They had moved into the bedroom first. Then the shower, the living room, the kitchen, and eventually over to Peter's place. Only after that did they finally collapse into sleep, completely spent from their intense lovemaking. Of course, neither of them would refer to it as such—they had simply fucked, and they had done it everywhere.
The morning after their first night together, they sat down at the big table to eat breakfast. Gwen was delighted to finally have a proper meal that included milk and fruit. Peter, on the other hand, grumbled about how granola and energy drinks were perfectly sufficient, but Gwen promptly hushed him.
"I've been thinking," Gwen said, her attention on the symbskin on her hands as she absentmindedly extended and retracted it. "It won't be perfect, but I think I can get us a microscope to figure out what this stuff actually is."
Peter bit his lip and winced slightly. "Wouldn't a microscope powerful enough be pretty expensive?" he asked, though he already suspected the answer. He still had some money left from the settlement, but it was earmarked for specific plans, and spending extra on something unexpected could throw everything off.
"Yeah, it'll cost us," Gwen admitted, flipping her phone around to show him the screen. The priciest model listed was three thousand dollars. The one she had her eye on could connect to a laptop for recording and offered a magnification of up to ten thousand times—more than enough to observe human cells, or hopefully, whatever it was they needed to examine.
"Pete, we need to figure out what these things are. They're clearly influencing us—our emotions, our physical capabilities, and probably a bunch of other systems too. We've both experienced mood swings, not to mention heightened aggression, reduced inhibitions, and... well, the rest." She paused, gripping her empty mug. "If I cut myself right now, it'd scab over and heal in minutes. I have to know what's going on. I have to know if this is dangerous."
And why it can talk to me, Gwen added silently, or if I'm just losing my mind.
Peter let out a long sigh. "Yeah, I get it. I just... I'm not sure I want to find out it's something awful, like super cancer or something."
Gwen burst out laughing. "Super cancer? Seriously, what the hell?"
Peter stuck out his tongue at her playfully. "Hey, when I got my powers, that was one of the first things I worried about," he admitted with a shrug.
"Super cancer? Oh my god, Pete, you're such a nerd," Gwen said, laughing so hard she shook. "Leave the science to me, okay? I promise we don't have super cancer."
Peter muttered under his breath, "Super cancer could be real," as he carried their mugs to the sink for later washing.
The dining table had become their go-to spot for meals. Peter had started converting one of the kitchen counters into a small workspace to create a bit of separation between the eating area and the living room.
The counter now had a sink—though it wasn't hooked up to the water supply—and a set of outlets that hadn't yet been connected to power. The project was still a work in progress, but now that Gwen and MJ had fully moved in, he intended to pick it back up.
As Gwen unwrapped a toaster pastry, she fixed Peter with a look. "Don't call me Gwenom. I hate it," she said flatly. The pastry wasn't frosted, which annoyed her, but it was all they had at the moment.
Even though they had stopped for snacks—and sometimes hadn't even bothered to stop—Gwen was already feeling hungry again. As she bit into the pastry, she wondered if the strange slime inside her was responsible for her insatiable appetite.
Sugar, sugar, yum, yum, a sing-song voice echoed in her mind.
Gwen turned her head slightly. Well, at least someone's enjoying it.
She vaguely remembered hearing the same voice yesterday, when she had "subdued" Peter. Was it really speaking to her in that bizarre, childlike tone?
"Uh, I kinda got a clue yesterday when you, you know, tried to rip my head off and eat it," Peter said cautiously.
Gwen smirked. She could still recall the primal, all-consuming rage—the overwhelming need to devour him. That hunger had only been quelled by an even stronger desire for him.
"So, uh, what should we call you then? Gwenom doesn't really work, especially if you don't want anyone to know it's you," Peter said, taking a bite of his granola bar. It had raisins, which Gwen turned her nose up at when he offered it. She had already claimed his last unfrosted blueberry pastry, but he wasn't going to hold it against her—for now.
Gwen leaned back, unable to come up with a name. "How did you decide on your alter ego's name?" she asked, staring wistfully at the empty wrapper and wishing there were more snacks.
If you make me fat, I'll kill you, she silently warned the creature inside her. She was pretty sure she had eaten enough for two days in just one night.
While munching on his granola bar, Peter suddenly sat upright, eyes wide. "Wait, I've got it!"
He dug through his bag and pulled out an old MP3 player. After scrolling through the menus, he found the song he wanted and handed her an earbud.
Your mouth, so hot
Your web, I'm caught
Your skin, so wet
Black lace, on sweat
I hear you calling, and it's needles and pins (and pins)
I wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name
Don't want to touch you, but you're under my skin (deep in)
I wanna kiss you, but your lips are venomous poison
You're poison, running through my veins
You're poison
I don't wanna break these chains
Poison
Gwen raised an eyebrow and pulled the device closer to see the artist. "Alice Cooper, huh? Trying to send me a message, Pete?" She grabbed his wrist, feeling his pulse quicken as he started to panic slightly.
Yes, yes, we like, we like, the voice chimed in her head.
Poison?
Yes, yes, us, us. Eat more sugar, yummy yummy, then more Pete. Do the wooshy woosh and the wibble wibble. We like them. Do them more.
No, Poison, I need to rest.
Hmph, Poison grumbled. How dull!
She was sore, and each orgasm had been more intense than the last. If she hadn't eventually passed out, they'd probably still be tangled up in Peter's shower.
"Uh, you know, it's a classic song and, uh, a good one, and, yeah. After you sort of tried to eat me and, well, then you literally ate me, mph—" Gwen cut him off with a kiss.
"Slow down, Petey pie. I'm just teasing. I like it. Venom and Poison, the deadly duo. But, um, about yesterday? I don't think either of us planned for things to go that far."
Peter slouched, his usual self-defeated expression surfacing as his mind spiraled into anxiety, convinced she was about to dump him.
"Hey, hey," Gwen said, striding over and sitting on his lap. "Don't look like that." She rested her head on his shoulder. "I wanted it, remember? I beat you fair and square and got my prize. So no moping—or no repeat." She cupped his face in her hands. "I love you, Peter Parker. I wanted you, and I wouldn't have chosen anyone else for my first time. Honestly, we were incredible. I rocked your world."
Peter leaned his forehead against hers. He knew the accident had heightened his emotions, and likely Gwen's as well. Transferring a part of himself to her must have amplified her feelings, too. Hearing her sincerity, Peter could tell she wasn't lying.
"I love you too, Gwen."
"See? That wasn't so hard. No mopey Pete and one happy Gwen. No fighting—just kisses and cooties," she joked, making exaggerated kissing sounds. They both laughed. "But seriously, what's with the weird skin thing and the web spray? And since when have you been Venom? My dad's been flipping out about him. Pete, you almost killed someone! And then—oh my god, Pete, that was you. You were fighting, and…" Gwen paused. "You fought those men. You got hurt. You—you almost killed us all, you idiot!" She smacked his shoulder, her voice rising in frustration.
Peter let her rant; there was no stopping her once she started.
"And, uh, Flash—no, screw Flash. You—you're Venom, and I'm, uh… shit, I'm an alien or something," she went on, barely pausing to breathe.
"So, what now? I've got powers. Does this mean I'm supposed to go around beating people up?" Gwen slumped back into her chair, massaging her temples. Peter followed and began rubbing her shoulders.
"No, you don't have to do anything, Gwen. These powers are part of you now, even if you don't use them. And, uh, yeah—sorry about the table."
Gwen nuzzled her cheek against his hand. "I forgive you. But honestly? I kind of like the powers. I feel strong and…" She blushed. "Super sexy. Like last night—all I wanted was some Pete meat. Oh god, we had sex, and I'm not on the pill. What the hell, Pete?" She laughed nervously.
Peter was stunned. In less than a minute, Gwen had shifted from angry to sad to flirtatious to amused. He figured his own emotional rollercoaster was probably just as wild. At least she hadn't destroyed someone's car with a stop sign.
"You, uh, wouldn't let go. I really didn't have a choice," Peter said, blushing. "It just felt too good, you know?"
"Uh-huh." Gwen shifted back onto his lap. "And how about we test if it's still as good?"
Peter slid his hands around her waist and kissed her as she leaned in. As soon as their lips met, the voice in her head returned.
More, more, Petey Pete. Yummy, yummy, it chanted, and Gwen felt a rush of arousal at his touch. For once, she and the voice agreed.
But this time, the lingering ache from their previous lovemaking made her pull back, shaking her head. "Sorry, Pete. Looks like I need a bit more time to recover."
He nodded as she climbed off his lap. Her healing didn't seem to work as fast as his. Though he still felt a little sore, the discomfort was already fading, and he was certain he could go for hours again.
Gwen huffed in frustration and grabbed her phone.
Seriously? You can heal wounds and brain injuries but not my sore cooch? she thought, but the voice offered no response.
She sighed, swiping idly at her phone screen. It lit up, and a cascade of notifications and vibrating alerts drowned out the silence. Gwen grimaced. She hoped her dad wasn't too mad—or worse, that he hadn't sent the entire police force after her.
"Sorry, Pete. I—I've got to go. Dad's flooded my inbox with voicemails and texts." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "We'll talk later, okay?" She grabbed her bag and headed toward the warehouse door. "Oh crap, I live here now," she muttered, running back to grab her new keys. She blew him a kiss as she left. "Be back later! I'll order the microscope, pick it up, and meet you here."
Peter shook his head with a chuckle as the door clicked shut.
With Gwen gone and MJ still at the hospital, Peter grabbed his phone.
Sorry, can't come to work today. I was in an accident.
He hated missing work, but there was no way he could go in—not while he still needed to help Gwen adjust.
No problem, kid. A few regulars from that bar called out too, so the place is closed today. Come in tomorrow.
At least Aleksei was understanding.
One issue resolved, Peter turned his thoughts to MJ. As he touched his cheek, he could still feel the warmth of Gwen's kiss lingering there.
He sighed, realizing she'd left him to clean up the warehouse. Wrappers littered the place, and Gwen's webbing clung stubbornly to the walls and floor. Unlike his own webs, hers didn't dissolve naturally.
Slumping his shoulders, Peter sent Aunt May a quick text:
Sorry for the delay. Gwen's fine. Just cleaning up. I'll visit in a few hours. Love, Peter.
With Gwen gone, Peter sipped his coffee, now cold and bitter.
He knew Venom was both a curse and a gift. He had grown accustomed to riding the emotional highs and lows it brought, channeling those feelings into his work and routines. But Gwen was new to this. If her emotional turbulence was anything like his, it would be a challenge to manage.
Still, he felt lighter than he had in a long time. With school behind him and the diner out of his life, it felt as if a constant weight had been lifted, allowing him to think clearly again.
As he drained the last of his coffee, Peter thought back to her words: Venom and Poison, the deadly duo. He smiled. Maybe he'd take her out hunting, let her vent on the criminals who dared disrupt his city. But first, she needed to learn better control—over both her powers and her emotions.
Glancing around the warehouse, Peter grabbed a mop and bucket. Wrappers were easy to toss, but Gwen's hardened webbing would take more effort to clean up.
At least the smell of bleach would mask the fact that they'd had sex everywhere. Other than MJ's apartment, there wasn't a single spot they hadn't christened—even the rafters.
They'd have to cut that out, especially with MJ coming back from the hospital soon. She definitely wouldn't appreciate the warehouse smelling like sex.
Peter also wanted to check on Aunt May. He had some errands to run and could take care of everything in one trip.