Work Text:
Despite the years they had been at this, communication was still a work in progress.
Eddie was trying to make himself coffee when Venom rumbled from somewhere near his lungs, big and deep and present and nonverbal in a way that made him put the milk down before it made it into his coffee. “This is for both of us,” Eddie reminded it somewhat patiently. “I don’t make any yummy delicious brain chemicals for you if I’m too tired to have them. And then we’re both unhappy.”
Venom rumbled again, and Eddie wasn’t sure if it was physically manifesting in his chest or merely messing with his nerves to draw his attention to the middle of his breastbone. Eddie picked the milk up, but Venom’s pull was insistent, and Eddie easily swayed by it, so Eddie put the milk down again.
“Darling? What’s up?
We want to play, Eddie, it whined, and Eddie laughed, lifting a fist to rub circles on his chest soothingly. Little black tendrils oozed out of his chest and wrapped around his fist, holding it close and tight to Eddie’s chest. A flood of warmth rushed through his veins, meandering through his system to his cock, stopping to fill him with sheer affection on the way. Let us play.
Eddie swallowed hard, trying to calm his dick down so he could enjoy his coffee in peace before Venom fucked his brains out. At this point, it was more the principle of the thing than anything else. It was hard to maintain boundaries when he couldn’t even maintain separate thoughts, but Eddie found it important to set himself a few impossible goals, just to keep himself humble. “Yes. Yes, of course we can. But can we play in like…five minutes? Or, fuck, it doesn’t even have to be five, I just need my coffee first, okay. V?”
Venom was sulking, he could tell, and it didn’t bother to reply. Not sulking, it said, sulkily.
Smiling despite himself, Eddie went to open the milk container and realized his hand was still bound to his chest. “Hey, buddy? Little help?” He tried to tug his hand off of his chest, but it just wouldn’t budge, still wrapped up in strands of Venom like rope. “I can drink my coffee black, but neither of us like it. Do you really want my mouth to taste like black coffee for the next hour?” Venom didn’t reply, and Eddie decided to play his trump card. “I have chocolate syrup.”
What are you talking about, Eddie? We released your hand when you told us to wait. That was its teasing voice. Okay, so Venom wasn't planning to wait at all, then.
Eddie sucked a breath in through his teeth, glancing down at his hand. It wasn’t covered by Venom’s tendrils anymore, but he still couldn’t move it away from his chest. Invisibly bound by Venom’s will, by whatever ins and outs of his system it could control with a whim. A whine escaped his throat, cock rising pavlovian from the way it spoke to him, the way it did…whatever this was to him. Recreational gaslighting. The diy-est of diy bondage. God, he really was so whipped.
We have not tried that yet! it said, sounding far too interested for Eddie’s comfort.
“V,” Eddie said, voice still hoarse and whiny in a way that he hated, but that Venom seemed to enjoy from the way it hummed, zinging along Eddie’s nerves. “Coffee. You said.”
I did. And I am waiting to play until we are done with your coffee.
That was a fucking lie, but Eddie’s cock throbbed. Eddie rubbed his free palm against the denim on his thigh to keep from reaching for his cock. “I can’t open the milk.”
Oh, did you forget how? Your primitive monkey brain too dumb to remember how to twist off a cap? Don’t worry, Eddie. We will help you.
Eddie shivered, Venom’s words careening through him like an electric shock. So it was this game again. Eddie would have really preferred to drink his coffee first, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited. Venom materialized from the skin of his stomach, face climbing to the side of his vision and leering teasingly at him, while one of its tentacles twisted the cap off of the milk.
“Thanks, V,” Eddie managed somehow past the lump in his throat.
You are welcome, Eddie.
Reaching one handed, Eddie poured some milk into his coffee, managing to both keep from dropping the milk despite his sweaty palm, and actually look at how much milk he was pouring, which he considered a success based on how hard his dick was, and how much he wanted to play now. “Wouldn’t have needed your help, though, if you had just let my hand go.”
Venom tutted, and it rattled Eddie’s bones. We did. Did you forget how you use that, too? Maybe you are stupider than we thought.
He blew a breath out slowly and reached for his cup. “Yeah, yeah, I’m stupid, got it,” Eddie said, trying for flippancy that he did not feel. “Can I enjoy my coffee without my dick getting hard before we play?”
Very well, Eddie.
And all at once Eddie’s cock was soft again. But contrary to what Eddie had been hoping, with his cock soft Eddie only felt more turned on, veins fiery hot with want that he had no outlet for. He heard himself moan, and then without thinking about it, he reached down to grip his soft cock in the hopes he could make it hard again by pure want.
He forgot he was holding the cup, though. How had he forgotten? One moment he was holding it, the next Venom was snatching it out of thin air as his hard-won coffee spilled out across the kitchen floor. A terrible, betrayed noise left Eddie’s mouth, and Venom shivered under his skin, making Eddie break out in goosebumps.
Venom tsked, and this time the shiver was all Eddie. I thought you wanted coffee.
“Well,” said Eddie, dry-mouthed and wanting. “Seems like it’s not meant to be. Play time?”
Venom’s head rocked back and forth, a very loose attempt at shaking its head. I think it’s only right that you get what you want, it said, seductive and as soft as it ever got.
Eddie forced a laugh. “Doesn’t make sense for me to make a whole ‘nother pot, does it? Wasteful. And we’re on a budget.”
It laughed. Kneel for us, Eddie.
Eddie dropped to his knees without a second thought. He was really getting old enough that he should start to think about things like his knees, but Venom was there, and Venom wouldn’t let him get hurt, wouldn't let him suffer from back pain and bad knees.
Never.
So if Eddie didn't need to think of the state of his knees, why should Eddie think of anything at all?
Good boy, Eddie.
“V,” he moaned, free hand still massaging his flaccid cock through his jeans. “Can I get hard again, please? I’m sorry, I wanna play.”
Venom laughed, open mouth, and as always something about its mouth, big and dangerous and sexy made heat curl in Eddie’s stomach. Coffee first. It looked down and Eddie followed its gaze to the pool of rapidly cooling coffee on the kitchen floor.
“You can’t be serious.” He knew it was, though. It always was.
If you can’t be trusted to hold cups for yourself, Eddie, maybe this is how you should get all your drinks from now on. Poured across the floor to lick up. Like a dog.
Eddie’s skin was more goosebump than flesh. Fuck. He was so keyed up his cock should be leaking, but it still wasn’t even hard, and he had forgotten how to move his arm all together. No, that wasn't right. Venom wasn’t letting him move his arm. That was it.
Having some trouble with your memory? Ours is better. We have memories of more years than you could even imagine. I can remind you of what is.
Eddie had a witty retort, really, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out but a whine.
You were supposed to be drinking your coffee, Venom reminded him, sounding so effortlessly patient. We can’t play until you finish with that.
Now that Eddie’s mouth was pried open, he couldn’t manage to close it again, which was just as well, because he had a task now, didn’t he? He bent over at the waist and slowly dipped his tongue into the coffee.
It was disgusting; the coffee was already unpleasantly cold, and Eddie knew how clean his floors were—which was not very. He already knew Venom wouldn’t let him get sick from something like this, but it didn’t make the act less distasteful. It was humiliating, degrading, and he could feel Venom’s laughter vibrating through his internal organs.
Eddie’s tongue rasped across the floorboards and he shuddered. It was hard not to drag his nose through it, too, so he did. There were so many things wrong with him to even get to this point, but this was more. Like a dog, Venom had said, and Eddie had felt a rush of heat, brain filled with a rush of terrible, horny images—Venom walking him on a leash, Venom putting him in a cage—and it was enough that he felt like he could almost cum untouched, if he could cum at all.
He was bent over, licking up his cold coffee, and his only thought was that he ought to be hard. He always got hard during shit like this, and it was cruel that he wasn’t now. He should be able to hump his hand or Venom or the fucking floor while he did somehing so pointlessly humiliating to thrill Venom, to make their heart beat fast and their brain pump out delicious chemicals for Venom to absorb.
It took endless, painful minutes for him to clear up most of it, and when he sat back up, panting and flushed, his tongue stayed lolling just over the curve of his bottom lip. Eddie moaned, turning toward Venom, and Venom grinned its toothy grin at him.
Good boy, it whispered into his ears, and Eddie shivered.
Venom seeped from his skin into a handful of tendrils that wrapped around Eddie’s cock like they always did, moving and teasing, but Eddie was still soft and useless. He was on the verge of tears, which was so pointless, because he liked this, but it felt infinitely harder to like it when he didn’t have the shield of orgasm to hide behind. Not, “I like this because it makes me cum hard,” but, “I like this, fullstop.” Eddie moaned again, gesturing to his tongue with his hand, which felt beyond stupid.
We would not call you beyond stupid, Eddie. Stupid is enough.
Shit, Eddie was so horny he should be fucking dripping precum, but his cock was flaccid and his tongue was dripping a line of spit down his chin, and how did he always end up in these situations? Jesus, he needed someone to snap him out of it.
His own hand flew up without his say-so, and slapped him firmly in the cheek, far harder than he thought he should be able to smack himself. People had a sense for that, he was pretty sure, an innate sort of sense that stopped them from doing things like hitting themselves at full strength, but things like that never mattered to Venom.
His eyes watered at the hit. He wanted another.
He felt himself settle more firmly onto his knees, ass resting on his heels, and the hand bound to his chest slowly lowering itself to his crotch, all masterfully puppeted by Venom. Eddie tried to find his words, but all he could do was make a broken whine that sounded like a sob. He needed to get hard or he was going to die. Eddie’s words slipped like water through a sieve because he was too stupid for his words. Please, V, he thought—or tried to think—but he was still sitting dumbly, tongue hanging out of his mouth like a fucking show dog.
Mongrel, more like. Mutt, Venom said, but a quiet one, and it shouldn’t have been hot, but it was. It turned his stomach to think he liked it when they played like this. He was a reporter, dammit, he made his living with his words, and when Venom took that from him, what was he if not stupid? He had asked Venom to do this to him before, and what was that if not stupid?
He felt safe with Venom, which was insane, because it was a man-eating pile of space alien goo, but he could tell when Venom meant something or was playing, its thoughts as wrapped up in his head as his own, now. Venom’s face moved back in the center of his vision, grinning.
Hey, Eddie—stop hitting yourself.
He slapped himself again and again, the heat building up on his cheek until it was a searing burn and there were tears coming from his eyes, and spit dripping from his tongue as he panted like a dumb fucking dog.
Either Venom was taking pity on him, or he had passed whatever test Venom had been waiting for him to pass because all of a sudden, the writhing tentacles on his cock was getting him hard again. He moaned, trying to buck up against the tentacles, against his palm, but he was virtually frozen: his hand at his crotch, the other at his cheek, his mouth pried open, his tongue leaking.
“Pease,” he managed finally around his tongue, and the grin on Venom’s face got fonder by a tick.
Couldn’t understand you. Try again.
Eddie could cry. Why did Venom only ever leave him with please? “Pl—” he moaned, cutting himself off. Fuck, his cock was so hard and he was so close.
No blood for your dumb little brain? Did all of it rush to your little dick?
He tried again, and managed, “Pleeeease?”
Venom laughed dark, its long tongue reaching out to lick the tears off Eddie’s face as they fell. Does Eddie want to cum?
Eddie knew the response for that, the word that meant he wanted to, but he couldn’t find it. He kneeled, frozen, and tried to convey his desperation with his eyes alone.
Venom laughed again, sparkling across his skin and lighting his nerves up like a Christmas tree. Very well, Eddie. We know what you need. It’s okay you’re too cock dumb to tell me. We know what you need.
And it did, it always did. The freeze on his hips lifted by degrees, and Eddie started grinding into his frozen palm at once, moaning and drooling and whining as he raced towards his orgasm. Venom formed one of its giant hands, cupping Eddie’s face on the throbbing, aching side, and resting its thumb on Eddie’s tongue. It held its thumb there, and it made Eddie feel more owned than having it in his head did.
The thumb stroked lightly over Eddie’s tongue and Eddie moaned. If he were standing, his knees would have been knocking. One more time, Eddie. Say it one more time.
“Pleeeez,” Eddie slurred and his tongue tried to rise under Venom’s thumb, but Venom didn’t let it move, and then he was cumming into his jeans, rubbing off against his frozen hand. Venom replaced its hand with its tongue, pressing into Eddie’s mouth, and fucking him deep into his throat, and Eddie yielded his body to it and let himself float.
Eddie came to some time later in their bed, body clean of sweat and cum and coffee residue, and wearing pajamas. He looked around for Venom, but it didn’t make its presence immediately known.
“Darling?” he said hoarsely, twiddling his fingers around in a clear request for Venom to appear. Venom did after a moment, winding around his fingers. “How long was I out?”
Not long, his other said softly from somewhere inside him. Did we have fun?
Venom’s syntax was sometimes beyond Eddie, truly, but when it asked him questions like this, it seemed so immediately obvious to Eddie that it wasn’t asking how it had worked for the two of them, but for Eddie himself. “Yes love, we had lots of fun.”
Good. Venom poured out from within him, and blanketed him in its black, oozing form. We did have fun, it reaffirmed.
“Yes,” said Eddie, unbearably fond. “We did.”