[ Where Venom was gentle before, and careful, it was clear he was also guarded. But Angela's acceptance of her bond, down to her perishing any trepidation in her mind, strikes Venom as a vote of confidence. He can feel the change, like the opening of floodgates. As a signal for him to let down some walls of his own, his stare of intense contemplation becomes an enthusiastic grin. No tongue out yet, but fangs are nonetheless bared-- the sheer animality of Venom returning to the surface. Because now it seems that so much of what's to follow will be predicated on instinct. The kind that fills Angela with a sense of belonging the longer she dwells in Venom's presence, and the closer that she is to it.
Venom separates from her back now to give himself allowance for his subsequent plans. ]
Not that it's a bad thing. We consider this a fun exercise.
[ It's as he utters these words that Venom's hand, the one still holding Angela's hip, rises to her shoulder. His other hand retreats from the bed to clasp the opposite shoulder, such that both hands soon tug. Angela, meanwhile, witnesses the slow beginnings of him disrobing her, Venom taking her coat and tossing it onto an adjacent crate.
And while he could simply crouch or do anything else 'normally' to adjust his own height, he doesn't bother to lean over to pull down Angela's pants. Tendrils, rather, emerge from his body to slip into the fabric, slithering between it and her skin as it all obtains a grip. Her blouse, on the other hand, is another story-- demanding more attention from those same tendrils, that steadily unbutton her, coiling around each button and pulling as one would using fingers.
When both garments have fallen, Venom tosses them where the coat first landed. And he leans over Angela's shoulder, hovering over her from behind. His tongue finally rolls out from his maw, the latter a disarrayed arrangement of fangs. Here is a creaturely being that seems expressly designed to kill and destroy, but his lethal exterior is only... soft. Careful. The tongue, for instance, moves with a deliberation missing from his frenzied movements during combat. It glides smoothly against the surface of Angela's skin, lapping up the side of her neck and the corner of her jawline. Despite the thin trail of saliva that it leaves, Angela would not be mistaken to take this as some gesture of affection. ]
We can go further than this. We simply want nothing between us.
[ Truly, Eddie often wore the suit in lieu of true clothing, and today remains no exception. Eddie places that much stock in this bond.
And if Angela assents, Venom continues. The same tendrils that exercised care and precision before now muster that same acumen, some undoing Angela's bra while others pull her panties to the floor. It's when those too are discarded that she'll find herself clad in nothing, save for the warming presence of the symbiote. Of Venom. And now, he steps close enough behind her that once again, there is nothing between them. Only her back exposed to the undulating mass, the utter substance of Venom that - despite appearing viscous - is surprisingly firm.
He then enfolds his arms around her in an embrace that is distinctly warm. Like a hearth in a log cabin during winter, or sunlight after rain in springtime. Perhaps even the omnipresent glow of the summer sun that Angela remembers so fondly. It's with these feelings that Venom continues to embrace her, primed to consummate the connection that's been tugging at them since they first made contact. ]
You must tell us, Angela. Tell us if you're ready.
no subject
[ Where Venom was gentle before, and careful, it was clear he was also guarded. But Angela's acceptance of her bond, down to her perishing any trepidation in her mind, strikes Venom as a vote of confidence. He can feel the change, like the opening of floodgates. As a signal for him to let down some walls of his own, his stare of intense contemplation becomes an enthusiastic grin. No tongue out yet, but fangs are nonetheless bared-- the sheer animality of Venom returning to the surface. Because now it seems that so much of what's to follow will be predicated on instinct. The kind that fills Angela with a sense of belonging the longer she dwells in Venom's presence, and the closer that she is to it.
Venom separates from her back now to give himself allowance for his subsequent plans. ]
Not that it's a bad thing. We consider this a fun exercise.
[ It's as he utters these words that Venom's hand, the one still holding Angela's hip, rises to her shoulder. His other hand retreats from the bed to clasp the opposite shoulder, such that both hands soon tug. Angela, meanwhile, witnesses the slow beginnings of him disrobing her, Venom taking her coat and tossing it onto an adjacent crate.
And while he could simply crouch or do anything else 'normally' to adjust his own height, he doesn't bother to lean over to pull down Angela's pants. Tendrils, rather, emerge from his body to slip into the fabric, slithering between it and her skin as it all obtains a grip. Her blouse, on the other hand, is another story-- demanding more attention from those same tendrils, that steadily unbutton her, coiling around each button and pulling as one would using fingers.
When both garments have fallen, Venom tosses them where the coat first landed. And he leans over Angela's shoulder, hovering over her from behind. His tongue finally rolls out from his maw, the latter a disarrayed arrangement of fangs. Here is a creaturely being that seems expressly designed to kill and destroy, but his lethal exterior is only... soft. Careful. The tongue, for instance, moves with a deliberation missing from his frenzied movements during combat. It glides smoothly against the surface of Angela's skin, lapping up the side of her neck and the corner of her jawline. Despite the thin trail of saliva that it leaves, Angela would not be mistaken to take this as some gesture of affection. ]
We can go further than this. We simply want nothing between us.
[ Truly, Eddie often wore the suit in lieu of true clothing, and today remains no exception. Eddie places that much stock in this bond.
And if Angela assents, Venom continues. The same tendrils that exercised care and precision before now muster that same acumen, some undoing Angela's bra while others pull her panties to the floor. It's when those too are discarded that she'll find herself clad in nothing, save for the warming presence of the symbiote. Of Venom. And now, he steps close enough behind her that once again, there is nothing between them. Only her back exposed to the undulating mass, the utter substance of Venom that - despite appearing viscous - is surprisingly firm.
He then enfolds his arms around her in an embrace that is distinctly warm. Like a hearth in a log cabin during winter, or sunlight after rain in springtime. Perhaps even the omnipresent glow of the summer sun that Angela remembers so fondly. It's with these feelings that Venom continues to embrace her, primed to consummate the connection that's been tugging at them since they first made contact. ]
You must tell us, Angela. Tell us if you're ready.