A/N: Bad tentacle rape is bad. So I made good tentacle rape! … if you can consider rape good. Anywho! This story was written by Dead Wang Toys.
Warning: There will be nonconsensual sex… via tentacles. To boys. Annnnnd, possibly cursing.
Summary: I don't know how many times I can type out tentacle rape. Yeah. That's the summary. Just rape. With tentacles.
Disclaimer: MARVEL at me for I do not own MARVEL, yet I can still MARVEL-ously use their MARVEL-ous characters. It's quite WONDER-ful. Wait… What?
The night was muggy, stuffed with pollution, as New York City tended to be. It had to be closer to 3:30 in the morning now. Heat usually made the denizens antsy, criminals becoming prone to fits of violence at a sooner rate. Strangely, not this night. Spidey thought it was odd, of course, but exhaustion was slowly hazing his mind, making his limbs weaken. The city was quiet, thrumming with the sounds of air-conditioners blasting and window curtains rustling in the slight breeze. Hot air shifting more hot air.
Peter was in suit, dangling from his favorite grotesque, while the emotionless eyes of Spiderman reflected the cityscape. All was calm. "Must be my lucky night," he mumbled to himself. It was too late to keep waiting for a hypothetical catastrophe when he had work in the morning. As a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his cheek, Peter immediately decided it was time to go back to his apartment and do his best to rest up. Releasing his grip on his web, his body suddenly plummeted.
With a quick shot from his canister, the superhero caught hold of a side of a building and swung around 360 degrees. Flying high and swinging away, he scanned the streets—just in case. Dead as a doornail, every one of them. By this time, Spiderman was slowing down a bit as he ricocheted from one building top to another. This is slightly off putting…
"Is no one out tonight?" he asked the night, not really expecting an answer. From the corner of his eyesight, a shadow rippled. Swiveling his head to see, Peter jumped down, and paused. Nothing was moving. You're sleep deprived, Spidey. Seeing shadows! First symptom… Peter chastised himself. He tensed and kept heading straight for downtown, ignoring the feeling of being followed.
Once he reached a quaint little apartment complex, he stopped, catching the cornering and crawling up to the roof. He waited a few moments, resting. A cloud or two began to stir, moving over the half moon in the sky. Peter took his chance and quickly dropped between his apartment and the alley behind it. Unfortunately, he had left his window closed. He wrestled with the stuck pane for a second before finally slipping into the dark flat ungracefully. Frowning, Peter crept along the floor until he was far enough away from the window to strip off his mask. Free air suddenly hit his face and that was enough to make him sigh in bliss. Quickly, Peter tore down the first half of his costume, exposing his torso. Breathing in relief, he rummaged about the wall, looking for his dresser.
He was always paranoid that somehow someone would see him changing from Spiderman to Peter Parker or vice versa. It was almost like protocol to undress and redress as fast as humanly possible. Tonight it seemed especially bad as he located his drawers beside his bed; he pulled out the pair of pajamas at the top of his pile. It was a long sleeve button up with pants, but, he'd just leave the window open. He threw on the top, tugging down the rest of his Spiderman costume. Next he swiftly pulled up his pants, tying the drawstring tight.
Soon, the suit was put away and hidden, and Peter felt a bit more relaxed, while walking by the window. He tugged it up high as it could go, propping it so that it wouldn't close. It seemed steady enough, so Peter spun back and hopped in bed, gathering the sheets around him snuggly. With a deep yawn, he let his lids flutter down, muscles going slack to invite slumber to visit him. He disregarded a feeling of uncertainty as he thought about the open window. It was too hot not to have it open, and he himself was much too tired at that point to care.
It was an unwise thought. Like an ancient nightmare, inky shadow upon inky shadow slid into the room. The moon briefly highlighted a gleaming grin before the cloud and smog swallowed it whole. Peter went on breathing softly, unaware. The shadows were slithering across the floor, searching blindly, in no hurry. One came into contact with the footboard, bumping it lightly. Peter's brow scrunched, and he shifted in his bed, a light groan of frustration. The elongated shadows paused, waiting until the youth in the bed settled, his supple body sinking into the down. They sensed the absence of movement and snaked their way upwards; a shadow dipping under the sheets and side-winding over the foot of the mattress, leading others to search the bed, another missing the blankets to instead inch its way across the comforter, and a last running up the footpost's length and wrapping about the end, as if to watch its companions.
In Peter's sleepy state, he rolled over on his side, his hand falling off the edge of the bed innocently. His feet swept across the width of his bed, nearly kicking one of his intruders. It coiled back just in time, rising, billowing the sheet. As if sentient, it appeared to vibrate with anticipation, swelling at the tip when it noted the warm flesh inches away. It bobbed down, rolling over Peter's covered calf. The shadow split viscously, a smaller portion circling his ankle lightly. With a scowl, Peter twitched, bringing his legs closer toward his chest in a fetal position. These creatures surrounded him, lost in their unknown craving. With a renewed purpose, one shade glided over his blanket, its head diving beneath the top near Peter's shoulder. The black thing brushed over the nape of his exposed neck. A irritate whimper slipped past his lips and he swatted the empty air about his neck, imagining a fly bothering him in sleep. Naturally, the covering around him bunched and fell farther down. In the humid air, he didn't mind, unconsciously moving to lie on his back.
New shadows were emerging, rising up from the darkness and invading the trusses of Peter's normally kept bed. They were twisting about the sheets, languidly traveling over to the youth. A bold one pushed its way into the cuff of his pajama pants, ghosting over flesh like a pleased whisper. A second wound over his waist, barely skidding across the peeking stomach. Peter's muscles tensed, and he tiredly grumbled something, mind groggily registering something amiss as he brushed down across his shirt, smoothing it out to hide his naked skin. This made a slender shadow peek up from inside the sheets. As it rose, the sheets billowed out, revealing the exhausted young man in his drowsy splendor. Pale moonlight streamed in from the open window, silhouetting a dark figure standing at the foot of the bed, blackness dripping in thick streams. It was this very blackness that was winding its path across Peter's bed… and now, Peter.
Peter breathed out a moan, noticing only new air circulating around him; a sinister smile looking down upon him all the while. A dark cord had enclosed itself over Peter's thigh. Another journeyed up to his chest, branching out like tree limbs, draping over his shoulder, a new creature running along his jawline, and a last one smoothing against his collarbone. The brunet turned his face away, feeling an odd sensation, his mind ringing. He knew he had felt this sensation before… Then something burned a trail across his mouth. It felt like congealing tar—slightly sticky, but held fluidity.
In an instant, Peter's eyes opened, and he gasped, bolting up right. His hand flew, reaching for his bedside lamp, but a dark mass leapt out, seizing his wrist and immediately halting his movements. "Venom!" Peter hissed.
"Took you long enough to notice us, Parker," the villain purred into the night. Peter tried jerking his hand out of the symbiote's grip, but the inky blackness just spread itself across his forearm. The familiar heat it contained was sinking into his body enticingly. In a slight panic, he began clawing at the substance with his free hand. He hadn't even scratched the black thing when a completely new strand shot out from the nothingness around him and wrapped that hand as well, thin strings catching between his fingers. "Now, now, play nice…"
"What do you want from me?" Peter snapped, pulling at the restraints. The symbiote pulsated, its pressure increasing, sending tingles up and down the poor hero's arms. Venom merely smiled that wicked grin, razor teeth glossy and wet in the silver light.
"Haven't you figured that out yet?" he asked. The pitch-black essence quivered, tightening, and wrenched Peter upwards, raising his arms high over his head. He winced as he felt his shoulders pop at the stretch. The noise seemed to propel Venom to step around the footboard, and rest beside the edge of the bed. Thick, muscled thighs brushed against the rumpled sheets, causing the symbiote to peel away in wavering filaments, searching for Peter.
"Let me go, Venom! If it is a fight you want—"
"Fight, don't fight, we could care less," he murmured as one of his claws reached out like a bolt of lightening. The brunet tried turning away, but the sharp digits were as strong as the rest of him. They caught Peter's chin, scratching his cheek lightly, and held on. "We just want you to watch..."
"Watch what…?" he gulped. Venom's long smile returned, and a thread of the symbiote broke off from the darkness. Peter eyed it cautiously. It wriggled up, the very tip twirling, until it blended smoothly in a sharp point like a needle. Oh no! he thought with wide, doe-eyes, This is it! The end of Spiderman! Stabbed to death in his bed! Gathering his courage, he yanked back his head. This made the talons travel across his skin, leaving a trail of scarlet to bloom in their wake. "Do your worst!" he barked. With a darkly amused chuckle, Venom stooped over Peter. A bulky tentacle suddenly wrapped around Peter's slim waist, hoisting him into the air. He was dragged closer to the brute until they were less than half a dozen inches away. Peter could only watch as the sharpened thing drifted closer toward his torso. With a shuddering breath, the needle-like tip was placed into the peeking hollow of his chest. Warmth emanated from it, burning his naked flesh. The previously forgotten coils of the symbiote came to life, lapping against Peter until it felt like he was baking…
"Are you prepared, little spider?" Venom's gravelly voice asked from the night.
Startled by the sound, Peter squeezed his eyes shut and shouted, "J-Just do it already!"
A gasp tumbled forth when the sound of ripping cloth entered the shadowy room. Fresh air wafted over Peter's sweating collarbone. In the stillness, his eyes opened. Venom was staring at him with those large, unreadable white orbs. Peter let out a breath he did not realize he had held. Tilting his head down, the hero saw his pajama top was missing a button. The first button had been popped off, leaving only a threadbare patch of the light blue material coyly shifting open. The black mass slipped through the buttonhole, the point catching against the fabric and tugging it down. Thoroughly confused, Peter glanced back up to Venom, who stood impossibly calm.
"Uh, not to rush my doom or anything… but you missed," he pointed out. Venom's tongue darted out, whipping back and forth as his face grew even closer, filling Peter's entire range of vision. The villain was breathing in heavy, drawn out puffs. Peter was so focused on the creature in front of him; he briefly disregarded the symbiotic limbs dripping down to slither about his body, until he heard the distinct snip of another button flying off. Immediately, his chin came down, and he caught sight of the lengthy needle-like cord tracing the lines of his lean physique as it parted the shirt. A third button halted the symbiote's mission, and with an angry flick, Peter witnessed the button being severed from its hold. Faintly, a choking noise came from the hero as the thing traveled farther, finding the next button and removing that one as well. It was as if he was mesmerized, brain fizzling, unable to register what was transpiring. The only thing that he managed to whisper in a voice that was losing its nerve was, "Hey, these are my favorite pj's…"
Venom threw back his head, laughter flowing like malicious operatic notes, reverberating throughout Peter's body. It made goosebumps rise, the oppressive air clinging to any skin that dared to show. As Peter hung in the oppressive web the symbiote created, he gave a good jerk, testing the strength of his enemy. Venom draped himself over the prone superhero, that versatile tongue sliding over his rows of fangs. A knee was pressing upon the edge of the mattress, and Venom became even closer than before. With a leisurely move, Venom brought his claw to cradle the back of Peter's chestnut colored head.
"Wha—" And suddenly the talons tensed, the short strands of hair being pulled to the side. The shot of pain had the brunet dizzy, and he followed the direction Venom was hinting at. Displayed in the murky shadows of the room was Peter's cut cheek, the delicate skin bruised and thin lines of blood oozed freshly. With a pleased growl, Venom's tongue lashed out, swiping the injury with the flat part of it. Peter's eyes unfocused as he felt the cool, damp appendage ran across the overheated broken flesh. There was a release of tension as the tongue made its passage toward Peter's ear and twirled around the shell sinfully. The sound of Venom's excitement, his tongue gliding down, leaving behind flushing skin, it was too much for the hero to take at once. "S-Stop it, you creep!" he demanded, shaking his head back and forth. Venom pulled back, his tongue following, swaying in ecstasy. A string of salvia, tinged pink, was still connected to Peter's cheek.
"Hmmm, tasty…" he rumbled deep, drawing out his words, "You're sooooo sweet!"
"You planning on eating me?" Peter managed to reply caustically.
"In so many words…" Venom's tongue returned to its game, pushing its slick way all across Peter's flesh. The smaller man gave a loud keen, desperately trying to move behind his raised arms, but Venom attacked with a renewed frenzy. His teeth scraped over perspiring skin, breathing in deeply as if to inhale Peter's scent. The tentacles attached to him were trembling, more sprang up, wrapping over pale flesh, engulfing him in pure heat. His breath was stolen from him as Venom's large palm was sneaking its way up Peter's uncovered side. He thrashed, crying out into the darkness, protests intangible when a claw found a hardening nipple. Venom flicked a jagged talon over the nub, making Peter arch into the touch with a low whimper.
The youth's eyes were wide as realization dawned on him. "No…!" he breathed, then stifled a desperate moan as Venom grazed his talons across Peter's chest to the other and unattended nipple. His traitorous body was suddenly thrumming, blood pumping, flowing into a lower region. "You can't do this!" Peter shouted into the villain's broad shoulder. Venom moved in closer; the hand at the nape of Peter's neck skimming along his spine, causing intense shivers. It was resting at the band of pajama pants slung low on his hips.
"But, you react so beautifully," a hot voice said at the junction where neck meets shoulder. The symbiotic limb about his waist loosened in a shudder, breaking neatly in strips that wound over different sections of his body. Peter felt his weight drop backwards at the action, but Venom's claw pressed into the small of his back, nails biting into firm flesh, and the other claw caught hold of Peter's constricted wrists. He squeezed the skinny wrists in excitement, leaving the suspended hero to cry out in objection. "See? Beautiful…"
"Please! Let me go!" Peter begged, shoving his dignity into a dusty corner for a while. He was prepared to suffer any minor moment of humiliation to get out of what he assumed was about to happen. "V-Venom, I don't know what you're up to but—" he was cut off when a piece of the symbiote streamed out from the inside of a pant leg and coiled it's way up his chest. It glided easily, rubbing his naked flesh in an infuriatingly pleasant way. "Oh, God! Please, please, let go of me!" Beads of sweat were quickly rolling down, splashing against the thick, dark shaft of tentacles. The heat was becoming too oppressive; Peter's breath was sluggish, then shattered by a cry of surprised arousal every few minutes. Venom was pawing, touching, grazing all across the body underneath him, searching for sensitive spots, and finding them slowly. A rough hand had traveled along, resting atop Peter's knee. It sloped down, spreading open Peter's legs wide, and stopping at his inner thigh, caressing through the flannel fabric with blunt digits. No! I have to think of a way out of this! He swung his vision to Venom, who was leering at him the whole time.
"Anxious…?" the villain inquired with a sinister grin that made moonlight reflect about the room. Venom was just like a monster from a fairytale and Peter couldn't stop the shivers from taking over his body. "Are we your first?" came the curious question. There was a hesitation where Peter did not know how to respond, but eventually, he nodded, tearing his eyes away. "Ah, well, we can be considerate… What do you want us to do so that our innocent, little spider is… comfortable?"
Peter repressed the shocking urge to blush, although not the shaky request, "I-I want to see Eddie Brock." This time it was Venom's turn to pause. Terrified that Venom was beginning to suspect something, Peter brought his saucer-sized, teary eyes back to the larger man, "I won't resist if it's Eddie…"
Venom remained motionless, making the whole room still, only a slight breeze moved through the musky air. Peter was starting to worry his plan backfired, feeling his fake tears quickly turn into real ones. Then, the Venom mask peeled away in strips; tan skin, strong square jaw, blond strands faintly shining in the night—all exposed in its Assyrian glory. The face of Eddie Brock. "Eddie…" Peter gasped, suddenly overwhelmed with hope, "Eddie!" Peter began squirming in the symbiote's hold, pulling at his restraints. Eddie shifted his position, and without warning, Peter was falling into the expansive chest. They were chest-to-chest, Peter's shredded nightshirt fluttering at the movement, his hands free at last. The loss of the symbiote had his skin cold despite the humid temperature, and each finger was tingling, trying to wake up. A moment passed where the rise and fall of such a powerful chest was soft and even, lulling the fatigued Peter into a strange comfort. The brunet gingerly placed his numb hands against the pectorals he was leaning on, looking up at the face of a forgotten friend. "Eddie… Please, stop this. Don't do this to me… You can't want this," he pleaded softly, tired. Eddie raised his arms, clasping with an iron grip on Peter's shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Pete, but you see," he murmured, tilting down his head to meet Peter's mouth with a lingering kiss that tasted like copper, "The symbiote can't make you do anything you don't want to do." The words were low, rumbling, and invaded all of Peter's senses. Eddie was pushing them both back onto the bed, skewing the damp sheets, and letting his hands create a scorching trail down, down, down, fingers playfully circling the superhero's navel. The muscles under the skin jumped, and Peter whimpered in a barely audible breath. Instantly, he was crawling up his pillows, but lost his balance, hitting his skull against the headboard, which stung instantly. "Ah, ah, ah!" Eddie reached out, dragging the youth back in his dazed moment, the symbiotic tentacles leaping at the chance to snake and twist over the weakened body of the superhero. "You promised to be good. Are you going to keep your word or do we have to harm you?"
"I don't want this!" came the frantic bark of a man who knew he had no hope. Eddie's icy eyes narrowed. A distressed sound left Peter as a palm, heady and solid, massaged his package. The worn cloth was chafing him, creating an intense dizzying sensation. He bent over, sternly gripping the muscled arm that was tormenting him. "N-No… Stop! Uuh—nngh!" He was panting, mouth parting open as his lids fluttered to half-mast. "I-I said… ah—ahh! N-Nooo! I don't want thi-this…"
"Then why are you making such sexy noises? Hmmm?" Eddie whispered with excited breath right into Peter's ear, fingers continuing to rub against the growing bulge.
"W-What? Do you l-like them? Uh—Ah!" he quipped, but had to quickly bite his lip to stop the flood of whimpers, moans, and gasps as Eddie played with him at a faster rate. The villain seemed displeased, and squeezed firmly. Flesh and clothe practically melding in the primal hold. Peter threw back his head, clapping both hands over his mouth to keep the scream at bay. If Eddie was going to play dirty, Peter would match it… he wasn't going to make a peep. Yet, it was difficult. In the heat, in the pulsating of the symbiote surrounding him, in the heaving of Eddie's chest, in the merciless strokes of talented claws, Peter could feel himself quickly losing control.
"Come little spider, come…" the black creature over him urged, voice a fervent growl. Peter shook his head, fingers twitching against his mouth in the effort to stay silent. A particular stroke along the underside of his penis jolted Peter with turbulent waves of pleasure running along his spine, and he arched high, inky strands stretching and constricting over the trembling body. Eddie was staring down, admiring openly. "Stubborn…! Why not enjoy it? You can't stop us. We're going to play with you aaall night." To accentuate his point, the blond released the hold on Peter in favor of raking his talons up Peter's thighs and coming to a halt at his narrow hips. Those large, animalistic hands were tense, curling into the loose fabric, rending it. Gulping, the brunet was waiting, uncertain of the next attack, but Eddie was being slow, barely tugging the clothing at all. He seemed to be in a trace, eyes fixated upon the peeking skin. At the first sign of the treasure trail, his pupils dilated in a hungry explosion, stare growing fiercer. Peter was mortified when he realized the man above him was relishing undressing him. It was even more embarrassing when his cock twitched as the waistband chaffed over the head. Then released to the open night air, precum dribbled like a string of pearls, and Peter could have sighed, feeling tingles travel all the way from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. Instead, his hands flew down; finger's spreading and knees bending to cover his shame. Eddie finished his task by roughly tossing the troublesome pants behind him, and straightened, figure blotting out the moonbeams flittering through the dust-ridden window.
Behind the silhouette, a broad shadow was growing, bubbling up from the darkness. The shadow split itself down the middle, cresting like an ocean wave before cleanly breaking apart. It took Peter a mere second before he understood what he was seeing. Suddenly, the two tentacles launched downwards over the villain's head, effectively trapping Peter. He tried to evade it, but wasn't quick enough. He rolled on his side, missing one, but the other caught him about the throat. A choked gasp left him and he dug his fingers into the bulky appendage, fruitlessly yanking, but the second tentacle shot out of the dark once more, ensnaring Peter's hands in the tar-like mess of the symbiote. The limbs jerked him upwards onto his knees before Eddie's massive form. Peter was reeling, oxygen struggling to find its way to the hero's lungs. He did his best, lifting his chin, but the symbiote was excited, rippling, humming, tightening on his windpipe. A tiny slip of balmy air would sneak in, only to be held captive, burning in his chest. His knees pushed as hard as they could into the bedsprings, body desiring to break away from the masses encircling his neck, side-winding down his torso and breaking off, while tiny ones latched on to his naked flesh. "E-Eh—!" Peter couldn't speak, and his vision was blurring.
"Yessssss…?" Eddie shifted nearer, claws wandering where the symbiote did not. Peter was shaking erratically now, and there was no telling what the true cause was. His mouth moved, yet no words would come. Eddie mock frowned, and with a tilt of his head, the symbiote loosened for a moment, Peter immediately taking in some blessed air, when in mid-breath, the limbs reformed about his throat. Tricky bastard! He frantically began pulling back, so the tentacles heaved him higher, the tops of his feet scuffing across the mattress. Eddie encircled his arms about Peter's waist, and dipped his head down to nuzzle the expanse of smooth skin between navel and genitals. "You didn't want to make noises… We're just making it easier for you…" he breathed across the flesh. His lips were ghosting the side of Peter's organ, following a vein. A wet tongue slid down his rigid flesh, and the youth's mouth parted, crying out silently. Eddie's eyes darted up, and he was smirking widely. Peter couldn't fight anymore, his body feeling too heavy, weighed down, and no matter what he did there was no breath to be found. White spots danced behind his closed lids like a chaotic ballet. Then, a sensation of something searing and moist encompassed his cock with no warning, making him thrash his head in ecstasy, and swiftly the symbiote was pooling about his shoulders. Noises caught between sobs, deep panting, and mewls of excitement tumbled from his mouth as he attempted to regain his senses.
Eddie was holding him, impossibly strong arms keeping him in the air, but Peter was bending forward as pleasure ran rampant in him. His hands mostly became unstuck from the ropey things moving across his chest, his palms landing flat on the broad backside. Eddie leaned in more, engulfing Peter whole, and letting his tongue deftly tease the aching member. Just when the spider was on the verge of relief, his nemesis would draw back, breaking to hear the aggravated whimpers and enjoy the nails cutting into the symbiotic suit in a way that must have been erotic only to the torturer. "W-Why?" Peter cried into the night, he had lost count of the times Eddie refused to release him, "Please just… hah—ah! Just finish me off!"
The larger man returned to his game with a frustrated moan from Peter. His head drooped, arms quaking, trying to hold him up-right. This instance, he swallowed his sounds, praying that the blond wouldn't figure out how close Peter was to climaxing. The talons gripping his hips pressed harshly, bruises welling up, making Peter whine, mouth opening. He was trying to breath evenly, to stay quiet. Saliva collected at the tip of his pink tongue. It dropped on his bottom lip, rolling off the plump flesh and bringing to life a strand of symbiote. They seemed to be thriving everywhere around the pair as if they were caught in a web, knotting together, branching off, and then writhing in the heat of the evening. It shuddered, swaying upwards like it was intoxicated. Peter warily observed with glazed eyes. He let out a sharp cry as Eddie's teeth bumped against the sensitive shaft. The symbiote, swelling at the noise, brushed over the lips. The brunet turned his head away. The black strand swiped over the bottom lip, this time with extra pressure. "No," Peter said, breathy. It felt only the breath, and swept across his cheek. Peter pressed his mouth together, but the symbiote was insistent, squirming its way in between tender lips, and happily exploring every crevice of the orifice.
Taken aback, Peter sprang up, chomping down on the uninvited creature. Immediately, Eddie reared, hissing, and Peter toppled on to his back. The wind was knocked out of him, despite landing across soft sheets. He tried to spin over, but was entangled in the filaments, and braids, and strings of the inky symbiote. The best he could do was angle his head sideways to spit out the offending thing. "No means no, Eddie…" he warned. "Now, stop t-this. I'm not gonna be nice anymore—"
Eddie snorted, hand abruptly descending, and Peter flinched, expecting to be struck. "Really? You're not going to be nice? Then we won't be nice anymore, either…" the dark voice was taunting. Eddie shoved off the bed, a claw coming into to view with a wriggling piece of the symbiote in his palm. Peter gasped as it managed to worm its way towards the talons. The piece blended into the digits, but still bulged, undulating, and then gathered thin strands out of the abyss of the suit. Fondly, Eddie smiled, and turned the smile to Peter, his features flashing. The tentacles covering him contracted, and Peter let out a startled yelp as he was flipped over, his cheek pressed into the bed. His arms were bound, wedged under his chest, the sticky symbiotic cords, and the mattress, but he was on his knees, propping his backside up. The other tentacles were wrapping around his thighs, pushing his legs farther apart, some whipping up, cupping his round, firm buttocks. Peter was frozen in the position, and his mind panicked at his vulnerability in the scenario. His brain blanked, and he couldn't find words to protest what was going on. Not only that, but he quickly became aware that he could no longer see what Eddie was doing. Peter whimpered when something too hot traced the cleft of his ass, then bit his lip when he realized he was close to weeping. "So fuckable…"
"Haaaa—!" Peter was shocked into movement when the symbiote drove itself between his cheeks, and licked around the edge of his entrance. It shouldn't have felt delightful, but the superhero shivered, unconsciously sinking into his knees, and opening himself further to Eddie. The villain was more than pleased; he was down right giddy, claw hovering centimeters above the luscious piece of flesh. Peter was practically begging to be taken roughly, quivering like he was, and vocalizing himself like a dirty little spider. Steadying himself, Eddie breathed in deeply, cutting short the teasing of the thread of symbiote. It plunged inside Peter, no bigger than a finger. The brunet hadn't expected it, and rocked forward, trying to get away. The symbiote merely lengthened itself, barreling in deeper. "E-Eddie! Venom! N-Nah!" The thread swelled to a thicker size, stretching Peter from the inside. It was pushing against his muscles, flowing like a current, vibrating slightly. The sensations were acute, sending flashes of paradise straight to his groin, and more seed was dripping from his neglected manhood. The symbiote was withdrawing, and Peter bucked backwards, body craving something hot, pulsing, and thick deep inside of him. Chuckling, Eddie's hand reached down between Peter's legs, and stroked his cock, making the poor hero moan loudly, the sound of sweating flesh sliding over more flesh echoed in Peter's ears. Once the blond had enough of the white fluids coating his talons, he slathered it over his own engorged member. Eddie grasped Peter's waist, aligning his cock to the blissfully abused entrance of the smaller male.
"Ready, our spider?" he asked, voice gravelly. Peter closed his eyes, turning his face forward, his forehead resting against the mattress.
"Do I have a choice?" he inquired. He could feel the tip of Eddie's penis already eagerly nudging its way inside him. There was a smirk on the villain, looking down at the scene before him. Peter Parker, they're Spiderman, stripped bare and presenting like a creature in heat, face flushed and whole being excited by the simple touch of a claw here or there, humiliated and keening wantonly. They had waited too long to do this.
"No," he answered, and thrust inside. Peter let out a sharp cry, blinking back tears as he felt his inner walls rip. He felt something slick and fluid-like travel down the inside of his legs. By the metallic tang in the air, he was quite sure it was blood. Eddie wasn't moving, just perched over the brunet's body, huffing. With a groan of exhilaration, he straightened himself, and Peter could scarcely make out the size of the man inside him with the flares of agony from being filled and stretched.
"Ed-Eddie… you're t-too big," Peter was weeping now, "I-I don't—I can't take it…!"
"You're tight, little spider," he moaned, talons scratching Peter's sides. He tipped back, unsheathing himself from Peter, whose protests turned to wails when Eddie slammed back in to the hilt. "Can you feel us, little spider? Feel us take you…" he murmured, pulling back, "…every bit of you…" and ramming in again, "…as our own…"
"Please!" Peter lost his breath, the friction of the solid organ pounding into him like the beat of a metronome. He buried his face into the blankets, smelling cotton, the mountain breeze, and sex. Cruelly, Eddie dove into Peter; steady, enjoying the feeling of the spasm of muscles around his organ. Peter's chest was forced across the disarray of the sheets and mattress, sensitized nipples being rubbed raw. The tentacles swathed around him were surging against him. One wriggled down his chest and looped around the base of his cock, and pumping him. His hips moved of their own accord, lifting and falling, building a rhythm with the other man. Faster than expected, the pain was receding, replaced by a growing tempo and strangled sounds of resistance. "Eh-Eddie, I don—don't… oh! Oohh-oh, n-no!" Somehow, the angle was changed, and Eddie hit the bundle of nerve endings inside Peter. He made the most stimulating sound that the blond man had ever heard.
"Cry for us again," he demanded gruffly, thrusting into Peter, spraying flecks of precum and blood over Peter's unblemished backside. Peter shook his head, hiding himself in the safety of ruined blankets. In a swift move, Eddie brought his muscled arm around Peter's chest and hauled him up, pummeling deeper and deeper. Too far gone, Peter openly cried out in deviant and perverted gratification, bringing up his bound hands to cling into the forearm across his chest. The arm's claw was digging into Peter's shoulder, pressing his back flush against Eddie's chest, the heat clouding both the males' minds. Another tentacle glided up the hero's body, and touched Peter's mouth. Eddie was breathing irregularly in his ear, creating trembles to ricochet through Peter, all the while being ruthlessly fucked.
As a piercing moan left Peter's lips, the tentacle shoved inside. He whimpered around it, swallowing as saliva threatened to leak from the corner of his mouth. Eddie made a thrilled sound, and the symbiotic limb massaged along Peter's tongue, entwining and pulling. Sloppily, Peter ran his tongue over the inky mass, ignoring the slight oily taste and how it throbbed in response. He sucked at it, breathing in quick pants every time it bobbed in and out between his lips. Beads of perspiration made his mahogany bangs stick to the side of his face and roll down the nape of his neck. Eddie switched the speed to something slower, driving further inside Peter than before, spreading his legs more, and hitting the sweet spot along the way. The smaller man broke contact with the symbiote, tossing his head back and bowing in a perfect curve, sweetly gifting Eddie with that noise he so desired.
"We're close, spider," Eddie rumbled, the tip of his nose brushing over the top of Peter's head, the short locks ruffling as he took in the scent of musk and soap. The villain's talented cock struck those nerves again and again, until Peter was lost in absolute rapture. His nails ran down the arm holding him hard, shedding part of the symbiote suit and leaving marks on Eddie Brock's actual skin. The man hissed in elation, stiffening, then redoubled his efforts to loosen Peter's amazing tongue. It didn't take long for the over-stimulated Peter to scream out, his inner muscles clenching, and every cell in his entire system to fire off bursts of white-hot pleasure. Finally, he arched one last time, and the warm seed spilled from him, drenching the tentacle still caressing him. Eddie, on the other hand, had continued to push through the tight ring of spasming walls, until the friction was too much. He came violently, crushing Peter closer, and moaning full of breath into the brunet's ear, "Our spider…"
In the aftermath, Peter was stunned, unable to utter anything, much less move. Eddie had yet to relinquish his grip on the superhero. The white fluids and congealed blood were trickling out of Peter, and he felt the burn of torn flesh, but imagined he was paralyzed. Soon, his lower half was indeed numbing. He wished to remain where he was, too alarmed by all that had transpired to breakaway. Unfortunately, Eddie shifted; his arm unexpectedly disappearing, appendage slipping out of Peter, which elicited a noise complaint. Even the tentacles were slithering into the night behind him. The brunet was left teetering on his own. Spent, he collapsed, landing on his side amidst the remains of destroyed clothes and stained bed sheets. "E-Eddie…?"
"We marked you," the voice was back as the guttural Venom. Peter couldn't see though, his lids were closing fast, eyesight hazing. The world was growing as dark as the shadowy symbiote. "You can never be with anyone else… because you will be reminded of us. Of how we claimed you so easily. No matter where you go now, we shall always be with you—in the back of your mind. Forever."
There was a soft feeling of something nestling along the smooth column of neck, and a biting pain, and then Peter vanished from the conscious world to dreamless oblivion where ominous, white eyes watched him.
"You cannot escape us now, little spider…"