Chapter Text
It’s past midnight when the phone trills in the hallway, dragging Eddie reluctantly from his meditative state. He’s not in bed yet - caught up learning a new guitar riff, he didn’t notice the time passing. Still, no big deal. It’s Saturday. That means no work in the morning.
“Hello?”
He says it casually into the receiver, almost too casually for a late-night phone call. He’s expecting Wayne, maybe phoning to let him know what time he’ll be home. Asking Eddie to heat up food for him in the oven, something like that. Or maybe it’s someone looking for last-minute blow, or pot or pills. It is the weekend after all.
Life would be so much easier if he had a pager, Eddie thinks, but those things are expensive, especially now that this is barely even a part-time gig for him anymore. He still sells, now and again, as favours to people mostly. But he’s working a real job now.
“Eddie.”
The voice on the end of the line sighs out his name.
“Oh. Hey, Chris.”
She’s not who he’s expecting to hear.
While it’s not unusual for Chrissy to call him up on a Saturday night like this, it does strike him as a little weird, considering he’d spoken to her just this morning.
“Are you okay?” He wonders.
“I went to a party.”
“A party?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s good, Chris.” he says steadily.
Chrissy promised him she was going to make more of an effort this year.
When she’d come to stay with Wayne and him over Christmas, and she’d finally told him the truth about how things were, he’d made her promise. Promise that she’d try harder to make friends. To stop skipping classes and sulking in her room every night and go out and meet people instead. And hey, she is. She's joined the swim team now, something she's been saying for a while that she’s wanted to do, and she went to the party didn’t she? She’d stayed there, laughing and talking with people for what she thought was a reasonable amount of time.
“It was fun.” She tells him.
“That’s great,” Eddie says. “I’m really glad.”
The first thing she’d done on getting back to the dorms was slip her heels from her aching feet, and now she’s standing in the corridor outside her room, bare soles feeling sticky on the blue speckled vinyl. The wall-mounted phone is the only one on this floor of the building, and for once - with her hallmates already asleep or still out at parties of their own - she hasn’t had to fight to use it.
“Didn’t stay too long, though,” Chrissy continues.
“I see that.”
The party had been hosted by a girl Chrissy swims with - a sophomore student named Helen who lives just off campus in a swanky apartment financed by her lawyer parents. Chrissy hadn't known that many other people there, and a couple of months ago she perhaps would've declined Helen’s invitation. But since she's not doing that anymore, she'd gone along, and it had actually turned out not to be all the way awful.
“Did you drink?” Eddie inquires.
It’s not an accusatory question. Chrissy’s a big girl. She can do what she pleases, and, unlike some people she can think of, she knows that Eddie knows that.
“I had three wine coolers.”
Eddie chuckles at this, deep and breathy in her ear.
“How were they?”
“A lot better than beer.”
“I can imagine.”
He’s talking to her in that mildly amused tone he reserves for when he's humoring her over something - the one that can come off a tiny bit patronizing. It can also be extremely hot, if he uses it right. And today he is.
“I miss you.”
She says it quietly, toeing at the grimy floor.
Slipping away from the party early really hadn’t been a part of Chrissy’s plan, but after sinking a few of those coolers Helen supplied, she'd started to feel a little… flushed. All drinking makes her miss Eddie, but wine, she'd discovered this evening, has a slightly different effect on her than the other alcohol she's tried. Beer finds her missing him in a morose, achy, listless kind of a way, but with wine - the feeling’s not so much missing as it is longing. Yes wine, it would seem, is a totally different beast.
Eddie hums in satisfaction.
“Me too. But I’ll see you soon, yeah?”
In a few weeks time it’ll be Chrissy’s birthday, and Eddie’s managed to wrangle a few days off work either side of the weekend so he can drive down to see her. Chrissy’s been thinking about it a lot. Specifically tonight. Specifically after three of those stupid, pink, fizzy wine coolers.
“Actually, that’s why I called,” she finds herself saying (the other benefit of calling Eddie so late is privacy.)
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” she murmurs, gnawing at her nails. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” She’s had enough to drink this evening that it’s made her bold, but not quite enough to quell the anxiety that’s churning around in her stomach.
“Well I’m all ears.” Eddie says.
“Is Wayne there?” Chrissy asks suddenly.
She pictures Eddie, sitting on the floor by the phone in the dark hallway of his trailer. It’s too far away from his room to drag the cord inside. If Wayne’s home, he’ll surely hear every word his nephew utters.
“Why, you wanna talk to him or something?” Eddie asks with a questioning laugh.
She rolls her eyes.
“Just answer the question.”
“No, he’s not here. He’s working tonight. Why, what’s up?”
Eddie plays with the guitar pick around his neck. He’s trying his best to sound casual, but her calling him up in the middle of the night like this… and now saying she has to talk to him about something? That’s almost never good.
“Well,” Chrissy begins, voice gone all breathy from a mixture of nerves and anticipation. She steels herself to say the words that have been floating around in her head all night - no, all week.
“When I was at the party tonight, I got to thinking…” She trails off, taking a deep breath.
“What is it?”
She can hear by his voice that he's kind of freaked out. Good, she thinks. Part of her wants this to blindside him. Maybe it’ll make things easier, if she’s the one with the upper hand.
“Chris?” He prompts her again.
Here goes nothing.
“I decided that when you come see me in February, I want you to fuck me.”
Eddie swears softly, a surge of want shooting straight through his belly. It makes his eyes flutter closed, his head drop back against the cool wall behind him.
Chrissy waits nervously for his response. She’s managed not to stutter. It’s confident - or at least, that’s how she thinks it came out of her mouth sounding.
“Shit,” he repeats, voice shaky. “Chris, I thought you were about to tell me something terrible.”
“I- huh?”
“Well I mean, you sounded so serious that -” Eddie trails off mid sentence. There’s a thought occurring to him. “Wait, hold up.”
“What?”
“Where are you phoning me from?”
Chrissy’s confused, indignant. Because this isn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. Especially not when it’s taken every ounce of courage inside of her to even be having it.
“I’m using the dorm phone,” she mumbles. “Why?”
Eddie’s grinning, she can hear it through the receiver.
“Sweetheart,” he begins. “Did you walk all the way home from the party just to tell me that?”
Chrissy’s face burns.
It really isn’t his intention to embarrass her. He’s feeling pretty in awe, actually, marvelling at the fact that not only does this girl actually want him to fuck her, but she’s apparently enthusiastic enough about it that she’d called him up just to tell him. It doesn’t feel true.
“What - no!” She says quickly, ears reddening.
Eddie’s right though, and they both know it. Drunk Chrissy can be a little one-track minded that way. This is, after all, the same girl who'd once stolen a bike and pedalled all the way to his house at midnight just to tell him Chance McGuire’s party sucked. And to give him a kiss. Yeah, Eddie knows how she operates.
“Cute of you, Chris," he says. She can tell he’s still smiling.
“I just-” she breaks off with a frustrated sigh. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m ready.” She says finally.
They both let it hang in the air for a while, weighty and significant.
When Chrissy had kissed him that night last year, it had been in the hopes of communicating to him all the things she couldn't say. Not just yet, not back then. Tonight however, there’s no bullshit. No hiding. Just the truth. She needs him to understand, and she thinks maybe he does, because then Eddie says: “And I’m very glad you did.” And it's not teasing anymore. It's earnest.
“Are you ready?” She asks him quietly. “Y’know, for us to…?”
Eddie huffs a laugh.
“Course I am.”
He says it like it’s a no-brainer and it makes Chrissy’s stomach twist. She’s horny. Just listening to Eddie’s voice - it’s always had that effect on her. She thinks back to last summer, back when they used to stay up every night on the phone. How she’d gone to bed wet and unfulfilled more times than she could count. And right now, that uncomfortable, gnawing need in the pit of her stomach is back and it’s hard to ignore.
Did you just decide today?” Eddie wonders, and Chrissy smiles softly.
“No,” she says honestly. “I’ve been thinking about it since Christmas.”
“Fuck…” he breathes.
It's true.
Baring her soul to him like that, in his van on Christmas night, when she’d told him everything. Told him the truth about how college was really going. About her parents, about the bulimia, why the school had made her see the student guidance counsellor senior year. Other things, too - things she could have never, ever imagined herself saying to someone out loud. She’d stripped herself bare in front of him. And he never flinched once.
That was what did it, in the end. The thing that made her absolutely certain he was the right one. It might’ve taken them a year to get there, a year of smoking together, a year of telling him little secrets like leaving a trail of breadcrumbs, until she was ready to drop the big one. Comparatively, though, a year wasn’t all that long. Jason, her friends - they never had a clue what was going on behind the curtain, and they’d known Chrissy much longer.
No, Eddie knows her in a different way now. More intimately. And he’s the only one who does. And that makes her want to give him every part of her.
“When did you know you wanted to fuck me?” Chrissy asks, keen to steer the conversation back on her course. Eddie’s cagey with his reply.
“Uh, I don't think I should answer that, actually.”
“Come on.” She presses him. “I wanna know.”
Eddie laughs nervously, and she hears him swallow, all thick like there’s a lump in his throat.
“Before I was allowed to, let's put it that way.”
Before she’d broken up with Jason, that’s what he means. Back before he had any business thinking about her at all.
“How long?” Chrissy persists.
She’s gripped by the conversation. The thought of Eddie thinking about her, in that way. She knows it’s probably silly - they’ve been doing this, whatever it is, for months - but still. To have something definitive, to have proof - it’s almost too much for her to process. She crosses her bare legs at the ankle, squeezing her thighs together as she twirls the phone cord around her finger.
Eddie shrugs, pulling his knees into his chest a little tighter. Now Chrissy’s the one making him feel embarrassed.
“Ever since you uh, came to me for weed. The first time.” He adds quietly.
It had been instant for him, the physical attraction. I mean, how could it not be, right? He had eyes. Besides, he doubted there was any guy in the school that hadn’t thought about it at least once.
“Since then?”
"I mean, I uh. Obviously I’d noticed you before that.” He’s quick, almost too quick to clarify. “It’s just that that’s the first time we really, y’know, talked, so.”
Chrissy’s never been dumb. She could always tell Eddie was attracted to her, back when she was still with Jason, even. It isn’t hard to tell when a guy likes your body. Even though Eddie always did try to hide it more than the rest. There are times when he still does it now actually, staring at her like that, kind of like a creep if she’s honest - like he’s never seen a pretty girl before. She loves it.
But hearing him actually say it, that he’d known he wanted to fuck her for so long - since the first time they’d talked, even - it makes her skin thrum. She squeezes her legs together again, seeking sensation. Friction. She lets herself wonder what Eddie looks like in this moment, whether he’s feeling the same.
“Ed?” she whispers, and he lets out a barely audible sigh. He’s always liked it when she calls him that.
“Yeah?”
“Are you hard?”
Eddie laughs breathily in her ear and it makes her shiver. His number’s up.
“Course I am.” He says gruffly. “M'always hard when I'm on the phone with you.”
It should feel like a dirty confession but it doesn’t, because he says it so earnestly, so… reverently, almost, that it feels like a knife to the ribs.
“Really?”
“Yeah, always.” He mumbles. His eyes are still closed, knees still curled up to his chest, only his legs are nudging a little wider now and he’s got one sweaty palm gripping the top of his thigh.
“Ever since school,” he starts to elaborate, and he goes on when she doesn’t stop him - “Even- even if we were talking about normal stuff, like - I don’t know - exams.”
“What?!”
Chrissy giggles. Again, she should probably be feeling scandalized by this information, but how can she be? She’s been the same.
“I couldn’t help it!” He protests.
“Oh my god.”
“You remember… that night you phoned me up and told me you dumped Jason?”
Eddie balances the receiver between his neck and his shoulder so he can gnaw at the skin around his nails. He’s all of a sudden filled with this strange, nervous energy. One that seems packed and brimming full of possibilities.
“It was the day after you first kissed me. And your mom grounded you.”
“I remember.” Chrissy says.
“Well, that was the first time I realised you actually wanted me back.” He sighs heavily as he thinks about it. “I got so hard, Chris,” he breathes. “You don’t even know. It was painful.”
Slowly, Chrissy pushes her forehead into the cold cinder block in front of her.
“I didn't know that,” she says quietly. By now, she can feel that she’s wet. She pauses for a moment before asking him, tentatively: “Did you ever - You know. Think about… what it would be like?”
“Sure.”
Again, he says it like it should be obvious, and suddenly Chrissy’s wishing that they’d had this conversation a lot sooner.
“What - like, um, what sort of things did you think about?”
“Um…”
Cogs whir in his brain again as he considers his answer. He’s not sure what to say that won’t sound gross, like he’s a perv or something. He thinks Chrissy’s trying to start something here - I mean, it’s feeling obvious, but he can’t be completely sure. He wouldn’t want to get it wrong.
“Please,” she says, and it makes him shiver. “I wanna know.”
“Thought about you, uh, in the - uh, in the cheer uniform.”
His voice drops down about three octaves when he says it, and white heat flares in the pit of Chrissy’s stomach.
Eddie misses the cheerleader skirt sorely. Misses the ponytail, the scrunchy, the socks. The knee-high tube socks with the yellow and green stripes around the tops. How many times has he thought about those, he wonders. Has to be countless.
"I wore it on Halloween." Chrissy replies dumbly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah,” she says shakily. “Ripped it all up, though. Went as a zombie cheerleader."
"Wish I'd seen that."
Ripping the uniform up had been symbolic. It wasn’t that she hated cheer, far from it. It was just… time to start a new chapter. A way of promising herself that she wasn’t going back to her old life. The life of fulfilling expectations and being Laura Cunningham’s perfect little fucking princess. Now, though, Chrissy’s struck by the sentiment that she might have liked to put the uniform on just one more time.
"I took a Polaroid for you,” she says, which is completely true. “I just never got round to sending it."
The second part is only half true. She’d put it in an envelope and everything. Last autumn. But then they’d stopped speaking and she’d chickened out.
“But you ripped it all up, huh.” Eddie repeats softly, and then it’s like she can read his mind for a second, because she says: "I still have the socks.” The news is excellent.
“Oh my god.” His laugh is wet and it breaks in his throat halfway through. “Music to my ears.”
Chrissy giggles nervously.
“Eddie?” She whispers after a while.
“Yeah?”
She clears her throat, eyes on her feet and her forehead pressed so hard against the wall now that it’s probably going to leave imprints of the brick.
“Did you ever- back then,” she clarifies. “Did you ever…?”
“What?” He says urgently.
She clears her throat again, head spinning.
“Did you ever think about me while you were…? You know.”
He laughs again when he realises what she’s asking. Another choked up, wet sound.
“Uh, only pretty much every night of senior year.”
Eddie doesn’t know if it would be more offensive to tell her the truth or to attempt a lie like Chrissy hasn’t had the monopoly on his late-night thoughts since the first time they’d split a joint, but lying is too difficult anyhow, so he goes for the former. It seems to knock all of the wind out of her, because when she replies it sounds all rattling and breathless.
“Really?” She whispers. “Back then? Even when I was with Jason?”
Eddie winces hearing her say it so plain. God, yeah. He’s a bad guy.
"I mean I'm not proud of it, but."
You can't get in trouble for your thoughts. That’s what he’d told himself at the time. And at the time they'd been thoughts he never, ever thought he'd be telling her about, so yeah. Sue him.
“Eddie?” Chrissy starts up again in that high, breathy voice and shit, it’s painful.
“Oh god, Chrissy, what? What is it now?”
He wants to tell her please don’t ask him another question. He doesn’t know if he can handle being subjected to another one of her questions. Eddie doesn’t really understand it, but there’s something about the mortification of it all that’s making him even harder, if that’s at all possible.
“Are you… are you doing it now?”
Something clicks into place and Eddie realises then that this is an invitation. That he was right before, when he thought she was trying to initiate… that she was asking him- asking him to-
“I- are you? Do you want…? Do you want me to-
“Wanna hear you, Ed.” She interrupts him and it’s all Eddie needs to hear. To confirm it. She wants this.
“Yeah?” He asks, just to double check, he thinks, or maybe just to hear her double down on it again.
“Yeah.” She whispers.
“Oh god,” he’s saying frantically, kicking his legs out some so that he can fumble with the fly of his jeans. “Okay. Okay, okay.”
There’s a wet spot on the front of his underwear. When Eddie finally gets his hand on himself, it’s like plunging into a bath of ice. Or maybe hot coals would be a more fitting description. Chrissy listens raptly on the other end, the gasp that comes from Eddie’s lips next shooting straight through her.
“God, I can’t believe you’re actually gonna let me fuck you.” he says to the ceiling, to himself, really, more than to her, and he didn’t mean for it to come out like that. Sounding like it was something she was ‘letting’ him do, when actually she’d been the one to suggest it. But if he’s honest, it still feels a little untrue to him, plus Eddie’s not exactly in control of his mouth right now because his cock’s finally out of his jeans and he’s finally, finally touching himself. They’ve been on the phone for all of what - ten minutes? - but it’s felt, for Eddie, like tedious lifetimes.
"I'm gonna make you feel better than Carver could, I can promise you that."
It’s arrogant, maybe, but like he said - he’s not in control of what’s coming out of his mouth at this very moment. As if to prove the point, Eddie whines, a ragged “fuck” escaping as his thumb catches somewhere on the under-side of him.
"You already do." Chrissy says it quickly, says it without thinking and she surprises herself. It’s not something she’d ever really thought she’d tell him. But then again, this conversation isn’t one she ever thought they’d be having, either.
"I do?"
"Yes."
She admits it to him, then: that no-one had ever made her come before Eddie did. It’s a revelation that nearly makes him choke, sees him still his hand, in serious danger of prematurely misfiring.
"You never told me that," he says. And then: "Sorry I guess. Sorry he never made you feel good."
Eddie's not lying. He is sorry - for Chrissy's end of the deal, at least. But it's hard to feel that bad when he hears that Jason Carver isn't capable of making a woman come. Gleeful would be the more accurate descriptor.
"I'm not.” Chrissy says, and her tone sounds perhaps the firmest it has this whole time. “He doesn't deserve the satisfaction.”
See, Eddie thinks. Chrissy gets it.
“Plus, it kinda makes me feel like... Like I belong to you, or something."
Eddie groans, head hitting the wall anew because she can’t know what she’s saying - there's no way she does.
"God, if you keep talking like that I'll-"
"Do you like it?" She asks him shyly, and Eddie’s stomach turns into a pretzel.
"Yeah, princess,” he groans out. “Like how it sounds." Chrissy can hear the sound of him now, on the other end of the phone. Wet friction, as well as something else - maybe skin rubbing against denim. "Like, like you're all for me." He says.
"I am."
Eddie groans again and it sounds so wrecked, so wanton that Chrissy has to say something more.
"I like that you're the only one.” She manages. “Wouldn't - wouldn't want anyone else."
"Jesus Christ, Cunningham, you’re gonna kill me with that."
Chrissy glances around at the stretch of empty corridor either side of her. The halls are lit up by school-like fluorescent strip lighting that never turns off, not even at night time. Fuck it. There’s no-one around, and if anyone was coming through those double doors, she’d see them, right? Everyone's asleep, anyway. It won't hurt if she-
"Eddie, I'm gonna touch myself, too."
"Oh fuck,” Eddie’s voice hitches higher, his brain fuzzy. “In the middle of your accom?"
"Yeah,” she breathes. “Gotta keep quiet in case anyone wakes up."
"Fuck, baby.” He says. He can hardly decide what he wants to call her. Cunningham. Princess. Baby. He thinks that might be the one, though, because he hears her take the most delicious sigh of an in-breath after he says it. “That's so dirty, you know that?"
I don't care."
Eddie’s eyes are forced closed again, head filled with images of her, standing by the dorm phone in her party dress, her pretty, manicured hand disappearing under the hem of it. Which one would it be, he wonders. The yellow one? The pink? The gingham with the little lace collar? And what colour does she have painted on her nails right now, anyway? Eddie feels like he might be dying.
"Eddie?" Chrissy’s asking him once again, and forget what he said before. Eddie hopes she keeps saying that forever.
"Yeah, baby?"
"Tell me again?" She pleads quietly.
Chrissy’s slipped her underwear (long since ruined, by now) to the side and Eddie hears the soft hiss of breath as her fingers hit home.
It’s not something they’ve ever really acknowledged with each other up until now. Masturbation, that is. Of course, Chrissy’s always known that guys all did it, but back when she was with Jason, she’d sort of developed this feeling that girls weren’t really supposed to (not that it ever stopped her). Once she started hanging out with Eddie, notions like that flew out of the window, but still. She’d never have imagined talking about something as personal as her own self-pleasure with him - much less letting him hear it. She’s blaming it on the wine coolers. And that fucking voice.
"What?" He says with it.
"T-tell me I'm-” she knows there’s no point being shy anymore, but it's still difficult to get out. "About… how I'm all yours?"
Eddie’s heart could burst. He's so fond of her in that moment, as well as unbelievably turned on, which is an odd combination of feelings he’s only ever really felt with Chrissy. Actually, he’s starting to think that maybe he’s never felt anything worth feeling with a girl, not like this, not before he met her. It’s a little like what she said just now, about Carver never getting her off. About how she wouldn’t have even wanted him to be able to. Eddie thinks he understands that feeling on a personal level.
"You're all mine, baby.” He mumbles sweetly, slumping down the wall, his grip on the phone vice-tight. The grip he has on his cock is… yeah. Not much better. “I'm gonna fuck you and I'm gonna make you all mine."
It sounds so unbelievably sweet for something that’s so dirty. Chrissy just whines and squeezes her legs together, rubbing furiously at herself with one slick hand.
"S'that what you want?"
She nods fervently, breathing hard. "Mm-hmm.” It sounds so strained, as if she’s having trouble just forming a sentence. “Wanna be yours, Eddie. Wanna belong to you… Just- just wanna be good for you."
"Fuck, Chris…” Eddie’s already had to bring himself back from the edge several times at this point, and Chrissy’s latest confession has him teetering there at maybe the closest proximity yet. “You're my good girl, aren't you?" He ventures on, testing the waters of this new-found soft point.
"Ye-yeah.." she replies, voice wobbly. Eddie listens to her pant for a while, trying his best not to jack himself too quickly, and then she’s talking again. "I'm gonna suck your cock so good, too..” she rambles, strung out and lost in her own pleasure, maybe not even keeping track of what she’s saying and Eddie’s heading there again, too. “Gonna give you the best- the best blowjob you've ever had. I promise.”
"Such- fuck - such a good girl, baby. I love your mouth so much."
Eddie’s veering scarily close to telling her that thing he doesn’t want to admit. In the end, it’s Chrissy who gets there first.
"No. It's gonna be better this time,” she insists, nearing hysteria, now. “It’s gonna be the best you've ever had."
“Yeah?” Eddie highly doubts that Chrissy’s oral skills could get better than they currently are, but he can’t help but ask. “Why's that?"
"Because- because, I - because I love you."
Fuck.
He's coming violently all over his hand, all over his stomach in hot spurts. He thinks he actually whites out for a second, before he comes to, sinking down the wall, head spinning. He wipes it up carelessly with his t-shirt, breathing coming shallow and rapid. Well that was embarrassing.
"Were you just saying that to make me come?" He asks afterwards, just to make doubly sure. Chrissy laughs softly.
"No. I love you Eddie.” She’d shocked herself a minute ago when she’d first said it, blurted, unthinking, in the heat of the moment, but she realises quickly that she doesn’t regret it at all. “I love you so much."
Eddie’s over-sensitive cock twinges painfully. He sighs.
"I love you too."
"You do?"
"Yeah. Wanted to say it first, actually." He swipes at his sweaty belly, heart-rate starting to slow. He’s still not quite come back down to earth.
"Sorry."
"You should be.” He grins. “I'm really mad."
“Shit,” he’s saying suddenly, scrambling back up into a sitting position and readjusting himself, the phone, so he can talk to her again properly. "Chris, baby, are you close?" How dumb of him. He's been so caught up in it he almost forgot that she hasn't gotten hers yet.
"Yeah, Eddie. I'm really close."
The impromptu declarations of love had kind of distracted Chrissy too, if she’s honest, and she’d taken her hand away from herself for a moment.
"That's good, baby. Keep going, yeah? Want you to come for me."
"Yeah," she pants, quick to push her underwear to the side again and start working on bringing back that tight knot in the pit of her stomach, keeping it there.
"Eddie, tell me?" She begs again - she needs this - and he grins, fond and proud and full of love and impossibly, somehow, half-hard again. His mind is clear this time, though, now that he came already, and it grants him a kind of manic focus.
"Gonna make you all mine, you beautiful girl.” He begins. “M'gonna make sure you're all wet first - gonna make you come a few times before we do anything, yeah? Maybe once on my fingers, once on my tongue..."
Chrissy whines and her core throbs. Before Eddie, she’d never done that with someone before. Didn't even know it was something you did. She'd heard about it, of course, but she thought it was just something out of pornos or those steamy romantic movies she knows her mom watches when she thinks everyone’s gone to bed.
Back in summer, when Eddie had done it to her, it had felt so, so good, but she couldn’t let him carry on for too long. The feeling was almost… too much, in a way. Like she knew that if he carried on she could probably come, but it was the idea of it - Eddie’s face getting right up close and personal down there. It was a little too intimate, so she’d made him stop.
But that was back then. Things are different now, and he clearly feels it too.
"Make sure we get you nice and wet and opened up for me, yeah?"
"Uh-huh.."
Chrissy knows she’s going to let him do everything she wants, and probably a lot of things Eddie wants too, for that matter. She’s going to take everything he has to offer and more. She’s going to let him go down on her and she won’t let him stop until she’s screaming.
"...and then when you're all ready I'm gonna fuck you so good, baby..." Eddie’s talking her through it, now, the phone pressed hard up against his ear as he listens, enthralled, for every sound she makes, every minute hitch of breath. "Know you're gonna feel so good. So tight on my cock, fuck…"
"Eddie, tell me..."
Chrissy can’t form proper responses anymore. Brains melted into a slushy puddle, the words come out all bungled, and there’s only one thing left on her mind. Eddie laughs.
"Okay, okay princess. You're all mine, okay?” Chrissy’s eyes are shut tight, teeth clenched, so focused on getting herself to the finish line she’s all but ceased breathing.
“Gonna make you all mine,” Eddie continues, knowing she’s nearing her peak, knowing that all it’s gotta take is a few careful, well-placed words and she’s there. “You're mine, you belong to me, no one else, baby. Gonna claim you - fuck, everyone's gonna know that you're mine.”
“Eddie."
She makes that noise he knows pretty well and he can tell she's on the edge.
"You're my girl. I love you so much, Chris…"
She comes, then, in clenching, squeezing pulses, doubled over at the stomach, sweaty grip on the phone slipping as she rides it out, body flushing and fluttering with deep waves of heat. Eddie sits listening in the dark, awestruck. He’s heard it before - in person, in fact, but today, somehow, even though he can’t be there, it’s better.
“Shit,” Chrissy says finally as she comes down, readjusting the phone between her neck and her ear. The receiver is slippery with her sweat (and god knows what else), and her breathing is only just beginning to slow.
“Okay?” Eddie asks.
“Yeah.” She sighs, blowing sweaty bangs out of her face. “God, I had no idea that was gonna happen.”
“What, you didn’t think you were gonna come?”
“No, not that. This whole, uh, thing.” She clarifies. “Phone sex.”
She says the last part in a hissed whisper, and Eddie has to laugh. After all that just went down, she can still barely get the words out of her clean little mouth.
“And out in the middle of the hallway, at that.” She says, almost as an afterthought, and it makes Eddie jolt suddenly because he’d half forgotten about that part. God, wasn’t she just swell.
He scratches at his sticky stomach idly. All of a sudden his bones are feeling heavy and warm, and the scruffy old trailer floor carpet is looking decidedly more inviting than it was half an hour ago. He’s sleepy.
“Yeah, well,” he yawns, stretching his limbs out long and languid. “Maybe we get you a phone in your bedroom.” Chrissy giggles into the receiver, and Eddie lays down and curls up, resting his cheek against the scratchy, threadbare floor. “How ‘bout that?”
He needs sleep, but he thinks he’d probably lay here forever, so long as he can listen to Chrissy Cunningham breathing, slow like tides on the other end of the line.