Weighted Blanket
If you'd told Eddie Brock a month ago that he'd be living with an alien parasite inside him—one that was obsessed with him, very clingy, and, as it turned out, very very gay for him—he’d have called you batshit crazy. Hell, he might’ve even filed a restraining order, just in case.
And yet, here he was. Lying on his couch, half-melted into the cushions, exhaustion pulling at every inch of him, and Venom surging through his body however he damn well pleased.
Black tendrils curled around his arms, tracing over his shoulders, winding up his neck. Some brushed over his cheek like a caress, others coiled around his waist like an overly enthusiastic pet snake. Every so often, a particularly amorous tendril would form into Venom’s toothy, wide-mouthed head just to nuzzle against his face. Eddie huffed. “You’re clingy tonight.”
“We are affectionate.” Venom’s voice was deep, vibrating inside Eddie’s ribs like a second heartbeat. The symbiote’s version of a whisper was about as subtle as a foghorn.
A large inky black head formed near Eddie’s shoulder, grinning at him, those huge alien eyes crinkling. Another tendril slithered up his chest and smushed against his cheek, an approximation of a wet, sloppy kiss. “You are warm.”
Eddie sighed, long and tired, but his lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smile. He was so exhausted—mentally, physically, probably even spiritually, if he believed in that shit—but there was something about Venom’s overwhelming presence that made it easier to just be. “Yeah, well, you’re heavy.” Eddie muttered, shifting a bit as Venom practically blanketed over him. “We are your weighted blanket.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “That’s not how that works.”
“Shhh.” A tendril tapped his lips. “Sleep, Eddie. We love you.” The words should’ve startled him. A month ago, they would’ve.
Now, they made his stomach twist—not in discomfort, but in something softer. Something terrifyingly close to fondness.
Venom, the massive, violent, terrifying alien lifeform living in his body, loved him. And somehow, someway, Eddie wasn’t running for the hills. He let out another breath, letting himself sink into the couch, his fingers absentmindedly brushing against a tendril wrapped around his wrist. “You’re fucking weird, you know that?”
“We know. And you love us too.”
Eddie grunted, which wasn’t a no, but wasn’t a yes either.
Venom took it as a yes.
More tendrils curled around him, warm and oddly comforting despite being—well, a writhing mass of sentient alien goo. Some traced over the dark circles under his eyes like Venom could smooth the exhaustion away, as if he could fix Eddie just by being there.
Eddie sighed again. “Just—just let me rest, alright? No more weird declarations of love for, like, five minutes.” Venom made a low rumbling sound, something between a growl and a purr. “Fine. Five minutes.”
Eddie closed his eyes, finally, blessedly, feeling himself drift.
Then, barely a second later—
“You have very nice thighs.”
Eddie groaned, covering his face with a pillow. “Jesus Christ, V..”