Fire can hurt a Symbiote. Kill them.
He crawls out of the harbor, limping towards the darkness and hunching down on a curb. Tears flow freely down Eddie's gaunt, pale cheeks. His heart feels like it is growing into a knot.
We. We are gone. Me is what is left, Eddie supposes, wiping the snot off his upper lip. He lies low for several days, registering all of the insane and traumatic shit that has occurred. Venom is gone. He feels a part of himself mourning, gulping more beer than usual, prone to staring off into the distance glass-eyed and ramming his knuckles heatedly against the wall.
He feels empty. So empty and lost, making up the gurgly, growling voice in Eddie's subconscious to fill the abyssal-void. While visiting Anne, Eddie discovers one of her smaller dildos, tucking it away into his gym bag without her knowing.
Anything to feel like he's whole. Full. Eddie buys some lube and carefully opens himself in the shower, breathing deeply, meditatively. He lies face-first on the bed, knees supporting him, wiggling down his pajama pants, easing the black, bulbous-tipped toy into himself until his rim aches and burns with the stretch, groaning and fucking himself one-handed in unsteady, hesitant pace.
It feels good. So good.
Something slick and pulsing grips Eddie's cock, pumping lazily. Eddie's own hands clench up. He doesn't believe it, "Believe in me," Venom croons into Eddie's head, slurping and panting like Eddie pants and fucks himself harder on the dildo, closer to that edge. That liquidy, black-gleaming appendage fondles him, morphing, gripping onto Eddie's balls tightening for his orgasm. Eddie allows Venom to overtake him, removing the dildo and fucking him benevolently. "Believe in us."
"Okay," Eddie mumbles, comforted by the rumbling voice.