Not Eddie Brock update

Peter pulled the bedsheets over his naked lower body, backing down the bed as Mary Jane stood up at its foot, her body immersed in the symbiote like it was liquid leather, every inch of her flesh exposed while also thrillingly left to the imagination.

“The symbiote? Jesus, Mary Jane, we have to get that thing off—“

She cut him off, her hand shooting under his blanket to his cock. Time slowed to a crawl. She could feel each and every muscle in her arm as she stretched it, and when she found his cock again, her hand discovered it pore by pore, the ultra-sensitive symbiote gloving her hand making her excruciatingly aware of his endowment once more. 

“The symbiote told me how fast you recover,” Mary Jane said. “Don’t think you can get away with just giving me one serving of cum and calling it a day.”

Peter moaned, a tingling whisper in the dark.

“I’ll drain you dry,” Mary Jane purred, taking an eternity to let the words vibrate through her. “Then I’m going to leave you webbed up to make more delicious cum for me. And while I’m waiting, I’m going to kill all those asshole supervillains that waste your time when you could be spending it with me. When I get back, you’re going to fuck me again. And again. And again…”

Peter jerked back, but as his head and shoulders moved away, his hips jerked toward Mary Jane, and her hand was unexpectedly full of his hardening cock.

“Well, somebody likes the idea,” Mary Jane said.

Peter could no longer answer her, but his eye were meeting hers. She sucked in her breath, then squeezed his cock as she slid up his body, thrusting her face against his, kissing him hotly. Her hand flew up and down on his cock, milking it in the soft moistness of her gloved hand. He groaned into her open mouth and she stabbed his groan with her tongue.

“No, no,” he panted, prying his mouth away from hers. “MJ… Venom…”

“Call me whatever you like, tiger.”

“You can’t kill anyone… it’s wrong… Mary Jane would…”

“I am Mary Jane. And do you really think I’ve never wanted to kill those freaks for hurting you? Or that you’ve never wanted to. We’ve been in your head, Peter. That’s how we know you want this.”

His cock felt like a baseball bat in her hand, only throbbing like no bat ever could, pulsating with the heated young blood that she loved almost as much as his sweat and cum and saliva, the skin that was still so soft and the bones that were so hard to break…

She eased her face away from his, lips pursed to blow him a kiss point blank as her fingers teased the firmness of his swollen member. It was already as hard as it had been before.

Peter groaned and lifted his hips a little, giving his prick to her jerking grasp. “No killing. Or I’ll stop. I won’t give you my cum.”

Mary Jane pouted. He was being a little hypocrite, like always—both she and the symbiote hated that—but it seemed like that was baked into him. And, after all, compromise was part of a good relationship. The symbiote had wanted to wear Mary Jane’s body as it ripped his guts out, and Mary Jane had wanted to rip the symbiote off her even if it took all the skin with it, but they’d reached a compromise.

Besides, he’d probably let her beat the hell out of those monsters. That seemed to be allowed under his prim moral code.

“If we agree?” she asked, speaking for both herself and the symbiote now.

“I’ll fuck you,” Peter said.

He had such a lovely cock to do it with, too. Mary Jane licked her lips as she looked down at its bare length. Long, hard as a rock, and so swollen that it seemed to glow red. 

“Anything to buy time while you get your hands on some sonics,” Mary Jane whined petulantly. “I know, you’re worried about how poor, noble Mary Jane would feel if you pulled her out of us and she had blood on her manicure.”

“This isn’t you,” Peter insisted, though his voice was strained, like his cock strained in her hand, gulping and throbbing with every stroke she gave it. She thought the same quiver going through it could be heard in his words.

“Just like you weren’t you when you were wearing the symbiote?” Mary Jane asked, squeezing tighter, stroking him faster. “Give us your word you won’t try to separate us and we accept.”

“I can’t promise that,” Peter gritted out. She could feel his precum bubbling out from his knob, rubbing silkily between her fingers as it trickled down his shaft and into her pistoning fist.

Mary Jane brought her hand down to the root of his cock and held it there with a noose-tight grip, his balls thrumming below it, his shaft thundering over it, reddening and spilling more precum for her hungry hand—waiting for her to lubricate his long, stiff member even more, waiting for her to use it. “Then we leave you stiff as a railroad spike, kill them all right now, and you’ll fuck us when we get back anyway! We know you will! You love us!”

“Fine,” Peter gasped, and Mary Jane immediately moved her hand again, rubbing the brief excess of precum into the tightly stretched skin of his erection. “Deal.” He groaned it out as if he’d come already.

“Let’s seal it with a kiss,” Mary Jane said. She hunched over his groin, tongue already out, and her fingers danced over the shaft, waiting for her hungry tongue to join in. When her tongue flickered over his length, when her lips brushed against his cockhead, he threw his head back, his prick gulping in anticipation of the inevitable orgasm, the avalanche that was inevitable from the moment she took him into her mouth.

But it was when he reached down to stroke her hair that Mary Jane truly knew that he was hers.

Venom: Her. The symbiote. And Peter Parker.