Stay - dqiliac - Metal Gear (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Venom couldn’t think of anything to say. Not that he didn’t have anything to say, but everything that popped into his head didn’t sound quite right, so he kept his thoughts to himself. Kaz noticed this, and despite his insistence on getting the basic, raw truth out, he asked a lot of leading questions. To be wholly fair, he did that with everyone. Whether he aims to please himself by drawing out what he wants to hear, or to torture himself by trying to goad out what he thinks someone will say, Venom isn’t sure.

There are times when Kaz sits in silence with him, but the XO is always doing something; he’s always absorbed in a task, or bouncing his leg, or messing with something. Venom hasn’t seen him sit completely still, but he does go quiet. Venom likes to be in his space— there was a time when he’d come up with problems just to ask Kaz about, but then he realized that might not be the best move when the man was already stressed out of his mind. So, one day he just came in and sat down, and Kaz didn’t stop him. He gave him a look and asked why he was there, but after getting a shrug in response, he let it go.

It’s like that, now— Venom’s back on base with no immediate responsibilities, so he did his rounds and visited Kaz. He sits in one of the often unoccupied chairs opposite Kaz’s desk, slouching and looking down at his hands, fiddling with his prosthetic. He’s quiet. There is something on his mind— there’s never not— but he can’t find the words to explain without sounding beside himself. Kaz is working, chipping at the massive stack of paper on his desk, but occasionally, his eyes would drift from some boring budgeting over to his superior. He would watch Venom’s hands for a second, then cast his glance down, quietly clear his throat, and continue working.

Kaz is tactile. He doesn’t say it out loud, but anyone close enough to him can recognize it. Even then, any outsider with a good eye could catch on. Earlier in his life, he satiated it sexually; with his looks, charm, and general attitude, it was easy to trade favors and shuck his pants off for quickies with people he barely knew. Less would have been enough, really— his libido was never truly that high— but he was compensating for other categories. He craved kinder touch, affections that stemmed from care and love, not lust. But he didn’t get much of that. So he f*cked a lot, tried to catch flashes when the other person held him a little softer or stroked his skin mid-f*ck. When they shifted him with gentle hands or spent a second caught in his eyes. But he didn’t get around like that anymore.

He had stumbled into the infirmary a lot, too, bitching and moaning about injuries he could fix himself, just so someone would handle him with care. It obviously annoyed the team, but he would get cleaned up nice. Though he hated injuries to his face, there was something particular about the way a medic would gently grasp his jaw so he would stop squirming while they cleaned out his eyebrow or something. That was nice. But after coming back from capture, he wasn’t so keen on having hands all over him. The medical staff were nice enough, but he couldn’t handle feeling exposed. He didn’t want them to look at him, perceive what had been done and taken, much less poke and prod. It reached a point where his wounds almost got a gnarly infection before Ocelot nipped and nagged him until he accepted help.

He tells himself that he’s all better now and that the residual pain and the burning at nonexistent distal ends are just a reminder of how he allowed himself to be debased. He still retains basic cravings, the need to feel warm skin against his own, to be held, to be recognized— yet he didn’t allow himself to indulge. It was more difficult than imagined because the thought that everyone would back away from him and aid in the withdrawal wasn’t entirely true. Sure, nearly all the soldiers on base now avoided him like the plague, tiptoeing around him like he would set off if they came too close. And Ocelot is, well, Ocelot, so he recognizes it in a way, and whether it’s to be helpful or to be a bitch (Kaz knows it can’t be much of anything but the latter), he backs off.

But Venom stays close to him. Only inches separate them when they talk; Venom stands close enough to his side for their shoulders to touch; he grips Kaz’s arm in a supportive hold when Kaz leans a little to the left, acting as a sturdier, warmer crutch. And Kaz can’t find it in himself to pull away. He migrates towards the man’s side. It’s reflexive to peer over his shoulder and hold his forearm, to lean against him and cushion up even when there’s ample room. He wants more, to have Venom’s hands all over his body, but he doesn’t have the balls to ruin the small exchanges by proposing something intimate.

Venom gets up. Kaz can’t help but break into a little frown when he hears the creak of the chair, gripping his pen tighter, because he assumes he’s just leaving. But the heavy footsteps draw closer, not further, and Kaz doesn’t have the time to look up and react before there’s a large, warm hand right in the middle of his back. He straightens at the touch, and Venom presses, sliding his palm down and then back up in a slow drag. Kaz didn’t adorn his usual layers— just a t-shirt and some joggers, because it was too hot and he was already too pissed off when waking up to put himself through all the trouble, and no one was really going to tell him he looked unprofessional— so he could feel the touch even more than usual. A shiver slithers its way down his spine, settling in his hips.

“Relax,” Venom says, and his voice is so calm and soft but still so gritty, the way Kaz imagines he’d sound first thing in the morning. He’ll need to check that theory one day. “Take a break.”

Kaz sneers, “Don’t need one.”

There’s a soft hum, and the gentle motions on his back don’t stop. Kaz wants to melt into it and forget about all the repetitive documents sprawled out before him. Even though he needs a break— his head is starting to hurt, his wrist is cramping from writing with his non-dominant hand for so long, and he’s just tired— he tries to think through it, repeat something in his head until he justifies working more. But the ultimate truth is that he was gone the moment Venom stepped into the room. Because at the end of the day, it’s him.

Kaz gives up, allowing himself to lean back into the caresses, closing the folder in front of him and pushing it aside; he hears a soft breath of relief from Venom. The tension slips from his shoulders.

“What was that about not needing a break?” Venom hums, his voice all honeyed.

Kaz scoffs and glances up, meeting Venom’s warm gaze. Venom is already leaning down, subconsciously gravitating towards him, finding it natural to be close. Kaz finds himself acting before he can think— a moment’s hesitation is all his willpower can muster before he’s tugging the man down by his gear, closing the last bit of distance and sealing their mouths together. Venom sighs blissfully against his lips, pressing into the kiss.

It’s overwhelmingly gentle, to a point where Kaz thinks he might crumble and die. When they break away, Venom just kisses affectionately along his jaw, mapping the sharp curve with his lips. Kaz slides his hand into Venom’s hair, gliding his nails across his scalp. Venom’s breath hitches and he nips the side of Kaz’s neck.

“Ow,” Kaz murmurs, noting the reaction. He starts slowly scratching Venom’s scalp like he would a dog behind the ear— and Venom leans into it, making a soft, pleasured noise at the sensation.

“Noted,” mumbles Kaz, gently tugging the tie out of Venom’s hair, letting the small ponytail fall apart. He tosses the elastic band onto his desk and runs his fingers through his strands, gently combing out little knots so his hand can tangle in the mess freely. Venom allows it, melty against him, still peppering kisses along his neck. The sight is hotter than he’d like to admit, and the attention to his pulse point isn’t helping.

“Alright, come on,” Kaz huffs, because he’d rather get this show on the road before he starts squirming in his chair. He slides his hand to Venom’s shoulder for support, pushing to get up. Venom immediately grabs his elbow, helping him stand, letting Kaz use him as a crutch on the short walk to the bed.

As soon as they sit down on the edge, they tear away from each other to spend time stripping, figuring it’d be much easier to take a moment than try to do it in the heat of the moment. They leap back onto each other as soon as it’s feasible. Clement and affectionate kisses turn sloppy with need. Kaz climbs halfway into Venom’s lap, settling on one of his thighs. Kaz left himself in only his shirt and shades, finding it fit to remove everything but— he would’ve taken the shirt off, too, but he doesn’t have the body he used to. Kaz tugs at the waistband of Venom’s pants, and Venom pushes them and his boxers down, kicking the garments off without another word.

Venom lets Kaz guide him, only putting his hands where he’s told. Kaz guides Venom’s flesh hand between his legs, dipping his head to kiss the man’s neck. Venom can’t help but let out a low groan at how wet Kaz already is, riled up from just a little kissing— but Venom doesn’t give himself that much credit. He knows Kaz is out of practice. He explores conservatively, gently gliding the pads of his fingers along Kaz’s heat, from his slick entrance up to his swollen dick. He feels the small jump that Kaz gives at the attention, so Venom starts there, slow and careful.

Moving like this with Kaz feels more natural than conversation. Anything physical does. It’s as if their bodies know each other better than their minds, as if their hearts trust more than their brains. It’s a confusing codependence, at times, but it feels so nice when neither of them thinks and all they do is act.

Kaz spits into his palm, reaching down to wrap his hand around Venom’s hardening co*ck. He gives a few long, loose strokes to feel him fill out, then tightens his hand and starts a liberal rhythm. He nips at the sweet spot right behind Venom’s ear, grinding down onto his fingers— Venom rewards him the way he requests, pressing his middle finger to Kaz’s hole. He gives a gentle caress before dipping it inside, letting out a huff at how hot Kaz’s insides are.

He kisses the arc of Kaz’s bad shoulder, even through the fabric, and hums at the soft shudder it draws from the man above him. Kaz opens up quickly, relaxing against the pressure inside of him. He mutters an order for another, and Venom’s rhythm doesn’t falter as he pushes a second digit in.

He curls his fingers, dragging them in and out, the practice feeling akin to muscle memory. He listens intently to the way Kaz reacts at every angle, mapping him out by sound— he’ll let out a little breath when Venom scissors his fingers, or a grunt when Venom digs his fingertips into his g-spot. He reads Kaz like a goddamn book.

“Out,” Kaz commands with a huff, and Venom obliges, sliding his fingers out. He can’t help but stare in awe for a moment at the glistening string of fluid that connects them before it breaks. Kaz settles against his thigh, sitting down to take pressure off his legs— Venom feels the wetness against his skin, and he can’t help but grunt at how hot that is. He keeps his hands on Kaz’s waist, though his fingers dig in a bit.

Kaz returns his full attention to Venom’s co*ck, sliding his hand up and down his shaft. He squeezes a bit harder on each upstroke, wringing the precum out of his co*ck, collecting the bead at the head with his thumb before spreading it over the rest to make the slide sweeter. Every time Venom lets out a noise or tenses, he’ll slow on the downstroke and settle his hand around the base until Venom relaxes again. Though it feels fantastic, it’s torture, because Venom would give anything to be inside of Kaz instead.

“Mm– stop teasing,” Venom mutters, voicing his need with words for once. He squeezes Kaz’s waist and kisses the corner of his jaw. “Want it.”

Kaz lets out an amused huff, the shell of a laugh.

“You can just take it,” he goads, leading. It’s like a test, and even though Venom’s brain is cooking in his skull from how hot he feels, he recognizes it. Kaz is asking him to take matters into his more than capable hands, stop the teasing right there and chase his own pleasure. But there’s no room in his consciousness for selfish thoughts; his head swims solely with the way Kaz’s lips feel on his skin, the way his weight feels on his body, the specific but muted way he smells.

Venom glides his hands up Kaz’s sides, feeling his softened form beneath the fabric of his shirt. He’d filled out in recovery, back to eating enough but lacking the action that burned his calories away. He’s conscious about it, in a way, but Venom enjoys feeling substance under Kaz’s skin. He felt Kaz’s ribs when he first rescued him, and now every time his fingertips glide over his torso, he checks to ensure the bones aren’t as prominent.

He tries to think of something to say. He’s not so concerned about sounding right anymore, but his brain is so foggy from arousal that he can’t think beyond want. He mouths over the side of Kaz’s neck, kissing the warm skin where he can reach.

“Want you,” he whispers, finding nothing else to voice but a soft whimper. Kaz nearly stills, as if he wasn’t expecting such a subdued and sweet response to an offer of that caliber. He shudders at the feeling of Venom’s teeth grazing his neck and instinctively tilts his head to offer up more ground. Kaz swallows and pushes Venom onto his back with a soft nudge.

He fully straddles him, now, setting his hips down against Venom’s. He grinds against Venom’s erection, forcing himself to go slow, to lug it out. Venom whines, a beautiful sound from his chest, something of pure appetite. He doesn’t have to say a word— Kaz knows he needs it.

“Mhm?” he mutters, tilting forward so they’re nose-to-nose. He brushes their lips together, muttering against Venom’s mouth. His voice is low, sultry in a way that only reveals itself when layers of stress are melted away. “Ask nicely.”

Venom lets out a small noise that sounds like a mixture of a whimper and a groan, quiet but guttural. He felt as if his spine had just gone molten when Kaz spoke, his hands gently gripping at the man’s thighs again as he swallowed thickly.

“Please,” he mutters breathlessly, his hips shifting up again in a pathetic excuse for a thrust. His breath hitches from the slight friction, a much-needed gasp of air getting stuck in his throat, as his body found it more necessary to moan than to breathe. He would much rather suffocate under Kaz than let him think for a moment that he wasn’t enthralled by every little touch they shared. “Please, Kaz, just… please.”

Kaz isn’t as patient as he pretends to be, and the way Venom whines for it like a dog runs his patience even thinner. He gives in. He presses his forehead to Venom’s shoulder, leaning his weight forward and lifting his hips for leverage. He could just as easily sit up to do it, or have Venom do it for him, but he wants to be close, to control every movement. He reaches down between their sweat-slick stomachs, closing his hand around Venom’s co*ck to hold it steady. He listens intently to the little noises of the man beneath him as he grinds against the tip, enjoying the dull sensation before he lines it up. He presses until the fat head of Venom’s dick pops inside, stalling with a shuddery moan to catch his breath. Venom’s strangled sound doesn’t go unnoticed, and neither does the way he tightens his grip on Kaz’s hips.

Kaz sinks down about halfway before he stops again. With a shaky hand on Venom’s chest, he pushes himself up so his weight is back on his legs. His breath catches as he sees the enamored expression on Venom’s face; he’s looking up at Kaz like he strung the constellations himself. His skin is so beautifully flushed, spit-slick lips wet and parted as he pants. Kaz cups his face, feeling the heat radiate off his skin. As soon as he makes contact, Venom turns his face and kisses the center of Kaz’s palm, their gazes still locked. Kaz gapes for a second, before sliding his hand back into Venom’s hair. He skims his nails over the man’s scalp, listening to the soft whimper it pulls from his chest. He leans down, capturing Venom’s lips in a warm kiss before he pushes his hips back and takes him in full.

They moan into each other’s mouths, echoing, breathing each other in. Kaz nips Venom’s bottom lip, his hole fluttering as he adjusts to the intrusion. It’s nothing he hasn’t done before, but it’s been a while. He’s not so molded to it anymore. Venom’s thumbs caress the peaks of his hip bones, a soft, soothing motion— he’s about to ask if Kaz is okay, but the thought leaves his mind as Kaz lifts his hips a bit and sinks them back down. He repeats the motion, slowly, allowing his body to refamiliarize itself with the movements. He kisses Venom lazily, drinking down each small moan and whine from his throat.

He zeroes in on the feeling of Venom’s co*ck stretching him back out, sliding in and out nice and slow, working him open. It just feels… nice, to be so connected to him again, to feel more pleasure than pain. He keeps the languid pace until it’s just too little of a sensation.

With a steady hand on Venom’s chest, he pushes himself up to fully sit. He lets out a soft hiss as he feels Venom’s co*ck hit him deeper, his eyes fluttering, the feeling shooting a shiver through his body. He lifts his hips and sinks back down, then grinds forward and back, setting a controlled rhythm. Venom’s hands are secure on his hips, offering support where he needs it to keep up the pace.

Venom only draws his hands away for a moment, grasping Kaz’s shades. They’re already sliding down his nose, so Venom pulls them off completely. Kaz lets him, staring down, hips stalling for just a second.

“Just wanna see you,” Venom murmurs, the words simple. He sets the sunglasses down on the end table, returning his hands to where they fit on Kaz’s hips. Kaz feels his cheeks burn, and with a slow start, he resumes his motions.

He lets himself make noise, his lips parted, allowing sound to slip past as it comes. He doesn’t even think about stifling, allows himself to be selfish, allows Venom to hear what his dick does to him. Allows Venom to see him. He starts to slam down harder, chasing the feeling of being shaped around Venom’s co*ck.

“Ah– f*ck,” he whines, and the small expression of profanity catches Venom’s attention, because he hasn’t said a word thus far. Kaz meets his gaze, cloudy eyes half-lidded as he impales himself on Venom’s dick, moving faster, trying to get him deeper.

“Good?” Venom croaks out, watching Kaz move like a beacon of light from above. He had said that there was no room for angels in their heaven— but then what was Kaz, if not something divine? Kaz nods, the affirmation punctuated by a soft grunt.

“Yeah, good, so– perfect. You’re perfect,” he whimpers out, nodding again, his hips stuttering. His motions lose their flow, even as he clenches down, his body begging for more.

Kaz doesn’t like to be pinned, not so much anymore. He got a kick out of it once, of roughing around and ending up with his face shoved down and his legs kicking, or put on his back with a hand wrapped around his neck and knees to his chest. But things change. He liked to stay on top now, or just have some general range of motion, but it was difficult to stay up when he had to balance on one arm and one and a half legs.

Venom helped enough, guiding his hips up and down, but f*ck if Kaz wasn’t frustrated. His legs are aching from the motions, burning out of lack of exercise. He chews his bottom lip, letting out a bitter whine as the slow drag of Venom’s dick inside of him wasn’t nearly enough.

“Doing okay?” Venom asks in a soft mutter, kissing Kaz’s shoulder and gripping his hips just a bit tighter. Kaz admits his fault for once, shaking his head with a grunt. Venom murmurs a soft series of ‘alright’s and ‘okay’s, shifting to secure his arm around Kaz’s waist. He knows Kaz doesn’t like to be put on his back much, so he comes up with a compromise. He turns, rolling both of them onto their sides. He draws Kaz close by the arm around his middle, sliding his other hand to the back of Kaz’s thigh, lifting his leg just enough to get a good angle. He experimentally thrusts, and Kaz melts at the action, letting out a soft keen and dragging his dull nails down Venom’s chest.

Kaz buries his face in the crook of Venom’s neck, moving impossibly closer as he’s cradled. He doesn’t stifle his noises, moaning openly against Venom’s skin with each thrust. He wraps his arm around Venom’s neck, hand finding home buried in his hair. He tugs just a bit harder every time Venom hits that spot inside of him, so Venom angles his hips and nails it.

Kaz pants out a series of strained pleads against Venom’s neck, feeling his org*sm curl up in his core. It’s right there, he’s right there. Venom shifts his grip on Kaz’s thigh, using his thumb to spread him further open, watching his co*ck slide in and out of Kaz’s slick hole. That one move throws Kaz over the edge. He clenches down hard, a shudder running through his whole body. He digs his nails into Venom’s scalp, moaning and whining so loudly into the crook of Venom’s neck as he c*ms untouched.

Venom f*cks him through it, granting him some grace and giving soft strokes to his dick as he comes down from it. Kaz melts, his thighs shaking a bit and his hips twitching as Venom continues to f*ck into him. He can feel his own climax building, his gut tightening. Kaz tugs, pulling Venom’s hair hard.

“Inside, come on,” Kaz whispers, his voice gorgeously hoarse and breathless, “fill me up.”

Venom’s hips snap forward, and he only has one, two thrusts left in him before he’s releasing inside Kaz, holding their hips together with a rough grip. He grinds through it, his mouth hanging open, all sound dying in his throat. He can hear Kaz whimper as he paints his insides. Even as he comes down from the high, he holds Kaz tight against him, keeping their hips plastered together, and Kaz presses into it. Neither one of them wants to waste a drop.

Kaz pets his hair, turning to press a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Good boy,” he says with a soft huff. Venom grunts, rolling over onto his back and pulling Kaz on top of him. Kaz rests on him like a big cat, eyes closed and cheek smushed against his shoulder. Venom shifts to pull out, but as soon as his hips move a fraction of a centimeter, Kaz grabs his ear and pulls.

“Stay,” he mutters, voice tired but stern. So Venom stays.