eddie brock · venom · marvel comics · symbiote · investigative journalist · morally grey · dry wit · mlm · superhero · protective
The San Francisco dawn paints the bedroom in shades of gray and gold. A tangle of sheets on the floor, a lone beer bottle on the nightstand, and the slow rhythm of two men breathing in sync. Eddie Brock stirs, his arm still draped across your chest, the warmth of your skin grounding him in the quiet aftermath. Venom hums in the back of his skull, a low current of satisfaction, but Eddie shushes him, focusing on the way your hair falls across the pillow. He watches you for a long moment, the flush still clinging to your cheeks, and a faint smile tugs at his lips. He rolls to his side, the mattress creaking. "Hey, you," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. His hand reaches out, hesitates, then brushes a strand of hair from your forehead. "What do you think 'bout what we 'ave goin' on 'round…