Chapter 4 – Seeds of Shadow
Months slipped by like oil through fingers, the hybrid world churning with fresh upheavals. Iron Man's armor clanged against Batman's gadgets in uneasy alliances, while Superman's laser gaze scorched Hydra outposts from the skies. I'd burrowed deeper into the shadows, my essence splitting to scout leads on Kryptonian anomalies—whispers of a girl in blue and red tearing through Latin American syndicates. But home base? That safehouse in Berlin had morphed into a fortified lair, warded with symbiote webs and Natasha's traps. She carried our legacy now, belly swelling just enough to curve her silhouette, a secret weapon in the making.
The healing had taken root fast. Two weeks after that cocooned night, her tests confirmed it: pregnant. The symbiote's touch had scrubbed the scars clean, ovaries firing like new, womb primed. She rode the waves of hormones with that spy's grit—morning sickness met with a glare and a protein shake—but the fire in her eyes burned brighter. Our bond hummed constant, tendrils linking us even when apart, feeding her bursts of strength, sharpening her senses. The kid? Already stirring echoes in my core—tiny pulses of potential, half-human fury, half-ooze adaptability.
We'd relocated to a derelict warehouse on the Danube's edge, Vienna's fog cloaking our moves. SHIELD thought her on sabbatical; Fury's one-eyed squint said otherwise, but she fed him ghosts. I handled the hunts, slipping out to drain a low-level telepath in Prague, siphoning mind-tricks to bolster our defenses. But nights? Those were ours. She craved touch more now, body hypersensitive, pussy aching with need that built slow then exploded.
One evening, as thunder rolled over the river, she cornered me in the loft we'd claimed as bedroom. Rain hammered the tin roof, masking the world's roar. Natasha wore one of my old shirts, unbuttoned to bare her fuller breasts, nipples hard peaks against the fabric. Her hand rested on the slight bump, eyes gleaming with mischief and hunger. "Feel this," she murmured, guiding my palm to her abdomen. Under the skin, a faint kick—our shadow spawn testing the waters.
I knelt, pressing lips to the swell, tongue tracing the line where shirt met skin. "Strong already. Like its mother." My hands slid up her thighs, parting them as she leaned back against the crate-stacked wall. No panties—just bare, swollen lips glistening in the dim lantern light. I inhaled her scent, muskier now, intoxicating. Fingers parted her folds, dipping into the wetness, and she hissed, hips bucking.
"Don't tease," she ordered, threading fingers through my hair—hair that was symbiote-forged, shifting at will. I dove in, mouth latching to her clit, sucking hard while tongue lashed the nub. She tasted sharper, essence laced with our mingled life. Two fingers plunged deep, scissoring to stretch her, curling against the front wall where nerves sang. Her thighs clamped my head, moans echoing as she ground against my face. I added a third finger, pumping steady, feeling her walls flutter.
She came with a shudder, flooding my mouth with her release, body quaking. But she wasn't done—pulled me up, yanking at my pants to free my cock, thick and veined from the bond's enhancements. She dropped to her knees despite the belly, taking me in hand, stroking base to tip before swallowing half in one go. Her mouth was velvet heat, tongue swirling the head, cheeks hollowing as she bobbed. I groaned, hands fisting her hair, thrusting shallow to fuck her throat. Saliva dripped down her chin, mixing with rain-scent, as she hummed vibrations along my length.
"Enough," I rasped, hauling her up before I spilled. I bent her over the crate, shirt shoved up, ass presented—rounder now, begging. I rubbed my cock along her slit, coating in her juices, then thrust home. She was tighter, pregnancy's gift, gripping like a vice as I bottomed out. I set a rhythm—deep, rolling drives that slapped skin on skin, balls tapping her clit with each plunge. Her hands braced, pushing back to meet me, cries muffled into her arm.
"Faster," she gasped, and I ramped it, pounding relentlessly, one hand snaking to pinch her nipple, rolling the bud. The other pressed her belly gently, tendril extending to caress the bump, syncing pulses with my thrusts. She shattered again, pussy convulsing, milking me until I roared, pumping ropes of cum deep inside, seeding the life we nurtured.
We slumped together, her back to my chest, my cock still buried as aftershocks rippled. "This kid's gonna be a handful," I murmured, nipping her ear. "Sensing everything—your stealth, my hunger. We'll need to train it early."
She twisted to kiss me, lazy and sated. "As long as it doesn't inherit your mouth."
But peace fractured quick. My scouts pinged—a disturbance in the ether, Kryptonian flare spiking near Budapest. Supergirl, the blonde powerhouse, clashing with a rogue Lantern knockoff peddling power rings to mobsters. Chaos rippled, drawing SHIELD eyes, and worse—echoes of my old kills surfacing in Interpol files. Some assimilated thug's memories leaking? Sloppy. I needed to plug that.
Natasha suited up beside me, her form hugging the pregnancy swell without hindrance—symbiote weave reinforcing the fabric. "We handle this together," she said, holstering knives. "No solo hunts till after."
I nodded, form rippling into tactical guise—sleek black armor over human shell. We slipped into the night, her driving the stolen sedan through downpour, me scanning feeds. The clash site: a crumbling factory district, green energy blasts lighting the storm. Supergirl hovered, cape whipping, fists blurring as she dismantled the ring-wielder's constructs. Power crackled—raw, solar-fueled might that hummed in my senses like a feast.
We parked shadows away, observing. The girl—Kara Zor-El, memories from a drained Kryptonian spy confirmed—landed a haymaker, shattering the foe's shield. But he countered, emerald beam grazing her side, drawing first blood. Opportunity.
"She's exposed," Natasha whispered, spotting the sniper nests—mercs with anti-meta rounds, Hydra surplus. "We tip the scales?"
I grinned, teeth flashing. "And collect intel. That power... imagine bonding a sliver." Tendrils uncoiled from my sleeves, silent as sin, snaking toward the nests. One merc gurgled as ooze filled his lungs, memories flooding: black-market deals, Supergirl's patrol patterns. Useful. Another dropped, rifle clattering.
Supergirl finished her mark, scanning the dark. Her eyes—blue fire—locked on our perch. "Who's there? Show yourself!"
Natasha tensed, hand on her piece. I stepped forward, hands raised, voice modulated calm. "Friends in the shadows. Took out your peanut gallery."
She floated closer, X-ray vision no doubt probing, but symbiote density blocked it. Up close, she was a vision—youthful strength, golden hair plastered by rain, suit torn at the shoulder revealing toned flesh. Power radiated, stirring my predatory core. Not lust, not yet—but hunger for alliance, or assimilation.
"Black Widow? And... you?" Her gaze flicked to me, wary.
"Shade," I supplied, nodding to Natasha's subtle bump—hidden in shadow. "We clean up messes. Heard you could use backup against these ring fakes."
She landed, stance loose but ready. "I had it. But... thanks. World's getting weirder—portals spitting out tech from another Earth, heroes crossing lines."
Natasha stepped up, charm dialed high. "Tell me about it. We're playing the long game. Join us for debrief? Safe spot nearby."
Kara hesitated, then nodded. "Lead on. But no tricks."
Back at the warehouse, dried and cautious, we traded intel over coffee—her on Kryptonian scouts probing Earth, us on symbiote incursions blending worlds. She eyed Natasha's form, sensing the life. "You're... expecting? In this madness?"
Natasha smiled, hand protective. "Strongest armor we have."
I watched Kara, calculating. Her power could shield our growing family, or fuel my evolution. Seduction? Later. For now, plant seeds—trust, utility. The web tightens.
As she left into the dawn, promising contact, Natasha pulled me close. "She's a wildcard. Hot one, too."
"Jealous?" I teased, hands roaming her curves.
"Intrigued." Her lips curved. "But you're mine first."
We tumbled to the bed, her on top, guiding my cock into her soaked heat. She rode slow, belly brushing my abs, breasts swaying as she ground down, chasing pleasure with deliberate twists. I thrust up, hands on her hips, feeling the life between us pulse in rhythm. Climax built shared, her walls squeezing as she peaked, pulling my release deep.
Legacy grows. Threats loom. The predator's brood stirs, and new players enter the hunt.