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Yet another humble day of being New York's most beloathed hero had brought Peter to a water treatment plant on the outskirts of Manhattan.
Word was Dr. Curt Connors—or, his less handsome alter ego, the Lizard—had been spotted in the area, and since Spider-Man barely had any friends to begin with he really couldn't afford to let them transform into intolerant reptilian supremacists. Friendship, love, not exterminating humanity—him and the Lizard disagreed on so many things, it could never work out.
So here he was, freshly mixed Lizard-antidote shoved into his belt, meandering down the road, hoping to spot or be spotted by the reptile half-man sooner rather than later so he could get out of here.
The place stunk (and frankly so did the whole evening) but this was the least Peter could do. Connors had a wife and kid, and they both ended up worried sick whenever the scalier side of him began to show. Peter couldn't blame them. His past tussles with the Lizard had left him convinced that the creature was not suited for family life, or really any type of life other than trying to rip well-meaning spider-people to shreds.
As he turned a corner, Peter's spider-sense tingled and he knew he'd hit pay dirt.
He tried not to give the forewarning away as he casually sauntered closer to a manhole that was definitely the source of its concern. When a loud clang of metal being struck rang out and the cover flew through the air it was still shocking aplenty even without the element of surprise. Honestly, he thought the Lizard would show a little more finesse in its ambushes, but this one still got the job done as Peter was quickly pinned to the ground with a toothy maw descending on him.
"Ssspider-Man," rumbled the creatures on top of him.
"Lizard! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Peter grunted as he struggled against the scaled bulk, straining to keep the Lizard's face—and open mouth—as far away from himself as he could. "My, what big teeth you have."
Above him, the Lizard's long tongue flitted out, almost brushing against his face as the creature gave off a series of throaty clicking noises.
"You…are my inferior," it eventually hissed. There was a haze to its eyes; one that seemed to obscure the intelligence Peter was used to seeing in them. "Ssso inferior…and yet we are compatible."
Peter wasn't sure what that meant; there wasn't a single scenario in which he'd call himself and his current attacker compatible.
He gave an awkward chuckle. "I mean, I'm a Libra, but—" Without warning, the Lizard's clawed hands ran down Peter's side and slid under his thighs, lifting his hips to pull him towards it. "W–whoa! You actually—?"
The Lizard's tongue flicked against his clothed wrist, the long muscle rubbing against the fabric, almost caressing the tendons beneath. In his shock Peter's arms folded, allowing the creature to crash into him, but even then that strong jaw did not snap closed around his throat. Rather, it pinned him, teeth on both sides of his neck in a clear threat, but not tearing into the vulnerable flesh. Its cold breath rolled over his heated skin with every exhale.
"Want." Its grip tightened around him. Drool dripped onto Peter's suit, plastering the fabric to his face. "Need."
"Sorry, Lizzy, but I don't get cozy on the first date!" Peter planted both palms flat on the Lizard's chest and shoved it back as hard as he could, separating them faster than it could react. He scrambled to his feet, dodging a lunge and following it up with his own tackle, wrestling the Lizard to the ground as it snarled angrily beneath him—which was the perfect opportunity to dump the antidote into its open mouth. "Now take your medicine like a good lizard."
By all means it should have worked; Peter was holding the Lizard's head down, forcing it to sputter and swallow the mixture. That should have been more than enough to turn it back into Connors—so why was there no effect? All the Lizard did was growl low before lashing out again, forcing Peter to dismount and leap back to avoid a sharp claw swiping through the air.
As Peter put some distance between them, he watched as the creature hissed and panted under its breath with no sign of reverting back to the human he knew was trapped inside.
The whole situation was off, and the Lizard's quietness didn't make it any better. Normally the two of them would banter a bit as they fought—do a bit of back-and-forth about the ethics of reptiles conquering the world while the Lizard belittled his whole species' intelligence—the usual stuff.
This time he'd barely gotten a full sentence out of the creature. Something was very wrong.
An anguished roar broke the silence as the Lizard barreled towards him again. This time Peter observed that the creature wasn't trying to slice him up with those sharp claws, but merely trying to grab onto him. It wasn't looking to kill, but to subdue.
Did that mean this was its way of trying to snare a mate?
His musings led him to dodge a nanosecond too late. One of the Lizard's scaled hands—the same one Dr. Connors did not have—caught his, the claws piercing through the fabric of his glove and into his skin, not yet harming him but definitely not something he wanted to receive more of.
Swiftly, before the Lizard could attempt to grapple him further Peter wrested the glove off of himself, rasping a shallow wound into his palm as he pulled his hand away from the creature and thwipped away on a webline towards the nearest building—though not before slinging one of his spider-tracers to stick to its scaled skin.
It was almost too easy, and when Peter landed on the building's roof he could see why: the Lizard was entirely focused on his abandoned glove, holding it up as its tongue flicked out to smell—maybe even taste—the fabric.
Now, last time Peter checked there wasn't anything interesting about his gloves other than the sheer volume of hand sweat they manage to absorb between washes, but to the Lizard it seemed like the most entrancing object in the world, at least for a few seconds. Then the spell was broken and the creature screeched, spinning wildly in place, tongue darting out to taste the air—presumably in search of the glove's owner.
Peter stayed down, pressing himself low against the roof and praying that the stench of the water treatment plant would drown out his own scent.
Several breathless moments passed in which the Lizard continued its frantic search, worldlessly scanning its surroundings as its eyes and tongue darted to and fro. It screeched another angry cry of frustration, before quadrupedally slinking back to the manhole with Peter's glove in its mouth and disappearing into the sewers beneath.
Peter breathed a sigh of relief. Despite his spider-sense giving the all-clear, he opted to wait a few minutes longer before moving from his spot and swinging back home.
If he really did have a lovesick reptile on his hands he'd have to figure out a solution, stat.
—
There was a strong contender for why the whole lustful lizard deal was the thing interfering with the antidote, Peter reasoned as he cleaned the cut on his hand in his tiny, mold-infested bathroom.
Strong emotions made it harder for the Lizard's influence to fade. Usually the thing that would trigger Dr. Connors' transformation was intense anger or fear, and Peter had learned that the worst thing you could do when faced with the reptile side of a human/reptile scientist was allow it to get more upset. Maybe that was the key here? What the Lizard was struggling with was some sort of base almost-emotion, right? Like a weird mating frenzy? If that was enough to block the effects of Peter's antidote, then maybe when that instinct went back down it would allow it to take effect?
Assuming it happened while the serum was still in the Lizard's system, that is.
The easiest thing would be to sit back and wait for the frenzy to fade on its own. It's not like there were a whole lot of candidates for a lizard-monster version of the Bachelor, so Peter could hardly help the Lizard find release that way. Surely it wouldn't take that much time for it to run its course. How long could a lizard's mating period last, anyway?
Peter tapped the question into his phone.
"…Months?!" he squeaked into the quiet air, the shock echoing off from his bathroom tiles.
Months. Entire, multiple months. Sometimes half a year, depending on the species.
Oh god. That was not going to work.
Intelligent or not, the longer the Lizard ran rampant, the likelier it was that something would happen that would get Curt Connors hurt. And even if that didn't happen, the strain it would put on the man's family to not know where he was or when he'd return home would be too intense.
Peter had to do something.
—
This was the terrible idea to end all terrible ideas.
Zigzagging around in the sewers while trying to get a ping from his tracer, carrying a web pouch filled with items that had made him flush red in the comfort of his home while packing, desperately praying that the smell wouldn't stick too bad to his suit—no one would call this the best of his plans. And the end goal? Running into a horny lizard and letting it give its horny lizard instincts a whirl.
Yeah, Peter wasn't too proud of this one.
That didn't change the fact that the only way to get Connors back was to either subdue or satisfy the Lizard's urges, and Peter didn't think a cold shower was going to cut it here.
And again—it's not like he could go on monster Tinder looking for a match. Even if there was someone of a similar biological makeup that was interested, there was a risk that Connors would break through almost immediately after and find himself cuddled up next to whomever—whatever—the Lizard had fallen into bed with. Traumatizing stuff for a guy trying to live a normal life. Besides, Peter really didn't want to be the one to wrest a lovesick monster lady away from him.
And, well…the Lizard had wanted him. Or at least, that's what it had said.
The tracer he'd stuck to the Lizard was somewhat helpful in finding his way; sometimes he'd find a dead end and had to find a way around despite the buzzing in his head telling him to go straight through the brickwork. Eventually he found a broken-down wall with a tunnel that was definitely not on the official blueprints, but that his spider-sense was yelling at him to go through.
After a few minutes of walking, the tunnel opened up into a larger, cave-like area. Rough stone lined the walls and floor, and over in the corner, by a fading campfire, Peter could see a distinctly lizard-shaped figure with its back to him.
This was such a bad idea…but that was no reason to get cold feet. The sooner Peter got the Lizard's attention, the sooner he'd be able to bring Connors back home.
He cleared his throat as he moved closer. "Did someone order a spider?"
The shape swivelled in place, backlit by the dying fire as it faced Peter. "Ssspider…Man…" it hissed, taking a step towards him.
"The one and only." Peter clutched his web pouch tighter. His instincts told him to create more space between them, to go someplace where he'd be harder to reach. He squashed them down. "Here to cure what ails ya."
With a start, the Lizard broke into a run towards him, and even though his spider-sense remained quiet Peter had to fight every bone in his body not to leap away to safety. He planted his feet and held a hand up in a soothing gesture.
"Hey, relax! I'm—" His breath was knocked out of him as the large reptilian form crashed into him, pushing them both to the ground, teeth and claws already tearing at his suit. He could feel the scratch in his hand get split open as he was pushed down. "I'm a willing participant!"
The Lizard growled low under its breath. "Too long. Fickle. Tormenting me. I wait no more."
In the corner of the room where the Lizard had just been, Peter could see his glove lying against the ground. It was in one piece, but looked pretty worse for wear, and almost shiny with moisture. He didn't even want to think about what the Lizard had been doing to it in his absence. That, in conjunction with the smell and how his pants were getting shredded by a rowdy half-beast, convinced him he'd be better off getting a whole new costume after this.
He tried to help peel his suit off, but his hands were quickly swatted away. There was a tearing sound as the Lizard, prioritizing efficiency over manners, ripped a hole into the part of his suit that stretched across his ass. If there was ever any doubt as to what was expected of him here…
"Jesus," Peter laughed, an edge of hysteria lining his voice. "You're kind of overeager."
"You took long," the Lizard hissed. "I waited long."
"Yeah, well, I had to take a shower. You drooled all over me."
"Sssilence, mammal." The Lizard bared its teeth in threat as it manoeuvred Peter's legs back and up towards his shoulders, bending him in half unceremoniously. "No more talking."
Something hard brushing against the back of Peter's thigh stopped him from quipping anything back. Whatever was poking him was rough against his skin, and almost bumpy in form. There was little doubt as to what it was, but Peter still had no idea if what the Lizard was planning to do—what they were both planning to do, really—was even biologically possible. At his current angle, folded like a sandwich, he couldn't even see below its hip.
"Yes good," the Lizard murmured, lapping at the blood on Peter's hand. "Good quiet. Good mate. Compatible."
The slurred words didn't do much to ease the anxiety churning in Peter's stomach.
There was no way he could do this without getting a good idea of what he was getting into (or into him), so he wrested the Lizard off of him, pushing it to the ground and crawling on top until he could pin it by the shoulders.
It made a series of strange guttural clicking noises, but other than that the creature seemed to accept his manhandling.
Even if it hadn't, Peter was more than a match for the Lizard—he had to remember that. He was tough; he wouldn't break. That last part echoed through his mind like a mantra as he moved down, finally laying eyes on its sex.
Hoo boy.
It was long, yes, but not to the point where it was much bigger than a human's dick could be. But the girth…the girth almost frightened him. It was massive. Thicker than his forearm. Not to mention the ridges on that thing. And were those spikes??
The meager amount of fingering he'd done in the shower prior to leaving his apartment felt woefully inadequate in comparison. His spider-sense was blaring just looking at the thing.
Luckily he'd thought ahead enough to bring lube. And condoms, but those weren't gonna fit that cock, much less make it through their activities without getting shredded from the inside by those bumps and protrusions. Seriously—there were spikes! Sure, maybe there wasn't much for him to catch from a strange man-lizard hybrid, but it still wasn't a very reassuring start. He sure hoped they were incompatible from a reproductive standpoint.
Peter dug around in his discarded web pouch, eventually pulling out a half-empty bottle of silicone-based lube. If they were going to do this they were going to do it right.
The Lizard hissed impatiently as he put the pouch down next to them. Peter would call it embarrassingly needy, but he'd never dealt with a mating frenzy himself, so he had no leg to stand on. Regardless, he locked the Lizard's legs in place with his, trying to keep it docile by hovering that slightly-bleeding hand over its mouth, where it could nip and lap at his skin.
"Just stay still and let me do this." He tried to sound confident, but he couldn't help a slight waver in his voice. His hands shook as he uncapped the bottle of lube, pouring a generous amount onto that ridged cock until it pooled around the slit the lizard member protruded from. There was a second one mirroring the first. Of course it had hemipenes; it was still a lizard after all. Hopefully it had enough in common with standard lizard biology to only use one at time. The thought of trying to take two of them at once made him go dizzy.
It also made his dick throb inside his suit, but that didn't mean it was a good idea.
Beneath, the Lizard kept up a constant low growl of either warning or frustration—Peter couldn't tell—and it got louder as his hand came in contact with the Lizard's cock, the stimulation feeding into whatever it was feeling. Too bad—Peter was in the middle of something here.
Once he'd slathered on enough lube to cover every inch of the Lizard's penis (one of them, his mind supplied unhelpfully), he moved to try and work himself over some more. In the state he was in right now he could take an ordinary cock just fine, but what was going on here was anything but ordinary.
Perching himself with an arm behind him, Peter lifted his hips and carefully entered a finger into his hole. He was already loose, but two of his digits spread still gave him pause. He'd need a lot more before he could even attempt to fit that monster inside him. He huffed as he entered a third, almost slumping back down as he tensed up from the intrusion.
Claws dug into his thighs as the Lizard growled again. "No more…"
"Yes more—"
"No!" the Lizard roared, breaking free of Peter's grasp in a frenzy and enveloping his midsection with strong arms. Before Peter could begin to struggle its jaw closed around his shoulder, sharp teeth following immediately.
After the initial sting of piercing teeth, everything seemed to slow. To Peter's knowledge the Lizard had never produced venom before, but that was the only reasonable explanation for the cold, pulsing pain that radiated out of his shoulder. His spider-sense quickly went silent. Soon the pain faded, and he couldn't seem to command his muscles enough to shove the Lizard back.
It must have been a sedative. The science geek in him would have been thrilled to theorize every which way about the nature of the toxin, but before he could collect his thoughts the Lizard was turning him over and depositing him back onto the ground on all fours, and all he could do was grunt and be annoyed as a weight on the back of his hips pushed his knees harder into the dirty stone floor.
Then, he was pulled back and something hard and wet and ridged smeared lube over the back of his thigh, startling him back into consciousness with the realization that he was about to have that ridiculously oversized thing inside of him.
Adrenaline rushed through his body, breaking through the haze of the sedative. "W–wait, I'm not ready—"
"You strong." Rough hands spread him, pinpicks of sharp claws barely felt under the influence of the venom. "Compatible."
"That doesn't mean—nngh!"
His hips were hauled back forcefully, asscheeks bumping against that same hardness he'd felt with his thighs. As it pushed against his entrance he could feel how much larger its circumference was than anything he'd ever taken.
Panic clawed its way up his throat as he tried to thrash and tear himself free of its grip, but his arms and legs were like lead, barely able to keep him upright, much less break free.
There was no way—no way—it could fit. It just wasn't possible. Peter's pulse pounded madly through his veins. Even with his enhanced durability he surely couldn't manage to stretch around it. He'd break.
The Lizard seemed to disagree. Peter's cheeks were gripped harder, pulled further apart to the point where he thought he was going to be torn in half from the force of that alone. Teeth dug into his backside, injecting more of that strange toxin into him again, forcing the tension in his lower body to dissipate. The next time that ridged cock slid over his hole he could feel it give way, arousal surging through his body as his rim almost seemed to beckon it in.
Then the Lizard lined their hips up properly so that its hard head pressed against him and Peter's pulse was pounding through his head once more.
"Listen, maybe we should just try hand stu—!"
The words were ripped from his throat as a powerful thrust rolled against him, hard enough to succeed in the impossible, pushing the tip of the Lizard's cock inside him.
It was like nothing he'd ever felt before, like his mind couldn't comprehend what was being done to him. He couldn't speak, or even vocalize; all he could do was choke out short little grunts—a quiet stream of 'uh hh uh uh hnhh' sounds—as the Lizard inched further, its own array of guttural clicks mirroring his noises.
It was too big. It was absolutely without a shadow of a doubt too big for him. His spider-sense was ringing, fighting through his fatigue to inform him that this was scary and dangerous and liable to get him hurt—which was less than helpful, as anyone could have figured that out without a supernatural premonition aching through their head.
Fear and worry and warnings did nothing to deter the Lizard. Peter felt it push deeper inside him until sparks of pleasure began to shoot through his core as his superhuman body made the impossible possible.
His poor rim was taking the brunt of it; not only stretched beyond belief just to envelop the Lizard's engorged sex, but suffering more abuse every time one of those raised ridges were pushed inside. They weren't hard or sharp enough to seriously injure, but he still couldn't help but moan brokenly whenever he felt them scrape against the sensitive ring of muscle, putting further strain on it.
Eventually, the Lizard bottomed out, scaled hips flush against Peter and he—fuck, he'd never felt so full in his life. Would they even be able to come apart or was he stuck here for life, impaled on the biggest dick he'd ever laid eyes on?
That question was answered as the Lizard began to pull back. And if the feeling of its cock entering him had been intense, the sensations as it withdrew were overwhelming, each inch sparking electric pleasure, dull pain and a general feeling of too much all the same.
"Oh god," Peter sobbed, head hanging low. "God, just—fuck—!"
He'd forgotten about the spikes, but now as he was pushed forward, further from the Lizard's hips, he could feel them, situated close to the tip of its cock. They must've been angled down, almost like an umbrella, there to make sure the Lizard wouldn't slip out of its mate—or to make sure they couldn't get away. However, as the Lizard withdrew, he instead felt them scrape down his inner walls. They didn't hurt nearly as much as he'd thought, somehow soft in texture, but they were absolutely incomprehensible to his feeble human brain, mind abuzz with strange pleasure he'd never even thought about feeling.
Nerve endings he didn't even know existed were aflame at the movement, sending tingles up his spine and making him shiver, arms and legs trembling to hold him up. His dick was halfway to erect just from the slow thrusting, but it felt secondary to the pleasure wracking through him from the inside.
A push forward and then a pull back. This time one of those spikes rubbed right up over his prostate, and his vision almost whited out.
He was going to come from this if the Lizard kept it up long enough. His head was swimming with pleasure from its pistoning—from the way it seemed to plow. It was a relentless sensation of waves crashing through him but never fully fading, like static building up in his body, and he was just waiting for that inevitable shock that would fry his brain. Somehow there was more anticipation to that wait than he'd ever thought possible.
Another bite to his shoulder had Peter lolling forward, collapsing onto his elbows as his arms went too weak to hold him up.
The Lizard covered his body fully, bending over him and pressing him into the ground. "You no move."
Something shifted, and then the Lizard's cock was grinding directly into Peter's prostate before slipping deeper, making him squirm, desperately trying to angle his hips to hit that spot again. He didn't care that he was dirtying his suit and drooling into his mask; didn't care how wanton it was or how ashamed he'd feel later, or that there was moist breath on the back of his breath and a warning huff from the creature. He needed to feel it again, push that pleasure far enough for the wave to crest, for the shock to be unleashed on him.
Sharp teeth pressing into the sides of his neck forced his movements to a stop.
"No move," came a growl, accompanied by another puff of air against his neck. Peter keened, trying to undulate his hips, move them in any way possible despite being pinned by the throat, but when the Lizard wanted him still there was nothing he could do.
The new angle allowed the Lizard to slam into him faster, deeper, less controlled but with more than enough ferocity to make up for it. Its teeth twitched against his throat, causing pinpricks of blood to well up but Peter barely registered it; he only wanted more of that bone-deep pleasure, pain be damned. He ground his cheek into the dirt, a frustrated whine spilling past his lips until the Lizard shifted again, deepening its angle further.
"Yesyesyes, unh, yes—" he babbled uncontrollably, twisting his hips and clenching his insides to squeeze around the reptilian length over and over. "H–harder! Please!"
There was no telling whether the Lizard was listening to him—or if it was even capable of understanding him at all by now—but whether by luck or his begging being heard, Peter got what he wanted. Relentlessly, that ridged cock kept sliding against his prostate, faster and faster, every uneven bump putting the most delicious pressure on it as Peter gasped on the ground.
The pleasure built throughout his body, weighing heavy in his limbs and filling his chest until he couldn't fit air inside his lungs. And then, all at once, it broke. His muscles quivered trying to release it all at once, thighs shaking as they flexed around nothing, fingers and toes curling until they cramped as he spasmed on the ground, mouth open in a silent scream as the most intense orgasm of his life rolled through him.
When he came back to the Lizard was still going, pistoning into him viciously, and he could feel that pleasure building right back up. The head of his cock rubbed against the stone, fully erect with no sign of flagging, and groggily Peter realized that while the inside of his suit was wet, it was only through the precum weeping out of the tip. He hadn't even released.
As his second climax approached his eyes almost rolled into the back of his head. His balls tightened almost painfully as another dry orgasm rolled through him, and his cock ached for stimulation, but the way he was pushed down with the Lizard on top made it hard to do anything, much less reach for his neglected erection.
When the third climax hit him he was fully drooling against the ground. By the fourth he was screaming himself hoarse, his voice echoing around the cave along with the harsh sound of snapping hips.
When Peter felt himself approaching that edge a fifth time he resolved to give his cock the attention it needed, but as he shifted the Lizard growled, its maw threateningly beginning to close around his neck. A scaled hand pushed down on his shoulder, forcing his arm to a stop.
"Ssstay," it hissed, its hips continuing to pound into him.
"I am," Peter snapped back, followed by a deep groan as one of those ridges rubbed his prostate perfectly. "Fuck—you think I'd ever leave this?"
The Lizard gave no response, but its grip on his shoulder lessened, and he took that as permission to continue. He had to, or his brain would eventually end up turning into mush along with his body.
Once he managed to get his arm under him he almost short-circuited from how sensitive he'd become. He hissed as his fingers lightly brushed against his balls, trailing through the sticky perspiration before coming up to grasp his shaft. He'd planned to take it slow, but he was so keyed up from the previous orgasms that all it took was a light squeeze to his erection and he was coming with a shout, eyes clenching shut and teeth gritting as he released inside his suit, hips thrusting down against the floor in a chase for more touch.
Behind him, the Lizard grunted, tugging his hips back against itself but otherwise paying Peter no mind, continuing to thrust in and out of him despite the way he was sobbing from overstimulation, chasing its own bliss with single-minded focus. By the time it got close Peter was wet all over—covered in sweat, tears, saliva and cum as he was relentlessly slammed back against those scaled hips. The Lizard's pace increased with telltale intensity, losing finesse in favor of more speed.
Peter whined under his breath as the thrusting crescendoed into one final push when the Lizard drove itself as deep as possible and came, the feeling of hot-but-not-human-hot release being deposited inside him making him give one last worn-out moan. The Lizard released its grip on his neck as its tongue licked under the seam of his mask, collecting the fluids pooled there and tracing the inside of his panting mouth while it clicked contentedly.
Its cock softened inside him, decreasing in girth as it began to retract back into its slit. He could still feel the ridges shift against his walls and his rim, but it wasn't as intense this time around. Despite that, he couldn't help but to weakly whimper as the tip—along with those soft spikes—finally left him with a pop.
His hole struggled to close, twitching and clenching around nothing as he felt more empty than he ever had in his life. Although at the same time he could feel the Lizard's spend inside him. Filled up with lizard jizz, was the thought that ran through his head as he sprawled out over the ground. What a weird night.
A reptilian arm wrapped around his midsection as the Lizard curled around his body. Though sluggish with approaching sleep, it nuzzled into his shoulder-blade, clearly still possessing the etiquette to go for a post-mating cuddle.
Peter, however, had no such intentions.
"Yeah, have a nap, Lizzy," he said as he stroked along the Lizard's right arm—the one that would shrink away once it turned back into Curt Connors. "I'll be here when you wake."
And he would, but he was not going to be in a ripped-up suit, dripping with sweat and other unmentionable fluids as the transformation occurred. He'd thought ahead enough to bring a spare spidey-suit. It was still going to stink, but that was par for the course at this point.
He gingerly extracted himself from the sleeping Lizard's grip, grabbing his webpouch and the items that had spilled out of it and getting back on his feet. Despite some brief wobbling he could carefully tip-toe to behind a nearby outcropping to get changed—while shamefully using the ruined suit to wipe off any excess fluids dribbling down his leg.
—
By the time he was done the antidote had already taken effect.
"Dr. Connors!" Peter exclaimed as he peeked back around the corner and spotted a much less scaly human man curled up on the ground.
Curt Connors groaned with exertion and pushed himself to stand on wobbly feet, rubbing his head with a wince. "Spider-Man? Do I have you to thank for my recovery?"
"Yeah." Peter hurried to his side, propping Connors up with an arm around his shoulders as he teetered close to falling. "No worries, though. You know I've got your back."
"Thank you, my friend." Connors steadied himself on Peter as they began to walk out of the cave. "And for what it's worth, I'll always have yours."
A well-timed twinge of pain in his backside made Peter flush beneath the mask. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah…Now let's get you home, Doc."
He sincerely hoped this was the last time he'd have to deal with the Lizard. If they ever met again Peter was pretty sure he'd die of embarrassment. That, or instinctively strip down for the railing of a lifetime.