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Routine Cum Therapy

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It’s weird, going back to something like a normal routine after all of that. Some of it is good, a lot of it is boring.

Meeting Anne for lunch every other week is always a highlight, though. They’re still figuring each other out, feeling out what their deal is going to be from here. Some days, it’s fine; other days, it’s painful. Sometimes she’ll lean her cheek on the heel of her palm, and Eddie will have to remind himself that he can’t just reach over and play with the hair draping over her shoulder anymore.

But it’s nice, learning her as a friend. They’d dated after meeting for the first time, and they hadn’t ever known each other without that layer of romance.

Venom even behaves during the lunches, thank God. As much as he can, anyway.

Order the steak.

Anne laughs at a joke from the server. Eddie takes the moment to pretend to sneeze into his shirt collar and whispers, “I’m not ordering a steak for lunch .”

Why not?

“Ooh, BLT and soup of the day - sounds good,” says Anne, and the waiter jots it down helpfully. She lists off her preferred sides while Eddie mutters that a heavy chunk of meat at noon is going to sit terribly in his stomach for the rest of the day.

Venom rumbles in discontent. Fine.

“And for you, sir?”

“Uh, yeah,” he fumbles with the menu and gives it a quick scan, settling on, “...potato rolls.”

Bread. Really.

Anne raises a brow.


The server takes their menus and leaves their table.

“So,” Anne raps her nails against the side of her water glass and waggles her brows. “How’s things?”

They both chuckle. It’s good that Anne feels it too, the strangeness of going from people who went home together to people who met for lunch.

“Ah, you know,” he waves, grinning. “Work. Sleep. San Francisco rent.”

“You never did tell me how you managed to afford that place without a job for six months.”

“Lotta unsavoury things...” Eddie makes a mock serious expression, squinting and drawing his lips into a hard line; Anne rolls her eyes. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to get a hitman.”

She rips a corner off her napkin at tosses it at him. “Fine, don’t tell me. Guess you can have your secrets now, huh?”

Today must be one of the good days, because they can joke about it and Eddie’s chest won’t tighten and his smile won’t congeal on his face. And she’s right, anyway - the biggest secret either of them could possibly have is curling around in his muscles right now, rumbling into Eddie’s ear about getting a milkshake. This place doesn’t even have milkshakes.

Milkshake after.

“What’s Dan up to today?” he asks.

“Swamped,” she says. “He said it’s going to be a late night for him. Doctors, you know? I don’t know how they do it.”

He likes Dan; Eddie has never had to fight anyone for anyone else’s honour before - rarely could he even muster up the effort when it came to his own - and he’s kind of glad he’s never going to have to do that for Anne. Not that she couldn’t handle herself, anyway. She’d probably get mad if she knew what he was thinking.

Good girl.

Don’t think about her like that , he wants to say - but Venom can’t read his thoughts. Besides, it’s not as though he doesn’t still catch himself thinking that stuff anyway.

He really does like Dan - even if he sometimes he still imagines living at Anne’s again, bearing Mr. Belvedere’s stink eye and waking up with her tie still looped around his neck.

Their food comes - Eddie adds in a request for a glass of coke, in lieu of a milkshake. Venom grumbles that Anne’s BLT looks way better than his potato rolls; Eddie kind of agrees, but he’s made his choice. And he’s always thought it seemed shitty to send something back to the kitchen.

There’s a few quiet, comfortable moments where they eat and don’t say much. It’s almost like it was before, where they could be silent together. Being friends is different, it feels more urgent - like he has to keep talking to make the most of it, to soak up whatever little of her time he gets to have now. Hopefully, one day, they can find a nice middle ground.

“Mm,” she sighs around her bite. “God, I love this place.”


Ask for her bacon.

“Aw, I can’t do that,” Eddie murmurs back. Anne squints at him, and he waves. “Uh - I mean I can’t wait to come back.”

She grins. “Potato rolls that good, huh?”

“Oh, You bet.”


In lieu of being able to do much else, Eddie reaches down and pats his own thigh; he thinks he might hear a quiet, grudging “hmph” somewhere in the back of his head, but who knows. He’ll make it up to the big guy later.




Eddie hasn’t thought about his dick in weeks.

In all the excitement of getting extremely fired, and then bodily-possessed by an alien, and then everything that happened with Drake and the car chases and rocket launch right after - Eddie hadn’t had a moment to breathe without it clogging his schedule. There just hadn’t been any real time to think about his dick barring when he needed to take a piss with it.

Even a month after, it feels like his body is still riding out the stress - tense, waiting for the next thing to hit. Going out into the streets and biting the heads off ne’er-do-wells usually ends with Eddie passing out on his couch, stomach weirdly - very fucking weirdly - full and skin buzzing from a satisfaction that’s sort of his own, but mostly Venom’s.

Getting back into a Drake-free routine these days mostly revolves around patching things up with Anne, making friends with Dan, sorting out the kinks in his new job, and learning how to manage his new roommate. The thought of sex is mostly just a vague possibility in the midst of all that.

So the morning Eddie wakes up with his first hard-on in his post-Venom life, he finds himself at a bit of a loss.

He stares, blurry-eyed, at the tent. “Uh…”

You should fix that.

He’s still too sleepy to really jump, but his hips do twitch in surprise. He wonders if it’s possible for Venom to turn down the volume in his head or something. It’s like there’s a subwoofer in there; “ Use your inside voice, ” he wants to say, just to be funny.   

Reaching up, he rubs at his eyes. Yawns into his palms. Wrinkles his nose at his morning breath and rubs at the crusty patch of drool at the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

Dropping his hands onto his belly over his ratty sleep shirt, he drums his fingers on his sternum and looks at his erection in careful, suspicious consideration.

It is still there.

“Yeah...that’s usually how it works,” Eddie murmurs.


Of course this was going to be a thing he would’ve had to deal with sooner or later. He just kind of figured it’d be later , in that vague way that meant he hadn’t actually considered it at all.

Venom has seen him do all sorts of stuff by now - eat, shower, piss, shit. Had all sorts of rumbling quips for all of them. Eddie figures this shouldn’t be any different, not to an alien parasite, but everything in his brain wants to balk at the thought of taking care of this kind of thing with Venom just...there. Watching . Possibly commentating, maybe judging his performance.

Other people don’t have these kinds of problems , he thinks, in one absurd moment of clarity.

“It’s just…” he shifts, tugging the blanket over his dick. “Jerking off isn’t supposed to be a spectator sport, y’know?”

Not a spectator. We are one .

“Sure…” he’s waking up now. Hard not to, with that voice booming in his head. “Look man, you know we don’t have to do...everything...together right? Could you just...look away?”

Look away?

“Yeah, I mean -” he gestures, vaguely, with his hands. “Y’know, pretend like you’re not there for a little bit.”

What for.


He figures the morning wood should be flagging by now, shamed by awkwardness. But no, it’s still there - rowdy and disobedient, just like the alien body-hopper sharing his meat suit.

Touch it.

“Not gonna do that,” Eddie snipes, suddenly resolute. It’s probably from the part of him that doesn’t like being told what to do, the part of him that knew his job was on the line but chose to grill Drake during that disastrous interview in the first place. “Nope.”

Touch it!

“It’s quiet time now baby, shh.”

He gets up and stumbles to the bathroom, aiming to brush his teeth, wash his face, and absolutely nothing else.

Venom scoffs in his head.


“Says you.”




Should have touched it.

“Why’re you so obsessed, man?”

Your memories.

“What about them?”

They have good feelings. And embarrassing ones.


“What, you want to see me get embarrassed?” he scoffs, and more people give him funny looks as he passes. Luckily, Eddie’s about as thick-skinned as one can get about public humiliation at this point; he hasn’t asked, but he is fairly sure he’s banned from that restaurant with the lobsters.

It is amusing.

“Glad someone thinks so,” Eddie mutters. “But it’s not gonna happen.”

Venom growls, though it’s more disappointed than angry.

“Don’t sulk,” he spies an interesting opportunity. “Here, I’ll make it up to you.”

The shop is one of those overpriced, fancy candy stores. One of those ones styled to look vintage, and were patronized by adults more than actual kids. Normally he doesn’t go into places like this but Venom being pouty actually kind of sucked most of the time; it made his stomach roil, and spawned a strangely similar guilty sort of feeling that he used to get when Anne got upset, and if he thought too hard about that he might really go crazy.   

The pretty girl behind the register glances up from her phone to wave and greet him, and he smiles back. He makes a beeline for the front desk and points at the row of pre-wrapped cotton candy behind her: “One of those, please,” he says, and plucks a couple of ridiculously expensive chocolate bars from one of the gondolas for good measure.

Venom purrs.

You are very good to us.

When the girl’s back is turned, Eddie mutters: “Don’t say I never did anything for you, buddy.”




There are a few more inconvenient hard-ons over the next couple of weeks; Eddie ignores every one of them.

Venom badgers him each time, egging him on with increasing agitation. Placating him with candy and his favourite foods and extended prowls for bad guys in damp alleyways usually did the trick to shut him up, but Eddie knows he can’t keep this up forever.

It’s completely irrational to expect to never jack off again, to never have sex again - but for all the weirdness of his life in the last few months, getting off while his alien roommate watches just feels too much like too far .

So, no. He’s not going to do it.

Do it.





It is back, Eddie.

“Hey, that’s too bad - too bad I’m going back to sleep .”





“...For fuck’s sake.”


Never .”




Touch -





“Eddie...are you okay?”

Anne’s concerned face is such a beautiful thing. He used to like it a lot when she fussed over him, cooed at him when he got sick or had a bad day. Her voice would get all soft and her eyes would shine; it would always be real nice, having that kind of attention.

Now though, he’s kind of wishing she would back off and mind her own damn business.

“Yeah,” he says, close-but-not-quite-snapping over his lunch steak. “Why do you ask?”

“You look terrible.”

“Yeah well you look great .”



You fucked up.

Shut up .”



He can’t really explain over their nice, quaint lunch that, “sorry Anne, I actually fucking lied about the whole Venom thing, and now I’ve got a self-imposed moratorium on jacking off until further notice because he’s weirdly into watching it happen and I’m not sure I’m there yet with him, you feel me?”

What he does say is: “Sorry, I slept really badly last night. Like total shit.”

“Ah,” she says, though he knows her well enough to know that she doesn’t quite buy it.

Smart girl. Smarter than you.

Eddie is half tempted to just toss the steak and order a salad, out of spite.




You are getting cranky.

“How do you figure, huh?”

Because we are one.

“Yeah, and y’know - I’m feeling a bit of buyer’s remorse these days.”

Do not take it out on me.

“...Sorry, man.”




He does throw in the towel, eventually.

It happens when he’s watching - though not really watching - TV. Mostly, it’s just on so he can have something to stare at until he feels tired enough to go to sleep. There’s some nostalgic film marathon on, or something - it doesn’t really matter because they’re running From Dusk till Dawn and before he knows it, Salma Hayek is gyrating in a red cloth bikini with a snake around her shoulders and Eddie is pitching an urgent tent.

Venom, suspiciously enough, says nothing at first. In hindsight, maybe the symbiote just sensed that Eddie was finally going to be a big quitter about it even before Eddie himself did.

He taps his fingers on his thighs, looking at the bump in his jeans and considers the low, tired ache in his belly. He really can’t do this forever, and it’s looking less and less worth it as time goes on.

Eddie sighs and pops the button on his fly.

Took you long enough.

“Just - shh,” Eddie says, peeling his jeans and underwear down to his knees. Looking at his cock, ruddy and fat against the crease of his thigh, he nearly apologizes to it.

There’s a sharp sting of anticipation prickling at his fingertips and Eddie is not entirely sure it’s all his. He can feel how focused Venom is, eager like he’s been for nothing else - not even snatching up criminals into his great, terrifying jaw. It’s a little thrilling, feeling it so close to his own emotions, or maybe he’s just so pent up now that his senses are totally out the window.

Eddie wraps his hand around himself, and his stomach jumps at the touch; he sighs, pleased and relieved .

That is good.

Eddie falls back against the couch and touches himself with long, indulgent strokes. There’s no more dancing on the TV, not that he’s even looking there anymore; he’s watching his own hand, the precum beading on the tip of his cock, and berating himself for putting this off.

We like this.

“Yeah...yeah we do…”

Maybe it doesn’t have to be as weird as he was making it out to be in his head. Maybe he had been overthinking everything to a pointless extreme -

Venom’s head materializes at Eddie’s hip, big white eyes honed on his fist, and sharp, nasty teeth only inches from his knuckles.     

“What -” he jumps, hand flying away.

No stopping now.

Without thinking, Eddie flicks his finger at Venom’s little blob of a head - though it passes right through, like touching water, the symbiote hisses at him anyway and snaps his jaw.

That was rude.

“What are you doing!”

Getting a better look.

Eddie runs a jittery hand through his hair. “You don’t need a better look.”

Venom was never going to make things too easy for him, ever. Sometimes he forgot that this was a creature who barely understood the concept of boundaries.

Do not be that way. Continue.

Eddie groans, rubbing a hand down his face. “Just...don’t do anything, okay? Stay there, and...don’t move. Just let me have this one.”


The interruption made him flag a little, but once he gets back to work it doesn’t take much to catch up. Eddie focuses on enjoying it, taking his time rather than rushing, because he can feel the buildup of stress in his muscles and how little action his body has gotten in months. He’d been too broken up over Anne to mess around with anyone since the split, and as he bucks into his own fist he finds himself thinking it might be time to consider going back on the market.

Or maybe not, Eddie thinks. Venom’s still watching, tongue flicking out like a snake and wisping over his own teeth. He can feel the symbiote’s satisfaction, layered faintly under his own. There’s growling in his head - not words, just gravelly, beasty sounds that should really scare him but somehow makes him even harder instead.

Don’t think about it , he tells himself, reaching up under his sweatshirt with his free hand and brushing at his nipples. Wow, don’t ever think about that, holy shit.

For all that he’s trying to take his time with it, his body has other ideas. He gets close, and shuts his eyes to keep out the image of Venom’s white, alien stare. All those teeth. That tongue.

The growling gets louder, like it senses where his thoughts are going, and Eddie comes with a ragged gasp.

Venom, all of him, including the bits of him still hidden in Eddie’s bones, feels it too - coming makes the symbiote shudder and curl, and Eddie gasps again, throat tight. His sticky hands clutch at his thighs as he rides out whatever sympathy orgasm Venom is having, bearing the loud, roaring yell that rings inside his skull.

After a tight, breathless moment Eddie collapses - both of them do - back against the couch, head lolling to the side like there’s no more meat in his neck. Dazed, chest heaving, he wipes his hands on his jeans.

Venom’s little head is resting on his bare thigh, eyes like slits - maybe they’re closed, he can’t really tell - and the pink tip of his tongue is peeking through the seam of his mouth.

Slowly, Eddie reaches out and pokes him. “Hey, you still with me?”

... That ...was orgasm?

Eddie nods, weirdly giddy. Maybe verging on hysterical. He grins and strokes along the space between Venom’s eyes: “Congrats.”   

We must do that again. Immediately.

Eddie laughs, a disbelieving wheeze that makes his belly shake. Venom is propping himself up from his thigh, eyes big and alert again, looking at Eddie’s spent cock like round 2 is just around the corner.

Well? Make it happen, Eddie.

“No can do, man,” Eddie says, sitting straight. “I’m tired. And I gotta go to bed now and try not to have a big freak out over this in an hour, you know.”

Venom grudgingly withdraws back into his body.

Hmph. In the morning, then.

Gingerly, Eddie stands, popping his back. “No promises.”

Chapter Text

Eddie doesn’t jerk off the next morning. It’s mostly because the sleep is so good he goes on past his alarm and has to haul ass by the time he wakes up, but also because he’s not quite ready to get back into it with Venom watching again so soon. Maybe later, after he’s had some time digest memory of it: Venom right there, feeling what Eddie was feeling, feeding it back into Eddie in some kind of fucked up body-sharing feedback loop.

Just thinking about it is likely to make his eyes cross. How does a guy deal with that? The answer is - he doesn’t.  

Again, after your work.

“Jeez,” Eddie slots the key into the ignition of his bike, shaking his head. “Ever heard of pacing yourself?”

Pace faster.

He snorts.

“When it happens, then it happens,” he says, securing his helmet and taking off. “Gotta let nature take control once in a while, y’know?”

Nature can be manipulated.

“Don’t be manipulating my nature, Venom,” Eddie murmurs. Luckily, he can talk as much and as loudly as he pleases on his bike. “Be a good guy. Be a friend.”

We are not friends, we are one.

“Come on...” Eddie chides. “We can’t be one and be friends?”

Venom grumbles in his head. Not real words, just contemplative emotions given noise. It’s nice when the symbiote gets thrown for a loop, on the rare occasions it happens; he’s always so sure of everything, and Eddie likes getting to be the one in the know for once.

It’s a while before Venom speaks again, at least a few city blocks.

I would like to be friends.

There’s warmth pooling in his chest, a bundle of strangely happy emotions. Most of it is Venom’s but Eddie knows some are his, too.

“Hey, that’s the spirit,” says Eddie, shoulder checking before changing lanes.

I would also like you to touch yourself again.

Eddie sighs. “And there goes the mood.”




Work is wild ride these days. Eddie spends most of his time weeding out all the crap that’s been flooding in his inbox after the Kasady piece went live. There’s some sensitive follow up stuff that he knows he’s supposed to be keeping an eye on, but Eddie’s always been a bit weak at the administrative stuff. The legalese. The PR. His eyes are swimming most of the time, and he’s chewed down at least four pens in the last month while hunched over his desktop at the office.  

Shunting yet another important e-mail into his “Deal With Later” folder, Eddie scratches at his neck and says, “Say, Venom…”

You are bored.


What do you want me to do about it?

“Talk to me,” he murmurs. His side of the office is empty tonight and the building is near silent but for the faint sound of cars outside. He could use the distraction, and sometimes - sometimes - the way Venom’s voice rumbles in his head can feel kind of nice. Not that he would ever admit it.

You usually complain when I talk.

“I’m trying new things.”

Such as last night.

“That wasn’t new. That was pretty old hat, man.”

Then will you?


Try new things.

“You mean - with you?”

With us.

“...I don’t know,” he really doesn't. He’s not sure he’s capable of that kind of foresight, right now, with all these messages blurring together before his eyes. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, ‘kay?”

Venom hums.

“Talk to me,” Eddie says again, chucking another worthless email into the trash.

What about?

“I don’t know...what’s home like?”

Home is you.

The mouse freezes, cursor hovering over another email - some indie news outlet wanting a piece of the Kasady thunder, or something. Light-headed, Eddie feels his lips part, saying, “...What was the...old home like?”

It was dark.

Eddie gives him a moment, and when Venom continues he could swear the symbiote’s voice is a little bit wistful.

A big planet, full of sound. Many of us, but most did not like me. Then it broke. We sailed on a rock through stars, and all the noise was gone. Too quiet. Lonely. Then there was a rocket, and

He can tell it’s difficult, not fully-formed, whatever it is that Venom is trying to translate through to English. He can feel how much is being lost, even if he doesn’t know exactly what those things are. There’s a vast distance, a pitch black space, between what he’s saying and what he can’t bring over into human words. It feels like it’s sitting somewhere in Eddie’s chest, a malignant, painful mass.   

Eddie shifts in his chair, the squeak of the cushion loud in the quiet of the office. It’s getting dark outside. He asks, “And now?”

Venom’s sound of consideration is warm, content.

Not as dark. Not as quiet.

“...Not as lonely?”

No. Not lonely.

Eddie goes back to work, after that, and doesn’t bother his roommate for the rest of the night.




Getting over his complexes on that first night makes it easier to get back into the swing of taking care of his sexual needs. Venom being there, watching and talking, stops being strange all together after a couple more times. He still doesn’t think too closely about it, doesn’t sit down and try some self-reflection like he probably should. He just lets it be, and hopes it doesn’t get too complicated.

Then of course, things get complicated. And escalate - as they always do, where Eddie is concerned.

Want to do it, this time.

Eddie’s hand stops on his cock.

“What did you just -”

Venom is already creeping out of him before Eddie even starts to speak, inky black springing through his skin like blood through gauze, streaking down like his dick is a finish line. At the first touch, Eddie’s body locks together in shock.

The inhumanness of it strikes him hard, the more he looks at it. Venom is a splash of squirming black around his cock, not at all like a human hand - not five-fingered and fleshy, with bones and blood. It wriggles and seizes around him in a sticky, freaky mess and Eddie can’t comprehend it.

“Oh fuck, oh shit ,” he’s sputtering, eyes glued to it. His fingertips are tingling and his lips feel rubbery on his own face but he’s sure he’s never been this turned on in his life.

Eddie tries to reach down, to do what he’s not sure - help out, maybe? - but Venom snatches his wrists and jerks them back, stringing him to the headboard, stronger than any cuffs on Earth, most likely.

My turn now.

“That’s my dick, you know…!”

Mine too. Ours.

He did make a promise, didn’t he? Still, it all becomes so much weirder when his dick is involved. He never figured his dick would be involved.

Black ropes circle around his ankles and yank his legs apart, far enough that his heels nearly dangle off the edges of the bed. Venom rumbles in his head, and the back of Eddie’s neck starts to sweat.

A long tongue slides out from under his t-shirt and creeps back to drag across his nape; slowly, as though the symbiote is savouring it.  

Whatever remaining shred of normalcy left in him spurs him to say:

“God, please don’t make this weird.”

It’s what he says, but his brain starting a drumline to the mantra of God, please make it weirder .

Venom laughs - a ragged chuckle that makes Eddie’s nipples tighten just hearing it, feeling it.

Not weird. Better .

“Okay...all right,” Eddie mumbles, voice high as he tugs his legs and makes no gains. His heart is thundering and the blood rush to his head sounds like the crashing of a dam. He’s hard enough to break diamonds. “Better. Sure, let’s go with that…”

So maybe he’s always had a bit of thing for manhandling. And maybe this whole thing is getting away from him faster than he can possibly keep up with. There is no keeping up with an alien symbiote - and as with all the times before, he’s finding that the best course of action is to give himself over completely and just let Venom handle it.

Venom reaches down, right under his balls, a strange pressure firm against his taint. Eddie shivers.  

Good spot.

Eddie nods, gulps. “Real good spot...”

Maybe it comes out a little needier than he could be proud of, but there can’t possibly be much of his dignity left, at this point. Not after everything they’ve been through together.   

There’s a faint brush at the sole of his foot, and he jerks. “Whoa no! Not sexy!”

He’s horrifically ticklish; Anne used like to exploiting it sometimes, when she got bored.

Hm. That feels bad. But good?

“Yeah it tickles , so don’t do that. Not unless you want this stop getting hot and more sad when I start screaming, big guy.”

Screaming is good.

“Not that kind.”

Hm. Fine.

Venom goes back to feeling up Eddie’s balls and swirling around his cock. The texture of Venom’s physical form is unlike anything else - sticky, without residue; wet, without dampness. Solid, but malleable when he wants it. Venom’s temperature is Eddie’s temperature, and Eddie thinks that just under his fingertips he can feel the sensation of touching his own cock, somehow.

He bucks, and groans. A thought slithers its way from his head to his mouth before he can stop it: “Let me see you.”

There’s no rolling that one back - Eddie’s the one that made it weird, despite his own protests.

Venom materializes only his head; not his full size, but bigger than before. The shape of his jagged grin is familiar now, even comforting. Even hot . Eddie looks into the white of his eyes, and pants.

He’s always been a bit of a romantic; he just can’t help it. He asks, “Can you kiss me?” and hopes to God that those teeth don’t end up fucking him up.


“Y-yeah…” Eddie shudders, rocking into that inky black clutch on his cock. “Fuck, come on man…”


Venom opens his fearsome jaw, and his incredible tongue slides towards Eddie’s face. That works, too.

He sucks loudly on Venom’s tongue, feels the tapered point of it wrap around his own. It’s so big and coarse, rough enough to leave behind a sensation like a light razor burn, but he can’t get enough of it. Eddie thinks that he kind of wants to choke on it.

The whole deal is slobbery and messy and he’s pretty sure he could pop just from this alone.

You like my tongue.

Amusement doesn’t make Venom’s voice rumble any less, but it makes warm tingles bloom at the back of his skull.  

His mouth is too stuffed to say what he wants - which would be something along the lines of a “ Hell yeah, buddy ”, or something - so Eddie just moans and tries his best to nod his head. He can feel Venom’s laugh, vibrating all over him; there’s a shared sensation of satisfaction, and it makes Eddie’s toes curl.

The tongue pulls away and Eddie’s head falls back into the pillow as he gulps for air, chest heaving. He watches, somehow both dazed and alert, as that creepy, million-fanged smile grows on Venom’s face.

You will like this, too.

Venom’s head drops down toward his crotch, and Eddie has a hysterical moment where all he can think of are those dangerous teeth too close to his dick. Before he can yell at him to be careful, Venom whips his tongue out and wraps the whole thing around his cock. Twice over.

O...oh shit …!”

Eddie drops back and gapes at the ceiling.

There’s that dark, rolling laughter again, beginning at the base of his skull and tingling down all the way to his toes. His legs are going haywire, jerking against the symbiote’s hold and not getting an inch . He’s going to be sore tomorrow, as though he’s tried to run a marathon.

There’s a flick of tongue at the head of his cock, swiping up the telltale leak.


That’s new - that’s a new tone to the creature’s voice that Eddie hasn’t heard yet. Maybe he would be distracted by that if he wasn’t busy bucking fruitlessly into the tangle of tongue knotted around his cock. All that saliva mutes the roughness of its texture, but still it's harsh enough just to skirt the edge of uncomfortable. And yet Eddie can't get enough.

More...of this.

Venom’s tongue tightens, writhes around him, squeezing.

Eddie knows he’s babbling, now. There aren’t words anymore, no words possible for what’s happening and how much he likes it. There’s an alien tongue with a drooling stranglehold on his cock and he’s going to come harder than he ever has in his goddamn life. He wants to apologize, somehow, to all of his old girlfriends and that one guy he messed around with in college for somehow failing to measure up even though it’s not even a competition.

Oh God, oh fuck, oh Jesus .”

When Eddie comes it feels like it’s punched out of him; his eyes slam shut and he groans, open mouthed and shaking. Venom’s tongue is at the ready, lapping it all up with an eagerness that nearly outstrips the one he gets when he’s about to eat a screaming bad guy.

The symbiote’s satisfaction at the taste is beyond words, too. It zips through him and feels electric , makes Eddie’s hairs stand on end. It, strangely, makes his stomach growl.

We like this.

Oh yeah, we do , Eddie thinks because he can’t say it, far too out of breath to do much other than try not to suffocate. But Venom must feel it in the way Eddie’s body shakes.

That tongue is still squeezing like its milking him, and soon enough it gets to be too much; Eddie squirms, grimacing.

“Fuck, stop,” he wheezes. “Pull off - pull off!”

Not enough.


He licks at the head again, then goes for his balls and Eddie bucks - away .

“Venom, I can’t , man.”

More of that.

“I don’t have more,” Eddie gasps.

Make more.

“That’s not how it works!”

Hmph! Stupid!

“Yeah,” Eddie falls back, panting weakly, as the tongue grudgingly pulls off. Finally, a moment to breathe. “Pretty stupid…”

He’s pretty sure he’s boneless, properly fucked out in a way he’s never been fucked out before. The hold on his ankles and wrists dissipates, drawing back into his flesh; Eddie stretches, a full-body pull that pops his bones.

He groans. “Holy shit…”


“Real good.”

You are welcome.

He rubs at his face to hide his smile, though the big guy probably feels it anyway.




The sleep that night is fantastic .

Eddie wakes up like he’s never even known the word ‘stress’, like the whole concept is completely foreign and inconceivable. When he opens his eyes, he’s pretty sure the only thing missing is birds and music like something out of an old cartoon.

Before he can even properly purr in satisfaction, Venom’s voice thunders in his head:


Black tendrils are already starting to coalesce around his thighs, over the tops of his forearms; Eddie watches them, slow on the uptake. He manages to snap himself out of it before Venom can pin him again.



Eddie sweeps his hands through the inky mess pooling on his thighs. If Venom were to honestly insist on it, Eddie couldn’t do much to move him - but they’ve been trying this new thing now where the symbiote actually gives him some say in what goes on with his body. Go figure.

It sloughs off like putty, disappearing at his touch; he feels Venom grumbling in his head in impatience.

“I’m not in the mood, you know,” Eddie says. This really should be simple, but Venom has a tendency to make simple things complicated and complicated things simple.

Get in the mood.

“It’s not an on and off switch. I can’t just do that.”

Why not.

He groans. If there had been birds and music they’d surely be gone now. So much for his stellar mood.

Is he going to have to sit here and lecture his alien roommate on human sexuality? Maybe. But he’s not going to do that. Not right this morning, when he’s feeling good and there’s a place a few blocks away that makes killer breakfast sandwiches for cheap.

“How about some food,” he mutters, sweeping the blanket aside and standing.

More dead things.

Tasty dead things.”

Says you.

They’ll talk about, and probably soon, but for now - breakfast is calling.

Chapter Text

“Shit...that’s too tight…!”

More , Eddie.

“Yeah, yeah you’ll get more just...ease up, okay?”





“Don’t you ever get sick of it?”

I like your taste.

“What, not ‘ours’?” entirely you.

“Getting kinda romantic, y’know.”




“S-sure you’re not just enjoying getting your rocks off?”

Your pleasure is my pleasure. Our pleasure.

“Well, I’m not gonna fight that...hey - slow it down…”




The talk happens over a week later, because Venom has poor impulse control. Eddie can’t blame the guy for being what he is, for approaching the world in the only way he knows how, but it’s wreaking havoc on Eddie’s schedule. And body.

“Man, I can’t spend all day jerking off,” he whines, swatting away black tendrils trying to creep into his underwear. “I have to work , I have to see Anne and eat and live my life .”

Is this not living?

“Don’t get philosophical.”

Feels good.

“Yeah, so does having money. You want to keep having those tater tots?”

This is much better than tater tots. Tastes better.

Eddie wrinkles his nose. They’re going to have to agree to disagree on that. But he has to get going, because Anne’s expecting him at a new sushi place she’s been excited about for months, and there are more important things to drill into Venom’s head.

“Okay so,” he shoves his arms into his jacket and checks his pockets for his keys. “I think it’s time I lay down a few ground rules with you, buddy.”

Too many rules.

Eddie snorts, scanning his apartment for his wallet.

Do not eat him. Eat him, but not now. Tonight we can eat, tomorrow we can not.

He really needs one of those fancy dishes people keep by their doors to dump their important junk. Anne used to have one, it made things so much easier.

Do not touch you. Touch you. Stop touching you. Do not stop touching you.

Eddie sighs. He tries to quell the excitement that starts to bubble up when hearing Venom talk about touching him. Now is really not the time.

Rules, rules, rules.

Eddie finds the wallet on the ground by his couch as Venom bitches, and shoves it into the back pocket of his jeans. “Yeah well,” he says, and shrugs. “We need rules.”

We do not.

“No, I mean,” he waves. “Like the ‘general’ we, not we we. Everyone.”

You are beyond everyone else, now.

“Sure, sure,” there’s a big, highly existential conversation to be had there, maybe; a little too big for a pre-lunch sex lecture. A little too big for ever , probably. “But we’re not talking about that. We’re talking about you, me, and my dick.”


Eddie rolls his eyes, clicking his door shut. “You’re a pain in the ass to talk to, you know that?”

You too.

Anyway ,” he tries to keep his voice down in the hallway. Most of his neighbors already think he’s the the building weirdo; he doesn’t want to add more fuel to the fire. “I know that you know about how bodies work, man. You know I can’t just get it up whenever I want. Or when you want.”

You don’t try.

“This isn’t one of those ‘when there’s a will, there’s a way’ kind of deals,” says Eddie, shuffling down the stairs. It’s a pain to take them, but he was in the elevator once and the thing got shaky in a way that made him nervous, so he hasn’t used it since. “This is already... so much , Venom. My dick’s gonna fall off at this pace. Take it easy on me, you know?”

The symbiote grumbles. Eddie pushes open the front door of the building and finds it raining. “Ah, shit.”

He really ought to buy an umbrella. Anne was always the one who worried about that kind of stuff.

“So?” he walks at a brisk pace, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “How about it, big guy? Slow it down - all right?”

Fine. For you.

“You’re the best.”





It’s Venom’s first time tasting sushi; Eddie kind of glad he’s into it, even if he’s grumbling about the tiny portions and all the rice. Though the symbiote does seem to enjoy the soy sauce.

“So,” Anne sets down her chopsticks, finishes chewing.

He knows that tone.

“It’s been...a while,” she gives him a contemplative look. “Getting up to a year. Have you considered getting back into dating, yet?”


Eddie takes a long drink of his tea, to give himself the time to think. He really hasn’t, in truth. Most of his brain power goes toward thinking about work or Venom, these days.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “Hey, should you even be asking about that?”

“Please,” she rolls her eyes, but she smiles. “I want us to be the good kind of exes. I want you to be able to talk to me.”

“Yeah, okay,” he grins. “Then I get to ask you all sorts of slightly-maybe-too-personal questions, too huh?”

Anne takes a delicate sip of her tea. “I reserve the right to segue.”

“Oh yeah, for sure.”

“Okay - shoot.”

“You and Dan?”

It’s become easier than it’s ever been, now - the “and Dan” part of Anne these days. Anne and Dan. The unit they make.  

“You mean…?”

Eddie shrugs, doesn’t look at her. “Wedding bells, yet?”

Dan’s already living with her. And they’re all at that age now: he knows all of Anne’s friends are married - and she had been on her way to being one of them, before it all fell apart. He wonders how she feels about that, what she thinks about it all, but he can’t ask her that now. Maybe he will never be able to, not when they’re just friends. It’s tough to know that they were planning to grow old together, and now some parts of her are going to be locked away from him forever.

Anne looks into her cup. Her palm is pressed flat against its side; she’d told him once that it eased her sore wrists from typing up documents all day. Mugs used to litter their house together, all of them hers. He wonders if Dan picks them up for her, clicking his tongue.

“We’ve been talking about it,” she says, casual. The real kind, not the kind people put on when they’re running away from something. “I think he’s a little intimidated know,” she shrugs. “I was just engaged, and we haven’t been together long. No one wants to look like a rusher.”

He nods.

Anne sweeps her hair back over her shoulder. It’s becoming less painful, to see it and not touch. Time doesn’t make the urge go away, only easier to bear. Last month it had made him ache; today, he is okay.  

“You didn’t answer me.”

“About dating?” he shrugs. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”

She looks sad, but only for a moment. Skills learned from the courtroom.

“...I’d like to know you were being taken care of,” she murmurs, quiet and intimate. “I worry about you.”

Eddie pops another piece of sushi into his mouth, to keep from blurting out that he’s glad to hear it. He wants to be cool about it - he’s always cared about her opinion.

“Don’t worry too much,” he says, swallowing. Then he smiles. “I mean - worry a little -”

She rolls her eyes, and chuckles.

“ - but don’t worry too much. I’m good. It doesn’t always look like it,” God knows he’s always been a bit terrible at taking care of himself. “But I’m...y’know. I’m good . Hanging in there.”

He can’t mention Venom, not yet. But if he could, he’d tell her that he’s got someone watching over him always.

It pulls at him, suddenly, the thought that now is the perfect time to say it. So he does: “And I’m happy you found Dan.”

She blinks, quietly astonished.

“I don’t know if I actually said it, y’know,” he shrugs, playing with the ginger on his plate with his chopsticks. “But he’s a good guy. And you deserve that.”

Anne nods, contemplating. Her eyes are soft, and her mouth does that thing where it wants to smile but her brain is too far ahead of it to make it happen. Eddie looks at it, and for the first time in a long while, he doesn’t think about kissing her at all. “I’m glad,” she murmurs. “...Thank you.”

Eddie is the one to take care of the bill. Anne heads out first, he stays behind to watch the rain get lighter and lighter under the awning in front of the restaurant. It’s chilly outside, he knows, but his body feels warm under his jacket.  

“You were pretty quiet in there,” he says, watching cars.  

A moment of catharsis.

“Catharsis?” Eddie snorts. “Is that what that was?”

He feels light, though. Light enough to float away, like something heavy has been plucked off his back that he hadn’t known was even there .

Close enough.

A lighter, distant cousin maybe. Venom’s not wrong.  

He breathes, sharply through his nose. “...huh.”




His good cheer carries him through his work that day, and when he gets home he beelines for the shower.

“Damn,” he rubs at his face, lets the hot spray take the tension out of his back. “Gotta get back to the gym.” He moves around a lot, but he’s forgotten what sitting a desk for hours at a time does to a body.


He knows Anne’s different tones by heart, how the changes in her speech reflect her moods. When she wants him to listen, when she wants him to talk. He’s finding that Venom has them too, and though they haven’t been together long, he thinks he’s starting to get a handle on them.


Your mood. Tonight.

“My mood?”

Eddie hums, and thinks about it. He does feel really good.

He drops his hands down to his thighs and feels himself up - up his stomach, around his sides, his ass. Yeah, he’s getting there. He’s not sure why it feels different, at the moment - why Venom seems to be preoccupied.

The familiar ache curls in his belly, dropping to his cock.

Eddie is thinking about jerking off when Venom jumps from his skin - nearly all of him.


He’s careful not to slip in the shower and break open his head. His feet slip inelegantly through water when he jerks, watching as Venom forms right in front of him. Nearly his full size, when he’s taken Eddie over completely - almost a foot taller than him and so much broader. They’re still connected at the waist and hips, and black tendrils streak down to clutch at Eddie’s thighs.

“Hey buddy,” says Eddie, mouth agape. “What’s...ah, the occasion?”

We feel good.

Venom reaches out with a big, clawed hand and strokes hard down Eddie’s front. The touch, even as quick as it is, makes his nipples tighten on his chest as he shivers.

This hasn’t happened yet. Venom hasn’t come out this much, before.

Is it because of Eddie’s mood - his near bliss, his strange lightness since lunch?

There’s something of a hunger, of a longing, in Venom that Eddie feels in his own body. It pools in his chest, like water in his lungs - so strong, so suddenly, that it’s tough to breathe through.

...So that’s it.

He says, “You’re...happy.” And terribly, terribly aroused. They both are.

Venom towers over him, smiling as always. Then he speaks , out loud like he hasn’t since that night on the pier on their first real meeting: “ Very .

“Oh,” says Eddie. “ Oh .”

It comes in one hysterical, desperate thought: Why not ?

It feels as though he’s hanging in the spaces between passing seconds; suspended in time, locked in a moment. That moment is in the water, sliding down Venom’s enormous shoulders. That moment is in the shadow he casts over Eddie, dark and hungry. That moment is in the wide slash of Venom’s smile, teeth like knives. Dazed, Eddie pushes up to lick his own tiny, pitiful tongue up against those fangs, drags it flat against the huge stretch of enamel that he’s seen and felt and tasted tearing men to shreds.

Venom growls - in his head, and outside of it. Eddie feels it rock around in his own skull and can feel it buzz through the big guy’s mouth.

His bathroom wasn’t built to contain such an otherworldly sound; the walls may be shaking with it, it feels like.   

There’s a big, clawed hand at his back and then he’s being slowly picked up. There’s no shock now, no space to be taken aback; he’s feeling Venom’s intentions as his own, a wild blur between them. He feels himself tipping backward until he’s laying down in the tub with Venom hovering overhead, blocking the spray of water with his back. Looking up is a trip, a fight against the searing light of his bathroom, the drops clinging to his eyelashes - and at the center of it all is the sight of the symbiote’s fascinated, terrifying face.

His thighs part on their own, nudging the edges of the tub; his brain has left the building and autopilot has never felt so good. Eddie gulps, and says, “You should fuck me.”

What an idea. How has not thought of it, before?

Venom’s giant hand reaches back and cups him at the crotch, a solid, sticky weight that has Eddie leaking. The tips of those claws brush at his hole and Eddie, for a moment, has to shut his eyes. This is well past weird, now - this is somewhere else entirely.

Your rules?” he asks, amused and sarcastic, his tongue unfurling from his jaw and licking a hot stripe up Eddie’s chest; it stops just by his chin, and Venom watches as Eddie shakes.

“Fuck the rules,” says Eddie, dizzy. “Let’s do it your way this time.”

The symbiote is laughing. The sound of it makes the steamy shower air around them throb, makes Eddie’s breath come in heavy bursts.

Venom’s other hand flattens low on Eddie’s stomach. He’s gotten a bit softer there, from letting his gym membership expire and from eating too much packaged food since moving out of Anne’s place. Venom rubs the heel of his palm under his navel, under that rounded pouch, and says, “You want me here.

“God,” is it possible to be sweating in the shower? He just might be. He doesn’t know anymore. “ God , yeah I do.”

Dazed, he watches the water sluice off Venom’s shoulders and thinks of being pelted by rain, coming out of the restaurant and warmed by Venom’s mysterious sense of satisfaction. He thinks of what they’ve talked about, the words between them: he thinks of rocks sailing through stars, of cotton candy and chocolate and what it feels like to be stripped of loneliness. Maybe it isn’t all his thoughts, but at this point what are they but one?

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs, so quietly the shower could eat it up. “I take back what I said.”

A purr, and Venom leans in close, face inches from his own. Those claws tighten on his stomach, and the sting makes him shiver.

And that is?

Eddie swallows, hard. “D-don’t take it easy on me.”

It’s unnerving - or it used to be - when Venom laughs. He doesn’t show himself outside of Eddie’s body very often, and the sight of those jaws parting to laugh makes him want to whimper. It’s creepy, it’s sexy , and Eddie thinks he may have well and truly lost his mind.

I will not.

There’s a thick, sticky finger breaching him and Eddie bucks, ass squeaking against wet porcelain. The symbiote has done something to dull his claws, but it still feels dangerous - like Eddie must hang on and do nothing else but let the creature use him, or else face punishment; Eddie is so hard he’s sure he’s going to pop.

“God, I can’t, I can’t ,” Eddie bites at his own lips. He can’t afford to have the neighbors hearing him kick up a ruckus, can’t afford to get kicked out - but he can’t make himself shut up, either, not when he’s never felt this good and this excited in his life. “Please, fucking please , just stuff my mouth - I can’t -”

That tongue - strong and slick, delicious - fills his mouth to near-choking. It’s hot, too, hotter than his own blood. It pushes far back into his throat, farther than comfortable; it’s so big it muffles his cries, makes breathing hard, but he doesn’t care.

The air is thick with steam and he doesn’t know where to put his attention. Venom is pulling him into a thousand different directions and Eddie thinks he may just fall apart, here in his shower, plugged by an alien symbiote and moments away from what he knows will be the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life.

Eddie gasps and tries not to gag, breathing sharply through his nose and it moves, back and forth, fucking his throat. He moans, and his eyes slip closed.

His body wants it, Venom’s body wants it, so much more than his mind ever realized.

Venom’s finger expands and moves inside him, and soon enough it’s a thick, blunt weight - bigger and more dexterous than any dick. Eddie rocks into it, trying his best to meet Venom’s rhythm, straining against the the inhuman flesh in his mouth.

He knows about the prostate - that spot that makes so many guys go nuts for taking it up the ass. He’s never tried anything like this, before now, and when he feels Venom nudge that spot that just has to be it, he nearly chokes. He bites down on the tongue in shock, but the big guy doesn’t seem phased at all; he must be feeling it too, because Venom’s body shudders around him.  

More. More of this.

Mmf !”

He whimpers and when the touch grows bolder, pounding into him, he’s pretty sure his muffled cries must sound like a man in agony. It’s blowing through the loud spray of the shower. His neighbors are going to freak.  

See? Screaming is good.

Blearily, he sees the bright white of Venom’s eyes, and nods.

He hears a mantra - his own name sighed in a beastly voice, roaring in his head. On the outside, Venom merely snarls from the throat; Eddie is glad for their connection, glad he can feel how good it is for him too, even if the big guy doesn’t betray much outwardly.

It sounds wet and sticky, where Venom breaches him. Eddie’s legs twitch, heels sliding through the water as he fucks himself against it. His own fingers tingle, as does his tongue, and he thinks he may pass out from the feedback of sensation, from the power of Venom’s pleasure in his skull, his cock.  

The tongue whips sharply out of Eddie’s mouth just as he comes, securing around his cock instead to catch it all. Venom pumps him, greedy, hungry ; something approaching satiation burns at Eddie’s stomach, the base of his spine, as Venom comes too. That big, powerful back undulates under the water as the symbiote’s maw opens in a hiss, drooling onto Eddie’s chest.

Eddie’s back thuds against the tub. He pants, ragged and greedy for air, as he watches Venom lick at his own mouth with dazed, gluttonous pleasure. Those big shoulders are trembling, faintly.

Delicious.” Not a drop wasted; Venom smiles like a killer in a room full of prey, and Eddie finds himself grinning back.

“...Think I’m just gonna...hang out here…” he can’t keep his eyes open. It’s too hot, and he feels too heavy to move. “...good a place as any…”

Distantly, as though through smoke, he feels Venom seep back inside and overtake his body completely. He keeps his eyes shut, hears the sound of the shower being turned off. He’s moving - Venom’s moving - and before he knows it, he’s falling back onto his mattress with the symbiote’s black form nestling back inside his bones.

Eddie is asleep in minutes, to the sound of Venom’s happy purr.




Lunch plans for today is Mexican, an old haunt neither of them have been to in a while.

“You’re looking good,” she says. “Been sleeping well?”

Something like that.

“Something like that,” Eddie murmurs, grinning. He shoves his hands into his pockets and pinches at his side, because he can feel Venom’s prickling smugness coiling in that space between his shoulder blades, tingling firecracker sharp. It makes him jump a little and he would, at some point, like to work past this whole ‘getting weird looks from Anne’ thing someday.

He clears his throat. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” she gestures with a jerk of her shoulder. “Let’s walk, though? It’s nice today, and I don’t feel like getting caught in traffic.”

“Hey, I’m game.”

Maybe they’ll get to a point one day where she’ll hook her arm around his again, as friends, but for now they walk with side-by-side. It’s nice - it’s not what he would’ve wanted a year ago, but it’s nice . He’s happy, she’s happy, and - weirdly enough, so is Venom, even as he grumbles into Eddie’s ear about dead meat.

He’ll get him some tater tots, later.

Cotton candy.

Cotton candy, too.