
“Um, nice meeting you, Hugo,” he said, diverting his gaze from Poison to her hulking comrade, who was still on the ground bound in webbing. “Sorry about kicking you around that first time.”
“You be good to Poison, ok?” Hugo responded, glaring up at Spider-Man despite his position. “Or I break you, Spider-Man.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Spider-Man answered. He must really care about her a lot.
Yeah, tell me something I don’t know, he chided himself.
“Shower’s yours if you want it, Spidey,” Poison offered. “I just gotta ask . . . how do we get him out of there?”
“It should dissolve in an hour,” Spider-Man replied. “Maybe a little more, give or take.” He sighed. “Look, I’ll get him out myself as soon as I get back from the shower. Where is it, again?”
“I’ll show you,” Poison declared, and guided him to the bathroom. “You’re going to love it in there. It’s so warm . . . feels like you’re being caressed all over by the water . . . all the stress and tension just washed away . . .”
“That is some hard sell you’ve got there,” Spider-Man remarked.
Poison chortled. “Oh, it’s all true. Feel free to take a little more time to rub one out if you need to. After what happened between us . . .”
Spider-Man smirked again, though Poison couldn’t see it behind his mask, and cocked his head looking at her. “Is that what you did while you were in the shower?”
Poison smirked back at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t . . .” she teased him.
“Just don’t peek, ok?” Spider-Man requested.
“You can always web the door shut if you’re that worried,” Poison suggested.
“Point there,” Spider-Man admitted, as he went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. After webbing the keyhole so that no one could use it as a peephole, he stripped out of his costume and threw it aside. Fortunately for him, the third-generation unstable molecules it’d been treated with made the costume self-cleaning, so he wouldn’t have to worry when he put it back on after he was done.
As he showered, Poison and Hugo were in her room, Hugo still webbed and looking curiously at her. “Why do you like him so much?” he asked.
“He reminds me of something good in my life,” Poison admitted. “Something I never thought I could have again.”
“He won’t even show you his face,” Hugo mumbled.
“I don’t need to see his face,” Poison replied. “Not right now, anyway. I’d like to see it, but I can wait for him to feel more comfortable showing me. It’s new, this thing we’ve got . . . and I like it. I don’t want to make a mess of it.”
“Fine,” Hugo grumbled. “But he hurts you . . . I break him. Simple.”
Poison smiled, but it wasn’t her usual cocky, flirtatious grin. It was a quieter, humbler expression of sheer heartwarming gratitude and affection. “You’ll always care, won’t you?”
“You’re my manager . . . and my friend,” Hugo responded simply.
Some minutes later, a freshly cleaned Spider-Man had come back in, still wearing his costume. “Uh, hi,” he greeted. “Didn’t keep you waiting too long, did I?”
“Nope, you’re just in time to cut Hugo loose,” Poison replied.
“Why are you still wearing your costume?” Hugo asked.
“It’s self-cleaning,” Spider-Man explained. He went over to Hugo and pulled him out of the web-trap he’d put him in before. “Sorry about that. I was just defending myself, you see . . .”
“I feel like a fly,” Hugo mumbled.
“And yet I’m the one that came into the parlor,” Spider-Man quipped back.
Poison looked at the webbing Spider-Man had just freed Hugo from with a curious expression. “You think you might use that on me sometime?” she asked the web-slinger.
“I don’t know,” Spider-Man replied, slipping into the rhythm. “I only use that for naughty girls. Have you been naughty, Poison?”
“So naughty,” Poison answered huskily.
“I’m getting out of here,” Hugo murmured, and did exactly that.
“Sweet dreams, Hugo!” Poison called out after him, before turning back to Spider-Man. “And I’m ready to give you some, too.”
“I guess that means you’re ready for bed,” Spider-Man commented.
“I am,” Poison replied with a sultry smirk. “Just turn around real quick, and I’ll join you soon.”
Following her request like a gentleman should, Spider-Man drew back the covers of Poison’s bed and removed his gloves and boots, leaving his hands and feet bare. He had to admit, he felt a tad silly getting ready to go to sleep in his costume, as though it were a superhero onesie. It was better than going to sleep naked with the mask still on, though he caught himself wondering whether he’d have been better off bringing some sleepwear with him. Then again, he hadn’t anticipated that he’d fall for her as fast as he was, nor that he’d be sleeping over at her place.
His musings were broken by the feel of Poison’s weight adding itself to his on her bed. Turning to acknowledge her, he noticed that she wore another skimpy white top and an equally skimpy pair of boy short panties in the same color, both of which conformed well to her shapely figure. “Like what I wear to bed, Spidey?” she teased him.
“Yeah,” Spider-Man admitted.
“I’m liking what you’ve got, too,” she replied. “Really brings out that nice body of yours.” This, she accented by actually stroking his torso. She drew herself closer to him, and then turned around so that her back was pressed against his front. Since they were nearly the same height even without her heels, this had the effect of pressing a certain part of his lower anatomy between the full cheeks of her very well-formed backside.
This . . . will be awkward, Spider-Man thought, a thought that was validated when Poison began shifting against him for comfort, unwittingly stroking his burgeoning erection with her buns.
“Oh, Spider . . . you’re really enjoying being so close to me, aren’t you?” she cooed teasingly at him.
Maybe not so unwittingly, then.
Morning came and Spider-Man rose with it, the sunlight streaming over the bed he and Poison slept in, illuminating her hair and skin. For a moment, he could have sworn he was in bed with an angel, an angel with a wicked mind and a body built for all kinds of sin, but an angel nonetheless. He tucked back some of her pink hair and pulled his mask up to lay a soft kiss on her neck, the small contact stirring her awake.
“My prince . . .” Poison teased as she turned in his arms to face him before proceeding to kiss him on his exposed lips. Spider-Man kissed her back, his already half-aroused member stirring to full hardness from the closeness of her body on his. She pulled back with an impish smirk as her hand fell upon his groin, caressing his hardness. “I must have kept him awake all night. Want me to make it up to you?”
“You don’t have to . . .” Spider-Man demurred.
“No, but I want to,” Poison purred, sliding down his body, moaning from the contact between his sleek frame and her curvier yet toned one. As soon as she reached his groin, he helpfully undid the hidden seam there, freeing her to free his erection, the length of it in very close proximity to her eye and the head beading with pre-cum. She licked the small drop off his tip, drawing a moan from him before she took it into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it and then slowly lowering her head, taking him deeper and deeper into her mouth and throat at a torturous pace. Spider-Man let out a loud pleasured groan from the feel of Poison’s mouth and throat around his member, holding himself still to the best of his ability so he didn’t cause her any discomfort.
Despite the pleasure he was receiving, he wasn’t so completely oblivious to his surroundings that he didn’t notice her reaching down to handle herself as she did last night. He couldn’t see what exactly she was doing, but from the muffled moans vibrating on his shaft, he could tell it felt just as good to her as what she was doing felt to him. The thought of Poison pleasuring herself, combined with the feel of her engulfing his shaft with her mouth and throat and the fact that he’d been edging all night from their spooning position, was too much and he found himself climaxing into her mouth. Poison pulled back just in time to taste his release on her tongue, swallowing eagerly and only pulling off completely once she had gotten everything.
“You know, you’re going to have to let me pay you back one of these days,” Spider-Man remarked as soon as he’d caught his breath, which was only a few seconds, really.
“No need to worry, Spidey,” Poison replied, turning to climb out of bed and facing away from him as she adjusted her boy short panties. “I’m more of a giver, really.”
“I’m quite the giving guy myself, Poise,” Spider-Man responded with a smile.
Poison chuckled. “‘Poise’?”
“What, I can’t give you a nickname?” Spider-Man wondered aloud.
Poison cast a backward gaze over her shoulder at him, smirking. “I like it.”
After having showered and dressed again, Spider-Man surprised Poison and Hugo by sticking around for breakfast by way of room service. When the hotel server came by with their meals, Poison and Hugo were confused to not see him anywhere in the room. That confusion didn’t stop Poison from tipping the hotel server quite generously . . . and giving him the opportunity to peep down her generous cleavage, chortling quietly at his flustered face.
Once the door was closed and their meals were inside, Spider-Man literally reappeared out of nowhere. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Didn’t want to give myself away. Paparazzi are a pain.”
“I suppose you’d know,” Poison remarked with a slight grin.
“How did you do that?” Hugo asked.
“Stealth costume,” Spider-Man replied. “Makes it so you can’t see or hear me.”
“Was that how you got in to see me last night?” Poison asked teasingly.
“Yeah,” Spider-Man admitted.
“Ever use it for other things?” Poison inquired, her tone still teasing.
Spider-Man caught on quickly enough. “No, not that kind of thing. Just spying and getting the drop on bad guys.”
“And bad girls?” Poison prompted suggestively.
Spider-Man let out a long-suffering sigh. “Can we just have breakfast?”
Breakfast passed, and Poison managed to coax out a few stories from the wall-crawler about his funnier adventures and outings. While Hugo was a tad jealous at the attention Poison showered on Spider-Man, it didn’t stop him from asking about the various wrestling heroes and villains that’d made their name in the superhuman community as well. Pleasantly for him, Spider-Man was more than willing to tell about his encounters, alliances, and fights with them, depending on their status as heroes or villains. Breakfast did come to an end, and Spider-Man did have to return home before the people in both his civilian and costumed lives started worrying about him, though he was pretty sure they’d already started.
“Say, you wanna do this again sometime?” Spider-Man asked. “Like, maybe a real date?”
Poison actually blushed, feeling like a schoolgirl who’d just been asked out by the hottest boy in her grade. “Yeah. I’d like that, but how do I reach you?”
Spider-Man whispered his number in her ear; it was the shielded number he used as Spider-Man, not the number of the cell phone or home phone he owned as Peter Parker. “Call me whenever you’re ready.” With a parting kiss on the cheek, he went out through her penthouse balcony and swung back into the city, ready to start his day anew.
“Seems like he really likes you,” Hugo remarked as Poison gently rubbed the spot on her cheek where Spider-Man had kissed her.
“Yeah . . .” Poison admitted.
“You gonna tell him?” Hugo asked. “About . . .”
“When I’m ready, Hugo,” Poison replied sharply. In truth, she was scared of how he’d react, afraid he might be repulsed by her once he learned her dark secret. It was why she hadn’t let him go down on her, though he’d taken it in stride like a real gentleman. Wasn’t very often she met guys like that, guys that just seemed so honestly goodhearted. Ok, maybe honest was an ironic word to use for someone who wore a mask to do his heroics and wouldn’t say his real name, but those things aside, she didn’t get the impression he was lying to her about anything he’d said.
Meanwhile, Spider-Man had made it back to his apartment and changed into Peter Parker again. As he got into his civilian clothes, he saw he had some messages on his voicemail, so he turned it on and let it go. The first message was from Mary Jane, calling to ask if he’d come home all right and not fallen into Poison’s trap. The second message was from Grady Scraps, who was talking excitedly about Poison’s match with Rainbow Mika, which Peter had had an unconventional front-row seat to witness. The third was from Carlie, who’d looked up Poison just so she could tell him that she was bad road, so to speak. By that point, he was just buttoning up his polo shirt over his usual Spider-Man costume, the one he’d modified to combine the best aspects of his stealth, armored, Future Foundation, and even Starktech suits and was thus capable of camouflaging itself.
Didn’t she break up with me? Peter asked himself. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised; as angry as Carlie might have been at his withholding his secret identity from her, she did care about him a lot. It wasn’t that unprecedented, at least not if Mary Jane’s call was anything to go by. Ex-girlfriends were very complex like that, and not for the first time, Peter wondered, If they cared so much about me, why aren’t we still together?
Peter caught himself. That wasn’t fair, he realized; being Spider-Man brought all sorts of complications into his life and other people’s lives just by being around them. He couldn’t blame either of them for wanting out after all the distress his alter ego had brought into their lives, but some selfish part of him did resent them for leaving, a selfishness that shamed him deeply. Wasn’t it selfishness, his selfishness that had cost the life of his Uncle Ben, after all?
He sighed. Complexities aside, he still looked back fondly on Carlie and Mary Jane, though Mary Jane more so than Carlie, he had to admit. They’d been through a lot together, and he had to admit that she knew him better than almost anyone else, which was why they’d stayed together as long as they had, even without getting married. Some part of him would always long for her, just like with Gwen, but it was time he moved on, and God willing, Poison might just be the woman to help him do that.
He checked the clock. Speaking of moving on, I’ve gotta get to Horizon. Yep, another day of putting my brain to work coming up with solutions to improve the lot of the human race. Not bad, if I do say so myself. Certainly better than chasing my own tail so Jameson could smear me in The Bugle. And I really have to talk to Grady about getting so hyped over Poison. Heh, who am I to talk?
As it would turn out that night, Grady wasn’t what, or whom, Peter needed to worry about. He decided to drop by Mary Jane’s new nightclub to tell her in person that he was perfectly alive and unharmed by Poison. He’d dressed up fairly nicely for the occasion, wearing a tan jacket over a dark red dress shirt and blue slacks with black shoes. Decent, but not overblown, and he’d made sure the jacket had pockets for the gloves, boots, web-shooters, and mask of his Spider-Man costume. Assured that he’d be ready should trouble once again come knocking, he went out to hit MJ’s – the name of her new club.
After a good while of waiting in line to see the bouncer, Peter steeled himself for having to haggle his way into the club. To his shock, a look of familiarity dawned on the bouncer’s face. “Hey . . . aren’t you that guy who was on that webcast telling people to go beat up those Spider-Thugs ruining the city’s and Spidey’s name?” the bouncer inquired.
“Uh, yeah, that would be me,” Peter admitted sheepishly. It’d been the best move he could think of, given that the Avengers couldn’t tell him apart from the spider-powered thugs wearing his costumes when Spider-Island started to escalate. Alas, it had destroyed the techno-mystical protections erected by Doctor Strange, Reed Richards, and Tony Stark keeping people from connecting the dots between Peter Parker and Spider-Man. God help him if someone like Norman Osborn ever rediscovered the secret.
Oblivious to Peter’s internal struggle, the bouncer smiled. “Come in, then. Besides, the boss lady showed us a picture of you and said that if we didn’t let you in when you showed up, there’d be hell to pay. Trust me, I do not want to mess with her.”
Peter smiled. “Yeah, I can totally relate. Thanks.”
Upon entering the club, Peter blinked for a moment or two, his eyes adjusting to the lights. As soon as that was over, he began walking through the club, his ears adjusting to the blaring dance music. He looked around for Mary Jane, trying to see if he could recognize her uniquely fiery red hair through the flashing lights of the club. Luck sadly wasn’t with him there, but it took a strange turn when he heard a very familiar voice say, “Hey, handsome. Are you lost?”
“Lost? No, I’m . . .” Peter turned and saw Poison, dressed somewhat nicer than usual, wearing a white corset and maroon leather micro-mini with red pumps and black leather cuffs around her wrists and neck. “I’m not lost at all . . .”
“Looking for someone, then?” Poison teased.
“Yeah, I am,” Peter admitted, trying not to say or do too much to give away his identity. Spider-Man could talk as cockily and confidently as he liked, but Peter Parker was always one for caution around strange women.
“Shy guy, huh?” Poison remarked with a sultry smirk. “That’s cute.”
“Glad you think so,” Peter mumbled.
“How urgent is it that you find this someone?” Poison inquired, her jade eyes smoldering as they looked into his hazel ones.
“Um . . . she was really worried about me last night, and I’m trying to reassure her that I’m still alive,” Peter confessed. “New York City’s a pretty dangerous place, what with all the super-villains and superheroes fighting each other all the time. And that’s not even accounting for your everyday mugger.”
“Your mother must be real cool, to come to a place like this,” Poison joked.
“She’s not my mother . . .” Peter protested.
“Girlfriend?” Poison queried. “Wife? Am I getting hotter?”
“Unless you were catching a fever, no,” Peter answered dryly. “And no, she isn’t. Not anymore.”
“Bad breakup?” Poison cooed solicitously. “It’s ok. I understand.”
“Sure,” Peter mumbled.
“Well, the music’s right,” Poison offered. “Want me to help you get your mind off her for a while?”
Without waiting for his answer, Poison sidled closer to him, well inside his personal space, and took his hands in hers, turning around so that her back was facing his chest and his arms were wrapped around her. She slowly shifted against him, her hips swaying to the rocking rhythm of the music, the genre of which Peter could only guess at. As she moved, she guided his hands to her hips, encouraging him to use them for balance or to steer, in a manner of speaking. She drew one hand out of his and stretched her arm back to wrap around the back of his neck and head, her fingers playing with his slightly spiky hair.
As the tempo sped up, so did the rhythm of Poison’s hips grinding into his, her rear end pushing and shifting against the suddenly very tight crotch of his slacks. “Mm, you’re liking this a lot, it seems,” she purred, leaning her head back so her lips were almost next to his ear, the seductive words going directly into his brain.
“I guess I am . . .” he murmured, surprised to find it not as objectionable as he thought. His grip tightened on her hips, as he began to move to the music along with her, their hips swaying together as the evidence of Peter’s arousal insistently pushed into the cleft of her backside despite the layers of cloth and leather between them. “Not usually my style, though . . .”
“Not the kind of girl you usually go for?” Poison teased sultrily.
“Not that there isn’t room to expand my horizons,” Peter admitted with a slight smirk.
“I feel something else expanding,” Poison remarked with a seductive chortle.
“That’s just what you do to me,” Peter replied.
“Glad I have that effect on such a good boy . . .” Poison purred. “Wanna walk the wild side with me?”
“Somehow, I’ve got the feeling that’s not the only place I’ll be walking with you,” Peter answered with a teasing chuckle in his voice.
Peter wasn’t completely unaware of his personality shift from timid, reserved Peter Parker to cavalier, daring, bold Spider-Man. The lines had always been blurred between Peter Parker and Spider-Man, the question being how much of Spider-Man was just Peter saying and doing what he couldn’t or wouldn’t without the mask hanging over his head over the years. Conversely, there was also the question of how much of Peter Parker was a ruse so Spider-Man could walk in plain sight, or how much of Spider-Man was Peter Parker’s shield against a world that had so often before rejected him. The lines had only become blurrier with the number of people that knew him as both Peter and Spider-Man, though most of them didn’t interact as much with Peter as they did Spider-Man. Peter wasn’t the kind of guy who really fit into places like that, and while Spider-Man was no longer such a complete outcast, going there still made him uneasy sometimes.
Distracting yourself from how much you want her with identity issues, huh? Peter jibed at himself. Or are you just scared you’ll blow it again, just like the last three times?
Pulling him out of his troubled musings was the sight of Poison’s pink lips so close to his own, her breath flowing into his nostrils. Is she . . . ? one part of his mind wondered.
Yes, she is, another part answered wryly.
Should I . . . ? yet another part queried.
Do it, a fourth part interjected. Do it and quit the melodramatic whinging.
Since when did my subconscious start talking in British? Peter wondered.
Then she kissed him, and all the parts of his conscious and subconscious that were jostling each other for position shut up. Peter’s body went on auto, kissing her back and pulling her closer than they already were. As the kiss went on, Poison turned in his arms so that her front was now pressing against his, her breasts squishing against his chest. She pulled back first, to catch her breath, while Peter exhaled deeply.
“You . . . you kiss just like . . .” Poison uttered, stunned.
“Just like whom?” Peter wondered. Oh, no, don’t tell me she . . .
“I never forget a pair of lips, Spider,” Poison whispered in his ear. “Since it’s so important to you that nobody else know, I suggest you follow me.”
Fuck, Peter thought bluntly. Now how am I supposed to tell MJ I’m all right? Then again, I might not be that all right soon . . .
Seeing no other options at the moment, Peter followed Poison out of MJ’s, only to move to face her as soon as they were clear. Poison blinked. One moment he’d been behind her, and she’d been deliberately swishing her hips to get his attention, and the next moment he was right in front of her, his hazel eyes burning a hole through her.
“What’s the deal?” he asked. “Once and for all, what do you want from me?”
“I just want you,” Poison replied.
“Then why mention my secret identity?” he interrogated.
“How else was I supposed to get your attention?” Poison rejoined. “You were trying so hard to pretend you didn’t recognize or know me.” There was a pout in her voice on that second sentence.
Peter smiled wryly. “Cat’s out of the bag now, I guess.”
“I have to say, it was pretty clever of you to go on that webcast and pretend you were just another infected New Yorker during that Spider-Island mess,” Poison remarked. “Hell, it’s a pretty clever racket you’ve got going; Spider-Man saves lives and Peter Parker gets the credit for building his gear, and nobody guesses that the dashing masked stranger and the cute techie are one and the same.”
“It’s not a racket,” Peter demurred. “It’s how I do good in the world in both my identities. Spider-Man stops bad guys from hurting people and Peter Parker invents things that help people in more ways than just punching a bad guy in the face. Win-win.”
Poison looked at him curiously. “You talk about yourself like you’re separate people.”
“Sorry,” Peter said. “It’s force of habit. Peter and Spider-Man aren’t supposed to overlap, because of all the people that could get hurt if one of my enemies figured out the truth. Unlike so many other superheroes these days, I have a slightly broader social circle than just fellow superheroes and secret agents or what-not, and most of them can’t exactly defend themselves against the kind of people I face as Spider-Man.”
“Have you ever thought about telling someone?” Poison inquired.
“It’s happened,” Peter replied. “It usually blows up in my face.”
“Why don’t you come with me?” Poison asked.
“Come with you where?” Peter wondered.
“To my place,” Poison replied. “Silly spider. Where do you think I’d want you to come?”
I could think of a few places, Peter thought to himself. And at least one other meaning.
“Fine, but we’re going on the Spider-Man express,” he said aloud. “Just let me get changed, and try not to peek.”
One quick change into Spider-Man later, and stuffing his clothes in a web-pack, Peter was swinging Poison back to her penthouse apartment, Poison enjoying the ride all the way if her teasing wiggling against him was anything to go by. They landed on her balcony, and walked into the apartment through the sliding glass doors overlooking the cityscape.
“So . . . want anything to drink?” Poison asked.
“Not much of a drinker,” Peter admitted, keeping his mask on.
“Lightweight?” Poison remarked.
“Yeah,” Peter confessed.
“Then there’s other things I could do . . . that we could do . . .” she purred to him, her voice taking on a seductive cadence.
“You sure about that?” Peter asked, despite her voice sending signals right to the lower part of his anatomy.
Poison strode closer to him, reaching out one well-manicured hand to touch his chest, her fingertips ghosting over him. “Very sure . . .”
Peter pulled Poison into his arms, his mask peeled back over his nose so he could kiss her on the lips. Once again, Poison experienced the sensation of being passionately devoured, of her lover drinking her essence through her mouth. She eagerly kissed him back, sucking his tongue into her mouth in emulation of what she wanted to do to another part of his anatomy, grinding her hips into his groin as the kiss continued. To her brief disappointment, he broke the kiss, smiling at her.
“Why don’t we take this to your room?” he suggested.
“Now you’re talking,” Poison affirmed, taking his hand and guiding him to her room. Once there, she shut the door behind them and pinned him to said door, kissing him deeply, as his arms went up in surprise, then went down to her hips and rear, gripping them tightly. Despite the fierceness in her kiss, Peter’s greater strength enabled him to start walking her toward the bed, her moving backwards as he moved forward, though they never broke the kiss until she had fallen back onto the bed, her pink hair splayed out around her head.
Peter pulled back again, this time moving on to her neck and kissing, licking, and sucking at as much of her flesh as he could reach. His hands roamed her sides and hips and thighs, one of them even trying to slip under her skirt, only for Poison to guide that hand away as it got too close. Undeterred, he began kissing lower, his lips peppering her chest and generous cleavage exposed and emphasized by the corset. Poison helped him undo her corset, before tossing it away to give him an unfettered view of her breasts. As he kissed the tops of her breasts and over her sternum, he started tweaking her nipples with his fingers . . . and then tried something else.
Poison could feel something pulling at her nipples, like a vibrating magnetic charge. The sensation caused her to gasp aloud, the sound being one of acute, if shocked, pleasure. It passed through her nipples, coursing through her whole body from head to . . . that part of her anatomy. She looked down, and saw the tips of Peter’s index fingers sticking to her nipples and gently pulling at them, her nipples following despite the fact that he wasn’t actually gripping them.
“How . . . ?” she asked breathlessly.
“Stick’em powers, remember?” Peter replied with an impish smirk.
Poison was about to respond, but a moan passed through her lips well before any coherent reply. “Don’t stop . . .”
“Not intending to,” Peter replied, as he continued pulling at her nipples with the clinging grip of his fingertips. For the next several minutes, he drew out a symphony of moans and gasps of varying pitches and tempos from her.
“Ah . . . I think I’m . . . gonna . . . STOP!” Poison cried out, trying to pull back from Peter even as his clinging grip caused her nipples to stretch forward.
Didn’t you just say “don’t stop?” Peter wondered, but let go of her nipples. “Is something wrong?” he asked aloud. “Did I do something?”
“No . . . it’s not you,” Poison denied, scooting back from him. “It’s just . . . if we’re going to keep doing this, there’s something I haven’t been honest with you about . . .”
“Can’t imagine what that’d be,” Peter replied, a little more sardonically than was necessary. Then he got a good look at the tent she was pitching in her skirt, which caused him to give her a confused look.
“It’s a lot more complicated than it looks,” Poison murmured shamefully.
“I’m the king of ‘more complicated than it looks,’” Peter responded. “Try me.”
“I wasn’t born male, but I wasn’t born female, either,” Poison confessed.
“So . . . in-between? Intersex?” Peter surmised.
“Yeah,” Poison confirmed, “but since all my father cared about was that I had a penis, he tried to raise me as a boy. Shit lot of good that did once puberty kicked in and I started growing tits and hips. The next few years were full of baggy clothes and binding tape and doctor’s notes excusing me from gym because my dad didn’t want anybody seeing me in the showers. Didn’t stop me from dressing like a girl whenever I thought I could get away with it, and then came the hormonal treatments, trying to get rid of anything that could get me ‘mistaken’ for a woman. I reached my breaking point when he found my treasure chest of girly clothes and started ripping and burning them, the asshole, and that was the night I ran away from home.”
“And you eventually hooked up with the Mad Gear Gang,” Peter filled in.
“Yeah,” Poison admitted. “Roxy was my best friend. She totally got me. Hell, other than Hugo, she was the only real friend I had in that place. Burned us both up when I decided to leave, but after what I helped do to Cody . . . there was no way I could live with myself if I stayed.”
“Cody . . . is that the guy you were telling me about before?” Peter wondered, pulling his mask back further to reveal his face, a few spiky strands of brown hair sticking out.
“Yeah,” Poison confirmed. “He had everything going for him. Hero of Metro City, engaged to the mayor’s daughter, and since he’d gotten in the way of so many of Mad Gear’s plans, our man in the police force, the chief, set him up to take the fall for my crimes, made him look like a loose cannon psycho who just got off on beating the crap out of people pretending he was a hero.” Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “I loved him, and immature as I was, I thought that if I destroyed his life like that, he’d have no choice but to be with me. I ruined him . . . and I don’t want to do the same to you, Peter. You’re the best man I’ve known in a long time, and . . . if you don’t wanna see me anymore, it’s ok . . . I won’t ever tell anyone who you are. Even if they try to beat it or torture it out of me, I won’t tell . . .”
Peter hugged Poison in that moment, and let her shed her remorseful tears, stroking her hair comfortingly. “You’re better than you think,” he muttered to her. “And honestly, I still wanna see where this thing between us leads. If that’s all right with you?”
Poison sniffled. “You sure know what to say to a gal,” she remarked.
Peter gently kissed her tears. “I’m not that good at talking to women.”
“You still think . . . ?”
“If that’s what you are, that’s what you are. And frankly, I’ve seen things more frightening, confusing, and disturbing than a woman with unusual anatomy.”
Poison began to giggle, and it wasn’t her usual seductive, flirtatious chortle, but a lighter, more relaxed and relieved sound. “You really did have great parents.”
“Don’t really remember them,” Peter admitted. “But the man and woman who did raise me? Yeah, they were two of the greatest people I’ve ever known. I owe a lot to them.”
Poison pulled out of the hug, but only so she could unzip the side of her skirt, freeing her to pull it off herself and revealing a sizable erection straining the fabric of her skimpy white panties. She actually blushed, looking at him and looking back at her erection, and she even bit her lip. Then her eyes widened in pleasant shock when she looked at him again, seeing a sizable erection straining against the deep blue fabric of his costume pants.
“You . . .” she uttered, her blush deepening. “You’re the first person, to see me like this . . .”
“I’m honored,” Peter replied, his voice thick with desire yet tender. He slowly moved closer to her, and then kissed her again, a sweet kiss unimpeded by the erections between them. She kissed back, wrapping her arms around his neck and melting into his touch, moaning softly as her panty-clad member brushed against his costume-clad member. Peter let out a low growl of desire against Poison’s lips as he deepened the kiss, slowly sucking her tongue into his mouth and grinding against her.
Poison pulled back from the heated kiss with a gasp that was as much a cry of pleasure as it was for breath. Peter reached behind him to crack open the hidden seam of his costume, peeling it off to expose the entirety of his lithe yet well-muscled frame to Poison’s lusting eyes. “Wow, you’re gorgeous!” Poison exclaimed, not usually one for reservation to begin with.
Peter grinned. “Glad you think so.” Most enthusiastic reaction I’ve gotten in, I dunno . . . ever, he mused to himself. “And I’m pretty sure someone else thinks so, too.” He raised an eyebrow with a mischievous smirk at Poison’s erection, still trapped behind the thin fabric of her scanty panties, and Poison blushed again.
“You do that to me . . .” she admitted, rather unusually shyly for her.
“And you can see what you do to me,” Peter rejoined. Indeed, now that he was completely free of his costume, his shaft protruded with a hardness and heaviness that honestly floored Poison, who was no stranger to that portion of the male anatomy. Perhaps what floored her was that he knew what she was, he knew her dirty little secret, and it hadn’t done anything to douse his passion for her. Hell, from how lit-up his eyes were as they looked upon her, she’d swear he was bent on ravaging her on the spot.
As if reading her mind, his smile turned a little gentler, more loving, even. “I think it’s time we got rid of the fig leaf. Are you ready?”
It didn’t escape Poison’s notice what Peter meant by “fig leaf,” and by the Avengers’ six-and-a-half-foot resident thundering Adonis, she was ready for him. He grasped her hips, his thumbs and index fingers hooking into the strings of her scanty underwear as she placed her hands on top of his, a warm smile on her face to match his and her green eyes gazing into his hazel ones. “Let’s do it together,” she whispered, and gently pushed on his hands as he pulled her panties down, removing the small cloth together and casting it aside to join his costume.
Poison’s member had popped out almost like some fleshy spring, but it was definitely as hard and ready as Peter’s. Poison smiled a smile of mischievous sultriness at him, as she grasped his member in her hand and lined it up with hers. “Somehow, this is the most fun I’ve had in a dick-measuring contest,” he remarked.
“You’ve done this before?” Poison asked.
“Metaphorically, usually,” Peter replied in good humor.
On observation, Poison’s member was slightly longer than Peter’s, but it had a willowy femininity to it in contrast to Peter’s thicker, heavier member. He raised an eyebrow when he saw that she’d shaved herself clean. “Now I’m never going to know if that’s your natural hair color, am I?” he quipped.
“A little feminine mystique goes a long way, don’t you think?” Poison replied. “Besides, you’re one to talk, Mr. Almost No Body Hair.”
“More aerodynamic,” Peter explained. “Never know when that extra tenth or hundredth of speed will come in handy.”
“And speaking of handy . . .” Poison purred, beginning to stroke his member together with hers, moaning softly from the friction of their erections rubbing together. Peter let out a moan of his own, and began stroking her erection together with his, their hands almost joined in this act of mutual masturbation. While one of his hands was occupied, the other had returned to caressing, squeezing, and massaging her breast, while his mouth occupied itself with sucking the nipple of her other breast.
Poison let out a loud pleasured moan from Peter’s mouth and hands on her, even as her hand busied itself pleasuring him as well. Peter’s moans and groans of pleasure were muffled by Poison’s breast in his mouth while he arched and thrust against her hand and member. As for his hand that was on her member, he reapplied his clinging grip to enhance his strokes in ways that caused her to cry out loudly and arch into his touch, pushing more of her breasts into his mouth and against his other hand. On that other hand, Peter was reapplying his clinging grip there as well, pulling, twisting, tweaking, and manipulating her breast in uncanny ways that lit up her neurons like no other sensation had managed. She was twisting and arching in his grip, under his touch, gasping, moaning, and crying, on the verge of . . .
With an ecstatic scream, she climaxed, and since her member was still being held by Peter while it’d been grinding against his, which she’d been holding, her release spilled out on their hands and stomachs and shafts. She felt like she was releasing her very heart and soul and spirit in that moment, letting it come out all over herself and her lover, and it felt like the closest thing to heaven she’d ever experience. When it was done, she stared back at Peter with half-lidded eyes, looking down at the fruits of their pleasurable labor.
“Oops, I made a mess, didn’t I?” she remarked with coquettish fake modesty. She looked at the fluids on her hand, and began licking them off. “I should clean it up, shouldn’t I?”
Peter turned a heated hazel gaze on her, his own arousal unabated. “Good idea,” he concurred, his voice an unusually heavy rasp. That made Poison set herself upon him, licking and sucking his hand clean before kissing her way down his torso to lap up the orgasmic mess she’d made on his very firm stomach. She didn’t stop at that, either, with teasing nips and sucks made in between her licks on his sensitive skin, dragging her tongue down between his thighs to lick and suck his unflaggingly erect manhood clean. Peter let out a gasping moan and tried his best not to arch into her mouth, fearful of choking her in his eager desire. Once she was sure he was clean, she pulled off his member, smiling wickedly at him.
“What a bad girl I am . . .” Poison purred teasingly at him. “You didn’t even come yet . . .”
Peter smirked. “Then you’ll make it up to me, won’t you?” he teased, as he gently swiped a finger across her stained stomach, picking up some of her orgasmic fluids and licking them off. His smirk grew. “No wonder you were so eager to clean me up.”
“You like?” she asked.
“I like,” he replied. “And right now, I’m going to show you how much I like it.” Scooping up more of her wetness, he noticed that a good amount had pooled under and behind her sac, which gave him some ideas. To be specific, he pulled her legs up and pushed them back to give him more room to spread her juices over her rear entry. “Waste not, want not.”
“Oh, I see where this is going . . .” Poison seductively intoned.
“I’ll be gentle,” Peter declared softly, gently caressing and slowly stretching her orifice with his agile fingers. Poison moaned and pressed herself against those fingers, pushing them deeper inside her tightness.
“You don’t have to be,” Poison offered. “I’m not that fragile.”
Peter raised an eyebrow, but then he recalled the flash of pink that accented the almost-unnatural distortion of the air so forcefully displaced by the swing of Poison’s riding crop in her match with Rainbow Mika. It occurred to him that she might have a few tricks up her own nonexistent sleeve, but at the moment, he had other, more pressing matters on his mind. As soon as he’d determined she was stretched enough, he moved so that he was facing her while aligning his member against her rosebud, having taken time to lubricate it with her orgasmic fluids as well.
“If this hurts, I’m sorry,” he whispered, before pushing into her. The tightness that gripped his head was almost overwhelming, and as aroused as he was from before, the self-control he’d learned from his martial arts lessons with Shang-Chi kept him from exploding right away. With a few deep breaths to ensure that he wouldn’t climax anytime soon, Peter looked back at Poison. “Are you all right?”
“Like I said,” Poison replied, though she winced from the unfamiliar sensation of something going up what was usually presumed as an “exit only” orifice, “I’m not that fragile.”
Peter gritted his teeth and pushed himself deeper inside her, yet maintaining a slow, steady pace so as to both give her time to adjust and keep him from releasing too fast. After what seemed like forever, he was completely inside her, her legs resting on his shoulders. He allowed a low moan to escape his lips, the feeling of her ass gripping and clenching his member sending near-electric waves of pleasure through him.
“Poison . . .” he managed to gasp out.
Poison looked him in the eyes, jade meeting hazel. “Do it. I won’t break.”
That did it for Peter’s self-restraint, and he withdrew partway from her before thrusting back in hard, eliciting a cry of shock and then pleasure from Poison. “Weren’t expecting me to go that hard?” he teased.
“No, but I like it,” Poison replied with a wicked smile. “Now do it again!”
Peter obeyed, pulling back and then re-sheathing himself inside her, building a rhythm of speed and force as he thrust inside her and Poison pushed her hips to meet him. Her member stood at attention, hardened and throbbing with desire and need as he drove into her, her ankles hooking behind his neck to pull him closer. He had his hands on her hips, holding them tightly with his clinging grip to keep her close as they vented their passions on each other, a chorus of moans and cries the only sounds escaping her room.
Peter leaned over Poison, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss while he maintained his pace thrusting into her yielding, welcoming ass. She kissed back eagerly, sucking his tongue into her mouth and meeting his thrusts with equal force and ardent ferocity. They could both feel their climaxes building, Poison’s being her second and Peter’s protracted only by his superhuman stamina and self-discipline. Even so, he was reaching his limits, and he drew back from the kiss to utter a warning to her.
As if reading his mind, or just recognizing the signs, Poison’s heated emerald gaze nearly burned into his soul. “Keep going,” she ordered passionately. “I don’t want you to stop until you’ve molded my ass to fit your cock!”
That was an odd request, Peter thought, but in the heat of the moment, it sounded like a beautiful idea, and to his surprise, he felt his manhood swell that little bit more inside her as he redoubled the pace of his thrusting. Poison moaned and cried and squalled with rapturous delight from Peter’s increased force as he drove faster and harder into her. Her own member swelled and throbbed with her anticipation and carnal joy, her climax coming upon her as well.
In the end, they kissed each other once more, their euphoric cries swallowed by each other’s mouths as they exploded in ecstasy. Peter’s release poured up Poison’s channel and Poison’s spilled out onto her breasts and both her and Peter’s stomachs once again. This time, Peter experienced the feeling of his heart, soul, and spirit pouring out of him through his climax, and it felt like a glimpse of heaven itself.
He collapsed on her, doing his best to keep most of his weight off her despite being overwhelmed by the force of his orgasm. His gaze fell upon Poison’s breasts, generously coated with the evidence of her ecstasy, and then shifted to her face, flushed and rosy with that same rapture. “You’re beautiful . . .” he uttered, the words tumbling out instinctively.
“And you’re amazing . . .” Poison responded breathlessly, as Peter began to lick her breasts clean. She let out a shuddering half-moan, half-chuckle. “You know . . . you still haven’t molded my ass to fit your cock.”
Peter chuckled against her breasts. “Oh, I’ll be ready to work on that in less than a minute.”
Poison smiled with wicked anticipatory glee. “Can’t wait . . .”
After he’d cleaned her breasts, Peter pulled out of her, much to her surprised disappointment, only to brighten when she saw his smirk. “I’m not done with you by a long shot, Poison.” That was when he turned her around so that she was on her hands and knees, her lusciously curved and toned rear end facing him and her member hardening once again as it dangled between her toned thighs. He gazed admiringly at the curve of her back and how it dipped into her waist and flowed into her hips and ass.
“I know you’re admiring the view, but are you just going to stare?” Poison taunted, wiggling her backside at him.
The hardness that once again pushed its way into her rear entrance and the hard yet lithe body pressing itself against her back, along with the hands that gripped her hips and the lips that brushed her ear, were all the answer she needed. Her delighted moans and cries were all the response he needed.
Could such an odd coupling – an ex-criminal-turned-possibly-superhuman-wrestler and a science nerd superhero – work out? Given Spider-Man’s past with the Black Cat and general poor luck, the odds were not in their favor. However, what was life without taking a gamble on the heart? For all their differences, they both felt a real connection between them, more than just the carnal one ensuing at this very moment. Maybe it could work between them, after all. . . .
Endnotes: And that’s it for my three-shot, “Poison-Kissed Spider.” It’s been building up to this, and you should all be very happy I split it up into three chapters, or else you’d be slogging through sixty-some pages before you got to the really good stuff. As said before, this is my Christmas present to The Amazing Shrinking Violet, my dear friend, and I’m hoping she enjoys it. As with the last chapter, there is some content cut from the FF.Net release that's been uncut on the AFF.Org version here.
For the record, after going through the debates on Poison’s gender, I decided to settle on her being intersex as a compromise of sorts, intersex being the closest thing in real life to what’s more commonly called “futanari” in certain parts of fandom. Also for the record, to combat some serious transphobic ignorance I’ve encountered in a lot of the places Poison’s been discussed, you refer to a transperson as the gender they identify as, not the gender they were born as. It’s a matter of respecting their humanity, after all.
Oh, and for those of you wondering where I got the idea for Poison to tell Peter to keep going until her ass was perfectly molded to fit his penis, I had some seriously intense roleplays. I won’t tell you who the other person was, for the sake of respecting their privacy, but that was the inspiration for that particular bit of naughtiness. In any event, Happy Holidays and New Year’s to all of you reading this, and let me know if you want me to pick up with more tales of Poison/Spider romance!
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Poison-Kissed Spider