Chapter Text
They’re both awake in his bed, but pretending to be asleep. Chrissy’s back is pressed against Eddie’s chest, his mouth on her neck, one hand squeezing a covered breast and the other somehow beneath her underwear, cupping the wet heat between her thighs.
Both of are them frozen, neither one of them fully able to acknowledge the line they are skirting. And there is a massive fucking line.
Clearly, falling asleep together fully clothed was not the deterrent Eddie had expected it to be. Granted, Chrissy’s pj’s basically consist of just his faded Metallica t-shirt and nothing else besides underwear, and maaaybe , as he’d explained to her last night - you know, like a liar - he usually just slept in his raggedy ol’ boxers and that would certainly be enough to keep them from crossing that line like a pair of depraved animals. Right…
But still, if Eddie had to explain how they ended up here, he thinks the answer is pretty simple: he can’t keep his hands off of her because even with their clothes still on , no one has ever made him feel this fucking good before…
OR this much like a complete utter strung-out piece-of-shit before- like he’s gonna crawl out of his skin and run screeching pathetically into the black ether like some sort of a fucking Ring Wraith if he can’t touch her - if he can’t even be near her - every minute of every single day for the rest of time.
She’s the fucking Ring of Power.
But, of course, it’s even more fucked up than anything good ol’ J.R.R. Tolkien could come up with because Chrissy has a boyfriend. And not just any boyfriend - The Boyfriend . The King Shit boyfriend. Jason Carver.
The Dark Lord he may not be, but he does have some sort of siren hold over Chrissy that Eddie just can’t understand and frankly, doesn’t even want to try and grasp.
Because, even though Chrissy’s been ditching Carver after games to mess around in the back of Eddie’s trashy van for months now, letting him mark her up and come all over the pristine green and white folds of her cheer skirt, spluttering and red-faced…
And even though she sneaks out of her parent's house in the middle of the night, just to crash with him in his bed - in his clothes - and whisper into his neck that she loves him, causing his crusty ol’ heart to seize up and his dick to get hard as fucking steel…
Chrissy and Jason are still together.
That is the first of two important facts that haven’t changed: “The Golden Couple”, with their gleaming flaxen hair and matching purity rings are still shining atop Hawkin’s High School social hierarchy and Eddie is…
Well, Eddie is The Side-Piece, trailing in Chrissy’s wake like a pathetic puppy, always waiting for her to shoot him that look as they pass each other in the hall between fifth and sixth period, that says, Meet me at the picnic table in five minutes and I’ll let you eat me out until I can’t see straight. Or something to that effect.
And he does. Of course, he does. It’s Chrissy fucking Cunningham and she’s the fucking One Ring To Rule Them All.
He’s completely under her control, he’s not going to try and resist her pull, not when it ends up with her giving him a sloppy wet handy in the janitors closet that makes him choke on his own tongue before Lunch or any of the other dirty-sweet scenarios Chrissy cooks up in her mind at the top of the cheer pyramid and performs on his eager body under the bleachers in the frozen dirt, the cheers and buzzers going off around them drowning out their desperate moaning.
He’s her side-piece. He’s an object. He’s hers. She loves him. Well, a sort of love, he guesses. This might be fucked up but, honestly, it doesn’t bother him as much as fact number two:
Chrissy’s saving herself for Jason Carver. Or marriage. Whichever. Both. The point is, the Golden Couple is going to get married after graduation in the eyes of God, and Chrissy’’s gonna give her virginity to that fucking Choad, which is neatly symbolized by the tacky fucking gold-plated purity ring Carver gifted her in front of the entire school - and Eddie’s fucking gobsmacked, incredulous, sickly-green face - during this year’s Sex-Education assembly.
And that means that Eddie can’t cross that line with her even though she sleeps in his bed every fucking night with her pert ass tucked up against him - her dripping wet pussy radiating heat so close to where they both need her, rubbing against the aching head of his cock as it starts to leak globs of come and his whole body starts shaking against hers in an attempt to stave off the inevitable: a desperate jerking stab against the barrier between them - of her underwear - of The Boyfriend - of her virginity - of her heart - that Eddie can never get past. Ever.
Eddie has been telling himself he is fine with the way things are between them - sneaking around behind Carver’s back, not acknowledging each other at school, their relationship - if you could call it that - a mere conglomeration of stolen moments of physical desperation that all added up to…Horniness? Affection? Or something in its vicinity?
That he was fine with the way it felt when Chrissy hastily pushes him off of her in panic and - disgust? - as they chance nearer and nearer that line, stopping them before they tumbled over into something they couldn’t handle, rolling away from him and curling in on herself as if trying to hide from his shameless insistent wanting of more - more - please, please.
Like he would force her. Like, she thinks she has to be cautious of herself around him. Like she is scared she’ll push him too far.
That there is nothing wrong when Eddie banishes himself to the bottom corner of the bed, after making her come hard enough to curl her toes, to jack off alone into his hand - or sometimes onto her bare white thigh - if she lets him - his heart beating hard with anxiety, and his throat swallowing against a growing knot of bitter tears clogging up his airway and stinging his eyes.
That it is a good thing when she turns them away from something that is too real. Something that will throw into relief the massive lie they were both fooling themselves into believing -That this will work - That this is a real relationship.
Is this love?
He comes harder than he ever has with anyone else - even clothed - even those times when Chrissy will let him close but won’t let him kiss her - even with a foot of distance between them in the bed - with his own cold hand shoved down the front of his pants and pumping around his cock, their warm panting breathes mingling together and the smell of her strawberry shampoo lingering in his nostrils when he breathes in.
It doesn’t matter in those moments, how desperately pathetic and depraved it makes him to keep going back for the mere glimpse of a feeling he can never fully have.
One that makes him feel bigger than life - big enough to get himself out of his shithole life, big enough to consider that maybe he was talented enough that he could make it out in L.A., big enough to protect Chrissy from Jason and her fucking bitch of a Mother, big enough to believe he is fucking worth something - and yet also makes him feel smaller than he has ever felt…
Smaller even than the feeling of being left behind at the age of eight with an Uncle he’d only met once in his life, watching his Mother drive away in her rustbucket piece-of-crap car and abandoning him for good this time, knowing that there would be no second chances if he promised to really behave - that he wouldn’t call the cops all scared when she passed out from the alcohol and he couldn’t wake her up - that he wouldn’t wear short sleeve shirts anymore so his teacher wouldn’t see the bruises and call child services.
Maybe even smaller than the feeling of knowing somewhere deep in his gut that the reason all the people he loved kept leaving him was that he was worth shit.
So Eddie will never ask her to do something she doesn’t want to do even when every part of him is screaming to plow forward and sprint across that line and FUCK Carver with a fucking chainsaw and FUCK Purity Rings and FUCK anything that keeps them apart - any and all the barriers. Even if it’s Chrissy’s own heart that’s keeping him out.
But if he could, he would have done it by now.
She won’t let him come in her cunt. Or her heart.
And, God, he’s so fucking desperate for a feeling he barely understands that he finally knows what it feels like to be a junky like his Dad, all needy and strung-out with nowhere to go but back to the dregs. Back to prison.
But despite that, Eddie will never ask her why she promised herself to Jason if she loves him .
Because Eddie knows why. He knows. It’s because it's him.
“Chrissy”, he groans, and he can’t tell if he is pleading with her or warning her he is too far gone. But he keeps going anyways, pulling at himself with almost vicious abandon until he spills into his own hand under Chrissy’s shy watchful gaze.
He is still alone sitting on the corner of the bed.
It is love if he decides it is love. If he decides to ignore everything else.
So, after barely cleaning himself up, he tugs her body back down to the edge of the bed and hooks his fingers in the waistband of the panties she is somehow still wearing, ready to prove to her and to himself that he still has something more to give her.
“What are you doing?” she asks breathlessly, biting down on her lip.
“What do you think I’m doing?” He answers like a smart-ass, ducking down to lick a wet stripe up the inside of her trembling thigh. “I’m loving you,” he chokes off by finally burying his face fully into her cunt, too scared to look up into her eyes and see what he might find - the resistance he knows is probably there.
He doesn’t find it in himself to care at this moment, as he pulls a long whimper and shuddering orgasm from her reluctant body with his relentless tongue and provocative words.
He knows there’s something wrong with him - that there’s something wrong with this whole goddamn thing - but he just doesn’t give a fuck.
The little bit of her she lets him have has to be enough.
It is enough.
Yet here they are in his bed - pretending - Eddie’s massive erection poking through his flimsy-excuse-for-boxers to throb painfully against Chrissy’s ass and his big hand on her hot cunt, as he holds her close and tries to keep his breathing deep and even as he can so as to not spook her when he feels her begin to soak herself underneath his fingers - her body getting her ready.
Jesus Christ.
Chrissy lets out a soft huff, her hips canting back and beginning to subtly push themselves harder against his cock and he begins to nose at the nape of her neck gently, trying to signal to her that, Yes, he’s here. Yes, he is awake.
Eddie knows she is too, but whether or not she decides to acknowledge that is just another part of this dance toward the line that she likes to play with him.
And the line is very very close now.
Most of the time Chrissy doesn’t like the edge to be so clear. Usually, Eddie finds himself at war with his body's instincts and constantly hovering over her in a show of taut control, watching her while she pushes him closer and closer and then pulls away when he can’t reign himself in like the stupid fucking idiot he is.
But somehow tonight is different because she turns her head slightly in his direction and shifts against him in such a provocative way, with the soft roll of her body against his fucking raging hard-on that it almost seems like she might…?
Might what? - you fucking asshole!!
“Do you want me to…?” Chrissy asks him, gnawing nervously on her bottom lip. And Eddie doesn’t even know what the fuck that means…
He swallows hard, gulping in an embarrassingly ragged breath that rattles around in his chest and does absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. Is this some kind of test? Is she playing with him again??
“No,” the word coming out stilted and uneven, his voice nearly failing him. “Let’s sleep. I-I just want to hold you,” Eddie murmurs in the shell of her ear, telling himself that he can handle this - that he can let this moment spool out between them and not act on it and it doesn’t have to mean anything if he doesn’t want it to.
Eddie knows that Chrissy doesn’t want this with him, that’s been made very clear by her behavior and he doesn’t think he can trust the offer she’s making to him when they’re like this - close, in the dark, facing away from each other and unable to think clearly - when everything is heady and secretive - unreal, like a dream.
She would never make the same offer to him in the daylight when he could look her straight in the eye. Hell - she fucking struggles to look him in the eye sometimes even when they keep things PG!
If he took advantage of her weakness right now, the way his wildly beating heart wants him so desperately to do - to take this one thing from her - to take this one thing away from Carver - that will always and forever be his ….he’d lose her. He’d hurt her. He’d be a fucking asshole and he needs to get a grip.
This is never going to end the way he needs it to and he’s alright with that. He has to be alright with it. Carver can brand Chrissy with his fucking Purity Ring but Eddie has Chrissy in his bed, every night, telling him she loves him. And that’s enough.
He has to decide this for both of them. No.
Eddie delicately tries to move back from the sweet roll of her hips, grunting in painful frustration as he does the one thing his body doesn’t want him to do.
But Chrissy doesn’t seem content with this, humming questioningly and burying herself further into Eddie’s arms, wiggling until his cock slips between her silky thighs and his aching tip - now beginning to leak pre-come - starts to prod at the barrier of her wet panties.
His hand is still right there on her cunt - with just one finger he could push it aside and sink in and -
The line. The goddamn line!
Eddie jerks against her in quivering surprise, his bare-knuckled control practically in shreds at Chrissy’s feet, and smashes his nose harshly into her shoulder blade, taking in a shallow breath when he feels Chrissy’s cold hand press against his at her cunt, removing the last barrier between them herself and abruptly spearing herself on his dick.
“Chrissy, fuck,” he groans, unconsciously doing exactly what his libido is screaming at him to do, using his own girth to stretch her open and then -
Eddie slides his cock inside her warmth. Finally. All the way, to the hilt. It’s all too easy, no resistance - no more barriers or lines, only - wetness.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
His mouth falls open and his eyelids flicker closed in pleasure, his mind going completely blank. - he stills. A different moment than he expected spools out.
He’s never been inside her before. Stupid fucking thought. But it’s so monumental he feels frozen under its weight. He’s her first. Eddie Munson is Chrissy Cunningham’s first. Holy Fucking Fuck. No matter what happens between them, from this moment everything has changed.
His dark bedroom is silent save for their harsh tandem breathing and hammering hearts.
“ Holy fuck, you feel so good,” Eddie breaks the silence, panting heavily against her shoulder, overwhelmed by the line they just crossed. Incomprehensible emotions begin to roil in his chest. He feels a little nauseous, despite being out of his head with a sick kind of joy. You goddamn sick fuck, he thinks.
Please don’t let her regret this.
“So good,” Chrissy agrees, like she heard his unsaid desperate plea, her voice a little too thin for his liking, her shoulders trembling against his sweaty chest almost imperceptively - but not to him. All of a sudden he wants to cry - wants to tell her - wants her to know that - he loves - “You can move now,” she informs him matter-of-factly, interrupting the beginnings of his emotional spiral. Right.
Eddie gulps back his emotions and moves to pull Chrissy closer, hugging her tight to him - trying to keep both of them together at this moment. He’s just holding her. They’re just cuddling, he tells himself. But he can feel her getting even wetter - if that’s possible , he thinks wildly - around him and so he puts his hand on her hip and pulls out, then immediately surges back in.
She arches her back. It’s beautiful.
“ Eddie,” Chrissy gasps at the feeling, her sharp nails digging into Eddie’s hand. “Do it again ,” she begs him. He allows her another thrust. And another.
“Jesus Christ, you’re soaked,” he groans, letting their clutching hands still covering her cunt begin to move together, his rough fingers finding the ridge of her clit and rubbing firmly, praying to God or Satan or whoever is listening that he can make her come with his cock inside her so at least she won’t regret this later. “So hot, and tight…,” Eddie babbles against the pleasure and mounting fear.
Please don’t let her regret this.
He can feel the cool metal of Jason Carver’s Purity Ring on her small hand pressing down against his skin as his fingers move through the swollen lips of her pussy and circle around her aching clit, and his cock drives harder and harder into her as Eddie chases his own pleasure and pushes her closer and closer to a new edge - a new line.
Chrissy buries her face in the pillow in front of her, “Please, don’t stop,” she moans deeply, her inner walls starting to clench down on him.
He doesn’t.