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It’s been nearly two weeks since everything — since Cletus Kasady’s unofficial execution, since fleeing San Francisco, since a casual confession on the beach, and since Eddie rented a shitty room with what little money he has on an island he doesn’t know the name of — and, despite it all, Eddie finds his mind is more peaceful than it’s been in a long time. Even if there is still Venom’s thunderous commentary crackling through his skull almost twenty-four-seven, it doesn’t bother him like it did weeks ago. Maybe it’s that he’s gotten a bigger supply of chocolate, or that he’s letting Venom bite off a head or two if they come across a bad guy (which, scarily, he might be starting to enjoy), or that they’ve watched through almost two seasons of Acorralada within a week of discovering it.
After this we should watch Abismo de pasión.
“Do you even know what that’s about, or are you just saying that because David Zepeda’s in it.”
He is a very compelling actor.
Eddie snorts. “We haven’t even finished this one, man, hold your horses. Don’t be…thinking about David Zepeda instead of paying attention.”
I am far more capable at multitasking than you are.
“Okay, I get it, you’re better than me at everything,” he says. “Didn’t we agree we were gonna be nicer?”
We didn’t agree we were going to lie.
“Well, sometimes lying is better. Little lies, they make you, y’know — they hurt people less.”
Lies are not a healthy foundation to a relationship.
“That’s…” He pauses, letting the words set in. A relationship . He knows that it doesn't haven’t to mean anything more than what it says in the dictionary — he’s a journalist, okay? He knows all about words. But that means he also understands connotations. He has to, or else he wouldn’t be able to tear people apart the way he likes to, dissecting their verbiage and adding his own flair to twist the reader to see his side of the story. He knows Venom must understand, too. A relationship.
“That’s a good point,” he mumbles. They haven’t really talked about it, the aforementioned confession, the one that Eddie couldn’t answer with the adequate words. It almost doesn’t feel like they need to talk about it, although Eddie knows that communication is definitely a healthy foundation to a relationship. It’s just that having someone in your head doesn’t leave much in the way of secrets — not quite everything is laid bare, Eddie knows that much, but enough of him is splayed open for Venom that talking isn’t always essential. It’s enough to lay in bed watching telenovas; to walk down the beach at sunset and digging crabs out of the sand for Venom swallow whole; to sit in the sand and let Venom pool around him, threading between his toes and under his knees, skirting at the edges of his ribcage, sliding a tendril around his finger.
He swallows, moving his arm down to rub at his stomach, where his shirt has ridden up to show a semblance of skin. He pushes it up further as he rubs against his sides, his naval, and just above his low-riding boxers, fingertips skirting against his pubic bone. His dick twitches in the confines of his sweatpants.
Eddie sucks in a breath. It’s not like he hasn’t been hard in front of Venom before. Not like he hasn’t jerked off in front of him, either, although the first few times were disastrously humiliating enough that his boner had flagged before he even got to come. A few times he’d been able to convince Venom to behave well enough that he was able to finish, but with Mulligan breathing down his neck, his business with Kasady, and the nagging tension in his skull, he hadn’t done it very much.
Maybe that’s also contributing to their improved mood, he considers, continuing to rub lazy circles into his skin. He read somewhere that orgasms make the brain produce more phena…whatever the hell it’s called. And their island getaway has certainly given him more time for that.
Are you going to touch it or not? Venom growls, impatience evident. Eddie almost feels bad for him — they share sensation, after all. Eddie’s practically teasing him. (His dick gives a twitch at the thought.)
“Yeah, yeah, okay, just- give me a minute, buddy,” he says. “It’s nice to go slow sometimes, y’know?”
Venom makes a thoughtful sound, but doesn’t add anything else. There’s really no need for words — Eddie can feel his impatience pushing at the back of his skull. He can’t help but let out a chuckle, which turns into a breathy gasp as he wraps his fingers around the base of his cock. He can feel Venom’s satisfaction; it’s practically dripping down his spinal cord, being fed directly to the few neurons he has left in his brain, more potent than any drug he’s ever tried. He chases that feeling, and it pulls his mind into blurry fantasies — fingers tugging at his hair; thighs clenched around his face; tight wetness around his dick; a tongue sliding down his throat; being slammed into the ceiling, rendered prone, and—
No, no, no, not that one. Go back, go back, he urges his mind, but it’s too late; he can already feel Venom stirring, grabbing onto that thought like he’s ensnaring prey.
What are you thinking about, Eddie? he asks, as if he doesn’t already know.
“Nothing! Just…remembering our fight.” It’s not technically a lie. “I think I still have bruises,” he adds, forcing a laugh.
You don’t. I healed them for you.
“Oh. Uh, thanks?”
There’s silence for a moment, and Eddie’s dick is still standing at attention, and there’s almost been an ample enough pause for him to touch himself when Venom speaks again.
Did you like that, Eddie?
“Did I— Like what?” he says. “You throwing me around my fucking apartment? No, I didn’t like that.”
Not that, you idiot, he says meanly. When I incapacitated you.
“When you—” His face flushes. “No, no, I didn’t— That wasn’t—”
Your adrenaline is rushing now just thinking about it.
“Fine, okay, yes!” he admits, throwing his hands in the air. “Is that what you wanna hear? It’s- It’s not that weird, okay? Tons of people are into bondage.”
I see, Venom says, and Eddie can feel him flipping through the memories associated with the word, and immediately regrets giving name to it.
You like control taken away from you, Venom concludes after a moment. You like not having to take responsibility.
“What? ” Eddie says. “Can you not analyze my fucking sex life, man!”
‘Sex life’? Now there’s a joke.
“You’re a goddamn amoeba, what the hell do you know about—”
Do you want me to tie you up?
Eddie’s brain skids to a halt.
“What?” he says stupidly.
That would make this more enjoyable, wouldn’t it?
“That’s, um…” He swallows, and his dick twitches. “That’s not, um… There’s usually a bit more…leading up to that.”
More? Venom echoes.
Eddie flushes, ignoring the way his dick gives another twitch at the way Venom’s voice reverberates through his skin. “More…more conversation, I mean, and more, um… People are usually pretty close when they do it, I mean, it’s not, uh. It’s not something most people do with their buddies.”
Are we not close, Eddie?
He laughs at that. “That’s not what I mean.”
And we’re not just buddies, are we, Eddie? he continues. We are closer than you could be with any human. Why would this be strange?
“I just— Do you really— Would you—”
Yes, he says, because when Eddie’s mind is this loud, of course words aren’t needed. Why else would I offer, you imbecile.
“Then… Yeah, okay, yes,” he says, too flustered to comment on the insult. “I guess I should— I should take off my— I should get naked, right?”
You should, Venom quickly agrees, tendrils already poking out from Eddie’s skin to tug at his clothes. I will take care of that.
“Okay,” Eddie says dizzily, as Venom strips him and tosses his clothes carelessly onto the floor. He’s been naked in front of Venom before, of course. In the shower, while he’s changing. Never while he’s gotten off, though, and somehow the removal of that barrier is…significant. He swallows thickly.
“So,” he says, “how are we gonna— Whoa .” He’s cut off by Venom puppeteering his arms behind his back, and the familiar sensation of black ooze pouring out from his pores, this time wrapping tightly around his wrists, holding them together against the crease of his lower back.
“Oh,” he says. He experimentally tugs at the restraints, which hardly budge against him. “Oh, shit,” he groans, dick starting to leak against his bare stomach.
Another mass of ink emerges from his skin, and this time he can see it as it wraps around his ankles, and then as it snakes up his calves and around his thighs, holding his legs together in a tight grip. Somewhere in the back of his mind Eddie realizes that all of this is unnecessary, really — if he wanted to, Venom could keep Eddie still without all this; pose him like a puppet, constrain him to this same pose without ever showing himself. But maybe he knows (he definitely knows) that this is what Eddie likes. The feeling of rope around his wrists, almost tight enough to bruise. And it isn’t quite the same, too slimy and organic to be anything near the texture of what he’s used to, but he really can’t say it’s a turn-off.
“Oh, shit,” he says again. “This is— Wow. Yeah. That’s…good.” Satisfaction rolls through him in waves. “I just, uh… How am I supposed to, uh, y’know…” If his hands weren’t bound behind his back, he would make an awkward gesture toward his crotch.
You don’t need your hands for that, do you? he says. There’s a mocking lilt in his voice that makes Eddie shiver.
“I think I do, buddy,” Eddie laughs. Unless Venom intends on making him sit there. And, well. That’s not really a turn-off either, the idea of being made to sit, humiliated, dick achingly hard as he’s unable to find release.
You just need friction, Venom says, and twists Eddie’s head to look down at the bed. The implication is clear, and it makes Eddie’s head spin.
“Fuck,” he says. He swallows and slowly leans down, letting his head rest at the end of the bed. He whimpers when his dick first rubs against the fabric of the sheets, and in response his restraints tighten against him, shocking a choked sound out of him.
“Fuck,” he says again, and starts to piston his hips against the mattress, which feels luxuriously plush underneath him. He humps the bed with pent-up desperation, the pre leaking from his cock making the motion smoother as he goes. Fuck, he’s gonna have to wash the sheets. Especially with how much he’s drooling, too — he can feel the wet spot growing next to his cheek.
The tendrils around his legs slide further up, wrapping around his thighs, further restricting his motion. He pumps his hips again, but it’s hardly enough to give any friction.
“C’mon, man,” he groans, and it comes out more desperate than he intended. “I can’t— I can’t do it like this.” But he doesn’t stop trying while he talks, dick sliding unsatisfactorily against the mattress.
You give up so easily, Venom says. Have some tenacity!
“I have plenty of tenacity! Look, I can’t—” to demonstrate, he jerks his hips again “—I can’t work like this, man, I can’t.”
Venom lets out an overdramatically exasperated sigh. Fine. I guess I’ll have to do everything myself around here.
Before Eddie can ask what he means, his hips jerk forward of their own accord, his dick sliding perfectly against the mattress. He can’t hold back a dramatic moan at the sensation, and Venom continues to pull his hips forward and back, making him rock against the bed at a punishing pace.
“Holy shit— Venom— oh, oh God,” he whines, and his face flushes deeper as he listens to himself.
I was right, Eddie, Venom says, tendrils tightening again. You enjoy having responsibility taken away from you.
“Shut— up, oh my God, you’re— fuck, Christ, oh my God,” he babbles, not sure what he was even trying to say there. He presses his face into the mattress to keep anything more embarrassing from spilling out of his mouth, but something hand-like grabs at his hair and wrenches his head back up, pulling a moan out of him.
Don’t pussy out.
That punches a laugh out of him. “What? I’m not! It’s just embarrassing, okay?”
Why? Venom asks, like he truly doesn’t understand. You sound good.
Eddie’s dick twitches, and it’s then that he realizes that Venom’s not controlling him anymore; at some point, Eddie’s the one who began maintaining the rhythm of his hips pressing into the mattress. “You’re killing me here,” he groans, and feels the restraints around his legs tighten again, just slightly, and Eddie nearly chokes. “You can’t just…say things like that, while you’re— while we’re—” He’s cut off by an intense feeling of satisfaction curling in his gut, a sensation which has been growing with every word that leaves his mouth. It sends a shiver across his entire body.
“Jesus Christ, man,” he says, voice coming out strangled. “We’re— You’re—”
Spit it out, Eddie, Venom jeers, punctuating his mockery by grabbing hold of Eddie’s muscles and pushing his hips forward, his dick sliding perfectly against the bed for one brief moment that shocks an embarrassingly loud “Ah!” out of him. But Venom stops at just one, leaving Eddie on his own again to struggle to find any sufficient friction.
“C’mon, man,” he pants. “We just talked about how we agreed to be nicer. Can’t you— Can’t you be nice to me?”
He’s not even sure what exactly he’s asking for with that request. But he feels Venom stirring inside him — deliberating.
Hmmm, he hums. The sound seems to echo through Eddie’s very bones, up until it stops, and it’s silent, and Eddie might feel awkward if he couldn’t literally feel Venom turning over options in his head. If only he could see what they were.
Fine, he finally says. But only if you ask nicely.
Any other time, Eddie may have put up a fight. But in this situation, those words send jolts of arousal tingling down his spine, and it doesn’t take him long to choke out a, “Please?”
Once again, satisfaction unfurls from deep inside him. But more tangibly than that, he can feel Venom materializing near his hips, and he—
“Whoa, okay, alright,” Eddie says, as he feels Venom’s tendrils wrap around his dick. “This is happening.”
Was this not what you were expecting?
“No, no, not really,” Eddie admits. He’s not sure what he expected, really. You open up the doors to bondage with the alien parasite living in your kidney, the next logical step is…well, something like this.
I am trying to be nice. Remember?
Then Venom’s tendrils make some sort of undulating motion around his dick, and it punches a high-pitched moan out of Eddie’s throat.
“That’s— Yeah, that’s nice, yeah,” Eddie babbles as the tendrils begin to stroke him in earnest. “Really nice, actually, it’s — oh, fuck, oh, God.”
Eddie’s mouth keeps running with equally unintelligent commentary, none of it being processed before or after it’s said, all of his brain power focused solely on the feeling of Venom’s tentacles sliding up and down his dick, pulsing and squeezing in a way that Eddie can only describe as alien. Maybe he should be disgusted by the frankly inhuman way that Venom’s inky not-flesh feels against him, but he really can’t be bothered to analyze whatever level of fucked-in-the-head he has to be in order to be so turned on by it.
It helps matters that Venom seems to know how to touch Eddie better than he knows how to touch himself, as if he knows every button to press to make Eddie squirm. And maybe he does, now that Eddie considers it. It would make sense that Venom would know what to do — watching Eddie masturbate, cataloging every little touch and motion until he knew exactly what to do to make Eddie come completely undone.
As he’s considering that, he doesn’t even notice the tendrils manifesting at his chest, not until the ends of them curl around his nipples, and Eddie jolts. That’s not an area he’s explored much, but as Venom makes an experimental tug at them, he definitely regrets not getting to them earlier.
“Oh, fuck,” he moans, and Venom tugs again. “Harder, you can pull harder, you — ah, fuck.” The tendrils around his nipples twist, and the mass writhing around his dick does something that Eddie can only describe as a pulsating motion, and he has to bite down on the sheets to keep himself from shouting loud enough that the whole island would hear.
Don’t be shy, Eddie.
All at once Eddie’s body is puppeted into a seated position, so suddenly that he almost falls onto his side before Venom shoots out a tendril to help balance him. Familiar finger-like forms grasp at his hair and angle his head downwards, where his eyes immediately catch on the motion of Venom’s tentacles sliding up and down his dick.
“Oh God,” he chokes out, heartbeat ratcheting up a notch. He’s sure that the sight of black, slimy tendrils stroking and squeezing his dick should be at least somewhat disturbing, but it barely registers as anything other than dizzyingly arousing for Eddie. And the ones on his chest, they’re thinner, like string — but as soon as his attention is on them they start to morph, adding mass, until they’ve become a somewhat flat imitation of hands, which squeeze at his chest.
“Venom,” he moans, unable to take his eyes off himself, to tear his gaze away from the way Venom pumps and squeezes at his cock, how those hands get around his nipples again and tug, and he’s— he’s—
“Oh God, oh God,” he babbles. “Fuck, man, that’s—” The restraints on his wrists tighten, and a moan is ripped out of him. “Holy shit, Venom, please, I’m— I’m gonna—”
The tendrils around his dick and chest dissipate, leaving him teetering on the edge, and an embarrassingly pathetic whine comes out of him.
“What the fuck?” he groans. “I was right there, man, why did you stop?”
It feels like Venom is about to answer, but Eddie’s dick is so painfully hard that he can’t wait, and he slumps back down, angling his dick to line up with the mattress. Not exactly how he wanted to come after all of that, but he can’t be bothered to care at this point, desperate enough that anything will do. He jerks his hips forward, and— Nothing happens. He tries again, and lets out a groan of frustration when he realizes that Venom is holding his muscles hostage.
“What’s your problem?” he demands.
I have something I’d like to try.
“Okay, what— Oh.” He feels Venom palm at his asscheeks, and instinctively he pushes himself up into the touch. “Okay, just, hold on, okay? I haven’t… It’s been a little while, y’know? You’ve gotta be nice, go slow.”
Of course, Eddie, he says. I know what you need.
He shivers. “Okay. Yeah, go ahead, yeah.”
There’s a pause, and Eddie wonders if he should have mentioned lube when he feels something warm and wet and familiar start licking at his hole. He lets out yet another embarrassing whine, and Venom’s voice rumbles wordlessly through his body. Eddie is tempted to describe it as something close to a purr, but ascribing it such a terrestrial label doesn’t seem right. The way the sound travels through his body like electricity through a livewire is completely foreign. The sensation of it makes his body tense and his cock twitch.
Relax, Eddie, Venom says, tongue still lapping at his ass. I can’t fuck you if you’re tensed like this.
That knocks the wind out of him. “Right,” he wheezes. “Yeah, you’re right.” He swallows and relaxes his muscles, and Venom makes a noise of satisfaction before gently beginning to probe at Eddie’s asshole. True to his word, he goes slow (almost agonizingly so), and he lets Eddie’s body open up at its own pace. Eddie’s imagined the situation before, of course — how could he not, after Anne-slash-Venom shoved their tongue down his throat? It would probably be more abnormal for him not to imagine that thing up his ass. Still, his past fantasies don’t prepare him for just how good it feels, warm and wet and incredibly dexterous, and he can’t help himself from rocking back into it.
“Ah,” Eddie gasps, when he feels the telltale, knee-buckling sensation of Venom’s tongue pressing into his prostate. “Right there, right there, holy shit.”
Venom starts pumping his tongue in and out, stretching Eddie further while continuing to give lavish attention to his prostate, and— Jesus. Eddie likes anal, he likes it a lot, but he can’t remember it ever feeling this good. There’s drool pooling by his cheek from his open-mouthed panting, and Venom’s movements are sending jolts of pleasure straight to his dick.
Venom pulls out his tongue, and Eddie whimpers, about to complain, but then he feels a thin tentacle enter him, and whatever grievance he was about to voice immediately dies. The tendril starts small, only barely touching his walls, and slowly fills out as it breaches him. It has the same vague slickness that all of Venom does, amplified by the copious amount of saliva acting as lubricant for it. And then it stops, staying just shy of his prostate, and Eddie growls in frustration, a noise he’s never heard from himself before.
“Come on, man,” he says, pushing himself back against the tendril as best he can. “Please, c’mon. You can feel how close we are, can’t you?”
I can. I just like to see you squirm, Venom says, meanly. You can’t really blame me. It’s very attractive.
His face reddens, and a bolt of arousal shoots through him. He knows Venom feels it, too; smugness curls through him in waves.
But you’re right, he continues. I should be nicer.
Finally, finally, Venom presses against his prostate, and Eddie lets out an unabashedly loud moan.
“Fuck, fuck me,” he says into the mattress.
Unexpectedly, Venom doesn’t start moving. Instead the tendril stays where it is, pressing against his prostate again, and again, and again, with the kind of precision only possible from a fucking shapeshifting alien that’s in tune with your every bodily function.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh— God, holy shit, Venom , you’re— aah.” He can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed about the string of unintelligible moans being pulled from him, too singularly focused on the feeling of that tentacle rubbing perfectly inside him, sending waves of pleasure through him like he’s never felt before. He can’t see it from this angle, but he can feel his dick leaking like crazy onto the bed, begging to be touched — and desperately, Eddie starts begging, too.
“Venom,” he chokes. “Man, please, let me— let me come, it’s so good, it’s— Fuck, man.”
Eddie, Venom hums, drawing out the last syllable so that it vibrates through his bones.
“Please,” he moans again, and nearly sobs when he feels a tentacle wrap back around his dick. It pumps him in time with each press against his prostate, and it’s so much, so much more than he’s ever had, and he considers that sex with humans might be ruined for him forever, because nothing could ever compare to this, and he’s so close, he just needs—
Eddie, Venom says again, tightening the bonds around his legs and his wrists, and that’s what finally sends him tumbling over the edge, and he comes with a shout, his whole body shaking with it. Venom gently pumps him through it, and then all at once dissipates, leaving Eddie to sag into the bed like all his bones have turned to jelly.
“Holy shit,” he eventually says, voice cracking. He slowly sits himself up, cringing at the mess of come and saliva he’s left on the bed sheets. Despite his bonelessness, he almost feels energized — Venom must be feeding off the chemicals in his brain, he realizes. That’s gotta be a buffet compared to his normal masturbation sessions, because…holy shit.
You did good, Eddie, Venom says. That makes Eddie shiver a bit. Of course, I did all the heavy lifting. As usual.
“Just when I thought we were having a nice moment,” he grumbles, flopping onto his back. The pillows are predictably unyielding, and he cringes. Not quite as bad as falling onto a bunch of rocks (which, of course, he’s done many times at this point), but it probably comes close, if not just because of the disappointment. He glances down at his feet and sighs.
“Fuck, we’re gonna have to wash that. Or burn it, I dunno.”
You really did make a mess.
“No, no, no, do not blame this on me. You were just going on and on ‘taking responsibility,’ and about how you’re ‘doing the heavy lifting.’ By your logic, this isn’t my fault at all!”
Venom hums thoughtfully at that. Fine. I will help you deal with it.
Eddie huffs a laugh. “You’re more agreeable than usual,” he says. “Maybe we should do that more often. Not this instant,” he adds hastily, feeling Venom’s excitement at the offer. “I’m probably out for the rest of the day. But, uh, we can go try to find some guys for you to eat, I guess.”
Yes! Venom says. At least five.
“Jesus, okay,” Eddie says. (Apparently he’s more agreeable, too.) “Gluttony is a sin, y’know.”
He gets up and starts pulling the sheets off the bed, which Venom does actually help with, folding them so neatly that Eddie doesn’t bother pointing out that they’re going to get wrinkled in the washing machine anyway. Wherever the hell the washing machines are around this place, that is. He’s pretty sure they’re supposed to have room service, but he’s absolutely sure that no one has cleaned their room yet. Maybe that’s for the best, considering he doesn’t want to make anyone else deal with this.
He sits down on the edge of the bed, scratching his head. There’s probably a laundromat around here somewhere, he supposes. If not he might really burn the sheets, more out of humiliation than anything.
Eddie, Venom interrupts his thoughts.
“Huh? Yeah?”
Are you ready to say it?
“What? Say what?”
Is it not one of your human traditions to express fondness after intercourse?
“Sure, yeah. I did! Don’t try to make me out like some asshole.”
That’s not what I’m talking about, Eddie, he says. You know what I mean.
Heat creeps down his neck, but he plays it off. “Nope. No idea, buddy.”
Yes you do! Venom insists. You can’t lie to me.
“No, I’m totally blanking. And I’m really tired, actually. That took a lot out of me.” He lets out a dramatic yawn and lays down. “I think I need to, uh, get some rest.”
That yawn was fake! You are being a coward.
“Well, if you already know everything, I guess there’s no need for me to say anything.” And besides, now that he thinks about it, he really could use a nap.
Loser, Venom hisses.
“Right back atcha, babe.”
He drifts off (still completely nude) without noticing how his heart seems to stammer, not of his body’s own accord, and he dreams about swathes of flesh and teeth and tendrils.