[ For Venom, it's quite different. Seeing Angela squirm doesn't invigorate him with a sense of power, like he's rendered her wholly pliable to his whims. Rather, he feels like he's doing her a service-- the beginning, it seems, of an act of reciprocity. He leaves her over-encumbered with pleasure, beside herself in the haze of her own arousal, from some twisted motivation resembling gratitude. Like he wants to thank her for sharing herself with him through this bond, with this act cementing the new and inseparable linkage among herself, Eddie, and the symbiote. Venom no longer represents the latter two, but the three of them altogether.
Which is why every sensation of pleasure, every goosebump and tantalized twitch of Angela's body, is equally Venom's. Because he can feel her feeling the very pleasure he instills, almost as if he's pleasuring himself. Though his tongue is massive against Angela's, he notes her fascination that has overcome her fear towards what is alien. He notes her attempt to respond with her own mouth and tongue, to press delicately and intimately with her own kisses against the slithering girth. It is worth noting once more how difficult it would be for him to kiss back, how many precious seconds he'd be wasting to relinquish his tongue, when he can simply go on lavishing her like this. With a distinct care, for that matter, that keeps him from outright smothering her with a barrage of languid licks.
And of course, his ministrations below are ceaseless. What he continues doing with his hands and tendrils don't stop, as it'll take far more than this to leave Venom exhausted. His is an endurance amplified by the symbiote's exposure to their former enemy, as well as the endurance Eddie's own physicality brings to their makeup. Venom, once the sum of both man and symbiote, shows Angela just how much that's worth-- how much of it exists for her to be a part of.
It's true, though. Venom would happily keep going, stopping only if Angela ever tires from overstimulation or exhaustion. But she proves, in her own way, to be relentless. She overcomes that haze of her own pleasure to place her hands on the wall, arch her back slightly, and assume a somewhat different position as a result-- like she's bracing herself for more. So when she looks up at Venom, fighting every temptation to succumb, Venom can only grin down at her proudly. Not having to explicitly know her intentions in words, but solely in feeling. ]
Oh, we understand you. Just as you understand us.
[ He had risen away from Angela to speak, seemingly no longer interested in kissing. And the force between Angela's legs - the steady pummeling of a tendril that once assumed contingent shapes - ceases. Venom slowly relinquishes said tedril, allowing it to feel out her walls and press every side before vanishing. But the reprieve of emptiness here doesn't last. He feels her desire for the touch of a "normal" lover, or perhaps the closest thing to it achievable by Venom. And in the briefest respite this moment affords, Venom prepares himself to deliver. A phallic shape emerges from between his own legs, conforming - as Venom's body does - to the shape of Eddie Brock. Venom's girth is Eddie's, and soon they'll both share it. Because he doesn't take an extra moment to linger in front of Angela, opting instead to steadily lower his hips, Angela's legs spread all the while.
With Angela's back arched, Venom takes that as an invitation, slipping his arm underneath it. He lowers his center of gravity as he reenters her walls, his girth here more substantial than the tendril's. More authentic. And he keeps sliding until the hilt meets her slit and their bodies fully connect. He's steadier here than he's ever been, wanting Angela's body to accommodate him fully... to feel the utter scale of him.
And to think, before he even begins pounding away at her... his other tendril hasn't stopped encircling one of her breasts, tip caressing her nipple. Against her own relentlessness, he clearly likes reminding her of his. And here he is about to share more of that resilience, bucking his hips forward. Asserting himself, again and again, between her legs. The bed starts creaking loudly to every shift of their weight, as Venom lets out a hungry growl. ]
We won't stop, Angela. You know this. Not until you finish.
[ Steadily, his force increases. His hips clash with hers, less like the clandestine retreat of two lovers, but like the animalistic consummation of a shared instinct. And as he establishes this rhythm, he once more summons his tongue. Utilizes it as he did previously, leaving yet more claiming licks on the one whom he's mounted. Theirs is a mutual ownership - one over the other, and vice versa - but here's Venom asserting his share. ]
no subject
Which is why every sensation of pleasure, every goosebump and tantalized twitch of Angela's body, is equally Venom's. Because he can feel her feeling the very pleasure he instills, almost as if he's pleasuring himself. Though his tongue is massive against Angela's, he notes her fascination that has overcome her fear towards what is alien. He notes her attempt to respond with her own mouth and tongue, to press delicately and intimately with her own kisses against the slithering girth. It is worth noting once more how difficult it would be for him to kiss back, how many precious seconds he'd be wasting to relinquish his tongue, when he can simply go on lavishing her like this. With a distinct care, for that matter, that keeps him from outright smothering her with a barrage of languid licks.
And of course, his ministrations below are ceaseless. What he continues doing with his hands and tendrils don't stop, as it'll take far more than this to leave Venom exhausted. His is an endurance amplified by the symbiote's exposure to their former enemy, as well as the endurance Eddie's own physicality brings to their makeup. Venom, once the sum of both man and symbiote, shows Angela just how much that's worth-- how much of it exists for her to be a part of.
It's true, though. Venom would happily keep going, stopping only if Angela ever tires from overstimulation or exhaustion. But she proves, in her own way, to be relentless. She overcomes that haze of her own pleasure to place her hands on the wall, arch her back slightly, and assume a somewhat different position as a result-- like she's bracing herself for more. So when she looks up at Venom, fighting every temptation to succumb, Venom can only grin down at her proudly. Not having to explicitly know her intentions in words, but solely in feeling. ]
Oh, we understand you. Just as you understand us.
[ He had risen away from Angela to speak, seemingly no longer interested in kissing. And the force between Angela's legs - the steady pummeling of a tendril that once assumed contingent shapes - ceases. Venom slowly relinquishes said tedril, allowing it to feel out her walls and press every side before vanishing. But the reprieve of emptiness here doesn't last. He feels her desire for the touch of a "normal" lover, or perhaps the closest thing to it achievable by Venom. And in the briefest respite this moment affords, Venom prepares himself to deliver. A phallic shape emerges from between his own legs, conforming - as Venom's body does - to the shape of Eddie Brock. Venom's girth is Eddie's, and soon they'll both share it. Because he doesn't take an extra moment to linger in front of Angela, opting instead to steadily lower his hips, Angela's legs spread all the while.
With Angela's back arched, Venom takes that as an invitation, slipping his arm underneath it. He lowers his center of gravity as he reenters her walls, his girth here more substantial than the tendril's. More authentic. And he keeps sliding until the hilt meets her slit and their bodies fully connect. He's steadier here than he's ever been, wanting Angela's body to accommodate him fully... to feel the utter scale of him.
And to think, before he even begins pounding away at her... his other tendril hasn't stopped encircling one of her breasts, tip caressing her nipple. Against her own relentlessness, he clearly likes reminding her of his. And here he is about to share more of that resilience, bucking his hips forward. Asserting himself, again and again, between her legs. The bed starts creaking loudly to every shift of their weight, as Venom lets out a hungry growl. ]
We won't stop, Angela. You know this. Not until you finish.
[ Steadily, his force increases. His hips clash with hers, less like the clandestine retreat of two lovers, but like the animalistic consummation of a shared instinct. And as he establishes this rhythm, he once more summons his tongue. Utilizes it as he did previously, leaving yet more claiming licks on the one whom he's mounted. Theirs is a mutual ownership - one over the other, and vice versa - but here's Venom asserting his share. ]