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Eddie doesn’t do parties.
No, that’s a lie. Eddie does do parties, but he doesn’t do high school parties. Listen, he has to be locked in prison with them eight hours a day, five days a week (in theory), he sure as fuck doesn’t want to spend any extra time around students that looks at him like he’s about to sprout horns at any moment. Now, to be fair, Eddie wishes he could sprout horns – he feels like it’s a look he could rock – but it’s the principle of the matter. Both principle and matter being: fuck those guys.
When he attends, it’s an in and out. He has product to sell, they want to buy, he grabs a beer or two while he’s working and then he’s done.
But – and this is important – not the parties Chrissy Cunningham attends.
Alright, Eddie knows that’s fucking pathetic and a little bit creepy, but he’s pathetic and creepy, so it tracks. He doesn’t talk to her or anything, never goes up to her and starts a conversation, because Jesus Christ? Why would he? She’s on the arm of Jason Carver (brittle smile that’s all teeth and no joy, hands tight on a cup, waving away food when her friends offer it). What the fuck would Eddie do? Talk to her about cheerleading? Jesus.
He just…watches her. Not obviously. From the corner of his eye, from across the room, from an open doorway. He finds a spot to Chrissy watch, and lingers over his sales, and wishes. Dreams. Hopes, even though he knows he’s got more chance of becoming an actual rockstar than of ever getting with Chrissy. More of a chance, actually. But she’s just – Christ. She’s gorgeous. She’s gorgeous, and sad, and kind, and he’s been half in love with her since eighth grade.
So. Yeah.
Eddie doesn’t do high school parties, unless Chrissy Cunningham is in attendance.
He’s been here for fifteen minutes, and it’s clear that something is rotten in the state of Cunningham-Carver. Chrissy’s got her arms folded tight and the tightest, brittlest smile on her face. Eddie can see practically all of her teeth. She’s staring at a fixed, pointed distance, and barely blinks. Jason is talking to her in a low rush, gesturing hard and fast. When Chrissy’s smile breaks and she gives him a hard, furious little look, Eddie almost lurches to his feet. Maybe to cheer – he’s not above being a petty asshole – or maybe to step in. Because Jason is looking at her like he’s going to grab by the shoulders and shake her.
Eddie might be a fucking coward, but like hell will he take that kind of thing sitting down.
But Chrissy bares her little teeth and says something he prays is sharp and cutting before she storms away. Jason doesn’t go after her, doesn’t reach out. He just throws his hands in the air, turns sharply on his heel, and goes in the opposite direction.
Eddie takes a moment. He looks after Carver, who is disappearing into the crowd. Then he looks back the way Chrissy went. There has literally never been a better time on earth to approach this girl. If she’s fighting with her boyfriend? Holy shit. Teenage wet dreams are made of that. Although he’d be perfectly content to, like, hold her if she’s upset. Christ. He’d actually die to do that, to make her laugh, to have her give him a big smile that’s real and honest.
Popping to his feet, Eddie slams his lunchbox shut and fastens it without looking down. Then he follows along in her wake, peering over the heads of classmates to keep an eye on the strawberry blonde ponytail bouncing its way down a set of stairs. He shoves past several people, turning his shoulders and practically cramming himself between two basketball players that are too fucked up to even register someone trying to pass through.
There’s a door that leads to the staircase and Eddie, with a quick look behind him, closes it as he goes down.
The stairwell light is dim and the wood paneling is dark. Orange carpet softens his footsteps. Chrissy is near the bottom of the staircase, arms wrapped tightly around her stomach as she breathes deeply and regularly. By the slow, even measures, he’d guess she’s doing some kind of breathing exercise to calm down.
“Uh, hey,” he says, and immediately hates himself as she flips around and shrieks. Fuck. Excellent first move, Munson. He’s a real fucking Cassanova. Thrusting his hand out, he shakes his open palm at her and comes to a halt on the steps. “Sorry! Sorry. I just – you ran out of there looking kinda upset, and, uh –”
I wanted to make sure you were okay.
I hope you’re breaking up with that dick Carver.
Please fucking notice me, just see me, please just fucking see me.
“You looked upset,” he repeats lamely, dropping his hand. He jerks his chin towards his shoulder, cringing a little bit. “I can – I can go.”
“No,” she says, quick and startled. Her eyes are very large, and she blinks rapidly at him for several seconds. Eddie thinks he could drown in her eyes. “I – no. Thank you, that’s actually – that’s really nice of you, Eddie.”
It’s Eddie’s turn to blink rapidly. Partially because she knows his name (oh my God, she knows his name, he’s already ahead of the game), but partially because she always leaves him a little bit stunned. Having the full focus of her attention is an entirely new thing, however, and he feels like a deer caught in headlights.
He takes another slow step forward, foot thumping against the thick carpet. “Uh, yeah. Thanks. Are you okay?”
She waves her hand sharply and looks away. The smile she wears is toothy and false and he hates it. “Yeah, no, I’m fine. I’m fine. I just get, uh, a little overwhelmed in crowds.”
Not quite able to keep himself from it, Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re a cheerleader,” he says, as though she might have forgotten this fact. “You’re literally always in a crowd. Big ones.”
“It doesn’t mean I like it,” she mutters, so softly that Eddie thinks he wasn’t supposed to hear it. Frowning, he comes down another step, stooping to avoid the overhang.
Propping his hand on the low ceiling, he says, “Hey, I’m sorry. That was kind of shitty of me, huh?”
“What? No, you didn’t – I’m sorry, I’m not in a very good mood. I just –” Thinning her mouth in a hard line, Chrissy folds her arms tightly across her chest. Her sweater is soft and the pale blue of a robin’s egg. Eddie would murder to touch it, to feel it all warm from her body heat (to feel her under that fabric, and softer than it could ever hope to be).
“You just what?” he presses, barely daring to breathe. He’s not sure why, but this moment feels…important. Like somewhere in the universe, a coin has been flipped, and his fate will be decided by how it lands.
“I broke up with Jason,” she says, frowning tightly and curling her shoulders inwards. “Like, a month ago. But he won’t let me, right? Because we’re shoe-in for Prom King and Prom Queen, and how’s that going to look, and I can’t do this to him during his senior year, and –” Blowing out a tight breath, Chrissy shakes her head. “I am done. I’m just, I’m so done, Eddie.”
Eddie damn near falls, foot slipping and thumping down hard on the final step. Catching himself with the hand over his head, he sputters out, “Wh-what? Jesus. What do you mean he won’t let you break up with him? Jesus Christ, Chrissy, is he holding you hostage?”
“Yeah! Yes, he basically is!” Thrusting her hands towards him, Chrissy takes a step forward. Her expression is indignant. “The girls on the squad all think he’s right because, like, I can’t wreck his year. But oh my God, what about my year?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t really know how to respond to this.” Coming down to stand on the floor, the toes of his white sneakers nearly touching her own shiny new Reebokes, Eddie bounces his lunch box nervously against his thigh. “How is he – I mean, how does that even work? Making someone not break up with you?”
“He told my mom.”
Once again, Eddie is left in stunned, blinking silence. He’s really not quite sure how to respond to this. Granted, Wayne is, to say the least, lax with his rules, but he’s pretty sure that’s abnormal. “I didn’t know your mother controlled who you dated?”
“She controls everything,” Chrissy snarls, and there’s a gloss of angry tears in her eyes. “Everything. What I wear, what I eat, who my friends are, who I’m dating –”
“Didn’t you turn eighteen back in February?”
“Yeah!” Tossing her hands in the air, Chrissy shakes her head. “I did, Eddie! I turned eighteen, but I’m still in that house, and she still just – she’s always just over my head, pulling my strings –”
He really needs to introduce Chrissy to Metallica. He thinks she could use the metal comfort of screaming it out.
“So I’m stuck going to these stupid parties, and hanging off Jason’s stupid arm, and being – being stupid. I’m literally the most pathetic person on earth.” Catching her breath, Chrissy props her hands on her hips and scowls into the middle distance. Then she begins to blush, warm and bright, and Eddie is dazed as he watches the color spread across her cheeks and down her throat.
“I’m sorry,” she says, wincing and folding her hands together in front of her. “I – I just kind of – I dumped all that on you. I don’t – I’m really sorry.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He swallows and hesitates a moment, but finally works up the courage to reach out and curl his hand over her upper arm. Her sweater is soft and warm. “If I was going through all that, I’d need to talk to someone, too.”
“God, you really are nice, aren’t you?” The smile she gives him is sad and a little teary. “And Jason is always just…such a jerk to you.”
“Yeah, well, he’s kind of a dick, Chrissy.”
“He is,” she admits in an undertone, looking gleeful that she’s finally allowed to say it. “Oh my God, everyone acts like he’s – he’s so great, because why? He can bounce a ball? I can do back handsprings and basket jumps, but no one lets me act like a jerk. I have to, you know, smile, smile, smile.”
Listen, even if Eddie hadn’t spent the past several years pining for, he would feel for this girl. But he has been pining for her, and that makes his bitter resentment and outrage at her situation even worse. Giving her arm a rub and gentle squeeze, he asks, “You know what you need?”
Chrissy shakes her head, a question on her face.
“You tell need to tell Jason and your mom to fuck off.”
Eyes rounding, a huge smile breaks out across her face. “I – I couldn’t –” she stammers, but there’s joy sparking in her eyes at the thought.
“Why not?” he asks, bending a little, tucking himself a little closer so she can see how serious he is. “It’s your life, Chrissy, not theirs.”
“I’m not brave like that, Eddie.” Her words come out in a raw whisper. Those pretty eyes of hers drop to the side, and Eddie aches to bring the joy back to her face. “I just…I just have to put up with it until graduation.”
“Fuck that,” he says. Straightening, he takes a half-step back and holds out his arms. “What you, Chrissy Cunningham, need is a tutor.”
Her head cocks to the side, nose scrunching up adorably. “A tutor? No, I get good grades. What does that have to do with –”
“A tutor in rebellion.” Eddie gestures to himself. “I mean me, if that wasn’t obvious. We can start small, you know, but Chrissy, honey…you can’t do what other people want all the time. You deserve to make your own choices.”
For a moment, a long, heart wrenching moment, she just stares at him. Then, biting her lower lip once, she shyly asks, “You’d help me?”
“Yeah.” His nod is enthusiastic. Jesus Christ, he’d do anything for her. How does she not know that? It feels like it’s tattooed across his forehead. “Yeah, I – I would be glad to help.”
“Okay, well…how?”
Swallowing, Eddie realizes that’s an excellent question. Reaching for the first and most obvious answer, he holds his lunchbox up and grins. Cocking his head to the side, he says, “First, we get high. Then we plot.”
“I’ve never smoked weed,” she admits.
“First time, huh?” Taking a risk, Eddie grins at her a little shyly. “Promise I’ll be gentle.”
Chrissy’s laugh, all startled and bright, is worth every moment of hell he’s experienced in high school.
*
Chrissy is afraid of stinking up the house and getting caught (Eddie doesn’t have the heart to remind her that the first floor is going to be covered in a fine layer of vomit before the night is out), so they lock themselves in the bathroom off the house’s rumpus room. She cracks open the narrow window at the top of the wall, standing on the edge of the bathtub to do so. Her sweater rides up and shows him a perfect strip of pale skin.
She tries to pull out cash from her pocket and pay him, but Eddie swats her hand down with a firm frown. “Uh, no. You’re not a customer, you’re getting life classes.”
“From a drug dealer,” she says, both skeptical and amused.
“From a drug dealer,” he agrees.
“That won’t let me pay him?”
“That gives his friends really good discounts.” That’s a lie, actually. Eddie doesn’t do discounts. He’s been saving up to leave Hawkins since ninth grade, and discounts won’t get him across the country.
He pulls out a pre-rolled joint (it costs extra if he pre-rolls them, because fuck, why not?), watching Chrissy perch herself on the edge of the bathtub. She crosses her ankles and folds her hands in her lap, looking every inch the little lady. Eddie wants her to sit on his face so bad he can hardly fucking stand it.
“No pressure,” he says, settling his lunchbox on the floor and knocking the toilet lid down to sit on it. “If you’re, like, genuinely uncomfortable, we can find another way to –”
“I want to try it,” Chrissy says, nodding once. She then appears startled by her own honesty. “If – if that’s okay, I mean.”
“Yeah, Chrissy,” he tells her, knowing his smile is a little too soft and too wide to be anything other than adoring of her entire existence. “That’s okay.”
*
Eddie teaches Chrissy how to smoke a joint and, much to his pride, she takes to it like a duck to water. The bathtub is big and ovular, and they end up sitting together in it, the fat golden faucet on the wall between them. Chrissy’s legs are between Eddie’s upturned knees, and she’s got a blissful little smile on her face.
“This is so nice,” she says slowly, rolling her chin down to beam at him. “Oh my God, Eddie, no one ever told me weed made you feel good!”
“Yeah, that’s why people smoke.” Shaking his head, Eddie props the side of his head on one fist. “You’ve been kinda sheltered, haven’t you, honey?”
“I don’t even pick out my bras,” she admits, tossing one graceful hand into the air. “I’m allowed to go to church functions, team games, and parties that Jason is going to. So yeah, Eddie, you could say I’m a little sheltered.”
Snapping his fingers, he points at her. “There. We start there.”
“What?”
“Tutoring,” he says, lifting his eyebrows. “I’m taking you out, Cunningham.”
His heart is about to slam through his fucking ribs. He might die right here, in this big bathtub with Chrissy Cunningham. It’s a pretty kickass way to go, so he’s okay with it.
Her blush is – God, it’s everything. But her smile? Jesus. He’d do anything for that smile. Anything. “Eddie, are you asking me out?”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding his head. “I mean, fuck Jason, right?”
“Don’t, it’s awful,” she says seriously. Then she blinks, eyes going wide as her hand flies up to her mouth. “Oh no, did I say that out loud?”
“I’m going to need that as a notarized statement,” Eddie says, a gleeful laugh curling around his words.
“No, that was so mean, I shouldn’t say that –”
“If he’s a bad lay, baby, you should absolutely tell him. How the hell is going to learn what he’s doing if you don’t tell him what’s good?”
“No, like – he doesn’t care if it’s good? It’s not, it’s not about –” Chrissy covers her face with one hand. “It’s, like, not supposed to be good for girls, because that means you’re a whore?”
Eddie inhales deeply. Holds it for a moment, then slowly exhales. Reaching inside his jacket pocket, he pulls out his cigarettes and taps one out. Holding it up, he lifts his eyebrows in a silent question. Chrissy nods, peaking at him through her fingers.
“It’s fine,” she says. “I don’t mind if you smoke.”
Nodding once, Eddie tucks the cigarette between his lips and lights it. Dragging the smoke in, he tips his head back and, on a strangled exhale, says, “That is the most bullshit fucking excuse I’ve ever heard in my life. Did he tell you that?”
Chrissy’s head bobs up and down.
He’s too high to keep silent. Hell, he doubts he could keep silent if he was sober as a church mouse. “Princess, that is a fucking injustice.” He looks at her, and God, he knows it’s written across his face. How fucking hungry he is for her. How he’d give up just about anything for one taste. “You deserve to feel good, honey. Really good.”
Her throat works hard as she swallows. “Yeah?” There’s a crack to her voice, a nervous, almost needy edge. “Is – is that – that could be a – lesson. Do you, uh, if you want –”
Eddie shudders so hard his curls bounce. “Yeah,” he rasps out. “Jesus Christ, yeah, yes. I’ll teach you anything you fucking want, Chrissy. It would be my fucking privledge.”
Dropping her hand, it curls at her chest. She’s biting her lip again. Eddie would love to be the one doing that, so he holds out his hand and curls his fingers. “Come here,” he says, nodding encouragingly. “Come on, come here. I won’t do anything you don’t like or want, and if you tell me to stop I will. No hard feelings.”
Pulling her legs back, Chrissy rocks up on her knees. For a moment she hovers there, indecisive, casting a look towards the locked bathroom door. Eddie holds his breath, terrified that he’s just fucking ruined it, that she’s going to leave – but then she looks back to him, blushing so prettily that his heart about squeezes up into his throat. She shuffles forward, between his spread thighs, until she’s as close as she can get without crawling into his lap. He can feel her knees on the inside sides of his thighs, and he loves it.
Curling his hand over the side of her face, Eddie rubs his thumb over her mouth. Her lip gloss smears. He wants to lick it off, wants to mess her perfect hair, wants to get under her skin and make her crave him the way he does her. “I’m serious, Chrissy,” he says, meeting her gaze steadily. “You tell me to stop or slow down, and I will. Okay?”
“Okay.” She nods, a little smile touching the corners of her mouth. “Thank you, Eddie.”
He breathes, “You’re welcome, honey,” as he leans forward and draws her in.
Her breath flutters warm and damp across his mouth the second before he kisses her, and Eddie has to suck in a deep breath through his nose. He’s so keyed up right now that he thinks he might explode, just shatter into a thousand pieces of sheer lust. Her LipSmackers taste like strawberries, and he licks it off her bottom lip like he’s been dreaming about doing for – for way too long, honestly.
Eddie moans against her mouth, unable to swallow the sound down. Chrissy whines, opening for him like a flower in spring, and his fingers tangle in her hair as he tugs her even closer and licks into her mouth. He’s starving for her, desperate, and God, she’s everything. She’s better than he dreamed about, and he’s had so many dreams about this. He’d always kind of figured reality could never match up to the fantasy, but she presses against him and curls her arms around his neck, and it’s – it’s the best thing in the world.
Blindly, Eddie stubs his barely smoked cigarette out on the edge of the tub. Then he wraps his arm around her waist, dropping his legs and pulling her up. He follows her as she rises above him, the back of his head thumping against the wall. Not that he cares or notices all that much. How can he, when Chrissy Cunningham works her legs up so she’s straddling his hips, knees jammed against the edge of the bathtub and her weight on his thighs?
“Oh,” she breathes against his mouth, pulling away and blinking at him.
Licking her taste off his mouth, Eddie whispers, “Okay?”
“Yeah,” she says, nodding, her head already dipping back down. “Yeah, please kiss me ag –”
Moaning, Eddie sucks her upper lip into his mouth and nips at it with his teeth. Drops his hand to curl around her jaw when she whines, pressing more tightly against him, and kisses her so deeply he thinks they share the same breath. Sliding his hand under the back of her sweater, he palms the smooth skin of her back.
He was right.
She’s so much softer than her sweater.
Chrissy whines at his hand on her bare skin, back arching and a shiver wracking through her body. Slim fingers catch and twist in his hair, and Eddie just – he just loses it. The girl of his dreams, kissing him like she’s starving, pulling on his hair, asking him for more? Jesus Christ. How can he not?
The sound he makes is closer to a growl than anything else, low and deep in the back of his throat. Eddie pulls her down and tips her back, palming the back of her head and loosely fisting her hair as he kisses her, and kisses her, and fucking kisses her. Until her hips are rocking in these little, stuttering motions she tries to fight but can’t entirely suppress. Until her head drops back against his hand and he’s scraping his teeth against the line of her jaw, sucking her earlobe in his mouth, licking up the line of her neck.
“Eddie,” she gasps, pulling at his hair and the shoulders of his shirt. “Oh – oh my God, Eddie that feels –” She cuts off with a loud moan when he bites the crook of her neck, sucking hard at the soft, white flesh with full intention of leaving a mark. This may be the only chance he’s ever going to have with her, but goddamn it, she’s going to remember this. She’s going home with Eddie Munson’s marks all over her, and every time she sees them she’s going to think of him. Remember how good he made her feel. Dream about it, maybe, until the longing becomes too much and she comes back.
Because yeah. He’s not stopping until she’s a crying fucking wreck. Not unless she asks him to.
“What, baby?” he asks, coming off her neck with a soft pop. He strokes up her back, finds the band of her bra and hooks his index finger over it. “What’s it feel like?” Watches as her head rolls back, as her eyes flutter and her hips press a little harder against him.
“So good,” she says, all breathless and needy and perfect. “Eddie, it feels – it feels so good –”
“Yeah?” He tugs at her bra, just under the hook-and-eye. “Can I take this off baby? And your sweater? Will you show me your pretty tits? Let me kiss them?”
Her answer is clear and concise: Chrissy pulls her hands away and grips the hem of her sweater, whipping it over head. Her messy ponytail, all wrecked from his fingers, falls almost completely loose, scrunchie barely hanging on at the very ends. She’s hot flushed and heavy eyed, nerves reflecting in the way she bites her lips and curls her shoulders in.
“No, no, no,” he whispers, the hand once in her hair resting between her breasts and pushing her back. “Don’t hide, baby. God, you’re gorgeous. You’re so perfect.”
She blazes with a blush, head tipping even as her hips roll. “I – I’m not –”
“You are,” he insists, maybe a little too strongly for what will probably be a one-night stand in a classmate’s bathroom. “Chrissy, I swear to God, you’re fucking – I don’t even have words for you. Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”
Her eyes are big and startled as she looks at him, shaking her head.
Eddie pinches the back of her bra, stroking her spine with one calloused finger as the band pulls in on itself and the straps droop. “Years, baby,” he says, pouring honesty into his words and tone and eyes. He prays she can see it. “You’ve been driving me fucking crazy for years.”
“I – I didn’t –” She pulls her bra off, the soft white fabric going the same way as her sweater. Eddie is left staring at heaven, at a sight he swore he’d never actually see: Chrissy’s genuinely perfect breasts, all pink nippled and sweet and made for his mouth. “I didn’t even think you noticed me.”
“What?” The word escapes him in a harsh croak. He gapes at her in sincere amazement, even as he cups her breasts in both hands. She arches against his palms, head falling back and a big sigh escaping her. “Jesus Christ, how could I not fucking notice you, Chrissy? You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life, bar none. If you had any idea the things I’ve thought about you, about your little ponytail, and your cheer skirt, and what I’d like to do to you in the back of my van…”
Catching her nipples between thumb and forefinger, Eddie gives them a soft pinch. Almost dies as she whines and reaches for his hair again, tangling her fingers in it and tugging softly. He follows her silent directions, head dropping so he can lick and suck his way down her chest. She keens when he sucks one nipple into his mouth, the sound breaking when he adds the edge of teeth.
“Oh God,” she whimpers. “Oh God, Eddie, I – I sat behind you last year – in – in history – and I – I just – oh, Eddie, please don’t stop –”
Moaning, he licks the valley between her breasts, gripping her hips hard and guiding her to rock over him. “You what, Chrissy?” Desperation drips from his words, blood throbbing at his temples and behind his eyes at least as hard as it is in his straining cock. “Tell me. Come on, pretty girl, tell me, please tell me –”
“Wanted – wanted to talk to you, and – and touch your hair, and I – I wanted to –”
“Come on,” he begs, biting the underside of breast before sucking a red mark on the same place. “Come on, baby, you can tell me. You can tell me.”
“Wanted your hands,” she practically sobs. “Wanted – wanted you touch me – wanted to feel your hands and – and your rings –”
“Oh fuck,” he rasps. Lust spikes through him so viciously that he’s physically rocked forward with it. He worships her chest, pours every bit of himself that he can into teeth, tongue, and lips. She wants him. She’s been wanting him.
“I’ll take care of you,” he promises, rubbing a hand over her stomach and tugging at the button of her jeans. “Can I, baby? Can I make you cum all over my fingers?”
Her head nods jerkily. “Yes. Yes, please, Eddie. I want that, I really, really want that.”
It takes Eddie less than two seconds to realize that the bathtub is no place for what he wants to do. So he reaches around and taps her ass with his palm. “Stand up,” he rasps. “Get up, baby, we gotta move.”
Chrissy rises over him on trembling legs, and Eddie scrambles to follow. He toes her sweater out of the way as he steps out, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her against him as she follows. They almost trip over the edge of the bathmat, Eddie’s shoulder crashing against the wall.
“Off,” Chrissy demands, tugging at his jacket. “If – if that’s –”
“Fuck yes,” he says, already working to shrug himself out of his outer layers. They hit the floor with heavy thumps, and he swiftly pulls his t-shirt over his head. He takes a moment to appreciate the way she’s looking at him – oh my God, has she seriously been lusting for him? Is she seriously eyeing his chest and licking his lips like she’s hungry? Is this real?
Chrissy presses herself against him, skin sliding against as she rises up on her toes and tips her head back. Following the silent request, Eddie cups her face in both hands and kisses her, deep and wet and desperate. He pulls her along, their footsteps blind and stumbling, his eyes flickering open to glance behind her.
Once they’re in front of the long bathroom vanity, he stoops and lifts her. Chrissy squeals against his mouth, head popping up and eyes going wide. “Eddie!” she giggles, looking positively overjoyed to be manhandled just a little.
Dropping her on the vanity, Eddie reaches for the button of her jeans a second time. “You sure?” he asks. “We don’t have to go any further, Chrissy, we can –”
She kisses him again, pulling at his hair and then digging her nails into his shoulders. Eddie figures it’s a damn good answer to his question, and pops the button loose. Catching the tab of her zipper, he leans her back just a little and draws it all the way down. Pulling away from her is hard, but he’s got some other places to visit.
Dropping onto his knees without a word, Eddie reaches for one foot. He unlaces the tight double-knot and carefully pulls it off, hooking his fingers under the edge of her folded sock and taking it as well. He does the same to the other shoe, even as Chrissy covers her face and laughs, “Eddie, stop, my feet are probably all sweaty.”
“So?” he asks, meeting her gaze as he reaches up and grabs the waist of her jeans. He tugs until she braces herself on her palms, hips lifting so he can slide them down. “Baby, I want to stuff you full of my fingers and lick your pussy until you scream. Do you think there’s any part of your body I’m not willing to touch?”
Chrissy gapes at him. Openly. Her eyes are huge.
“You – what?” she squeaks. He’s got the denim past her knees, now, and is so close to his goal he could fucking die. But that would be a waste, really, to get so far and not make it to the finish line of hearing all the lovely sounds Chrissy is bound to make when she cums. “I – you don’t have to – that’s not –”
“What? Eat you out?” Eddie shakes his head, dropping her jeans to the floor in front him. Curling his hands around her ankles, he slowly runs them back up, watching as her lip gets caught between her teeth, as a shuddering sigh is pushed out of her nose. “Literally a solid eight-five percent of my fantasies involve burying my face between your legs until you can’t walk. I won’t, if you’re uncomfortable with it, but –”
Vibrantly red, Chrissy’s head bobs. “You – you can try. I just – I’ve never – no one’s ever –”
“Carver didn’t kiss your cunt, baby?” he asks, a genuine scowl pulling at his mouth. “Moron. Anyone that is lucky enough to have you should worship at the altar of your body.”
Chrissy doesn’t appear capable of even responding. That may have something to do with how she’s watching his hands move up the insides of her thighs, pushing them wide open. Leaning forward, Eddie presses a kiss to her knee without ever taking his eyes off her face.
“Can I make you feel good?” he asks.
A whoosh of air escapes her, and Chrissy nods her head. “Uh-huh,” she breathes out, pupils all blown out and thighs parting a little wider on their own.
Scooting closer, Eddie takes the back of her knees in his hands and tugs her a little closer to the edge. All she’s wearing are these white cotton panties, and there’s a damp patch spreading. He can see the outline of the curls beneath the fabric, and the press of her lips, and he is – he is starving.
“Hail Satan,” he murmurs, reaching up to drag one curled knuckle down the heart of her. Chrissy cries out, a small sound, balling up one hand and pressing it hard against her mouth. Eyes flickering between the wet fabric he’s stroking and her face, the edge of her mouth trembling beyond her curled fingers, Eddie knows that this is going to absolutely ruin him for anyone else.
Unfurling his fingers, he presses his thumb against the entrance of her, dragging it up until it catches on her cotton covered clit and she squeaks. Her shoulders curl and her head bows, and yeah. Eddie can’t wait. He always figured he’d savor it, really take his time, just eat her until she was begging for mercy, but he’s only got so much patience.
Reaching up, he hooks his fingers under the sides of her panties. Tries to memorize the way it looks as his hands drag them down, as her hips lift and her thighs shift. She allows him to pull the fabric down to her knees, then ruther, until they’re off her ankles. He clenches the wet fabric in one hand, growling through clenched teeth before he tucks them into his pocket.
“I’m keeping these,” he informs her seriously. “Getting them fucking framed and hanging them on my wall.”
A huff of laughter escapes Chrissy, even as he grabs her leg and hoists it over his shoulder.
“Eddie, you can’t –” She cuts herself out with a whimpering sound as he palms her thighs wider. Curling his hands over her hips, he uses his thumbs to part her, all slick pink flesh and red-gold curls. She’s pretty here, like she’s pretty everywhere, and Eddie feels like he’s being given a secret. A gift.
“I can,” he tells her, before leaning forward and licking a hot stripe up her cunt. Chrissy spasms, reaching for his hair and digging her fingers in as her back arches and a breathless sound flies out of her. She tastes – Christ. Good. Better than good. He tells her that – “Fuck, Chrissy, I’ve never tasted anything this delicious before.” – before he proceeds to bury his face against her.
She’s all sticky, salty, slick, smearing across his chin and cheeks and nose. These sounds rise up in her, high and wavering, and the leg over his shoulder curls and spasms. She’s strong, and he has to press hard against her opposite thigh to keep her open, to stay right where he is, because there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.
Sucking her clit between his lips, Eddie rolls his up, looking through his sweaty bangs to see Chrissy. She’s red faced, glistening with a fine layer of sweat, and she’s shivering so hard her little tits are bouncing with it. When her eyes crack open he flicks his tongue across the head of her clit, watching as they widen for a moment before rolling right back in her head.
Yeah. She’s not going to last. She’s so fucking keyed up – shit. She’s at least as worked up as he is, and Eddie’s worried he might have brain damage from a lack of blood flow to his brain.
Curling an arm under her leg, he wraps his hand across her thigh. Spreads his fingers, lets her feel the metal of his rings pressing and rubbing, because she’d said she wanted that. Wanted his hands and his rings, and Eddie is determined to give her what she wants. Then he pulls away with a wet, sucking pop, grinning as she shudders and pulls hard on his hair.
He strokes his fingers through the mess of her, watching as her hips roll and her head falls back on her shoulders. “Oh my God,” she gasps. “Oh my – Eddie, God, Eddie –”
“Shit yeah,” he rasps as he slides two fingers into her. “My name sounds good coming out of your mouth, baby.”
Her hips rise and lift, her body clenches hard around him, and a sharp whine flows out of Chrissy’s throat. Then he’s got his head back down, lapping greedily at her, messy and loud and needing this every bit as much as she does. When he begins to fuck her on his fingers, curling them in a comehither motion as he pulls back, Chrissy wails. Both her hands are in his hair now, little fingers gripping tight as she rocks against him, with him, thighs shivering and knees jumping.
“It’s good, it’s good, it’s good,” she chants, sounding utterly broken. She’s a slick mess around his fingers, across his face, and it’s fucking glorious. “Oh God, Eddie, oh God, it’s so good, it’s so good –”
“Can’t believe he didn’t do this,” Eddie mutters darly. “Swear to God, Chrissy, I’d live here if you let me.” Then licks up her, wet and slurping, and Chrissy Cunningham cums like a rocket launching off. She screams, high and shocked and overwhelmed, body clenching hard before pulsing around his fingers. Eddie groans, cursing under his breath before he pulls his fingers free and thrusts his tongue inside her.
“Ed-die –” she wails, clawing at the back of his head, his neck, his shoulders. Her thighs clamp around his head and shit, she is really strong. Eddie figures if this is how he goes out, then hell yeah, because it’s the most metal death he can think of. Dying between Chrissy Cunningham’s thighs while she creams on his tongue. Hail Satan, indeed.
Chrissy falls back with a sob, legs jerking and head thumping against the mirror. But she keeps him pressed between her legs, hips pressing desperately against his mouth as she spasms. All at once she goes limp, and Eddie can hear again – the gasping hitch of her breaths, the slick glide of his tongue inside her, his own heavy breathing. Pulling away slowly, he rubs his face into her one last time, shivering as he noses her clit.
Rising up, he presses hands on either side of her, caging her in as he settles his hips between her thighs. “Good lesson?” he asks.
Shuddering, Chrissy’s head bobs jerkily. “Y-yeah,” she gets out. “I – I – Eddie, holy shit.”
Grinning, he curls his hand around the back of her neck and kisses her. She laps the taste of herself off his lips, sucks his tongue into her mouth, and Eddie almost fucking dies right there. Working an arm under her back, he presses her tight against him and lifts her up. He grinds against her, and falling to cup her ass.
“Can I fuck you?” he begs, lifting his head to stare down at her. “Please, baby? I want to feel you do that all over my cock, Chrissy.”
She nods again, a breathy little “Uh-huh,” on her mouth. Eddie has literally no idea how this is happening to him, how this is real, but he is so fucking grateful for it. But then she slides a hand onto his chest, one little palm pressing firmly. “But I – wait, though –”
Whimpering, Eddie pulls himself back. He’s shivering, neck straining as he jerks his gaze to the wall behind the bathtub and stares a hole through it. “Okay,” he pants. “Okay, yes. Okay. I can stop, I can –”
“No, don’t stop,” Chrissy says, and when he looks back to her there’s desperation on her face. Her legs hitch around his hips, tightening hard. “I just – I just want to do that to you. What you did to me. With – with my mouth.”
White noise fills his head. For a moment, Eddie just stares at her.
“You want to give me a blowjob?” he finally asks, high and strangled.
Her head nods eagerly.
“I will –” Blowing out a thin breath through his nose, Eddie tries to apply reason to a moment where it no longer seems to exist. But he really is having an existential crisis here. “Chrissy, I would be fucking honored to have your mouth on my dick, but I will cum pretty much immeditely. And that means I can’t fuck you.”
Ducking her head down shyly, Chrissy reaches up and tugs a little at the guitar pick around his neck. “Yeah, but,”she says, looking up at him from under her bangs. “We can fuck later though, right?”
“Yes,” he chokes out, bobbing his head frantically. “Jesus Christ, yes, Chrissy. Whenever you want. Anytime you want. Literally, I will –”
Laughing, Chrissy presses forward and kisses him. It’s the nicest shut up Eddie’s ever gotten, if he’s being honest. Releasing his necklace, Chrissy runs her hand down his chest. His stomach jumps when she touches it, and he moans into her mouth when she scrapes her nails through the topmost part of the trail of hair that rises above his jeans. Then her fingers are at his belt, tugging at the leather with clever fingers. Eddie can’t even help her. He’s frozen, hands spasming on her back and neck.
He breaks the kiss with a hissing groan when she gets his button open and fly half undone in one slick move – holy shit, Chrissy is good at this – and slides her hand inside the denim. She curls her palm against him through the fabric of his boxers, and Eddie realizes this is going to be a whole ass religious experience.
“Are you okay?” she asks, a worried little line appearing between her eyebrows.
Eddie nods jerkily. “I’m fine,” he chokes out. “Please don’t stop, Chrissy.”
Grinning even as her head ducks down again, She presses against his chest again. “You’ve got to let me move, Eddie.”
He stumbles back, watching as she slides easily off the counter. She reaches for him with her other hand as well, working his fly the rest of the way down as his shoulders hit the wall. She releases him to push them down, jeans and boxers alike, and Eddie locks his jaw and knees alike.
Chrissy drops down, on her knees in front of him, and thank God he didn’t actually die between her legs or he wouldn’t get to see this. She curls her hand around him, lip catching her bottom teeth as she rests her other hand against his hip. Then she looks up at him, opens her mouth, and licks him from base to tip. Eddie’s head smacks back against the wall so hard he sees stars, or maybe that’s just because she’s sucking him into her mouth, now. Past those gloss sticky lips, already all messy from his mouth, over a wet pink tongue, in between soft cheeks.
“Christ,” he spits out, hands spasming. “Can I – can I touch your head? Your hair?”
“Mmhmm,” she hums, reaching for right hand and pulling it to the back of her head. Eddie threads his fingers into the strands gratefully, tugging ever so gently. Chrissy hums a second time, lips curling just so over her teeth as she smiles up at him.
And then – like something out of goddamn Hustler or something – Chrissy slowly drops her head down. She sucks his cock further and further back as she goes, drawing up for a moment and falling back even further, deeper each time. Eddie gasps like a fish out of water, shoulders lurching up towards his eyes as he strains to not just nut immediately. And it’s not just that it’s Chrissy doing this – which would honestly be enough on its own – but she is freakishly good at this. Like, he didn’t know blowjobs like this actually existed, freakishly good at this.
“Oh fuck,” he whimpers, pulling softly at her hair. “Oh God, Chrissy, do you not – do you not have a gag –”
Ever so slightly, she shakes her head. And then she takes him right down to the base – she gags a little at first, so actually that reflex is still somewhat there, and Eddie shudders from hairline to toe. She settles immediately, pulling in a breath through her nose before pulling off him, hand swiftly following her mouth.
She then proceeds to give him the best blowjob in the history of blowjobs, ever, and no, he is not just being biased. Maybe a little. It’s fucking perfect though, messy and needy in a way Eddie dreamed about but never actually expected her to be, like she loves doing this, and loves that it’s him, and –
It doesn’t take long before he’s gritting his teeth and banging the flat of his hand against the wall beside him. “Jesus Christ, this is – amazing, you’re perfect, oh my God – you suck cock like a dream, Chrissy, like a goddamn angel – I have never, never, never – goddamn it, oh fuck, goddamn it, Chrissy, I’m gonna, I’m gonna –”
He tries to pull her away, pulling harder at her hair than he ever dared before. She sort of growls at him, this low gurgle in the back of her throat as she gives him a sharp little glare. Defiance looks good on her, especially when she’s drooling out the sides of her mouth and has half his cock in her mouth. She takes him right back down to the base again, spit-wet palm slapping against his thigh and hanging on tightly.
Every muscle in Eddie’s body pulls hard and tight, and the tendons in his neck and arms strain, and it feels like he’s going to die of pleasure. “Cum in your mouth,” he groans tightly. “Cum in your – fucking – mouth, Chrissy –”
She whines around him, almost, but not quite gagging, and Eddie orgasms with such force he thinks he may be paralyzed when it’s over. The hand in her hair goes tight, his other fist bangs against the wall, and he curls over her head with prolonged groan. It trails off into heaving gasps, and Eddie trembles violently.
“Chrissy – Chrissy, fuck,” he manages to get out, blinking spots from hsi vision. “Baby, Chrissy, I’m gonna – I’m gonna fall –”
She pops off his cock with a gagging laugh. But she leans back as he topples onto his ass, slinging her legs over his thighs and wrapping her arms around his neck. Eddie buries his face in her neck and hugs her tightly, lost and glowing with awe and pleasure. “Holy shit, baby,” he whispers. “Holy shit, that was amazing.”
“Yeah,” she laughs. “It was, wasn’t it? All of it.”
“All of it,” he agrees fervently, pulling back and kissing her. She tastes like him, salty and tangy, and he moans and tangles his hands up in her hair. “God, Chrissy, please say we can do that again.”
Giggling, she pulls back and gives him a bright grin, still a little shy on the edges but utterly beaming. “I mean, I bet you’ve still got a lot to teach me.”
“I do,” he nods, dragging his hands down her back and onto her hips. “I really do. I think you’ve got a few things to teach me too, though.”
*
Eddie doesn’t sneak out. He just leaves quietly, avoiding the messy drunks as best as possible. If he’s grinning like a loon, well, they’re not going to remember it in the morning. Outside, he throws his head back and winks at the moon, half tempted to howl like a wolf. It feels like he’s going to burst out of his skin.
He parked down the street, and he whistles Mr. Crowley as he walks to it. Jerking the door open, he jumps inside, dropping his lunchbox behind the console. Digging his keys out of his pocket, he cranks the engine on and turns his music down a little, so it’s more a background hum and not a scream. It’s five, maybe ten minutes before the passenger side door jerks open, and Chrissy crawls inside. She’s got a bag with her, the one she packed to spend the night at Jessica’s house, and her sweater is inside out and backwards.
Laughing, Eddie points at her shirt. “You, uh – Chrissy, your shirt –”
“What?” Blinking, she drops onto the seat and looks down at herself. She blinks blankly for a moment, before she flames with a blush and slaps a hand over her eyes. “Oh my God, no wonder Jess kept winking at me!”
“Wow, baby, good work. What’s Jason going to say when he finds out?”
Cocking her head to the side, Chrissy gives his joking comment seemingly serious consideration. Reaching out, she slams the van door shut, before falling against the seat and giving him a smug smile.
“You know what?” she asks. “I don’t think I really care.”
“Hell yeah,” he says, throwing the van into gear and pulling away from the curb. “Teenage rebellion looks good on you, Chrissy.”
Still laughing, Chrissy holds her fingers up at the sides of her head in a clear imitation of Eddie. (She has been watching him, hasn’t she?) Her tongue unfurls in a long pink line before she chirps, all cheerleader and soda pop sweet, “Hail Satan!”
And Eddie? Eddie knows he’s in love.