Symbiote Madness (Venom One Shots)

46 Riot and drake again!

Every living organism has a sex drive. It’s just a known fact.

But Carlton Drake didn’t know it would be this much.

Ever since binding with the Riot symbiote it’s been constant. Drake doesn’t know if symbiotes go into heat or if this is just how they are or even if Riot hasn’t gotten any in a while and is frustrated, but the heat in his gut hasn’t left him once.

At first, he ignores it. He has an image to maintain and he can’t be running off to the bathroom every so often to rub one out, he knows this.

It’s ok at first because Riot is silent. The symbiote hasn’t said a word to him, which is probably for the better. Riot’s voice is deep and husky and rough and he needs to stop thinking about it right now before his already bad situation gets worse. He has business to do.

Carlton Drake loves his work, but when it comes time to leave he finds himself being one of the first out the door. It’s not even completely him doing it, there’s another force bending his legs and making him move forwards. He knows exactly who, or what, is behind it.

Riot.

Yes?

After going so long without it, hearing Riot’s voice straight out of nowhere makes him jump and he swerves, narrowly avoiding disaster.

Riot laughs and Drake doesn’t know if it’s because he startled him or if it’s because he watched the man struggle to hide just how horny he was all day.

We like watching you struggle.

It shouldn’t be hot but it is, and dammit if he dies from a car crash he’s going to kill his symbiote.

Yours?

Fuck. Shit. He didn’t mean to think that.

We like being called yours.

Drake can’t help it, he moans, and he can feel the cold, gooey form that is Riot slowly creep towards his waistband.

“I’m trying to drive,” he reminds Riot.

Don’t care.

Of course it doesn’t.

Something wet and suction-y curls around his dick and he swerves again, just barely correcting himself this time.

“Can’t you wait until we get home?”

The amazing feeling enveloping his cock goes away and Drake immediately regrets it.

Lucky for him, his house isn’t too far, and he’s out of the car and into his home in no time, practically running because, fuck, he’s been so horny all day and now he needs release, craves it, please please please.

“Please.....”

All you had to do was ask.

And then Drake is brought to his knees as the undeniable feeling of Riot is around his cock again, claws literally ripping his clothes off, the shredded pieces of fabric floating to the floor like lazy snowflakes.

Alone in the privacy of his home he is not afraid to be as vocal as he pleases, crying out like a whore.

You are a whore. Our whore.

Drake doesn’t know if it’s the words or the voice, but either way he comes like a freight train all over the floor.

And he’s still horny.

Somehow, someway, he ends up in his bed, and Riot is everywhere all at once, coating Drake’s entire body in shimmering silver.

And it feels sensational.

He’s being squeezed, but not to hard, and not only is there something fucking into him, but something for him to fuck into. Drake doesn’t know exactly what Riot’s body is made of, but it tightens and sucks at his cock with each thrust.

Never in his life has Drake ever been this fucking loud. Probably because he’s never had sex like this either.

Be quiet or we will make you be quiet.

With Riot up his ass, milking his prostate like a fucking pro, Drake is so blindly turned on that the obvious threat sounds like a promise.

So, naturally, he gets louder.

Riot’s tongue comes slithering out of some place on Drake’s chest and has no problem shoving itself down his throat, since he had it wide open, tongue lolling out a bit, lost in everything the symbiote is doing to him.

He gags as it’s forced down deeper, coughing to try to clear his airway.

Just like everything else Riot is doing to him, Drake loves it, and he leans forwards to take more. Too far forwards, for he falls to the floor.

No longer on the bed, which can scuff the floor and dent the wall with its banging, Riot begins to fuck Drake harder.

It’s a filthy sight: Drake, covered in a moving silver substance, gagging on a giant drooling tongue so bad there are tears in his eyes, as he gets pounded into the floor.

It’s rough, and hard, and more like dirty hate fucking than anything else, and it hurts.

It’s everything Carlton Drake has ever wanted.

If he dies right here, tendrils of symbiote up his ass, choking to death on its massive tongue, then he can truly say he’d die happy.

More than happy, actually. He’s fucking ecstatic.

When he finally comes, hot and heavy into whatever part of Riot he had been jutting his hips into, he’s honestly surprised he lasted as long as he did.

Riot drags their tongue back out of Drake’s throat and he moans in protest.

We are glad we did not use the bed too much. We would have broken it.

Drake smiles and wipes the drool from his chin with the back of his hand.

“I’ve been meaning to get a new bed........” He begins.

You slut. Oh Drake likes that. You just want my tongue on you again.

Incredibly, he is still hard. “Yes I do,” he admits. “Very much so.”

Well then. Shall we break that bed you need to replace?

Drake doesn’t even have to reply because Riot has them on the bed in moments and this time his tongue, that amazing, blessed tongue, is going up his ass.

And as he loses himself in the way Riot works his body yet again, he knows for sure that bonding with the Riot symbiote is the best decision he has ever made.