When Spidey Met Oracle

Lucky for him -- and not just in a secret identity sense -- they ended up tearing each other's clothes off as soon as Peter sealed the door.

"Oh shit, Pete," Carlie said, pulling down his pants after he tore her shirt open. "We could have died!"

Who was it who'd once extolled the virtues of Thank-God-We're-Alive sex? Oh, right. Johnny.

They'd had sex twice since she first got infected, but he had always ignored the fact that Carlie had powers now. After watching her take on White Rabbit, however, that was kind of difficult. Peter didn't want to say that a little girl-on-girl action had kind of done it for him, but that was only because he was really good at keeping his embarassing secrets...

Still, it was Carlie who'd suggested they take things to the next level.

"Not down here," she said, stepping out of her panties -- the last shred of clothing between them -- then glancing upward. "Let's do it up there."

Peter watched, slack-jawed, as she lept to the ceiling some twenty-five feet above, clinging there as she fashinoned herself a sex-sling.

He had never really considered the sex-play applications of his webbing, because it seemed like a terrible waste of pretty expensive chemicals, but after he jumped up to join his girlfriend with organic web-shooters and a wicked imaginination, his eyes had been opened... when she hadn't webbed them shut, at least.

Not everything about Spider-Island had been terrible.

Sex with Carlie had always been good -- better than good even... sensational at times -- but Peter always had to be careful, what with the proportionate strength of a spider and all, but that day in his lair, he hadn't had to fret over that since Carlie was just as strong. Of course, there was a reason he always had to be that little bit more careful with her than he'd ever had to be with anyone else...

They'd tried out a few things up on top of his lab before she first asked. They'd both taken turns on the sex-swing, although only Carlie had climaxed so far. Then she plopped onto the sling on her back, her ass swaying before him, upside down on the ceiling.

"Oooooh, you know what I want now, Peter," she whined as he pushed his dick into her from behind. "Give it to me!"

And he did. He knew exactly what she wanted because it was what she always wanted and it was the very thing that worried him about sex with Carlie. She always wanted him to spank her. Peter was always ready and willing to do just that, but it wasn't really his thing. That was more like Harry or something. Peter usually managed to get into it, but he was concerned that he was going to hurt her eventually.

In the time since they'd first gotten intimate, everytime he saw Carlie's ass, it had this red shine to it. He couldn't imagine she was ever too comfortable sitting down. Was that why she was always standing when he'd visit her at the crime lab? Why she always curled up like a cat on his lap on the couch whenever they were at his place watching MythBusters?

Bearing that in mind, he gave her the kind of firm but playful love tap he'd grown comfortable with while they made love.

"Really spank me, daddy," she said in a baby voice. "I've been such a bad girl."

He did it again not that much more hard, but Carlie was having none of that.

"Harder, Peter!" she pleaded. "Don't be a pussy!"

That set him off. His meager paddling before had only confirmed that the tensile strength of her muscles had been increased by the virus, so Peter slapped her ass with the kind of force that would have sent some street punk sprawling across the room. Carlie squealed in delight, her back arching as she shivered.

"Ooh, yeah, daddy," she groaned. "Spank your little spider-slut!"

He still hadn't quite gotten used to Carlie's unique brand of dirty talk. He'd certainly heard filthier things in the heat of passion, but that was from a girl who prowled around in skin tight black leather. When he first met Carlie she had always seemed like such a sweet girl...

"Ah! NO!" Carlie screamed as he spanked her again. "You're not a pussy, Peter..."

Then again, there was that side to her he hadn't seen until they started dating the night of Harry's going away party. It'd been this whole costume affair, and as Peter recalled, Carlie had shown up in a leather catsuit of her own as the Black Cat at the last minute. Where in her closet had she been hiding that all this time?

"Tuh-take my pussy," she moaned as he slowed his thrusts for a bit, just enough to lull her into a false sense of bored security...

He slapped her twice -- once on the right cheek with an open palm and immediately again with a backhand to the left. The way she cried out, her cunt rippling around his hardness as she pushed back into him, Carlie didn't have to tell him to do it again.

He was always reluctant at first, but it just turned her on so much, which made her very generous afterwards...

"Ah ah ah!" she whimpered as he pumped her pussy with the kind of long, lazy strokes that drove Carlie wild in time. "My... my head..." she blubbered... "It's... it's tingling...."

"Me, too, baby," Peter groaned. He didn't atually know what she was talking about, but this was the kind of lie you told someone in the middle of fucking them...

Then the web-swing snapped, and she slipped free from his dick, tumbling toward the floor. Peter launched himself after her, realizing he was an idiot. Of course that'd been Carlie's spider-sense. Had they really been up there for an hour?

In a matter of micro-seconds, they were intwined, one of Peter's arms wrapping around her hips as he twisted his other toward the ceiling. To his credit, Peter realized he wasn't actually wearing his web-shooters before he tried tapping his palm...

From this height, the fall couldn't really hurt either of them, he figured. Unless Carlie, in her inexperience, landed on her head or neck...

Thwip! Thwap!

Suddenly, Carlie's legs were around him and the two lovers were no longer falling so much as swinging wide over his lab. A tangled, naked mess of sweaty limbs slammed against a far wall.

Now, this was usually when, in Peter's experience, he tended to flop down onto his ass, but instead he found himself suspended above the floor, Carlie's legs still ensnaring his torso as she clung to the wall.

"Oh no," she practically growled as he squirmed to get free. "You're not going anywhere, Peter Parker. I need some serious deep dicking."

She effortlessly reached down between them, supporting both their weight with one hand as she seized his cock and rubbed the tip on the wet folds of her cunt. Peter wasn't sure he could have pulled that off, and for the first time he started to wonder if Carlie's proportionate strength might be greater than his...

The way she was gripping his dick like a vice in her fist had him real worried, in fact...

"Now I want it rough," Carlie told him, squeezing just hard enough to elicit a wince. "I'm not some paper doll, Peter. I'm not going to break, so no holding back..."

"No holding back?" He looked at her then, still a little uncertain.

"No limits," she intoned, unhanding his cock but glaring back at him with this steely resolve smoldering in her big brown eyes that seared any of his doubts away.

"Okay, 'spider-slut,'" he grunted as he torqued into her. Carlie just grinned and kissed him as he thrust hard and fast. It wasn't just a hungry kiss. It was more like a devouring. She only paused once so she nip his bottom lip, actually breaking the delicate skin, then she was all over his blood-tainted mouth again, like she wanted to taste it.

Fuck! What had he gotten himself into?

Peter seized one of her nippes and pinched. He felt her kind of giggle into his mouth. Then he twisted it, hard, and she broke the lip-lock, shouting, "That's it, hurt me!" He grasped both of her breasts and used his powers to grip them as he leaned back.

"Oh fuck, daddy, yeah!" she screamed. "Pull my tiny titties out to double D's!"

For fucksake, Carlie, Peter thought. Sure, the lab's soundproof, but still...

Apparently, the novelty of perpendicular missionary position had worn off, so Carlie disentangled her legs from his waist and put her ankles up on Peter's shoulders, pushing him into a semi-kneeling position on the wall. Pete was familiar with the move, but it'd been sometime since he'd done it quite like this... and only once with a woman who could brace herself with her own spider-powers. The obvious advantage was gravity giving you a little hand to get that bit deeper as you plunged cunt depths you'd never felt before.

The way her breath caught as she let herself fall onto his cock, it seemed like Carlie agreed.

"Oh shit, you're soooo deeeeep, Captain," she groaned. "Tuh-take it to launch depth."

Peter was still guarding his strength as he thrust into her, just a bit, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, oh yes fuh-fuck me, you wuss" she groaned. "I'm close... so close..."

Then she lost her grip, dropping them both to the floor.

They landed with dual wet smacks on their backs, next to each other, winded yet laughing. Peter looked over at Carlie, who, grinning, punched him across the jaw before rolling on top of him pinning him down across his chest with one arm while her other hand snaked down his side.

"I said no limits," she smiled, sliding her pussy onto his prick.. "One of us is going to be the other's bitch, Pete," Carlie informed him, still pressed up against his chest as she slowly started to hump him. "You decide who..." she moaned, really riding him now. "If you can."

He would have been freaked and pissed if he wasn't so unbelievably thrilled by her right then. Sure, he made the effort, but as far as he was concerned, this was all for her. If she wanted to dominate, that was fine. Peter was content to just go for the ride for a while.

He felt her free hand gripping his ass, but was too intrigued by the exquisite bliss of her cunt working his manhood to wonder what she was up to until he felt her finger inching toward his anus.

Oh, hell no! he thought.

Maybe, just maybe, Carlie was stronger than him right now, but he'd faced stronger foes in his day, and he was still standing... because he knew what it took to win. And the stakes back then didn't seem nearly so dire right now.

He might have cheated a little, using Weaver's Moment of Peace to kick her up off of him and into his arms as he scrambled to his feet, but everything else was pure instinct. He spun her around, shoving her toward one of the work tables they'd been trying to avoid with enough force that Carlie tripped and her top half fell onto it, scattering beakers and spilling fluids.

"No!" Carlie yipped, her breasts mushed onto the cold, wet metal surface.

Before she could turn, Peter was behind her, holding her down. Then he was inside her again. He watched as her arms slashed against the soaked surface. By themselves, the chemicals he used for his web fluid were harmless and slick. Even sloshed together, the components didn't become viscous until properly heated.

"Oh fuck! Raaaavage me, daddy!" Carlie wailed as he fucked her, loving every bit of it. "I'm your bitch..."

Peter was pretty sure she'd just let him win at this point... that she had just been trying to push the right buttons to force him into giving her the raw, rough and tumble fuck she'd been craving for years. She had played him. Well, if that was what she really wanted...

He pulled out. She was just looking up over her shoulder in surprise when he lifted her up and slammed her onto the table on her back,climbing on top of her. Carlie feigned protest as he mounted her, but it didn't seem too difficult to pin her. One hand kept her arms up over her head while the other found its way to her throat... Just for leverage as he pushed in... Just to keep her down as he reeled back... But her eyes lit up as his fingers closed around her neck, silently begging Do it! Do it now! Peter squeezed ever so slightly... Not even choking her really, but those same eyes suddenly rolled into the back of her head.

"Oh fuuuuck!" Carlie shrieked. "You unbelievable bastard!" Her nails scraped his shoulders and arms as she bucked under him. "I... I'm cumming, you shit!!!"

Peter quickly released her because that was when he knew he was about to lose control and he might accidentally kill her as he started to fuck her relentlessly. Carlie was still shouting obscenities beneath him, but it didn't really matter. He could barely hear her anymore. He didn't stop hammering her until he was done. He was vaguely aware that she might have had a few more orgasms before he finally came, but it wasn't until he'd emptied himself inside her that he felt her soft lips kissing his ear, whimpering "thank you" over and over in short, hoarse gasps.

Thorougly exhausted, Peter kissed her neck soothingly as he crumpled atop her, caressing her face as they both turned to look at each other.

That was a new one, he thought.

He felt like he'd just gone a round with Solomon Grundy, but as Carlie nuzzled against him, stroking the back of his head his her soft fingers, it occurred to him that while he was sure to be just as sore in the morning, the aftermath of his one fight with Grundy hadn't quite felt like this. "So," Peter started to say, "about that Black Cat costume of yours..."

"I love you," Carlie whispered to him then.

She had said a lot of crazy things to him in the last couple of hours. Things that, honestly, Peter couldn't imagine any actual person saying, and he just... really liked that about her. She was off-the-wall and surprising. Right then and there, though, after everything they had just done, this was the last thing he'd expected to hear from her, which was crazy and off-the-wall on his part.

They were definitely at that stage in their relationship, but he... he just couldn't say it back to her. Partly because she'd webbed his mouth shut the second she said those three little words.

"You don't have to say anything," she explained. "Not because of what I just told you. I... I just needed to say it. So that you know that I trust you and hopefully, you can trust me."

Peter eventually realized this had been a test. Not the sex part -- well, maybe... If he'd just torn off his web-gag and told her everything right then and there, they'd probably still be together and that wouldn't have been the last time he'd had sex...

In the brief pause while his mind reeled, Carlie got a call from the station. Peter slowly peeled off his gag as they both dressed.

"It's okay, Peter," she said. "Let's just meet up later. You and me... and Spider-Man."

The next day, he tried to set up the most boring threesome of his life. Him, Carlie, and the web-swinger, sending word through her precinct that Spidey and Peter Parker were waiting for her on the roof. When Carlie climbed up to only find the web-head with the remnants of a reuben while he munched on a pretty excellent cubano, he actually thought he could convince her that "Peter" had been there.

She didn't really seem to buy it, but before she could push the issue, there was a call from dispatch about the Shocker robbing a bank, and after they both swung over to handle it, Carlie Cooper morphed into a giant spider.

The next time he saw her, after he'd cured everybody, she had already packed up the drawer he'd given her in his apartment, forced him to admit the truth, and broke up with him

Okay. Spider-Island had been thoroughly terrible. But the sex! The sex...

The Human Torch had suggested to him during their last movie night -- Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay, Johnny's choice, of course -- that Peter had been spending so much time at work recently out of a misguided attempt to sublimate his most basic, primal urges, and that unless he found a proper outlet for his sex drive, he was going to act out in some outrageous manner, but Pete took that advise with a bigger grain of salt than it deserved. Honestly, Johnny had taken this whole Cosmic Kinsey thing way more seriously than the web-head had ever expected, but the guy didn't have anything but a few honorary degrees from a some well-known party schools.

Peter tried not to think about all that as he tinkered with this new toy he'd been working on. He'd had a lot of time to think about those various corps out in the galaxy, mucking about with rings powered by the emotional spectrum. Will, rage, fear and compassion... He'd learned several months back that those feelings could be manipulated on a molecular level with the right vibrational frequencies. If Peter could generate the correct tone, the next Red Lantern attack might not sweep up Wolverine again...

He was still testing the device's housing when he heard the news report. "Traffic has been suspended on the Brooklyn Bridge as the Hobgoblin and various ninja assassins have assaulted a bar near the East River..."

Peter usually listened to the radio while he worked these days. Horizon was different than when he worked at the Bugle. Back then, he knew what was going on. Now he had the kind of dream job where he could spend two weeks working on a mild radioactive tracer dust so he could track the Sandman's consciousness without poking his head out of the lab.

Sure, Peter could have just gone with a police scanner, but despite all assumptions to the contrary, hi's experience with those things had been disastrous. Sure, you had an up-to-the-minute account of every crime going on in the immediate vicinity, so a right-minded superhero could do everything possible to help out... But in Spidey's case, by the time he suited up and made it to, say, a bodega robbery, New York's Finest had already handled it.

This was why those guys were the real heroes. They didn't need him for the day-to-day stuff as much as he liked to think when he was younger. It was the supervillain incidents they might need a hand with, and those always got mentioned on newsradio.

Peter had given up on WNYX after the management changes. WFSK used to have this great late night show he'd listen to during his midnight patrols. What the hell ever happened to Paige Angel? he wondered for the umpteenth time.

He knew he shouldn't go. Max wanted him in the lab right now. And there were so many other people out there who could deal with this. Both Hercules and Spider-Girl had tussled with this new Hobgoblin that had popped up this fall. Surely, one of them would show up...

But what if they didn't?

*

Barbara thought she'd done an excellent job with her presentation. Modell had seemed primed to sign the deal until he'd made this request for the Man-Bat antidote. She hadn't expected that. But she should have, right? One of the mayor's biggest complaints about the lab was that they'd employed Morbius... Max clearly cared about the guy. Why wouldn't he want to try to cure him?

Was Babs losing her edge?

What else won't I see coming? she asked herself as Modell led her into Horizon's seventh lab.

"Miss Gordon, I'd like you to meet the newest addition to our little family..." Max announced as the door opened. Barbara peered in as she entered. While Lab 6 had been clean and completely in order -- probably because it was empty. Lab 5 had been a bit of a mess. Almost like a thirteen-year-old kid was working there or something. Lab 7 wasn't much better. There was enough clutter to make it obvious someone had been at work, and working hard, but Barbara had some sense that it was a controlled kind of chaos. Like the guy who'd left all of these scattered transistors and circuits knew exactly where everything was when he needed it... Whoever this tech-guru was. Other than the untidy debris, she saw no sign of the man himself.