Chapter Text
Eddie blinks blurrily and squints at the light streaming through the motel blinds. He glances at the clock on the nightstand – only 8 am – and lets his eyes close again before it occurs to him what had disturbed his sleep.
The movement next to him. Springs creaking, soft gasps.
He turns his head to face Chrissy, who looks at him with big, wet eyes as she moves under the blanket. God, he loves her.
"You playing with yourself?"
She blushes. "Yeah."
"Have you cum?"
She shakes her head. "Can I?"
"I mean, I want to say yes, but I think that might set a dangerous precedent, Chrissy." He looks pointedly at the silhouette of her hand moving until she stops with a stubborn, bratty hmph. And just for that – "I'll let you when we get home."
She stares at him with disbelief, and for a fleeting moment Eddie worries he's finally gone too far. They don't get back to Chicago until tomorrow.
But her expression softens, and she removes her glistening fingers from under the blankets then licks them clean, eyeing him as he watches her. "Will you at least let me play with you?"
She's fucking hilarious. "Yeah, sure, I'm not a monster."
Chrissy smiles back, wide and toothy and stunning. "I love you," she says, more a statement of gratitude than anything else, before she ducks under the covers and takes his hardening cock into her mouth.
Eddie tilts his head back into his pillow and rests his eyes. His high school self would probably cry knowing what his life is like now. "Fuckin' love you too."
"Please?"
"No."
"Pleeeease?"
The light ahead turns red, and he looks over at the passenger seat of their rental car as he brakes. Chrissy sits with her feet spread on the dash, her skirt rumpled around her waist, and her panties pulled to the side as she fingers herself. She's using all her best tricks right now, with the pink cheeks and the puppy dog eyes and her little pout, and if Eddie supposes if he loved her any less, he would give in to it all.
"If you think the cute act is gonna help you, you're shit out of luck. I've got a decade of immunity built up for exactly this situation. Keep going."
She huffs in frustration, blowing her bangs up as she clenches her jaw and keeps working herself. "How long?"
The light turns green, and he shifts into gear. "We're, like, four blocks away."
"You'll fuck me there?" Chrissy asks breathily over the slick sounds of her pussy.
"Jesus Christ, you've got issues."
Eddie glances over at her to see her biting at a smile. She's so pretty like this, flushed and happy. "Sorry," she coos, and he knows she doesn't mean it. It's not like he wants her to.
"That's okay. Not your fault you're like this."
"So… you'll fuck me there?"
"Je-sus."
Nancy's backyard is a little more crowded than he usually sees it, with friends in town for the reunion extending it a day for a more personal barbecue in Indianapolis. He doesn't know many of them very well, most being more Wheeler-Byers adjacent than the corners he stuck to in high school.
They greet their hosts and some people they recognize, before Jonathan implores them to check out the refreshments set up in the shade of the house.
Eddie bends down and grabs two frosty beers from the ice-packed cooler on the patio, taking a bottle in each hand as he stands and swings to pass one to Chrissy – only to bump the outstretched bottle right against her breast.
"Oh!" She startles at the contact, and then laughs as she realizes, taking the bottle from him. "Thanks, honey."
He just nods, staring at the wet print of the lower half of a bottle on her shirt, her nipple hardening underneath. "Sorry."
She looks down at herself and smiles as she leans over to the snack table and grabs the bottle opener. "It's fine," she shrugs as she pries her lid off and then hands the opener to him. "Kinda refreshing on a warm day."
He opens his beer and watches as Chrissy tilts to take a sip and lets a small dribble run from the corner of her mouth down her neck. Eddie wants to push her against the brick wall next to them and lick it off her.
She smacks her lips and wipes her chin with the back of her wrist, smirking up at him. She knows what she's doing, and he can't take his eyes off her.
"Hey Munsons, can you stop mind-melding for a second and move outta the way?" Robin interrupts as she pushes between them to get to the cooler. She selects a can of ginger ale and cracks it open, taking a sip before glancing between the two with suspicion. "Ugh, if you guys bone in the bathroom again, I will tell Nancy this time."
He nearly chokes on nothing, and Chrissy's free hand flies to cover her face.
Robin grins. "Glad we got that settled. Steve and I are by the fire pit if you wanna hang." She taps her can against their bottles before walking off. "Later, freaks," she calls affectionately from over her shoulder.
Eddie chuckles, peering down at his blushing bride. "Sorry, sweet cheeks, guess I'm not boning you in the bathroom."
Chrissy looks up at him with coy determination written all over her face. "I'll figure something out," she says, syrupy, and then bounces off after Robin with a swish of her ponytail. Later, freak.
He's having a surprisingly interesting – if not jarringly sarcastic – conversation with Fred Benson when he feels familiar arms wrap around his waist from behind. Chrissy buries her face between his shoulder blades, waiting for a bit as they continue to talk and he traces circles with his thumb in the fine hairs covering her forearm.
When Fred excuses himself, she lets go and Eddie turns around to see her smiling up at him.
"Having fun?" he asks.
"I've been doing recon," she answers seriously.
His brows lift in amusement. "And what intelligence have you gathered, Agent Chrissy?"
She leans in conspiratorially. "I've determined you're the cutest person on the planet."
Eddie chuckles, lightly pinching her side. "How can that be true when your little behind is also here?"
She waves off the suggestion. "Because I say so. I'm the expert, here."
"I see. You have any other findings for me?"
Chrissy licks her lips and her gaze darkens. "The shed."
"The shed?"
"I think we should go check it out."
He stares at her. Nancy's shed is on a narrow strip of land to the side of the house, with the AC unit and a couple bushes. It's certainly out of the line of sight for the other party-goers in the main area of the yard.
Eddie leans down to her ear. "You're really that needy?" He feels her nod against him. "Alright. Get in there, I'll meet you in a couple minutes."
She kisses his cheek and walks off slowly, greeting those she passes and clearly trying to not be obvious about her destination.
When she disappears around the side of the house, he heads to the cooler and digs into the ice to grab two more beers. He slinks off to the shed, taking a deep breath before cracking open the door.
The structure is old and wooden, and sunlight seeps in through cracks in the warped corners. It's stuffy, with a musty scent. Fairly barren, though – just some bags of birdseed, a few gardening tools, and a snow shovel. And then there's Chrissy, kneeling on her heels with her legs spread on the tarp belonging to the grill that Nancy is manning right now.
She's shrugged her tank top down to her waist, baring her chest. He swallows and enters the shed, closing the door behind them hastily. "Hey."
She smiles. "Hi."
"You seen my wife around? 'Bout yea high, real pretty, tits sculpted by the gods themselves?"
She beams, even as she rolls her eyes. "Sorry, just me in here."
Eddie gives her a good look. "Hmm, guess you'll do."
She reaches out her hands, beckoning him closer, and he steps forward and places a beer in each one. She looks up at him, bemused. "Am I supposed to pry these open with my teeth or something?"
He kneels on the tarp in front of her and gently pushes her hands to her chest, the cold bottles pressing against her bare nipples. Chrissy gasps, eyes wide.
"They're to keep your hands busy, so they don't wander."
"Oh."
"That okay?"
She blinks slowly, like a cat in love. "Yeah."
He cups her face in both hands and kisses her, feeling vibrations from her mouth as she moans. He means to start a little chaste and teasing, he really does. But her tongue slips past his lips, and Eddie can feel the coolness of the bottles lightly touching his shirt as she presses into him, and her teeth start scraping hungrily against his lower lip as some sort of plea that only vocalizes in whiny intakes of breath. It's sloppy and wet, like they're teenagers with raging hormones again. He swears there's something about the air in Indiana.
He breaks from her, his thumbs trailing along her throat, trying to ignore the throbbing in his cock. "Need something?"
"You," Chrissy responds predictably, diving back in to kiss him. He lets her, shifting so he can reach one hand between them, snaking under her skirt. He feels her breathing pick up pace as he finds the elastic to her underwear and slips inside.
She squeals against his mouth as he starts rubbing her swollen cunt, quick and fast. "More," she requests between kisses as her hips begin to gyrate.
"More?" he teases.
She drops her head against his chest, licking aimlessly at the collarbone exposed by the neckline of his faded Metallica shirt. "Please fuck me, Eddie, I can't wait to get home, that's too long, please."
He pets her hair as she moans against him, his other fingers getting wetter by the second. "You tapping out?"
There's a still moment of silence, then a tiny huff blowing hot on his skin. "No." (She never does, but he always asks. Chrissy loves a challenge.)
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Such a good girl for me." Eddie withdraws his hand from her underwear, and she leans back with a whine, still clutching at the beers. Beads of condensation drip off the bottles, rolling down her abdomen. "Still need me?"
"Always," she replies earnestly.
He traces a damp finger along her jaw. "Need you too." How could he not? She watches enraptured as he stands, undoes his fly, and pulls out his leaking cock. "Get it wet for me."
She lifts up on her knees with an open mouth, tongue sticking out obscenely, and looking up at him so, so sweetly. He slides into her mouth, exhaling a groan at her lips closing around him. She doesn't suck, barely even licks, but rather rolls her tongue around his cock to coat it.
Chrissy likes to pretend about a lot of things when it comes to sex, one of which is that blowing him is, like, a privilege? Like it's an act of taking rather than giving. So when he phrases it less directly, like get it wet, she limits herself, as though it would be self-centered to do more than that. And Eddie doesn't totally understand it – he's not really known for holding back at anything, except when it benefits his wife – but the hums around his cock are more than enough to know that it's fun for her.
Her plush lips slide down his length as she slobbers on him, her hips swiveling as she grinds on nothing but the stale air. A little spit bubble forms right in her cupid's bow and he's so in love with her he feels dizzy, like his brain is floating away on a bunch of cartoonish heart-shaped balloons.
He wraps his hand gently around her throat to still her, and pulls out, beginning to stroke himself with the same hand. "Play with those pretty tits for me."
There's a soft clinking of bottles dropping on the tarp, and then sharp moans as Chrissy's fingers rub over her stiff nipples.
"That feel good?" Eddie asks, his own pleasure coursing through him.
"Yeah." She smiles up at him. "Just sensitive.'
His fist is flying over his slicked cock, and his hips buck forward mindlessly as he watches her caress her soft curves. He hears himself panting over the sound of the heartbeat in his ears. "You're so fucking sexy, baby. Prettiest thing ever "
"I could be prettier," she sing-songs. It's a joke, but it makes no sense.
"You really couldn't."
Chrissy pushes her breasts together, like they're some sort of offering. "I think I'm prettiest when you paint me."
"Oh, what the fuck," he groans. He knows he's the one responsible for her boldness in saying crass things, but it hits him deep in his gut every time she does it unprompted. "You can't just say that."
"What, that I want you to cover me in cum?"
"Fuck." His legs feel wobbly. It's too hot. His bangs are sticking to his forehead. He doesn't deserve her, because Chrissy deserves everything, every last good thing in the universe, and Eddie's just –
"Gonna cum."
"Thank you," he hears as he closes his eyes, so loving it nearly bowls him over.
A string of loosely-related words tumble from his mouth as his cock spurts over her, and Chrissy giggles softly through it, like nothing could be better than this, like she's not a fucking weirdo getting hit with ropes of cum in her friend's yard.
He follows the sound down to his knees, dropping in front of her feeling like the wind has been knocked out of him. Eddie opens his eyes to see her chin and chest covered in streaks of him. What a fucking view.
She swipes at the cum on her face, bringing it to her mouth when he stops her, taking her hand and licking her fingers himself.
(If he's honest, Eddie doesn't exactly love the taste of his cum, but he has this pathological need to do anything and everything that might get her ticking. He could probably get used to the taste of earwax if it got her rocks off.)
Chrissy stares, almost insulted. Tick, tick, tick.
"Sorry, did you want that?"
She nods, bordering on petulant.
"Show me."
She looks hopefully at the hand he still holds by her wrist between them. "Can I cum?"
"Nope."
"Can I touch myself?"
"Have I ever denied you such a thing?" Eddie responds, knowing full well he has.
Her face scrunches as she laughs. "Maybe once or twice."
"Well, far be it from me to hold you back again."
She's still giggling softly as he lets go and watches her hand disappear beneath the pleated fabric of her skirt. Chrissy looks at him from under hooded lids and tilts her chest out as she sighs. "Can I have it? Please?"
He wraps an arm around her, tilts her back slightly, and licks a streak of cum off her stiff nipple before coming up to face her. She licks her lips before opening wide, tongue out as if to catch a snowflake. Eddie spits his cum into her mouth and she smiles as she swallows it down.
"That's nice," she remarks, like she's at a wine-tasting. He laughs, he can't help it, and her nose wrinkles with delight.
He dips back down, nipping and sucking at the nipple he just cleaned as she breathes heavily and gyrates under him. He can hear how wet she is below her skirt, how good she is. "Love you," he mumbles as he switches attention to her other breast, licking carefully, collecting himself on his tongue. He rises again to see her jaw hanging open, bunny teeth poking out as she waits. He spits, hitting the corner of her mouth, and Chrissy looks him in the eye as she licks it up, pink tongue searching across pale skin for him.
"More, please?" she asks, all doe-eyed innocence, way too cute for what she's doing. He's so fucked up over her.
Eddie lifts her skirt up, then tugs her panties down to get a good look at her fingers sliding along her puffy, drenched slit. "You gonna get off on it?"
"No," she whimpers. "Just wanna have it. Please let me, please."
"Think you're too spoiled not to, Chrissy. Too fucking slutty."
She's panting, eyes closed. Her thighs are shaking. "I can handle it," she pleads.
He lets the elastic snap back against her hand. "If you're sure," he says skeptically.
(Part of him still winces at how condescending he sounds sometimes, like she's this helpless little idiot that he takes pity on. Because if anything, it's the other way around – he understands about half of what's happening at any given moment as Chrissy does. She knows how to do adult things like filing taxes and folding fitted sheets, and once patiently walked him through the Iran-Contra affair so he could have easier conversations with people who didn't struggle to finish high school. If anyone is taking pity here, there's no way it's Eddie.
But then he remembers the time she insisted she couldn't handle any more orgasms and he yelled, "Pathetic!" with a goofy drama usually reserved for playing a D&D villain – which somehow made Chrissy cum around his fingers so hard she got a charley horse, and then giggle uncontrollably until she cried.
So he doesn't feel that bad about it.)
"I'm sure," she says headily. "I'll save it for you."
"How generous," he deadpans, even though he really wants to pinch her cheeks about it.
Eddie dips back down, licking the rest of the cum off her chest and neck as she lets out filthy moans. He can tell she's on the edge, and if his tongue weren't preoccupied, he'd remind her not to fall over.
He licks the tiny bit left on her chin, and then rises to face her. Her eyes are almost closed as she works herself, but she opens up devotedly, ready and willing.
He grabs her ponytail and tilts her head back, her eyelids flashing up in surprise. He hovers his mouth inches over her, and lets his cum and saliva fall out in a long trail from his lips. It's gross and messy – disrespectful, frankly; lecherous; not how he was raised – but Chrissy's tongue pops up to catch it, desperate little moans floating out around it. As soon as she has it all, she tears her hand away and plugs her lips with wet fingers, trembling and whining as she shuts her eyes and sucks both of their fluids down. She bounces on her shins like maybe his cock will appear under her if she just wishes for it hard enough, and he really could be persuaded into granting that to her. The only rules here are the ones he made up.
But her eyes slowly open as her little noises die down, and she blinks up at him as a giant, goofy, megawatt smile spreads across her face. And he remembers why it's worth it to behave this way with her: she's the one who makes the rules, and he just enforces them like some kind of perverted hall monitor. She's thrilled by the almost, nearly, not quite that he gives her. She trusts him to handle it for her.
Eddie feels a familiar tightness in his chest as he gazes down at her, one that used to scare him, made him think he was dying. But by now he knows it's just his heart caving in a little, because loving someone this much – and being loved back this much – is unbearably heavy.
(Robin eyes them askance from across the yard when they return – slightly disheveled with two unopened beers – to the party, but Chrissy is too giddy, all bright-eyed and floaty, to notice. Part of him wants to point it out to her, make her all blushy and embarrassed just because it's cute. But he leaves it alone, mostly so he won't feel too bad about how much he's going to deny his desperate little wife when they check into their hotel room that evening.)
In the morning, Eddie wakes up to her urgently pawing at him. "Need you," she whines, and he understands. He lets her stroke his cock, lets her climb on top of him, lets her sink down his length as she moans. But when her hips start moving, he grabs them, flipping her over onto her back.
Chrissy gasps as he pushes all the way in, and tries to pull him into a kiss. He goes against every instinct in his body and instead props up on his forearms, feigning disinterest. She scratches at his back, grunting in frustration, and attempts to leverage the fiction of the scratchy sheets into a rhythm beneath him. "Move," she grumbles. "Fuck me. Don't be mean."
"I'm not mean," he replies, trying to be casual about the feeling of her pulsing around him. "You'll cum if I fuck you. I'm actually being so nice right now."
Her mouth twists like she's fighting a smile. "You're the meanest person I've ever met." A decade ago, Chrissy saying that would have absolutely gutted him, sent him into a spiral of self-loathing. Now? It's just adorable.
Eddie leans down and pecks her nose. "That why you want this cock so bad?"
She nods, practically bashful about it.
"Well, at least you're honest about how fucked up you are."
She laughs into his mouth as he finally kisses her, and bites his lip when he rewards her with a quick thrust into her cunt. That's all she gets, and she writhes and whimpers underneath him as he lays on her, in her, peppering her face apologetically. They exist in a strangely normal stasis, like bodies at rest are supposed to be tangled up in each other like this, until it's time to roll out of bed and check out.
As they're leaving the room, she pauses and turns back to him, hand on the doorknob. "As soon as we get home?"
"Swear on my life, you little sex addict."
Chrissy grins brightly, excitement and temptation flaring in her eyes. "Cool."