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Kiss the skin that crawls from you

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Four months after, well, everything, things have slowly settled into a rhythm. Eddie’s had his job back for close to ten weeks and he falls back easily into his old patterns: sleep in, work until he’s run out of leads for the day, get cheap take-out, and then fall asleep once exhaustion hits until he wakes to repeat the cycle all over again. It’s good for the most part. Familiar. Now that he’s got Venom with him, the loneliness of the routine doesn’t bother Eddie anymore. He’ll never be lonely again. Having to head into the less savory parts of the city to find something for Venom to satisfy his appetite with a few times a month doesn’t seem like a bad trade-off for that.

The point is, it’s good. It works for them. Eddie didn’t really plan on anything to change in the near future, which is why one of his sources asking him out after their interview comes like such a surprise. She’s cute, in a librarian sort of way that Eddie can appreciate, and he agrees to meet her for drinks after a long moment of hesitation. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but these days he has more than his own wants to consider. He and Venom are still getting used to each other, and so far Eddie has managed to avoid this particular subject, unsure of how to proceed. In all honesty, it didn’t even cross his mind.

Venom is suspiciously quiet during the entire evening, and Eddie’s more unnerved by it than he should be, only half paying attention to what his date is saying. Their conversation, which this very morning flowed naturally, becomes stilted and awkward as a result, Eddie missing his cue to ask another question or even to answer one more than once. She grows more reserved as the evening goes on, and Eddie doesn’t blame her, exasperated with his own behavior.

When she tells him she has an early start and should get going, he doesn’t put much effort in convincing her otherwise. She kisses him goodnight, which is honestly more than he deserves. Eddie is relieved to know he didn’t creep her out entirely, although he doubts they’re ever going to see each other again. Walking the mile or so it will take him to get home sounds like a decent idea just about then, and so he skips the bus stop, keeping his head down as he heads up the hill towards North Beach. He hasn’t taken more than ten steps when the unnerving silence in his own mind finally gets broken.

She’s not a good kisser.

Eddie snorts, kicks an empty can that’s right in his path. He’s practiced answering Venom in their head, but there’s little point now. A guy talking to himself doesn’t draw more than a hurried glance from anyone else around here. Business as usual. “How would you know? You never kissed anyone.”

I kissed you.

The answer gives Eddie pause, shakes something loose he’s not willing to examine too closely. It’s not like he didn’t suspect, Anne told him after all, but it still was nice to imagine that at least a little part of that night in the forest was her doing as well.

You should be with Anne. We like Anne.

“Yeah, well, she has someone.”

Eddie likes Dan. It’s not easy to like the person the woman you love is sleeping with, but Dan is just way too decent a guy. It says a lot that Venom never once suggested to eat his head right off his shoulders so far.

Venom drops the subject and Eddie is grateful, not looking to pick at the wounds their break-up struck anymore. He doesn’t call back his date from that night, even though he thinks of shooting her a text to apologize, maybe even suggest to make it up to her if she’ll let him. It doesn’t seem like a good idea. He still wants to get back out there, if only to prove he hasn’t become a complete recluse, and luckily getting a hook-up these days is just a matter of the right bio and a few swipes, instead of trolling bars and chatting up strangers in the hope that they’ll give you the time of day. Or more accurately, night. Eddie’s a writer, it’s not like that shit is hard.

He sticks to guys, wanting to avoid anything that could remind him of Anne for now, and thanks deities he’s never believed in that he even has that option. The guy he settles on is a couple of years younger than him, and a physiotherapist or something. Eddie has to be honest, he wasn’t really paying attention, more interested in the big hands, thick curls and the rumbling voice he gets treated to during the quick call as they figure out the good old ‘Your place or mine?’.

Again, Venom is fairly quiet throughout the process, only piping up when Eddie is already on his way. Eddie swears he does it on purpose, taking pleasure in forcing him to either talk to himself or struggle to phrase the answers with nothing but his mind.

This one is different.

Eddie doesn’t see the point in deflecting. “He’s a guy.”

A long pause, considering. Does that matter?

“Not to me.” Do aliens even have the concept of gender? Eddie sighs. “This is a me thing again, okay?”

It’s become sort of a code between them and Eddie snorts when he thinks ‘safeword’, feels Venom’s answering confusion and curiosity.

What’s the point?

Eddie glances around to the other people hurrying along the sidewalk, lowers his voice until he’s muttering into the collar of his jacket. “I like sex! I want to have sex again in the future, so you’ll have to find a way to deal with it.”

If you say so.

That’s really the best reaction he could hope for.

Marc, curly-haired and rumbly-voiced as advertised, turns out to be a pleasant surprise. He looks exactly like his pictures and doesn’t treat this as anything but casual, which is extremely fine by Eddie. He takes the offered beer with thanks and five minutes later they’re already on Marc’s couch that’s much nicer than anything Eddie has back at his shithole apartment. Marc’s hand is underneath his shirt and they’re kissing, his tongue slick and tasting faintly of the craft brew they just drank.

This is better than with the other one.

Jesus. ‘Shut up,’ Eddie thinks as hard as he can, which isn’t very hard if he’s being honest. Concentrating on his own thoughts and separating them from the rapid pull of his other senses has never been his strong suit. There’s a reason he failed so miserably with Mrs. Chen’s tapes. They’ve gone from making out to peeling off each other’s clothes now and Eddie only has a moment to appreciate the clear cut of Marc’s abs before that familiar voice slinks into his thoughts again.

He’s different than you.

Eddie really isn’t in the mood to start explaining the concept of circumcision to Venom just now. Pushing Marc back, he slides to his knees, gratified by the soft groan he gets in return when he takes his dick into his mouth. So far Eddie has never met a guy who didn’t like getting blown by him, knows exactly how pornographic his mouth looks stretched wide with a cock in it.

He’s not very big.

Eddie nearly chokes, glad he has an excellent excuse at hand. His thoughts are a jumbled mess but his outrage gets the point across.

‘He’s my size!’

Hm.

Jesus fucking Christ. Put that one down as a blow to his ego. Eddie increases his efforts, and by the sounds Marc is appreciating it, but he finds that his thoughts keep circling back to Venom, the urge to explain himself becoming harder to ignore by the minute. He finally fails when he’s bent over the back of the couch, Marc fumbling with lube and a condom behind him.

‘I like average.’

Liar.

Eddie flushes. Venom can’t read his mind at a whim exactly but he’s gotten very good at triggering memories, and interpreting from the resulting response. Trying not to think of a specific memory usually does the opposite.

Have you had bigger?

The sly curiosity hits him low in his belly and the memory floats to the surface unbidden, perfectly clear. It’s been years, but Eddie has used it as mental material in his spank bank too often for it to have become faded over time. He can still remember exactly how the splintered wood felt beneath his hands as he braced himself against the stall door, the thick split of a heavy cock in his ass. It was some guy he never saw again after that, and it’s probably a little pathetic how much he still thinks about a quick bar fuck years afterwards, no matter how big the guy’s dick was.

We should find him.

“No!”

It takes him a couple of seconds, Marc’s rhythm faltering – and fuck, he’s sort of completely forgotten about the dude actually fucking him during this little interlude – before Eddie realizes he’s said it out loud. Shouted it, really. Fantastic.

“Is everything okay?” Marc asks, clearly concerned. He’s already started to pull out, and Eddie tries to grab at his hip, turns awkwardly when he doesn’t manage, nearly toppling onto the couch in the process. Jesus, this is a disaster. His mind is drawing a complete blank as he grapples for an explanation, which is ridiculous. Eddie does nothing but spin bullshit all day long at his job; he should be able to come up with an excuse. Still, he has nothing, and watching Marc’s erection wilt sadly within the increasingly looser condom doesn’t do much to make him think this is salvageable.

“I think maybe I should go,” Eddie mumbles. “It’s not you, my mind’s just…on other things right now.”

Isn’t that the truth.

Marc frowns and there’s no small amount of hurt in his expression. Eddie feels like such an asshole. “You’re still hard.”

Eddie glances down, shrugs awkwardly as he fumbles for the jeans around his ankles. What is he supposed to tell the poor guy? Yeah, it’s because my alien symbiote reminded me of that time a dude dicked me down in a bar stall years ago, I mean, really gave me the business?

Yes.

“No,” Eddie growls, finally managing to button up. He winces when Marc’s expression becomes even more bewildered. “Not you- I mean, I gotta go.”

Walking back to his apartment is terrible, but Eddie’s still too on edge to call an uber and deal with the minimal social interaction involved. His cock still hasn’t gotten the message that proceedings were unceremoniously called off, rubbing uncomfortably against his damp briefs and the seam of his jeans the entire way. Eddie keeps his hands deep in the pockets of his hoodie to pull down the hem, not keen on being branded a pervert by walking around with a pretty obvious erection. The fact that his ass is still slick, since he didn’t get a chance to clean up, doesn’t exactly help matters.

Venom has grown quiet again and Eddie tries to shove that particular nugget of thought to the back of his mind, the hows and whys not really something he wants to deliberate just then. Even he’s not dumb enough to think it might be remorse at play.

He’s never been so glad to shoulder open the door to his apartment, the smell of stale Chinese food and the dim noise from the street doing nothing to dampen his relief. Shrugging out of his jacket, Eddie tosses it onto the small kitchen counter as he tries to make a beeline for his bathroom. There’s only a split second of warning, the by now familiar feeling of his body being manipulated before his feet stop like they’re glued to the floor, Eddie lurching uncomfortably as the momentum still carries him forward.

Get on the bed, Eddie.

Jesus. It feels like the bottom of his stomach drops out at the words, the hair at the back of his neck prickling. Eddie desperately tries to tell himself that his cock didn’t just twitch, wonders why he even bothers.

“No.” He tries towards the bathroom again, ends up flailing his arms as he’s dragged backwards and deposited on the bed, which groans its protest, the ancient springs squeaking violently.

“Don’t do that!” Eddie snaps, now honestly irate. Venom’s been doing better at not using their body as his personal puppet, usually just intervening when Eddie’s in need of his help. Being reminded that he decidedly isn’t the only one in control of his own limbs shouldn’t come as much of a surprise anymore, but just then it does, his pulse quickening, beating fluttering wings against his ribcage.

Venom doesn’t react to the reprimand, his voice a near purr. Take off your clothes.

Eddie’s mouth feels very dry. “Why?”

You know. I think it was your idea.

“Oh God,” Eddie croaks.

It was his idea. He isn’t sure Venom could have come up with the pulsing darkness coiling heavily in his belly if he wanted to. This one’s all on Eddie. He’s been thinking about it for longer than he wants to admit, maybe since that night in the forest. And he doesn’t have to admit anything because Venom already knows. Knows exactly what Eddie’s been thinking about, what Eddie wants. Guilt tugs achingly at his chest.

“I don’t want to-“ Eddie starts and falters, unsure of how to end the sentence. Take advantage of Venom? It feels too ridiculous to say out loud.

Venom doesn’t laugh.

You want it. So I want it, too.

Simple. So simple. Except nothing is simple about having sex with the alien symbiote that’s taken up residence in your body. Venom can feel everything Eddie feels. If it was pleasure he was after, he could have just waited for things to find their inevitable conclusion with Marc. Wouldn’t have sabotaged the date Eddie had earlier. No, this is different. Possessive. Venom doesn’t just want to experience Eddie’s pleasure, he wants to be the cause of it. Eddie wishes the thought wouldn’t turn him on as much as it does.

“We-“

Again he stops. Because he knows the words that will inevitably follow his weak denial.

We can do whatever we want.

His hands are shaking when he starts to unbutton his jeans, drags his hoodie and shirt over his head. The heat in here still isn’t working properly, and usually Eddie doesn’t mind, his body always running a little too hot these days. Now, the cool air feels like a caress again his damp skin, makes him flush as he kicks of his ruined briefs. The threadbare duvet is rough against his back and Eddie reminds himself for the umpteenth time to replace it, knows he’ll have forgotten about it later as he stares at the cracked ceiling, every nerve in his body singing in anticipation.

The silence is oppressive, growing heavier with each too-rapid beat of his heart, and Eddie bites his lip, doubt creeping sharply along the corners of his arousal. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Venom finally speaks again.

Not like this. You know what we want.

Eddie feels his face heat. “It’s fine like this.”

We don’t want it this way, Venom hisses and this time there’s no mistaking that he’s running out of patience.

Eddie swallows heavily, thinks he has to be flushed all over at this point as he rolls over and raises himself onto his hands and knees. After a moment of consideration, he lowers his head, buries it into the arms he folds onto the mattress. Everything happens very quickly then. There’s the familiar rush when Venom shifts beyond his skin, allows part of himself to materialize from the base of Eddie’s spine, slinking down between his cheeks to rub at the slickness of him.

You’re wet, Venom says and Eddie nearly swallows his tongue, doesn’t think he imagines the pleased reaction that rings faintly in the corner of his mind he’s come to associate with Venom.

He doesn’t get time for an answer, the tendril already pressing further, slipping easily into his stretched hole. The image of himself, facedown and ass up on his bed, getting fucked by a tentacle growing from his own skin rushes him hot and urgent, and Eddie has to squeeze the base of his dripping cock, trying desperately to stave off the orgasm that already feels inevitable. Then Venom is there, more tendrils winding around Eddie’s thighs, creeping up until they’ve enveloped his cock, growing tighter. Another sneaks in to tugs at his balls almost playfully, doing it again when Eddie can’t suppress an answering dry sob.

It takes him a moment to realize why the pressure of the tendril inside him is growing and he sucks in a noisy breath, trying to relax the muscles in his lower back, his thighs, as it expands, becoming thicker with each pulsing undulation.

“Wait-“ he hears himself say, voice reedy and wrecked.

Venom hums, the sensation rippling up his spine. You like bigger.

God. Eddie doesn’t know whether he’s capable of stringing words together anymore, body awash with the cluster of sensations, all fighting for top billing. The silky sheath his cock is encased in, pressing just a little too tight for comfort. The tendrils around his balls, tugging sharply every time his thoughts spill towards release, keeping him on edge. The thick press inside his ass, stretching him wider than he thought possible and rubbing tantalizingly against his prostate. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, and he wants, he wants, he wants.

Venom won’t let him. Taking over entirely, he strings Eddie along, caressing too-tight skin, fucking him lazily; drinking every drop of pleasure like it’s his own. He lets Eddie beg himself hoarse, and then slips into his mouth as well, growing silky and soothing against his tongue until there’s nothing to do but let him have his way and hope they won’t both get lost in this hazy circle of desire. They might last forever like this, feeding on each other’s need and getting pushed further and further, drunk with the sensation.

When his orgasm finally overtakes him, Eddie has a moment of stark fear, the intensity of it exploding along his limbic system, leaving every part of his body tingling and exhausted, darkness rushing up to meet him. It’s only when he finds himself on his stomach, arms awkwardly buried beneath his own weight that he realizes he passed out, if only for a few moments. Venom is still retreating slowly, the slick noise when the tendril finally slides free obscenely loud in the cotton-thick silence of the room.

Eddie stays exactly where he is as Venom sinks himself back into his skin. His mind is curiously blank, nothing but the ache of his balls and the tenderness of his ass registering for the moment.

No more dates.

It’s said firmly and Eddie’s mouth twitches into a smile. His voice is slurred with impending sleep as he agrees. “No more dates.”