The first time it happened, they were arguing over something stupid, bitching at each other just for the fun of it really. Late at night but too comfortable to want to bother getting up to go to bed, Eddie lying sprawled on the couch with his crumpled t-shirt exposing his belly, knees akimbo, can of beer wedged in the gap between cushions and hip. Empty takeout cartons scattered around them and Venom pooled like a sludgy throw blanket over the back of the couch, one tendril idly batting at stray strands of Eddie’s hair like the world’s gooiest cat, while the remaining tendrils hogged the remote.
Venom was dead set on watching some awful trash soap rerun too shit to be shown any earlier, where they all screamed at and attempted to kill each other or had sex (these options not being mutually exclusive or necessarily occurring in this order), and Eddie, who didn’t really mind at all and had mindlessly stared at the show in the past quite happily, nevertheless felt obliged to complain.
“Come on man, not this junk again,” he finished scratching his belly and wriggled around until he could investigate an armpit, catching himself only at the last second from spilling the beer, “Isn’t that killer whale documentary you wanted to watch supposed to be on?”
I set the laptop to record it.
Venom had gone the whole hog experimenting with the advanced technological options available to them now they had upgraded to having a TV in the apartment (read: a battered little box some neighbour had been about to throw out and willingly hawked for a few dollars plus a bit of local gossip). Eddie had likewise given in to a certain symbiote’s incessant pleas for the software required to record programs when Venom’s all-time favourite baking show had clashed with the dancing competition they both liked, after his suggestion Venom form two heads and watch one show on the TV and the other on the laptop had resulted in a headache and much confusion for them both.
Eddie had dreamed of increasingly unrealistic cake concoctions dancing giddily while decked out in gaudy outfits and spraying frosting everywhere for a week –
“Wouldn’t you rather record this show to watch later on your own and see the whales now instead?”
– Nonetheless, he somehow hadn’t anticipated being unable to watch a program of his choice on either screen. Which upon reflection, he probably should have done.
The people on the TV were trying to strangle each other now.
Julio slept with Antonio last week, when he’s meant to be getting married to Mariela in three days.
“That’s –” Eddie wanted to protest that he didn’t want to know. And didn't care. He still stopped scratching to squint at the screen. “That isn't Antonio – it's Julio and Feodosi trying to kill each other. Or hump each other.” He squinted a bit harder. Honestly it was difficult to tell.
And fuck, he knew these guys’ names. Not due to the knowledge seeping over from Venom either.
Yes, Feodosi wants to have sex with Antonio too, but he was pretending to be interested in Julio. Apparently Julio has found out. Venom was watching the violence-slash-grinding with interest, probably wondering if one would consume the other’s head. Which might happen, granted, just in a different sense.
While Dominika has a crush on Mariela, Venom added when a tall woman just as scantily clad as the two men burst into the kitchen they were wrestling in and started wailing.
“’Has a crush’ – think you mean she wants to jump Mariela’s bones, buddy,” Eddie snorted at Venom’s phrasing, “Hang on, isn’t Dominika the one who was going on last week about wanting to join a convent?” And then – damn it – he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be invested in this.
Venom was already answering, before Eddie could renew his protests, Yes, because as I understand it there are many enthusiastic lesbians in nunneries.
“What – Have you been looking up porn on the internet again? My search history is already filled with so much crap because of you,” Nuns, Jesus. Moaning in despair, Eddie ran his hand over his face before remembering he’d been using it to scratch his balls earlier. Oops. “Dude.”
On screen, Dominika’s wailing changed noticeably in pitch as the two men broke off their tussling-cum-fucking in order to take turns sticking their tongues down her throat. She responded eagerly.
The sapient space goo stiffened on the back of the couch, either in indignation or curiosity, But she has professed many times in the past to have absolutely no interest in men!
“Guess she changed her mind, buddy,” Recalling some of Dominika’s sermons on the subject, typically before, during or after seducing her girlfriend of the week, Eddie felt similarly unconvinced. Still: “Different writer this episode, probably.”
They both watched in silence for a moment as Julio ran his tongue down the back of Feodosi’s neck while Dominika grabbed Feodosi’s hands, pulling them up over his head. Sandwiched between them, he submitted beautifully.
An unexpected little frisson of arousal shooting through him, Eddie blinked.
They’re like you, Eddie, Venom mentally sat up (while physically, they remained sludge). Definitely curious now.
“What? Who do you mean no fuck, don’t answer that,” Eddie did not need to know, “Okay, kids TV has officially finished, adults only now, that’s enough.” He flailed a hand up towards Venom – and thus the remote, “Turn it off or change the channel.”
Prude, was Venom’s answer, given Anne had some time ago banned a certain other ‘p’ word. They slopped themselves like an unusually viscous oil slick over said remote.
Eddie shot upright in outrage, “Not a prude!”
The effect was spoiled somewhat by just how much his stomach muscles protested the move. The beer can tipped over to a perilous angle, this time unnoticed.
Clothes were being shed on the TV as someone pressed someone else up against the fridge, while another person made their way lower down, descending only just out of sight of the camera. There were lots of wandering hands and gratuitous moaning. A shot of Josephine, the soap’s local oddball character generally used as cheap comic relief or in quickly resolved plot devices (who Eddie strongly felt was unfairly misrepresented and had Views about) peering in through the kitchen window from outside, her mouth agape.
“Am not,” Eddie felt compelled to protest. Because he wasn’t a prude. In his time he’d watched plenty of terrible (actual) porn produced on a miniscule budget and with an even worse script than this garbage! He’d had sex plenty of times! With a variety of people in all sorts of inventive ways! Unlike someone he could name.
Cheap shot. Venom increased the tendril that had been batting Eddie’s hair to larger, harder proportions and used it to smack the back of Eddie’s head.
“Oh, cheap shot, buddy,” Simultaneously growling and laughing, Eddie flailed both hands this time, seeking to smack Venom in return, and then there was much tussling and the beer getting knocked over and Eddie not realising until he felt a certain suspicious sticky wetness covering his crotch.
He squawked. Very loudly.
Mariela, on the TV, was next to burst into the room, catching the threesome and squealing at the exact same pitch Eddie reached. There was much cursing and crying until she began to spontaneously fling off her clothes.
“Oh my fucking god, turn it off!” Eddie, at this point, was jiggling and squirming and very much wanting a shower. And to mop the couch, although really one more stain probably wouldn’t be noticeable amongst all the others. But more importantly, he had a point to make. Possibly. He thought.
A battle to win anyway, which was what mattered.
“Give me the remote!”
“Fine!” Eddie shoved one hundred percent ineffectually at his disobedient space slime, “If you won’t hand it over, then just – get back inside me” and he thought this fiercely at Venom – get in me right now this instant – and Venom didn’t even have the chance to shoot back a predictably inappropriate
Because instead they were completely unintentionally zipped back inside him with a disturbingly slurping sound as they regurgitated the remote, letting out an equally unintentional squeak of utter surprise (shock) as they went –
And then Eddie was left there sitting alone on the soggy couch with an unpleasantly wet and increasingly cold crotch, oblivious to the TV, wondering –
“What the fuck?”
– just happened.