Chapter Text
Late December 1986
Chrissy reads while Eddie listens to Megadeth, sitting in between his legs on his bed with her back to his chest, and it’s very much not a weird way to spend their night together. Well, it’s sort of weird that Eddie has been listening to Peace Sells on repeat for the past half hour, but apparently, it’s a key step in his process of learning to play a song (must be a musician thing), so Chrissy doesn’t question his logic. Really, it’s nice that they can just be together. They don’t have to constantly be talking or checking in on each other, but can simply exist in unison, each doing their own thing while still drawing comfort from the other’s presence.
Although, Eddie might be a bit too aware of her presence at the moment, based on how his hands creep up Chrissy’s sides under her sweater, sliding gently around her waist. “I take it you’re finished with Megadeth for today?” she asks, flipping the page in her book.
“Keep reading, I’ll keep myself quiet and entertained back here,” Eddie says as Chrissy shivers slightly from the metallic chill of his rings against her skin. He runs his palms a few times up the sides of her waist, before moving to trace the notches of her spine with one finger. After a few passes up and down the length of her back, he makes a strange noise, something between a gasp of surprise and like he’s just choked on his own spit.
“I thought you were supposed to be keeping quiet?” Chrissy teases, poking Eddie in the leg.
Eddie is oddly stiff behind her. “Chrissy, are you not wearing a bra?” he asks, a faint hint of strain catching in his words.
Chrissy feels not just her face, but her whole body break out into a flush. She closes her book and picks at her nail polish (a dark blue colour, almost black, to Eddie’s delight) while she steels up her courage to answer Eddie’s question. “Um, no. Most of my bras fit really tight now so they’re really uncomfortable to wear. I really need to get some new ones, but I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.” Going up a cup size had been an unexpected repercussion of her recovery program, and she’s not yet sure how she feels about her slightly larger chest. This is something she probably shouldn’t be ignoring, but it’s easy enough to pretend that it’s not an issue when all she likes to wear in the winter months are oversized sweaters that hide her figure.
“And you didn’t think that was something I would want to know about?” Eddie asks incredulously.
Chrissy can’t help but laugh at how offended Eddie sounds that she kept this habit of hers a secret. “Should I just announce to you every time I show up to your place without a bra on, then?” she asks, sarcastic smile in place as she turns to meet Eddie’s gaze. Her breath hitches at the heated look in his big brown eyes.
Eddie’s voice is almost pained now. “You’ve done it multiple times?” His hands at Chrissy’s sides grip her tightly, holding her in place so that only her back makes contact with his body. She has the sudden urge to press herself fully against Eddie, so that there’s not even an inch of space left between them.
“I thought you noticed and just didn’t say anything!” Chrissy exclaims, flushing an even deeper shade of red.
“Did you want me to notice?” Eddie asks, his voice going sort of raspy like it sometimes does after a Corroded Coffin show. Chrissy never understood what romance authors meant when they wrote about seeing lust in someone’s gaze, but now, with the way Eddie is looking at her, she thinks she might finally get it.
“Maybe I did,” Chrissy admits quietly. Her body still feels like it’s on fire, but now she’s not sure if it’s from lingering feelings of embarrassment or from the way Eddie’s looking at her, his desire plainly written in the way his eyes trail slowly down her body.
Eddie leans in to speak lowly in Chrissy’s ear, sending shivers down her spine. “And now that I’ve noticed, what do you want me to do about it?”
“I...” Chrissy falters under the intensity of Eddie’s gaze. He always seems so at ease when their conversations take a more sexual turn, so unambiguous and unashamed about his desires, while Chrissy can barely form a sentence. Whether it’s from the years of purity culture teachings at church, her unfulfilling sexual past with Jason, her continuing issues with body image and how that relates to her relationship with sex, or from a combination of everything, she wishes she could be half as brave as Eddie when it comes to sharing this side of herself.
Eddie appears to sense her hesitation, catching on quickly to the inner conflict waging in her mind. “Maybe you could show me, if that’s easier,” he suggests, and Chrissy feels her stomach tighten at the thought. She doesn’t trust her voice to respond without sounding embarrassingly flustered, so she just nods.
“You could turn back around too, if that would make you feel more comfortable,” Eddie adds, his hands a scorching source of heat against Chrissy’s waist.
Chrissy nods again and shifts so that she’s fully facing away from Eddie once more. Her cheeks flush again (she really can’t stop blushing tonight) at Eddie’s faint hiss from the way she’s moving around between his legs.
“Show me what you want, Chris,” Eddie repeats. He was right – she does feel more at ease with just the sound of his voice to focus on. Taking a deep breath, she places her hand on top of Eddie’s and guides it up past her waist, past the bottom of her rib cage where Eddie usually stops whenever they make out. Though her breasts are slightly larger than they were in the past, Eddie’s hand still spans one’s entire width, the heat from his palm bleeding into her skin. He holds his hand there for a few seconds before gently stroking back and forth with his thumb. Chrissy lets out a ragged exhale when he brushes experimentally over her nipple.
Eddie takes her cue to continue to tease her nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers until it’s hardened. Chrissy feels her head fall back onto Eddie’s shoulder as his other hand does the same to her other breast.
“Do you like it when I do this to you?” Eddie asks in between heated kisses to her neck, hands still massaging her breasts. Chrissy nods frantically against his shoulder. She hadn’t anticipated how turned on she would be from such a seemingly tame action – Jason used to feel her up all the time when they were together and it rarely did anything for her. But something in Eddie’s touch makes her feel like a live wire, electricity pulsing all throughout her body to meet at the juncture of her thighs. She lets out another sharp exhale at the thought of Eddie touching her there.
Eddie’s words vibrate against her skin. “What else do you want, gorgeous?”
Showing, rather than telling, has seemed to work out pretty well for the two of them so far tonight, so Chrissy takes Eddie’s hand again, dragging it down her body. At the waistband of her leggings, she pauses for just a second, before slipping their conjoined hands into her leggings, underneath her underwear. Gripping Eddie’s fingers, she positions them just right so that when he circles them, he’ll catch the spot that makes her squirm, the one the girls on the cheer squad called the clit. After Eddie has the rhythm down, she slips her hand back out and rests it on Eddie’s thigh.
“Is this what you do at night when you’re by yourself?” Eddie asks, somehow still able to carry on a conversation while both hands are busy touching places that send sparks through Chrissy’s veins. He groans when she nods again, eyes fluttering closed from the pleasure coursing through her body. “God, I wish I could watch you. Not in like a weird, voyeuristic kind of way, like, you’d be okay with it, obviously,” Eddie says. She can tell he’s turned on from the hardness pressing insistently into her back, and it makes her pulse race. “What do you think about when you touch yourself?” he asks.
Chrissy shuts her eyes tightly as she feels her limbs turn to liquid fire. Her words come easier now, mind too focused on the delicious pressure of Eddie’s hands to feel awkward. “You, doing this to me. And other stuff too,” she admits, voice breathy and ragged.
“Ooh, other stuff. Sexy,” Eddie teases, but Chrissy can feel how he presses himself more tightly against her body at her admission, like he just can’t help himself. His next words are practically a whisper. “Do you make yourself come like this?”
The sound of Eddie’s voice must be like an aphrodisiac or something, because Chrissy has never felt this out of control when she touches herself late at night in the privacy of her own bed. Eddie’s hand hasn’t moved beyond her clit, but she can sense a slickness building between her legs that’s only happened once or twice when she’d really let herself fantasize before getting herself off. “Uh-huh,” she manages to say, though it sounds more like a moan.
“Fuck, Chris, that’s so fucking hot,” Eddie says, almost moaning too, right in her ear. “Tell me if you’re getting close, okay?”
“I am,” Chrissy breathes out, the tell-tale shaking of her thighs and almost painful throb between her legs signalling the imminent onslaught of pleasure she gets when she comes.
“What do you need?” Eddie asks, hands moving insistently against her clit and her breast.
Chrissy inhales sharply when Eddie circles his fingers just right. “Just like that. Don’t stop, please,” she all but pleads, too far gone to care if it sounds like she’s begging.
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie groans again, but he doesn’t stop, especially when she can no longer contain her panting, each breath ending in a tiny moan. “Come on Chris, come for me, baby,” Eddie says into her ear, and it’s this in combination with a rough swipe of her clit and a tug to her nipple that send her over the edge, her fingernails digging into Eddie’s thigh as her whole body tenses in a swirl of bliss. She all but falls against Eddie as pleasure washes over her in waves.
“Holy shit, Chrissy,” Eddie says as he brings his hands back to her waist and buries his face in her hair. “Was that just as good as you imagined?”
Chrissy turns her head to meet Eddie’s gaze, trying to hold on to the feeling of boldness that emerged as she succumbed to the sensations brought on by her boyfriend’s touch. “Better”.
Eddie kisses her then, his mouth heavy and demanding. The angle isn’t ideal, Chrissy’s back still against Eddie’s chest, but she manages to shift around so that she’s facing him without breaking their kiss. Eddie slides his hands into her hair, groaning as she straddles the tops of his thighs, pressing herself against the bulge in his jeans. It sort of blows her mind that all of the action has been so focused on her, yet Eddie is obviously turned on. She’s overwhelmed with the sudden urge to feel him, to see and hear his reaction when she touches him, just like he did with her. Still kissing like they’re each other’s source of air, Chrissy slides her hands down Eddie’s chest.
Eddie grips her wrists as she reaches his belt buckle, pulling away from her lips with a huff of air. “Chris, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to. But I want to,” Chrissy replies, looking up at Eddie through her eyelashes.
“Well, that’s pretty solid logic. Normally I could probably come up with a half-decent counterargument if I had any blood flow to my brain, but here we are,” Eddie attempts to joke, but he can’t hide the rapid rise and fall of his chest and how his eyes sort of glaze over with naked desire. It sends a thrill through Chrissy’s body to know that she’s the reason he looks that way, a slight aching sensation building where Eddie touched her earlier at the realization.
“If you really don’t want me to, I won’t,” Chrissy says reassuringly. There’s no way she would ever do anything that Eddie wasn’t completely on board with, but secretly she hopes that he’ll say yes.
Eddie sighs shakily. “Chrissy, I’ve been dreaming of you jerking me off for months. I think it’s safe to say I want you to.”
That’s all Chrissy needs to hear before they’re kissing again, all tongues and teeth and Eddie’s hands held tightly in her hair. Her hand drops past Eddie’s belt buckle to stroke him through the rough denim of his jeans, Eddie swearing into her mouth at her movements.
The phone rings as Chrissy moves back to Eddie’s belt, unbuckling it and pulling it through the loops of his jeans. “Ignore it,” he mumbles against her lips. Once his belt is unbuckled, Chrissy works on undoing Eddie’s button and zipper, phone still ringing in the background. The apartment finally goes silent as she slips her hand into Eddie’s unbuttoned jeans and under his boxers, the only sound Eddie’s groans vibrating into her mouth.
A voice filters in from down the hall as Eddie’s answering machine clicks on. “Hey Eddie, it’s Shelby. Just wondering if Chrissy is there with you? I thought she’d be home by 10 but she isn’t back yet. Call me back when you get this, please?”
Chrissy yanks her hand out of Eddie’s pants and tears herself out of his lap to grab the alarm clock that sits on the nightstand next to the bed. The red numbers flash 10:20. “Shit, I was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago!” she says, unable to conceal her panic. Apparently, time really flies when you’re trying to get to second base with your boyfriend.
“I can’t believe Shelby isn’t even here and she just cockblocked me,” Eddie grumbles, flopping over on the bed and throwing a pillow over his face. “I’ll drive you home, just give me a minute to, you know, chill out,” he adds, voice muffled by the pillow.
“I’m sorry, Eddie,” Chrissy says, squeezing his hand in what she hopes is an apologetic way.
Eddie emerges from behind his pillow with a sly smile. “I guess there is a silver lining. They do say the best things in life are worth the wait, don’t they?”
Early January 1987
Chrissy can’t believe her luck – Shelby Cunningham, she of the strict curfew rules, is actually letting her stay the night at Eddie’s apartment. So what if it’s because the old couple down the street had their house broken into and Shelby is afraid for Chrissy’s safety when she’s home alone during one of Shelby’s night shifts at the hospital? Whatever the reason, she’s ecstatic. She loves falling asleep next to Eddie and waking up with their limbs tangled together like a pretzel.
Something about being in Eddie’s bed tonight makes Chrissy feel a bit more brazen than usual. Maybe it’s from the late hour, the forgiving nature of darkness lit only by the soft glow of the moon, or the fact that both she and Eddie currently share a similar lack of clothing. Whatever the reason, she doesn’t hesitate to deepen Eddie’s relatively chaste good night kiss, even though it’s already late and they both have early mornings the next day. But Eddie doesn’t protest, and soon she’s pinned beneath him as they make out, skin separated by nothing but two layers of thin cotton.
Eddie toys with the hem of the Iron Maiden T-shirt Chrissy had stolen from his dresser to wear to sleep. “How do you feel about taking this off?”
Chrissy hesitates as she pictures Eddie sliding off her shirt to reveal her bare skin. She hadn’t worn a bra to sleep in, which will leave her in nothing but a pair of pink underwear. Traitorous thoughts, ones that have been mostly lying dormant for months now rise again – her hips are too wide, her stomach isn’t toned enough, she’s too heavy for a girl of her stature. It’s enough to make her want to pull Eddie’s comforter over her head and hide.
But then Chrissy looks into Eddie’s eyes, sees fierce desire and what looks an awful lot like love reflecting back at her. Eddie is honest, sometimes to a fault, and if he had told her she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, then she supposes he probably wasn’t lying. A surge of determination rushes through her body – if she can’t be vulnerable with her boyfriend, the man she’s pretty sure she loves right back, then who the hell can she be vulnerable with?
Chrissy sits up and pulls the T-shirt off herself.
It’s hard to resist the urge to cover her breasts with her hands, to pull the sheet up to her neck. But Chrissy holds out, watching Eddie as he drinks her in. He stares at her with a reverence that one should probably save for mythical creatures or deities, and she thinks maybe this vulnerability thing isn’t so bad after all.
“Chrissy, you’re so fucking perfect. How are you even real?” Eddie asks in a way that Chrissy can only describe as awestruck.
“Eddie, I’m not –“ Chrissy starts, but Eddie shuts her up with a scorching kiss, pressing his hands tightly against her back so that her breasts push against his bare chest.
Eddie pulls away, lips kiss-swollen and hair in a mess of tangles around his head, and Chrissy thinks he’s never looked sexier. “No more of that, okay? Even if you don’t agree with me, I don’t want you saying those things about yourself.”
“Are you trying to make me cry?” Chrissy says, slightly teasing but mostly serious.
Eddie smirks, and Chrissy can’t help but press her thighs together at his expression. “Maybe for other reasons,” he says.
They kiss again, over and over, bodies pressed together so tightly Chrissy starts to lose track of where she begins and ends. Each rock of her hips sends shockwaves throughout her body as she grinds against Eddie’s hardness. No wonder so many musicians write about sex – they haven’t even made it to second base yet and Chrissy feels like her brain is short-circuiting in the best way possible.
Eddie moves from her mouth to her neck, kissing his way toward her bare breasts. “Is this okay?” he asks, before tracing a stripe across the edge of her collarbone with his tongue.
Chrissy nods, internally thanking whatever higher power who might be listening that she ended up with a boyfriend who always prioritizes her feelings over everything else. Unlike Jason, who only focused on himself and assumed that Chrissy would simply go along with it, because that’s what good girls were supposed to do.
She also can’t help but thank the Lord that Eddie is just as talented with his mouth as he is with his fingers, maybe even more so. The feeling of his lips and tongue on her breasts makes her body writhe wildly, so much so that she doesn’t notice where his hands have disappeared to until they’re gliding beneath her underwear.
Eddie’s fingers trace her slit, catching the slickness that’s been building ever since their first kiss of the night. “Fuck, Chris, can I touch you here?”
Chrissy grabs Eddie’s wrist in a panic. “Wait, Eddie, I need to tell you something.”
“What is it, angel?” Eddie asks, resting the hand that had just been in her underwear gently on her hip instead.
Damn, here comes the vulnerability again. Chrissy hides her face behind her hands, forcing her words past the back of her throat where they want to get stuck. “No one’s ever, you know, put their fingers in me. Like, properly,” she confesses, face aflame and hands shaking with nervous energy.
Eddie drops down to his side from where he’s been hovering over her, resting his head on one elbow as his other hand traces nonsensical shapes into her skin. “I thought you said that you and Carver fooled around?”
“He tried once, but it was, um, fairly unpleasant, so I never wanted him to try again,” Chrissy replies from behind her hands.
“What a fucking tool,” Eddie says, and Chrissy can’t help but laugh in agreement. “Have you ever tried, just like, a little DIY action?” he asks, twisting a piece of her hair around his finger.
If lightning struck her down right now, Chrissy thinks maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, because she is seriously beginning to regret ever starting this conversation. “I – this is so embarrassing. I’ve tried, but I can’t, um, figure out the proper angle and it doesn’t do anything for me,” she starts. She can’t look at Eddie at all or she’ll do something completely mortifying like burst into tears. “Sometimes I think, oh this is so stupid, I worry that there’s something weird about me, like, anatomically,” she spits out.
“Chrissy, I’m sure there’s nothing weird about your anatomy,” Eddie says reassuringly, the soothing tone of his voice and the topic of their conversation so at odds that she has to hold back hysterical laughter. “Sorry in advance for how fucking bizarre this is going to sound, but I would think if you can get a tampon in, which I’m pretty sure you can, you should be able to get other things up there too.”
“That’s what I thought too, but I’ve tried, multiple times! I just can’t figure it out!” Chrissy says with a huff.
“Maybe you need someone else to give it a shot? Like, maybe it would feel less weird that way?” Eddie suggests.
Chrissy finally emerges from behind her hands, but she still can’t look in Eddie’s direction, staring up at the ceiling instead. “Maybe,” she mumbles.
Eddie nudges her to look in his direction with a warm hand to her cheek. “Do you want me to try? If it hurts or if you feel uncomfortable, you can tell me, and I’ll stop right away.”
Her response is slow to come, but eventually Chrissy makes up her mind and nods. “Okay. I want you to try,” she says, voice small but still sure nonetheless.
“All right, here’s our plan,” Eddie says, sitting up in one swift movement. “Step one: get you so fucking turned on that you basically beg to have me finger you. Step two: actually finger you.” He pauses, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Step three… celebrate?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Chrissy laughs, but her nervousness is quickly fading away and something else is taking its place as Eddie describes the steps to his plan. Maybe it’s anticipation, curiosity, or maybe, to use Eddie’s ever-so-eloquent words, she’s just plain horny.
Eddie grins down at her, and her heart swells with what she’s now almost completely sure is love. “Always,” he says in agreement, leaning down to kiss her. He soon moves to her neck, sucking until she’s sure there must be a hickey there.
“Oh shit, sorry gorgeous, I should have asked if that was okay,” Eddie says.
Chrissy smiles. “I’ll just wear my hair down for the next few days until it goes away.”
Nodding, Eddie drags his mouth further down Chrissy’s body, hair tickling her skin. He spends a great deal of time on her breasts, kissing, licking, touching, even biting down at one point. By the time he moves on, Chrissy’s head is practically spinning and her underwear feels uncomfortably damp. She expects Eddie to move to step two of his grand plan, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes her hand and kisses each one of her fingertips, her palm, her wrist, all the way up to her shoulder. He does the same to her other arm, then both legs, starting at her ankle and working up to her inner thigh, and by the time he comes back up to kiss her on the mouth, Chrissy can barely breathe.
“Eddie, I think we can move to step two now,” Chrissy says. She doesn’t quite recognize the throaty tone of her voice, but she supposes she’s never had a reason to sound like this before now.
Eddie slowly pulls her pink underwear down her legs until they’re off and throws them somewhere across the room. “Holy fuck,” he whispers.
“What?” Chrissy asks, irrational fear colouring her words. Maybe she actually just got her period and it’s blood that’s making her feel so wet. Maybe she –
"I’m just trying to take this all in, you, naked, in my bed. I wish I was one of those people with a freaky photographic memory so I could always remember this exact moment,” Eddie says, relieving her sudden moment of terror.
Chrissy laughs, but it turns into a sharp gasp when Eddie runs his fingers through the slickness between her legs, circling her clit in the exact way she had showed him.
“Ready? Don’t forget to tell me right away if you want me to stop, okay?” Eddie asks, looking down at her tenderly while his hand moves sinfully between her legs.
“I’m ready,” Chrissy breathes, eyes screwing shut as Eddie finally pushes one finger inside her.
“Is this okay?” Eddie asks, and Chrissy wants to laugh because holy shit is this better than just okay. Maybe it was a good thing that she had never successfully tried this on herself, because the fact that Eddie is the first person to ever touch her in this way just seems to make perfect sense.
Chrissy nods several times until she realizes that Eddie isn’t looking anywhere near her face. “Yeah, more than okay,” she says, hands twisting tightly in the sheets underneath her. Thanks to Eddie’s plan (it really was genius), he meets almost no resistance as he moves in and out of her. She moans loudly when he rubs her clit with his thumb in tandem with the thrusts of his finger, so loudly she claps her hand over her mouth in shame.
“None of that,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “I want to hear you.”
“Okay,” Chrissy whispers, sending up a quick prayer that Eddie’s apartment has thick walls, or at least neighbours who sleep like the dead. She lays back, closes her eyes, and does her best to just let the thrill of Eddie’s touch wash over her without worrying about the intensity of her reactions. It’s too much, not enough, just right, everything all at once.
“Eddie, can you try…more?” Chrissy asks, semi-aware of how absolutely pornographic she probably sounds, but she can’t really bring herself to care anymore.
Eddie obliges immediately, cursing under his breath as he slides two fingers inside her. “God, you’re so tight,” he groans. He’s right – she feels the pressure of his fingers against her inner walls, but it doesn’t hurt, not at all, it feels good, so good. Especially when he curls his fingers just right inside her, making her eyes roll back in her head as she clutches at the sheets for dear life.
“Eddie, oh my god,” Chrissy moans. Her body takes on a mind of its own, arching to meet every thrust of Eddie’s hand, and she gasps each time he hits that electric spot inside of her.
“Are you close, baby?” Eddie asks. Chrissy just nods desperately in response, her breathing too erratic to form words. She’s starting to feel herself tighten around Eddie’s fingers, and the thought of actually finishing like this makes her whole body shake.
Just like the first time he touched her, Eddie can’t seem to control his mouth when she gets close to an orgasm. “Come on, Chris, come for me. Come all over my hand, fucking soak me,” he all but begs her, and it’s this that sends her over the edge, screaming Eddie’s name. He doesn’t let up, continuing to thrust his hand even as she clenches around him, until she has to weakly bat him away when she starts to feel a slight twinge of pain.
Chrissy sinks back into Eddie’s bed, all her limbs feeling like jelly. She hears a strange noise, then Eddie swearing to himself again, but her head is too heavy to lift up to see what he’s doing.
The bed bounces slightly as Eddie falls to his side next to her. “Well, that seems like it was a resounding success. Would you agree?” he asks, wrapping an arm affectionately around her waist.
“Definitely resounding,” Chrissy laughs tiredly. She leans in to kiss Eddie but pulls back and wrinkles her nose in confusion at the odd taste in his mouth.
Eddie gives her a sheepish look. “I wanted to know what you tasted like. Sorry?”
Chrissy thinks for a second, then pulls him back in to kiss him again, shoving her tongue into his mouth so she can taste herself too. “Not as gross as I was expecting,” she admits as she breaks away from their kiss.
“Warn a guy next time you do that,” Eddie says hoarsely. “I think I almost just came.”
“Do you want me to do that?” Chrissy asks. “Make you come, I mean.”
“Chrissy…” Eddie says, almost in a pleading way. Chrissy can’t tell whether he’s begging her to do something, or if he’s begging her not to.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me if you don’t want me to touch you,” Chrissy says, not as a command, but to offer Eddie a way out, which she highly doubts he’ll use. She’s right – Eddie looks at her, eyes wide and jaw clamped shut so tightly she worries he might crack a tooth, but he stays silent. “That’s what I thought,” she says, running a single finger down his chest toward the waistband of his boxers. “Guess let’s find out if I’m worth the wait?”
Her words set Eddie off into a burst of movement, practically ripping off his boxers and flinging them in whatever corner of the room her underwear ended up in. “You good, gorgeous?” Eddie asks, smirking at Chrissy’s wide-eyed stare at his naked form.
“Just trying to take it all in,” Chrissy says in reply, watching in amusement as Eddie’s smirk falls off his face when she delicately traces the vein running down the length of his cock with her fingertip. “You good, handsome?”
“Never better,” Eddie sighs, frowning slightly when Chrissy moves her hand away.
Chrissy spits into her hand, thinking back to overheard conversations about the cheer squad’s various sexual exploits in the girls’ locker room and how Jason always made passive-aggressive comments if she forgot to do it before touching him (he really was a fucking tool). She looks up, confused, when Eddie flops backwards on the bed with an emphatic “Fuck me” at her action.
“What’s wrong?” Chrissy asks, suddenly worried that Eddie might think what she just did was disgusting. She had assumed that this was just something every girl did before giving a hand job, but maybe it’s just her inexperience showing through.
Eddie covers his face with his hands. “I think I need to see a shrink. I must be really messed up, because there is no reason why you spitting into your own hand should be that sexy.”
Chrissy laughs, reaching up to pull Eddie hands away from his face. “Will you show me what you like?” she asks. “Like I did for you the other day.”
“Fucking hell,” Eddie grits out, but he rests his hand over hers and guides it to his cock. She follows his lead as he adjusts her grip on him, demonstrating the speed and rhythm he prefers until she takes over. He’s hot, almost feverishly so, and firmly solid under her hand.
“Is this okay?” Chrissy asks. She thinks she might understand why Eddie liked touching her so much – there’s something so intimate, almost indescribable, about the idea of someone giving you a side of them that’s as personal as how they bring themselves pleasure when no one else is around.
Eddie props himself up on his elbows, barely able to keep his eyes open. “Fuck, Chrissy, I don’t think I’m going to last more than two minutes if that tells you anything.”
Neither one can look away, staring intently into each other’s eyes as Chrissy strokes Eddie’s cock. “Fuck, Chrissy,” Eddie repeats, head falling back towards his shoulders. “So good baby, holy shit, holy fuck, Chrissy, Chrissy, Chrissy…”
Chrissy stops just long enough to crawl up Eddie’s body and kiss him, slightly concerned the neighbours might call in a noise complaint with how vocal he’s being.
“You trying to hint at something, Cunningham?” Eddie asks against Chrissy’s mouth.
“I just don’t think the whole building needs to hear us!”
“Fuck the building –” Eddie starts, whatever he’s about to say next muffled by Chrissy’s insistent kiss. She reaches her hand back, twisting and stroking as Eddie groans loudly into her mouth.
Eddie breaks from their kiss, hips thrusting into her hand uncontrollably. “Chrissy, I can’t –” he gets out before cutting himself off with a strangled gasp.
Chrissy doesn’t respond, just continues pumping until Eddie comes with an almost pained noise, spilling hotly into her hand. She lets Eddie catch his breath for a second while she reaches for a tissue to clean up the mess in her hand. “So, was it worth the wait?”
Eddie takes a minute before he can actually respond. “I don’t know how I’m ever supposed to jerk off again. You’ve ruined it for me forever.”
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As they redress and slide back under the covers with the intention of actually going to sleep this time, Chrissy smiles to herself.
Second base – check.