A very common man, overlooked by everyone, no one special - even though he knew he was so much more than what people saw in him. So he lived entirely for his work, which he had dedicated to thunderstorms, for he admired the power of the thunderbolts and the beauty of the flash. People laughed at him and his odd fascination when he told them about it, therefore he kept to himself and rarely walked among them. Still he worked tirelessly, so that one day they all would see him and recognize him for who he truly was - one day, when he'd be able to tame lightning and thunder and protect them all.

Yet when he told that he could catch lightning with iron and bend it to his will, they called him mad and laughed, and when he invited them to witness it with their own eyes, no one would listen to him.

It was then that his loneliness and disappointment turned into anger and he asked himself: why would I protect those who do not even see me, who don't even recognize me and what I have to give to them? and his wrath grew so strong that he decided to show them all what he could do.

He would be seen. He would be heard. And he would make them pay.

One stormy night, he invited the lightning to his home again, yet this time, he let it flow freely and untamed. His hands held tightly on to his iron contraption as it struck, for he wanted its beauty and, more than anything, he craved its power. And lightning engulfed him. His house burst in flames and the fire devoured half of the city, and in the scorched stones, no traces of him could be found.

The power ripped through him, breaking the constraints of his mortal shell. As he fell to pieces, he embraced this destruction that enlightened the fibres of his being, and it became part of him. He was one now with the thunderstorm and lightning was flowing through his veins.

And wherever he went, he was feared, for he brought death and devastation.

Yet there was still something he craved more than fear. And so a mortal tricked the vengeful god. With the promise of worship and reverence, he lured him into a temple that they had build for him. Too late did the god see that it was built not to praise him, but to bind him. Trapped, weakened and betrayed, all he had left was his endless rage and bitterness, and the people saw storm clouds gathering above the temple and trembled in fear.

They sent sacrifices to the temple to appease the lightning god’s wrath and assure their own houses and families would be spared.

Lightning took them all, one by one, but no sacrifice could ever lessen his anger.

***

There was something odd about this one.

He’d been yelling and fighting when they had led him inside, yet as soon as the temple was sealed shut again, he’d fallen silent.

The accursed god was only offered the unwanted, criminals and prisoners to be punished with death. But this sacrifice was no slave, no criminal, no beggar - his hair was well-cut and his skin clean and unharmed, his posture upright. He was also young, unusually young. There was something haughty, something hurt in his defiance, as he kept pacing the walls of his prison, until the darkness of the night was seeping into the inner sanctum of the temple.

Exhausted, he sank down between the offerings they had brought in with him, wine and gold and fine cloth, and remained sitting there, a small figure wrapped in a white tunic, staring up to the sky above him as he shivered in the cold night air.

Lightning did not strike this night, for the god was still observing.

*

In the early morning hours, after the young man had already drunken his share of the red wine and was dozing, holding one of the jars close to his chest, he was alerted by a sudden presence, like the static of an oncoming storm, and a prickling in the air about him. The jar smashed on the floor as he jumped to his feet and looked about with wide eyes.

“Are you here?”, he asked in a hushed whisper, eyes darting through the room.

When there was no answer, he took a step forward, carefully avoiding the shards of clay as his bare feet tread on stones covered with spilled wine.

“God of Lightning, can you hear me?”, he said, louder, his voice wavering a little as he kept looking for a sign. “If you can, I beg you, please, spare me!”

He stumbled as he turned around, yet when there was no one answering, he got more and more desperate. “ I shouldn't even be here!", he declared, "Look at me.” He spread his arms, and they were all skin and bones, as he presented himself as he was, thin as a wisp and sickly pale. "I’m not even a worthy sacrifice." His pleading tone had a bitter note to it, and there was something familiar about it that caught the god’s attention. “I am doomed already. They just send me here to get rid of me.”

The god knew he was telling the truth. He was already dying, slowly, fading away as his sickness that was eating him alive.

The boy froze to the spot when before his eyes, the figure of a man manifested itself out of thin air. It was as if lightning had taken on human form, its glow blinding and alluring in the dark and there was a buzzing and crackling of immense powers, barely constrained and waiting to be unleashed. Mesmerized by the apparition, the young man couldn't find the words to speak. There was awe shining in his eyes and a smile spread across his face, for he thought the god had shown himself to him to spare him. Now that he had laid eyes on him, he was entranced, thrilled by the pure energy that filled the room, prickled on his skin and hummed in his ears. And he knew, he felt, that the god could do what no one had accomplished - free him of his misery.

“I knew you were here”, he exclaimed. “And I know you can help me.”

The god’s voice was a crackling sound, low, but resonating within the temple’s pillars.

“Lightning will grant you a quick death, not a long creeping decay.”

There was a look of terror on the boy’s face when he saw that the god had not come to be merciful, and he shook his head. “No, hear me out! Please. You can take my life”, he swallowed hard at these words, struggling to get them out, “but not now.”

He wouldn't go like this, silently, to be forgotten.

Apparently encouraged by the silence of the god before him, the boy took a deep breath and declared, “First, I want you to make them pay for what they did to me. They wanted me to disappear – I want them burnt to dust.”

He looked up to the god before him, imploring, yet determined in his anger. “Will you do this for me?”, he was both pleading and urging, “You are a god, will you listen to my prayers?”

He couldn’t possibly be aware that this was the first time the god of lightning had ever been prayed to, and it was the raw need, the hurt in his plea for vengeance, that stirred at a part of him that used to be human once. Betrayed, like him. An outcast, like him. The words almost rang true - but the god did not believe in the sincerity of words anymore.

“I am confined to this temple”, he said simply.

The boy was getting desperate now. “There must be something you can do! After all, we are both trapped here!” And as if he was hit by a sudden awareness of the hopelessness of his situation, he added, now strangely sober but with emphasis, “I’d do anything to get you out of here.”

The god hesitated. This was nothing he’d ever dared to hope for, yet he had he not learned his lesson to never again put his faith in a human?

“You would have to offer yourself to me.”

The boy swallowed at the rather ominous answer, now hesitating. “So, either way you are going to take my life?”

There was no answer. After a moment of contemplation, the boy licked his lips, his eyes shining in the god’s glowing light. He couldn't deny there was beauty in this unrelenting source of power, neither dead or alive, but eternal.

“Before I die”, he began, a bit uncertain, “Can I- can I at least touch you? I want to know-” He faltered, his eyes sore from staring into the brightness, but he did neither dare not want to take his eyes off him. He was not ready to die, but maybe if he got a taste of it, of this surging burning radiance that was so different from decay--

The god knew no mortal could ever touch him. Yet there was something in the young man’s gaze ever since he’d first laid eyes on him that stayed his wrath and cut through his bitterness and captured him against better knowledge.

“Not unless there is lightning running through your veins.”

It was both promise and threat.

And when the god vanished, the boy knew the decision would be up to him.

Lightning did not strike this day, for the god was still contemplating, too intrigued to kill yet reluctant to trust.

*

The sun was setting for the third time when the boy spoke up again.

“Are you still there?” It was but a hoarse whisper from dry broken lips, yet he hoped it would be heard. There was the familiar presence prickling on his skin again that made the thin hairs of his neck stand up.

“I know we are alike. I know you understand what it feels like", his voice was breaking and he took a few shaky breaths to keep himself together. "I’ve got nothing left." As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew they were true. This was all he had, this sick shell was all he was clinging to, and he hated how pathetic he was.

When he looked up, the sparking figure was hovering above the ground before him, in the middle of the temple, and as the boy blinked away his tears, his gaze was again both wonder and hunger. And the god understood.

He loathed his powerlessness, so he craved. He could not bear his loneliness, so he ached.

The god of lightning had no mercy to offer, but even a vengeful god needs company.

“I don’t want to die”, the boy said softly as he got to his feet, his eyes alight.

As he approached the god, every step was bringing him closer to death, but the prickling on his skin and the singing in his bones felt like salvation, like a promise he could almost taste on his tongue. “I want to be with you.” His fingers stretched towards him, the young man reached out, yet stopped as he got close enough to feel the stinging jolts in his palm.

“What will it be like”, he asked, “when I surrender to you?”

Yet he didn't wait for an answer, suddenly aware that he already knew. Instead, he took another step and leaned forward, his head inclined, almost as if to kiss.

And then all around him was white light and searing pain, he was surrounded by it, drowning in it, and his whole body was singing as he breathed lightning, his mouth a voiceless scream. Shaking, he came apart at the seams as his soul was ripped from his dying mortal shell.

There will be lightning running through your veins.

The night was lit by the flash of a lightning bolt that struck the temple, the stone walls burst and crumbled, the floor cracked, and right in the centre of the former inner chamber, it was scorched and pitch black.

*

It is said that with an oncoming thunderstorm, a strange boy would wander the earth beneath the darkening clouds, his pale white skin covered with scars that branched out like lightning against a black sky.

Harry called his name at night, when he was still awake, lying on the couch in the vast, cluttered room, where he seemed oddly misplaced between all these grotesque antiquities and accumulated pieces of art. As the carafe on the table beside him emptied, words would pour out of him, laced with frustration and bitterness. Spider-man wasn’t the only name that kept re-occurring, but there was Peter, and the further the night progressed, the stronger was the overbearing presence of his father.

Max did indulge him, for a while. What kept him there was not so much pity, but the simple fact that Harry seemed to greatly appreciate his company. While he was talking, he never seemed to forget Max was there, listening, and kept waiting for an occasional word of reassurance. And even though he was wary, Max couldn’t help but to be drawn to this new sort of appreciation.

Whenever he was around, he could see it in the way the young man would look up from his work and watch him, transfixed, his eyes alight. He could see it in the way his gaze would linger on him when he interrupted his litanies to regard him, silently. There was wonder in his eyes, curiosity, and something else Max couldn’t quite place.

“You keep watching me”, he observed, one evening, when Harry’s eyes were on him again and not on the screen of the touchpad in his lap.

A smile formed on the young man’s lips, as he put his research aside and leaned over the armrest. “I can’t help it”, he said lightly, but his gaze was intense, and it was still on him. “You are extraordinarily fascinating, Max.”

Electro did not doubt that. Still, he didn’t quite know how to respond.

It was this open display of interest that was keeping Max hooked.

While others always maintained their fearful distance, Harry was drawn to him, both metaphorically and physically. Just like he couldn't keep his eyes off him, he kept approaching him, casually, playing it as a part of making friendly conversation. Yet Max noticed how his gaze was trailing off, distracted by the flashing discharges that lit the plasmic body from within.

Still, things did not fall into place until Harry dropped any pretenses. He drifted off mid-sentence, his hand hovering in the air between them, close enough to feel the static tingling on his fingertips. Eyes darted upwards, questioning, as he apparently remembered the last time he’d tried. Which made it all the more puzzling that he would be so tempted to try again.

“Go ahead”, Max heard himself say, his voice a deep rasp that resonated in the metal frames of the tables.

He watched him, entranced by Harry’s gaze lingering on his black suit and his tongue quickly wetting his lips, as he tentatively reached out, fingers inching closer, closer - Harry jerked slightly as he made contact with the smooth surface of the suit, but Max knew it was out of anticipation more than anything. He wouldn’t get shocked with the suit as isolator between them, not unless Max wanted him to. Becoming more daring with that realization, Harry’s finger traced a line over his chest, carefully, slowly, up to his neck.

“I can feel it”, he whispered, reverently, “All this energy right beneath my fingertips…” His eyes hit Max with sudden intensity, blue in the faint glow. It made Max feel seen in a way he'd never felt before, yet also strangely at loss for words, and he remained silent.

“And you?" There was Harry’s hand on his wrist, guiding Electro's fingers to his own chest, only protected by a thin layer of fabric. "Can you feel me?”, he asked, softly.

And Electro did. He sensed it without touching him, as his fingers ghosted over Harry’s shirt. There was the resistance of dry skin, flesh and water, and his heart fluttering just beneath it, the electrical impulses faint, but beckoning.

“I wonder what it feels like, to you”, Harry mused, fingers brushing over Electro’s hand, his heart a steady rhythm beneath it. Then, softer, lower, with barely hidden excitement in his voice, “I wonder what you could do to me.”

Flirting had never been Max’ area of expertise, neither anything that might follow.

Then again, all of this was new. And Max was curious.

There was this look on Harry’s face again, an unsated craving, and Max knew what he wanted. He understood this hunger, this need.

He, too, wanted to know what he could do to him.

-

This evening, Electro found himself in Harry’s bedroom – or rather, he presumed, his late father’s, with its heavy curtains and enough wiring behind the dark wood panelling to power several pieces of advanced electronic equipment.

He remembered Harry saying he preferred to sleep on the couch because this room was too depressing.

Now however, the Osborn heir seemed at ease. He casually discarded his shirt by flinging it in the general direction of a chair in the corner, before he laid down on the four-poster bed, propped himself up on one elbow and gestured towards the dreary room. “I thought this might add a nicer touch to our little… experiment.”

Harry sounded eager, his smile displaying an almost boyish kind of excitement, but the glance he gave him was searching.

“What do you say, Max?”

Harry’s skin was strikingly pale against the dark green covers, but not entirely unblemished. There were inflamed marks both on his neck and his torso, signs of the sickness already eating away at him. It didn’t suit him, Max thought. It was not right.

"Let's get to it", he said.

Harry beamed at him.

The first contact was careful, measured. Electro brushed the bare skin with his fingers, and Harry, who’d been holding his breath, suddenly let out a hiss. When Electro stopped, however, Harry was quick to reassure him, “No, it’s fine, it’s fine, go on.”

It seemed like the first small jolts had just caught him unprepared, as he barely flinched when Electro’s fingers trailed over his shoulder up to the curve of his neck. Harry’s breath hitched, but aside from the tremor in his muscles beneath Electro’s touch, he kept still. When Electro’s fingertips circled the nasty wound on the side of the neck however, Harry bit his lip to stifle a pained noise.

“Okay, this is- nice”, Harry said eventually, and Max noticed how he shivered slightly as he drew a breath, “but this isn't all you’ve got, is it?”

His lips spread to a provocative grin. “Come on, Max. There’s really no need to be coy.”

Electro could see it inside of him, the small impulses following his nerve pathways through his limbs and spreading over the middle of his chest, the little sparks all over his brain. “Let me explore you”, he demanded, “until I know your body inside out. Then you’ll see what I can do.”

There was a moment of hesitation, yet Harry’s eyes were alight again, his lips parted slightly, and Electro knew he’d let him. Before Harry could word an answer however, he cut in.

“Lose your clothes.”

And Harry readily complied.

He was beneath him, all bare and exposed skin, and Electro was very aware of the power surging through his hands, enough to harm, to bruise, to burn. Yet there was no fear in Harry’s eyes, only anticipation, as he settled back on the cushions.

Harry flinched involuntarily, as he always did at the initial touch, yet he closed his eyes and breathed in slowly.

Each prickling shock was rewarded with a shudder, a sharp intake of breath, as Electro slowly guided his hand over Harry’s stomach, entranced with Harry’s soft gasps and sighs. Following his curiosity, Electro pressed his fingers on the delicate skin just beneath Harry's collar bone, causing him to jerk with a surprised whimper. Red marks appeared on the tissue were the fingers had touched it, but Harry pressed his eyes shut again, lost in the sensation. “Oh, god, this is intense”, he murmured, carefully tracing the irritated spot.

If Max had ever been uncertain about this kind of close intimacy, he didn't remember anymore. This was not like anything he'd ever felt anxious about, and at the same time strangely familiar. There was electricity coursing through Harry's body, and all of it responded to him.

The thin layer of sweat covering the skin now reduced its resistance so effectively, it might as well be an open invitation. Taking it, Electro delved in.

His left hand brushed Harry’s thigh, closing the circuit momentarily, and without a second thought, Electro pressed it to the skin, finally allowing the current to flow. Harry’s eyes flew open as he gasped with pain and surprise, mouth open and contorted, desperately bucking his hips that were helplessly trembling beneath the hands on his waist and his thigh, before Electro released him and Harry’s body relaxed into the mattress again. His chest was heaving and sinking as he needed a moment to recover, but when he looked up at Max, his eyes were oddly clear.

“Max”, he breathed, nothing else, as he put his thin, trembling fingers on Electro’s arm to stay him. He lifted his head and leaned forward until Electro felt the teasing humidity in the breath ghosting over his face. Too taken in by the closeness and the way Harry’s eyelashes covered his eyes as his gaze flickered to Electro’s lips, it took him a moment to realize what Harry was up to. Even then he remained silent, careful not to move as dry lips brushed his. Harry was holding his breath now as he moved in closer, but when the moist soft inside of his mouth made contact with Electro’s lower lip, he jerked back with a yelp. Fingers pressed to his mouth, Harry uttered a belated, “Ouch”.

“You shouldn’t do that”, Electro noted, completely aware that this warning was now rather obsolete.

“I noticed.” Harry gave him a half-amused yet half-accusing look, still tonguing the inside of his mouth. “Ow, fuck, that is pretty nasty", he complained, but as his hand moved down from his mouth, he let it trail over his neck, deliberately touching the irritated skin on his collar bone, and he inclined his head with a sigh.

“You know, I think I liked that better.”

There was something devilish in his smirk.

All it took was alternating the intensity of the current to make Harry squirm and shiver, and when his thumbs dug into the sensitive area right below the ribs, Harry moaned in surprise.

His hands reached Harry's hips and he whimpered, his legs trembling as he arched into the touch, and his craving was almost palpable.

Electro was becoming very aware of his own crackling breath. It took him quite an amount of self-control not to break the skin and set Harry's nerves on fire just to hear the noises he’d be making.

Yet something else kept nagging in the back of his head. It was still not enough. If he was to indulge him, to offer his powers to him, his trust, Harry needed to erase his doubt.

Harry was breathing heavily beneath him, as he very carefully placed one hand right in the middle of Harry’s chest. There it was, stronger and faster now, still beckoning and tempting him. Harry had fallen silent and looked at him now with confused curiosity. “Max, what-…?”

His words ended up as a choked noise. He convulsed under the electric shocks running through his chest, his heart beating erratically beneath Electro's hand, a helpless, desperate jittering. Even though he couldn't scream, his eyes were wide open in panic, but Max held him down, pushing him into the mattress - and suddenly, the throbbing died down and the body beneath his hand went limp. Electro waited, and for a few missing beats, there was nothing but dark silence under his fingers. Then he charged his hands to the right voltage to spark the heart back to life.

Harry drew a few greedy quivering breaths. He was shaking all over, yet either not able to or not daring to move, while Electro’s hand still rested on his chest, sending small impulses to guide his heart back to beating a steady rhythm. He could see the relief rushing through Harry as he was still able to breathe freely after Electro removed his hand, as if he had expected his heart to immediately fail him again. There still was a certain wariness in his expression though, and when he managed to speak, Electro noticed the tension in his weak smile. “Why did you do that? I-…”, he aimed for a lighter tone, yet there was a nervous edge to it, “…I could have died.”

Max recognized the wavering uncertainty in his voice. Just like Spider-man had tried to pretend he wasn’t afraid, while lying through his teeth. He shouldn’t be scared. If he claimed to be his friend, he should trust him, implicitly.

Sparks crackled on his fingertips as increasingly powerful discharges heated him up from the inside.

“No, Max, wait!”, the words tumbled out of Harry's mouth, imploringly, “Please." He still sounded shaky, yet he held his hand up, not in a gesture of defense now, but reaching out for him. “Please”, he repeated, this time almost soothingly, and Max froze as Harry’s fingers ghosted over his cheek. “I was just surprised, that’s all. I mean, you wouldn’t let me die”, he added. “You wouldn’t really harm me, unless I wanted you to, of course. Right?”

Before he knew it, the words came out of Max' mouth, searching, questioning, not yet convinced but tempted to believe. “You do trust me?”

Harry laughed as if the question itself was ridiculous. “Of course I do!”, he was quick to respond when he saw Max’ expression. “Why wouldn’t I?” When Max still hesitated, he took Max’ hands by the wrists to guide them back on his hips and held his gaze, his voice suddenly soft, on the verge of breaking, as he demanded, “Don’t stop.”

Max almost found himself believing.

Harry came apart beneath his fingers, the sweaty skin so vulnerable to Electro's touch. Hoarse moans filled the dim room as he tossed his head back in the pillow, the long bangs of his hair falling into his face in disarray. His seductive cocky demeanor was stripped off, and what Max discovered beneath was more than vulnerability, but something raw and open.

As Harry was twisting on the bedspread, all wordless broken noises, it was in every shiver, in every gasped breath. I need you, I need you.

And it hit right to his core, more so than any of Harry’s appeasing words before. Max couldn’t get enough of it.

He drank it up, pressed his mouth to the wound on Harry’s neck and was rewarded with a half-choked groan. Harry reflexively clung onto him, his hands clutching to Electro’s shoulders, twitching helplessly but unable to let go. Electricity was running through both their veins now, they were connected by the current coursing through Harry's body and Electro's hands.

When Harry fell back on the sheets, panting and shivering, the muscles in his limbs were still trembling from exhaustion and overstimulation. For a while, he said nothing, eyes closed. Max started wondering whether he had fallen unconscious, when Harry finally spoke up.

“Max?”

It was little more than a raspy whisper.

“Yes.”

“Don't leave me", Harry murmured, with this frail, hoarse voice that sounded younger than he was.

And Electro complied. As Harry’s breathing had become slow and even after he’d passed out from exhaustion, Max remained by the bedside, his fingers on Harry’s wrist, the sluggish, constant pulse beating against his fingertips. His eyes were on the slender body, curled up so close to him. He watched him shiver in his sleep, taking in the pattern of the faint red marks on his torso, his collarbone, beneath his ribs, and the reddened skin around his lips, and he memorized them until they paled and faded in the early morning hours.

Only the burns on his chest and on his thigh remained flaming red.

They looked good on him, Max thought.

-

The next day, there were reddened welts on Harry's pale wrist, Electro's fingerprints, clearly visible to anyone who bothered noticing. Harry did not even try to hide them, however, instead he'd absentmindedly run his index finger over the sore skin every now and then.

Max also observed Harry pressing his hand to his chest at times, wincing slightly - and with this knowledge came a strong surge of satisfaction. So the burns hadn’t faded yet. As if he'd sensed his thoughts, Harry’s eyes met his and Harry’s lips twitched into a brief smile. Max took it as a promise.

He’d make sure that they would not all fade away.

He was the one Harry begged for, the one who knew him inside and out.

it was a scar unlike any he’d ever seen before, its fine branches spreading from his neck over his shoulder and to his chest, delicate almost, a stark contrast to the violent surge of power that had ripped through him.

enamoured, his fingers traced the thin lines, still red against the white skin, telling the story of his death and rebirth.

it wasn’t like the inflammations that sprouted arbitrarily all over his body, blemishing and disfiguring him, out of his control. it was a pattern, created by electro’s power and intent, yet formed by the structure of harry’s own flesh and skin, veins and nerves.

"leave your hand like this", he said, holding electro’s fingers in place, so close that they were almost brushing the bit of revealed skin between his shirt and the jeans. with the electricity prickling over his stomach, it was hard to speak as he barely dared to breathe, but despite the wavering of his voice, his expression was determined.

electro’s eyes were on him. “i’ll burn you”, he stated. there was no reluctance in his tone, harry noted, it was just a fair warning.

"i know", he concurred with a sly smile, shivering at the touch and the prospect of more. he moved his hips to increase the contact and urged him with a breathless whisper, "please do."

now he had the permission, electro was very intent on making sure that his administrations would leave permanent damage, and harry was quick to lose his shirt and boots to grant him access to all the spots that were in desperate need of electro’s touch.

sitting on the couch stripped down to his briefs, he guided electro’s hand over his body, hovering over his skin, the prickling static teasing and a bit distracting, but harry wouldn’t let that deter him from their task.

electro was quick to find out how to increase the voltage just so that it would not only irritate and burn, but scar. using his other hand to control the course of the current, electro punctuated the point of entrance with his fingers wherever harry begged him to, his hips, the small of his back, the curve of his thigh, the inside of his ankle.

harry sucked in his breath, careful to not bite his lip, as he grew familiar to the initial singeing pain that would be replaced by a dull throbbing as soon as electro broke the contact and blissful numbness.

as harry inclined his head to grant him access to his throat and his nastiest wound, electro pressed his fingers right on the deformed skin, yet instead of using his other hand, he bent down to kiss the nape of his neck to close the circuit. the errant electricity running down his spine caused harry to gasp and arch his back, the end of his nerves tingling as if there were sparks lighting up his limbs and fingers. electro was claiming all his senses, overriding any other sensation, and harry readily surrendered his body to him.

when he woke up next morning, he was hurting all over, his back was sore, his throat stinging and his ankle throbbing, but he couldn’t wait to get up and see.

he was still pale as death, puffy-eyed and exhausted, covered in bruises, but what harry saw was someone entirely different - he was changed, renewed. there were glaring red marks covering the vulnerable places the sickness had taken hold of, proof that his body that was no longer succumbing to what would eventually corrode him.

harry pressed his fingers on the fine lightning pattern running over his chest, digging his nails into the irritated skin to feel the clear distinct sting.

instead of the itch of his sickness beneath his skin, it was a tingle down his spine, a stinging in his chest and wrists, a prickling feeling in his fingertips that kept distracting him now. his body was singing with energy and harry felt it in every fibre, as he unconsciously brought his fingers to his mouth and brushed them over his lips to savor the sensation.

and he hadn’t even touched him yet. there was a distance they needed to keep not to damage and burn harry’s skin, and it was thrilling, both danger and apprehension, teasing and unbearable tension.

he knew he was obsessed. but he’d had his share confusion and conflicting feelings and it was not like this. this was so very different, he thought, almost defiantly. this didn’t make him feel like he was sick like his teenage infatuation - in fact, he wasn’t even confused.

he was excited, he was thrilled. he was craving - and he had always found it hard to restrain his desires.

it was so hard not to finally close the gap and have it all.

harry bit his finger at the thought of completely losing himself in the overwhelming force coursing over his skin, through his body, making him ache and shiver and burn, to thoroughly purge him of what was eating him alive, his body and his mind.

"you’re still here."

electro’s voice ran right through his flesh and bones, resonated within him, and harry’s heart skipped one painful beat as adrenaline rushed through him.

"i was thinking", he said without any preamble, "of how to enhance our little electro shock therapy."

harry felt his lips stretch to a grin beneath his fingers.

He carelessly stepped over the motionless body, or corpse, who cared about the details, grabbed the carafe from his minibar and poured himself a victory drink with maybe a bit too much enthusiasm, before he let himself fall into the leather chair.

"Cheers!", he announced, lifting the glass up high to salute this beautiful god-sent being that had given him back everything, and took one greedy gulp. The whiskey burned in his throat and he felt fantastic.

Harry Osborn was still in the race, and he was winning. All thanks to him, his new friend, his partner in crime, this man made of sheer unbridled electric energy.

From across the room, Electro was watching him. Despite the distance between them, Harry could sense him. The air was charged with static.

It made his skin prickle and him feel giddy with anticipation, like a boy on Christmas, who had been given unlimited power just waiting to be unleashed on all who’d stand in his way.

"The power grid", Electro demanded, in a voice so distorted, it was otherwordly.

Harry did not let it faze him, he was in a way too good mood right now.

"Ah, before you go, do me a favor", he said and swirled his chair around to face Electro directly. "Lose that suit for a moment, will you?"

For emphasis, he gesticulated with his glass towards him, and his grin widened expectantly. ”Let me admire you.”

The playful grin he gave him was apparently lost on Electro, but for a moment, his weirdly intense eyes were on him. Harry felt his heart beating in his throat but paid it little heed.

Then, after a few very long seconds, Electro complied, and Harry, allowed to witness this extraordinary way of motion again, stared in awe at the body losing both suit and shape, flowing, forming, until it resembled a human again, hovering right above the ground.

It certainly was a sight to behold. This whole being was thriving with energy, alive, pulsing and buzzing, and only barely resembled the man he used to be.

The human shape was only a remnant, really, Harry thought. He was so much more than that now.

Mesmerized, Harry got up, and slowly approached him, step by step. When he got so close the hair on his neck was standing up, he raised his hand, carefully, inch by inch. It was not only reverence that made him hesitate, his fingers still remembered the sudden sting of a static shock.

Even though he anticipated it, the first jump spark made him flinch, yet he did not withdraw his hand.

This was clearly not a good idea, yet the glow pulsating beneath his fingers, the power coursing through this magnificent creature, was captivating, fascinating. He wanted to feel. He wanted to know. He was drawn to it like a moth to the light.

"Say, if I touch you", he asked, hesitating, his fingers hovering above the man’s chest, "will I die?"

"Yes", was the curt answer. Electro wasn’t one to sugercoat things.

Harry nodded, still, it took him some willpower to close his hand and retreat. There was no time for this, not now, not when he was so close to the cure.

"Sorry, it’s just hard not to be fascinated by you", he admitted with a smile. But then, curiousity got the better of him and he added: "Can’t help but wonder how it feels, you know. To be you. But you can’t even feel things like that, right?"

Instead of answering, Electro raised his hand and Harry almost instinctively took a step backwards, yet caught himself just in time. Not a good idea. Who knows if Electro would take that as an insult, and if he did, Harry knew that no running would save him.

So he looked straight into those eerie eyes and forced himself to stay right where he was.

"I don’t need to touch", Electro said simply. "I can see it. I can sense it coursing through the walls, through this city. Even through you."

Harry swallowed, but he did not move, transfixed by the intensity of his gaze. His pulse was beating in his ears as Electro’s hand moved dangerously close to the side of his face, but he remained frozen to the spot. At the first sparks, he flinched involuntarily, more out of surprise than pain, though it was uncomfortable - like little pins pricking his cheek.

"I don’t feel your skin", the distorted deep sound carrying these words was resonating within him and Harry found himself listening, despite his fear, "There’s next to no resistance. I could run right through you."

Harry shivered at this thought and pressed his eyes shut. He was not sure if he was imagining it, but he could swear he felt the electric current prickling under his skin, in his legs and fingertips.

"You", he couldn’t rely on his voice, so he swallowed and quickly wet his lips. "You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?"

There was uncertainty swinging in his words, a vulnerability he fully exploited, desperately looking for trust. And finally, the presence seemed to shift away, the sensation drained out of him, and he was able to breath again.

That was not an answer, but it was enough. Even though Electro could easily switch him off, he wouldn’t. Not now.

It was all he needed to know.

"Wow", Harry said as he dared to move again, rubbing his neck and flexing his fingers. "You just scared the shit out of me."

With a shaky laugh, he quickly took up his glass again and downed the rest of the whiskey, before he took a few deep breaths.

"I didn’t harm you."

"No", Harry conceded, as he unconsciously let his fingers run over his arms, where he still felt the residues of the prickling sensation, "You didn’t."

And wasn’t that the most fascinating part of it.

"It felt— interesting, though", he added softly, absentmindedly tracing the invisible tracks of the current over his shoulder to his chest.

Either Electro did not pick up on subtleties or he was not in the mood to fool around, because did not rise to the bait.

"You got your part of the deal. I’ll leave now."

Actually, yes, he did, and Harry knew he was lucky with that. He should probably just let him go. Electro was getting impatient and it could be a dangerous gamble to keep him around any longer. Also, there was little Harry could do to make him stay.

Except that he wanted him to.

"Wait", he said quickly, and lo and behold, Electro did not vanish into the cables but turned around. Harry repeated it, softer this time, an earnest plea for him not to leave him alone, not now, not yet, "Wait."

And Electro hesitated.

"Max." Harry looked up, inclining his head, keeping their eyes locked. "I’m dying. I’m dying and you are the only one who could save me. You already did, in fact. But you could do more. For me." The begging tone was deliberate, yet raw. "You could make me feel alive again."

Electro did not move, and Harry knew he could not refuse him.

He drew a trembling breath and added, “Please.”

-

Harry braced himself, swinging his arms as he tried to not tense up too much. Electro was waiting, and there was no backing out now.

“Lay it on me.”

His smile was forced, but he knew he meant it, he meant for this to happen. He could take it.

Electro barely flicked his fingers and the jolt struck him like lightning, effectively knocking the air out of his lungs. It ripped through him, like thousands of needles piercing his skin, and Harry staggered backwards, almost falling over his chair before he managed to hold onto it for support.

"Ouch", he laughed, wavering, and pressed his hand on his chest. "Not bad", he breathed as he carefully got to his feet again, "No, really. That was, that was good."

And so very intense. He still was tingling all over, but it was a fleeting feeling, only a small echo already, tugging and teasing. He’d never felt anything alike.

His cheeks hurt when he grinned.

"More."

-

Nothing could have prepared him for that. Not for the heat beneath his skin, burning though him, piercing his flesh. He didn’t remember when he’d hit the floor, he could barely move, he couldn’t breath. The pressure was omnipresent, overwhelming, and he was writhing on the floor, twitching helplessly. It was too much, too much— but in the blink of an eye, it was over.

Harry’s breath was labored, and he could barely prop himself up. Everything hurt, but that was a small price, he was used to the aching. This, this was something different. No creeping sickness that made him toss around in his bed at night. Every fibre in his body was humming, and he was alive, so alive.

Electro was above him, and these eyes saw him, saw right through him, as he was trembling from exhaustion beneath him. The unmoving face was not much to go on, but Harry was sure he had to be intrigued.

And what a tease he was. One second, it was too much to bear, but as soon as it stopped, it was not enough.

"Again", he demanded, as soon as he found his voice. It still trembled horribly, just like his fingers as he tried to get rid of his jacket. He was so unbearably hot, but his muscles weren’t obeying him anymore, so he only managed to half-wrestle himself out of it.

Expectantly, he looked up and waited, but when Electro did not comply, Harry steeled his tone, to show him he was indeed ready. “Again.”

-

He had collapsed on the floor, a shaking, trembling mess.

"Please", he was unable to keep himself up anymore with his muscles twitching uncontrollably, "Please, Max", were the words he was mouthing, whispering, even audible between his sobs, he wasn’t sure, "I need you, oh god, please, I need—"

Raw energy was surging through him, filling him, purging him. It was inside of him, surrounding him, his entire body in flames, and all was hot and white.

-

When he jerked back to consciousness, he felt it still in his bones - the ache, the residue of Electro inside of him. His breath was unsteady and shallow, but it did not bother him. It was alright, he was untouchable, elevated, he was floating, and numb, so deliciously numb.

With a weak smile he noticed that he was indeed no longer on the floor, but that Electro was lifting him up with some sort of electromagnetic force field.

"You were gone", he said, and Harry was not surprised to hear little concern, after all Electro had brought him back with ease.

Harry closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. It hurt, but it felt fresh, new. No trace of sickness crawling beneath the surface, the curse was silent for now. His body was cleansed.

"You alright, boy?", Electro asked.

"Oh, yes", his exhausted smile widened, "And I will be even better."