Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eddie Munson was adrift, awash in a sea of leather and latex.  He was also bored out of his fucking mind.

All around him, the play party was in full swing.  To his right, a long-haired, middle-aged man in a dark suit was getting sucked off by a younger, enthusiastic brunette.  To his left, a blonde domme in latex was idly tugging on the chain of her petite, red-haired slave girl’s nipple clamps, while she rested the sharp spikes of her stiletto boots on the naked blond man serving as her footstool.

They weren’t the only ones having fun.  There were people fucking in corners.  People being tied in artful positions with elaborate knot work in what Eddie could only think to call human sculpture.    And in the distance, coming from behind one of the closed bedroom doors, he could hear the whoosh-crack of someone being whipped.  The entire three-story house was awash in a sea of kinky sex.

Boring.  All of it.  And he fucking hated being bored.

Tucked in a secluded corner in the host’s living room, he took a swig of beer - his one drink for the night.  His leg jiggled restlessly, and he thumbed at the label on his beer bottle.

When he’d first moved to California and been invited to a BDSM play party, all of this was new and exciting to him.  Finally, he could indulge in pleasures he’d only been able to find in very particular skin mags.  He’d found a sense of belonging in the BDSM community not unlike the ones he’d created for himself in both Hellfire and Corroded Coffin.

Now, it just felt hollow and unfulfilling.  Everyone here was either already taken, or just looking for something casual.  And, as Eddie was beginning to realize, he didn’t want casual.  He was very much a strings-attached kind of guy.

Sure, he could find someone to play with tonight.  A rope kitten to tie into pretzels, an anal slave begging for some backdoor action, a pain junkie looking for their next hit.  Hell, he could mix it up a little, find someone to top him for the night; he didn’t mind switching now and again.  And then he’d go home to his empty house and his empty bed, trying not to let the aching void inside swallow him whole.

No.  Not worth the effort.  He hadn’t even bothered taking off his chunky silver rings like he usually did before coming to one of these things.  Hell, if he’d realized how bored he’d be, he wouldn’t have even bothered coming, much less going to the trouble of changing into the black blazer and tight leather pants that took twenty minutes to wiggle his ass into.

Several feet away, a pair of women were staring at him, whispering to each other.  He could already guess exactly what they were saying to one another.  He’d seen and heard some variation dozens of times before.

Sure enough, one of the two girls sauntered over, determination glittering in her eyes.  With her dark hair, dark makeup, and black corset and fishnets, she blended in with just about everyone else here.  Before she even spoke, Eddie knew he’d forget her face the second they parted ways.

At moments like this, he wished he could say the same.  Unfortunately for him, he had a recognizable face.

“Hey,” the woman greeted, projecting her voice over the quiet music and the sounds of people fucking around them, “you’re Eddie Munson, right?  From Corroded Coffin?”

And there it was: the reason he was losing patience with these parties with every passing week.  The BDSM community in LA was inextricably intertwined with the metal scene, which meant he was almost always recognized at these things.

The novelty of fame had been fun, at first.  Back in Hawkins, he’d been nothing but the school freak in the eyes of his classmates.  To go from that to suddenly having groupies who worshiped the ground he walked upon… it was a heady feeling.

But after a while, he’d realized: these people didn’t see him any more than his old classmates had.  Instead of seeing Eddie “The Freak” Munson, they saw Eddie Munson, guitarist of Corroded coffin.  He might have money, fame, and all the privilege that came with it, but he was just as alone in a crowded room as he’d ever been.

“Yeah, I am,” he admitted.  No point denying it; she’d recognized him, after all.  It’d be quicker to just get this over with.

The woman bounced excitedly on her stiletto heels.  “I knew it!  I’m like, your biggest fan!”

Her brown, kohl-rimmed eyes wandered his frame hungrily, making him feel naked under her gaze - and not in a good way.  His black leather pants left little to the imagination, and she could definitely see his bare chest and stomach under the open lapels of his blazer.  

He knew what she wanted.  If he took her home - or even into one of the empty bedrooms at the party - he could spend the night getting his ego (and other things) stroked.  In exchange, she’d have bragging rights, a notch on her belt.  I fucked a famous guitarist at a BDSM party!

A year ago, he would’ve said yes.  Two months ago, even.  But he was so tired of only being wanted for his fame, or judged for his passions.  Just once, he wanted to be wanted for him.

He was just Eddie.  He just wanted that to be enough.  Was that so much to ask?

He offered the fan a polite, but lukewarm, smile.  “Thanks a lot.  It’s always nice to meet a fan,” he said.

She nodded along, listening without even hearing him.  “Do you wanna… go somewhere?”

Just like that.  No getting to know one another, no laying out ground rules or boundaries, no finding out what each other wanted.  For all she knew, their wants were completely incompatible.  But that didn’t matter.  Because for her, getting to fuck a rockstar was all she wanted.  And what he wanted…  What he wanted didn’t matter.

“Actually, I was just leaving,” he said.  When her eyes brightened, he hastened to add: “Alone.”

“Oh.  Okay.”  Disappointed, she walked away, but not before he heard her mutter: “Prick.”

He let it roll right off his back.  You needed a thick skin to make it in the music world, after all.  He’d been called far worse by people whose opinions meant more.  

To hell with this.  He was never going to find what he wanted here.  Swallowing the last dregs of his beer, he got up and looked toward the exit.

The woman who stepped through the door stopped him dead in his tracks.

Everyone at the party was dressed in dark colors: mostly black, with some charcoal grays and some deep burgundies mixed in.  Corsets, fishnets, and leather were the name of the game, and this woman must not have gotten the memo.  She was dressed in a short, pale blue baby doll dress that ended a little above mid-thigh, leaving her gorgeous legs on display.  White silk stockings and shiny black Mary Jane shoes finished the look.  Her strawberry blonde hair was held back in a half-tail with a wide blue ribbon.  With her milky white skin, long dark lashes, and pink painted lips, she gave off the overall impression of a porcelain doll.

It wasn’t the woman’s choice of costume that made him freeze.  No, it was her face.  He knew that face; it had haunted his dreams for the past seven years.

But what the fuck was Chrissy Cunningham doing at a fucking kink party?

Heart thumping in his chest, he made his way forward as if in a trance, wending and weaving through the throng of party guests.  He didn’t see a single one of them; he had eyes only for Chrissy.  

When he was about halfway across the room, her eyes slid unseeingly over him before doing a double-take.  Her pretty pink lips formed a perfect o, just like they used to when she exhaled plumes of smoke when they’d share a joint in the woods behind Hawkins High.

Just as quickly, her face lit up with a bright smile.  “Oh my god, Eddie?  Is that you?”

And suddenly she was right there before him, displacing the air from the room and his very lungs in the same moment.  His hands reached out to cup her elbows without any input from his floundering brain.  The soft warmth of her skin against his guitar-roughened fingertips was too real for this to be a dream.  So was the feel of her own fingers gripping the sleeves of his jacket.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, completely unnecessarily.  Fragments of a thousand different thoughts skittered through his brain, each too small and slippery to hold onto.  All except for one.  “What are you doing here?”

“I just moved to LA about a month ago,” she replied.

Eddie pulled a face.  That wasn’t at all what he was asking.  “No, I mean, what are you doing here?  Do you know what kind of party this is?”

She shot him a wry look.  “No, I was just on my way to pick up a pizza and I got turned around,” she teased.  “Of course I know what kind of party this is.  The bouncer, Jack, works at the same gym as me.  He said he could get me in.”

Eddie glanced dubiously around the room.  He hadn’t been the only one to notice her; Chrissy’s pale dress was practically a beacon among all the black leather and latex.  Her sweet, innocent look was like chum in shark-infested waters.  More than one unattached person in the room was eyeing her speculatively.  But as long as she was talking to Eddie, they kept a respectful distance.

He needed to get her out of here.  Chrissy was in way over her head, and she had no idea.  Sure, all of these people had been vouched for in one way or another.  They all strictly stuck to the code of safe, sane, and consensual.  But even the best Dom could scar Chrissy for life if neither of them understood what the other was agreeing to.

But first, he had to explain what was going on.  If he tried to simply drag her out of here, it’d make a scene.  If he looked like he was taking her anywhere against her will, nobody in the party would stand for it.  That was part of what drew him to these private, invitation-only parties instead of the public events where any sketchy character with enough money could weasel their way in.

They needed a private place to talk.  Unfortunately, privacy was in short supply here.  Every room from the basement to the attic would be crawling with people.  If they were lucky, maybe they’d find an empty bedroom.  But with the party in full swing, he doubted it.

But he knew of a quiet place.  A place nobody seemed to go to, at least in his experience.  It was quiet, and it was secluded.  The perfect spot to talk.  “Do you wanna go somewhere alone?” he asked.

Her face lit up like he’d just told her Christmas was coming early.  “I’d love that.”

Before he could even thing to lead the way, she placed her hand trustingly in his.  He marveled at the feel of her small, birdlike fingers engulfed in his larger ones.  God, he’d forgotten how tiny she was!  He must have a solid half a foot on her, even with the small heels of her shoes.  Mindful of her smaller stride, he led her through the maze of the house, past couples and groups intertwined in various acts.  Eventually, he reached the sliding glass door leading to the back porch.

This place, too, was crowded.  Mostly, people came out here for a quick smoke; the host of these parties had a strict no smoking indoors policy.  The air out here was heavy with cigarette smoke: regular, menthol, clove, and weed.  A few smokers spared Eddie and Chrissy a curious glance as they passed, but no more.  Descending the wooden porch steps, the pair of them followed a winding stone path until they reached his destination: a secluded wooden bench swing at the edge of the property, topped with a wooden canopy to protect it from the elements.

Holding the swing still for Chrissy, he waited for her to sit down before taking the opposite end of the bench for himself.  For several long moments he said nothing - just stared at their legs while they both swung slowly on the bench, trying to find a pace that worked for both of them.  It wasn’t easy; his knees were bent at a sharp angle from the lowness of the seat, while her feet hardly touched the ground.  The white silk of her stockings nearly glowed in the faint moonlight, while the black leather of his pants nearly disappeared in the dark.

“Nice spot,” Chrissy commented mildly.  “Nice and cozy.  You bring a lot of girls out here?”  

Eddie glanced at her curiously.  Chrissy wasn’t even looking at him; she was staring up at the night sky, as if she could divine the meaning to life in the movements of the stars.  “No.  Usually I come out here when I need some air.”

“Is that why you brought me out here?  For a breath of fresh air?” she asked.

He shook his head.  He didn’t need one; the second her eyes met his from across the room, he felt like he’d taken his first real breath in months.  He felt refreshed, charged, crackling with energy like the time he’d been bored enough to rub his head against the bleachers for an entire gym period until all of his hair stood on end.  But if he dared to reach out and touch her, he was positive that he’d be the one to get the jolt.

“No, I wanted to warn you,” he said, fiddling with one of the rings on his right hand.

“Warn me?” she echoed, tearing her eyes away from the night sky.  In the darkness, he could just make out her brow lowering in worry.  “Is there someone I need to look out for in there?”

“No - no - nothing like that,” he said quickly.  His face heated as he realized that he was going to have to actually explain this shit to Chrissy.  God, how embarrassing!  It was one thing for other kinky people to know his turn-ons.  But to have to spell it out for someone as innocent as Chrissy was just plain mortifying.  “Look, this isn’t - it’s not just a regular sex party,” he said.  He winced.  Was there such a thing as “regular” sex parties?  Normal, non-kinky people probably didn’t have sex parties, did they?  “It’s a BDSM party.  That means - “

She interrupted him with a snort and a roll of her eyes.  “I know what BDSM is, Eddie!  You think I didn’t notice the guy getting pegged in the entryway?  Or hear the sound of someone getting paddled within an inch of their life?”  When he didn’t answer, she gave him an amused look.  “I’m not a teenager anymore, you know.  I’ve been to parties like this before.  I’ve even joined in the fun!” she said with a faux-scandalized gasp.

Eddie’s mouth flapped open and closed while he struggled to find his voice.  “Oh,” he finally managed, intelligently.  Then, weakly: “So what, uh, what are you into?  I know a few people.  Maybe I can help you find someone who… you know…”  He gestured vaguely.  “…does it for you.”  

He swallowed hard against the bitter taste in his mouth.  The thought of introducing Chrissy to another man or woman who would act out all of his wildest fantasies was enough to make him sick.  But better that than to let her find someone on her own and have it turn out to be the wrong person.  His own feelings were nothing compared to her safety.  It wasn’t like he had a shot with her, anyway.

A crestfallen look passed over her face, and her shoulders slumped.  “Oh.”  Hugging her arms around her middle, she scooted an inch or so further away from him.  “I guess I thought… or I hoped, anyway… that you brought me out here because you wanted to, you know… do it for me,” she said, mimicking his earlier words.

Eddie’s mouth went dry as his mind raced to keep up.  It wasn’t easy, when his stomach was full of butterflies and his palms were going all clammy.  It seemed impossible.  There was just no way that Chrissy Cunningham, the one who got away - the one he’d never had a shot with in the first place - was asking him to… to…

Actually, that was a good point: he didn’t even know what she wanted.

When he asked her exactly that, he wasn’t sure what he expected.  The Chrissy he remembered was a shy, timid thing underneath the mask of Cheer Captain.  Getting her to talk about her wants and dreams was like pulling teeth, when she knew what she wanted out of life at all.

So it was a shock when she came right out and said, “Well, for tonight, I’m mostly looking for a good, hard spanking.”

If he still had his beer, he would’ve done a spit-take.  What had happened to Chrissy since high school?  Could this really be the same girl who couldn’t even bring herself to break up with the boyfriend she couldn’t stand all those years ago?

He looked closer.  No, not girl, he amended.  Woman.  She might be dressed to look like the world’s sexiest porcelain doll, but there was a newfound confidence in the way she carried herself, in the steady way her eyes met his.  It was intriguing, fascinating, and sexy as hell.  

Eddie couldn’t believe his luck.  This gorgeous, self-assured woman might be different from the Chrissy he remembered, but he recognized her in the sound of her laugh, the curve of her smile.  Even if nothing came of tonight, he was hooked.  He’d give his left arm to get to know this new Chrissy.

And by some fucking miracle, she wanted him to spank her.  Even in his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined that Chrissy Cunningham - sweet, repressed, achingly insecure Chrissy Cunningham - would want this from anyone.  Never mind him.

It took him two tries and one clearing of his throat to get his fumbling mind to remember how his vocal cords worked.  “You sure you want it to be me?” he asked.  

Mentally, he was cursing himself for looking a gift horse in the mouth.  When the object of your fantasies came to you asking to fulfill one of said fantasies, the only answer was a very enthusiastic yes.  Already his mind was racing ahead, spinning out image after image of the other things he’d love to do to her, if she was into it.  

But he was getting ahead of himself.  No matter how much he wanted this - and he did, with an intensity that had him clenching his hands into fists to hide their shaking - he needed to be damn sure that Chrissy wanted this from him.

Her eyes were steady when they met his.  “I’m sure.”

“You’ll be putting yourself in my hands,” he cautioned.  “If you change your mind, there’s no hard feelings.  Whoever you do this with should be someone you can trust.”

She smiled at him, her eyes soft and open.  “That’s why I want it to be you,” she said.

Well… it was hard to say no to that.  And it made sense, he guessed.  She’d just moved here a month ago; chances were, he was the only one she knew at the party.  He could give her a warm-up tonight, get her used to this sort of thing without having any expectations.  Then, once she was more comfortable, she could find someone who suited her needs.

By then, he probably wouldn’t be coming to these things anymore, anyway.  Even if he weren’t growing sick of them, he had a nagging suspicion that tonight just might ruin him for any other encounters.

“Fair enough,” he said, trying not to let his eagerness show too much.  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to focus himself.  Being a good Dom meant getting into the right headspace, and he’d be damned if he let his nerves get in the way.  Chrissy wanted him to give this to her, and she’d get nothing less than his best.  When he opened his eyes, his voice carried an authoritative edge.  “I like to use the basic color system - green for good, yellow to slow down or change it up, red to end the scene - but if you have a safeword, we can use that, too.   Do you have one?”

Her lips parted, and her cheeks darkened slightly. A good sign.  When she spoke, she sounded just a little breathless.  “The basics work for me.  My safeword is backstitch.”

“Backstitch,” he repeated, nodding in approval.  It wasn’t a word that was likely to come up in a scene.  He took a moment to commit it to memory.  “What about aftercare?  What do you need when the scene is over?”

Her eyes lowered, and a fiery blush stained her face, traveling down her throat to her collarbone.  “I, um… I like to be… told that I’m good.  That I did well.  Praised, you know?”  

Silently, he marveled at the change in Chrissy.  This same woman who had asked for a spanking - a good, hard spanking - couldn’t even bring herself to look at him when she asked for aftercare.  That wasn’t surprising; in his experience, lots of submissives had an easier time asking for what they needed physically than emotionally.

“What about you?” Chrissy added, glancing at him curiously.  “What do you need after?”

His eyebrows rose.  She wanted to know what he was like as a bottom?  Why?  Probably just curiosity, he decided.  She wanted to compare notes to see how they differed.

“I don’t bottom very often,” he admitted.  “But when I do… mostly, I like to be touched.”  Truth be told, he liked his hair played with afterward.  A set of fingers scratching his scalp after a good scene would have him blissed out and snoring in seconds.

Chrissy giggled.  “I meant after you spank me.  What can I do to bring you back to earth after?”

Eddie stared at her, mouth agape.  Never - not once - had he been asked that in the past seven years.  Sure, sometimes the act of setting up and maintaining a scene for a sub was exhausting, in an exhilarating way.  It was like performing onstage, or DMing a game: a lot of thought and preparation went into it that went unseen by his intended audience.  And putting on the persona of the rockstar or the villain took a lot out of him, too.  Domming was no different.  Watching for his sub’s cues, straddling the line between doling out pain and pleasure, pushing at their limits without ever, ever crossing the line - it took a lot out of him.  But his sub was the one who went through the extremes of sensation; their needs had to come first.  Once the sun was taken care of, he could take care of himself.

He opened his mouth to tell her exactly that.  But Chrissy’s dark gray eyes were full of such open, earnest curiosity that he found himself saying, “Mostly I just like to do something to shut my brain off for an hour or two.  Watch a movie I’ve seen before, listen to a favorite album, stuff like that.  Oh - and I get hungry afterward, too.”

He didn’t bother mentioning his number one craving after ending a scene.  That was something he kept to himself; not even the few subs he’d had long-term arrangements with knew.  To tell Chrissy would be to let her think that he had expectations beyond tonight.  Which he didn’t.  An expectation was a hope with evidence to back it up - and right now, he had neither.

“I’ll remember that,” she said, and he tried his hardest not to take her words as a promise.

He shook his head to clear out his morose thoughts.  Chrissy wanted a good experience, and he couldn’t give her that when he was distracted by things he couldn’t have.  

Once his mind was clear and his mask was back in place, he gave Chrissy a level stare.  “Stand up and lift up your skirt,” he ordered.

He watched in fascination as her blush darkened, spreading past her collarbone, lower and lower until it disappeared past the low neckline of her dress.  For a second, he wondered if he pushed too hard too fast.

He needn’t have worried; with a mischievous grin, Chrissy stood up.  Coming to stand before him, she lifted her skirt up, twisting the toe of one shoe coquettishly into the grass underfoot.

Eddie’s mouth went dry as his eyes roamed hungrily.  He could see everything.  The pale silk of her stockings ended in white lace at her upper thighs, drawing the eye to the milky strip of soft, vulnerable flesh where leg met torso.  And above that, a pair of pale purple panties made of a lace so see-through that she may as well have been wearing nothing at all underneath.  If her otherwise girlish attire made her seem innocent and inexperienced, her choice in underwear was anything but.

Most telling of all was the dark stain forming between her legs, a sure sign of her arousal.

He shook his head in quiet wonder.  This girl.  This girl was a dream come true, and he hadn’t even laid a hand on her yet.

He leaned back in the bench swing, crossing one knee over the other with an air of disinterest.  Mostly, he wanted to hide the telltale stirring in his pants.  The tight leather was about to make things real uncomfortable, real fast.

“How long have you been wet?” he asked, as casually as if he were asking about the weather.

“Since you brought me back here.”

His heart skipped a beat, which was immediately followed by a throb in his groin.  It doesn’t mean anything, he reminded himself ruthlessly.

Control.  He needed to keep control.

“‘Since you brought me back here…’” he echoed, letting it dangle, letting her know that he expected more.  A title.

In truth, he wasn’t a stickler for titles.  They could add a fun element to a scene, but he was happy with or without them.  What mattered most to him was giving his submissive what they wanted.

Learning what she wanted to call him served that end.  You could learn a lot about a submissive from what they called their Dom.  “Master” gave a strong sense of ownership, while “Sir” was more authoritative.  “Mister” was respectful but relatively informal, and “My Lord” had a tone of worship.  Eddie had been called all of these at one point or another.  And while he liked each and every one, he didn’t have any clear preference.

In front of him, Chrissy bit nervously at her lower lip.  Eddie found himself leaning his elbows on his knees in anticipation.  “Go on,” he said softly, letting the mask of the Dom slip long enough for her to see that it was still him underneath.

Courage bolstered, she took a deep breath.  “I’ve been wet since you brought me back here, Daddy.”

Eddie sucked in a sharp breath through his nose as about ninety percent of the blood in his body took a sharp detour straight to his dick.  “Daddy” was a title he’d never been called before, but he found himself taking an immediate liking to it.  Where “Master” implied ownership, “Daddy” gave off vibes of… protection.  Affection.  And yes, authority and discipline.  Without even realizing it, Chrissy had managed to tick off all his boxes.

Oh yeah.  He could definitely work with being Daddy.

He straightened his legs, making no effort to hide the telltale bulge at his fly.  Chrissy’s eyes looked nearly black in the darkness as she licked her lips.

“Climb on my lap, little girl,” he growled, “and ask me for your spanking.”

Getting situated was awkward.  Eddie had to scoot to the middle of the bench swing to give Chrissy room to drape herself over his lap, ass in the air.  The warm weight of her on his cock made him want to buck up into her, but he shoved the urge aside mercilessly.  The swing wasn’t the stablest of surfaces, but if he braced his legs, he could hold it still enough for their needs.

“I’ve been a good girl, Daddy.  Please will you give me a good, hard spanking?”

Eddie gave a filthy grin that she couldn’t see.  Oh yeah, she knew the game, alright.  Hard to believe that a good girl like Chrissy Cunningham was bent over his lap begging for a spanking.

First things first: he tugged the rings off his fingers and tucked them into the pocket of his blazer.  If he’s known that tonight would end with a Chrissy fucking Cunningham lying across his lap, he would’ve left them at home.  He pushed her skirt over her hips, biting back a chuckle.  The backs of her panties rode up her ass so far that they left practically nothing to the imagination.  And just below them, in sharp contrast, the backs of her stockings were each held closed by a length of bubblegum-pink ribbon tied in a sweet bow.  God, what he wouldn’t give to untie those bows with his teeth!  He trailed his fingertips over the strip of creamy skin at the tops of her thighs.  Fuck, she was soft - like warm satin.

As he watched, a shiver ran through her, and a wave of gooseflesh covered her skin.  “Cold?” he murmured.  “Or nervous?”

“A little nervous,” she admitted.  “Mostly excited.”

“Mm.”  He took a moment to simply run a hand over her bottom, enjoying the contrast between the scratchy lace of her panties and the smoothness of her skin.  After a few moments, she sighed, melting into him.  He grinned.  She was ready.

Drawing his hand back, he delivered a quick spank to one cheek - not too hard, somewhere between a tap and a slap.  A breathy, excited sound slipped from between Chrissy’s lips.  Wanting to hear more, he repeated the action on the other cheek.

He kept things slow and light at first, giving her a few seconds to recover between each slap.  This was their first time together - their only time - and he didn’t know her limits well enough to push them.  Maybe, if she gave him the chance to do this again…

No.  Focus.  The future wasn’t important.  Right now, all that mattered were the woman draped over his lap, and the sweet sighs he pulled from her with every slap.  

Soon she was squirming in his lap, lifting her hips in an insistent bid for more.  Normally, this was when he’d kick things up a notch: increase the strength of speed of his blows.  Possibly even both.  

But the sooner he did that, the sooner this encounter would end.  Just thinking about letting this gorgeous woman up off his lap made his gut twist.  So he elected to tease her, instead.

“Something you want, sweetness?” he asked innocently.

Lifting her head, she looked over her shoulder at him with an adorable pout.  “Harder.”

“Ah-ah-ah, that’s not how we ask, is it?” he asked.  “Good girls ask nicely for what they want.  You want to be a good girl for Daddy, don’t you?”

“Oh, fuck,” she muttered, letting her head fall forward again.  “Please, will you spank me harder?”

Instead of answering, he gave her ass a stinging, resounding slap.  For a split second, Chrissy tensed up underneath him.  But then she went limp and pliant with a long, drawn-out moan.  A pale red handprint bloomed on the pale skin.  Eddie stared, transfixed.  Beautiful.  He gave the other cheek one to match.

“Color?” he asked softly.

“Green,” she moaned back.

“Good,” he murmured, caressing the curve of her hip before delivering another swat.  “Good girl.”

He kept going, slowly upping the speed and intensity of the blows while Chrissy writhed and cried out.  Her every move rubbed against the hard ridge of his cock.  But he was too deeply in the zone to pay it any mind.  His eyes looked down at her with laserlike focus, taking in everything: the sweat beading on the back of her neck, the quivering of her thighs as she tried to keep still, the hypnotic jiggle of her cheeks every time he landed a blow.  Underneath her panties, her pale bottom was taking on a bright, rosy glow.  Best of all: the musky scent of her arousal permeated the cool night air, making his mouth water.

Smack.  Smack.  Smack.  He was a percussionist setting the tempo for the music of her moans.  He just might have a new favorite instrument to play.  He wondered what other sounds he could coax out of her.  

Eventually, the sound of his swats and her cries drew a crowd.  

“Look at all these people,” he said as he delivered another slap.  “All of them could hear you all the way from the house.  If I didn’t know better, I’d think you want them all to see what a filthy thing you are.”  Smack.  “Don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” Chrissy whimpered.

He delivered two harder whacks.  She yelped.  “Yes, what?” he asked, soothing some of the burn with his hand.

“Yes, I want them to see what a filthy thing I am!” she cried.

“That’s what I thought.  Let’s take down those panties and show them all how much you enjoyed your spanking, hmm?”  He pulled the waistband down around her upper thighs.  Her bum looked magnificent: peaches and cream skin dyed a pale red by his rough, calloused palm.  And underneath, a nest of reddish-blonde curls glistening with her juices.  The sight was burned indelibly into his eyes; he’d remember this for as long as he lived.

He took a few moments to simply enjoy the feeling of her skin under his hand, the heat of her baked bottom a sharp contrast to the cool night air.  Her skin was so fucking soft.  Absolutely addictive.  

After about a minute, Chrissy shifted restlessly under his hand.  “Please,” she whimpered.

“Please?” he asked teasingly, running his fingernails over her reddened skin.  Her hips jerked, and he chuckled.  Working her up was almost too easy.  “Please what?”

She groaned in frustration.  Her hips rose higher, her spread thighs giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her glistening pink cunt.  And suddenly, he was painfully aware of just how tight his leather pants were squeezing the life out of his cock.  It’d take a week for the marks of his inseam to fade from his balls, he just knew it. 

“Please!  Please, I - I need to come!  Please let me come!” she begged. 

The temptation to undo his fly and just bury himself in that welcoming paradise was flagrant, dangerous.  With how swollen and needy her poor clit looked, he doubted she’d mind.  On the contrary, he was positive he could give her a mindblowing orgasm or two before he combusted.  

But sex wasn’t what she’d asked for.  She’d asked to come.  And he was happy to oblige.  Slipping a hand between her legs, he stroked along her slit with a single fingertip.  She yowled, pushing herself back insistently on his fingers.  He chuckled.  She was primed for takeoff.  It would only take a few seconds to have her coming on his hand.

But if he only had one chance at this, he wanted to make it as memorable as possible.  He wanted to see her face when she broke apart, and he couldn’t do that when she was lying face-down in his lap.  

“Sit up, sweet girl,” he encouraged, helping her when her trembling arms wouldn’t cooperate.  Soon, he had her upright and straddling his right leg, the heat of her pussy scalding even through the leather.  Holding her skirt up, he gave her ass a playful swat.  She bucked against his leg, moaning at the friction of the leather between her legs.  “That’s it,” he coaxed, guiding her movements with his hands on her hips.  “That’s it, Chrissy.  Rub that pretty pussy against my leg.  Make yourself feel good.”

Eddie watched, spellbound, as Chrissy ground herself against his leg.  Every time she moaned, the sound went straight to his balls, and his cock throbbed in envy with every undulating movement of her hips.  The neckline of her dress slipped lower and lower with every move she made.  The ribbon had fallen out of her hair at some point, leaving it to fall in her face.  Not wanting to miss a single detail of the beauty unfolding before his eyes, Eddie threaded his fingers through her hair to hold it out of the way.

Fuck, she was beautiful!  Her lips parted with every breathy moan, her skin glistening with sweat, her cheeks stained red with exertion and arousal, her eyes nearly black with lust.  Her lips were an inch or two away from his own.  It’d be so easy to lean in and capture them with his own.  He was a man trapped in the desert, dying of thirst, and Chrissy was a sparkling oasis.

He bit his tongue, hard, to stifle the urge.  This was a one-time scene.  That was all.  He needed to remember that.

The pace of her grinding increased, and Chrissy’s eyes flew open wide.  “Please - Daddy - can I - “

“Come for me, princess,” he sighed into her mouth, watching unblinkingly as she reached a beautiful crest.

Her face screwed in agonized ecstasy as she ground herself harder against his thigh.  Her hands had found their way under his blazer to his bare shoulders beneath, and her nails bit into his skin.  Nothing had ever felt better.

Her thighs tightened around his as she began to quake in the circle of his arms.  To his surprise, it wasn’t “Daddy” she cried out as she came.  “Oh god oh god oh god, Eddie!” she screamed.  

The sound of his name on her lips in that tone was too much.  His balls tightened, and fire flooded his veins as he came with a hoarse shout.  

By some miracle he managed to coax her through her climax, guiding her hips as she trembled through the aftershocks.  And through it all, he whispered encouragement into her ear: how good she was for him, how sweet, how incredible she was.  

All too soon, it was over, and she slumped bonelessly against him, panting.  While he gently pulled her panties back up and her skirt back down, she burrowed her face into his neck like she never wanted to come out.  Not that he minded.  He’d stay right here until his bony ass fused to the swing if it meant she’d never climb off of him.

Still murmuring soft praise, he swept her hair away from the nape of her neck, letting the night air dry her sweat and cool her down.  The crowd had dispersed once the exciting part was done, but somebody had thoughtfully left them a couple small bottles of water.  Picking one up, he cracked it open and offered it to Chrissy.  She accepted it gratefully.

“Thank you,” she said after taking a sip.

He waved it off.  “Thank whoever brought ‘em.  I didn’t plan for this at all.”

“Yeah, I kind of picked up on that.”  She lapsed into a troubled silence, staring off into the distance with a frown.  When her eyes met his again, they were distressed.  “Listen, Eddie, if I talked you into doing something you didn’t want - “

“You didn’t,” he interrupted.

“Just, you were really pushing me to find someone else - “

“Chrissy - “

Her eyes were going glassy and red with tears.  “And I just steamrolled you.  I didn’t mean - “

“Hey.”  He shushed her with a finger to her lips.  “Believe me - this is the best fucking time I’ve had at one of these things in ages.”  He didn’t bother adding that it just might be the best damn night of his entire life.  Her head was spinning from what she’d just gone through; she didn’t need that kind of burden right now.  “I just wanted to make sure you had a good time, is all.  So if you’re worried about me… well, don’t.  This was perfect.  You were perfect.”

She blushed prettily, biting her lip around a shy smile.  “Well… if you’re sure…”

“I am,” he promised.  “Now, I dunno about you, but I could eat.  What say we go inside and you clean up while I find us something to munch on?”

Her sleepy, sated smile made his stomach flip over.  “I’d like that.”

When she got shakily to her feet, his eyes went immediately to his pants leg.  The leather shone with her juices.  She’d practically soaked his entire leg.  

They made their way back to the house - slowly, out of respect for her shaking legs - and while she excused herself to the bathroom to freshen up, he made them a couple small plates of appetizers.  He wasn’t sure what she liked, so he got her a little bit of everything.

They ate in companionable silence when she got back.  For Eddie, he had no clue what to say.  What could he say to the girl of his dreams when he’d just finished spanking her and coming in his pants like a kid?  If he’d had any hope of getting an encore, that went right out the window.  

As for Chrissy, the night must’ve taken a lot out of her; by the time she finished her plate, she was nodding off in her seat.  

The night had obviously taken a lot out of her.  He needed to get her home so she could relax.  Part of him was tempted to suggest that she come with him back to his place.  He could take care of her, set her up in one of his never-used guest rooms, and bring her back home in the morning.

…And doing that would just make it hurt even more when he dropped her off the next morning, when she stepped out of his car and out of his life forever.  No.  Hard pass.

Still, he couldn’t just leave her here.  No way she was good to drive.

“D’you have a ride home?” he asked.  

Chrissy came alert with a small jerk.  “What?  Oh…  Um, no, but I can call a cab,” she said.

“You know, my, uh, my driver’s waiting outside.  I could have him drop you off at your place if you want,” he offered.  “It’s cheaper than a cab, and it’s safe.”

“I don’t wanna put anyone out,” she said half-heartedly.

He snorted.  “Trust me, you’re not.  I don’t usually leave these things this early.  If anything, David’ll be able to go home early once he drops both of us off.”  When she still looked uncertain, he pressed.  “C’mon, you’re dead on your feet.  The sooner you get home, the sooner you can rest.”

With that, she reluctantly nodded.  “Kay.  Yeah, I wanna go home.”

Well, that settled it, then.  The two of them headed to his car together, where the driver was already waiting in the front seat of his sleek black Cadillac.  If he was surprised to see Eddie leaving the party with someone for the first time in months, he didn’t comment.

“Drop me off first, David, if that’s cool,” he said once both he and Chrissy were tucked into the back seat - him flopping down on his side, her lowering herself very gingerly on hers.  Not the most gentlemanly thing, asking to be dropped off first, but his sanity demanded it.  If he found out where Chrissy lived, he’d drive himself crazy resisting the urge to drop by and see her again.

Great.  He was a lovesick puppy, and a stalker.  Just wonderful.

The five minute drive passed in silence.  When the car pulled up to his estate, he realized his mistake.  He’d never be able to fall asleep wondering if she’d made it home alright.  It’d be a pain in the ass for David to have to schlep himself all the way back to Eddie’s place just to confirm that Chrissy had been dropped off.  

Rummaging around the backseat, Eddie eventually found a Sharpie.  He looked around for a piece of paper, but had no such luck.  “Here - “ he said, taking her hand in his.  He scrawled his phone number on her palm, blowing on the ink to dry it so it wouldn’t smudge.  “Call me to let me know you got home safely.  Okay?”

“I will,” she promised.  He reached for the door handle.  “Oh, and Eddie?”

He stopped, turning to look at her.  “What’s up?”

Slowly, she leaned in close, her breath ghosting over his lips.  For a wild, breathless moment, he wondered if she was going to lean in and kiss him.  At the last second, she turned to the side and kissed his cheek.

“You’re sweet,” she said.  “And… thank you.  Tonight was - was everything.”

“It was,” he agreed quietly, staring into her fathomless gray eyes.  

God, it just wasn’t fucking fair.  Tonight was his last play party.  One last encore before he bowed out and exited stage left.  Fate was a cruel bitch to give him a taste of everything he wanted, just to snatch it all away.

“Bye, Chrissy.  It was… it was good seeing you.”  Throat tight, eyes stinging, he got out of the car and closed the door behind him.  He didn’t dare look back, even after he heard the car pull away and round the corner.

With a sigh, he walked up the front steps and unlocked the door.  The front entryway yawned gapingly at him, feeling emptier than it ever had.  All he wanted to do was collapse into bed and sleep for the next week.  Maybe he’d dream of Chrissy if he was lucky - or unlucky, depending on how he looked at it.

But he had other things to do before he could sleep.  He had a pair of pants to clean, for one thing.  A shower to take, for another.  

But first things first: he’d sit by the phone and wait for her call.

Chapter Text

Chrissy Cunningham was not a morning person.  But when her alarm went off at ten the next morning, she woke with a smile on her face, a song in her heart, and a mild sting on her ass.  Rolling onto her back, she wiggled her hips, loving the delicious feeling of the cheap cotton sheets against her tingling backside.

A giddy laugh slipped past her lips.  What a way to wake up!

Not normally one to linger in bed after her alarm went off, Chrissy decided that today was an exception.  It was Monday, so she had no place to be.  Plenty of time to bask in the afterglow of what had gone down last night.  

When her coworker Jack had extended her an invite to a private kink party in a Hollywood Hills mansion, she’d been hesitant at first.  She was still new to town, and basically didn’t know anybody outside of the gym where she worked.  Not exactly ideal for a girl looking to have a good time.  But Jack had promised her that everyone there was cool and safe.  So she’d gone there with every intention of just watching.  At least for the first few visits, anyway.

All that went right out the window the second her eyes met Eddie’s across the room.

She’d recognized him right off the bat this time.  Sure, he’d grown out his bangs - just like she had - and now he had a scruffy, light brown goatee.  But she’d recognize those big, brown puppy dog eyes anywhere.  He looked incredible in those tight leather pants, with his tattoos showing off through the gap in his open blazer.  It was all she’d been able to do to keep from drooling.

She hadn’t expected to run into him in a thousand years.  Oh, sure - she’d followed Corroded Coffin’s career as much as she could over the years.  She knew that Eddie lived in Los Angeles when he wasn’t touring.  But LA was a big place, with tons of people, and she didn’t run with the rich crowds.  She knew that the chances of running into him were slim to none.

But run into him she had, and her heart had leapt when he almost immediately asked her to come with her someplace to be alone.  Just like that, her wildest fantasies were about to come true.  Eddie Munson, the guy she’d been carrying a torch for since just before graduation, wanted to do filthy, obscene things to her.  Filthy, obscene things she’d imagined hundreds of times over the years.

He could do whatever he wanted.  As far as she was concerned, she was already his.

But no - the sweet idiot was trying to protect her.  It’d be cute, if it weren’t so exasperating.  She wasn’t the same timid, confused girl who smoked with him in the woods behind school.  Who was so hung up on her reputation and earning her mother’s approval that she only dared to hang out with him in places where no one would ever, ever see.

She was better than that, now.  She was older, wiser.  Braver.  She needed him to see that.  And so, with a mask of bravado, she’d offered him a coquettish smile and asked him for a spanking. 

Rolling back onto her stomach, Chrissy reached back to caress her ass under her long white nightshirt.  The sting was mostly gone, to her disappointment.  She wouldn’t have minded if he spanked her harder so she’d have a reminder for a few more days.  

Everything else, though - the husky timber of his voice, the smell of leather and cologne in her nose, the roughness of his fingers when they caressed her between spanks, and the hard, insistent length of him pressing to her side - had been perfect.  Just thinking about it sent a shiver of excitement through her, and she found herself rubbing her thighs together against the sweet ache growing there.

And he was so sweet after.  Not just with the aftercare, either.  The spanking he’d given her hadn’t been nearly enough to send her mind to the floaty, cottony, blissful world of subspace, but he’d still made sure that she got home safely.  And he’d done it in a way where the ball was entirely in her court.  She knew where he lived, and she had his number.  Not the other way around.  

Even when she’d called him last night to let him know she got home safe, he hadn’t made any sort of move.  He just… asked how she was feeling, and wished her a good night.  Still floating on the high of her orgasm, she hadn’t even thought to be disappointed when she went to bed.

Obviously, he wasn’t going to make a move.  Maybe he just wasn’t interested in anything more than a quick spank and fumble on the bench swing, and this was his way of letting her down easy.  Or maybe he was too nervous to ask her.  The idea was ridiculous - being too shy to ask a girl on a date after she begged for a spanking and came on his leg.  But she remembered a day in the woods, seven years ago, when a boy everyone in school feared hadn’t even been able to look at a girl when he invited her to come see his band.

She’d never taken him up on that offer.  Seven years ago, Chrissy hadn’t known what she wanted.  It wasn’t until Eddie Munson had packed up his van after graduation, leaving Hawkins forever that she’d realized what she let herself miss out on.  

But she wasn’t that scared little girl anymore.  She’d been given a second chance, and she wasn’t going to squander it this time.  If Eddie wasn’t going to make a move, then she’d just have to do it for him.

And if it turned out he wasn’t interested… well, at least she’d know for sure.

Rolling out of her fold-out couch, she quickly straightened the sheets and blankets before folding the mattress into the frame and replacing the cushions.  Collapsing her bed back into the couch was a pain in the ass most days, but space was at a premium in her teeny tiny studio apartment, and she needed every inch she could get.  Once that was done, she got the kettle on the stove for tea.

While it heated, she picked up the off-white corded phone on her bed/couchside table, and she dialed the number still written on her hand in smudged black ink.

When she’d called last night, Eddie had picked up on the very first ring, as if he’d been standing there waiting for her call.  Today, that wasn’t the case.  The phone rang five times before an answering machine message clicked on.

”Hey, this is Eddie.  If you’re hearing this, you’re shit outta luck; I’m either out, or passed out.  Leave a message after the beep.”

Beep

Shit.  Answering machine.  She hadn’t thought about what she’d say if she got the machine.  Hell, she hadn’t thought about what she’d say to him, for that matter.

Nearly ten seconds passed before Chrissy realized that the tape was rolling, and she still hadn’t said a word.  Say something, stupid!  Anything!

“Hey!”  A good start.  Now maybe some actual real, grownup words.  “Hey, Eddie, it’s, uh, it’s Chrissy.”  Better.  “Listen, I just wanted to say - “

What she wanted to say was a mystery, even to her.  Before she could get another word out, Eddie picked up the phone.  His voice, when he spoke, sounded breathless.  

“Chrissy!  Hi!  Uh, hey.”  Chrissy grinned helplessly.  Even over the phone, his voice made her heart skip a beat.  “What’s up?”

Chrissy settled on the couch, curling her legs under her oversized nightshirt.  Her cheeks warmed, and she found herself fidgeting with the coiled cord of the phone.  Last night, it had been easy to play the part of the naughty sex kitten.  But now, in the light of day, she found herself irrationally shy.  “I just… wanted to say that I had a really good time last night.”

For a beat, there was silence on the other end of the line.  Chrissy’s stomach gave an unpleasant jolt.  Maybe she was wrong.  Maybe she had misinterpreted things.  Maybe he didn’t - 

On the other end of the line, he chuckled.  “Yeah, I could tell.”  

And oh god, wasn’t that embarrassing!  After talking for all of five minutes, she’d just gone and asked him to spank her, without even asking what he wanted.  She’d begged him to make her come, which was not part of the agreement.  And she’d even…

Oh god.

She’d called him that.  The thing she’d never dared call another Dom before.  He probably thought she was sick and twisted.  It was… it was perverted, and wrong, and…

And it felt so damn right.

Face hot, gut churning with shame and humiliation, she forced herself to speak.  “Eddie, look… if I made things weird last night…”

Just then, the tea kettle started to whistle.  With a muffled curse, she got up, ran the ten feet from her couch to her stove, and shut it off.  When she got back to the couch and put the phone back to her ear, she could hear Eddie talking.

“…and I know you said you were cool with it and all, but I’ve been freaking the fuck out all night thinking maybe I pushed things too far.  So, just… god, if I fucked up last night, if I hurt you, I’m sor - “

“Don’t apologize,” she said quickly.  “I’ve been - “  She cut herself off quickly.  She’d been about to say I’ve been waiting a long time for last night.  But at the last minute, she realized how desperate and clingy that sounded.  So she settled for a different truth.  “I’ve been through rougher scenes than that and I didn’t have any problems.  And for the record, I really enjoyed how last night went down.”

“Oh.  Well… good.  That’s good.”  He cleared his throat.  “Sorry for interrupting you there.  I kinda have this thing where if I have a thought and I don’t get it out right away, it just vanishes.  Poof!  ‘Lost in time, and lost in space.  And in meaning.’”  Chrissy blinked.  From his tone, it was pretty obvious that he was quoting something.  But what it was, she had no clue.  “Anyway.  What were you saying?”

“I was just saying I hope I didn’t make things weird for you last night,” she confessed.

She could practically hear his confused blink over the phone line.  “Weird?  Weird how?”

Chrissy buried her face in her hands.  God, he was really gonna make her come out and say it, wasn’t he?  “You know - with what I called you?”

“Mmm, nope, I don’t remember.  Guess you’ll just have to remind me,” he teased.

“Eddie!”

“No, I don’t think it was Eddie.  Although… I did enjoy hearing you scream my name while you rode my leg.”  His tone was still light and teasing, but there was something else lurking underneath.  A promise of something that made Chrissy’s heart skip a beat and a sweet ache to bloom between her thighs.  “Go on, sweetness.  Say it.  I wanna hear you say it.”

A mix of embarrassment, arousal, and longing left Chrissy feeling warm all over.  It was so much easier to play this part when she was dressed for the role, when she was surrounded by other people indulging their unconventional tastes without shame.  When the darkness of the night sky seemed to blanket her, encircling her in a safe cocoon.  It was so much harder to do this in the harsh light of day, in her tiny apartment.

“Daddy,” she said in a voice barely more than a whisper.

“That’s my girl,” he said warmly, and god, this shouldn’t affect her the way it did.  It was like his approval cracked her chest cavity wide open, leaving all her most vulnerable, vital parts bare for his perusal.  It was terrifying, and overwhelming, and it turned her on like nothing else.

She was just about to invite him over to her place to finish what they’d started.  But Eddie beat her to the punch.  “Listen, I wasn’t gonna do this, but… do you wanna grab a cup of coffee?  With me?” he clarified unnecessarily.

She grinned and nodded, belatedly realizing that he couldn’t actually see her.  “I’d love that.  Where?  And when?”

“I’m free now, if you are.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to agree.  But a slight shift brought her attention to one important detail: she hadn’t showered when she got home last night.  Her face was probably smeared with last night’s makeup, and she didn’t even want to think about the situation going on in her underwear.  

“I can do an hour from now, if that works for you,” she suggested.

“Cool, cool.  Yeah, that works.”  He rattled off the name and address of a coffee shop, which she hastily wrote down.  It wasn’t in a neighborhood she was familiar with yet.  “I’ll see you in an hour, yeah?”

“It’s a date.”

An hour and fifteen minutes later, she was rushing down the street to the coffee shop.  Showering and picking an outfit had taken a bit longer than expected.  Dress too casually, and she gave the impression that she didn’t care enough to impress him.  Too dressy, and she came across as desperate.  In the end, she settled for a sage green knit tank top with ruffled straps and a bow on the front and a pair of jean shorts with a scalloped hem.  Opening her apartment’s single window to feel the temperature outside, she wrinkled her nose.  Too hot for socks and sneakers.  Digging through her closet, she found a pair of beige leather sandals with leather flowers sewn onto the instep.  Perfect.  Once she tied her hair in a high ponytail in deference to the heat, she was ready to go.

Despite her dithering, she would have been on time if she hadn’t gotten turned around twice on her way there.  As it turned out, the coffee shop was in a much nicer part of the city than she was used to.  She hadn’t been there yet, and had to stop three times to ask for directions.

When she finally made it inside, her eyes immediately honed in on Eddie.  He was seated at a small, rectangular table for two in the far corner.  The second he saw her, his face brightened, and he stood up.

As she wove through tables to get to him, she allowed herself a moment to drink in the sight of him.  He was as easy to recognize as he’d been last night.  Sure, his face looked a bit older, more mature since high school.  But she’d recognize those big brown eyes and that boyish grin anywhere, even with the scruffy goatee.  The fall of his dark brown curls looked the same as ever.  Not for the first time, Chrissy wondered what all those messy curls would feel like between her fingers.  Would the strands be soft and fine, like her own straight hair?  Or would they be rough and crinkly?

He dressed mostly the same: ripped jeans, black sneakers, chain wallet, and clunky silver jewelry.  No leather jacket, though; the California heat probably made wearing it unbearable.  Instead, he wore a black tank top with an image of some sort of weird, demonic goblin thing climbing out of a tree.  Or maybe getting sucked into it.  She wasn’t sure.

“Eddie!” she said once she got close.

They both stopped short a mere foot away from one another.  Chrissy could practically see the wheels turning in his head.  Probably spinning in place, unable to find traction, just like hers.  Because how the hell were they supposed to greet one another?  With a hug, like old friends?  A handshake to cross the distance of the past seven years?  An awkward wave?  Just how did you greet someone in this situation?

She was being ridiculous.  This was a date, right?  She’d said so herself, and he didn’t argue.  So she’d treat it like a date.  Resting a hand on his shoulder for balance, she rose up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cheek.  His skin was warm and rough against her lips.

When she pulled back, she watched his eyes move up and down, giving her a once-over.  “I never got around to saying it last night, but you look - mmph.”

Chrissy blushed and grinned.  That was probably as close as she’d ever heard Eddie Munson to being speechless.  Didn’t matter if he was stone sober or high as a kite - he had something to say about everything.  Chrissy could still remember lunch periods alone with him in the woods, thoughts swimming in the weed flowing through her system, just letting his voice wash over her.  She always blamed the high for the sweet ache in her chest and the soft smile she’d wear until the moment she got home.

Even back then, she knew she was fooling herself.  Every day, when lunch break ended, she went back to school - back to Jason - leaving Eddie behind.  And every time the trees made him disappear from view, that wonderful feeling vanished right along with it.  The weed might make her forget the shit that waited for her back home, but that feeling of rightness, of belonging?  That was all Eddie.

Maybe someday, she’d finally be able to tell him that.

“You do, too,” she said back in the present.  “I love the, uh…”  She gestured to her chin.

Eddie looked surprised.  “Yeah?” he asked, rubbing at his goatee.  His hand didn’t quite mask his pleased smile.  “It’s, uh, something new I’m trying out.  I almost shaved it this morning.”

“Well, I like it.”

The two of them sat, and a waitress came over to take their order.  Chrissy ordered a chai tea and a scone - “coffee makes me nervous,” she explained with a wry smile - and Eddie simply asked for his usual.

“So,” Eddie said while they waited for their food, leaning back in his chair until he was balancing precariously on its back legs.  “Tell me.  What’s Chrissy Cunningham been up to for the last seven years?  Last I heard, you were on the fast track to family life.  Husband, white picket fence, two-point-five kids.”  He pulled a brown paper napkin from the dispenser and started twisting it.

“I was, at first,” she admitted.  “Everything was all planned out.  Jason was gonna get a job at his dad’s firm, and save up for a ring.  Mom and Dad were gonna loan us the money for a down payment on a house.”

“Sounds like they had everything figured out for you,” Eddie observed.  His voice sounded casual, but the white-knuckled grip he had on his napkin said otherwise.  “So what changed your mind?”

“You did.”

Eddie leaned forward, the front legs of his chair hitting the floor with a thump.  “‘Scuse me?”

“You did,” she repeated, cheeks warm.  “All those times we hung out in the woods behind the track.  You used to talk about all these big dreams you had.  Get out of Hawkins.  Move to the city.  Find your big break.”  Those were the times when he was the most animated: hair flying in his face, hands gesticulating fiercely, pacing like a big jungle cat crammed into a too-small cage.  “I used to get so jealous, listening to you.”

“You?  Jealous of me?” he demanded.  A small, unsure smile lingered on his lips, like he was waiting for a punchline he wasn’t sure he was going to like.

She nodded eagerly.  “Yeah!  I used to just sit there and think, ‘why can’t I have dreams like that?’  And then… after graduation… you did it.  You left.”  She could still remember the hollow ache in her chest, like Eddie had packed some vital part of her up in his van and drove off with it.  “Once you were gone, I started thinking.  You were always telling me I didn’t have to do what my mom wanted, remember?”

“I remember,” he murmured.

“And I started thinking: why can’t I have dreams like that?  Next thing I knew, I was packing a bag, gathering up my graduation money, and catching a bus out of Hawkins.”  She shrugged.  “You inspired me.  I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

“No shit!” he said, sounding inordinately pleased with himself.  Or maybe with her.  It was hard to tell.  “So where’d you go?”

“All over.  Mostly I just wanted to get as far away from Hawkins as I could.  So I headed east.”  The temptation to head west, to follow Eddie’s footsteps to California, had been overwhelming.  But she’d spent her entire life chasing the dreams of others.  Just once, she’d wanted to follow her own.  “Stayed in New England for a bit.  Then I wanted to keep moving, but it had to be someplace that spoke English, so… I went to England.  Stayed there a few months.  Backpacked through Europe and some of Asia.  I spent about two years in India, and then I got a flight to California.  And now… here I am!”

“Here you are,” he agreed.  He shook his head admiringly.  “Chrissy Cunningham, world traveler.  Unbe-fucking-lievable.”

Just then, the waitress came back with their drinks and food.  Eddie set aside his mangled napkin and started picking the paper liner off his chocolate chip muffin.  Condensation beaded on the clear plastic cup of his iced mocha.

“So what about you?” Chrissy prompted, nibbling on a corner of her scone.  “I mean, I know Corroded Coffin took off.  How’d that happen?”

He ducked his head, hiding his face in his hair.  “Well, we’re no Black Sabbath, but we do alright,” he said.  “Not really much to tell, to be honest.  It sucked at first - four dudes living out of a van, crammed in like sardines with our instruments and equipment, playing dive bars and getting paid in beer tickets.”

“Oh my god, Eddie.”  She couldn’t imagine sticking it out for so long.  She’d never fought for something so hard in her life.  “How long did that go on for?”

“Um… let’s see, about… two years.  But we made it through.  We made it through.”  Popping a chunk of muffin in his mouth, he chewed and swallowed.  On the tabletop, his long fingers were busily shredding the muffin liner.  “In the end, we got lucky.  A well-known band in the local metal scene needed an opening act, and they happened to see us play.  That concert gave us a small following, and everything else sort of fell into place.”  He took a sip of his drink.  “Like I said: pure, dumb luck.”

Chrissy shook her head.  “No way.  Maybe lucky that the right person saw you, but you were there because you stuck with your dream.  Even when things got hard.”  Reaching across the table, she took one of her hands in his.  He turned his hand palm-up so their fingers could brush.  His fingertips were warm and rough… and sticky from his muffin.  “You didn’t get lucky.  You’re tenacious.”

Eddie snorted.  “Tenacious, huh?  Wayne would probably call it ‘being a stubborn jackass.’  Tenacious sounds better.”  

“Tenacious, stubborn - either way, you had a dream, and you went out and did what you needed to do to accomplish it.  I always said you could do whatever you put your mind to.”

He smiled, then - a silly, lopsided grin that made his dark eyes crinkle.  “Yeah, you did,” he agreed.

For a while, the two of them sat in companionable silence, enjoying their drinks.  At one point, Eddie stretched his legs, muttering an apology when his foot bumped hers.  He made to pull back, and Chrissy wasn’t about to let him get away with that.  She trapped his foot between both of her own, letting him know in no uncertain terms that she wanted him to stay right there.

He cleared his throat.  “So.  Last night.”

“Last night,” she echoed, leaning her elbows on the table.  “I had a really good time.  I wouldn’t mind doing it again, sometime.”

Eddie gave her a long, scrutinizing look.  “What, exactly, are you looking for?” he asked.  “Because I’ll level with you: last night was great - really, really great - but if you’re just looking for a casual, one-time thing… I’m out of that game.  If that’s all you want, that’s fine - I can walk away now.  I can even help you find someone - “

“No!”  The word was out of her mouth before she knew it.  “No, that’s not what I’m after at all.  Honestly, I wasn’t even gonna do anything last night.  Mostly, I was just looking to watch, maybe talk a little.  Get to know someone for a little while before I did anything, you know?”

Eddie frowned, tapping the blunt ends of his black-painted nails against the tabletop.  “So what made you change your mind?”

That question hit a little too close for comfort.  What was she supposed to say?  That for all this time, while he’d been neck-deep in groupies and admirers, she’d held a torch for him?  That she always kept things casual with past lovers because she couldn’t let go of the one that got away?

Pathetic.

She elected for a simpler truth.  A safer truth.  “I trust you.  I know that I can let myself go around you and I don’t have to worry.”  She shrugged with forced nonchalance.  “I’m safe with you.”

“Definitely,” he agreed.  “So it sounds like we’re both on the same page: no flings, no one-night stands.  But what about specifics?  What are you looking for in a Dom?”

“More of what happened last night,” she admitted.  Her eyes dropped to the table, and she watched herself twiddle her thumbs anxiously.  “I, um, I like being told what to do.  I like being pushed to my limits.  Humiliation… humiliation is good, but it has to be the right kind.”

“And what’s the right kind?” he asked.

She flushed.  “It’s… hard to explain,” she mumbled.

“Try.”

She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.  It was easy to talk about what turned her on physically.  But her emotional needs?  That was a whole different ball game.  “Um… you know.  Rough handling.  Making me crawl.  Spitting or… or coming on my face.  Name-calling, but not insulting, you know?  I don’t… want to be made to feel bad about myself.”  She swallowed hard.  Oh god, there were tears in her eyes!  Eddie was going to think she was absolutely nuts.  She blinked them back frantically.  “I want to be dominated… but I need to feel like I matter.  During and after.”

“You want someone to take care of you.  Someone who makes you feel wanted.  Yeah?”

Mutely, she nodded.

“Hey.  Look at me.”  Chrissy’s breath caught in her throat.  That was the same tone Eddie had used last night when he’d ordered her to climb into his lap.  Just like then, she was helpless to resist.  His eyes, when they met hers, were nearly black.  It felt like every last drop of his attention was focused solely on her.  It was a heady feeling.  His tongue darted out to lick his lips.  “That’s… that’s not a problem.  That’s the exact opposite of a problem.”

“Okay,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.  She felt something in her soul unclench at his words.  “So… what about you?  What are you looking to get out of this?”

He shrugged.  “Same thing, more or less.  I’m pretty open-minded when it comes to the specifics.  Chances are, if my sub’s having a good time, I’m having a good time.”  He clicked his tongue thoughtfully.  “One last question.  Are you looking for a 24/7 thing, or what?”

Chrissy chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip.  “24/7… no.  Definitely not.  I can submit during a scene, but I need to be my own person in between.  That’s non-negotiable.”

“Oh, thank god,” he muttered.  “Works for me.  I don’t even have my own shit together.  I don’t think I could run somebody else’s.”  He grinned, inviting her to share the joke.  When she didn’t laugh, he sobered.  “Seriously though.  I get it.  I’m not looking to run your life, Chrissy.  Even if you asked for that, it’s not something I could give.”

Chrissy nodded.  It sounded like they were on the same page - at least physically.  Emotionally… well, they’d cross that bridge when they got to it.  If they got to it.

“So,” she asked, a little breathlessly, “what happens now?”

Eddie scrunched his nose in thought.  “The band’s got a recording deadline coming up, and we still haven’t worked all the kinks out of the music yet.  I’m probably gonna be pulling a lot of nights.  The soonest I can get away is Saturday.”

Chrissy swallowed back her disappointment and forced a smile.  Saturday was nearly a week away.  She’d really hoped that they could get together sooner than that.

Internally, she scolded herself.  The band was Eddie’s livelihood, just as surely as yoga classes at the gym were hers.  Just as important, music was his passion.  She didn’t want to get in the way of that, and she doubted he’d appreciate it if she tried.

This wasn’t high school, she reminded herself.  Going on one date - two, if she counted last night - didn’t mean they were dating.  She just had to be patient.

“Saturday works for me,” she said with forced cheerfulness.

He grinned.  “Cool.  My place, or yours?”

Chrissy pulled a face at that.  From what she saw last night, his place was much nicer than hers.  Not quite a mansion, but it was even bigger than her parents’ house back in Hawkins.  

She wasn’t ashamed of her studio apartment.  It was her space, her private sanctuary, and she’d made it her own.  But a tiny apartment with barely enough room for her pull-out bed wasn’t exactly conducive to the kind of things she hoped to get up to with Eddie.

“Your place?” she suggested.

“Works for me.  Pick you up at seven?”  She nodded.  Glancing at the watch with the thick leather strap on his wrist, he grimaced.  “Listen, I’ve gotta run.  Band wants to get together in… twenty minutes, and it takes fifteen to get there.  But, uh… can I call you?”

“Absolutely.”  Snagging a napkin from the dispenser, she rummaged around in her purse for something to write with.  She didn’t have a pen, but she managed to find a lip pencil.  She scrawled her number on it.  The notion of pressing the napkin to her lips to leave a lipstick mark popped into her head, and was quickly discarded.  She handed the napkin to him.  “I don’t have an answering machine, so if I don’t pick up, I’m not home.”

“Gotcha.”  Eddie stood up and circled around the table to her.  Between her sitting down and his greater height, he positively towered over her.  She found she really liked the feeling.  “I’ll see you on Saturday, sunshine.”  Bending at the knees and waist, he leaned forward, hesitated, and pressed his lips to her cheek.  Chrissy fisted her hands at her sides to keep from plunging them into his hair and keeping him with her.  When he pulled back, he gave her a week.  “Later.”

“Bye.”  Chrissy watched as he went out the door, heading to his car with a bounce in his step.  Her hand went to her cheek, where she could still feel the warm press of his lips and the light rasp of his facial hair.  Her heart was fluttering in her chest, and her stomach felt like it was coated in warm, sweet, sticky caramel.

“Oh, girl, you are getting in deep,” she muttered to herself as she finished off her tea.  Already, she was jittery with nerves for Saturday, and it was five days away.  “Get a grip, Chrissy.  It’s just sex,” she hissed, picking up the remains of her food and chucking it in the waste basket.

But as she left the cafe and turned down the sidewalk toward home, she knew she was fooling herself yet again.  No matter how hard she tried to deny it, she knew that there could be no such thing as just sex with Eddie Munson.

Chapter Text

It was Thursday night when Eddie finally had a chance to call Chrissy.

He’d been dying to call her since pretty much the moment he’d stepped out of the coffee shop.  But recording sessions were murder; he was basically working sixteen-hour days.  Sometimes more.  Get up, shower, shave, get dressed, and head to the studio.  Then it was a whole day of playing, adjusting, fine-tuning, bitching at his band mates and getting bitched at in return, and playing some more, until they quit for the night and he staggered home to faceplant into his king-sized bed.  Six or seven hours later, he was getting back up to do it all over again.

Whoever said that doing what you loved meant never working a day in your life was full of shit.  Eddie lived for his music.  It was his passion, his drive, his reason for being.  Nothing beat the rush of having a song finally come together after weeks or months of experimentation.  And like with DnD - and hell, like with BDSM - he loved sharing the fruits of his labor with people who shared that passion.  But it was still work.  It was still hours upon hours of blood, sweat, and tears that went into every goddamn note.  And that was the fun part.  He didn’t even want to think about all the interviews and ass-kissing he’d have to do once the album was ready to go.

But he didn’t want to think about that just now.  They’d made good progress today, and their manager had grudgingly let them out early.  Now Eddie was a weird, jittery mix of completely exhausted and totally fucking wired.  He was always useless when he was like this - too awake to sleep, too tired to do anything remotely productive.  

Time to finally call the number that had been burning a hole in his pocket and his mind all week.

When he got home from recording, he kicked his sneakers off at the door.  Padding tiredly through the living room to the kitchen, he rummaged through the freezer for a frozen pizza and popped it in the oven.  Normally, he liked to cook for himself.  Sure, with the money from his music pouring in, he could afford to splurge on eating out or getting delivery.  But Wayne would kick his ass if he let the money and fame make him forget where he came from.  He might have money, but he still tried to live within his means.  Still, these long hours made him too damn tired to cook.  So frozen pizza it was.

Once the pizza was done, he sliced it up, plated it, and headed upstairs to his bedroom.  Shucking his ripped jeans so he was dressed in just his boxers and an old T-shirt with cutoff sleeves, he collapsed onto his bed with a bounce.  His hunger got the best of him, and he jammed the entire first slice of pizza into his mouth whole, practically unhinging his jaw like a python.  The second went nearly as fast, and soon he’d polished off the whole thing.

Hunger taken care of, he groped blindly around his nightstand, his fingers wrapping around the increasingly worn bit of paper he kept there.  He stared at the napkin Chrissy had given him, one finger tracing her phone number where she’d written it in waxy pink lip liner.  Not that he needed the reminder.  He knew the number by heart.  His eyes had practically burned holes in the cheap napkin from how much time he’d spent staring at it for the past few days.

He was trying to play it cool.  Normally, that was a non-issue; all of his previous arrangements had been relatively casual.  Long-term?  Sometimes.  Exclusive?  Usually.  But casual.  This was the first time there were actual feelings involved.  At least from his end.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he had his bedside phone cradled between his ear and his shoulder, and he’d already dialed her number.  

She answered on the second ring.  “Hello?”

He leaned back against his pillows and headboard, one leg stretched out while the other knee was crooked.  “Hey, Chrissy.  It’s, uh, it’s me.  Eddie.”

“Eddie!  I was hoping you’d call!”  The happiness in her tone was downright flattering.  Well… flattering might not be the most accurate word, but it was more dignified than saying that it made him melt into a warm, goopy puddle on his bed.  “Is everything alright?”

He frowned, fidgeting with one of his rings.  “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well… it is almost midnight,” she remarked.  “Most people don’t call this late.”

“Shit, is it?”  Glancing at the clock on his nightstand confirmed it: it was quarter to twelve.  “Shit.  Sorry about that.  I’ve been getting out of sessions at like four in the morning all week.  I had no clue it was so late.  I can call back - “

“Don’t worry about it,” she interrupted.  “Moving from India time to California time has made me sort of a night owl.  I wasn’t planning on going to sleep anytime soon.”  Over the line he heard the creak of mattress springs, as if she was making herself comfortable.  “So.  We still on for Saturday?”

“You know it!” Relief swept over him in a wave.  Not that he’d been actively worrying that she’d cancel.  Honestly, recording kept him too busy to entertain such thoughts.  Still, the worry had lurked in the shadows of his mind, waiting for a vulnerable moment to strike.  But Chrissy had managed to shoo it away with just a few words.  “I was thinking of keeping things sort of open, if that’s cool.  I can make dinner, we can rent a few movies, and just… see what happens.  Yeah?”

He wondered if he was taking things too far.  They’d agreed to bang at his place; dinner and a movie weren’t exactly high on his list of top ten kinky sex moves.  Dinner and movie were what you did on a date.  

Well… fuck it.  He was done with casual flings, with careful “arrangements” where feelings were dumped at the door.  He doubted he had another one of those in him.  Eddie was sick to death of being wanted just for what was on the surface: the rockstar, the bad boy, the attentive Dom.  He needed something deeper, something more.  

Maybe he’d find that with Chrissy.  Maybe not.  Either way, he needed to know if they were on the same page.  If that wasn’t what she was after… well, no point in wasting both their time.

He hoped that wasn’t the case.  She’d seemed happy to see him both times they met.  Besides, hadnt she been the one to call their coffee meetup a date?

If he had any balls whatsoever, he’d ask her outright.  But when he opened his mouth to ask, his tongue sat in his mouth, too fat and stupid to form the words.

“Sounds good to me,” she agreed readily.  “Can I bring anything?  Wine?  Dessert?”

Eddie chuckled.  It was just like Chrissy to want to be the perfect house guest.  He still remembered back in senior year - his third - when she’d sneak out of her house at night to come smoke with him at his trailer.  Creeping through the trailer park after dark, resolutely avoiding the gaze of the red-haired neighbor girl as if that would stop her from being recognized.  And every time she slipped clandestinely through his front door, it was with a fucking thank you gift for hosting her.  Hosting!  As if he was entertaining her with party games instead of weed and movies and metal, feeding her vol—au-vents instead of Velveeta mac and cheese.  But every time without fail, she’d have some sort of gift: house plants, scented candles, boxes of fancy candies he’d usually demolish when he was stoned out of his mind.

Remembering those times with a fond smile, he told her exactly what he used to tell her back then: “Just bring yourself.  You know I don’t stand on ceremony.”

“There must be something I can bring,” she insisted.

A second refusal was on the tip of his tongue.  But knowing Chrissy, she’d just ignore him and bring something anyway.  A devious thought popped into his mind: a way he could twist her need to be a good house guest to his advantage.  Hopefully, to both their advantages.

“How about this: when I pick you up, I want you wearing your favorite pair of panties.”

Realistically, he knew that not every woman had a favorite pair of panties.  Hell, it wasn’t like he had a favorite set of boxers.  But if there was one thing he knew about Chrissy, it was that she liked delicate, pretty things.  What she’d worn the last two times they met proved that that hadn’t changed.  There was no doubt in his mind that she owned nice underthings, or that she had a favorite among them.  He was dying to see them for himself.

“My favorite?” she asked, a breathless tone in her voice that had him twitching in his boxers.

“Mmhmm.  Whichever ones you like best.  Oh,” he added as if he’d just thought of it, “and keep your hands off that pretty little pussy in the meantime.  I don’t want you coming until I see you again.”

“‘Til Saturday?  That’s two days from now!”

Eddie scrubbed a hand over his stupid-looking grin, feeling his ears heat.  If Chrissy was balking at two days without touching herself… then that meant that she planned on doing exactly that.  Had she already touched herself this week?  Thinking of him - of what they’d already done, of what they could do together?  The thought set his heart racing in his chest, had him tenting his underwear.

When he spoke again, his voice had a husky note that took him by surprise.  “Only good girls get a spanking ‘til their ass turns cherry red.  Only good girls get to feel their Daddy’s cock wherever they want it,” he informed her.  Her quiet gasp sent a frisson of excitement down his spine.  “You wanna be my good girl, don’t you?”

“You don’t play fair,” she accused with a quiet moan.  He could practically see the way her nose scrunched in pique.

“Never said I did.  Answer the question, princess.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Yes, Daddy, what?”

He could hear the shy, embarrassed smile in her voice.  “Yes, Daddy, I want to be your good girl.”

“That’s my girl.”  

She made a small, needy sound that went straight to his cock.  Licking his lips, he wondered if she’d be able to get herself off just with the sound of his voice over the phone.  The idea of it had him hotter than he’d been in ages: her in her bed, writhing under her own fingers with his name on her lips…  He could still hear the sound of her voice as she climaxed in his dreams, and he was beyond eager to hear it again.  Suddenly, Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.

But he’d made her promise not to touch herself.  They’d have to save phone sex for some other time.  The next time she came, he wanted to be the one to push her over the edge.

Over the phone, he could hear Chrissy taking long, steadying breaths.  “Well, fine,” she finally said.  “If you’re just gonna tease me, maybe I’ll hang up.”  Despite her words, her tone held no heat, and she showed no signs of hanging up.

Still, he held his hands up in surrender.  He didn’t want to give up this time with Chrissy just yet, even if it was just on the phone.  “Alright, alright, you win.  Why don’t you tell me about your week?”

They spent the next hour chatting on the phone.  Eddie told her all about the long hours he’d been pulling in the studio, how Corroded Coffin’s latest album was coming together.  In return, Chrissy told him about her own work.  Apparently, she worked at a local gym as a yoga instructor.  

“I really love it,” she said, and he could hear the passion bleeding through in her voice.  “All my life I’ve felt like my body didn’t really belong to me.  Like it was there for other people.  Cheer squad, the basketball team… Jason… my mom.”  Eddie’s stomach curdled at how small and meek her voice got when she named the last two.  “Yoga taught me to take control back.  To love my body for what it is and what it can do, instead of hating it for numbers on a scale.  I love being able to use that to help other people.”

“That’s… that’s awesome, Chris.  Seriously.  I’m so fucking proud of you.”

And he meant it, from the bottom of his heart.  She’d confided in him in those last few months of high school.  One night, they’d polished off a twelve pack of beers together at his trailer, and suddenly he’d had a lapful of Chrissy sobbing her heart out into his hair.  He’d held her while she confessed the fucked up mess that was her home life, feeling enraged at how goddamn helpless he was.  He’d wanted desperately to help her back then.  But he was just an idiot kid, head buzzing with booze.  So he’d offered her what little he could: an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, and a couch to crash on whenever she needed it.  She took him up on the first two pretty often, but never the last.  If she had, she’d’ve known that he would’ve insisted on taking the couch himself.  He even bought a new set of sheets for his bed, just in case.

It had fucking killed him to drive away from Hawkins all those years ago.  To leave her behind when she needed him to stay.  But staying in Hawkins was a slow death, not just for his dreams, but for his soul.  He’d needed to get out of there before the town swallowed him whole.  Only the knowledge that he’d be living in squalor had tamped down his urge to beg her to come with him.

But in the end, he hadn’t needed to.  She’d clawed her way to freedom, and found herself in doing so.  His heart swelled in his chest just thinking of the genuine happiness he saw shining in her stormy gray eyes.  Not the cheery mask she’d worn to hide her troubles back in high school, but true joy.  He couldn’t wait to get to know this new, vibrant, confident Chrissy.

And best of all, they’d found their way back to each other against all odds.  He already knew he was in way over his head.  It had to be… what, thirteen, fourteen years he’d been nursing this crush?  If he wasn’t careful, he was in real danger of falling head over heels for Chrissy Cunningham.

If he hadn’t already.

Chrissy spoke, interrupting his thoughts.  “I… Thanks, Eddie.  That means the world to me.”

Not knowing what to say, Eddie said nothing.  But that was okay.  He suspected he didn’t need to.

For nearly a full minute, he sat in silence on his bed, listening to the soft sound of her breathing through the phone speaker.  His bed had never felt bigger, his bedroom so echoingly empty.  He wondered if Chrissy wished she was here half as strongly as he did.

“Well… I should probably let you go.  I’ve got work tomorrow,” Chrissy said, sounding about as eager as if she said she was going in for a root canal.  “But… I’ll see you on Saturday?  At seven?”

Eddie’s heart, which had sank when she made her excuse to hang up, was buoyed again by the hope in her voice.  “Saturday at seven,” he confirmed.  “A pack of ravening gnolls couldn’t keep me away.” 

“No clue what a gnoll is, so I’ll take your word for it,” she giggled.  A pause.  Then, “Good night, Eddie.”

“Night, Chrissy.”

Hanging up the phone reluctantly, he let himself fall back against his pillow with a soft whump.  A stupid, soppy grin stretched across his face.  There was no way in hell he was getting to sleep any time soon.  Jumping out of bed, he strode across the room to his dresser, where his TV sat.  Switching it and his Super Nintendo on, he tried to lose himself in a game of Mario Kart.  But even racing go-carts across the mushroom kingdom couldn’t slow his racing thoughts.

Two more days.  Two more days, and the girl of his dreams would be in his home.  In his bed.  Tomorrow he might be nervous, and Saturday he might be reminding himself not to get his hopes up too high.

But for tonight, he was pure, giddy excitement.

Friday went by at a crawl, but Saturday afternoon was over in a swift heartbeat.  Before he knew it, it was time to get ready for his date with Chrissy.

Wearing nothing but his boxers, hair still slightly damp from his shower, Eddie stepped into his small walk-in closet with a grimace.  He didn’t really have much in the way of nice clothes.  Most of his pants were jeans with the knees ripped by his own two hands.  That, and the leather pants he wore to gigs and play parties.  Mostly, though, he was a jeans and T-shirts guy.  No dress slacks or polo shirts for him.  If Chrissy was expecting him to bust out a three-piece suit for the occasion, she was gonna be sorely disappointed.

Well, fuck it.  She knew who he was, and she knew how he dressed.  She hadn’t had a problem with it last week.  If she did now… oh well.

He briefly considered wriggling his ass into a pair of leather pants.  She’d liked the ones he wore at the play party well enough.  But one look at the sweltering sun outside put the thought from his mind.  Leather didn’t breathe for shit; if he wore it out in the California heat, he’d be doing neither of them any favors.

In the end, he settled for a pair of jeans with decorative leather lace-ups going up the sides, and the white button-down shirt and black blazer he usually saved for times he had to pucker up and kiss the record label’s ass.  He didn’t bother buttoning it more than halfway.  Couple of silver chain necklaces, some of his less ostentatious silver rings, and a worn, comfortable pair of Vans, and he was ready to go.

The drive to Chrissy’s place passed in a blur.  He couldn’t remember a single turn, a single beat of the music playing on his stereo.  But he was excruciatingly aware of the clamminess of his palms on the steering wheel, the anxious jiggling of his left leg.  

Pulling up to the address Chrissy had given, Eddie scoped the place out.  

Eddie was lucky enough to live in one of LA’s nicer neighborhoods.  Not the Hollywood Hills by any stretch, but he still owned his own modest-sized house with a decent sized backyard and pool.  

Chrissy, on the other hand, lived in a shady-looking apartment building.  It wasn’t in one of LA’s rougher neighborhoods, like the dive bars where Corroded Coffin had started out.  But it couldn’t be what Chrissy was used to.

He pulled up to the curb and threw his car into park.  But before he could even think to get out of the car, a flutter of white caught his eye.  It was Chrissy, looking absolutely stunning in a short, cream-colored sundress with spaghetti straps.  No, not spaghetti straps - ribbons.  Thin, off-white ribbons tied into pretty bows at her shoulders.  And down the front, from neckline to hem, a column of little cloth-covered buttons that just begged to be popped open one by one.  Even the cream-colored wedge sandals she wore were held on with shiny satin ribbons.  She looked like a gift just waiting to be unwrapped.  

Eddie hadn’t gotten many wrapped gifts in his life.  His old man wasn’t the gift-giving type, and by the time he moved in with Wayne, Eddie insisted that he was too old to waste wrapping paper on.  But unwrapping Chrissy, inch by inch, would make up for the years he went without.  His fingers twitched on the steering wheel.

As he took in the sight of her, he realized that she hadn’t spotted him.  She was standing right outside the door of her dull gray apartment building, arms hugged around her waist, nibbling at her lower lip in a distracting way.  

Was she… was she nervous?  About their date?  Some emotion fluttered in his stomach, halfway between hope and abject terror.  If she was as nervous as he was… it could only mean…

He shook the thought out of his head.  No sense getting ahead of himself.  He climbed out of the car.  The moment he did, Chrissy’s eyes met his.  A smile spread across her face, which he mirrored helplessly.  In the time it took him to circle around the car and open the door for her, Chrissy rushed over and threw her arms around his neck.  His hands gravitated to the dip of her waist, natural as breathing.  When she rose up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek, he automatically bent over to make it easier.  The delicate, floral scent of her shampoo washed over him, and he found himself holding his breath, trying to keep it inside of him for as long as possible.

After not nearly enough time, they parted, and Eddie gestured grandly to the open car door.  “Princess, your chariot awaits.”  

Chrissy climbed in with a giggle, scrunching her nose at his antics when he shut the door for her with an elaborate bow.  When he got in on the driver’s side, she beamed at him.  “I’m really glad we’re doing this,” she confided.

He quirked a grin at her.  “Me too.”  

Starting the car, he threw it into gear and pulled smoothly into traffic.  When he did, Chrissy shot him a look of surprise.  

“What, no squealing tires?  No burning rubber?  You used to take off like a bat out of hell in that van of yours,” she remarked, eyes glinting mischievously.

He snorted.  “Yeah, I learned pretty quick that you can’t get away with that shit as easy around here,” he retorted.  “Only took… I wanna say three tickets for me to get the hint.”  He jerked his head in the direction they were driving.  “Anyway.  I figured we could rent a movie, head back to my place, and sort of take things from there.  Cool?”

“Just like old times,” she said.  He couldn’t see her face - his eyes were focused on the traffic - but the soft fondness in her tone made him feel warm all over.

“More or less,” he agreed.  Movie nights at the Munson trailer had become a regular thing in the last months of school.  Movies, weed, and snacks when he could convince her to eat - and always, a listening ear if she needed it. 

But the events of last weekend cast tonight in a whole new color.  His heart gave a jolt in his chest, followed by a corresponding twitch in his pants.

Down, boy, he ordered himself.  No need to rush.  We’ve got all night.

They spent about twenty minutes at the video store trying to decide what to watch.  Having spent so long out of the country, Chrissy was behind on releases from the past several years.  Eventually, they settled on The Addams Family.

“Trust me, you’ll love it.  It’s funny, it’s sexy, and it’s all about a family of freaks doing what makes them happy,” he told her.

She nodded.  “As long as it’s not scary.  I don’t like being scared when I’m… you know.”

He nodded.  He knew from both first and secondhand experience that coming down from the high of subspace could be a lot like other highs.  It could leave the mind in a delicate, vulnerable state that could turn bad if one wasn’t careful.  In his early days domming, he’d made the mistake once of blasting metal music when his sub was still recovering.  It had taken nearly an hour to calm the overwrought man down.

Movie in hand, they were ready to go back to Eddie’s place.  The drive was quick, and before they knew it, they were pulling up to Eddie’s white, single-story house.  

“Your castle got a bit of an upgrade, I see,” she observed.

He blinked at her in surprise.  Holy shit - did she really remember that stupid joke he’d made the first time she came to his trailer seven years ago?  He remembered every detail of that night, but never in a million years did he expect her to.  It’d been a dumb crack to break the tension of his own embarrassment - dragging Queen Bee Chrissy Cunningham to his shitty-ass trailer in the middle of the night.

Telling himself not to look too much into it, he pulled the car into the garage, parked it, and killed the ignition.  “I do alright,” he demurred.  “Place is a bit big for just me, but I can’t practice in an apartment.  Too noisy.  Anyway, it beats living out of a van.”

“I bet,” she said.  Tilting her head coquettishly to one side, she looked up at him through her lashes.  “So… you wanna give me a tour?”

Eddie swallowed.  He knew what that look meant.  A woman didn’t look at him like that unless she was looking to get into his pants.  And while he definitely wasn’t against it, he’d sort of expected that to come at the end of the night.

“You, uh… you didn’t wanna eat first?” he asked.

He watched in fascination as her face went beet red.  Head bowed, she stared down at her clasped hands, twiddling her thumbs nervously.  “I, um… it’s…”  She swallowed hard.  “It’s important for my recovery that I eat when I’m hungry.  Eating when I’m not hungry, or not eating when I am hungry… it throws me off.”

Eddie looked at her in silence for a minute, brows furrowed.  Chrissy looked tense as a bowstring, like she expected him to lash out at her for telling him what she needed.  It was a look he’d seen on her countless times back in Hawkins.  He’d always hated seeing it on her, seeing the way she shrunk in on herself, as if hating every inch of space she took up. 

It was also a good reminder that, no matter how far she’d come in the past seven years, she still had emotional scars from that time.  They both did.  

“Hey.”  Taking her chin gently in his fingertips, he tilted her face until she was looking at him.  Her jaw felt impossibly small in his long fingers.  “Say no more.  We eat when you’re hungry.  Alright?”  Mutely, she nodded.  Sensing that she could use a little reassurance, Eddie pulled her close and placed a comforting kiss to her hair.  Maybe that was overstepping.  Fuck if he knew; he was completely out of his depth here.  But if Chrissy objected, she was good at hiding it.  “Now: how about that tour?”

They started out in the in-law suite attached to the garage, which Eddie had had converted into a practice space.  Here was where he stored his guitars, amps, pedals, and various recording equipment, all in a sound-proofed room with an adjoining kitchen and bathroom.

Next was the main area of the house - an open-concept combination of living room, dining room, and kitchen.  As soon as she saw it, Chrissy burst out laughing.

Eddie frowned, looking around and trying to see what she saw.  “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she said, dabbing a mirthful tear from her eye.  “It’s just so… you.”

“Meaning…?”

She gestured around her with a wide, sweeping motion.  “Look around!  Blood red walls.  Black leather couch.  Black coffee table and entertainment center.  Black dining room table and chairs.  Black countertops.  Black carpeting - “

“The label called it charcoal,” he defended.

She chortled.  “Oh, okay then.  Light black carpets.  My mistake.”  With a teasing grin, she went back to pointing out his taste in decor.  “Band posters instead of photos.  CDs stacked on every flat surface.  Not a blanket or throw pillow in sight.”  She bumped his arm playfully with one shoulder.  “Like I said, it’s so you.  If you’d asked me to describe your place without seeing it, this is pretty much what I would’ve guessed.”

Last were the three bedrooms.  The one on the left was a simple guest bedroom, the bed stripped bare of sheets and blankets.  In the middle was the smallest bedroom, which he’d turned into a room for all of his D&D stuff.  

“I don’t get to play much, anymore, but I still like to draft up campaigns and paint miniatures,” he confessed.  “Helps me unwind.”

Chrissy looked around with polite interest.  Still, when he guided her to the final room, she followed him eagerly.

“And this… is my room,” he announced.  

Chrissy walked around the room, looking around without seeming to see a thing.  When she turned to face him, one hand strayed upward to toy with the top button on her pretty white sundress.  His eyes honed in on the movement, hoping she wouldn’t start popping those little cloth buttons open.

He wanted to do that himself.

“So what now?” she asked, eyes dark and lips parted.  Her fingers still played with that damn button.

Slipping on the mask of the Dom came easily.  Eddie had a lot of practice putting on masks over the years, and he had a wide selection to choose from.  The Freak.  The Drug Dealer.  The Semi-Famous Guitarist.  The Dungeon Master.  And the Dominant.  All of them were parts of who he was.  But each was only an individual facet of the whole, polished and shined to a mirror finish to reflect what people wanted to see.  What they needed.

Eddie liked being needed - craved it, even.  It was why he started Hellfire and Corroded Coffin, why he searched for lost little freaks who needed a badass shepherd to guide them, why he started selling drugs when Wayne’s paycheck wasn’t enough to keep them both fed.  When people needed you - needed something you could offer - they wouldn’t throw you away.  Wouldn’t leave.  Maybe it wasn’t the same as being wanted, but it beat the hell out of the alternative.

Right now, Chrissy needed.  And he was all too happy to provide.

“That depends,” he said, shrugging out of his blazer and chucking it carelessly on the dresser.  His necklaces clinked together at the movement.  Turning to her, he drank in her appearance from head to toe.  Her long, coppery-gold hair curled around her mostly bare shoulders, not quite hiding those thin ribbon straps from view.  The bodice of her dress hugged her waist before flaring out in a skirt that ended at mid-thigh.  An endless expanse of creamy, toned legs (seriously - how could her legs be so short but still seem to go on forever?) ended in heeled sandals tied with more white silk ribbons.

Buttons, ribbons, and frills.  She looked like a dessert, and Eddie wanted to devour her whole.  And he hadn’t forgotten - underneath the dress, she was wearing her favorite pair of panties.  He couldn’t wait to see what they looked like.

“That depends on if you did what I asked,” he clarified, coming to stand before her.  Even with her heels, he still loomed over her.  “Tell me: were you a good girl, or a bad girl?”

Chrissy’s lips parted on a gasp, and a rosy pink blush spread across her cheeks like the first light of dawn.  She nibbled her lower lip in thought.  “What do good girls get?”

Eddie wasted no time.  Plunging one hand into the hair at the back of her head and grasping her hip with the other, he bent down and licked a long, slow stripe up the pale column of her throat, reveling in the way she trembled at his touch.  Just as fascinating - he could feel the waistline of her panties through the thin material of her skirt.  There was an odd shape there at her hipbone, something he hadn’t felt before.  A lump of fabric, maybe.

When his mouth reached her ear, he hissed: “Good girls get whatever they ask for.”

“And,” Chrissy said, sounding breathless, “what do bad girls get?”

He hid a grin in the fragrant skin of her throat.  So - Chrissy Cunningham didn’t always like to play the good girl, hmm?  Good to know.  

With the hand at the back of her head, he yanked her head back, baring her throat to him.  Her wince was immediately followed by a groan.  “Color?” he murmured.

“Green,” she replied, her lips curling in an eager smile.

He nipped at the junction of her neck and shoulder - hard enough to sting and pinken the skin, just shy of leaving a lasting mark.  Her breathy little whimper was like music to his ears.  “Bad girls take whatever their Daddy gives them,” he growled.  He gave her hair another tug, a thrill of savage victory going through him when her hands came up to grip his arms.  “Answer the question, little girl.  I won’t ask again.”

Pulling back a little, he looked in her eyes.  He could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she weighed her options, trying to decide just how tonight should go down.

Clearly she came to a decision, because she looked at him with a sweet smile, a pretty pink blush staining her cheeks.  

“I’ve been a good girl for you, Daddy.  Please may I have a spanking?”

Eddie perched on the edge of his bed, a grin pulling at his lips.  Chrissy moved to drape herself over his lap, just like she had that first night.  He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, wagging a finger at her.  “Ah-ah-ah.  Don’t you think you’re a bit overdressed?  Besides, you still have something to show me.”

She bit her lip around a shy, excited smile.  The sight of those slightly crooked teeth sinking into the pink plushness of her lower lip made him want to do some nibbling on his own.

Could he?  Could he kiss her?  It seemed ridiculous to think he couldn’t, when she was on a date with him, in his bedroom, smiling at him like he was the only person in the world who mattered.  But he’d misread those signals before, and he had no desire to do it again.  A scene was about sex and control, but a kiss was intimacy.  His past subs had wanted no part of that with him.  Each refusal had been its own minor heartbreak, a fracture that he stubbornly refused to let grow into anything significant.

But Chrissy… Chrissy had made a home for herself in the cornerstone of his heart without even knowing it.  If she refused him, the whole damn thing might just crumble to rubble.

No.  Best not to risk it.

When Chrissy reached for the top button of her dress, he closed his fingers over hers to stop her.  She looked at him in surprise.  “You don’t want…?” she asked, trailing off uncertainly.

“Oh, I want,” he assured her with a lascivious grin.  “But undressing you is my job.”  

He patted the spot next to him on the bed, waiting while she settled herself with a bemused smile.  Once she was sitting, he reached down and grabbed her ankles, pivoting her so she was lying on her back with her feet in his lap.  She shrieked in startled delight at his rough handling.

That done, he stared down at her feet.  Her pale skin and the off-white shoes contrasted sharply with the worn, deep blue denim of his jeans.  Long lengths of cream-colored ribbons encircled her dainty ankles, each ending in a perfectly tied bow.  Taking the end of one between thumb and forefinger, he slowly tugged, luxuriating in the silken slide of the ribbon as the knot parted for him readily.  He repeated the action with the other, and slowly unwrapped the ribbons from her ankles, letting the silk glide against her skin.  A small murmur drew his attention from Chrissy’s feet to her face.

She lay back against his pillows, her pale skin and strawberry blonde hair practically aglow against the deep blue of his sheets.  Her eyes darted up and down between his hands and his face.  Lips parting, her tongue darted out to moisten them.  With her soft features, golden hair, and milky white skin, she looked like a… 

“Princess,” he rasped, patting one thigh.  “Come here so I can look at you.”

Toeing her shoes off and letting them fall to the floor with a clunk, Chrissy scrambled across the bed with flattering urgency to straddle his lap.  Small fingers wound themselves in his hair, sending a shiver of pleasure up his spine.  Her skirt fluttered around them, hiding her milky white thighs where they clenched around his as she ground herself against the hard ache pressing insistently against his fly.

Fuck, she was overwhelming!  Warm skin, soft curves, big gray eyes that pierced into his soul.  He’d give anything to have her keep looking at him like that.  He’d sell his fucking soul if he had to.

But if she kept rubbing herself against his cock like that, he was gonna blow in his pants.  Again.  No way he was doing that a second time.  He grabbed her hips, the tips of his fingers biting into the soft, yielding flesh there.  And again, he felt a lump of fabric at each hipbone.  A knot, or maybe a ribbon flower?

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that,” he muttered, his eyes rolling back when she did it again.

She groaned in protest when he stilled her hips, leaning forward to capture his earlobe between her teeth and tug.  The scrape of her incisors sent a bolt of pure need straight to his dick.

Grabbing her hair again, he gave it a warning tug.  “Thought you said you wanted to be my good girl,” he murmured into her ear.  With a grumble, she scooted back just enough to put maybe a millimeter between them.  Her scorching heat still brushed maddeningly  against his rigid length, but at least he wasn’t in danger of losing control.  “That’s it, baby.  There’s my sweet girl,” he praised.  The way she ducked her head shyly at his words sent sweet, liquid warmth flowing through his veins.  “Now, why don’t we get you out of that pretty dress and get you ready for that spanking?”

“Yes, Daddy, please,” she said, pushing her chest out eagerly so he could attack the buttons down her front.

Eddie didn’t start there, though.  He’d been dreaming of this moment for too damn long to rush things now.  Besides - those ribbons holding her dress up had been driving him crazy since the second he laid eyes on her.  Brushing her hair off her shoulders, he took a moment to admire the softness of her skin, running teasingly light touches with his fingertips until a wave of goosebumps spread over her arms.  Only then did he take the end of one ribbon and slowly, agonizingly slowly, begin to pull.

If you’d asked Eddie a week ago what he thought of ribbons and bows, he wouldn’t have had much of an answer.  He’d never given them much thought one way or another.  But now, with Chrissy Cunningham sitting patiently in his lap while he unwrapped her like the gift she was, he suspected he might be getting a new turn-on.

When one shoulder was bared, he couldn’t resist anymore.  Leaning in, he latched onto the tender spot where neck met shoulder, sucking and kissing and laving with his tongue.  Chrissy’s hands moved restlessly in his hair as she sighed and leaned into him.  Eddie’s own hands were busy as well - while one slowly undid the ribbon at her other shoulder, his free hand went to the buttons at her front.  One by one he popped the buttons open, his mouth traveling to her collarbone and lower.  Chrissy rose up to her knees, and Eddie could’ve wept when his cock was deprived of the delicious pressure of her cunt.  But he was mollified when he realized that this new angle let him bury his face in her tits.  If only this damn dress wasn’t in the way.  Chrissy looked gorgeous in it, but if he didn’t see what she looked like out of it, he was gonna lose his mind.

Once he got the buttons undone down to her navel, he pushed both sides of her dress open.  His mouth went dry.  Miles upon miles of creamy, silky smooth skin just begging to be caressed and tasted.  Her breasts were fucking perfect: perky, round, a small handful topped with pale pink nipples he’d sell his soul to kiss.

What surprised him were the silver balls attached to the side of each one.  Never in a million years would he have imagined that Chrissy Cunningham had pierced nipples.

“Are they real?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Chrissy scowled at him without any real heat.  “Did you really just ask me if I have breast implants?”

Shit.  Leave it to Eddie Munson to cram his foot in his mouth when he was about to get lucky.  Better salvage this, and fast.  “No, not these,” he said, cupping her tits in his hands.  Holy fuck - and he thought her shoulders were soft.  His big hands engulfed her as he kneaded gently, his guitar-calloused fingers rasping against her downy skin.  She pressed herself into his touch with a purr.  Taking both her piercings between thumb and forefinger, he gave them a light tug that pulled a groan from her throat and a twitch from her hips.  “I meant these.”

“Oh.  Well, why don’t you see for yourself?” she asked with a saucy smirk. Her hands guided his head down to her chest - not demanding, only hinting - and he was all too happy to give her what she wanted.  He mapped every last inch of her gorgeous breasts with lips and tongue, listening to her sighs and moans to learn what she liked best.  When he finally took one nipple in his mouth, he tugged at the barbell piercing with his teeth, soothing the sting with his tongue.  Chrissy’s nails digging into his scalp spurred him on, and he gave the other one the same treatment.

Soon, she was pressing hard against him, practically straddling his stomach as she rubbed herself against his middle.  The steady rocking movement pushed her dress low, lower, lower, until it slid off her hips.  Reluctantly, Eddie released her nipple with a wet pop so he could finally see what she wore underneath her dress.

Eddie had assumed that Chrissy chose the dress she did in deference to the muggy California heat.  And maybe she did, but that clearly wasn’t the only reason.  She’d worn her favorite pair of panties, just like he asked - but she hadn’t stopped there.  She’d coordinated her entire damn outfit around them.  Because there, hugging the smooth curve of her hips, was a pair of panties in a pink so pale it was nearly white, secured at the sides by still more white ribbons.  The pale silk front was adorned with a golden, floral lace overlay that did nothing to hide the dampness in her gusset.

He’d thought earlier that ribbons were becoming a slight turn-on for him.  Scratch that; he wanted to undo the bows at her hips with his teeth.  He’d never be able to look at a Christmas display again without getting a raging hard-on.

“Oh, you are a good girl, aren’t you?” he growled, tugging her hard against him.  “I think you’ve earned a reward.  You still want that spanking, little girl?”

She nodded.  “Yes, Daddy.”

“Then lay across my lap.”  She did exactly as he said, draping herself over his thighs as if they’d done this a hundred times before.  Her side pressed against his cock, which reminded him with an insistent throb that it had been being neglected this whole time.  

Soon, he promised the greedy thing.  It twitched with a life of its own, as if to say that “soon” wasn’t soon enough.

The sight of Chrissy lying facedown over his lap brought with it a sense of deja vu.  Had it really been a week since the first time they’d done this?  There was a sense of unreality to it all that had him questioning his own sanity.

But even in his wildest dreams he never could’ve imagined this.  Never would’ve thought that Chrissy would be into the same kinks he was.  Never would’ve predicted his visceral reaction to hearing the word “Daddy” in that needy little voice.  

This was real.  He didn’t need to pinch himself to figure that out.  He just couldn’t figure out how he managed to get so damn lucky.

Last time he’d done this, he’d been wearing big, clunky silver rings that could’ve done Chrissy some serious harm if they rotated the wrong way on his fingers.  This time, he prepared accordingly, wearing titanium bands with decorative etchings that shouldn’t hurt her if he cupped his hand right.

Reaching down with his right hand, he caressed the layer of silk still covering her ass.  “Remind me what you‘ll say if it’s too much.”

She nodded.  “Green for good, yellow to slow down, red to stop.  My safe word is backstitch.”

“Good girl.”  Truthfully, he didn’t need the reminder.  Every moment of that first night was burned into his memory permanently.  But he liked to make sure she had the word ready if she needed to use it.  With a single finger, he traced the cleft of her ass, taking note of the way she arched up into his touch when he did.  So, she was sensitive there, was she?  Definitely something he’d want to explore more later.  Another time.  Dipping lower, he ran two fingers over the cloth covering her drenched core, feeling how hot and puffy her lips felt underneath.  “Fuck, princess, is this all for me?”

She nodded again.  “Yes, Daddy, yes.  All for you.”

“Such a greedy little pussy,” he growled hungrily, trailing his fingers up and down.  Chrissy trembled on his lap, struggling to keep still as he teased her.  When he pulled his hand back, she made a whimper of protest that was cut off when he gave her ass a firm, resounding smack.  

He started off slow and easy, just like last time.  He alternated cheeks with each blow, giving her time to recover between each one.  He smoothed his hand over the twin globes of her ass between every slap, enjoying the difference in the feel of her warm skin and the silk of her panties.  With every spank, she instinctively recoiled from the pain, before moaning and arching herself up for more.  

When the first glow of pink became visible outside the edges of her underwear, he picked up the pace.  Soon he fell into a rhythm.  Smack.  Caress.  Smack.  Caress.  The repetition of it was soothing, the jiggle of her bum hypnotic, the music of her whimpers the only sound he could hear.  His cock was hard enough to drive nails, caught in the stranglehold of his tight jeans.  But his own arousal was almost beside the point.  He was in the zone, every neuron of his overactive mind focused on the beautiful woman squirming desperately in his lap.  This was what he craved - pouring every ounce of himself into making his partner feel good.  This was what grounded him.  What gave him purpose.

That his partner was Chrissy fucking Cunningham, the girl of his dreams, made it all so much better.

Under his hand, Chrissy had gone limp and pliant, no longer squirming away from the assault.  She submitted to him completely, taking everything he gave her and taking it beautifully.  Her face was no longer pressed into the mattress; she’d turned it to one side, so he could see her.  The gray of her irises was nearly eclipsed in black, and tears poured freely from her eyes.  Her face was nearly as red as her ass, her skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat.  She looked drugged, out of it, and utterly blissed out.

He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his goddamn life.  Something clenched in his chest, painfully tight.

Gradually, he slowed down the slaps until finally coming to a stop.  Rubbing a hand over her ass, he couldn’t help grinning.  Her skin felt hot to the touch, like she’d been out in the sun too long.  She wouldn’t be sitting comfortably tomorrow, that was for sure.

“You took that so perfectly, sweet girl,” he praised.  Still out of it, Chrissy gave a bleary smile and a wordless sound of contentment.  “So good for me,” he continued as he continued to touch her: counting the notches of her spine, exploring the dip of her waist, sweeping her sweat-damp hair from the back of her neck to help her cool off.  She was soft, warm, pliant, and responsive to his every caress.  Absolutely addictive.  

Once she cooled down, he slipped two fingers between her legs.  His blood went to lava at the wet heat he felt there.  In his lap, Chrissy spread her legs wider, wordlessly begging for more.  

“Such a sweet slut,” he continued, toying slowly with her through the silk.  “Tell you what: since you’ve been so good for me, I’ll let you choose what happens next.  I can get you off with my fingers right here, or… you can suck my cock.”  She gasped quietly at his suggestion.  He couldn’t help wondering which one excited her more.  “Which is it gonna be, little girl?  You wanna cum?  Or do you wanna make me cum?”  All the while, he kept up that slow, maddening rhythm up and down her slit. 

“I - I -“  She cut herself off with a whine of frustration.  “I can’t think when you do that, Daddy!”

“Then I guess you’d better try harder,” he said, not changing up a single thing he was doing to her.

“I want… I… want…”  Her thighs were trembling in an effort to keep still.  “I want to suck your cock.  Please, Daddy, may I?”

Eddie’s eyebrows rose.  Honestly, with how worked up she was, he fully expected her to ask him to finger her.  And honestly, he wouldn’t have minded that one bit.  But he couldn’t deny that the aching in his dick was reaching near-unbearable levels.

Well, if Chrissy was that eager to please, he sure as hell wasn’t going to stop her.  He gave her ass an affectionate pat.  “A good little cockslut, aren’t you?  Alright.  Get on your knees, little girl, and show me what you can do.”

Chrissy slid off his lap and down to the floor, somehow managing to  look graceful while she did it.  Her fingers went to his belt before she hesitated, looking up at him for permission.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged, reaching down to cup her cheek.

She undid his belt with shaking, eager fingers, followed by his fly.  The sudden decrease in pressure brought a sight of relief from him.  Hooking her fingers in his waistband, she tugged his jeans and boxers down around his ankles while Eddie lifted his hips to help.  The moment his cock sprang free of its tight confines, her lust-dark eyes were riveted to it.  With her pupils nearly swallowing her irises whole, she looked like a cat about to pounce on its favorite toy.

She didn’t, though.  Taking his shaft in one small, white hand, she placed a kiss right on the spongy head.  The feel of her soft, plush lips against his cock had Eddie gritting his teeth, his hands fisting in the bedspread on either side of his hips.  He watched, spellbound, as Chrissy rained slow, sweet kisses up and down his cock, interspersing them with tiny, sneaky licks as if she couldn’t get enough of his taste.

Eddie’s chest ached, and his throat was tight.  What Chrissy was doing to him was - overwhelming.  It felt incredible, yeah, and the visual of her on her knees in front of him, mouthing at his prick, would be etched into his memory until the day he died.  But more than that, he found himself swept away by the sheer joy she seemed to take from worshipping his cock from tip to base.  She even delved lower to mouth at his balls.  It made him feel… made him feel…

Wanted.  Not just desired, but wanted.

Not knowing what to do with that feeling, he took her head in his big, long-fingered hands, cradling her jaw with one while the other delved into her coppery tresses.  Slowly, he guided her to his tip.  She took the hint, opening her mouth and sucking gently at his head with a moan.  Fuck, that felt good, the wet, warm suction of her mouth making his eyes roll back into his head.

“Fuck, yes,” he hissed, guiding her movements to a rhythm he liked.  “That’s it, baby.  Take me.  Take all of me.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what he was saying; despite the fact that his pulse was pounding in his ears, he felt like every drop of blood had flooded further south.  But Chrissy made an eager sound in her throat, so he kept talking.

Eventually, she gave a particularly hard suck that sent his hips bucking up into her.  Immediately, Chrissy recoiled, one hand clutching at her throat.  Her lips were swollen from her efforts, her eyes shining with reflexive tears.

“Yellow.  Yellow,” she gasped.  “No gagging, please, Daddy.”

His stomach plummeted in guilt.  Shit.  He hadn’t meant to get so carried away.  He should’ve known that gagging would be a sore spot with her.  Given her history and all.  He petted her head soothingly, running his fingers through her hair until she calmed.  “Alright, sweetness, no gagging.  Thank you for telling me.”  Cupping her jaw, he ran his thumbs gently over her cheekbones.  “Do you need to stop?”

She shook her head.  “No, I want to keep going.”  She licked her lips, her eyes straying back to where his cock was still straining to  get as near to her as it possibly could.  “I liked when you guided my head.  But maybe… I could hold the base?  So I don’t go too deep?”

“Works for me.”  Honestly, he couldn’t even find it in him to be disappointed.  Sure, having a woman - or man - take him down their throat felt amazing.  And it took an incredible amount of trust to let someone do that to you.  But he got most of his enjoyment from pleasuring his partner.  If she wasn’t having a good time, he wasn’t having a good time. 

She wrapped her fingers around the base of him and gave him a nod, signaling that she was ready.  Plunging his fingers back into her hair, he showed her the rhythm he liked.  Soon she was sucking him on her own, the hand on his base stroking him in tandem while her free hand cradled the sensitive skin of his sac.

“That’s it,” he encouraged.  One thumb strayed to her soft, pink lips where they were wrapped around his red, throbbing length. Her eyes looked up and locked with his.  “That’s it.  You like that, don’t you?  A cock in your mouth?” he asked softly.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed around him.  The vibration nearly sent him bucking into her again.  

He was rapidly reaching a boiling point.  Not just because she sucked him like a pro, but because this was Chrissy, Chrissy fucking Cunningham, on her knees nursing his knob like it was the best thing she’d ever had in his mouth.  It wasn’t a dream come true.  Quite the opposite - he’d never even dreamed of something like this, but he knew without a doubt he would be from now on.  

His chest was heaving as he climbed higher and higher toward the peak.  “Not gonna last much longer,” he panted, “if you keep that up.”

Chrissy’s only response was to smile around his shaft, eyes glinting with mischief, and redouble her efforts.  She hollowed her cheeks, and Eddie was undone.  Hands fisting in the sheets, he cursed and snarled as the climax roared through his veins and came in hot spurts in Chrissy’s mouth.

“Fuck.  Oh, fuck.  Oh, fuck, Chrissy,” he panted through it.  Chrissy guided him through it, slowly easing him through the aftershocks as he twitched and shook under her.  

When higher brain function returned to him, he looked down to see Chrissy looking up at him with a smug grin.  She made a show of swallowing and licking her lips.  A single drop of cum managed to escape her mouth, clinging to the corner of her lips.  Eddie swiped it up with his thumb and offered it to her.  Without hesitation, Chrissy sucked his thumb into her mouth, all the way up to the ring at his second knuckle.  His cock, already growing soft, twitched optimistically.  Her tongue lapped at the pearlescent bead before she released his thumb with a pop.  He used that same thumb to smear what little was left of her pink lipstick. 

“Such a good girl,” he murmured.  

In response, she turned her head to press a kiss to his palm.  He swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat.  “Thank you, Daddy,” she said sweetly.

“You’re welcome, baby,” he replied.  

Looking down at himself, he realized that he must look ridiculous: pants and boxers down around his ankles, white button-down shirt rucked up around his stomach.  With a complete lack of dignity, he kicked his way out of his pants, unbuttoned his shirt, and shucked that, too.  Once he was naked (except for his rings and necklaces), he reached down, grabbed Chrissy by the waist, and threw her onto the bed.  She bounced on the mattress with a squeal as he blanketed himself over her.  Her arms came up to wrap around his neck as he looked down at her.

Fuck, he wanted to kiss her.  With her hair spread out on his pillow, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted on every ragged, needy breath, she looked like she was ready to be devoured whole.  He wanted to start with her lips and work his way down.  

But he still wasn’t sure that was what she wanted.  And if he asked, and she said no, it just might destroy him.  At least a little.  So instead, he kissed his way down her neck, lingering at her pulse point when she arched her neck pleading for more.  Her body was hot under his, her fingers twisting in the long, curling strands of his hair as he mapped his way back down to her beautiful tits.  

Taking one nipple between his teeth, he worried it gently, swirling his tongue around it when it hardened into a peak in his mouth.  The cold metal of her piercing contrasted sharply with the warmth of her skin, the metal adding an unusual tang to her sweet flesh.  Releasing her breast from his mouth, he kissed his way over to the other, giving it the same treatment.  

Eventually, her hands went to his shoulders and pushed down, wordlessly telling him exactly where she wanted him.  

“Daddy, please,” she begged.

He loved that - loved that she didn’t hesitate to show him exactly what she needed.  For too long, Chrissy’s wants had gone unseen, unnoticed, unfulfilled by the people who should have wanted to take care of her, to make her smile.  It did Eddie’s heart good to see that she wasn’t that timid girl who couldn’t speak up for herself anymore.  Other doms might’ve punished a sub for trying to control things.  But it wasn’t control, not really.  If he refused her, he knew without a doubt that Chrissy would drop it immediately.

If he had his way, he would never, ever refuse her.  Not a single goddamn thing.

Kissing his way down her body, he paid special attention to her belly.  There was a sweet, soft curve there now - one that hadn’t been there in high school.  And underneath, he could feel the play of her muscles flexing as her hips arched beneath him.  It was a testament to how far she’d come since escaping her mother’s tyranny.  He paid homage to her tummy, peppering it with kisses in appreciation of just how strong his girl was - both inside and out.  

Finally, he came down to the final barrier that separated them: those sexy little panties of hers.  They were soaked, absolutely drenched in her juices.  He could smell the sweet, salty musk of her wafting from between her legs, making his mouth water.  Between his own legs, he felt the first stirrings of renewed lust in his cock.  Indulging his fantasy from earlier, he took the end of one ribbon between his teeth and tugged.  The bow gave way easily.  When the material parted, he latched his mouth onto her hipbone, sucking hard and scraping with his teeth.  Above him, Chrissy whimpered, her hands fisting in his hair.  He pulled back to survey his handiwork.  A bright red mark stood out in stark relief from her milky white skin, gleaming with his saliva.  

By the time he gave her other hip the same treatment, Chrissy was squirming impatiently under his mouth, jerking her hips in a not-so-subtle hint.  

“Need something, princess?” he asked with a filthy chuckle.

“Please, Daddy,” she said again, trying to tug him closer to where she needed him most.

Anything.  Anything she wanted, he would give, if it was in his power.  And if it wasn’t in his power, he’d try his damndest anyway.  “Tell me what you want, little girl, and it’s yours.”

Hesitantly, she spread her legs for him.  His eyes couldn’t seem to make up their mind where to look: at her pleading eyes or her weeping cunt.  

“Eat my pussy?” she asked softly.

She didn’t need to ask him twice.  With a quick tug, he snatched the panties away and tossed them over her shoulder.  Settling between Chrissy’s legs, he took a moment to appreciate the sight of her.  Her lower lips were flushed a deep pink, nearly red with arousal.  A curtain of reddish curls, a few shades darker than the hair on her head, adorned them.  Prying her lips apart, he looked at the glistening cream gathering in her folds.  The sight of it, the scent of her filling the air, had his mouth watering.

“This pretty pussy right here?” he asked, noting when a muscle on her inner thigh twitched.  “I can do that.  Since you’ve been so good for me.”

Without warning, he licked a long, wide stripe from her entrance to her peak, swirling his tongue around her clit.  Her flavor exploded over his tongue as Chrissy’s thighs jackknifed around his head, pressing against his ears and muffling the sound of her surprised yelp.  Oh, that wouldn’t do at all.  He wanted to hear each and every sound he could pull from her with his lips, tongue, and teeth.  Prying her thighs apart, he spread them as far as they would go, blinking in surprise at how fluidly she moved.

That was right - she was a yoga instructor.  She could probably bend into all sorts of interesting shapes and positions.  He filed that thought away for another time.  Right now, he had one purpose and one alone: to drive Chrissy so wild with ecstasy that she couldn’t help coming back to him for more.

“Fuck, Chrissy, you taste so good,” he muttered against her sweet cunt.  “Give me more.  Give me everything.”

“It’s yours,” she gasped.

With his hands on her inner thighs keeping her splayed out for him, he didn’t have a hand to spare to push a finger into her molten depths.  That was okay, though; his tongue was more than up to the task.  Plunging it inside of her, his eyes fluttered and rolled at the exquisite taste of her: salty and sweet and musky all at once.  She tasted like sex incarnate, and he drank eagerly from her before going back to tickle her clit with the tip of his tongue.  Fuck, he couldn’t get enough.  He moaned into her, not even noticing when he started to grind himself against the mattress.

He kept going, licking and suckling and nibbling at her, listening to her cries to find out what moves she liked best.  Her hands were fisted in his hair, threatening to rip it right out of his scalp, and if he weren’t holding her down she’d probably rub herself against him until she drowned him in her juices.  He was almost tempted to let her.  If he had to choose a way to go, drowning while eating out Chrissy Cunningham would be the way to do it.

He was fucking deep into her tight cunt with his tongue when he felt the telltale flutters inside.  He pulled out just far enough to stop touching, his breath ghosting over her throbbing clit.  “Something you want to ask me, sweet thing?”

Only then did she seem to notice the stranglehold she had on his hair.  She loosened her grip, stroking it in apology.  “Please?  Please let me cum?” she pleaded.

“Go ahead.  Cum in my mouth, little girl,” he growled.  Finally relinquishing his hold on her thighs, he plunged two fingers into her tight, hot sheath, curling his fingers while he sealed his lips over her clit.

Her reaction was immediate.  Her entire body tensed, tight as a bowstring as her orgasm tore through her.  Her cunt spasmed around his fingers, gripping them tight as a vice as she shrieked her pleasure.  Her nails scrabbled for purchase against his scalp, making his eyes water and his cock twitch against his bedspread.  A hot gush of her juices flooded his mouth, and he drank them down eagerly.  

Her climax seemed to go on forever.  He worked her through it as she shuddered and moaned against him, licking and sipping softly at her until she pushed him away with a moan.  So - too sensitive to go right back into it, then.  Good to know.  Eddie licked Chrissy’s juices from his lips, wiping with his hand what he couldn’t reach with his tongue.  Then he made his way back up her body the same way he’d gone down: licking, sucking, kissing, and occasionally nipping with his teeth.  By the time he was looming over her again, she was squirming restlessly against him.

He was more than ready to go again.  The feel of Chrissy writhing against him, the sound of her cries, and the taste of her pussy on his tongue had him positively fucking throbbing.  But if she needed time, he could give it.  Hell, if she was done for the night, he’d respect that.  Just because he’d been waiting half a lifetime for a chance to be with Chrissy didn’t mean she felt the same.

Turns out, he shouldn’t have worried.  She opened her legs so he could settle between them, which he happily did.  His dark hair fell in a curtain on either side of them, shutting out all traces of the outside world.  Her hands ran down his back from his shoulder blades downward, before finally she gave his ass a firm squeeze.  Doing so brought the base of his shaft in contact with her wet cunt.  With a moan that he shared, she ground her hips up into his.

With a chuckle, he bumped her nose playfully with his.  “Such a greedy girl,” he said teasingly.  “Does that mean you’re ready for more?”

She nodded, biting her lower lip in that maddening way she always did.  “I want you in me.”

Well, if that was what she wanted, he sure as hell wasn’t gonna argue.  Rolling over to one side, he reached over into his nightstand drawer and dug out a condom.  Tearing the foil package open with his teeth, he pulled out the lubricated latex and rolled it over his shaft.  That done, he pounced back on her.

With a giggle, she wrapped her legs around his waist, leaving no question that this was just where she wanted him to be.  As his head kissed her warm entrance, their eyes locked, their smiles falling away.  Eddie found himself holding his breath.  This moment loomed over him, large and momentous.  He hadn’t felt this overwhelmed when he graduated high school, or even when his band signed their first record deal.  His first real concert came close to this feeling, though.  It felt like his entire life as he knew it hinged on this moment.  Like depending on how things went, the next few minutes could bring a lifetime of until joy or an eternity of fathomless sorrow.

“Eddie,” Chrissy breathed, her wide eyes gray and fathomless as the sea in a storm.  Her lips parted.  Eddie’s eyes flickered down, arrested by the movement.

There it was again: that overwhelming urge to kiss her.  Dare he risk it?  He was playing a dangerous game here, one with rules he didn’t fully understand.  

In the end, cowardice won out.  Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he slowly pushed inside her.  His eyelids fluttered as his hips pressed into her.  Warm.  Tight.  Fuck, she felt…

“Perfect,” he moaned, ducking his head into the crook of her neck so she couldn’t see just how affected he was.  His hips moved with a power of their own, and soon he was chanting in time with the rhythm of his body as he fucked her: “Chrissy, oh god, oh fuck, you’re perfect, so - fucking - perfect… feel so good - “

He was babbling - knew he was babbling - but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop.  Desperately, he ran sucking, biting kisses up the column of her throat in order to keep his mouth too occupied to say something he’d regret.

Distantly, over the sound of the blood roaring in his ears, he could hear Chrissy chanting his name in sweet, mewling cries.

“Eddie, Eddie, oh god, Eddie…!”

The sound of his name in that tone was like a drug to him, like the sweet crack of a whip spurring him to greater heights.  He fucked into her harder, faster, and fuck, he had to be hurting her, the way his thighs were slapping against her ass, still red-hot from the spanking he’d given her.  But then her tiny hands reached down and groped his ass again, her nails biting into his flesh as he pounded into her.

He kissed his way up her throat, to her ear, and over to her cheek.  He wasn’t even aware of what he was doing; all he knew was that he couldn’t get enough of Chrissy.  Her scent, her taste, the feel of her under him and around him, the pleading look in her eyes, the succulence of her lower lip captured between his - 

Fuck.  Fuck.  He was kissing her.  Chrissy Cunningham was in his bed, wrapped around his prick, begging him to fuck her, and he was kissing her.  He’d died.  Sometime today he’d died, and this was heaven.

His blood went absolutely molten when her lips blossomed open under his, her tongue darting into his mouth to twine sensuously with his.  When her tongue retreated, his followed helplessly, eagerly exploring the sweet cavern of her mouth.  But as always, Chrissy was full of surprises.  She sucked hungrily on his tongue, pulling a grunt from his throat as a bolt of pleasure ran straight to his cock.

He wasn’t gonna be able to hold out much longer.

He tore himself away from Chrissy’s lips, feeling absolutely bereft when he did.  “You getting close, baby?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

Overcome by the pleasure, she could only nod.

“That’s my good girl.  Tell me what you need.”  She whined desperately, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck.  “Tell Daddy what you need, little girl.  Tell me now.”

“K… k… ki…” she stammered, her eyes going hazy and unfocused.  “Kiss me again!”

He obeyed.  How could he do anything else?  Kissing Chrissy Cunningham was the fantasy of a lifetime.  If she wanted, he’d kiss her every second of every day.

The moment his lips met hers, he felt the first warning flutters of her climax.  As she came apart around him, her teeth sank painfully into his lower lip.  The raw sensuality of it was enough to send him over the edge.  Her cries mixed with his guttural shout in a wild duet as his mind went blank and she pulled every drop of cum from his balls.

For several long moments, they just held one another, breaths mingling as they panted and gasped.  Pressing his forehead to his, he gazed into her bleary gray eyes.  With her face red and glistening, her lips parted with every breath, and her coppery hair sticking to the sweat on her skin, she looked every bit as fuckstruck as he felt.  He could honestly fall asleep right now, still on top of her - still inside of her - and never, ever want to wake up.  

But he couldn’t.  Not yet.  He may have gotten Chrissy off, but his job wasn’t done.  He still had one more part to play.

Cupping her tiny face between his hands, he rained soothing kisses on her brow, murmuring sweet praise into her skin as it slowly cooled and dried.

“Such a good girl.  So good for me.  So goddamn perfect.”

He kept whispering sweet nothings into her skin: how good she felt, how proud he was of her, how glad he was that he’d found her again.  Maybe he was saying too much.  Maybe not.  But Chrissy seemed so incoherent that he doubted she knew half of what he was saying.  

When their sweat had dried and their breathing slowed, he bumped his nose with hers to get her attention.  “Chrissy,” he murmured, “time to wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered, coming to life like a sleeping princess who’d just been kissed awake by her prince.  Eddie hadn’t exactly watched many Disney movies as a kid - his old man had pawned their TV for drug money, and Wayne was more the action movie type - but he’d saved his fair share of princesses in D&D and video games over the years.  None of them had ever felt half as incredible as seeing the wonderstruck look in Chrissy’s eyes.

“Hey,” he said, mirroring her slow, lazy smile with one of his own.  “How’re you feeling?”

“Mmm… good, good… so good,” she mumbled, clearly still half out of it.  Her eyes still didn’t seem to be focusing quite right.  She stretched languorously, the movement making him slip out of her.  She winced.  “Butt hurts.”

He snickered, rolling off of her to take care of the condom.  “Yeah, I’ll bet it does.  Can you turn over for me?”

With a grumble, she did as he asked, lying with her face buried in his pillow.  Eddie ran a hand appreciatively over the curve of her ass.  Sure enough, the soft globes were still a vivid red.  Heat radiated off of the abused flesh.  Last time, he’d gone easy on her since it was their first time together.  This time, he’d done no such thing.  She’d be feeling this for the next few days.

“I’ve got some lotion in my nightstand,” he let her know.  “I’m just gonna head to the bathroom real quick so I can get you cleaned up.  Then I can put some lotion on you.  Sound good?”

She nodded, not even bothering to lift her face from the pillow.  “Mmhmm.”

With another chuckle, he slipped into his boxers and padded to the en suite bathroom.  Grabbing three washcloths, he ran the tap and soaked all three in tepid water, wringing them out before bringing them back to Chrissy.  She hadn’t moved a muscle since he left her moments before.  He lifted the reddish curtain of her hair and draped a neatly folded washcloth on the back of her neck to help her cool off.  The second cloth he used to bathe the sweat from her skin in long, slow, gentle strokes.  Chrissy murmured contentedly under his ministrations, squealing when he snuck the cloth between her legs to wipe up her juices.  He finished up by playfully wiggling it up the cleft of her ass, spreading her cheeks so he could admire the stripe of white skin between them where his blows hadn’t hit.  Her rear opening twitched under the weight of his regard.  Curious, he ran the cloth over the area again, smirking to himself when her hips twitched.  The final cloth he used to bathe her face, carefully wiping away the remnants of tear tracks and smeared pink lipstick.  

This was the first time he’d seen her without makeup, and he found himself eagerly memorizing the difference in her features.  Her lips were a paler pink than he was used to, and her skin didn’t have its usual smooth luster.  Her eyelashes were pale instead of the usual black, barely visible around her gray eyes.  Her hair still clung to her face, but it was beginning to dry in a gentle frizz instead of its usual perfect waves.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he muttered, grinning when she blushed.

Coaxing her back onto her belly, he snatched up a nearby bottle of unscented lotion and squirted a hefty dollop onto his hand.  When his hand came in contact with her ass, she yelped.

“Cold!”

“Shit.  Sorry about that,” he muttered.  Vigorously rubbing his hands together until the lotion warmed, he dabbed it onto her cheeks and slowly rubbed it in.

Once he finished, Chrissy rolled onto her side.  Careful to keep weight off her ass, she leaned up with a sweet smile and rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek.  She opened her mouth to speak…

…and was interrupted by a loud growl of her stomach.  She flushed a deep, embarrassed red.

“Hungry?” Eddie asked.

She nodded.  “I guess so.  You helped me work up quite an appetite.”

It relieved Eddie to hear it.  He didn’t think Chrissy was lying to him earlier when she asked to delay their dinner.  But he’d seen firsthand the depth of the damage her mother had done to her all those years ago.  If she’d managed to overcome that in the past seven years… well, Eddie Munson wasn’t the type to believe in miracles, but he’d happily consider this an exception.

He crossed the room to his dresser and opened the top drawer.  “Well, I can have dinner ready in about… twenty minutes,” he said as he rummaged around, looking for a comfortable shirt.  Settling for a Pantera shirt he’d gotten at their latest tour, he tossed it to Chrissy, who caught it one-handed.  “C’mon.  You can keep me company.”

Chrissy shrugged into his shirt, which covered her down to mid-thigh - nearly as long as the dress she’d been wearing an hour before.  The sight of her in his shirt, with her hair sex-tousled and her eyes still radiating warm satisfaction, set his heart stuttering to a halt in his chest.  That was a sight he wouldn’t mind waking up to every damn day.

Heart in his throat, he led the way to the door, gesturing for her to lead him out.  To his surprise, she took his hand in hers instead.  They walked out of the room side by side, Eddie staring dumbly at their joined hands where Chrissy wove their fingers together.

Chapter Text

Chrissy was sailing, floating on a sea of contentment, letting the gently lapping waves lull her into a state of perfect languor.

In reality, she was lying prone on Eddie’s black leather couch, face pillowed on his lap and feet kicking slowly in the air.  Their dinner plates were on the floor by Eddie’s feet.  Her ass still burned deliciously from the spanking he’d given her about an hour before.  The two of them were half-naked: him in his boxers, her in just a borrowed T-shirt that he’d pulled up around her waist so he could admire his handiwork.  She didn’t mind one bit; the cool air felt good against her sore, heated flesh.

Chrissy’s mind still swam in the soothing waters of subspace, so much that she hadn’t even thought to be embarrassed when she asked to eat in front of the TV.  She still had a hard time eating in front of people some days, afraid of being judged for eating too much or too little.  With Eddie… well, it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him.  The opposite, really - she was so afraid to mess things up that her old anxieties were getting the better of her.  But before she could even think to be self-conscious, Eddie had told her with a shrug that he usually ate in front of the tube, anyway.

After they’d finished eating, Chrissy belatedly remembered that, while Eddie had fed and comforted her after their scene, she hadn’t done anything for him.  Pillowing her head on his lap, she’d pressed a small kiss to his thigh.  As she ran one hand slowly up and down his leg, she felt his muscles slowly relax under her until he was as limp and boneless as she.

“What can I do for you?” she’d asked quietly.  “What do you need?”

With a contented sigh, he ran his fingers slowly through her hair.  “This,” he said, his tone as soft as she’d ever heard it.  “Just this.”

The movie Eddie had picked was perfect for her state: lighthearted, sexy, and funny.  In her sex-drunk state, she couldn’t really follow along with the intricacies of the plot, but she enjoyed the antics of the disembodied hand, Thing.  And the way Gomez and Morticia doted on one another left her with a goofy smile on her face.

“I used to think that could never happen,” she mumbled against Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie glanced down at her, a soft look in his eyes.  “Hmm?  What, Fester swallowing a knife?”

She shook her head, feeling his coarse leg hair rasp against her cheek.  “No, just… that,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward the screen.  “All of it.  They’re just… they’re all so happy.  Or miserable.  Or something.”

“Happily miserable?” he suggested, smirking.

“Yeah.  Just… the parents are so in love,” she said, watching as Gomez and Morticia eye-fucked one another onscreen.  “Nobody ever screams at each other.  The mom doesn’t try to control Wednesday, or tell her kids that they ruined her body just by being born.  Nobody tries to break through a locked door, or - or make her feel bad just for eating - “

It wasn’t until Eddie hit the stop button on the VCR remote that Chrissy realized she was crying quietly.  Which was ridiculous - getting weepy over a fictional family that tried to murder one another for fun.  

Big, guitar-roughened hands coaxed her up so she was straddling Eddie’s lap.  With her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist, and her face buried in his hair, she held him like she never wanted to let go.  One of his hands held her steady while the other ran long, soothing stripes up and down her spine.  

It felt so good, being in his arms like this.  He was still a bit bony in places, just like he’d been in high school, but he was warm, and he smelled like sweat and cologne and sex, and he murmured soothing nothings into her ear until she calmed.  Gradually, the tension left her body, and she melted into him.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, scrubbing the few tears away with the heel of her palm.  “Sometimes I get sort of emotional after a scene.”

With one hand, he turned her head so he could bump her nose playfully with his.  When he spoke, it was in a loud whisper.  “Lemme let you in on a secret: I do, too.”

With a giggle, she gently slapped his shoulder.  “Very funny!”

“I’m dead serious!” he insisted.  “Look, a lot of work goes into being a Dom, but being a sub is a whole different thing.  It takes guts and a whole hell of a lot of trust to put yourself in that position.  That’s why I don’t do it much.  Being a Dom’s more work, but it’s also… I dunno.  Safer.”  He shrugged.  

Chrissy sat on that information, letting it stew in her mind. A lifetime spent pleasing others - parents, friends, boyfriend, everyone but herself - made it so easy to forget that even being submissive wasn’t all about lying back and taking what was given.  It was physically and emotionally demanding in a way that both opposed and complemented what a good Dom did.  The fact that she got off on a good scene and could set boundaries didn’t take away from the fact that it was still work.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.  They stayed there in one another’s arms - Eddie’s hand still stroking her back while Chrissy pressed soft kisses to the side of his neck.

Eddie was the one to break the silence.  “You know…”  He trailed off, and she felt his throat bob as he swallowed nervously.  “This, uh… doesn’t just have to be about sex.”

Chrissy blinked.  Where the hell had that come from?  Pulling back so she was straddling Eddie’s knees instead of his hips, she cocked her head to one side and looked at him.  He was chewing at a bit of dead skin on his lower lip, and one hand came up to scratch awkwardly at the nape of his neck.  “Okay…?”

“I just mean… we were friends back in Hawkins, y’know?  At least for those last few months before graduation.”

She nodded.  “I spent so many evenings hanging out at your place.  I still can’t believe Jason never caught on.”

He snorted.  “I can.  He didn’t see shit because he didn’t want to see shit.  If he’d ever bothered to actually talk to you, you never would’ve needed to come to me for help.”

Chrissy froze.  It was true: she’d gone to Eddie because nobody seemed to understand how close she was to the end of her rope.  Jason, Mrs. Kelley, the cheer squad - she’d tried talking to all of them.  They’d listened, sort of, but they hadn’t heard.  Nobody had understood how close she was to… to…  

No one until Eddie.  He’d offered her a safe place to be herself, to do and say whatever she wanted without judgment or comment.  That first night at his trailer, he’d seen her at her ugliest: panicky from one hit too many from their shared joint, puke on her breath, snot and tears pouring down her face while she rambled on about calories and sewing machines and sharp, biting fingers.  Fingers that pinched, that prodded, that slapped, that “slipped” with a pin when Chrissy didn’t hold still for her measurements.

He’d listened.  Red-eyed and buzzed as he was, he’d listened to her as the words poured from her mouth, as she purged herself of a lifetime of her mother’s venom, her father’s spinelessness, her boyfriend’s apathy.  When she was done, he’d gotten her a handful of takeout napkins to dry her face, a mug of water to swish the taste of bile from her mouth, and a lukewarm ginger ale to settle her stomach.  She’d passed out on his couch until a few hours later when he gently woke her and drove her home.

She hadn’t known it at the time, but from that day on, she was his.

“I… I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t been there for me back then,” she admitted softly.

Eddie’s face twisted skeptically.  “I don’t buy that.  You’re telling me you would’ve married Carver if it weren’t for weed and movie nights at the Munson trailer?  Nope.  I call bullshit.”

“No, I - “  

She cut herself off with a wince.  The ugly truth was, she wouldn’t be married to Jason today, even without Eddie’s support.  If it weren’t for Eddie, she wouldn’t be here at all.  Meeting him in the woods for drugs had been the last, desperate move of a girl who had run out of places to turn.  If he’d just sold her the goods and left her alone… she didn’t think she would’ve lasted another month in the Cunningham household.

But she couldn’t tell him that.  It wouldn’t be fair, putting that burden on him.  She was better now - stronger, happier, able to reach for what she wanted in life instead of meekly accepting what few scraps the people in her life deigned to offer.  She didn’t want him to think she was putting the weight of her past - of her life - on his shoulders.

“Anyway,” Eddie went on, oblivious to her inner turmoil, “like I said, we were friends back then.  You could always talk to me, and… well, I don’t wanna lose that.  Alright?  Just because you let me do filthy, perverted, freakish things to you,” he said with a smirk and a wiggle of his fingers, “doesn’t mean we can’t still have that.  Right?”

The smile froze on Chrissy’s face.

Oh.

Right.

Friends.

She swallowed hard against the lump forming in her throat, and told herself she was being silly for being hurt.  It wasn’t like they’d said anything about this being a relationship.  Sure, they’d had a coffee date, and now she was at his place for dinner and a movie and sex, but that didn’t mean they were a couple.  Just because she’d spent the past seven years pining for the boy with the big dreams and bigger heart didn’t mean he’d done the same for her.

Friendship was good.  Friendship was… well, not more than she’d hoped for, but more than she should’ve expected.  She could be happy with that.

“Right,” she said, plastering a brave smile on her face.  “Friends.  I’d… I’d really like that, Eddie.”

The smile he gave her looked just as strained as hers felt.  “So… d’you talk to them at all?  Your family,” he clarified at her questioning look. 

She shook her head, her fingers toying with one of the necklaces he still wore.  “No.  Not my parents, at least.  I tried, after I left Hawkins, but… well, you know how my mom can be.”

Eddie’s hands, which had been resting innocuously on her hips, tightened their grip until his fingers were biting into her just a little.  “Yeah, I remember,” he muttered.

“I don’t like who I am when I’m around her,” Chrissy continued.  “Here, I can be who I want to be.  I can be brave.  I can eat greasy carbs without hating myself.  I can walk around in sweats without feeling like a slob.  The second I’m on the phone with her, that all goes out the window, and I’m that same scared little girl again.  I hate it.  I hate being that person.”  Eddie hissed, and she belatedly realized that she’d sunk her nails into his shoulders, leaving red crescent indentations on his skin.  “Sorry.”

He snorted.  “Don’t worry about it, princess.  I just did worse to you like two hours ago,” he said.  His fingers pinched playfully at her sore bottom, making her squeal.  “What about your dad?  And your brother?”

“My dad… no,” she admitted with a wrinkle of her nose.  “I tried, but mom would always take the phone from him to try and talk sense to me.”  As much as it broke her heart to admit it, her father was a lost cause.  She knew firsthand how impossible it was to say no to Laura Cunningham.  That was why she’d had to leave Hawkins and put half a world between herself and her mother.  “I talk to Jacob, sometimes, when he’s away at college.  Mom doesn’t know.”  Not wanting to dwell on the mess that was her family - not when she was still so emotionally fragile - she changed the subject.  “How about your uncle?  Do you guys still talk?”

Eddie nodded with a goofy, lopsided grin.  “Yup.  We meet every Sunday for brunch.”

“How’s that work?” Chrissy asked, confused.  Last she heard, Wayne Munson still worked for her dad’s plant in Hawkins.

“Well, we don’t meet up meet up,” he corrected.  “We call.  I roll my ass out of bed at around noon, which is about 3PM in Hawkins.  Wayne still works nights, so that’s around when he wakes up anyway.  We make coffee, have breakfast, catch up, shoot the shit.”

“That’s… that’s really great, Eddie,” she said, meaning every word.  Eddie had worked hard to get where he was; he deserved every last scrap of happiness life had to offer.  And if she felt a small spark of envy that he had a family that cared enough to have a long-distance meal with him every week, it was too insignificant to bother her.

Much.

“Yeah.  Yeah, it is.”  Incongruously, he started to jiggle one of his legs underneath her, and she could feel his fingers fidgeting with the hem of her borrowed shirt.  “Tomorrow’s Sunday, you know.”

She gave him an uncertain, confused smile.  “Yeah, Sunday usually comes after Saturday,” she agreed.

A dark flush spread across his cheeks and nose.  “Anyway, I was thinking - would you - “  His jaw snapped shut.  He paused, seeming to consider something, then tried again.  “I haven’t told him about - you know.”  He gestured between the two of them.  “I’m… kiiind of crap with secrets, especially around Wayne, but if you want to keep this whole thing on the down-low, just say the word.”

“Oh.”  Honestly, she hadn’t even considered the thought of Eddie telling his uncle.  She’d only met Wayne a brief handful of times - usually when she came over, he was heading to the plant for a shift - but he’d always been nothing but kind and welcoming to his home.  When he’d found out that root beer was her favorite soda, he made a point of stocking diet and regular, even though he didn’t drink soda and Eddie hated diet.  Small touches like that made the Munson trailer feel like more of a home in three months than her actual house had for eighteen years.  “I don’t mind if you tell him,” she decided.  “I mean, I’d prefer if you didn’t tell him specifics, obviously, but it’s not like he’s gonna tell my parents, right?”

Even as she said the words, Chrissy knew she had nothing to worry about.  Wayne was discreet; he kept his nose in his own business, and expected everyone around him to do the same.  If he was the type to go to her parents, he could have done so a dozen times when she smoked weed and drank the occasional beer with Eddie.  If he didn’t do that when she was eighteen, he wouldn’t say anything to them now when she was twenty-six.

Still, she had to be cautious.  If her mother found out that she was seeing Eddie, it wouldn’t take long to figure out that Chrissy was living in LA.  Sure, Los Angeles was a big place, but the less Laura Cunningham knew about her daughter’s whereabouts, the better.

Eddie’s lips quirked into a half-smile.  “Not to worry.  Your dirty little secret won’t hit the Hawkins rumor mill.”  Picking up the VCR remote, he jerked his chin toward the TV.  “We should probably finish up that movie.”

It took some awkward shifting and shuffling, but soon Chrissy was back on her stomach, head pillowed on Eddie’s thigh just like before.  Nothing at all had changed.  They picked the movie up right where they left off.  They rested in the same positions, Chrissy’s ass still burned from her spanking, and Eddie still felt warm and comforting and safe.

Still, it felt like a gulf had opened up quietly between the two of them.  Maybe she’d ruined things by crying about her family.  Maybe he’d assumed she was over it by now.  Maybe she’d said something wrong.

Or maybe it was just her disappointment getting to her.  Which wasn’t fair; Eddie had never said a thing about dating.  If she was feeling rejected, it was because she’d led herself on.  He was blameless in that.

Resolving to enjoy the movie as best she could, she nuzzled her head into his thigh, resting one hand on her knee.  After a moment, Eddie’s fingers threaded through her hair, scritching pleasantly at her scalp.

Chrissy sighed, and tried to tell herself it wasn’t at all wistful.  She was in Eddie’s house, cuddled up with him on his couch, watching a movie after the most mindblowing sex of her life.  So what if he didn’t want anything serious?  She’d never been looking for anything serious, either.  She could be happy with this.

She could.

It was eleven a.m. the next Saturday when she got the call.

She was sitting on her fold-out bed, enjoying a morning cup of tea.  She’d already done her morning yoga routine and had a light breakfast.  She’d watered her chia pet, and was mentally riffling through her clothes to decide on an outfit to wear on her date that wasn’t really a date with Eddie.

She picked up the receiver and cradled it between her hear and shoulder.  “Hello?”

“Hey, Chris.”

“Eddie!”  Was it pathetic to be so excited to hear from him?  It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard from him.  They’d talked on the phone twice since their date-not-date last weekend.  But the sound of his voice never failed to set her cheeks warming and her heart soaring.

“Hey.  I’ve, uh, got some bad news,” he said.  She heard him blow out an exasperated breath.  “Recording was supposed to wrap yesterday, but apparently some of the tracks came out fucked up.  We’re already a week and a half behind as it is, so the label wants this shit done yesterday.  So… yeah.  They need me in the studio today.  Shouldn’t take more than a few hours - I hope, anyway - but… yeah.”

“Oh.”  Chrissy struggled to keep the disappointment out of her voice.  Okay.  So he was canceling on her at the last minute.  That was… fine.  It was fine, really.  He’d made it clear a week ago that they weren’t dating.  They were friends.  And sure, ditching a friend last-minute was a crummy move, but what could she expect?  He was a rock star.  This was his lifelong dream and his livelihood all rolled into one.  She couldn’t compete with that.  Even if she could, she wouldn’t want to.  She plastered a fake smile on her face, hoping it would mask the upset in her voice.  “That’s fine!  We could always postpone ‘til next weekend.”

He hissed a breath between his teeth.  “Yyyeah, about that,” he said, making her heart plummet into her stomach.  “Call me a greedy asshole, but I’m not really the postponing type.  Been looking forward to seeing you all week, princess.  I’m not gonna wait another.”

Chrissy’s face went hot, and butterflies danced in her stomach.  Someone really needed to tell Eddie that he couldn’t just say things like that to a girl without giving her the wrong idea.  Especially a girl he was sleeping with. A girl he called princess and baby and beautiful and perfect, and cuddled on the couch and watched movies with, and kissed like he was a man dying of thirst and she was a cool oasis.  A girl he said he wanted to be friends with.

“So… what did you have in mind?” she asked breathily.

“Well, y’know, I do owe you a show,” he said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice.  “I mean, you never came to see us at the Hideout way back when.  Granted, watching us goof off in the studio isn’t as cool as seeing us onstage, but we’ve gotten a hell of a lot better since high school, so I figure it all evens out.”  A pause.  Then, “So what do you say, princess?  Waste a few hours watching me and the band, then we could, I dunno, hang out?  Your place, my place, wherever.  I’m all yours.”

“All mine, huh?  I’ll hold you to that.”  Eddie made a sound in his throat - something between a grunt and a whine - that Chrissy knew she’d be playing back in her head later.  “But yeah - I’d love to see you and your band play!”

“Awesome!  So can I give you a ride?”

“Sure!” she agreed readily.  Then, with a hint of mischief: “You can drive me to the studio, too.”

That surprised a laugh out of him.  “Oh man, I’m gonna regret bringing you to the studio with me, huh?”

Chrissy grinned, sinking her teeth into her lower lip.  “I dunno.  Are you?”

There was another question lurking beneath the one she asked.  All her life, Chrissy had been watched.  She was used to the heavy weight of her mother’s critical eye pressing down on her.  Ever since she was a kid, she’d been paraded around at dance recitals, child beauty pageants, basketball games…  Her body had been a glittering ornament made to adorn the dreams of others.  It wasn’t until she left home that she’d started to reclaim her body as her own.

Learning to love her body was an uphill battle - one she still lost some days.  But one thing she’d learned over the years was that she loved to be watched when she had a say in the matter.  She liked knowing that she turned people on.  That her body was capable of both giving and receiving pleasure.  

So… yeah.  One might say she was a bit of an exhibitionist.  Eddie had seen that for himself the night of the party.  If it was okay with him - and if his bandmates didn’t mind - she wouldn’t mind experimenting with it some more.

Was she looking to get fucked in front of his bandmates?  No.  It was one thing to do things like that at a kink party, surrounded by strangers she might never see again.  Eddie’s friends were a different story.

But… that didn’t mean she didn’t want to toy with the risk of getting caught.  And that was the unspoken question lurking under the one she’d asked: could they play, or should she behave herself?

On the other end of the line, Eddie’s voice took that low, quiet tone she was starting to think of as his Dom Voice.  “You remember what I told you last weekend?” he asked quietly.  “About good girls and bad girls?”

Chrissy’s thighs rubbed together in a bid to dispel the ache already growing between them.  “Yes, Daddy,” she said breathlessly.

“Prove it.  What did I say?”

“You said - “ She swallowed against the unsteadiness in her voice.  “You said good girls get what they ask for, and bad girls take what their Daddy gives them.”

“Mmhmm.  So you tell me: am I gonna regret bringing you, princess?”

She liked that he did that - liked that Eddie let her guide them in the direction she wanted to go before he took control out of her hands.  All her life, she’d had her hands slapped away any time she wanted to grab the reins of her life.  By giving her a say in how their scene would go, he made her feel safe enough to give herself over to him without worry.  

She had nothing to fear; in his hands, she knew she was safe.

She gave an impish little giggle.  “Maaaaybe,” she said, drawing the word out playfully.

He chuckled.  “Maybe, huh?  Alright then, princess.  Let’s see how well you behave.  Pick you up in an hour?”

“I’ll be ready.”

With no time left to waste, Chrissy hopped into the shower.  After a quick scrub, shampoo, and shave, she hurried to her dresser and quickly put together an outfit.  The tan tank top with the brown and white butterfly on the front had thin halter straps that tied at the back of her neck.  There was a large, triangular cutout at the bottom hem that showed a patch of her pale stomach.  Under that, she wore a pleated denim skirt that reached mid-thigh, a pair of white knit socks that covered a bit past her knees, and a pair of black platform lace-up boots.  She pulled her still-damp hair into two buns at the top of her head, leaving strands of hair loose at the front to frame either side of her face.  A little mascara, some lip gloss, and a pair of pink sunglasses with pink lenses finished the look.

Once she was ready to go, she grabbed her Polaroid camera off a shelf.  Then she left her apartment, locking the door securely behind her.  A quick run down the stairs, a walk across the lobby, and she was outside almost ten minutes early.

To her surprise, Eddie was already there waiting for her, leaning against the passenger door of his car.  His ripped jeans and cutoff Pantera tank top weren’t as dressy as what he’d worn on their date - not a date, she reminded herself - but the look was so Eddie that it took her breath away nonetheless.  Today, he had his hair pulled back in a low ponytail - probably to keep it out of his face while he played.  His rings were there, as always, plus a leather watch on one wrist and a silver chain on the other.

Her heart sped up in her chest.  He looked handsome last week in his button-down shirt, but this was the Eddie she knew and - and remembered.  Not the successful rock star, but the boy who saw a lonely, sad girl and extended her a caring hand.

Raising the camera to her face, she snapped a photo.

A dark pair of sunglasses protected his eyes from the sun’s glare, but didn’t hide the way they flicked up and down to check her out.  His smug, boyish grin sent a jolt through her stomach.

“Oh yeah,” he said, “I’m definitely gonna regret bringing you along.”  The eagerness in his voice and the curl of his lips told her that he’d relish every minute.  “I didn’t realize this was a photo op for you.”

“This is the closest I’ve ever been to a rock show,” she said, shaking the photo her camera spit out.  “I want a memento or two.”

“Fair enough.”  He opened the passenger door for her, as he always did, before circling around to the other side.  

“So… you said you have to re-record some songs?” Chrissy prompted once they were on the road.

Eddie nodded, sparing her a quick glance.  “Yep.  Just the last two songs on the album.  We’ve got the kinks worked out of the music itself.  Now we just have to redo it without Dick fucking up the sound levels.”

“Dick?”

“Our sound guy.  Engineer.  Whatever,” Eddie elaborated.  “They say he’s the best.  Probably is, when he’s not coked out of his mind.”

“Oh.”  Chrissy hadn’t really given much thought to the drugs part of the whole “sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll” thing.  She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.  “Do, um.  Do you do that?”

“What, coke?  Nah,” he replied.  “Grew up in the trailer park, remember?  I’ve seen firsthand what that shit does.  No, my only vices are weed and beer.  Cigarettes when I’m stressed.  Oh, and pretty, flexible redheads with the most incredible legs I’ve ever seen,” he added, dragging a palm up her inner thigh.

Chrissy’s breath came faster as his hand slowly, slowly inched up her skirt.  A few inches more, and he’d feel exactly what she wasn’t wearing underneath.  

But no - he stopped too soon.  The rough calluses on his fingertips dragged along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, sending a shiver up her spine.  Her skin broke out in goosebumps even in spite of the hot California sun.  She opened her legs further in an obvious hint.  But Eddie just chuckled, perfectly content to leave his hand exactly where it was.

And apparently, he had no plans on moving it; for the entire drive he steered with his left hand and kept his right on her inner thigh.  His hand might be still, but his fingers weren’t; they tapped random rhythms to songs she didn’t know, or drew patterns on her skin.  Chrissy found herself ignoring the city passing outside the car windows in favor of the far more interesting things he was doing.

When they got to the studio, Chrissy was surprised to see the rest of the band waiting outside.  So, apparently, was Eddie.

“What’s with the welcoming committee?  Figured you guys would already be warming up by now.”

“Oh, we’re warm, alright,” a broad man with short, curly hair muttered darkly.  “The AC blew out.  Abigail’s trying to get someone here to fix it, but…”  He trailed off with a shrug.  

“Son of a bitch.”  Eddie glanced apologetically at Chrissy.  “Look, I know I said you could hang out, but you’re about to be stuck in a building with a bunch of sweaty dudes and no air conditioning.  If you wanna take a rain check, just say the word.”

Chrissy’s entire being rebelled against the idea.  Seeing Eddie play, even in the studio, felt like a second chance - an opportunity to make up for that show at the Hideout she’d never gathered up the courage to show up for.  She’d been too timid, too scared of her mother and her boyfriend and her own shadow to reach out and take what she wanted.  Now… now she finally had that chance.

But she didn’t say that.  Instead, she scoffed and bumped him playfully with one shoulder.  “Eddie, I spent years studying yoga at the ashrams in Rishikesh.  India,” she clarified at his confused frown.  “They didn’t have air conditioning there, either.  I can handle a little sweat.”  She shot him a sly glance out of the corner of her eye.  “I can handle anything you throw at me.”

“Anything, huh?”  He leered at her, opened his mouth to say something - no doubt something filthy - but glanced at his bandmates and seemed to think better of it.  Clearing his throat, he said, “Uh, Chrissy, these are the guys - Gareth, Jeff, and Marshall.”  Each of the band members gave her a little wave when they were introduced, letting her know which was which.  

Chrissy vaguely remembered the other three guys from high school - remembered them snickering along with his antics in the cafeteria, roughhousing with him in the hallways, piling out of the back of his van in a burst of smoke after free period.  She’d never had the courage to talk to Eddie in front of them back then.  She knew for a fact that if Eddie had come up to her in the halls of Hawkins High, her friends would ridicule him.  She’d been terrified that his friends might do the same to her.

She gave the trio a finger-wiggling wave, hiding any residual shyness behind a warm smile.  “Hi, guys.  Nice to meet you.  I’m Chrissy.”

“Oh, we know,” Jeff said with a smirk.  “Trust me, we’ve known aaaall about you since mid - ow!  What the fuck, man, watch the rings!” he added when Eddie smacked him on the arm with the back of his hand.

“Shut up, asshole,” he said through gritted teeth.  

Chrissy glanced curiously among the four men.  Jeff was rubbing his arm, doing his best to glare at Eddie even while a smirk pulled at his lips.  Marshall was laughing openly, and Gareth made a whole production of fiddling with his drumsticks.  

And Eddie… Eddie was beet red.

Obviously, there was a story there.  One that Eddie didn’t want told, that… maybe involved her?  She was dying to find out.  

But as she watched Eddie duck his head behind his hair, she thought better of it.  If there was something she wanted to know, she’d hear it from him.  The last thing she wanted was to embarrass him in front of his friends.

So instead, she covered for him.  “Well, don’t let me hold you up.  I know you guys have a few hours of work to do, and then Eddie and I have plans.”  

“Plans” was a term she used loosely.  They’d said they’d get together, but nothing was set in stone: no date, no dinner reservations, nothing. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Marshall chuckled.  “Once we’re done with him, he’s all yours.”

“Yeah, he is.”  Chrissy couldn’t resist.  Reaching down behind her, she gave Eddie’s ass a firm pinch.  At the same time, her other hand raised up the camera and took a picture just as Eddie gave a surprised yelp.

Eddie recovered quickly with a clear of his throat.  “Why don’t you guys go inside?  I’ll meet you in there.  Just wanted to talk to Chrissy real quick.”  One by one, the other band members slouched their way into the studio.  The second they were gone, Eddie rounded on her, pressing her against the nearest wall.  The sun-baked bricks were hot and rough at her back.  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, little girl?”  The rough growl of his voice was softened somewhat by the playful glint in his dark eyes.

She gave her best wide-eyed, innocent stare.  “Just having some fun, Daddy,” she said quietly.

One big hand came up to grip her cheeks, his rings cool against her jaw.  “Have your fun while you can.  Just remember: Good girls get what they want.  Brats get punished.”

Without further ado, he released her and walked toward the building.  Chrissy followed with a giggle and a spring to her step.

The heat hit Chrissy in a wave when they entered the building.  The guys weren’t kidding; the studio wasn’t only hot, it was muggy.  She followed Eddie down a winding hallway until they reached the… recording room?  Or whatever it was called.

Actually, it was two rooms.  The room they entered was small, with brown carpets and white walls.  There was a card table with snacks and drinks on one wall, and a leather sofa on the other end.  At the far end of the room was the biggest soundboard Chrissy had ever seen - not that she’d seen many - covered with knobs, dials, and switches.  A middle-aged man with shoulder-length platinum blonde hair and coke-bottle glasses sat there, fiddling with the settings.  He must be the sound engineer, Dick, Chrissy thought.  On the wall before him was a large, plexiglass window showing the adjoining room where the band’s instruments and equipment were set up.

“’Bout time you guys showed up,” the man said.  “It’s hot as Satan’s asshole in here.  Let’s get this shit over with so I can go home.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”  Eddie waved a hand over to the couch.  “Chrissy, you can hang out on the couch.  If you get hungry or thirsty, help yourself to whatever’s on the table.”  

He gave her a lingering look, which she answered with a nod.  Yes, if she got hungry, she’d eat.  Mindful of the shortness of her skirt, she perched on the edge of the couch, knees pressed primly together.

The boys piled into the other room and immediately began tuning their instruments.  It didn’t take long.  Chrissy assumed it was because they’d been recording only yesterday.  Soon, the four of them stood ready: Gareth on drums, Marshall on bass guitar, Jeff on rhythm guitar and vocals, and Eddie… Eddie on lead guitar.

Jeff stepped up to the microphone.  His voice came in through a speaker to Dick’s right.  “Alright, we’ve got three songs to cover.  We’ll start with Hivemind Brainrot.  Then we’ll do Suffering’s End, and wrap up with Cracking the Cartilage.”

Dick pressed an intercom button.  “Need to redo the last thirty seconds of My Grave Is Dug (But I Can’t Stand Seven Feet Tall),” he informed them.  

Jeff sighed.  “Alright, let’s start there.  Right after Eddie wraps his solo.  Gareth, count us off.”  Together, the band launched into a song.  

It was… loud.  Very loud.  Chrissy had expected as much.  She didn’t really listen to metal - it was far too hard for her taste - but she remembered Corroded Coffin being loud back at her sixth grade talent show.

Raising her camera to her face, Chrissy snapped a shot.  The camera spit out a photo, which she shook until the image appeared.  It was a good photo, catching the four men in motion.  She’d have to see about getting copies made for the rest of them.

They were better now than they were back then.  Which made sense.  It had been, what - twelve, thirteen years since the talent show?  Of course they were better.  The four musicians were in perfect rhythm with one another.  It was the kind of synergy that came from years of playing together, of learning each other inside and out.  Marshall’s fingers curled around the bass like they belonged there.  Gareth’s arms flew left and right on his drum kit, and his feet did something that made a deep, rapid, mile-a-minute beat that reverberated in Chrissy’s chest.  Jeff kept perfect rhythm on his guitar, and his voice was a shockingly rich baritone that transitioned seamlessly from screaming to belting out pure, heartfelt notes.

But Chrissy wasn’t ashamed to say that Eddie stole the show.  Ever the performer, even in the studio, he moved restlessly around the room, always careful not to let the cord of his guitar get snared on anything.  His left hand glided up and down the neck of his guitar like he’d been born with it in his hands, his fingers nimbly sliding and pressing the right frets as if by instinct.  

She remembered how those fingers felt on her, how they’d known just how to pluck and pinch and caress.  Soon, they’d finish up their work here, and she’d have him all to herself.

Chrissy kept watching as they finished their first song and launched into the next.  It was obvious that Eddie was in his element here.  When they were in school, all of that raw, frenetic energy had needed an outlet, and it would burst free in the form of erratic pacing, impassioned speeches, and horsing around in the hallways.  But this - this was what all of that passion, that drive, that sheer exuberance was meant for.  He poured his soul into his music in the same way he’d poured his passion into her.

God, she’d never been so turned on in her life.  

And the heat of the studio wasn’t helping one bit.  His skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat that made his tank top stick to him like a second skin.  The muscles in his arms flexed with every move he made.  His hair, always wild and untamable, seemed to take on a life of its own, the dark curls frizzing in the confines of the low ponytail he’d tied them in.  His face was screwed up in concentration: brows lowered, tongue poking out to moisten his lower lip.

She snapped another photo just of Eddie pouring himself into his music.  This one, she wouldn’t share.  She wanted a keepsake to remember today by.

He must have noticed the camera flash, because he looked up, his deep brown eyes locking with hers, and he winked.  His gaze drifted down the length of her body, lower, lower, and the way his tongue darted out to moisten his upper lip was positively obscene.  Her thighs clenched, rubbing together to ease some of the sweet ache blossoming there.  Missing nothing, Eddie gave one last teasing flick of his tongue that had Chrissy’s face going hot while her stomach gave a thrilled swoop.

It was just like Eddie to be performing even while he was performing.  The sudden, unwelcome thought popped into her head: how many other girls had he done this for?  How many times has he brought them to the recording studio, or backstage, or his home - his bed -

Jealousy flared, hot and ugly and irrational, in her stomach.  Which wasn’t fair.  It wasn’t fair to be jealous of other girls he’d been with while she was half a world away.  When she hadn’t had the courage to make her move in the first place.

She wouldn’t hold that against him, just like she hoped that he wouldn’t hold her past lovers against her.  But she could still show him exactly what she could give him now that he had her.  Looking up at him through her lashes and giving what she hoped was a sexy smile, she slowly parted her legs so he could see just what she wasn’t wearing under her little denim skirt.

Eddie’s jaw dropped, and he missed his next note.  She snapped another photo.  But he recovered quickly, picking up where he left off while the rest of the band never even missed a note.  His scowl didn’t quite manage to conceal the eager, wolfish glint in his eyes.

Chrissy kept her legs like that for another ten seconds, wondering if he could see from the other room just how wet she was.  He must; she could feel it seeping out of her, the sweet ache and the tingling of her skin driving her to distraction.  Once she was sure that he’d gotten a good look, she crossed her legs.

Once the band wrapped up the song, Dick spoke to them through the intercom.  “Alright, guys, one more time from the top.  I can probably scrub over Munson’s fuck-up, but I wanna make sure.”

Chrissy hunched her shoulders guiltily.  She hadn’t meant to make Eddie mess up the note.  She’d just wanted to have a bit of fun while she waited.  Resolving to behave herself - at least for now - she folded her hands primly in her lap.

The band launched into the song again - this time without a hitch.  About three quarters of the way through, a woman in a navy blue pantsuit entered the recording room.  Her curly bronze hair was pulled into a low bun at her nape.  She held a box of popsicles under one arm.

“Hey, Abigail.  Get the AC fixed yet?” Dick asked without so much as turning.

“Repair guy is almost done,” she replied.  Her ice-blue eyes, which stood out starkly in her dark face, fell on Chrissy.  She extended the hand not holding the popsicles.  “Hi - I’m Abigail.  I’m the producer for the band.  And you are…?”

Chrissy took the woman’s hand and shook it, matching her form grip.  “Oh, I’m Chrissy.  Eddie’s, um, friend.”

Abigail quirked a well-manicured eyebrow.  “Friend, huh?  Well, Chrissy, it’s hot as hell in here.  Want a popsicle?”

Chrissy eyed the colorful box dubiously.  Popsicles had been a forbidden food in the Cunningham household - for her, at least.  In the muggy summer months, while her brother Jacob got to slurp down the sugary treats, Chrissy was given plain ice on a stick to stay cool.  One time, Jake had offered her a bite of his.  Laura had seen, and that evening she’d been sent to bed without dinner, hips and thighs stinging from her mother’s pinching.  The next morning, she’d had a bruise on her breastbone from Laura’s clawed, jabbing finger.

“I’d love a popsicle,” she said firmly, and even though her mother wasn’t there to hear it, it still felt like a triumph.  “Red, please.”

Soon she had her treat unwrapped and was sucking on it happily.  The cold, strawberry-flavored confection was a wonderful relief in the hot confines of the recording studio.  What made it even better was when Eddie caught sight of her.  His eyes went scorching hot as he watched her lip, nip, and suck.  

Even with that distraction, he managed not to miss a single note.

When the last notes faded, Abigail called the band back into the room.  The four of them piled in and immediately headed for the refreshment table.  Everyone except Eddie, who plopped down next to Chrissy on the couch and yanked her unceremoniously into his lap.  She didn’t wonder why for long; she could feel him, half-hard and pressing into her ass.

Turning the camera on herself and Eddie, she took what she hoped was a photo of the two of them.  She didn’t get a chance to look at it before the producer got their attention. 

“Looking good, guys,” Abigail told them.  “Keep it up and we can have the record to the label next week.”

While the producer went on about deadlines, interviews, and an eventual tour, Eddie murmured in her ear.  “Hey.  Gimme a taste.”  Obediently, she held out her popsicle stick to his mouth.  But instead, he took it from her hand and held it to her own lips.  “I said I want a taste, not a bite.”

With a confused frown, she bit the last of the popsicle off the stick.  Before she could question him, his lips were on hers, his tongue probing her mouth.  She let him in eagerly.  The heat of his tongue and the cool sweetness of the ice contrasted sharply in her mouth, making her head spin.  

Oh god, he was kissing her.  He was kissing her in front of all his friends, and his hand was cupping her face so tenderly, and she’d really have to ponder what this all meant when she wasn’t so turned on she might just die - 

“Jesus Christ, you two, get a room!” Gareth yelled.

When they pulled apart, Chrissy’s lips were sweet and sticky from the juice.  Eddie’s own lips were stained red.  He glanced over at Gareth.  “Good idea.  Be back in fifteen.”

“I didn’t mean literally - “

“Too late.  This is happening.”  Without further ado, he got up and dragged Chrissy by the hand out of the room.

“Eddie!” she squealed, struggling to keep up with his long-legged stride as he led her to a door labeled “Supply Closet.”  He pulled her inside, shutting the door behind them.  “They’re all gonna know what we’re doing!”

He rounded on her in an instant, pressing her back to the nearest wall with a snarl.  With his greater height, he loomed over her so that she had to crane her neck to look into his eyes.  

“Color?” he asked softly, his eyes soft.

“Green,” she whispered with a smile.

He gave her a quick peck on the lips.  Then, his eyes hardened.  “That’s right.  They all know.  And you like that, don’t you?” he growled in her ear, making a shiver trip down her spine.  She shook her head.  He leaned in to nip her earlobe hard in punishment.  “Don’t lie to me, pretty whore.  I saw you out there, acting like the sweet little slut you are.  Showing off that pretty little pussy so any of them could’ve seen.”  His grip on her cheeks tightened as he forced her to look him in the eyes.  “What would you have done if they saw you?  Huh?  If they saw you spread your legs for me?”  

His other hand crept under her skirt, inching his way up her inner thigh until she thought she just might combust if he didn’t touch her already.  “I - I don’t - “  Her words cut off with a throaty groan.  His fingers glided along her nether lips, their progress slicked by the wetness that had been gathering there since the moment she got into his car.

“What would you have done if they saw how hot and wet you are for me?” he continued, brushing his fingers over her maddeningly lightly.  Her hips jerked, desperately seeking more friction.  He withheld it with a filthy chuckle.  “Would you have fucked them?  Hmm?  Is that why you came here?  One member of the band isn’t good enough for you, is it?  You wanna get your holes filled by all of us.”

She shook her head frantically.  “No, Eddie, I swear - “

The hand between her legs drew back and gave her pussy a sharp spank, making her cry out.  “What did you call me?” he bit out.

“Daddy,” she corrected quickly, breathlessly.  All her thoughts, her jealousy, her embarrassment - all were gone.  In its place was the simple, all-consuming desire to do whatever Eddie wanted.  To please him, to serve him, to make him so happy that he never needed anyone else.  And never questioned that she wanted only him.  “Daddy, you’re the only one I want.  I swear.”  Her hands came up to grip the straps of his tank top.  “Please, Daddy, let me prove it.”

His tongue poked out against his cheek in thought.  “You’ve been being a naughty girl all day,” he observed coolly, as if he were talking about the weather.  “Teasing me.  Groping me in front of the guys.  Showing off what’s mine.”  Slowly, his rough fingertips dragged over her cunt, tracing patterns at random over her flesh.  “You remember what I told you: bad girls take what their Daddy gives them.  And right now, I’m not feeling very giving.”

Tears sprang to her eyes.  Deep inside, she knew that this was a game they were playing.  That Eddie had enjoyed her teasing as much as she did - he even instigated it at one point.  If she called red, or even yellow, this game would come to an end, and he’d give her every reassurance she needed.

She trusted him.  And that trust allowed her to let this part of herself out.  The part of her that needed to please, needed to prove that she deserved kindness and affection before she could take it.  The part that had been taught that love had a price that had to be paid before it could be accepted.  Some people would see this side of her - the side that had been nurtured at her mother’s knee - and exploit it.  But not Eddie.  Never Eddie.  There was no place in the world safer than with him.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whined, curling into him as much as she could.  “Please, I want to be your good girl again.  Let me be your good girl.”

Big, calloused fingers reached behind her neck and undid the tie of her halter top.  He dragged his hand down her front, pulling on her shirt until it slipped down to reveal her breasts.  Eddie’s eyes went nearly black as he looked at them.  Under the heat of his gaze, her nipples hardened into tender, aching points that begged for his touch.

Eddie reached for her hand, for the camera she hadn’t even realized she was still holding.  She released it without comment, her stomach fluttering with excitement as he took a picture of her breasts.

“I’m gonna keep this,” he threatened, shaking the photo spit out by the camera and putting it on a shelf.  “I don’t think I can survive another week without seeing these sweet tits.  Maybe this’ll last me.”  He reached up to give her breast a sharp spank.  “I warned you,” he continued, switching to slap her other breast.  The pain sang through her, shooting from her stinging skin to her tender nipples, and all the way down to her neglected clit.  She bit her lower lip to muffle her cries.  “I told you on the phone that bad girls have to take what I give them.”  He continued to spank them, alternating between them as he spoke until her chest glowed a pretty shade of pink.  “If you can do that - if you can take only what I give, and no more - then you’ll be my good girl again.  And if you can sit quietly for the rest of our session like the good girl I know you can be, I’ll take you home and reward you.”

She was nodding along eagerly before he even finished talking.  “Yes, yes yes yes, I’ll be good.  I’ll be so good.  I promise, Daddy.  Let me show you.”

Eddie’s eyes softened, and he reached up to cup her cheek.  His thumb ran along her lower lip, and she nearly gave into the urge to open her mouth and suck it inside.  But no - no.  “Take only what I give, and no more.”  That’s what he said, and that was exactly what she’d do.  So she stood quietly, compliantly, while he smeared her lip gloss around her mouth.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, before his face hardened again.  Suddenly, she was whirled around, her face pressed to the wall while the hard planes of Eddie’s body pressed to her back.  She could feel the rigid line of him pressed to the cleft of her ass, and it took every bit of self control she had not to grind back against him.  “Hands behind your back.  I can’t trust you to keep those sneaky little hands to yourself, can I?”

She obeyed immediately, watching over her shoulder as Eddie whipped a black bandana from his pocket and used it to bind her wrists together.  He inserted two fingers between the cloth and her wrists, wiggling them to make sure it wasn’t tied too tight.  

“Good?” He asked.

She tugged experimentally at her bonds, wiggled her fingers to make sure they weren’t losing feeling.  The bandana was tight enough that she couldn’t slip out, but had enough give that she wouldn’t lose circulation.  “Good.  It’s good.  Thank you, Daddy.”

For a split second, she thought she felt his lips at her throat.  Then his teeth sank into her skin, pulling a heartfelt whine from her.  His arms wrapped around her middle, his fingers pulling and plucking at her nipples, playing with the silver piercings she wore.

All of a sudden he was gone, and she was crying out at the loss of him against her.  Then he was turning her back around, pushing down on her shoulders.

“On your knees,” he muttered.  “Time for you to show me what a good girl you can be.”

Head fuzzy, she lowered herself down to the floor, smiling up at him when he offered her a hand to help her balance.  On her knees, she was at just the right height to see him straining against his fly.  He popped the button, lowered the zipper, and tugged his jeans and boxers down just low enough to take himself out.

Chrissy’s mouth watered at the sight of him, thick and red and leaking precum.  She’d loved sucking him last weekend - loved his taste, the weight of him on her tongue, the sounds she pulled from him when she hollowed her cheeks and sucked for all she was worth.  She wanted to take him in her mouth again, to kiss and suck and lick his cock until he was spilling himself over her tongue again.  She wanted it more than she wanted her next breath.  Wanted it even more than she wanted relief for her own arousal.

But he hadn’t given her permission.  So she waited, giving small, needy whimpers with every panting breath.  He kept her waiting there for nearly a full minute before he finally relented.

“Good girl,” he said, stroking her head affectionately.

Her heart swelled in her chest.  That was what she wanted.  She’d had her fun, playing the part of the brat as much as circumstances and her own desires would allow.  Now she was ready to be his good girl again, to do anything he asked, be whatever he wanted - 

“Open your mouth,” he whispered, fisting a hand around himself and slowly stroking from root to tip, “and stick out your tongue.”

She did exactly as he asked, reaching her tongue as far down her chin as it would go until her jaw ached.  She was rewarded with the head of his cock butting against her sensitive tongue, the salt of him on her taste buds as he jerked himself off against her.  

It was good, so good, but it wasn’t enough.  She wanted to take him into her mouth and taste him properly.  She wanted to reach a hand down under her skirt and relieve the unbearable throbbing between her legs.  She wanted him to fuck her, hard and deep.  But she hadn’t earned those things.  So she stayed perfectly still, and let him take what he wanted.  Whatever it was, he could have it.  It was already his.

There was another click of the camera, another whir as it spit out another photo.  That was fine; he could take as many pictures as he liked.

“There you go,” he hissed as his movements picked up speed.  “There you go.  That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?  What you’ve been after all day?  To be my toy, my fuckdoll, huh?  You seemed to enjoy swallowing down my cum last week.  Is that it?  You wanted more, didn’t you?”

Eddie didn’t seem to want an answer; his questions were meant to taunt her, to enhance that desperate edge to her arousal.  Still, she answered as best as she could.

“Uh huh,” she moaned low in her throat.

“That’s what I thought.”  His free hand fiddled with the buns on the top of her head, and soon her hair was free, falling around her shoulders.  “My pretty little cum whore, aren’t you?  And you’ll take it wherever I want to put it, won’t you?”

“Uh huh.”  Anywhere he wanted to put it - on her face, in her mouth, in her pussy…  She had a packet of birth control pills at home that she was going to start once she had her next period, but she was so deep in subspace and so painfully turned on that she just might let him do whatever he wanted.

But Eddie seemed to have ideas of his own.  Gritting his teeth, he jerked even faster against her tongue, until suddenly he was pulling her up on her knees.

When the first splash of warm cum hit her chest, they both cried out in unison.

“Fuck!” he snarled as he came in warm, pearlescent jets all over her tits.  “Fuck, baby, that’s it - so fucking sexy - look so good all covered in Daddy’s cum - such - a good - girl…”

Chrissy watched his face the whole time, watched has his teeth clenched and his eyes screwed shut.  Watched as his face went slack and his knees gave out underneath him.  He hit the carpeted floor with a thump and a grunt.  When his hands moved to her hips, trying to tug her into his lap, she resisted.

“I’m all sticky,” she protested half-heartedly.  “I’ve got cum on me.”

He gave her a lascivious leer.  “Yeah, baby girl, you’ve got it all over you,” he agreed, pulling her into his lap anyway.  His eyes dropped to her dripping breasts.  His tongue darted out to lick his lower lip.  “Let’s see if you’ve made any other messes I should know about.”

Chrissy’s face flamed as his hand crept under her skirt.  She’d been so turned on for so long that she could feel her juices slicking her inner thighs.  She knew the second he felt it - could tell by the slippery slide of his fingers against her inner thigh and the smugly satisfied grin on his face.

His big, warm hand cupped her pussy, and her hands clenched into fists behind her back to keep herself from rubbing herself shamelessly against him.  “There you are,” he murmured.  “Think you can keep this pretty pussy warm for me while me and the guys finish up?” he asked.  “If you can be good for me, I’ll take you home and take care of you.  Take care of every inch of you.”

Home.  His place.  His bed, his arms, his eyes.  All home.  She nodded eagerly.  “I can be good for you, Daddy,” she promised.

“I know you can, princess.”  

Taking one last picture of her cum-covered breasts, he gingerly tugged her top back up and did the ties up at the back of her neck.  The thin material of her halter top stuck to the fluids on her chest; no doubt anyone who looked closely enough would know exactly what they’d been doing.  The thought sent a thrill through her.  Reaching around her, he untied her wrists and used the bandana to wipe away a stray drop of cum her shirt didn’t cover.

Once they were both situated, Eddie gathered up the pictures and offered them to her.  “Here,” he said.  “Take ‘em, do whatever you want with ‘em.”

With a puzzled frown and a small ball of hurt forming in her chest, Chrissy took the pictures, shuffling through them worriedly.  She’d kind of thought, when he took the pictures, that maybe he’d… want to keep them for himself.  It was why she’d brought the camera in the first place, after all.  To be fair, though, she hadn’t expected Eddie to use it to take dirty pictures of her.

“Is… is something wrong with them?” she asked, her voice shaky and uneven.

“Something wrong with…?  No!”  In an instant, that smug, domineering mask was gone, and Eddie had her face cupped between his hands, his big, sweet eyes eclipsing her vision.  “God, no, Chrissy.  I just figured you’d want ‘em back.  I’ve heard horror stories about chicks giving dirty pics to the wrong guy and having them spread around.”

Closing her eyes, she took a long, shaking breath.  She really needed to slow her whirring thoughts down after a scene.  Subspace left her so emotional and off-kilter that sometimes she couldn’t help jumping to the worst conclusion.  A lifetime of belittlement and rejection made it almost instinctual.

“So… you liked them?” she asked, her voice small and achingly vulnerable.

“Liked them?  Jesus Christ, give me five minutes with them and I’ll be ready to go again,” he said.

“Then I want you to have them.”  His look of surprise gave her the courage to push onward.  “Eddie, I trust you.  I know you’d never do that to me.  So I’ll let you keep the pictures under two conditions.”

“Oh yeah?  What’s that?”  Eddie’s hands went back to her hips, tugging him toward his lap again.  This time, she went willingly, murmuring in pleasure as he nipped and sucked at her jaw.  A painful throb between her legs reminded her that she hadn’t gotten to cum yet.  Straddling his hips as she was, she couldn’t rub her thighs together to ease the ache.

His lips found her pulse point, making her thoughts scatter.  She did her best to regather them.  “First… unh… you… you have to let me take pictures of you,” she panted.  Her hands fluttered over his shoulders, toying with the ends of his hair.  “And… and second… you have to… oh god… you have to touch yourself to them and think of me.”

In an instant, his mouth was on hers, his lips sipping slowly, sweetly.  Chrissy melted into him with a sigh.  When his tongue licked at the seam of her lips, she was helpless to deny him entry.  His tongue tangled languorously with hers, stoking the blade of her arousal until she was quaking with the force of it.

“Daddy,” she whined, still fighting the urge to grind down on him.  “Daddy, it hurts.”  

It was no exaggeration.  Her clit felt swollen, bruised, and throbbing from going so long without satisfaction.  If he didn’t touch her properly soon, she just might burst into flames.

Eddie pulled back with a smirk.  “You, Chrissy Cunningham, are a dream come fucking true,” he said, shaking his head in admiration.  He rubbed his nose affectionately against hers.  She swallowed hard against the longing welling up in her chest.  “Can you hold on a little longer, princess?  Another hour, maybe two?”

She wanted to say no.  She was so turned on it hurt, her emotions still in upheaval and her thoughts fogged and slow.  If she told him she couldn’t do it, he’d get her off here and now.  It wouldn’t take much; she was primed and ready for takeoff.  

But she liked being pushed to her limits.  And she knew that if she did as he asked, her reward would be even sweeter.  Not trusting her voice, she nodded silently.

“That’s my girl.”  She beamed at him, basking in the warmth of his words.  Her heart felt so full with his praise that she could almost forget the emptiness in her cunt.  “Just let me finish up here.  Once we’re done here, I’ll take you home and eat your sweet little pussy ‘til you cry.”

Together, the two of them made their way back to the recording room.  Every step sent a jolt of want through her.  By the time Eddie helped her lower herself to the couch, her head was swimming.  

“Holy shit, he fucked her hair down,” one of the Corroded Coffin guys whispered.  She couldn’t be bothered to tell which one.  Neither did she make any effort to hide the smug little grin that played about her lips.  She’d been the one to put that look of lazy satisfaction on his face.  As far as she was concerned, that gave her bragging rights.

“Shut up,” Eddie grumped good-naturedly from the refreshments table.  He brought her a can of ice-cold root beer - her favorite, he remembered her favorite, even from all the way back then - and a small paper plate of cheese and crackers.  “Bit longer, baby.  Be done before you know it.”

She nodded, picked up a cracker, and took a nibble.  She was too keyed up to have much of an appetite, but at least it gave her something to focus on.

The boys piled into the other room, and Chrissy watched them play.  Well, that was a lie.  She watched Eddie play.  Watched how his biceps flexed as he picked up his guitar, how his tongue poked out against his lower lip when he was playing a complicated solo, watched his fingers - god, those fingers! - work the strings.

About forty-five minutes later, the last chords of the final song faded.  Abigail leaned over the soundboard to call into the intercom.  “That’s a wrap, people!  Good job in there!”

Soon, Eddie was pulling her to her feet and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  She let him guide her outside like a lost little lamb, somehow feeling like she was leaning heavily into his side and floating a few inches off the ground at the same time.  There was conversation going on around her, but she couldn’t seem to follow along.  All she could focus on were the weight of Eddie’s arm around her shoulders, the scent of him - sweat and hairspray and weed, and underneath, the musky smell of his cum wafting up from her chest - and the insistent throbbing between her thighs that now burned more than ached.

They made their way to Eddie’s car.  He opened the passenger door for her like he always did, holding onto her hand for balance while she lowered herself onto the hot leather seat with a hiss.  He closed the door for her, hurried around the car, and more or less threw himself into the driver’s seat.

He started the car, and even the slight purring of the engine was too much for her.  “Daddy,” she whimpered, her eyes stinging with tears.

He turned to her, his eyes wide with worry.  “Chrissy?  What is it, baby?  Are you okay?”

Not trusting herself to speak around the ache in her throat, she nodded.

“Did I do something wrong back there?  I know we didn’t talk about public stuff, but - “

She shook her head.  No, no, it wasn’t that.  She’d started it knowing exactly where it would lead.  She’d said green.  She hadn’t used her safe word, hadn’t needed it.

His hands delved into her hair, forcing her to look into his eyes.  His face was pale, his eyes huge in his drawn face.  He looked absolutely terrified.  “Chrissy, you’re scaring me. I need you to tell me what’s wrong.  Tell me what I can do.”

Her lower lip wobbled.  It took her three tries to get the words out, and when she did, they were hoarse and wobbly.  “I need to cum.”  Just saying the words made tears spill down her cheeks.

His face softened in sympathy and understanding.  “Oh, fuck.  Oh, baby, it’s okay.  You can cum.”  Just hearing that - his permission - was nearly enough to send her hurtling over the edge.  A single grind against the leather seat would probably do the trick.  But that wasn’t what she wanted.  She wanted him to do it.  “I can get us home in five minutes,” he said.  “Can you wait that long?  Or do you need me to give you one now?  You’re still my good girl either way.  Just tell me what you need.”

His praise gave her the strength to speak.  She sniffled and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.  “Home,” she begged.  “Home, please.”

“Okay, sweetness.  Just hold on.  Hold on a little longer and I’ll take care of you.  Fuck, I’ll take such good care of you.”

He threw the car into gear and took off, driving faster than he had that morning.  This wasn’t the same Eddie who drove like a bat out of hell, for which she was grateful.  In her current state, she wasn’t sure she could handle that sort of ride.

Once they were on the road, he offered her his hand.  She took it in both of hers, slowly committing it to memory by touch: tracing the veins, playing with his cool silver rings, weaving her fingers with his.  The warm, solid presence of him helped her feel a bit less overwhelmed.

The moment they got to his place, Eddie killed the engine.  He circled around the car to her door again.  To her surprise, he scooped her out of the car, pulling her against him.  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist by instinct, and his palms on her ass held her steady against him.  By some miracle, he managed to get the key in the lock and throw the door open, swearing under his breath when Chrissy started to lick and suck at his throat.

“God!  Think you can make it to the bedroom, princess?  Or do you need one here?”  Chrissy’s hips jerked against him, and she whined wordlessly against his throat.  He chuckled.  “Can’t wait that long, can you?  I think you need it now.”  His hands, still cupping her ass, gave her a little shake.  “C’mon, sweet girl, let go.  I’ll give you what you need.”

Chrissy didn’t want to.  If she had her way, she’d stay wrapped around Eddie forever.  But the burning ache between her legs was more painful than pleasurable now; if she didn’t get some relief soon, she didn’t know what she’d do.  So, reluctantly, she let him go, sliding down the length of his body until her feet touched the floor.

Eddie wasted no time.  He pressed her back to the nearest wall before dropping to his knees.  His big hands coaxed first one thigh, then another, over his shoulders so her legs were draped over his back and his head was up her skirt.  His hands supported her ass as she more or less perched on his shoulders, and he dove in without preamble.

It didn’t take long.  A lick, a nibble, and a suck, and Chrissy’s climax ripped through her, making her quake and moan against him.  She was so oversensitized that her orgasm was more painful than pleasurable, somehow too much and not nearly enough at the same time.  

But it relieved the awful ache between her legs.  She could be satisfied with that, for now.

For a few long minutes, the two of them stayed there: Chrissy perched on Eddie’s shoulders, Eddie on his knees with his head still buried between her legs, kissing and licking at her inner thighs like he couldn’t get enough.

She felt his muscles tense, and suddenly he was staggering to his feet, his face still planted firmly between her legs.  She shrieked, grabbing onto his hair  and wrapping her legs right around his head for balance.  His arms wrapped around her to steady her.

“Eddie!” she cried, laughing.  “Eddie, you’re gonna drop me!”

His hands tightened around her.  “I promise I won’t,” he said, his voice muffled under her skirt.  He started staggering blindly in the general direction of his bedroom.

“You can’t even see where you’re going!”

“Then it’s a good thing you’ve got a good view.”  His tongue darted out to lick an obscene stripe up her slit.  “Not as good as the one I’ve got, though.”

That wasn’t, strictly speaking, accurate.  She was facing towards Eddie’s back - which meant that while he was walking forwards, she could only see backwards.  Twisting to look over her shoulder, she saw that he was about to hit an obstacle.  “Coffee table!  Coffee table!  Move left!”

They continued on that way, staggering under the force of their shared laughter, across the living room and down the hall.  They managed to reach the bedroom without incident (“doorway, doorway, watch my head, watch my head”), and once he reached the bed he threw her down on it.  She bounced once or twice on the mattress  while he reached for her left foot.  While he unlaced her boot, she yanked at his black tank top, trying to pull it up over his head.

“You know, you’re - shit, fuck - you’re not making it easy for me to get you naked, princess,” he informed her.

“I could say the same thing to you,” she retorted, giving his shirt another sharp tug.  “Off!”

“Oh, no, little girl, this is about you,” he growled.  “I said I was gonna eat your pussy ‘til you cried.”

“You can do that with your shirt off,” she insisted stubbornly.  She loved seeing him naked.  Eddie was all smooth, pale skin stretched over wiry ropes of muscle, with patches of dark ink drawing the eye here and there.  He wasn’t just an artist, or a canvas for others to etch their designs on.  He was art.

He looked for a moment like he was going to argue.  Then he gave in with a sigh and a soft, fond look.  “Never could deny you anything,” he muttered, tugging the shirt off.  His dark brown curls fluffed around his shoulders.  “Your turn,” he added, tugging her boots off and starting on her knee socks.

Her pussy gave a small pulse, letting her know that it had gotten one measly semi-ruined orgasm, and was far from satisfied.  She wriggled her way out of her halter top and was already working on the buttons of her denim skirt when he got her socks off.

Once she was naked, Eddie crawled up the bed toward her like a predator stalking its prey.  He was hard against the fly of his ripped jeans, and at some point he must have toed his sneakers off.

“Fuck, Chrissy, been looking forward to this all day.  All week,” he muttered against her neck.  

His lips and teeth felt so good where they nipped at the sensitive patch of skin under her ear.  But that wasn’t what she wanted right now.  Threading her fingers through the dark tangle of his hair, she guided his lips to hers.

Distantly, she worried that she might be pushing him into something he didn’t want.  “Friends,” he’d said last week, and she tried to remind herself of that.  She’d done the friends with benefits thing before.  She could do it again - no matter how much every part of her screamed for more.

But Eddie didn’t kiss her like a friend.  He didn’t kiss her like it was a means to an end - a way to turn a girl on so she’d put out.  He kissed like kissing was its own end - sipping, sucking, savoring, sighing as they slowly melted into one another.  He kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her, like he could spend the rest of the night doing nothing else and still be satisfied.

Eventually, he stoked the embers of her arousal to a blaze once again.  Nipping, licking, and sucking his way slowly down her body, he eventually settled between her legs.  

This time, he went slower, kissing her nether lips, suckling them gently before slipping his tongue between them.

“Taste so good,” he mumbled into her.  “Oh, God, Chrissy, you taste so good.”

He took his time with her, building her up in a slow crescendo while her hands moved restlessly in his hair.  Her hips moved under him with a life of their own, rubbing herself against his nose while he fucked her with his tongue.

“That’s it.  That’s it, baby girl.  Fuck Daddy’s face,” he encouraged, slipping first one, then two fingers into her clenching, needy channel.

She rode on the waves of her pleasure, ascending higher and higher.  

“More, Daddy.  Please, more.  I’ve been your good girl,” she pleaded.

Suddenly, she felt something, his little finger, pressing to her puckered rear entrance.  He made no effort to push inside - just circled slowly, round and round, teasing the sensitive ring of muscle with light touches of his callused fingertip.

Chrissy moaned loudly, opening her legs wider in invitation.  Eddie lifted his mouth away from where he was tonguing her clit, and she could have wept.

“Something you want, princess?” he asked with a smirk.  “You’ve gotta ask for it if you want it.”

Chrissy’s face flamed.  True, she’d played with herself back there a few times in the private sanctuary of her bedroom.  But it was one thing to tease herself with anal play; it was quite another to ask for it from someone else.  From Eddie.

“Come on, sweetness,” he encouraged.  “I can feel how much you want it.  I can feel your sweet hole fluttering.  It’s begging to be filled, isn’t it?“

Wordlessly, she nodded.

“Yeah, it is,” he sighed.  “Can you ask for it?  Hmm?  Can my good little girl ask her Daddy for what she needs?”

Oh god, if he kept talking to her like that, she wouldn’t need to; she could climax just from the sound of his voice.

“P… please, Daddy, will you… will you put a finger in my bottom?” she asked in a tiny voice.

Eddie ducked his head down, and soon his finger - his little finger, but so much bigger than all of hers - was pressing into her ass.  Her legs quivered on either side of his head as he attacked her from three different points: clit, pussy, and ass.  Soon she was cumming against his face, fingers clawing at his scalp as the sensations buffeted her.  She was flying, floating outside her body, all sparks and electricity and pure sensation.  And just as suddenly, she was back - sweating, gasping, and writhing underneath Eddie as he kept his fingers moving inside her.

“Again,” he growled against her, the vibration of his voice going straight to her clit.  “Give me another one.”  

She was helpless to resist him as he sent her spiraling up in ecstasy another time.  This orgasm came quicker than the last, and left her feeling wrong out.

And still, Eddie kept licking, kept sucking, kept fucking both holes with his fingers.  It was too much - too much - and she scrambled to get away even as her hips arched into him, demanding more.

“I can’t,” she sobbed, tears pouring down her face to soak into his pillow.  “I can’t!”

“You can,” he assured her.

This time, he pulled his fingers free and mashed his face into her, like he was trying to devour her whole.  Chrissy relinquished her hold on his hair to claw at the sheets for purchase, legs kicking and jerking uselessly as she couldn’t decide whether or not to push him away.  His mouth was pleasure and pain all in one, too much and too sensitive and exactly what she needed.  

When she came for the final time, she screamed herself hoarse, her legs jackknifing around his head as her entire body tensed and convulsed.  Eddie eased her through it, gradually lightening his touches as she rode out the last waves of her pleasure.  Finally, it ended, leaving her gasping and spent beneath him.

Chrissy’s head swam, her brain afloat in a warm, peaceful ocean of pure bliss, gentle waves of contentment rocking her.  She was limp.  She was pliant.  She was cradled in the arms of love and tranquility, and she could stay here for the rest of her life.

So deep was she in that blissful state post-scene that she didn’t even hear Eddie leave the room, didn’t hear the bath tap running in the en suite bathroom.  It was only several minutes later, when his hand caressed the side of her face, that she opened her eyes, giving him a wide, bleary smile.

“Hey there, sweetness,” he murmured.  “Time to come back to me, okay?  Can you talk?”

Chrissy hummed happily.  “You’re so pretty,” she slurred, reaching out to touch his plump, kiss-swollen lower lip.  “So pretty.  S’not fair.”

“Whatever you say, sweet girl,” he said tolerantly, before scooping her up into his arms, bridal style.  “Come on, you.  Bath time.  We made you very sticky.”

Chrissy tried to gather her thoughts enough to take inventory of herself.  It was slow going; her thoughts felt like they were steeped in molasses.  Sticky - yes, she was sticky.  Her skin was covered in sweat.  There were tear tracks running down her face.  Her upper thighs were a mess of her juices and his saliva.  And her breasts were itchy with the drying, flaking remains of Eddie’s cum.

It would be a shame to wash that off.  She’d liked how the warm, white ropes of cum had looked on her.  It was… pretty.

“I like when you make me sticky,” she decided.

He snorted.  “I like it too, princess,” he said patiently.

Once they were in the bathroom, he lowered her feet to the floor, keeping an arm around her waist when her legs wobbled.  She dipped a toe experimentally into the tub, making a pleased noise when the water was warm without being too hot.  She sank down into it with a moan.

Eddie grabbed a bar of soap and worked up a lather, slowly washing her from the neck downward.  His every touch made Chrissy hum and purr in contentment, squirming around in the water in a way that made him laugh quietly.  She liked that.  Eddie always knew how to make her laugh.  It felt good to be able to do the same for him.  It made her feel… good.  Important.  Like she mattered to him.

She wanted so badly to matter to him.

When he finished rinsing her off, she tilted her head back, wordlessly asking for a kiss that he seemed happy to provide.  It was a slow, lingering kiss - one without any need for deepening or exploration.  It was a kiss that was enough, just the way it was.

When she pulled back, she looked into Eddie’s eyes… and frowned.  There was a tightness around his dark eyes, a tension in the way that he held himself.  Had he been like that this whole time?  

“Eddie?  What’s wrong?”  Reaching up, she cupped his cheek.  He leaned into her touch, heedless of the water soaking into his hair and dripping down his chest.  Belatedly, she remembered something he’d told her weeks ago: that he liked to be touched and held after a scene.  Reaching down, she tugged at one of the belt loops of his jeans.  “Come on.  Take your pants off and get into the tub.”

He chuckled.  “Bossy, aren’t you?”

“Yup.  You bossed me around earlier.  Now it’s my turn.”

With a sigh, he stood up and shucked his jeans and boxers.  Chrissy eyed his nude form with interest, noting some of his newer tattoos - a sword on his calf, a sinuous snake by one hip, a weird shape with a 20 imprinted on it - before he lowered himself behind her into the water.  She sat between his raised knees, leaning back into his warm, solid chest with a mewl of contentment.  His arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her closer, and she covered them with her own.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.  They simply lounged together in each other’s arms, letting the slowly cooling water lull them into a sense of peace.  Eddie’s ever-busy fingers drew random patterns on her stomach.  Turning her head to the side, Chrissy pressed her ear to his chest so she could listen to the slow, steady beat of his heart.

Gradually, the tension left Eddie’s frame, leaving him as limp and pliant as she was.  Eventually, he spoke.

“I made you cry.”

Chrissy blinked.  Was… was that what was bothering him?  

“You said you were going to,” she agreed slowly, cautiously, like she was trying to approach a baby bird without frightening it.  “You said you’d eat me out ‘til I cried.  And I did.  But - but I liked it.  If I didn’t, I would’ve safeworded.”

He shook his head.  “No, I mean before then.  In the car.  We took things too far, and I made you cry.”

“It’s not exactly the first time,” she pointed out pragmatically.  “I cried last week when you spanked me.  And after, when we talked about… you know.  About my parents.”

“It’s not the same,” he said.  His voice sounded thick and uneven, like he was holding back tears.  Chrissy made to rise up on her knees and turn to him.  His tightened grip at her waist stopped her.  Instead, she relaxed against him, tucking her head under his chin.  “Look, it’s… it’s one thing to make you cry when I’m doing something for you.  Alright?  Like… yeah, you cry when I spank you because it hurts, but you like it.  Right?”

“Right,” she said cautiously, still not understanding.

“Yeah, well, that’s not what happened in the car today,” he said darkly.  “You cried because I didn’t give you something.  Something you needed.”

“You did, though - “

He cut her off with an agitated noise.  “Just… just let me finish.  Okay?”

She nodded, wishing she could see his face.  But if he needed her to face away from him for this, she could give him that much.  “Okay,” she said softly.

“Back then,” he said, and she didn’t have to wonder about when he meant, “back then, you were so… fucking… unhappy,” he said.  “You - god, every time you came to my place, you’d cry your fucking heart out.  You were so small, so thin, and I was so scared that you…”  “He shuddered violently.  “It was like nobody could see you, not Carver, not your mom, and - “  He cut himself off with a long, shaking breath.  When he continued, his voice was steadier.  “I told myself I was never gonna be one of those people.  Not to you.  I never wanted to make you cry because I didn’t give you something you need.”

Oh.  Now she understood.  Eddie had been there for her so many times back in their final months of high school, holding her together while she fell apart.  It had never really occurred to her that seeing her in that state had been so hard on him.  He’d always been so brave, so funny, so perfect that she’d just assumed he took it all in stride.  If her happiness meant this much to him, then maybe…

Maybe… she meant more to him than she thought.  Maybe.

But everything was so new and fragile between them.  Maybe he wanted more from her, but wasn’t ready for it just yet.  If she came right out and told him that she’d been pining after him for seven years, she just might ruin everything.

If he needed her to take things slow, then she could do that.  And if it turned out that he didn’t want more… well, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

This time, when she tried to turn around, he let her.  His eyes were lowered and red-rimmed, and his cheeks were wet.  Rising up on her knees, she cupped his face in both hands and brushed his tears away with her wet thumbs.

“I’m okay,” she said firmly.  “I’m not starving anymore.  I’m not abused or neglected anymore.  I can speak up for myself in a way I never could back then.”

“I used you,” he insisted.  “How does that make me any better than them?”

“You’re not like them.  You could never be like them,” she insisted.  

This wasn’t him, she realized.  Not really.  This was the result of a stressful week, a long day, and a scene that had gone too far.  Top drop was something she’d never seen before, but she’d heard about it once or twice.  That had to be what was happening here.  He might not have gone through the physical pain of a good scene, but the stress must have gotten to him and sent him spiraling into a whirlpool of guilt.

They’d talk about this later, once his emotions evened out a bit.  Obviously, there was a boundary that needed to be set here.  But that could wait until she’d soothed his guilt.

Leaning forward, she pressed a long, lingering kiss to his forehead.  Wrapping his arms around her waist, he bent his neck and buried his face between her breasts.

“You’re okay.  We’re okay.  I’m okay,” she crooned, stroking a hand through his damp hair while he trembled in her arms.  

Eventually, his trembling stopped, and his breathing evened out.  He self-consciously scrubbed the tears from his face with the heel of his palm.

“Sorry,” he muttered.  “I didn’t - “

She shushed him.  “There’s nothing to apologize for,” she said.  A shiver ran through her, and only then did she realize that the bath water had gone cold.  She thought back to the things she saw around his bedroom, hoping to come up with something to distract him.  “You have a Super Nintendo, right?  Why don’t you show me what games you have?  We can order a pizza, smoke, play some games…  It’ll be like old times.  Just with video games.”

His smile was a small, fragile thing, but it was genuine.  “Fine.  But we’re getting separate pizzas this time,” he said.  “Last time you and I went half-and-half, there was fungus on my side.”

Giggling, but secretly pleased that he remembered such a small detail of their last time together in Hawkins, she stood up, letting the water sluice off her.  She didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered up and down in interest.

“Come on, you,” she called, beckoning with one finger.  “You can show me how to play.”

Chapter Text

At precisely eleven the next morning, Eddie was seated at the countertop with a bowl of cheesy scrambled eggs, two slices of buttered toast sprinkled with cinnamon sugar, and a big mug of coffee, when the phone rang.

Eddie didn’t even bother checking the caller ID.  There was only one person who called him at eleven every Sunday morning.  Picking up the phone, he cradled it between his ear and shoulder as he took a bite of toast.  “Hey, old man.  How’s it hangin’?”

“Same as always.  Work’s still a shitshow with the boss out on leave,” Wayne replied.  

Eddie frowned, hastily chewing and swallowing a bite of eggs.  “Phil Cunningham’s still on leave?  It’s been, what, two months, hasn’t it?”

Wayne grunted in agreement.  “More or less, yeah.  Management’s been real tight-lipped about the whole thing.  Word is, nobody’s seen him or Laura around town much, either.”  Eddie heard an audible slurp of coffee over the phone.  “Anyway, enough about that.  How ‘bout you?  How’s tricks?”

Eddie gestured with his fork.  “Ah, you know - same shit, different pile.  We finished recording yesterday.  Gonna let the sound guys work their magic.  Then we’ve got photos for the album art, promos, and interviews before the album drops.  After that, the tour.”  

“And how long’s this one going for?”

“Three months,” Eddie replied.  “Then, depending on how album sales go abroad, Abigail’s in talks with the label about doing an international tour.”

“Uh-huh.  And how’s your girl feel about that?”

Squirming uncomfortably, grateful for the thousands of miles of distance that kept Wayne from seeing his hot blush, he took a swig of his coffee to delay a bit.  “Come on, man, I told you: she’s not my girl.”  Fumbling in his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter, he put one to his lips and lit up.

Wayne scoffed.  “Boy, that dog don’t hunt.  I saw how that girl used to cling onto you when I woke up to you two cuddled on the couch.  More’n once I caught her makin’ the same goo-goo eyes you did when you thought the other wasn’t looking.”  There was a crunch over the line, and when Wayne continued, his voice was slightly muffled around whatever he was chewing.  “Trust me, Ed - that girl’s just as smitten as you are.”

“Then how come she told me last weekend she didn’t want her parents finding out about me?” Eddie asked snippily.  He didn’t wait for an answer.  “I’ll tell you why: because even with the money and fame, I’m the last person any parent wants their daughter to bring home.”

“Hey!” Wayne snapped, his voice taking on a deep, sharp tone that Eddie had only heard once in his life: the day he’d nearly dropped out of school after failing senior year for the second time.  It was a tone that made Eddie snap to attention.  “Now you listen here, boy, and you listen good.  Any parent worth their salt would be fuckin’ thrilled if their kid brought you home.  You got that?”

“Laura and Philip Cunningham wouldn’t,” Eddie muttered petulantly.

“That’s right, they wouldn’t.  Because they ain’t worth their salt,” Wayne retorted.  “Listen, Ed, you know better’n I do the number that girl’s parents did on her.  They did a damn good job covering it all up, too.  If you hadn’t told me some of that shit, I might never have believed it myself.”  There was a pause, and Eddie knew Wayne was taking a long drag from a cigarette.  “They twisted her up like a pretzel, son.  You know that.”

Eddie sighed.  “I know, I know.”

The truth of Chrissy’s circumstances had been a shock to him, as well.  He’d always assumed that she had this perfect, charmed life.  And on the surface, she did.  But the first night she’d come over to his trailer to get high, he’d gotten a good look at the horrors that lurked underneath.  He had a front-row seat to her meltdown, and in his half-stoned state he’d done everything he could to make it better.

Of course, “everything in his power” wasn’t much.  A glass of water, a napkin from a take-out meal to wipe the puke off her lips, and a lukewarm soda that had been crammed in the back of the pantry for god knew how long.  Oh, and a ride home once she sobered up a bit, after she’d refused to crash on the couch.  That was it.  But she’d appreciated it in the moment. 

“She’s not like that anymore, though,” he added.  “God, Wayne, you should see her!  She’s confident.  She’s funny.  She’s sexy.  I swear I’ve never seen her this happy.  It’s like she’s a whole different person.”

“She ain’t, though, is she?” Wayne asked rhetorically.  “You gotta remember, Ed, that she might seem like a whole new person, but all that shit she went through?  Didn’t happen to someone else.  It happened to her.  That shit leaves a mark.  One uglier and just as long-lasting as those godawful tattoos of yours.”

Eddie magnanimously chose to ignore that last dig.  “Still.  It’s been seven years.  Shouldn’t she be… I dunno, done with their shit by now?”

“And how many years did you check the mailbox on your birthday for a letter from that no-good brother of mine?” Wayne asked sagely.  Eddie didn’t answer.  They both knew the answer to that question: too many.  “Give her time, boy.  Not everybody can shrug off people’s crap as easily as you can.  You’ve had more practice than most folks.  She’ll get there eventually.  Or she won’t, and you’ll know where you stand.”

“I guess.”  

That was something that, honestly?  Eddie didn’t get.  He dealt with people’s crap all the time.  From his abusive shithead dad before the asshole got put away in prison.  From an entire high school that wrote him off as a loser freak.  From record labels who wouldn’t give Corroded Coffin the time of day because they didn’t have that “It Factor,” whatever the fuck that meant.  From pearl-clutching “concerned parents” who were convinced that his band and others like it were out there single-handedly corrupting America’s youth.  From critics and snobbish fans who insisted that every album they came out with was “a total sellout.”

Point was, he was used to dealing with having his every move picked apart and found wanting.  And yeah, it fucking hurt.  It hurt being abandoned, being dismissed, being demonized for the heinous crime of being unapologetically himself.  Making a game out of it helped - seeing just how many scandalized gasps and outraged glares he could get on the stage of his choosing, whether it was a cafeteria table or a sold out stadium show - but at the end of the day?  To survive the bullshit, sometimes you just had to say “fuck it” and cut the assholes out of your life.  It wasn’t always easy, but it was simple. 

So why was it so damn hard for Chrissy to do the same?

Well, it was a moot point, anyway.  They weren’t a thing.  Sure, they chatted on the phone at night once or twice a week, but they never once talked about being exclusive.  What’s more, every time they hung out, it was all about the arrangement between them.  They might eat, smoke, watch movies, and play video games, but that was all just window dressing for the main event: kinky sex.

Most telling of all: while he’d had her over twice, and invited her to watch a recording session - something he’d never done for another person before - she had yet to stay the night. She hadn’t brought an overnight bag, and after a few hours of hanging out, she’d make some comment about needing to get home.  If he had even a bit less dignity, he might’ve begged her to stay the night.  

“Earth to Ed, you still there?” Wayne asked, snapping him out of his morose thoughts.

“Huh?  Right, yeah, what’s up?” Eddie asked.  He moved to take a drag of his cigarette, and noted with some surprise that it was already burned nearly down to the filter.  Stubbing it out in a nearby ashtray, he settled for a swig of coffee, instead.

“I said, when’re you gonna have her join us for breakfast?” he repeated.

Eddie’s face went hot.  “The hell gives you that idea?  I’ve never had a chick join our calls.”

Wayne didn’t need to know that he’d come close to asking Chrissy to do exactly that.  Instead, he’d chickened out and asked if she minded if he told Wayne about them.

He could practically hear Wayne’s deliberately nonchalant shrug over the phone.  “First time for everything, I s’pose,” he said.  “Alright, alright, I’ll drop it.  So when’s the album come out?  The new kid at the plant is a fan.  Listens to your music all the time.  I need to know when to start wearing earplugs to work.”

Eddie snorted.  “Aren’t you already half-deaf from working there, old man?”

“Yup, and if I don’t wear earplugs, that noise you call music is gonna finish the job,” Wayne shot back.

The two of them continued on like that until their plates were cleared, washed, and drying in their respective dish racks.  When they were getting ready to hang up, Wayne had one last parting word.

“Don’t play things too safe, Ed,” he advised.

“When do I ever?” Eddie asked, deliberately misunderstanding.

“Don’t play dumb with me, boy.  I’m not talking about moving across the country or living in a van for six months on the off chance you might make it big.  I’m talking about people.  Connections.  You let Chrissy slip through your fingers once.  Don’t let it happen again.”

“What can I do?”  The words were out of his mouth before he even realized he’d thought them.  That wasn’t surprising; Wayne had always been there to offer advice.  It was only natural that Eddie went to him.

“Same thing I did when I found myself taking care of someone whose parents never did right by him: show her you’re in it for the long haul.  Show her she’s safe with you.  If she wants space, you give her space.  If she wants to talk about her problems, you listen - without trying to fix her problems, mind.  Not unless she asks you to.”

Eddie paused, considering his uncle’s words.  Wayne had his eternal fucking gratitude for taking in an angry, half-feral kid with a stubborn independent streak born from too many years of having to fend for himself.  Without Wayne’s steadfast patience and low tolerance for Eddie’s posturing crap, Eddie probably would’ve dropped out of school and followed in his old man’s footsteps.  

But it never occurred to him just how much thought had gone into that.  Wayne made it all look… well, not easy.  There were times, early on, when Eddie hadn’t made things easy on the older man.  But he made it look like pure instinct.

“Okay, so what if I do all that, and Chrissy still decides it’s not worth it?”  Eddie kept the true meaning of his words - what if she decides that I’m not worth it? - close to his chest.

“Then you’ll know,” Wayne said simply.  “And it’ll hurt like a sumbitch.  And it’ll keep hurting, just a little bit less each day, until one day that hurt gets small enough to ignore.  But you know what?” he added.  “That still beats lying in bed every night, mooning over what might’ve been.  That hurt never goes away.”

Eddie’s tongue poked at his inner cheek as he gave the matter serious thought.  It sounded like it was gonna take a lot of work, time, and patience on his part, with a high risk that it might not even pay off in the end.  The easier thing would be to pull back, keep things casual, just like Wayne warned him against doing.

But all he had to do was think back to last night - to the gentle way she talked him down when the stress of the past few weeks caught up with him, to her delighted cackle when her Princess Peach overtook his Bowser in Mario Kart, to the way her eyes fell to the floor when she asked him to take her home - and his resolve firmed.

High effort, high risk, high chances of him crashing and burning on the rocky shoals of disappointment - Chrissy was worth all that and more.

To Eddie’s surprise, Chrissy wasn’t waiting for him outside her apartment building the following Saturday. He glanced dubiously at the clock on his dashboard.  One thirty in the afternoon, just like they’d agreed last night during their two hour phone call.  Was she running late?  Maybe, but he kinda doubted it.  Back in Hawkins, she’d been obsessively punctual, apparently because of her mother (he could practically hear Chrissy reciting “if you’re early, you’re on time; if you’re on time, you’re late” in Laura Cunningham’s clipped tones).

Still, it’d been eight years.  Maybe she’d shaken that habit since then.

Stomach fluttering with trepidation, he gave her another fifteen minutes, drumming his hands anxiously on the steering wheel.  When she still didn’t show, he took a deep, steadying breath.  When he blew it out, his hair stirred against his cheeks.

Okay.  So… okay.  Chrissy was a no-show.  The thought that she was blowing him off flitted through his mind, and was quickly brushed away.  Pessimism didn’t come naturally to Eddie, and anyway, Chrissy wouldn’t have called him up last night to confirm their weekly date if she was planning to stand him up.  She sure has hell wouldn’t have sounded so excited to see him, even in spite of the tiredness that had left her quieter than usual.

His drumming stopped.  Actually… that was a good point.  She had sounded sort of strained toward the end of their conversation.  She’d blamed a long week and crowded classes, but he wondered if maybe she was sick.

Climbing out of his car, he crossed the street quickly, his long legs eating the distance between him and her apartment building in no time flat.  Testing the front door revealed that it was locked.  Just next to it was a panel of buttons: a buzzer and intercom system with a column of buttons that would reach any apartment in the building.  Scanning name tags by each button, he eventually found what he was looking for: a listing for C. Cunningham.  

He pushed the button, which made the nearby speaker issue a loud buzzing sound.  After a minute or so, the speaker crackled to life.  Chrissy’s voice came out, tinny and staticky.  

“H’lo?” she mumbled groggily.

“Chrissy!”  He grimaced, cleared his throat, and mentally scolded himself to dial it back.  “Hey.  It’s Eddie.  I’m, uh, hanging out on the sidewalk, and just wanted to know if you’re running fashionably late or if I’m flying solo today.”

“Oh, um… I can’t.  I’m sorry, I tried to call you, but you must’ve already left your house.”

Eddie nodded, even though she couldn’t see it.  When he spoke, he did his best to mask the disappointment in his voice.  “That’s cool, that’s cool.  Everything alright?”

“Oh.  Um.  I, um… yeah, everything’s fine, I just… my Aunt Flo came a few days early,” she stammered.

“Oh.  That’s cool.  Didn’t know you had an aunt in LA,” he said.

“No, I mean, I’ve got my monthly visitor.”

Eddie scratched the back of his head.  “Yeah, you just said that.  It’s no big.  You can hang out with your aunt this weekend; I’ll catch you next Saturday.”

“Eddie!” she hissed, the speaker garbling her voice so badly he could hardly catch what she was saying.  “I’m trying to say I’m on my period.”

Eddie groaned in realization.  “Ah, fuck.”  How the hell hadn’t he put that together?  Granted, he’d never heard the “Aunt Flo” euphemism before, but “monthly visitor?”  Come on.  He was smarter than that.

Honestly, he blamed Chrissy.  She had a way of making his brain melt and leak out of his ears without even trying.

“Yyyeah,” Chrissy agreed.  “So… I mean… now you get why I can’t hang out today.”

“What, cuz of your period?  That’s it?” Eddie blurted without thinking.

Chrissy bristled.  “Just my period?” she snapped.  “Just my period.  Tell you what: when you’re cramping, miserable, exhausted, hurting all over, and so ho… hungry you can’t see straight for four days every month, you can tell me my period is no big deal.”

Sensing he’d just stepped in it big time, Eddie quickly backpedaled.  “No no no, I didn’t mean it’s no big deal!  I know it totally sucks.  Sorry - I just meant, you know, I’m not gonna treat you like a leper because of it.  If you wanna hang out, that’s cool.  If not, I’ll catch you next week, yeah?”

For nearly a minute, no sound came out of the intercom speaker.  Eddie tongued nervously at his lower lip, worried that he’d dug an even deeper hole for himself.  

When Chrissy did eventually speak, her voice sounded strained.  “No, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have snapped at you.  I’m just… I’m not good company right now.  I’m cranky and tired and gross and just… blugh.”  She sighed raggedly.  “I’m just… I’m really not up for a scene today.  I’m sorry.”

“Jesus, Chrissy, this isn’t a ‘give one apology, get two free’ deal,” he quipped.  “You don’t need to apologize for PMS.  You wouldn’t apologize for having the flu, would you?”

“Um…”

“Forget I asked that,” he backtracked hastily.  “Look, if you need space, that’s all you’ve gotta say.  Okay?  Doesn’t matter if it’s PMS or other plans or you just plain get sick of looking at me.  You call the shots here, princess.  I’m but your humble servant.”

Eddie half-expected Chrissy to take a cheap shot about how ‘humble’ shouldn’t be used to describe someone as full of himself as he played himself up to be.  He set her up for the joke, after all.

But she didn’t take it.  “Eddie, I - I’m not - I don’t - if it weren’t for - “

“Whoa, whoa, hey, hey, hey,” he interrupted, keeping his voice low and soothing.  “It’s cool.  Seriously.  You don’t need to justify anything to me.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m blowing you off,” she said unhappily.

Eddie’s heart leapt to his throat.  He swallowed it back down until it parked its ass behind his rib cage where it belonged.  It mattered to her that he didn’t think she was blowing him off.  Which meant his feelings mattered to her.  

He knew he shouldn’t read too much into it.  Chrissy cared deeply about how everyone around her felt.  Too deeply, in Eddie’s opinion.  He wouldn’t spare half the worry for others’ opinions that Chrissy did.  As far as he was concerned, only people in his inner circle deserved to take up that much mental real estate.  Or so he told himself.

Chrissy’s kind, soft heart left her vulnerable and open to untold kinds of hurt, but damn it, it was one of the things he loved about her.  Even when it wasn’t directed at him any more than anybody else.  He hated that there were people out there - people like her mother and Jason Carver - who would exploit her, would prick at the tender flesh of her heart, bleeding it dry until it was a withered husk.

Chrissy deserved someone who would put her first for once.  Right now, he was lucky enough to be that guy.  He wasn’t about to blow it.

“Look, it’s really no big deal,” he insisted.  “We’ll hang out next week.  Or the week after.  Recording’s over, so I’ve got nothing but time.”

If he had his way, she’d be at his place all day, every day, in every position he could think of.  On her knees, or ass up on the bed, or riding his face.  She’d be there when he woke up in the morning, the sleepy warmth of her smile the only sunshine he needed.  They’d watch movies, smoke weed, play video games.  She’d listen to him ramble about the D&D campaigns he wrote but never had a chance to play anymore, and he’d let her talk him into twisting his out-of-shape butt into whatever yoga positions she wanted with only minimal light-hearted bitching.

“Well… if you’re sure…” Chrissy said, not sounding exactly happy.

“I’m sure,” he confirmed, mentally patting himself on the back for giving her space, just like Wayne said.  “I’ll call you later tonight and see how you’re feeling, alright Princess?”

“Okay… bye…”

Ignoring the part of himself demanding that he find an excuse, any excuse, to stay, Eddie tore himself away from the intercom and walked back to his car.  The second he started the ignition, he shut the radio off, electing to replay their conversation in his head, instead.

He was halfway home by the time he stopped patting himself on the back and realized he was a fucking idiot.

Her words replayed in his head on repeat.  “I’m not good company right now.”  “I’m really not up for a scene today.”  “I’m cranky and tired and gross.”

She wasn’t saying that she didn’t want to hang out with him.  She was giving reasons why he wouldn’t want to be near her.

And honestly?  He didn’t give a rat’s ass about any of that.  She was cranky?  So was he when he was hungry.  She was in pain?  All the more reason for her to let him take care of her.  Sex was off the table?  That was fine.  The sex was good - okay, fine, it was fucking incredible - but it wasn’t his main motivation. He just wanted to be with her.

Going back home, he quickly rushed up to the bedroom and shucked his ripped jeans and plain black tank top.  Instead, he changed into his rattiest gray sweatpants and a baggy, bleach stained Motörhead T-shirt.  If Chrissy was as self-conscious about her looks right now as she sounded, he’d dress down to show her it was no big deal.

Snagging a paper bag from a closet, he rummaged through his nightstand until he found a baggie of weed, some rolling papers, and a lighter, and packed them up.  A bottle of aspirin was next.  Then a six pack of beer, a bag of chips, and a frozen pizza.  Packing it all up in the car, he pulled out of the driveway and hit the road.

He made three stops on the way to Chrissy’s place.  First, he hit the drug store, venturing to the “sanitary napkins” section.  It didn’t take him long to realize his mistake.  He’d figured shopping for this stuff was straightforward: grab either pads or tampons and call it a day.  He hadn’t realized there were so many options.  There were light, regular, and super.  Scented and unscented.  Tampons with plastic and cardboard applicators, with and without moisture-wicking braids.  Pads for overnight, pads for active days, pads with wings, whatever the fuck those were for.

He was in way over his head here.  Pick the wrong thing, and he risked offending Chrissy.  And with a pizza defrosting in his car in the hot California sun, he didn’t have time to hunt down a pay phone and call her to ask what she used.  Next time, though, he’d be prepared.  If she kept him around that long.

As a compromise, he grabbed a couple bags of chocolates - dark for her, milk for himself - and a bouquet of mixed flowers in various shades of pink and yellow.  Was it cheesy?  Yeah, probably.  But Chrissy seemed like the type who didn’t mind cheesy.

Next stop was the cafe where they’d met up the day after the kink party.  He ordered the same things they’d ordered that day - tea and a scone for her, chocolate coffee monstrosity and chocolate chip muffin for him.  Last stop was the movie store, where he rented as many flicks as he could: a comedy (because Chrissy might need a good laugh), a fantasy film (because duh, Eddie was Eddie), a romcom (chicks liked those, right?), and an action movie (because who didn’t like to watch punches and explosions when they were pissy?).  

When he got back to his car, he eyed his haul consideringly.  Chocolates, flowers, junk food, aspirin, and movies.  Not bad, considering he’d never done this before.  He just hoped Chrissy would like it.

Arms laden with plastic bags, he walked back to her apartment building and hit the buzzer.

This time, when she answered, her voice was short.  “What.”

He lifted the bags to show them to her, belatedly remembering that she couldn’t see him.  “Hey, princess!  I come bearing a tithe.”

“Huh?”

“Presents.  I brought presents,” he clarified.  “Buzz me in and I can deliver ‘em right to your doorstep - no fuss, no muss, no delivery fees.  There in thirty minutes or less, or your order’s free.”

She didn’t laugh.  In fact, she didn’t sound happy at all to see him when she spoke.  “Eddie, you heard what I said earlier, didn’t you?  I’m really not up for…”

Eddie waited nearly ten seconds for her to finish her thought.  When she didn’t, he spoke up.  “I know,” he said.  “I didn’t come here looking to push anything on you.  We can just chill out, smoke some weed, eat shitty food and watch movies, no strings attached.”  She didn’t respond, which sent his nerves jangling with anxiety.  “Or, Option B: if you wanna be alone, just say the word.  I’ll drop off my ill-gotten gains at your door and fuck off for the rest of the day.”

He hoped she didn’t pick Option B.  He really hoped she didn’t.  Even if all she wanted to do was watch the Home Shopping Network all day and moan about her cramps, even if she wouldn’t let him touch her with a ten-foot pole, there was no place he’d rather be than with her in her apartment, taking care of her.

“I want you to come up,” she said, her voice a frustrated whine.  “But Eddie, I’m gross.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand agitatedly against his jaw.  This was a throwback to their last few months of high school, when she’d hang out at his trailer.  Even hanging out at the trailer park, tucked away in the privacy of the Munson home, Chrissy couldn’t stand to be seen looking anything less than her best.  Eddie had sort of figured she’d managed to get past that over the years.

Wayne was right, it seemed.  She might be a new, confident Chrissy, but those old wounds were still there.  They might be scabbed over and kept clear of infection, but a wrong move could split them right open.

Lucky for him, he had a tried and true method of getting through to her when her brain’s internal tectonics rendered molehills into insurmountable peaks.

“Gross, huh?” he teased.  “How gross we talking here, Cunningham?  Is this like X-Wing sinking into the swamps of Dagobah gross, or full-on Bog of Eternal Stench gross?  Or is this eldritch horror, your head grew spider legs and split off from your body gross?”  He hummed thoughtfully.  “Not really one of my kinks, but I bet we could make it work.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it!”  Despite her harsh words, they held no bite.  In fact, he was pretty sure he heard a stifled giggle over the intercom speaker.  But she quickly sobered.  “But I’m bloated and greasy and just… blugh.”

He blinked.  “Is that it?”

“I haven’t shaved in almost a week,” she persisted.  “I haven’t even brushed my hair today.”

Silently, Eddie winged off a prayer of thanks that he was two years older than Chrissy, so she’d missed his grody phase in early high school.  He’d regularly shown up to school looking (and smelling) way worse than what Chrissy described.  It had taken Wayne sitting down with a bag of toiletries and a lecture about how he hadn’t given up the bedroom just for his nephew to make it uninhabitable to make Eddie get his shit together.

“None of that shit makes you gross,” he said back in the present.  “None of it.  And even if it did, I really don’t give a shit.  So if you really don’t want me coming up, just say the word and I’ll go home.  But if you’re coming up with these excuses for my benefit?  Don’t.”

For about ten seconds, there was no response.  Then, in a small voice, she said, “I really want you to come up.”

Eddie’s knees practically buckled in relief.  She wanted him to come up.  She really wanted him to come up.  His head swam and butterflies danced in his stomach.  He felt like a nervous virgin teen on his first date, rather than an established rockstar about to hang out with the woman he’d already had kinky sex with.

The buzzer sounded, and beside him, the front door unlocked.  Eddie let himself inside, following the footstep-worn trail on the old Berber carpet from entrance to elevator.  He rode the lift up to Chrissy’s floor, humming half-formed strains of a song he hadn’t written yet.  

When he knocked on the door to Chrissy’s apartment, her muffled voice came through the door.  “It’s unlocked!”

Eddie opened the door, and let himself into the tiniest apartment he’d seen since Corroded Coffin’s gigs started paying just well enough for the four of them to afford a pair of studio apartments they were forced to share.  But where the flat he shared with Gareth had been grimy, with paint peeling off the walls and decades worth of cigarette tar staining every surface, this tiny, cramped apartment was clean, with a fresh coat of sunny yellow paint on the walls and a carpet that had probably once been white, but was now a dingy gray-brown.  

The furnishings were sparse: just a couch with an ugly floral print, a beat up coffee table with ring stains on top, a side table with a TV on it, and a cluttered bookshelf crammed into a corner.  The attached kitchen was basically just a stove, a sink, and a two-foot expanse of counter space.  There were only three doors in the apartment: the one he’d come through, the open bathroom door next to the kitchenette, and what he could only assume was a closet.

A half dozen cork boards hung from the walls, each one absolutely covered with photos.  Eddie suspected they’d been taken with the very same Polaroid Chrissy had brought to the studio last week.  There were self-taken pictures of Chrissy grinning in front of statues, and mountains, and temples.  Others of her in various yoga poses Eddie knew he’d never have the flexibility to pull off.  Photos of a group of smiling people - some natives in some sort of traditional garb, which there tourists with dreadlocks and tie-dye shirts.

The cork board nearest the couch - where Eddie assumed Chrissy slept - was nearly empty.  There were only three photos on that one, all taken exactly one week ago.  The first one was Eddie standing outside the recording studio, eyes wide and mouth gaping in a yelp as Chrissy pinched his ass.  The second was a shot of the whole band playing.  The last was of Eddie alone, guitar in his hands.  His hair had started to escape the low ponytail he’d tied it into, and was sticking to the sweat on his face.  The picture must’ve been taken while he was doing a solo, because his brow was lowered and his tongue poked out between his lips in concentration.

It seemed he merited a spot all his own in a place with little room to spare.  He couldn’t help thinking back to his own bedroom, where the pictures he’d taken of Chrissy had a home of their own in his nightstand.

Shaking his head to clear that thought, he kept looking.  What was most remarkable about the room was the sheer volume of stuff.  The shelf, the coffee table, the sill of the single window - all were covered in knick-knacks and tchotchkes of all different descriptions.  There were hand-carved wooden figures and sculptures made of stone and pottery.  There were cheesy souvenirs and bits and bobs that looked like they’d come from the dollar store.  Treasure trolls with gem-studded bellybuttons, a handmade ceramic cup filled with pens with fluffy pink feathers coming from one end, and even a hedgehog chia pet soaking up all the sunlight it could from the window.

“That’s Herbert,” Chrissy said where she was curled up on the couch.  “Herb for short.  The landlord’s really cool about letting me hang whatever I want on my walls, but he’s got a strict no pets allowed policy.  Herb is my way of breaking the rules.”

He snorted.  “Always knew you had a little rebel in you, princess.”

Her answering smile, though wan, was genuine.  “Well, you should know.  You’re the one who put it in there.”

Biting back a dirty retort, Eddie elected to look Chrissy up and down, instead.  Her hair was in a messy bun at the top of her head, the strawberry blonde strands caught up in a purple scrunchie.  She wore a pair of mint green pajama pants with cupcakes on them, and a baggy purple and green striped sweater with a wide neck that fell off one shoulder.  She was curled up on her side with a bright red hot water bottle pressed to her abdomen.  

His breath caught in his throat.  The first time he’d seen a sixth grade Chrissy at the middle school talent show, he’d tripped over his words and his own feet trying to talk to the cutest girl he’d ever seen.  By the time they were in senior year - her first, his third - “cute” didn’t fit anymore.  She was beautiful.  And before today, every time he saw her, she was a total knockout: curves in all the right places, a smile that set his heart hammering in his chest, and stormy gray eyes that were a beguiling mix of sly mischief and shy eagerness to please.

None of those Chrissies - not one - could hold a candle to the one before him now.  Even dressed in pajamas, hair unbrushed, without a drop of makeup on her face, she was lovelier than he’d ever seen her.  Because even with her features drawn and pinched from the pain of her cramps, her face lit up with a smile at the sight of him.  

He grinned helplessly in return, his heart stuttering behind his ribs.  Visions danced behind his eyes of waking up next to Chrissy every morning: hair mussed, face shiny with sleep, looking sweetly sexy in her pajamas, smile glowing brighter than the morning sun pouring in through their bedroom window.

Fuck, he was such a goner.

Clearing his throat, he handed her the styrofoam cup and paper bag from the cafe.  “Chai tea and a blueberry scone, right?”

She smiled big - the smile that always stole his breath, the one that showed the crooked line of her teeth and brought out the apples of her cheeks.  “You remembered.”

“Course I did.”  Ducking his head - ostensibly to dig through the bags of stuff he’d brought, but really to hide his hot blush behind the curtain of his hair - he rummaged around and produced all the items in his makeshift care package.  “We’ve also got junk food, movies, weed, and beer.  Oh, and uh, I got you flowers,” he added, thrusting the bouquet into her hands and keeping his gaze locked somewhere past her shoulder.

“Everything a girl needs,” she murmured, bowing her head to sniff the flowers.  She reached up to cup his cheek with one warm, impossibly soft hand.  “Thanks, Eddie.  This was - this was really sweet.”

He shrugged casually, doing his damndest to bite back a goofy grin.  He was like ninety percent sure he failed miserably.  “Yeah, well.  What can I say?    I’m a natural born caretaker,” he joked.

Her eyes met his, and he swore she could see past all his bullshit to the heart of him.  “You know, I really think you are,” she murmured.

Unable to bear the feeling of being so seen, inside and out, he quickly changed the subject.  “So - movie.  Which one did you wanna watch first?”

She picked the rom com, of course.  Not even remotely his speed.  Still, he wasn’t here to watch movies; he was here to spend time with Chrissy.  They could spend the next several hours staring at the blank TV screen, and he’d still be enraptured by the dark reflection of the two of them together on the black glass.

He watched the movie, only half-paying attention to the plot of two scientists experimenting with a magic love potion.  His leg jittered restlessly from his spot on the opposite end of the couch from Chrissy.  She made no move to get closer to him, and he made no move to get closer to her.

Chewing on his inner cheek, he fidgeted with one of his rings.  Jesus Christ, why was he being such a basket case about this?  They already fucked.  He’d buried his face in her pussy multiple times, and jizzed all over her chest after basically dragging her to a supply closet like a caveman in front of the guys.  And hell, they used to watch movies platonically all the time, those last few months of high school.  He hadn’t been nervous back then.  What made it so damn terrifying now?

Chrissy moved to get up, making a pained grunt as she did.  “You alright?” Eddie asked.

She nodded.  “Just need to refill my hot water bottle.  It’s gone cold,” she explained.

He held out his hand for it.  “Here, let me do it.”

Her cramps must’ve been painful as hell, because she didn’t put up a fight.  She just handed the bottle over with a relieved sigh, before curling up on her side with her arms around her middle.

“My poor girl,” he murmured, stroking the tangled mess of her hair before crossing the four steps to the kitchenette.

It took nearly three whole minutes for the tap to run hot enough to fill the bottle.   By the time he got back to the couch, Chrissy had scooched over to the middle of the couch.  No matter where Eddie sat, she’d be in easy reach.

Even he couldn’t misread a signal like that.  Plopping himself down next to her, he handed her the water bottle and draped his arm over the back of the couch in clear invitation.  Chrissy took it without hesitation.  Sliding in closer, she nestled into his side, tucking her head on his shoulder.  Eddie wrapped his arm around her and tugged her closer, relishing her happy sigh.

They stayed like that for another thirty minutes, and honestly, Eddie didn’t absorb a single damn detail of the movie.  He was too preoccupied with the feel of Chrissy’s warm curves against his side, her hair tickling his throat, the sound of her breathing and her rapt attention to the movie.

It was only when the movie’s hero went back to the fortune teller that he started paying attention.  Apparently some evil dude had gotten a hold of the love potion, and used it on Sandra Bullock’s character.  The only way to undo the damage was for both the hero and his girl to take another potion, a different potion: one that would negate the effects of the first one.

“Love Potion Number Nine does not create emotion; it purifies it.  Love is often obscured by doubt or prejudice or suspicion,” the old fortune-teller said in the candlelit room where she peddled her wares.  “With Number Nine… all that is eliminated.  With Love Potion Number Nine, that love never fades.”  She smiled mysteriously at the blond man sitting opposite her at her table.  “So!  If you ever loved each other, and you both take this potion, you will love each other again, as much as you ever loved each other.  Forever.”

That sounded pretty good to Eddie.  Honestly, the whole concept of a love potion sort of creeped him out.  Reminded him too much of his days dealing in Hawkins, of having idiot jocks approach him in secret to ask for something to make their girlfriends put out.  Business wasn’t so booming that he could afford to tell those guys exactly where they could cram their money, so he’d simply told them that he couldn’t get his hands on the shit they wanted.

But a potion that took what was already there, and got rid of all the bullshit standing in the way?  That appealed to Eddie.  Hell, if he still DMed as often as he used to, he’d find a way to work such a potion into a future campaign.

And if a potion like that got rid of all his self-doubts, all of Chrissy’s fear of her parents… man.  He’d kill for a potion like that.

On the TV screen, the blond hero reached for the tiny vial of potion… only for the old woman to clap her hand over his.  Her voice took on a hard edge.  “Are you absolutely sure she was in love with you?”  The man answered in the uncertain affirmative, and asked why.  “If you both take this potion,” she continued, “and you are in love with her but she never really was in love with you… you will love her for the rest of your life.  And she will hate you for the rest of hers.”

Jesus Christ.  Eddie didn’t realize that chick flicks could be so hardcore.  When he picked the movie out, he figured, ha ha, guy finds a love potion, becomes irresistible to woman, hijinks ensue, and he gets the girl.  He didn’t realize that the guy would have to risk a total fucking lifetime of emotional devastation in order to earn his happily ever after.  Jesus.  There wasn’t a force on this earth that could make Eddie put everything on the line like that.

Unbidden, Wayne’s words from last weekend popped into his head.  Don’t play it too safe, Ed. 

Okay.  Sure.  Probably not horrible, as far as advice went.  But how safe was too safe?  Did he take things slow, let Chrissy set the pace?  Or was she waiting for him to make a move?  To take the next step from kinky friends with benefits to something more?  Did she even want that?  

Fuck, why did this have to be so complicated?

Risking a glance down at her, he was surprised to see that she was already looking up at him.  Her longing eyes pulled at his, and her plump, pink lower lip was caught between her teeth.  And suddenly, leaning down to kiss her was the simplest thing in the world.

But still terrifying.  Sure, they’d kissed before, both during and after a scene.  But this was different.  With sex off the table for today, there was no reason for him to kiss her.  More importantly, there was no reason for her to kiss him.  Not unless she wanted to.

When his lips covered hers, she hummed happily, and not even he could misunderstand that.  She wanted this.  Holy fuck, she really wanted this.  Cupping the delicate line of her jaw in his hand, he plucked slowly but insistently at her lips with his own.

The first time he kissed Chrissy, it was an urgent, heat-of-the-moment thing.  The second time, it was a comfort in the aftermath of a scene he hadn’t been ready for - tender, chaste, and unhurried.  This kiss was somewhere between the two.  It was slow and languid, but utterly intoxicating.  The taste of her lips on his, the warmth of her skin, the way her little fingers wound through his hair, sending tingles along his scalp - all of it made his blood flow like warm, sweet caramel in his veins, singing beneath his skin before heading further south.

Eventually, he had to pull back, chuckling at Chrissy’s disappointed pout.  “Sorry, sweetness.  Getting a crick in my neck,” he explained, rubbing at a sore muscle at the base of his skull.

“How about this, then?” Chrissy asked, her voice husky as she threw one leg over his, moving to straddle him.  One dainty finger pulled insistently at his kiss-swollen lower lip, coaxing him to open for her.  And who the hell was he to deny her?  “Yes,” she hissed, before leaning down to devour him. 

As her tongue tangled with his, Eddie did his best to remember that Chrissy wasn’t in the mood today.  But it was so hard.  He was so hard, and Chrissy was absolutely plastered to his front.  She had to be able to feel him pressed against her belly.  If she concentrated, she could probably feel the throb of his pulse through his sweatpants.  

But he didn’t come here to scam his way into her pants.  So instead of gripping her hips and pulling her insistently down on his aching cock like he really wanted to do, he fisted his hands in the soft material of her sweater, his blunt fingernails scraping her back through the chunky knit as he scrabbled for the last vestiges of his self-control.  

But nothing could stop the slow, languid roll of his hips against hers.  His body knew what it wanted, and right now, it wanted to drown in the ocean of sensation that was Chrissy Cunningham.  Not just fucking.  He wanted lazy mornings and trips to the grocery store and how-was-your-days and yeah, he wanted to make out for making out’s sake.

It’d been a hot minute since he’d made out and dry humped on the couch like some horny teenager.  But with Chrissy in his lap, murmuring her pleasure into his mouth, that was exactly what he felt like: a teenager, with all of life’s possibilities at his fingertips, if he just had the balls to reach for them.  Kissing Chrissy Cunningham, he felt boundless, limitless, free.  

He should’ve kissed her that first night at the party, he thought hazily as he sucked her tongue into his mouth.  He should’ve kissed her that first night, or graduation night in Hawkins when he’d said his goodbyes, or that day at the picnic table in the woods, or hell, all the way back at the middle school talent show when he’d fallen head over heels for the cute cheerleader with shy smile and the perfect ponytail.

This wasn’t about sex, he knew.  Sure, his dick was hard enough to shatter diamonds, but he’d spend the rest of his life in chastity if it meant he got to keep kissing Chrissy - if he could never stop kissing Chrissy.

She must’ve heard his thoughts, because she tore her lips from his.  “We - we have to stop,” she whined, her hands pulling him closer as he rained devoted kisses down the column of her throat.

His brain, sluggish from having its drug of choice ripped so unceremoniously away, took a few seconds to catch up.  Dimly, he realized that the apartment had gone silent.  Glancing over Chrissy’s shoulder, he saw that the TV screen was a blank blue.  They must’ve made out right through the movie’s ending and the credits.  Jesus.

“Okay,” he mumbled, unable to stop himself from pressing one last kiss to the sensitive spot just under her ear.  “Okay, baby, yeah, we’ll stop.”  He buried his face in the side of her neck, breathing in the sweet, warm fragrance of her.  It helped drag his brain back to real life even as it sent another bolt of want through him.

Chrissy climbed off him and sat down next to him with a plunk.  Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips pressed in a thin, bloodless line.  Her hands were clenched into fists on either side of her thighs.

Shit.  Eddie rubbed nervously at his mouth.  He knew he shouldn’t have kissed her.  Yeah, she wanted it - he was sure of it - but he pushed things too far.  Now she was pissed at him.

He turned to her, an apology on the tip of his tongue… and looked closer.  Her cheeks were flushed the same pretty pink they got whenever she was turned on, and her breath came in quick, shallow gasps.  Most telling of all, her thighs were rubbing restlessly together.  

She wasn’t angry with him, he realized with a start.  She was horny.  Horny and frustrated.  

But she said no sex, and he wasn’t about to push that.  Still, he couldn’t just leave her like this.

“Chrissy.  Baby.  What do you need?” he asked, his eyes glued to her to pick up her every minute reaction.

She huffed in frustration.  “It doesn’t matter what I need, because we can’t do anything about it,” she snarled.

Eddie chewed thoughtfully at the inside of his cheek.  She said “can’t.”  Not “I don’t want to” or “shouldn’t,” but “can’t.”  

Eddie had never had sex with a woman while she was on her period.  In his experience, women weren’t in the mood when they weren’t feeling good.  Which was totally fine!  He wasn’t the type to push that shit when he had a perfectly good right hand to take care of his own needs.

But that didn’t seem to be the case here.  Not wanting to stick his foot in his mouth by saying so, he opted for a question instead.  “Why can’t we?”

“You know why, Eddie,” she said with barely leashed impatience.   “You don’t need me to spell it out for you.”

“Pretend I do.  Pretend it took me three tries to finish up high school, and I need things spelled out reeeeal slow,” he joked.  “Seriously though.  Tell me what’s up.”

“We can’t have sex because it’s gross!” she cried.  Even bowing her head low to stare at her clenched hands didn’t hide the hot, humiliated blush from Eddie’s gaze.

And there it was: the crux of the issue.  “Technically, all sex is gross, if you think about it.  I mean, whose idea was it to install the playground right next door to the sewer, am I right?” he asked with a grin, inviting her to laugh along.  She offered him a wan, half-hearted smile.  He quickly changed tacks.  “Let me ask you something: when you say sex on your period is gross… do you think it’s gross?  Or do you think I think it’s gross?”

He could tell by the bunch of her shoulders that he’d hit a bullseye.  “I mean… it is gross, isn’t it?  Every guy I’ve tried to talk into it said it was gross.”  She shrugged.  “Normally I take care of it myself, but… well, I couldn’t bring my, um, my toys through customs, and I haven’t had a chance to get new ones, and… and my fingers aren’t enough when I’m…  Oh god, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.  Forget I said anything,” she moaned, burying her face in her hands.

Next to her, Eddie’s brain was on the verge of going into meltdown.  His mind grabbed onto one word and held on, like a feral dog chomping on a bone: toys.  Chrissy used toys.  Chrissy needed toys.  Already, he was considering some of the nicer sex shops LA had to offer. The thought of taking her to one of those shops and spoiling her rotten had his hands shaking in anticipation.  The only thing better would be taking her home so they could play with every.  Last.  One.

But for now, his girl needed reassurance.  Pivoting to face her, he took her wrists in his hands, encouraging her to lower her hands from his face.  “Hey.  We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.  If you’re really not into it, that’s cool.  We can hang out, smoke weed, throw on another movie, and I promise I’ll behave myself.”  He licked his lips.  “But, uh, in the interest of honesty?  The thought of fucking you on your period is… actually kinda hot.”

She shook her head.  “You’re just saying that.”  But he didn’t miss the way her pupils blew out, or the way her lips curled into a shy, hopeful smile.

He scoffed.  “Are you kidding?  Blood and sex all wrapped into one?  Most metal thing ever.”

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous,” she said with a roll of her eyes.  Then, her teeth sank nervously into her lower lip.  “Okay.  But if you don’t like it…”

Jesus.  She was really worried she was going to force something on him that he didn’t like, wasn’t she?  As a Dom, he could relate.  The line between “hurts so good” and “hurts too much” could be thin as a razor’s edge sometimes.  As much as he liked doling out pleasure in the form of pain, the thought of actually hurting a submissive turned his stomach.

Fortunately, years of being on both sides of the game had taught him a few tricks.  “Tell you what,” he said, “if I’m not into it, my safeword is Powerslave.  Cool?”

Honestly, he doubted he’d need it.  Sure, period sex was a new one for him, but he wasn’t lying when he said the idea was kinda hot.  Worst case, if it wasn’t his thing, they’d know for next time.

“Cool,” she agreed.  And in a heartbeat she was back in his lap, winding her arms around his neck and toying with his hair.  “So where were we?” she purred.

Eddie wasted no time, grabbing her hips to pull her closer.  “I think we were right about here,” he said, capturing her lips with his.

He kissed her slow, deep, and sweet, pouring every bit of longing and adoration into her until she had to feel it.  

But Chrissy had other ideas.  It wasn’t long before her hands were under his shirt, roving his skin like twin cartographers determined to map every inch of territory they found.  Rucking the fabric up to his armpits, she raked her nails over his chest, leaving trails of fire over his skin.  

Eddie’s head fell back against the couch.  “Fuck yeah, baby, mark me up,” he panted, unable to stop his hips from jerking upward when she did it again.  “I dunno what’s got into you, but I’m fuckin’ into it.”  If this was what she was like every time she had her period, Eddie wouldn’t mind putting himself at her disposal every month.  Hell, he just might insist on it.

Eddie tried to take things slow.  Really, he did.  But Chrissy didn’t want any of that.  She ground herself insistently into his lap, growling and nipping hard at his lower lip when he tried to his his grip on her hips to slow her down.

“Don’t tease,” she mumbled into his mouth.  “Need you so bad.”

Eddie bit down on his tongue, hard.  He knew Chrissy just meant that she was horny.  But nothing - nothing - got to him like being needed.  So much of what he did in life was to be needed.  He wanted - fuck it, he yearned for Chrissy to need him, not for the sex or the pampering, but just for him.  If she could ever need him for him - just the way he needed her - it’d be a dream come true.

Well.  Maybe that idea wasn’t as far-fetched as he thought.  But things were so new and fragile between them, and he was excruciatingly aware that he could be off-puttingly direct sometimes.  Last thing in the world he wanted was to fuck things up by pushing too hard.  Best that he kept his trap shut for now.

For now, he’d focus on taking care of her immediate needs.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, reaching under her sweater to cup her sweet tits.  Her nipples were furled into hard little tips against his palms.  Grasping the silver bars of her piercings between his thumbs and forefingers,he gave them a firm tug, chuckling when she whimpered.  “Tell Daddy what you need, little girl.”

To his surprise, she shook her head.  “No, don’t.  Just be you.”

Oh god.  He wasn’t prepared for just what that would do to him.  When was the last time he’d had sex without playing a role?  He couldn’t even remember.

To distract them both from his suddenly misty eyes, he stripped her sweater off of her.  Chrissy took advantage of the moment to push his T-shirt up over his head.  Dipping his head low, Eddie latched onto Chrissy’s nipple, nibbling with his teeth before soothing the sting with his tongue.  Chrissy’s fingers plunged into his hair, holding him in place before tugging and leading him to her neglected breast.  He happily went exactly where she guided him, giving equal attention to both her breasts.

“Eddie,” she she grunted.  “Eddie, touch me.  Touch me now.”

Fuck.  Fuck, fuck, fuck, he never in a million years would’ve imagined that Chrissy, Chrissy fucking Cunningham, would have a dominant streak, but there it was, steel lurking under the sweetness of her voice, and god damn, was it doing it for him.  

“As you wish,” he retorted, the small part of his brain that wasn’t utterly fucking fried drifting to a certain movie in the stack of tapes he’d rented.

Then his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her pajama pants, inside her panties, past the crinkle of her pad.  The second his fingers delved into her slit, all thoughts fled his brain except for one’s like hot, and wet, and something staticky that he suspected was his brain short-circuiting.

The hands in his hair tugged him up for another tonguing kiss - one he was happy to give.  

When his fingers brushed against her clit, Chrissy tore her lips away from his.  “In me.  Put them in me.”

He slid two fingers into her tight, welcoming cunt.  Already, he could feel the first flutters of her impending orgasm.  Jesus.  Jesus Christ.  She was so keyed up, getting her off was almost too easy.

“Poor thing.  Those little fingers of yours can’t fill you up the way you need, can they?” he crooned as she rode his hand urgently.  

“Uh-uh,” she moaned, her mind beyond words.

“That’s okay.  I’ll fill you up good.  Much as you need.  First my fingers, then my cock.  Take care of this pretty pussy ‘til it’s nice and sleepy.  How’s that sound?”

“I - I want that, Eddie, want it so much,” Chrissy whined, burying her face in the side of his neck.  “Want it all, want - want everything - “

“Then you’ve gotta cum for me, princess,” he said.  “Can you do that?  Cum hard around my fingers?”  He felt her nod against his neck.  Twisting his hand, he pressed the heel of his palm toward the top of her slit so she could grind her clit against it.  “Do it.  Do it now.”

Three things happened all at once.  Chrissy’s cunt clamped on his fingers, her teeth sank into the junction of Eddie’s neck and shoulder, and her hands pulled on his hair hard enough to make his eyes water.  The pain had him throbbing in his sweatpants.  His panting breaths mixed with Chrissy’s muffled cries as she rode out her orgasm.

Pulling his hand from her pajama pants, Eddie eyed his hand speculatively.  His fingers were coated with her juices - normally slick and creamy, now a deep, garnet red.  It dropped down his fingers and over his thick silver rings.  The effect was striking, and oddly hot.

But there was one problem: what was he supposed to do with it?  If he wiped it on his sweats, it’d show up on the walk home - something he wasn’t exactly looking to advertise.  If he were at home, he’d just wipe his hands on his sheets.  Who gave a shit if it stained?  But he wasn’t gonna do that to Chrissy’s couch.  The only other alternative was to get up and wash his hands.  But the idea of dislodging Chrissy from his lap was intolerable.

So he did the only other thing he could think of: he popped them in his mouth and sucked them clean.  If he had any reservations about this whole thing, they were gone the moment her flavor burst across his taste buds.  It tasted like Chrissy, but… more.  There was a metallic tang, and under that, her musk was… raw.  Animalistic.  Primal.  

One taste and he was hooked.

“Eddie?  What are you - oh.”  Chrissy’s face went nearly cherry-red when she saw what he was doing.  “You… you…”

He pulled his fingers from his mouth with an audible pop.  “I dunno what other guys you’ve been with, princess, but they’re morons.”  He grinned.  “Like I said: most metal ever.”

She moaned quietly.  “You - you didn’t enjoy that.  You couldn’t.”

“Oh yeah?”  Taking her hand in his, he guided it to where he was still hard and aching for her.  “What about that, princess?  That feel like I’m not into this?”

Her fingers wrapped around his length, giving him a stroke through his pants.  “Show me,” she said, her pupils blown out with desire.  “Fuck me, Eddie.  Show me how much you want me.  I want you in me so deep I can taste it.”

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie muttered.  Chrissy talking dirty to him was definitely a turn-on.

Somehow, the two of them managed to get their pants off.  And then Chrissy was straddling him again.  Splitting her nether lips apart, she rode up and down his length.  Eddie could feel the head of his cock nudging against her clit.

He stared at the sight, spellbound.  Her blood and slick juices painted the underside of his dick a striking shade of crimson that burned itself behind his eyes.

“Gonna cum on me, Chrissy?  Huh?  You gonna cum on my cock?” he asked lowly.

She shook her head.  “I need you in me.  I feel so empty, Eddie.”  

She rose higher, so she was on her knees, the tip of him pressing to her waiting entrance.  And fuck, she felt so good!  He could feel every detail: the heat of her, her wetness, the way the muscles of her cunt fluttered as they clenched around nothing.

With a jolt of alarm, he realized: he could feel too much.  

He wasn’t wearing a condom.

He took her hips in an iron grip.  “Shit - wait - Chrissy, we - we need - I didn’t bring - “

“I’m on the pill,” she interrupted.  “I started a week ago, so… if you want…”

“Oh my god,” Eddie muttered.

“Or I have condoms in the bathroom, if you’re worried,” she continued.  

He wasn’t.  They’d both been tested since their last partners; they’d talked about it on the phone once.  So he wasn’t worried about that.

Still, there was something he needed to tell her.  Something he wanted her to know.

Nervously, he licked his lips.  “I’ve never done it without one before,” he admitted.

“Neither have I.  I’ve never really wanted to before, but now it just… it feels right.”  She hesitated.  “But if you don’t want to…”

“Oh, I do,” he assured her.

Eddie held his breath, eyes locked with Chrissy as she poised over him.  His heart hammered in his chest.  The air was heavy with anticipation and need.  

Chrissy wasn’t his first; far from it.  And he wasn’t her first, either.  His first fuck was backstage at The Hideout; hers was in Carver’s backseat at the quarry.  But this was a first, for both of them.  Born of intimacy and trust, one neither of them had shared with anyone else.

Chrissy lowered herself slowly down on him, enveloping him from root to tip in her tight, welcoming cunt.  Down, down, down she sank, until he could feel himself pressing deep into the heart of her.  Everything was warm, and wet, and wonderful.

Eddie’s arms wrapped around Chrissy’s back, pulling her closer.  “Oh my god.  Oh my god.  Chrissy, oh my fucking god.”

“Eddie,” Chrissy breathed, voice whisper-soft and agonizingly sweet.  Her hips started to move.  “Eddie.  Eddie.  Eddie.”

His heart ached hearing his name pouring from her mouth.  He wanted to hear nothing else for the rest of his life.  Conversely, he needed to kiss her right this second.

He craned his neck, seeking her lips with his, sucking a surprised breath through his nose when she met him halfway.  Lips locked together, they moved together as one - first slowly, then with increasing fervor.  Soon, she was writhing against him with abandon, moaning into his mouth.

Eventually, she was riding him so hard that the seal of their lips broke.  Chrissy threw her head back as she chased her pleasure.  Her coppery hair had tumbled out of its elastic, cascading down around her shoulders and sticking to her rosy, sweaty cheeks.  Her lips were pink and kiss-swollen, her gray irises nearly eclipsed by her blown out pupils.  With her hands fisted in his hair, pulling his head back, he was helpless to look away from her perfect face.  Even if the sweet pain in his scalp didn’t hold him in place, he could never tear his gaze from the vision of this woman, this queen, this goddess who, in her infinite generosity, allowed him to see her in the heights of her pleasure.

“That’s it,” he gasped, his hips snapping up every time hers slammed down.  “Yeah, Chrissy, that’s it.  Take what you need.  Wanna see you get off again, baby, just for me.  Can I?  Can I see it again?  Wanna see it so bad, Chrissy, please.”

He was begging, fuck, he was begging, his mouth spewing the words out with no input from his brain.  But Chrissy seemed to like it, thank god, because she gripped his hair like reins and rode him for all she was worth.  

Leaning forward, she nipped at his earlobe before soothing the sting with her tongue.  “Cum for me, Eddie,” she whispered in his ear.  “Give it all to me, every drop.  Put it in me deep, sweetie.”

Sweetie.  Fuckin’ sweetie.  Eddie wasn’t sure what it was about that nickname that made his self-restraint boil over.  All he knew was, hearing it whispered in his ear in that sweet voice had him coming inside her in hot spurts.  She held him as his hips rocked erratically into her, stroking him soothingly through the trembles and quakes of his climax.  All through it, she planted sweet whispers in his ear, his jaw, his cheek: how good he was, how she loved it when he filled her up.

Eventually, once he was pretty sure his brain wasn’t leaking out his ears, a troubling thought occurred to him.  “Did… did you finish?”

She shook her head.  “No, but that’s okay.  You got me off before, remember?”

True, he had.  But given how frustrated she was earlier, fingering her to a single orgasm didn’t seem like enough.  He’d thought he could outlast her; he hadn’t counted on Chrissy taking charge, or how it would go right to his head.

He also couldn’t forget just how fucking good she tasted on his fingers.  He wanted to drink straight from her chalice.

“Please, Miss,” he said, hissing when her tight channel spasmed around his sensitive, softening length.  He licked his lips significantly, not missing the way her eyes darkened.  “Please, let me do it for you.  I want to, please.”

Her head cocked curiously to one side as her lower lip was snagged between her teeth.  “Okay,” she said, climbing off of him.

The second he slipped out of her, Eddie’s gaze was drawn to his lap.  He was smeared from his navel to his upper thighs in the slick, viscous blend of her blood and juices.  It even trickled down his balls, seeped between the cheeks of his ass.  He shivered at the sensation.

Not one to get squeamish at the sight of blood, Eddie was taken by the sight of it.  This… was weirdly breathtaking.  The softening line of his dick, the matting of his hair, the way the red spread over his lap from the movements of her inner thighs - it was artwork.  He admired it with the same morbid fascination he had when he watched the needle bite into his skin any time he got a new tattoo.

He was marked, dyed, painted in her color.  And he fucking loved it.  But he wasn’t satisfied.  Oh, no.  He wouldn’t be happy until she’d done the same to his fucking face.

Soon, he was on his knees on the floor.  Before him, Chrissy lay with her upper torso on the couch’s seat cushion, her ass dangling off the edge to save the upholstery from the mess.  Eddie held it securely in his hands.  Chrissy spread her legs wide, and he just stared.

Like him, she was smeared crimson all down her inner thighs.  And her pussy, her pussy was open and glistening, like a flower on a warm spring day.  The scent of her was so potent, raw and primal and mouth-watering, that he could practically taste her in the air.  

And there, at the center, a single drop of white in a sea of red.  He’d put that there.  Fuck.  Fuck.

“Are you…”  Chrissy’s voice snapped him out of his trance.  Looking up, he saw that her gray eyes were wide with trepidation.  “Are you sure?”

He shot her a reassuring grin.  “Baby, I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

And before she could give in to self-doubt, he dove in.

Eddie knew how to eat pussy.  He prided himself on his skill with his tongue, his ability to read a woman’s cues to know when to ease up and when to go harder, when to linger and when to move on.

All of that went right out the window the second he got his mouth on her.  One taste of her would never, could never be enough.  Especially when under the salty sweetness of her musk, he could taste the earthiness of his cum, the cum he’d given her, the cum she’d asked for.  He mashed his face into her: slurping, sucking, moaning into her like a dying man.  

He loved it.  He fucking loved it.  And if the way Chrissy clutched him closer was any clue, she was as into it as he was.

It didn’t take long before she was at the precipice, her thighs quaking on either side of his head.

“Right there, right there, right there, give it to me, give it - oh god, I’m, I’m - “  Her words were cut off with a choked cry as she released in his mouth with a gush of fluid.

Eddie eased her through it, gentling his mouth against her until she eventually stilled against him.  The urge flitted through his mind to lick her clean from thighs to navel with broad strokes of his tongue, like some overgrown housecat.  After a moment, he decided that maybe that was a little too weird.

Ah well.  Maybe next time.

Chrissy’s fingers stroked through his hair.  “Mmm, Eddie, that was…”

He lifted his head to look at her.  “Good?”

Instead of singing praises to his godlike sexual prowess, Chrissy burst out laughing.  “Oh my god, Eddie, your face!  It’s everywhere!”

He grinned, aware that he could feel her fluids sticking to his cheeks.  “Yeah?  Does it look badass?”

“It’s in your hair.  You need to wash it off!” she cackled.

He swiped at his cheeks, dislodging a few strands of his hair stuck to them.  “I dunno, maybe this is a whole look for me.  Where’s that Polaroid?  Maybe our makeup crew can reproduce the look for our next tour.”

“You’re ridiculous.  And you’re not going onstage with my period blood on your face!  Real or fake!”

“Fine, fine,” he relented, “on one condition.”  Leaning forward, he pressed his lips together in an exaggerated pucker.  “Give us a kiss!”

With a shriek, Chrissy braced her foot against his shoulder and shoved him backwards.  Eddie fell on his ass with a thump.  She was on her feet before he could recover, running naked through her tiny apartment toward the only other room: the bathroom.

Admittedly, Eddie’s recovery time may have been slowed somewhat when he took a moment to admire the jiggle of her butt as she ran.

“You can run, but you can’t hide, Cunningham!” he yelled before he gave chase.

An hour later, the two of them were curled up together on the fold-out bed, watching The Princess Bride.  Their hair was damp, still drying after their shared shower.  Chrissy’s stall shower was tiny and cramped, but there was just enough room for them to wash each other with Chrissy’s body wash before Eddie fingered her to one last orgasm.

On the TV, Princess Buttercup was just shoving the Dread Pirate Roberts down a hill when Eddie spoke up, drowning out his long, drawn-out declaration of “as you wish.”

“So… what happened earlier.  Was that okay?” he asked.

Chrissy rolled onto her side so she could look at him.  Unlike Eddie, who had chosen to stay butt-ass naked after their shower, Chrissy was forced to put on a pair of panties so she could wear a pad.

“Which part?” she asked.

“Oh, y’know, all of it,” he said evasively. When she just gave him a silent, patient look, he sighed.  “Okay, okay.  The, uh, the bit where I sort of went submissive?  We never really talked about doing that.”

“True.”  To her credit, she didn’t rush to reassure him.  Her eyes got a faraway look as she gave serious thought to the matter. Eddie couldn’t say he was thrilled to be kept anxiously waiting for her answer, but it beat rushing through it.  “I mean, you’ve mentioned a few times now that you like to switch, sometimes.  So this wasn’t exactly a shock.”

“True.”

“I’ll be honest: I really didn’t think it was gonna do anything for me.  I figured… you know… you’d have me for when you wanted to be dominant, and someone else for when you wanted to be submissive.”  

The thought of submitting himself to someone who wasn’t Chrissy - not just fucking, but making himself vulnerable, metaphorically cracking open his rib cage and letting someone else poke around at his frail insides - made him want to hurl.  

“Is that what you want?” he forced himself to ask.  “You want me to find someone else for when I want that?”

She shook her head emphatically.  “No!  No, I don’t.  But I thought… if you have needs, needs that I can’t fulfill, I don’t want you to… to do without, just for me.”

“I don’t - “

“But,” Chrissy went on, interrupting his protest before it could even begin, “when you… when you begged me, it was… I didn’t expect it to be so…”  She trailed off, blushing.  “Anyway.  I wouldn’t want to do it all the time… and I really don’t know *how* I want to do it… but yeah.  I’d like to do it again.”

Eddie shook his head in wonder.  “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Chrissy Cunningham, you are a dream come true.”  She beamed at him, and he grinned in return.  “And, uh, since we’re being honest and all, let me just throw this out there: I’m really not looking to see anybody else.  If there’s something I want that you’re not cool with, we’ll either figure something out, or I’ll do without.”

“Really?”  

Her face was alight with hope, tentative and fragile.  It inspired a similar feeling in him.  

“Really,” he confirmed.  “I’m not into dating multiple people at once.  More of a one person at a time kinda guy.”

It wouldn’t win him any prizes, as far as heartfelt confessions went.  Not when what he really wanted to say was that there had been nobody else for him, not a single one - emotionally, anyway - since the day they’d met.  He’d been a goner since the eighth fucking grade.

“I am, too.  A one person sort of girl, I mean,” she admitted.  She chewed at her lower lip, picking at a loose thread on her sage green sheet.  “So… what does this mean for us?  Are we… are we dating, or…?”

Eddie’s heart sped up in his chest.  He knew what he wanted to say.  It meant that they were a couple, an item, a thing.  Eddie and Chrissy.  It meant dates and whole days spent in bed cuddling and fucking.  It meant songs dedicated to her, and one day, packing her stuff up, bringing it to his place, and redecorating because there was no way she was gonna wanna live in his bachelor pad.

It meant a decade and a half of dreams come true: fantasies of I love yous and ring shopping and making an idiot of himself getting down on one knee to ask a terrifying question.

It meant the beginning to everything he’d ever wanted.

If only he had the balls to tell her any of that.

“It means whatever you want it to,” he said with forced nonchalance, not meeting her eyes.  “Dating, friends with benefits - whatever you want.”

Coward.  He might’ve skipped gym class throughout high school, but that didn’t mean he had to leave the ball in her court every time.

Still.  It beat the alternative of handing her his heart on a silver platter and having it be rejected.

“Well… what if… I mean…”  Squeezing her eyes shut, Chrissy took a deep, shaky breath.  “Do you wanna stay here tonight?  With me?”  She flushed prettily.  “I mean, obviously with me, I’m not going anywhere, I just thought - “

“Chrissy,” Eddie interrupted, grinning at her obvious show of nerves.  Nerves were good.  Nerves meant that Chrissy was anxious.  If Chrissy was anxious, it could only mean one thing: his answer mattered to her.  It was easy to be brave when armed with the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one with something to lose.  “I can stay.”

“Good!  I mean… good.”  

Chrissy scooched a few inches closer, so they were almost touching.  Emboldened by her advance, Eddie wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer.  The two of them relaxed into each other, settling into an easy, companionable silence as they returned their attention to the movie.  

At least, until a gigantic rat-puppet lunged at a sand-encrusted Cary Elwes.

“Gah!  What the hell did I miss?” Chrissy demanded, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the Rodent of Unusual Size.

Eddie snickered.  “I’ll rewind it,” he offered, reaching for the VCR remote.

Chapter Text

Chrissy put on the finishing touches to her makeup, checking her reflection one last time in the mirror.  Blue eyeshadow?  Check.  Pastel pink lip gloss?  Check.  Hair pulled into a ponytail?  Check.  Gold charm necklace?  Check.  Dressed the way she was, she looked almost exactly like she had in her senior year of high school, eight years ago.

Well… there were some differences.  She’d grown out her bangs, for one thing, and the pendant on her gold necklace wasn’t her graduating year; it was a tiny golden “aum” symbol, a souvenir from her time spent in the ashrams of India.  More than that, she had changed.  There was a roundness to her cheeks that hadn’t been there back then - a roundness that, some days, she had to talk herself into loving.  Her face held more happiness, and maybe a little more wisdom, too.  

Anyway, she looked almost the way she had in high school.  She hadn’t worn eyeshadow in years, but she’d found some in the right shade of blue at the local drugstore.  And a secondhand shop had carried the curling iron that made her hair fall in that one perfect ringlet from the scrunchy that help it in place.  That same shop was where she’d found the outfit that was her inspiration for this idea of hers.

See, she’d had this fantasy, ever since the second half of senior year.  Back when she was still under her mother’s thumb and wrapped around Jason’s finger all at once.  Eddie was so kind to her, and so forbidden.  More importantly, he was… everything.  He was an uninhibited laugh and a rebel attitude surrounded by the illicit smell of weed smoke.  He was a mask of brash rebellion covering the quiet determination to make something of himself, to prove all the doubters and naysayers wrong and flip them the bird while he did.

Eddie Munson wasn’t just free; he was freedom.  And that was everything Chrissy wanted.

But she’d been too small and meek back then to ever admit what she wanted, even to herself.  That wasn’t the case anymore.  Now she was free to live her life how she wanted.

And she had Eddie now.  Eddie, who took care of her even when she was bloated, cranky, and in pain.  Eddie, who’d spent an hour or more on the phone with her every night since, just to talk about his day and ask her about hers.  Eddie, who she was pretty sure would walk over hot coals to help make all her dreams come true.

Anyway, there weren’t any hot coals involved in this particular fantasy.  If everything went well, he’d enjoy it just as much as she did.  So while the lacy yellow tank top and denim cutoff shorts she wore weren’t anything special, the outfit currently neatly folded in the paper shopping bag by the door was.

God, she hoped he liked it.  If he didn’t, she’d be utterly humiliated.

Once she was just about ready to head out the door, Chrissy took a peek out the window.  The sky was dreary and overcast, and a brisk wind was blowing.  Better grab a jacket.  Rummaging through her tiny closet, she pulled out a short faux fur jacket in pastel pink and shrugged it on.  With her overnight bag in one hand and the shopping bag containing her surprise in the other, she headed down to meet Eddie in front of her building with ten minutes to spare. 

To her surprise, he was already parked outside and waiting by the time she got downstairs, leaning indolently against the side of his car.  Eddie was never early.  He was either on time or a half hour late, depending on if he wanted to be wherever he was going or not.  But never early.

With a grin, she bounded toward him, throwing herself into his arms.  He caught her with an easy laugh and pulled her in for a kiss that set her heart fluttering in her chest.

As he held her close to him, it struck her belatedly that she could kiss him like this.  All those weeks of tiptoeing around him, wondering if this was just about sex, were for nothing.  They were exclusive.  For all intents and purposes, they were dating.

Granted - she couldn’t get too far ahead of herself.  They might be dating each other, they might have agreed not to see other people, but that didn’t mean they were serious.  Not as serious as she wanted to be.  

But how were they supposed to get to that point?  Chrissy had only ever been in one serious relationship, and she’d had no say in the matter.  Jason had taken her out to a movie (and helped himself to her small popcorn and soda when he noticed she wasn’t eating it), before walking her home.  She’d given him a good night kiss, because - well, because he was good-looking, and knew how to say all the right things.  The next morning, he was draping his letterman jacket over her shoulders.  When she’d asked why, he’d given her a confused look.

“You’re my girlfriend now, babe.  Why wouldn’t you wear my jacket?”

She’d had lovers since then, obviously.  Nothing serious.  A one-night stand or two, a few flings, and one long-term “arrangement” with a Domme who taught her not to settle for anything less than great sex.  The closest she’d come to a relationship was a tourist from New Zealand who thought their casual fling was really a whirlwind romance.  It’d taken her months to finally convince him that “I’m not looking for anything serious” didn’t mean “convince me.”

So, yeah: she had no idea how people went from “casually but exclusively dating” to “going steady.”  Did they even call it that anymore?  All she knew was that she didn’t want to mess this up.  If Eddie needed to take things slow, they’d take it slow.  She’d waited eight years for this.  What was a few more months to tell him how she felt about him?

So, with his arms around her waist and her fingers in her hair, she relaxed against him and just enjoyed the moment.

Eventually, he broke the kiss with a smug, self-satisfied grin.  Leaning down, he pressed his forehead to hers.  “Missed me, did you?”

She scrunched her nose in mock disgust.  Of course he knew she missed him; she’d told him so just last night at around two in the morning. 

“Maybe,” she said.  “Or maybe I just can’t to finally see this surprise you’ve been teasing me with all week.”

He bumped his nose affectionately with hers, making something in her stomach melt into a warm, gooey puddle.  “Ohhh, I see how it is.  No love for poor, lonely, outcast Eddie.  You just want your surprise, is that it?”

She gave his shoulder a gentle shove.  With his arms still around her, anchoring her to him, he didn’t go far.  “Outcast.  Right.  Says the guy whose last album went platinum.  Tell me, do you beat all the horny groupies off with a stick yourself, or do you have a guy who does it for you?”

Internally, she cringed at her own question.  She really didn’t want him to answer.  It wasn’t that she was jealous of his past lovers.  Well, okay, maybe a little.  But just, like… a normal amount. She didn’t begrudge him the men and women he slept with… but that didn’t mean she wanted all the sordid details.

Just then, a terrible, unwelcome thought took up residence in her mind.  Corroded Coffin’s new album was coming out in a few short months.  Already, she saw posters advertising pre-orders in the window of the music shop across the street from work.  

A new album meant a tour, and a tour meant groupies.  Groupies cooler than her, who could actually contribute to the conversation when Eddie went on one of his rants about which Dio album was their best one.  Groupies who were there when she couldn’t be.

Her thoughts wandered back to Hawkins - to high school parties spent watching Jason like a hawk lest he “accidentally” find himself in a bedroom with another girl.  The memory made her sick to her stomach.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, hard.  Eddie wasn’t like that.  She’d more or less given him carte blanche to see another person, and he said he wasn’t interested.

Still.  Tours went on for months, and Eddie was a man with needs.  What if…

“Nah,” Eddie said, oblivious to the dark turn her thoughts had taken.  “I handle all rejections myself.  Gives it that personal touch, you know?”  Chrissy released the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding.  Before she could recover, a sly grin spread across his face.  “Just a sec.  How’d you know our last album went platinum?”

Chrissy’s face went hot.  There was no way she could answer that question.  If he found out that one of the first things she’d done upon returning stateside was to look up every detail she could scrounge up on Corroded Coffin, he’d think she was nuts.  Just because she’d spent the past eight years quietly, resignedly pining for the one who got away didn’t mean he’d done the same.

Hell, he wasn’t even the one who got away.  He was the one she’d never had in the first place.

Hastily, she changed the subject.  “You know, you’re not the only one with a surprise,” she informed him, jiggling the paper shopping bag dangling from her wrist.  

He eyed it with interest.  “Is it a sexy surprise?”

“Be nice to me and I might show it to you.”

“I’m always nice to you,”  he asserted. Still, he let his earlier question drop.  “Fine, fine.”  Relinquishing his hold on her, he opened the passenger door to his car with a sweeping bow.  “Princess, your chariot awaits.” 

With a giggle, she climbed into his car, making sure her arms and legs were clear before he shut the door and loped around to the other side.  Honestly, she didn’t think she’d ever get sick of his over-the-top chivalry.  It was ridiculous, and eccentric, and showy, and sweet - all the things she adored about Eddie.

When they drove, Eddie kept his hand resting on her knee the whole time.  Occasionally he gave it a brief squeeze, prompting a shared smile between the two of them.  His thick rings were cold against her skin, but the palm of his hand was warm, warm, warm.

His touch isn’t inherently sexual.  It’s meant to be comforting, intimate.  Affectionate.  But she couldn’t help the first stirrings of desire between her thighs.

Who could blame her?  Eddie had awakened a hunger in her - one that couldn’t be sated by a single weekly tryst.

Soon, they were pulling up to a small, nondescript shop sporting a black sign with looping, red cursive.

“The Pleasure Chest,” she read aloud, before shooting Eddie a questioning glance.  “My surprise?”

He nodded.  “You mentioned last weekend you didn’t have any toys.  Today we’re gonna rectify that.”  He shot her an absolutely filthy grin.  “We, princess, are going shopping.”

Chrissy’s face flamed.  She clapped her hands over her mouth.  “I can’t believe you remember me telling you that,” she mumbled, her voice muffled behind her fingers.

“What?” he asked innocently.  He leaned in closer, pitching his voice down low.  “You really think I’d forget you telling me how you play with your little pussy when nobody else would take care of it for you?”

“Eddie!” she hissed.  Half the blood in her body lingered in her face, warming her cheeks; the other took a swift detour south, making a sweet ache bloom between her thighs.  

“Not gonna lie; that image might be burned into my brain for life,” he added casually, as if commenting on the weather.

“You… you can’t say things like that when we’re about to go out in public.  What if someone notices?” she demanded.

He snickered.  “We’re about to go into a sex shop.  Pretty sure they know exactly why we’re there,” he remarked.

She eyed the shop dubiously.  “So… all week you’ve been plotting on bringing me here so we can get me some sex toys?”

She chewed her lower lip in apprehension.  She’d never been inside a sex shop before.  Honestly, all of her prior experiences with toys were with mundane items.  Silk scarves could be used as restraints.  A sleep mask made for an excellent blindfold.  Clothes pins were basically the poor woman’s nipple clamps.  And certain catalogues offered vibrating “back massagers” - a listing that fooled no one when they came in sizes of five, seven, or nine inches long.

She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, embarrassment making her lower her head.  To her chagrin, it also made the throbbing in her core that much more insistent.  It was one thing to go to a kink party; everyone there was some sort of depraved, meaning nobody would look at her twice if she acted on her desires.  But submitting herself to the scrutiny of a stranger at a cash register?  Feeling their judgment as they took in all of her most secret desires, scanning them into a cold, unfeeling machine?  The thought made her want to curl up into a ball and disappear.

“Get us some sex toys,” he corrected.  “And if you’re a very good girl, we can go back to my place and play with them.”  

Chrissy nodded mutely.  She could do this.  She was no stranger to pinning a fake smile on her face and submitting herself to the scrutiny of others.  She’d just… thought that part of her life ended the day she’d left Hawkins, that was all.

But Eddie promised to reward her afterward, and that was more than her mother had ever done.  She could do this.  For him.

“Hey.”  Warm, rough fingers touched her chin, encouraging her to look at him.  His face was solemn, his dark eyes wide with concern.  “We don’t have to do this.  You know that, right?  I thought it’d be fun, but if you’re not into it…”

“I’m not not into it,” she hedged.  “I mean… it’s just… there’s gonna be people in there.  People who’ll see.”

He blinked at her.  “And the people who watched you get off on my knee after taking a spanking were… what, robots?  Aliens?”

“No, but…”  She struggled to come up with the words, keenly aware that she was being ridiculous.  Why did this feel so different?  She latched onto the best explanation her jittering mind could fumble for.  “It’s just… the people in there are normal.  It makes me feel… like…”

“A freak?” he supplied.  She nodded.  “Mmkay, well, first off, normal is a societal construct, and a shitty one at that.  Second, people who shop at sex stores probably have their own weird kinks.  And third, who the hell cares what they think?”  

“I do,” she insisted.  Of course she cared what other people thought.  How could she not when so much of her life had centered around how others saw her?

He sighed.  “Look, if it makes you feel any better, the people who work here are cool.  Freaks like us are their bread and butter.  They’re not gonna drive off customers by being weird to people buying the shit they stock.”  He held his hands up in a surrendering gesture.  “But no pressure, you know?  Just say the word and we’ll get out of here.”

“And you won’t… be disappointed?” she asked, hating the hesitance in her voice.  If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was disappointing people.  Her mother’s voice echoed in her head: I’m not angry, Christine, I’m just disappointed.  Of course, that “disappointment” was usually followed by the jab of a pin, a cruel pinch of fingers, and being sent to her room without supper.

She knew Eddie wasn’t like that.  If she asked him to take them away from here, he’d do it no questions asked.  But he’d been so excited to bring her here; all week, he’d mentioned this “surprise” during their nightly phone calls.  The thought of letting him down filled her with dread.

He shrugged carelessly.  “I mean, I’ll be bummed that I don’t get to do this for you,” he admitted, making her cringe.  “But disappointed?  Nah.  We get by just fine without this stuff, don’t you think?  All this stuff is just extras.”

Just extras.  Hearing that put her mind at ease, releasing some of the mounting pressure in her mind.  They could go inside, look at what the shop had in stock.  If Chrissy didn’t feel comfortable, they could walk out the door without buying a thing, and Eddie wouldn’t think less of her for it.

He was giving her every opportunity to say no.  And that gave her the freedom to seize her courage and say yes.

She took a deep, shaky breath.  “Okay,” she said.  “Let’s do it.”

Eddie’s face split into a wide, exuberant grin.  “Yeah?”

Basking in the glow of his approval, she helplessly beamed in return.  “Yeah.”

His arm wrapped around her shoulders, tugging her close so he could press a kiss to her hair.  “There’s my brave girl,” he said, and god, that shouldn’t get to her the way it did, making tears spring to her eyes even while she drenched her panties.

More than anything, she wanted it to be true.  She wanted to be brave, and she wanted to be his girl.

Taking a deep breath, she got out of the car.  Eddie was at her side, escorting her into the building with one hand at the small of her back, just under the hem of her fuzzy pink jacket.  A bell jingled merrily as they stepped inside, announcing their presence.  Chrissy stopped just inside the threshold, taking in the atmosphere.

She’d had certain expectations of what a sex shop would look like.  A seedy-looking place with flickering fluorescent lighting and sticky surfaces she wouldn’t want to inspect to closely.  Or maybe walls painted in a lurid shade of red, with black leather everywhere.  But the Pleasure Chest was clean, warmly lit, and done up tastefully in cream and mauve.  Like any normal store, the shop was broken up into sections.  The very front of the store boasted mannequins and racks of clothing, all full to bursting with costumes and lingerie.  There was a wall rack laden with dildos and vibrators of every size, color, and description.  Next to that was a whole shelving unit dedicated to personal lubricants.  A whole section was dedicated to anal play, featuring plugs as thin as Chrissy’s index finger, all the way up to ones as thick as both her hands clasped together.  There was a whole bondage area with so many items it made Chrissy’s head spin.  Silk ropes and leather cuffs and collars and fuzzy pink handcuffs and spreader bars and all sorts of gags.

And then there was the S&M section.  Chrissy’s mind short-circuited when she saw it.

“Where to first, princess?” Eddie asked, as easily as if they were at the grocery store buying meals for the week.

Face hot, butterflies dancing excitedly in her stomach, Chrissy headed for the safest section: the costumes.  She went through the racks one by one, tongue poking at the inside of her cheek as she bypassed them one by one.  Slutty nurse.  Slutty maid.  Slutty schoolgirl.  Slutty cheerleader.  Slutty cop.  Slutty cat.  Through it all, she watched Eddie out of the corner of her eye, making mental notes of which costumes his gaze lingered on the longest.  The way his breath caught when she eyed the cheerleader costumes, and the way his face fell when she dismissed them, gave her hope that maybe the outfit in the shopping bag in his car wouldn’t be showing her hand too soon.

“Nothing calling out to you?” he asked when she finished perusing the last rack without choosing a single article of clothes.

She shook her head, feeling her perfectly-coiled ponytail bounce lightly when she did.  “No, um, they’re fine, they just…”  She wrinkled her nose.  “They seem kinda porny?”

“Sort of the point, isn’t it?  They’re supposed to be sexy.”

“Sexy, yeah.  This is porny,” she reiterated, pulling out a nurse’s “dress” whose hem fell far short of the model’s panty line, with a corset-style front that gapped from top to bottom.  “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it.  It’s just not… me.  You know?”

He nodded easily, and almost managed to hide the disappointment from his eyes.  “Fair enough.  No costumes.  Where to next?”

“I didn’t say no costumes - just not these ones,” she said.  Going through them again, she lingered here and there on a few that caught her eye.  “But I’ve got a few ideas.  Actually, I, um.  Have a costume waiting in the car.”

“Oh yeah?”  Eddie stepped closer so he was looming over her.  “Is my good girl gonna get all dressed up for me when I get her home?  Show me the pretty outfit she picked out just for me?”

Chrissy reddened, glancing anxiously around the store.  There was a couple perusing the selection of lube, and a man thumbing through the shop’s selection of porno tapes.  Other than that, the only other person in the shop was the one employee, who gave them a friendly wave and a reminder to ask her if they needed anything before she turned away to give them privacy.

“Yes, Daddy,” she said quietly, eyes lowered to the floor.

He hummed thoughtfully.  “Need me to pick out what we check out next?” he asked.  She nodded.  “Okay.  This way,” he said, leading her with a hand at the small of her back toward the display with the dildos and vibrators.  He nudged her forward.  “Pick out something you like.”

She stared at the selection with something like awe.  The one toy she had before returning stateside had been a plain, white cylinder with a tapered end and a dial to control the vibrate function.  Ostensibly, it was supposed to be a back massager, and if anyone had found the nondescript thing in her belongings, she probably could have convinced them that that was exactly what she used it for.  It was subtle.  Understated.  Made to blend in.

These toys… were not.

They came in all shapes and sizes: eggs, bullets, phalluses, ribbed, studded, veined, smooth.  Some were made of plastic, some of latex or silicone, and still others of glass.  They came in every possible shade: flesh tones, jewel tones, pastels, neons.

The choices were overwhelming.  If she took the time to read each of the boxes, she’d be here all day.

“Do we need one?” she asked.  “I like yours.” 

He chuckled.  “I’m attached to it too, princess.  But you should have something to fill that hungry pussy when I’m not around.  Besides, I bet we can think of all sort of uses for an extra, don’t you think?”

Honestly, if Chrissy had her way, Eddie would be at her beck and call whenever she needed him - not just sex, but him.  But that was unrealistic.  For that to happen, they’d basically have to live together.  She wasn’t so delusional that she thought moving together so soon was a good idea.  Even if Eddie went for it, moving so quickly would probably end with them crashing and burning.

She’d waited nearly a decade for him.  What was a little longer?  She could be patient.

Anyway - the idea of using toys with Eddie definitely had a certain appeal.  Already her mind spun out idea after idea of ways they could use them together, making her breath hitch in her throat.  

But she wanted to hear what Eddie had in mind.  Partly to compare notes.  Mostly because she wanted the thrill of teasing them both in public, where neither of them could do a thing about it.

Eddie, it seemed, was happy to oblige.  He backed her into a wall, bracing his hands on either side of her head as he loomed over her.  “Maybe I wanna watch you fuck yourself on it while you suck me off,” he murmured.  “Or maybe the opposite: maybe I wanna see your pretty pink lips wrapped around it while I pound you, see them go all slack and sloppy when I make you cum.”  One hand lowered to wrap around her back, his thick fingers tracing lightly over the cleft of her ass.  “And maybe someday, when I fuck your ass, I’ll push that fake cock up inside you.  Stuff you so full you won’t walk right for a week.”  Chrissy whimpered.  His eyes darkened at the sound, darting down to her lips.  He licked his own.  “Is that what you want, princess?”  She nodded wordlessly.  Reaching up with his free hand - the one not now clenched around her asscheek - he grasped her ponytail and pulled.  His rough treatment sent a frisson of excitement through her.  “I asked you a question, little girl.  Use your words.  Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Daddy.”  The words slipped out of her mouth as naturally as breathing.  

It should have bothered her to be spoken to like that.  After all, it wasn’t that different from how her mother used to talk to her.  I asked you a question, Christine!  For God’s sake, speak clearly; nobody can understand you when you mumble!. Always eager to please, Chrissy did exactly what her mother said, but it was never enough.  If she spoke clearly, then the issue was that she slouched too much.  If she corrected her posture, then her hair and makeup were all wrong.  If she fixed those, then the next target was her weight.  It was an eternal game that was impossible to win; any time Chrissy came close to scoring, her mother would move the goalposts further out of reach.

With Eddie, it wasn’t like that.  If he gave her something to do - a spanking to endure, an embarrassment to overcome - it was for their mutual pleasure.  And he never failed to reward her when she did something right.

Sure enough, he stroked a hand over her cheek, his long fingers curling around the back of her head.  She nuzzled into his touch.  “Good girl.”

Together, the two of them selected two dildos: a soft silicone one with a vibrating function, and a pink and purple glass one with ribbing that spiraled up from the base to the blunt tip.  Next were the anal plugs.  There was a pretty pink glass one that Chrissy was taken with, which had a glass flower that would peek out between her cheeks when inserted.  Eddie gently steered her away from it.

“That one’s not really meant for beginners,” he explained, opting for a set of clear silicone ones varying in size, from the width of his thumb to one even thicker than his cock.  “These have more give to ‘em.  They’re more forgiving when they go in.  Also, see how their tips are more tapered?  That one would be a lot for a first-timer to handle.”  His eyes softened at her moue of disappointment.  “Tell you what: if we can get your tight little ass to take the second-to-largest of these, we’ll come back for this one.”

They got lube to go with the plugs - glycerin-free, at Eddie’s insistence.  When asked why, he flushed red.  “Personal experience,” he mumbled evasively.  “Just… trust me on this one.”

Moving on to the restraints, they picked up some silk scarves, leather wrist and ankle cuffs, an under-the-bed restraint system, a spreader bar, and, at Chrissy’s blushing insistence, several lengths of colored silk rope and a book on shibari.

“It’s something I heard about in India,” she explained as Eddie flipped through the artful illustrations.  “Bondage as an art form.  I’ve, um, always wanted to try it.”

Eddie licked his lips, his dark eyes darting up to her before the illustrations drew him back in.  When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.  “Gotta be pretty flexible to pull some of these off,” he remarked.

“Oh, I am,” she assured him.  “Yoga instructor, remember?”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, tucking the book under his arm.  “Yeah, we need this.  Alright, last stop is - hm?  See something you like?”

She did indeed.  The display of collars and leashes had frozen her dead in her tracks, making a shiver of excitement trip up her spine.  

Eddie’s eyes followed her gaze.  “Ohhh, I see,” he said.  “Does my good girl need a collar for when we play?”

“Um… not exactly,” she hedged, giggling when Eddie tilted his head in curiosity.  With his head cocked like that, fluffy curls falling all around his face, and big, warm brown eyes looking at her so attentively, it was so easy to imagine him with a strip of black leather around his throat.  The idea had popped into her head last weekend, after he’d begged for the privilege to eat her out.  “So, um, when I was a kid, I used to beg my mom and dad every year for a pet.  A dog, a cat, a bunny, a bird… hell, even a fish.”  She quirked her lips humorlessly.  “Mom always said no.  Animals are disgusting, she said, and even when I said I’d take care of it, she’d just tell me my time would be better spent making myself pretty.”  Eddie scowled blackly at her words, but had the decency not to interrupt.  “Anyway, the closest thing I’ve ever had to a pet is my Chia Pet, Herb.  So I guess I thought…”  She trailed off, gesturing vaguely between Eddie and the display of collars. 

Pupils blown, Eddie swallowed hard.  “That… yeah, I could definitely work with that,” he said.  Abruptly, he cleared his throat.  “Some other time.  Right now, we’re focusing on you.”

And with that, he herded her to the last section: the one dedicated to pain and impact play.  Together, they were able to find a pair of nipple clamps that would work with her pierced nipples - one with a detachable chain.  

When they got to the spankers in all their forms, Chrissy hesitated.  There were so many to choose from, and Chrissy wasn’t sure about any of it.  For the most part, she’d only taken spankings from a bare hand, though her last Mistress had taught her the pleasures of being slippered.  But riding crops?  Floggers?  Paddles?  Rulers and rattan canes and spankers that looked like wooden spoons?  It was too much for her to process.

When she didn’t reach out for any of the intimidating implements displayed so lovingly on the shelves, Eddie noticed right away.  

“Too much?” he asked.  

“I don’t…”  She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to steady.  “I don’t know.  I mean… I’ve never used any of this stuff.  What if I don’t like it?”

“Hey.  C’mere.”  Eddie pulled her in close, tucking her in his arms with her head under his chin.  “Same rules apply here, baby girl.  You don’t like something, you say the word and it all stops.”

“I’m sorry I’m being such a basket case about this,” she mumbled, her voice muffled in the skin of his throat.  His stubble was scratchy against her lips, the smell of him quieting to her jittery anxiety.  “I just don’t want this stuff to go to waste.”

“It won’t,” he promised.  “Taking care of you is never a waste, Chrissy.”

Her throat thickened at that, her eyes stinging with tears.  How could he possibly think that when her own mother didn’t feel the same?  Hell, there were days when even Chrissy didn’t feel like she was worth the effort it took to keep herself healthy.

Needing a distraction - because the only thing more embarrassing than going into a sex shop would be to bawl her eyes out in a sex shop - Chrissy picked out a few things.  A flogger with supple leather strands, a riding crop whose handle doubled as a vibrator, and one of the thin rattan canes with a braided, leather-wrapped handle.

But apparently, Eddie wasn’t done.  He picked up a paddle - wooden, heart-shaped, and covered in black leather.  “Bend over, little girl,” he said.  “I wanna see how this fits.”

Chrissy looked around frantically, wondering if anyone heard.  The few other customers seemed completely uninterested in them, and the sole employee made a point of looking elsewhere.

“We can’t do that here!” she hissed.

He rolled his eyes with a good-natured grin.  “I’m not gonna spank you here,” he told her.  “Pretty sure we’d get kicked out of the store if I did.  I just wanna see how it looks.”  When she didn’t immediately acquiesce, his voice took on a warning tone.  “Don’t make me ask again, little girl.”

Face flaming, pussy throbbing in enthusiastic approval, breath coming in rapid little gasps, Chrissy turned her back on him and bent over, hands braced on her knees.  She felt the flat plane of the heart-shaped paddle press against her ass through her jeans.  When he gave her a playful swat, she had to bite her lip to keep from squealing in surprise and excitement.

“Oh yeah.  We need this,” he said.  “Anything else, or are we ready to cash out?”

Chrissy inhaled sharply, straightening.  Cash out.  Right.  They had to pay for all of this.

“Um… I don’t have much money right now,” she admitted.  Her studio apartment, even small and dingy as it was, used up nearly all of her meager paycheck, leaving enough for food and other necessities as long as she clipped coupons and bought secondhand.  “I can pay you back for half, but it’ll take time for me to get the money.”

Eddie looked at her like she’d grown a second head.  “You’re kidding, right?  Chrissy, I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.  What good is it if I can’t spend on the people I, y’know, the people I care about?”

Inside, Chrissy tried not to melt at his words.  The people I care about.  Eddie cared for her.  She knew that - obviously she knew that, with how close they’d been for the last few months of high school - but hearing it was another thing altogether.

Still, she had her principles.  “I don’t want you spending all your money on me,” she insisted stubbornly.

He rolled his eyes.  “Princess, trust me, this is a drop in the bucket compared to what I spend on Wayne every month on the sly.  Besides, it’s not like I get nothing out of this,” he added with a leer.

Well.  When he put it that way, it was a bit easier to accept.  “Fine,” she conceded, “but I’m buying lunch.”

Twenty minutes later, the two of them were tucked away in the booth of a nearby diner, playing footsy under the table while they waited for the waitress to come and take their order.

Reaching out, Chrissy laid her hand over his on the worn, slightly sticky tabletop.  He immediately flipped his hand over so his big fingers could envelope hers.

“Thanks again for… paying for… all of that,” she stammered, blushing hotly.  She was all too keenly aware of the other diners in the building - in the surrounding booths, the nearby tables, and the counter only ten or so feet away.  Plus the wait staff weaving their way around, perfectly positioned to overhear at just the wrong moment.

Eddie stared at her expectantly, his eyebrows pinched in a slight frown.  “Thank you… what?” he prompted, giving her hand an admonishing squeeze.

“Eddie!” she whispered harshly, ducking her head and glancing furtively around.  Nobody so much as glanced in their direction.  She heaved a sigh of relief.  “Not here!”

“Why not?” he asked, keeping his voice low but not sparing so much as a glance at the people all around them.  “Wasn’t that long ago that you were flashing that pretty pussy where all my bandmates could see.  What makes this any different?”

Chrissy thought wryly that his lowered volume was a sign of how he’d grown up; back in Hawkins, it probably wouldn’t have even occurred to him to do that much.  Eddie had many lovable qualities, but subtlety wasn’t one of them.  

“They didn’t see, though,” she argued feebly.  

“But they could’ve,” Eddie insisted.  “So what’s different?”

For God’s sake, Christine, don’t make a scene.  People are looking!  Do you want all these strangers to know what a greedy little pig you are?

“Drop it, Eddie,” she snapped, her voice taking on a hard edge she’d never heard before.  Not from herself, anyway.

For a long moment, he simply stared at her with a shuttered expression.  “Okay,” he said shortly, pushing himself up to his feet.

Panic welled up in Chrissy’s chest.  Was he leaving her?  Had she driven him away?  “Where are you going?” she asked, her voice shrill and panicky.

Pausing, he cupped her cheek in his palm.  Chrissy reached up and grasped his wrist without thought, mindlessly anchoring him to her so he couldn’t leave her.

“I’m just running to the car to get something,” he said quietly.  “Then I’m gonna go to the bathroom.  You’re gonna wait a few minutes, tell the waitress we’ll be back soon, and follow me in there.  Then we’re gonna do something about this obsession with pleasing total strangers.”  Chrissy opened her mouth to argue, but he silenced her with a look.  “Understand?  Tell me you understand, little girl.”

Chrissy wanted to balk at his sudden high-handedness.  Who was he to tell her what to do?  Sure, she liked being submissive to him, but they’d both agreed that this wasn’t going to be a twenty-four seven thing.

Her pussy, unfortunately, didn’t seem to get the memo.  It throbbed in approval at his sudden assertiveness.

But more importantly… his words got to her.  Eddie wasn’t doing this just to get a rise out of her, or grab the attention of everyone in the room the way he used to back in high school.  In an odd way… he was doing this for her.

And wouldn’t it be nice to be able to go out in public without worrying?  To meet the eyes of others without worrying about whether her hair was disheveled or her makeup was smudged?  Wouldn’t it be nice to be a person out in public, instead of the perfect doll she’d been raised to be?

“I understand, Daddy.”  Her voice came out as a choked-off whisper, but it came out nevertheless.  “What… what are you gonna do to me?”

“Whatever needs to be done,” he replied enigmatically.

“But - “

He cut her off with a shake of his head.  “Nope.  No buts.  Either you follow me in there and find out, or we sit down and forget the whole thing.  So what’s it gonna be?”

Chrissy considered.  As always, he was giving her an out - a convenient escape from the situation if she was truly uncomfortable.  And knowing him, he meant it when he said he’d never bring it up again.  Maybe he’d be disappointed, but he’d never hold it against her.

But if she didn’t at least try to meet him halfway, she’d be disappointed in herself.

“Okay,” she breathed.

His eyes softened, reminding her that even though he was her Dom, underneath was Eddie.  Her Eddie.

“Color?” he asked softly.

She smiled, somehow finding bravery even in the face of her fear.  “Green.”

His gaze intensified, holding fast to hers.  “Are you sure?”

She nodded.  “I’m sure.”

And that was how she found herself in the diner’s single-person bathroom, hands braced against the wall with her back to Eddie, with her denim shorts and panties bunched down around her knees.

“What if - what if someone comes in?” she asked.

“They won’t,” he assured her, running one rough, warm hand appreciatively over her hip.  “I locked the door and the chain.  Nobody’s getting in here with anything short of a battering ram.”

Chrissy nodded and forced herself to relax.  It helped a bit when Eddie pressed himself to her back, effectively blocking her from view of the door.  It helped even more when his free hand reached down to toy with her nether lips.

“But would it be so bad if they did?” he continued, his breath heavy in her ear.  “If those people out there - people you’re never gonna see again - saw just what a good girl you are.  Would that be the end of the world?”

His fingers continued to tease, slicking their way through her juices while avoiding the places she needed him most.  After the third time his fingertips skirted around her clit, she whined in frustration.

“Gonna have to be so quiet, princess,” he said with a huffed laugh.  “Otherwise that whole diner’s gonna know how you like to get fingered in the men’s bathroom.”

Her face burned in humiliation, but perversely, she felt a thrill of excitement at the idea.  She was pretty sure she’d die of embarrassment if one of the customers saw her like this.  But the threat of it… yeah, that did something for her.

A drop of something landed on the cleft of her ass, making her clap a hand over her mouth as she squealed in surprise.  

“Shh, shh, it’s just lube,” Eddie murmured in her ear.  “Keep quiet, or everybody’s gonna find out just how much my little slut likes getting her ass filled.  Don’t you?”

As if to prove his words, a finger from the hand not playing at her front snuck between her cheeks to play with her sensitive rear entrance.  Around and around his finger circled, moving in time with the one that now brushed feather-light against her clit.  She could feel herself clenching down on nothing, aching to be filled wherever he wanted to fill her.

“Daddy,” she mewled, pushing her hips out beseechingly toward him.

He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck in reward, lingering long enough to lick a long, hot stripe up one tendon.  “You know the rules, sweetness.  If you want something back here, you’ve gotta ask for it.”

“Please?” she asked, pressing herself against the tip of his finger.  “Please put your finger in my ass, Daddy.  I need it.”

Eddie gave a low chuckle.  “Good girl.”

To her surprise, his finger left her, and was quickly replaced by something else - something cool and smooth, with a tapered tip.  One of the plugs, she realized, stiffening.

“Shh, it’s alright.  It’s the smallest one,” he crooned, pressing only the barest tip inside.  “You’ve had almost this much in you before, when I fingered your naughty ass for the first time.  Remember?”

“Uh-huh.”  Not her most eloquent response, but it was hard to focus when the fingers of his right hand started playing with her clit while his left slowly fucked her ass with the plug, thrusting in and out, slow - slow - slow.  With each thrust it went a little deeper, stretching her a little wider, making her ass feel deliciously full even while her neglected pussy felt achingly hollow.

The stretching went on, wider and wider, until she was sure she was spread so wide open that she’d never close again.

“Are you - are you sure it’s the smallest one?” she stammered.

“Positive,” he murmured, pressing reassuring kisses to her cheek, her temple.  “I wouldn’t lie to you, princess.  You’re at the widest part now.  You’re being such a good girl for me, taking it so well.  Just a little more…”

Suddenly it was in, the plug sinking into her so quickly that her hole closed around it with a jolt.

“There you go,” he murmured, and she could hear the pride in his voice.  “How’s that feel?”

Chrissy gathered her scattered thoughts - an easier task now that she wasn’t being stimulated from both front and back.  It felt…  “Weird.  Good,” she said, clenching experimentally on the silicone.  Doing so sent a tiny shock of pleasure through her that had goosebumps rising on her arms under the fuzzy pink sleeves of her jacket.  “Really good.”

“Good.”  The hand playing with her pussy left her abruptly and started tugging her shorts and underwear back up over her hips.  “Now you’re gonna go back to our booth, and we’re gonna have a nice, greasy meal together before I take you back to my place to try out a few of our new toys.”

Chrissy stiffened and whirled around, the sudden movement putting distracting pressure on the plug in her ass.  “You want me to go out there?  Like this?  With a plug up my… my…”

He nodded.  “Yep.  You’re gonna go out there while I wash my hands, and you’re gonna walk back to our booth like you don’t love every bit of that plug up your ass.  You’re gonna blush like a cherry, just like you’re doing now,” and damn it, he was right, “and soon you’ll see that nobody gives a rat’s ass what two random people are doing, as long as it doesn’t interrupt their meal.”

Eddie shooed her out of the bathroom.  Stiffly, conscious of how her every move jostled the plug inside her, Chrissy crossed the restaurant to get back to the booth.  Her face was so hot that her head was surely going to explode like a hot dog in a microwave.  

And yet… just as Eddie predicted, nobody spared her a single glance.  She was doing something filthy, perverted, depraved in public… and nobody noticed.  Nobody cared.  The world wasn’t going to crumble beneath her feet because she was anything short of perfect.  Her mother hadn’t been a part of her life in eight years, so why did she still let Laura Cunningham dictate her very thoughts?

When she got to their booth, the waitress was just putting their plates on the table.  Chrissy summoned her best “I’m a carefree, innocent cheerleader who definitely doesn’t have two inches of silicone shoved up her butt” smile.

“Sorry about that.  My boyfriend’s in the bathroom, and I had to use the pay phone,” she lied smoothly.

“No big.  Enjoy your meal!” the waitress replied, not sparing Chrissy so much as a glance as she checked on the next table.  

Eddie sidled into his side of the booth with a smug grin.  “See?  Not so bad, is it?”

Chrissy snorted.  “Easy for you to say.  You’re not the one with something shoved up their butt,” she grumbled, unable to fight the grin curling around her lips.

The two of them are their meals, chatting idly about anything that came into their heads.  Chrissy talked about other places she’d like to travel to, and some she wouldn’t mind revisiting someday.  Eddie mentioned an upcoming interview with Rolling Stone that he was convinced he was going to fuck up.  

They were just finishing up their meal when Eddie froze, his face a mask of surprise and annoyance.  He covered his mouth with one hand.

“Don’t look now,” he said, “but we’ve got company.  Dickhead photographer from some gossip rag.  Just ignore him, he’ll go away.”

“Really?”

He sighed in aggravation.  “No, not really.  But we can at least pretend he’s not there.”

Chrissy risked a glance over her shoulder… and was immediately blinded with a camera flash.  “Yikes,” she muttered, raising a hand up to block her eyes.  “You weren’t kidding.”

“He’s got a reputation in the metal community,” Eddie continued.  “Always trying to catch us at a bad time, make us out to be insane cultists spreading satanism and herpes among America’s innocent, fresh-faced youth.”

Chrissy saw a familiar glint in his eye - the one that always warned of an imminent indignant tirade at America’s puritanical values and weaponized infantilization of today’s youth.  And while she adored Eddie for his passion and the courage to stand up for what he believed in, she really didn’t want to draw the entire diner’s attention on her while she had a plug up her ass.  

“Have you ever tried talking to him?” she asked.

He snorted.  “Don’t need to.  The guy makes his politics clear in every article.  He’s pro-censorship, pro family values bullshit.  He’s got his head shoved so far up Tipper Gore’s ass he can see what she ate for breakfast.”

Chrissy eyed the man through the window.  With his clean-cut good looks, blond hair, blue eyes, khakis, and button-down shirt, he looked more or less what she’d imagine Jason would look like today.  He was the type of guy who had no issue silencing the voices of others because he knew his voice would always ring out loud and clear.

“Let’s talk to him,” she decided, already standing up to switch seats to the bench next to Eddie.

He gaped at her.  “Princess, you can’t be serious.” 

She shrugged.  “Why not?  You’ll never change his mind if you don’t even try reaching out to him.”

Eddie scoffed.  “Trust me - people like that can’t be reasoned with.  They don’t want to be convinced.  They just look for evidence that supports their claims and pretend everything else doesn’t exist.”

“I’d still like to try,” she insisted.  She had to believe that someone like this could be convinced.  If she could make this person understand, it meant that she could make anybody understand.  Even people back in Hawkins.

Even her mother.

Eddie must have seen something of her determination in her face, because he relented with a sigh.  “Alright, do what you want,” he said,  pinching the bridge of his nose.  

Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to his cheek.  “Thanks, Eddie.”  Then, turning to the window, she waved to the photographer, gesturing for him to come join them.

The photographer’s eyes widened, and he glanced around cautiously as if he expected her to be waving to someone else.  Once he was assured that she did, in fact, want him to come inside, he did, sliding into the seat opposite the couple. 

Chrissy extended a hand across the table, giving the reporter her best thousand-watt cheerleader smile.  “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met.  I’m Chrissy.”

The man eyed her hand as though it were a piranha lying in wait to strip the flesh from his fingers.  When she didn’t retract her hand, he grudgingly took it.  “Trent Glass, The Mirror,” he said.

“Well, Trent, today’s your lucky day.  Today, you’re getting an interview,” she informed him.

Trent glanced over at Eddie, who snorted into his drink.  “Don’t look at me.  She’s the one you’re interviewing.”

He looked back Chrissy’s way.  “Why would I want to interview you?”

Chrissy raised an eyebrow.  Rude.  “Why wouldn’t you want to interview me?” she asked, her voice so saccharine she could practically feel them sticking to her tongue.

Trent didn’t seem to know how to respond to that.  Rummaging around the messenger bag at his hip, he produced a small notepad and pen.  “Alright, let’s get started.”

“Before we do,” Chrissy interrupted, “I’ve got a couple of ground rules.”  Trent nodded, listening.  “First: you can ask up to three questions, and I’ll answer them honestly.”

“Three?  Why just three?” the reporter demanded.

“Because you’ve interrupted what was a perfectly nice lunch date,” she retorted.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eddie’s face soften.

Trent frowned.  “You invited me here.”

“Yes, I did - after you took a photo without asking.  But my mother always used to say you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, so… here we are,” she said.  Her mother had a million other platitudes - mostly ones meant to keep Chrissy in line - but she’d always stuck by that one.  “So - ask your questions.  If you’re nice to me, maybe we’ll even pose for a picture.”

“Fine.”  Trent licked the tip of his pencil, then poised it on a blank page of his notepad.  “Name, occupation, and how long you’ve known Mr. Munson?”

Chrissy blinked.  She glanced over at Eddie, who simply shrugged at her.  “Those are your three questions?”

“That’s my first question,” he corrected.  His lips curled in a smug, triumphant grin.

As much as she hated it, Chrissy was every inch her mother’s daughter.  She was good at reading people’s intentions, especially when they were malicious.  If she pushed this point, and limited him to only those three questions, he could write anything about the two of them.  If she allowed him extra questions, he’d run roughshod all over her - and on a normal day, she’d even let him.  It was what she’d been taught to do since she could walk.

Oddly enough, it was the sensation of fullness in her ass that gave her courage.  She wasn’t that scared, helpless little girl anymore.  She was a woman who took what she wanted from life.  Who’d worked up the nerve to approach the man she’d been pining after for eight years, and ask him for a spanking.  Next to that, standing up to this man should be nothing.  

She was braver than she gave herself credit for.  What she and Eddie did together was proof of that.

A balance, then.  Give the man his three-in-one question, and two more single questions, but no more.  She said as much to the reporter, who nodded grudgingly.

“My name’s Chrissy Cunningham.  I teach yoga at a local gym, and I’ve known Eddie since high school,” she said.

Trent raised his eyebrows.  “Since high school?  That’s interesting.  Funny that I’ve seen him with other women, but not you.”

Chrissy recognized bait when she saw it.  This man wanted a reaction from her.  Maybe he was hoping she’d slip and offer extra information.  Or maybe he just wanted to piss her off so he could write about how terrible she was.

Well, luck wasn’t on his side.  She had more practice than most at hiding her feelings.  “I’m not hearing a question in there,” she said with the carefully neutral tone she used whenever her mother was laying a verbal trap of some sort.

His lips quirked.  “No, I suppose not.  Alright, then: how would you classify your relationship with Mr. Munson?”

A long, leather-clad arm wrapped around her shoulders, tugging her closer to Eddie’s side.  When she glanced up at him, his dark hair was falling in his face, which was tight with tension. 

“She’s my girl,” he said simply.

My girl.  My girl.  She’s my girl.  Eddie’s words echoed relentlessly in her head, making her beam so hard her cheeks ached.  When Trent glanced at her for confirmation, she nodded.  “You heard him.  We’re together,” she said.  

The man’s skeptical look told her all she needed to know about his feelings on the matter.  And honestly, that didn’t bother her.  So Eddie had had other lovers before her.  So had she.  And while she couldn’t say she was thrilled about the idea of him being with other women before they found each other again… at the end of the day, it didn’t matter.  They were together now.  He’d said so himself.

“Last question,” she reminded Trent when he didn’t speak up right away.

He nodded.  “Alright then.  I’m sure you’re aware that studies have been done on the rising instances of violence among American teens.  Studies are being done to determine whether there’s a link between metal music and violence.  Tell me: do you think your boyfriend’s music incites acts of violence and promiscuity among today’s youth?”

And there it was: the question he really wanted answered.  All the rudeness, all the needling, was all just to put her on the defensive so she’d answer this question angrily.  No doubt he pulled this tactic on rockstars and their loved ones whenever they gave him an audience.

But Chrissy was no stranger to swallowing down anger, to letting it sit uncomfortably in the hollow, aching void of her stomach and smiling through it.  

She leaned in closer, resting her elbows on the table and lowering her voice as if she was about to let Trent in on a big secret.  “You know… I’ve never really liked metal music.  It’s loud, it’s angry, and when it’s not angry it’s depressing.  It’s ugly,” she added, feeling Eddie stiffen beside her.  She nudged his knee reassuringly with hers.

Across the table from her, Trevor’s face lit up in a triumphant grin.  And oh, Chrissy was going to take special pleasure in shattering that smug smile into a million tiny pieces.

“And you know what’s even uglier than that?” she asked, waiting for him to nod encouragingly her way.  “What’s uglier than that is having a mother who leaves you covered in pinpricks and bruises if she catches you eating a bite too many.  It’s having a father so brow-beaten, he pretends he doesn’t see you crying at the dinner table.  It’s having a boyfriend who doesn’t care if you’re happy, as long as you look the part.  It’s feeling so alone, so scared and in pain and self-loathing, that thoughts of moving out after you graduate don’t comfort you anymore because you’re pretty sure you’re not gonna make it that long.  It’s having your every cry for help go unseen and unheard by the people who claim to love you.”  Leaning back in her seat, she tucked herself closer into Eddie’s side.  “It wasn’t the jocks or the cheerleaders who helped me get through that.  It wasn’t the teachers or reporters or my parents.  It was Eddie.  Metalhead freak Eddie Munson, with his metal music and Dungeons and Dragons and whatever the hell else you vultures are trying to blame for ‘corrupting today’s youth.’  So, yeah - metal music is loud and obnoxious and in your face and ugly.  But that ugliness did more for me than pretty and normal ever did.”  Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a handful of bills and dropped them on the table.  “Now if you’ll excuse us, Mr. Glass, we’ve got a date to get back to.”  Shrugging back into her pink faux-fur jacket, she made to stand up.

To her surprise, Eddie stopped her with a hand on her wrist.  “Just a sec, princess.  You promised the man a picture.”

“Oh!  Right!”  Sinking back into her seat, she fixed the reporter with a sunny smile.  “Ready whenever you are.”

Mouth pursed like he was sucking on a lemon, Trent Glass raised the camera.  With Eddie’s arm around her waist, his chuckle in her ear, and his plug up her ass, Chrissy blew a kiss just as the light flashed and the shutter clicked.

“Let me ask you something,” Eddie called through the door of his en suite bathroom while Chrissy got ready inside.

“What?” she asked, reapplying the lip gloss that had come off while they were eating.

“You were so freaked out about people knowing what sort of shit we get up to behind closed doors,” he said, “but then you talk about… y’know, the stuff with your mom and Jason like it’s nothing.  I just… I don’t get it.”

Chrissy chewed on her inner cheek.  The truth was, she hadn’t really been thinking about the repercussions of her words when she said them.  She hadn’t given thought to the fact that that reporter could print them in his stupid gossip column with her picture attached.  All she’d really been thinking about was how, even years later, people judged Eddie unfairly based on how he looked and what music he listened to.  

And, honestly?  She didn’t regret a single word.  Maybe this would all come to bite her in the butt.  Maybe not.  Either way, defending Eddie was worth it.  Would always be worth it.

“I guess… it’s gotten easier for me to talk about my old home life, because not talking about it just made everything worse.  I didn’t realize how bad until you listened to me back then,” she said, tweaking the green ribbon in her hair until both ends were even.  “Plus, it sort of feels like I’m sticking it to my mom, in a way.  She always raised me to be seen and not heard.  Now… I get to be heard.  Even if it’s just by a handful of old judgmental buddies who clutch their pearls when they read the article.”

“Makes sense.”  She could hear the jingle of his wallet chain as he paced outside the closed bathroom door.  “You almost done in there?  This surprise of yours has me on the edge of my seat.”

“Yup, just about.”

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, she put the finishing touches on her look.  She’d changed out of her yellow tank top and denim shorts; now, she wore a tennis outfit she’d found at goodwill a little over a week ago.  The white knit short-sleeved shirt had a forest green polo style collar, and horizontal green stripes at the sleeves and hem.  The matching pleated skirt fell to about mid-thigh.  A thin strip of sun-kissed skin peeked out between where the shirt ended and the skirt began.  Knee-high socks and a green ribbon in her hair finished the look.  Sure, she didn’t have any pom poms, and the shirt didn’t have the Hawkins High cheerleading emblem on the front, but it sort of gave the right look.  If you squinted.  

God, she hoped he liked it.  This was a fantasy she’d had since just before graduation; if he wasn’t into it, she just might die.

“Okay.  Um.  I’m ready.  But you have to promise not to laugh!”

“Cross my heart, sweetness.”

Gaze locked on her sneakers - a secondhand pair more faded and worn than her old cheer shoes - she turned the knob and let the door swing open.  Shoulders hunched, fidgeting nervously, she waited for Eddie to say something.  Anything.

But he didn’t.  For once, he was completely silent.  Right.  Looked like it was up to her to say something.

“So, um.”  Gathering her courage, she managed to raise her gaze as high as his clavicle, where the dark red of his lucky guitar pick necklace nearly blended in with the faded black of his W.A.S.P. T-shirt.  She fixated on that necklace, staring at it as if the answers to all the universe’s most profound questions dwelt there.  “So, um, there’s this… there’s this fantasy,” she started.

“Okay, cool, off to a good start.  Fantasies are good.”  Rough fingers touched her chin, lifted until her eyes met his.  “Tell me what gets those little panties wet, sweetness.”

How did he do that?  How did he always manage to blend just the right amounts of filthy and sweet until she was reduced to a desperate, needy, adoring puddle?

“Okay, so, in this fantasy, you’re you, and I’m me, and we’re - we’re back in high school, right?  And we have sex at school.”

Eddie’s eyes went nearly black with hunger.  His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip.  Chrissy watched avidly.  “And, when you say ‘at school,’ you mean…?”

Anywhere.  Everywhere.  “I… may have imagined a lot of places.  The cafeteria during lunch.  The front of a classroom.  Under the bleachers.  In the theater room where you did Hellfire.  In your van in the parking lot.  At our picnic table.”  The words poured out of her; once she started, it was almost impossible to stop.

Eddie whistled low.  “Damn, Chrissy, your mind is filthy.  How long have you been fantasizing about this?”

Oh god.  Of course he’d ask that.  There was no way she could tell him that she’d dreamed of this since the first time she visited his trailer - that she’d touched herself to the idea of him fucking her throat under the bleachers during a basketball game.  He’d think she was pathetic.

So she lied.  “A few years, I guess?”

He stared at her in what she could only assume was stunned disbelief.  His cheeks glowed a deep pink.  “All that time?  Really?”

This was not a conversation she was ready to have.  If the butterflies in her stomach flapped any harder, she’d make a hurricane in China.  Hastily, she nudged them back to a safer path.  “That’s not all.  You also, um, you punished me.”

Eddie took the bait - hook, line, and sinker - giving her a lascivious grin.  “Oh I did, huh?  And what, pray tell, did I punish you for?”

She shrugged.  “Lots of things.  Being Jason’s girlfriend, being a cheerleader…  Mostly, just because you wanted to.”

He scrubbed a hand over his smile.  “I can work with that.”  Crossing the room to his dresser, he opened a drawer and rummaged around inside.  Grabbing something, he quickly hid it behind his back.  “Gimme like, five… no, make that ten minutes.  Then meet me in my D&D room down the hall,” he said, then vanished through the doorway without another word.

For the next ten minutes, Chrissy paced in Eddie’s bedroom, stomach a ball of nerves.  This was happening.  This was really happening.  Her biggest fantasy, the one that kept her company for so many lonely nights, was finally coming true.  Eight years too late, but still.

It was silly to be so on edge about this.  She and Eddie were a couple now.  Right?  And they’d already had sex multiple times.  He’d stayed the night last weekend, only slipping out the door the next morning so he wouldn’t miss his call with Wayne.  

But this fantasy represented her dearest wish and her biggest regret.  What would have happened if she’d gone with him to California instead of taking off in the other direction?  Would their relationship burned out fast and hot?  Or would they still be together today?

She couldn’t turn back the clock and do things differently.  And honestly, she didn’t want to.  She loved her life, and wouldn’t change it.  But at least she could have this.

When ten minutes elapsed, she headed down the hall to the room Eddie told her.  To her surprise, the door was shut.  For about ten seconds, she debated whether she should knock or not, before deciding that she was being ridiculous.  She was Eddie’s girl.  He’d invited her to spend the night.  More importantly, he’d told her to meet him in this room.  Of course he wanted her to walk in.  Holding her breath, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The room was the smallest bedroom in the house, and perfectly silent except for the soft scratching of pencil on paper.  Every wall except one was hidden from sight by dark wooden bookcases full to bursting with books, binders, and tiny, painstakingly-painted little figurines of… orcs, or elves, or wizards, or something.  Chrissy didn’t know enough about D&D to really know much on the subject.

The wall directly across from her was taken up by a wide, mahogany desk.  Eddie sat at that desk, his leather swivel chair turned so his back was to her.  He’d put his leather jacket back on at some point in the past ten minutes.  

No, she realized as she noticed the chains holding the sleeve cuffs together.  This wasn’t the jacket he’d been wearing an hour ago.  This was his old high school jacket - a bit more worn, seams exposed at the shoulders, denim vest missing, but undeniably the same jacket.  Not only had Eddie agreed to go along with her little roleplay idea, he was even dressing the part.  She should’ve expected no less of him.

The pencil scratching stopped, and Eddie raised his head without turning.  “Kinda rude to just burst in without an invitation, don’tcha think?”

A sincere apology was on the tip of her tongue when she remembered why they were here.  He was playing along with the scenario she’d laid out.  

“Sorry,” she said, adopting the shy, hesitant tone she might’ve taken with him if this had really happened when she was eighteen.  “I just… I need to talk to you.  Alone.”

“Yeah, I heard.”  

He swiveled his chair around to face her.  With his knees spread wide, his back slouched, and his fingers steepled in front of his chest, he looked just as cocky and standoffish as she’d always thought he was all that time ago.  

Glancing down, she was surprised to see that Eddie was wearing his old Hellfire shirt.  It was stained and threadbare in places, and the lettering and demon head were faded from time.

He continued, looking up at her with those big, dark eyes of his.  “So word has it you’re looking to join Hellfire.  What’s the matter - sick of pretending watching Carver throw balls in laundry baskets is the center of the universe?”

Chrissy had to hold back a snort.  There was no way in hell she ever would’ve joined his club back then.  Even if her mother hadn’t had her completely cowed into silent, meek obedience, she didn’t know the first thing about Dungeons and Dragons.

But Eddie was playing his part beautifully, acting every bit like the brash, rebellious freak of Hawkins High she’d always found so intimidating.  She owed it him to give it her best shot.  

“I… I probably shouldn’t be here,” she said, lowering her face to hide the grin spreading across her face.  How was it possible to feel so silly and so turned on at the same time?  Clearing her throat, she went on.  “If anybody found out I was here… my life would be over.”

“Yeah, probably,” he said carelessly, the apathy in his words belied by the bulge of interest in his tight, ripped jeans.  “Let me guess: you’ve been a good girl all your life: perfect looks, perfect grades, perfect boyfriend.  You’re all set to marry the high school basketball hero the second you’ve got your diploma in your perfectly-manicured little hand.  But before you settle into a life of vanilla-ever-after with your handsome prince, you wanna slum it with the freaks.”  Rising abruptly, he circled around behind her.  The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as he swept her perfectly-coiled ponytail in one hand.  She could feel it when he brought her tresses to his face and inhaled.  “How am I doing, princess?  Am I far off base?”

Extremely.  But he knew that already.  That wasn’t what this was about.  This was supposed to be fun.  Resolving to turn her brain off and just enjoy, she leaned back into Eddie.  “Does it matter?”

She felt him shrug, heard the creak of the old leather jacket on his shoulders.  “Eh, not really.  Not like you’d be the first cheerleader looking to piss off her boyfriend or her dad or whatever by coming to the freak.  Still, most of ‘em do a drug deal.  Or try to score free weed by coming to the back of my hand.  Gotta say, I’ve never had one of you try joining Hellfire.  Points for originality, I guess.”  Suddenly his hand grasped her ponytail, pulling her head back with a sharp jerk that made a moan bubble up from her throat.  The sweet pain in her scalp traveled down her spine, all the way to where she was already wet and ready for him.  “We don’t let just anybody join Hellfire, you know.  You’ve gotta prove yourself first.  Tell me, little girl: what are you willing to do to prove yourself to me?”

“Anything.”  The word spilled from her lips without thought.  And why wouldn’t it?  It was true.  She’d do anything he asked, anything that would make her enough for him.  That would make her deserve to be with him.

“Anything, huh?”  She could hear the filthy grin in his words.  And just as suddenly as he’d grabbed her, he let go of her hair.  Before her brain could register her disappointment, he gave her a gentle shove toward the desk.  “Bend over the desk and lift your skirt up.  I wanna see what that cute cheer skirt’s been hiding all this time.”

Chrissy took the few steps to the desk and bent over it, arching her back to raise her hips enticingly.  Reaching back, she flipped her skirt up, shivering in excitement at displaying herself for him.

Normally, the view under a cheerleader’s skirt wasn’t nearly as exciting as high school boys seemed to think it was.  No high school would’ve endorsed sports events where cheerleaders flashed their panties to the crowd, after all.  Her cheer uniform included a pair of skintight green shorts the exact same shade as her skirt.

Obviously, she didn’t have those anymore, so she wasn’t wearing them now.  And she couldn’t see her teenaged self owning the sexy panties she bought from the lingerie boutique down the street from her work, so she hadn’t worn those, either.  Her plain, cotton, everyday panties would have maintained the illusion, but they weren’t exactly sexy.

So she’d gone without.

Behind her, Eddie sucked a breath in through his nose.  She felt his hands - rough, warm, and so, so big - grasp her ass cheeks and spread them.  Her face heated under the weight of his regard.  Spread out like this, she was on display for his perusal, and she knew he could see everything from the nest of red-gold curls at her apex to the clear ring of the plug still buried in her ass.

“Jesus Christ.  You’re a little freak, aren’t you, Cunningham?” he asked approvingly.  “Walking around school all day with no panties on, dripping wet, your tight little ass stretched around that plug.”  He released his hold on her cheeks, but kept his hands on her, running them possessively over her hips.  “Everyone here thinks you’re such a prude.  Prissy Chrissy, who took three years to put out for Carver.  But I know the truth.  Truth is you’re dying for it, aren’t you?”

Chrissy ignored the fact that she’d never said a word to Eddie about her prudish reputation.  The fact that he knew about it - that he remembered after all this time - had implications that she honestly didn’t have the brain power to deal with just now.  She’d think about it later.  For now, all that mattered was the persistent ache between her legs, and the man she desperately wanted to do something about it.

“Yes,” she whimpered.

“Yes, what?” he prompted, punctuating his question with a swift smack to her ass.

Chrissy moaned at the jolt of pleasure-pain that ran through her, and the heat that followed.  “Yes, Daddy, I’m dying for it.”

He chuckled low in his throat.  “Daddy, huh?  Even when you’re bad, you’re still such a good girl.  You are a needy slut, aren’t you?”  When she didn’t answer right away, he gave her a spank on the other cheek.  “I said, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” she yelped.  “I’m - I’m your needy slut, Daddy.”

“Oh, I dunno about that.”  He started spanking her in earnest, setting an easy pace that gave just enough time for the heat from one slap to bloom across her skin before giving her another.  “If you were my slut, it wouldn’t be Carver’s backseat where you get fucked every Friday night at the quarry.  Would it?”  

Chrissy just shook her head.  Already, her mind was going to that wonderful, floaty place where she felt as light and fluffy as cotton candy, where pain stopped being pain and became delicious, excruciating bliss.  Finding the words would pull her out of that place, and she didn’t want to go.

“Tell you what,” he added, projecting his voice so she could hear him over the repeating, resounding smack of his palm against the full flesh of her bottom, “if you can be good for me, if you can take whatever punishment I give you, I’ll give you what you want.  Whatever you want.  Understand?”

Chrissy didn’t speak.  Her body and mind were too buffeted by sensation for her to form words.  Wordlessly, she nodded.

Apparently that wasn’t enough for Eddie, who gave her a hard slap on the inner thigh that had her yelping.  “I asked you a question, little girl,” he growled.

“Yes!” she cried, forcing her spinning mind back to reality.  “Yes, yes, yes, I understand.  I wanna be so good for you, Daddy.”

“I know you do.”  

And with that, Eddie upped the ante, no longer giving her time to recover between blows.  What had been a hearth fire - burning, yet controlled - was now stoked to a bonfire: blazing higher and higher, held in check only by Eddie’s attentive care.

Chrissy endured it as stoically as she could.  But soon, she was crying out in exquisite agony and excruciating ecstasy, her tears falling to the unyielding surface of the wooden desk top.  Her hips moved up and down, unable to decide if they wanted to escape Eddie’s cruel attentions or beg for more.  Desperate to relieve the horrible, aching emptiness at her apex, she rubbed her thighs restlessly together.

Abruptly, the punishment stopped.  Pressing her hot forehead to the cool desk, Chrissy moaned in equal parts relief and loss.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Daddy demanded.  “Did I say you could do that?  Spread those pretty thighs apart, before I tie them to the legs of the desk.”

Even with her mind floating in a blissful fog, she obeyed him instantly.  She didn’t need to think about it.  He was her Daddy, and his word was law.  If she did as she was told, Daddy would reward her.  He’d said so, and he never lied to her.  If she pleased him, it would make him happy.  She would make him happy.  She wanted to be good for him so badly it made her chest ache.

“Sorry Daddy,” she said, her words slurred and indistinct, voice thick with tears.  “Sorry, sorry.  I’ll be good for you, Daddy.”

“Shhh.”  She felt an abrupt shift in him, as his hands drifted up her shirt to caress her back.  She arched helplessly into his touch.  “You’re doing so well, princess.  So good for Daddy.”

Chrissy turned her head so one cheek rested on the desk.  She could see Daddy looming over her out of the corner of her eye.  She offered him a bleary, but heartfelt smile.

His hand reached up to cup her cheek, feeling surprisingly cool against her overheated face.  “There’s my girl,” he said with a warm smile.  “How’re you doing?  Need a break?”

She shook her head.  The motion made a tear fall from her eye, across her nose, and down to the desk, which was already wet with her sweat and tears.

“Water?  Need to move?”

She shook her head again.  Pushing a bit of her mental fog aside - enough to remember words, but not enough to steal the feeling of perfect tranquility and bliss from her - she remembered their signal.  “G… green,” she mumbled.  Tentatively, she raised her hips beseechingly.  “More, please, Daddy?”

His gaze went hot.  “Alright, baby, since you’re so polite and all.”  Reaching into the desk drawer next to her, he pulled out two objects and placed them in front of her.  “Why don’t we play with one of your new toys, little girl?  Tell me which one you want.”

Raising her head, Chrissy stared blearily at the things he’d placed in front of her.  One was the black leather paddle.  The other was the thin rattan cane with the black handle.  The paddle was interesting, but the thought of the sharp sting of the cane made her stomach swoop in anticipation.

“Cane, Daddy, please,” she pleaded, lifting her hips again.

“Okay, princess, I hear you.”  Picking up both items, he tucked the paddle away and returned to his position behind her.  Soon, she felt the thin cane caressing the still burning skin of her backside.  “I need you to keep your hands on the desk, okay?  I don’t wanna get one of your fingers with this thing.”

A shiver of fear went through her.  What if she didn’t like it?  What if he did real damage to her?  What if - 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said, interrupting her spiraling thoughts.  “We’re not gonna go too hard this time, okay?  I want you to love this.  If it’s too much, we’ll stop.”

Chrissy gave a tiny nod.

“That’s my girl.”  Clearing his throat, he hardened his voice back to what it was before they stopped.  “Maybe a few hits with this’ll cure that greedy pussy of yours.  Let’s find out.”  

For several moments, she waited, tensed for the first blow.  She felt the cane leave her bottom, tensed herself… and got a gentle tap, not even enough to sting against her punished backside.  Over and over, Daddy pulled the cane back, and patted her ass with the cane.  

Eventually, Chrissy stopped tensing herself in anticipation of the blow.  And that was when he struck with a crack.  At first, she felt only the impact.  Then a line of fire bloomed across her ass cheeks, the heat traveling down, taking a slight detour to her rear entrance where it still clenched around the plug, before making a beeline straight for her pussy.

“Oh god,” she mewled.  Her legs trembled underneath her, threatening to give out.  

“Knew red would be your color,” Daddy said, his tone smug as he traced the stinging line with a fingertip.  “Ready for more, little girl?”

“Please!”

“Good girl.  Good, good girl.”  He caressed her with the cane, moving it slowly up and down the globes of her ass.  “That was one.  If you can take five more, I’ll reward you.”  

The whistle of the cane through the air was the only warning she got before the second blow landed, an inch or so below the first.  Again and again he struck, each blow lower and lower until the final one got her right where her ass met her upper thighs.

Casting the cane aside, Daddy dropped to his knees.  His tongue immediately followed the paths carved by the cane only moments before.  His tough on her over sensitive skin made her blood sing in her veins, her nerves crackling with energy

“God, sweetness, your ass looks like candy all marked up like this,” he groaned.  His tongue darted into her darkened cleft, dancing just shy of the plug still inside her.  “Fuck.  Fuck.  And you taste even better.”

Insensate with the feelings buffeting her, Chrissy could only moan.  She felt good, so good, but… empty.  She needed.  She needed him in her.

“Daddy,” she moaned plaintively.

“Alright,” he muttered, standing.  “Alright, princess, I’m hearing you.”  Behind her, she could hear the jingle of his belt buckle coming undone.  Soon, she felt the blunt head of his cock, hot and deliciously thick, stroking against her nether lips.  “Look at you.  You took your punishment so well.  But you’ve gotta do one last thing for me.  If you wanna be my little slut, you’ve gotta ask for it.  Can you do that for me, baby?”

Frantically, she nodded.  Yes, yes yes yes she wanted him.  She needed him.  Every time he nudged against her aching clit, she thought she might just go up in flames.

“Words, Chrissy.  I need to know you’re good,” he said seriously.

It took time for her to find words.  Who needed words when she could just lose herself in sheer sensation?  

But Daddy wanted words, and she couldn’t disappoint him.

“Fuck me?” she asked in a small voice.  “Please fuck me?”

“There we go.”  

Slowly, achingly slowly, he slid inside her until he was buried up to the hilt.  Unable to think, Chrissy simply moaned; with Eddie in her pussy and a plug in her ass, she’d never felt so full before.

“There you go,” he repeated, pulling out slowly before slamming back home.  The rough denim of his jeans provided delicious friction against her ass, stoking the flames of her need ever higher.  “That’s what you needed, isn’t it?  Not Hellfire.  Not weed.  Not your perfect little boyfriend.  You needed someone to show this greedy cunt what it was missing.  Didn’t you?” he demanded with a particularly vicious thrust.

“Yes!” she wailed, pushing back to meet him with every thrust.  His pace was rough, fast, almost brutal in its intensity.  She’d never felt so alive in her life.

“Imagine if he walked in right now,” Eddie continued.  “If Carver came looking for you in the last place he’d ever expect.  Imagine how he’d react to seeing his sweet, innocent girlfriend getting fucking railed by the freak.”  

“Oh my god,” she moaned, picturing exactly that.

“The whole school would find out,” he continued, taking her fantasy and running with it.  “Imagine how they’d all look at you.  Imagine how they’d pity you, losing out on Jason fucking Carver and being stuck with me.”  His breath was coming in ragged gasps now, the effort of talking and fucking starting to catch up with him.  “But you and I know the truth.  I’m the only one who can give you what you need, aren’t I?  The only one who sees past all that bullshit.  I’m the one you need, aren’t I?”

“Yes, Daddy - yes, Eddie,” she cried.  “I need you, I need you, I need you!”

Just then, Eddie hooked a thumb in the ring of her plug, moving it in and out of her ass in time with his thrusts. The added sensation of the silicone slipping in and out of her sensitive ring, now accustomed to the stretch, sent her hurtling over the edge with a scream.

Eddie fucked her through her orgasm, not so much as slowing as he brutally shoved her headlong toward a second.  “Nothing’ll keep you in this fucking town anymore,” he rasped, picking up the pace.  “Gonna - gonna throw you in the back of my van, yeah, gonna take you with me, gonna - gonna fucking keep you - “

This time, when she came, he joined her, spurting himself inside her with a shout.  His fingers dug bruising Lu into her hips as he spent himself in hot jets, her channel spasming around him as she milked him of every drop.

As soon as it was over, he leaned heavily on top of her, gasping for air.  Out of breath herself, Chrissy found it a bit hard to breathe with his weight on top of her.  Still, it was hard to complain when he was pressing sweet, lingering kisses to the back of her neck.

Eventually, he softened inside her and slipped loose, pulling a moan of protest from her.  He shushed her, helping her to her feet when her legs were too wobbly to support her.  Stooping low so she could wrap an arm around his shoulders to support herself, he walked her back to the bedroom.  He undressed her slowly, smiling softly at her once she was completely naked.  

When his fingers went to her ass, she hissed in pain.  Now that the scene was over, the pain was starting to feel less pleasant and more overwhelming.  Overtaxed by what she went through - what she’d asked for, and enjoyed every moment of - she began to shiver.

He shushed her, one hand holding her cheeks apart while the other one gently, gently worked the plug free.  It left her with a silent pop, leaving her feeling empty.  As if a part of Eddie had left her.  Which was silly.  All it was was a tapered lump of silicone they’d bought at the store just that day.  It didn’t mean anything when he put it in, or when he took it back out.

But that didn’t stop the tears from forming in her eyes while Eddie went to the bathroom to wash the plug and his hands.  Feeling stupid, she buried her face in the pillows and did her best to keep her sobs quiet.

When he came back, it was with a jar of ointment, which he smoothed into her ass with gentle hands, crooning reassuringly any time she flinched or shuddered.  Once done with that, he stripped down to his boxers, climbed into bed, and pulled a blanket over the both of them.  

“So good for me,” he murmured as he kissed the salt of her tears off her cheeks.  “I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.  I dunno what I did to deserve you, but…”  He trailed off, shaking his head, and pulled her close.

Wrapped in his arms, with his soothing voice in her ear and his chocolate curls tickling her nose, her heart swelled with so much love for him that her throat thickened and closed.  Still floating on the hazy edges of subspace, she let him tug her until she was lying on top of him.  Reaching over to his nightstand, he grabbed a book, opened it to the first page, and started to read aloud.

Lying limply against him, listening as he told the story of an eldest daughter as she quietly ran her parents’ hat shop, she gradually drifted off to sleep.

Lying on her stomach on Eddie’s living room couch the next morning, Chrissy nibbled at a piece of toast.  She and Eddie had woken up thirty minutes before, just in time for his weekly call with his uncle.  He’d invited her to join him, mentioning that Wayne had asked after her, but she’d declined.  

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Wayne.  Honestly, she was touched that both men were okay with letting her intrude on their family tradition.  But her butt still really hurt from yesterday, and Eddie’s kitchen chairs weren’t padded.  So here she was, watching TV and nibbling on some fruit, bacon, and buttered toast.  The TV was on, less because she wanted to watch it and more to keep herself from eavesdropping on the conversation happening in the kitchen.

Humming to herself, she crunched on a piece of bacon, rolling her eyes in bliss.  Bacon.  Toast.  Coffee with cream and sugar in it.  All of those things had been banned to her by her mother.  Even years later, she still had a hard time believing some days that she was allowed to have those things.  That she could grab a pint of ice cream and have as much or as little as she wanted.  Sure, some days were harder than others, but that ugly little voice in her head that told her to take nothing, to be smaller, to take up as little space as possible, grew quieter every day.

And Eddie - things with Eddie were looking up.  After she’d taken a healing nap yesterday, they’d spent the rest of the evening together, and she’d spent the night here.  They’d played Mario Kart in his room, lying on their stomachs like gossiping kids at a slumber party, and he’d thoroughly trounced her in every match.  Then they played some new game he picked up, where he was a gorilla and she was his monkey friend, and they were on a quest to find their missing hoard of bananas.  When his stomach started to rumble, they ordered some pizza and watched movies on TV.  Then they went to bed, where he fucked her slow and easy, his eyes never once leaving hers as she stared adoringly up at him.

Life was good, and getting better by the day.  Which, of course, meant that it was time for fate to lob a curveball her way.

“Chrissy?” Eddie called from the kitchen.  The caution in his voice set alarm bells ringing in her head.  “Can you come here a sec?  There’s something I think you need to hear.”

“Um… sure.”  Switching off the TV, she gingerly rose to her feet, careful not to put any weight on her sore bum as she did.  Making her way to the kitchen, she paused when she saw Eddie.  He was seated at the counter, his plate of food untouched, a long line of ash forming on the cigarette between his fingers.  He looked as white as a sheet.  “What’s… going on?” she asked, heart in her throat.

Eddie stood up, gesturing for her to take his seat.  “Baby, I think you should sit down.

Feeling sick, Chrissy obeyed.  Her mind barely even registered the pain in her bruised backside.

Eddie waved to the phone, which was on speaker.  “Go ahead, old man.”

Over the speaker, Wayne cleared his throat.  “Hey, Chrissy girl.  How you been?”

“Been okay.  How are you, Wayne?”  The words came out of her mouth with no input from her brain, courtesy of years of being taught to parrot polite small talk.  Inside, she was clamoring to know what was going on.  Whatever it is, just tell me, tell me, tell me!

“Ah, you know.  Can’t complain, nobody listens,” he quipped.  Quickly, he sobered.  “Listen, there’s something you oughtta know.  About your parents.”

Chrissy gripped the edge of the counter with hands gone clammy and cold.  “Did they find me?” she asked.  “Does my mother… know where I live?”  Eddie’s hand gripped her shoulder, offering his silent support.  She leaned unconsciously into him.

“No, no, nothing like that!” Wayne hastened to reassure her.  “Just… look, for the past couple months, we haven’t seen hide nor hair of Philip at the plant.  Ain’t seen your momma around town, either.  But the other day, my buddy Sal’s wife was going into labor, so he took her to the hospital.  And he saw both your parents there.”

Chrissy’s mind somehow seemed to race and stand still all at once.  The hospital.  The hospital.  That could mean any number of things.  Not that Laura was having another baby, obviously; even if she weren’t too old, she’d always been very vocal about how her two children had ruined her body.

“Was…”  Hearing the rasp in her voice, she cleared her throat and tried again.  “Was there an accident, or…?”

“Aw, hell,” she heard Wayne mutter over the phone.  “You’d think I’d be used to giving you kids shit news about your parents by now.”

Eddie stepped in.  “I’ve got this, Wayne.  I know you’ve gotta get ready for work in a few.”  After the two men said their goodbyes and hung up, Eddie turned Chrissy to face him.  Both his hands were on her shoulders, as if he was afraid the news, whatever it was, would make her float away.  “Chrissy, the place where Sal saw your parents leaving, it was…”  He trailed off, looking ill.

“Please just say it,” Chrissy begged through bloodless lips.

Eddie sighed.  “It was the oncology ward.”

Chapter Text

Eddie rang the doorbell to the brown and tan mansion and jammed his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket while he waited.

“Just a minute!” a woman’s voice called from inside, the words lilting with an Aussie accent.  He heard the muffled clack of heeled shoes on hardwood approaching.  Then the door swung open, revealing a woman about Chrissy’s age and height, with pale blue eyes and curling chestnut hair that fell around her waist.  Her royal blue sleeveless dress contrasted sharply with her pale skin.  “Eddie!” she cried, pulling him in for a one-armed hug.  “So glad you could make it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it.  Thanks again for doing this, Belle,” he said, following her inside to the living room.

He’d been here dozens of times over the years, but never during the day, and never when the house was so empty.  Usually when he came here, nearly every flat surface was occupied by couples (or more) engaging in various sexual acts.

The last time he’d come here, he’d been heart-weary and ready to leave without ever coming back.  And then Chrissy had shown up, looking sweetly sexy in that blue dress of hers, and turned his world upside down.

Belle gave him a warm smile.  “Of course!  We’re always happy to help people who are just starting - learning the ropes, so to speak.”

Eddie snorted at her pun, as well as her use of the word “we.”  Belle Gold was a generous, giving woman - the type who would give you the shirt off her back without even having to be asked.  Her husband, on the other hand, was… well, in Eddie’s opinion, kind of an asshole.  The kind of guy who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire unless there was something in it for him.  Eddie had no doubt that, if it were up to Belle’s husband, they wouldn’t even be throwing play parties in the first place.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I’m going upstairs to get ready.  My husband’s down in the basement, in his workshop.  He’s expecting you.”

And with that, she left the room, the skirt of her royal blue skirt fluttering around her thighs. 

Yeah, Eddie looked.  Years of admiring Chrissy and her cheer skirt from afar made him like Pavlov’s dog when it came to short, fluttery skirts.  Sue him.

Once she was gone, Eddie made his way down to the basement - the one place he’d never been.  The one place that was off-limits to all outsiders when the Golds threw their play parties.  The space was fully finished and cluttered with all sort of furniture and random knickknacks and tchotchkes.  It sort of reminded Eddie of Chrissy’s place.  Except where Chrissy’s cramped little studio apartment was crammed full of cheap souvenirs and dollar store merchandise, this basement was filled to the brim with antiques in various stages of restoration.

Sitting at a large wooden desk, tinkering with an antique under a large magnifying glass, was the man Eddie simply knew as Gold.  A slight, angular man, dressed in a dark suit that probably cost more than Eddie’s entire wardrobe, Gold was a man in his mid-forties.  His shoulder-length brown hair was silvering at the temples, and his sharp features were pulled in a sly smirk.  

It gave Eddie the creeps, sometimes.  That smile seemed to say, “I know something you wouldn’t want me to know.”  Sure, he trusted Gold not to spill any of what happened at the parties his wife threw - Eddie wouldn’t have attended them otherwise - but it set him on edge, nonetheless.

“Mr. Munson,” he greeted politely, a gleam in his brown eyes.  His words had the slight edge of a Scottish burr, smoothed out from tears of living in the States.  “How good to see you again.  I take it Miss Cunningham won’t be joining us today?”

Eddie gaped at him.  “How’d you know about her?” he blurted.

“I make it my business to know things,” Gold replied enigmatically.  He nodded significantly to a magazine lying just to his right on the desktop.  “That, and the two of you made quite the handsome cover on The Mirror.”

Eddie glanced down at the magazine in question.  Sure enough, he and Chrissy featured on the front cover of Trent Glass’s rag.

Okay.  So, cool.  The cat was out of the bag, then.  Which was fine.  More than fine - it was great!  As far as Eddie was concerned, anyway.  Hell, he’d announce it to the world if he could.  He’d take out a full-page ad in every newspaper in the country.  He’d hire the Goodyear blimp.  He’d start every concert and sign every album with “Chrissy, this is for you.”

But that wasn’t what Chrissy wanted.  She might’ve told some small-time rag in LA that they were together, but she still didn’t want Hawkins to find out.  Didn’t want her parents to find out.  He hated it, but he had to respect it.

“But I can see you don’t want to talk about that,” Gold continued smoothly.  “So tell me, Mr. Munson: how can I help you?”

“I wanna learn more about shibari,” he said simply, leaning against a nearby metal jack post.

Gold leaned back in his chair, possibly in mimicry of Eddie’s own relaxed posture.  “Ah, yes, shibari.  Or, as it’s known in Japan, kinbaku, or kinbaku-bi - the beauty of tight binding.  It has roots in - “

“Yyyeah, I’m gonna cut you off right there,” Eddie interrupted.  “I didn’t come here for a history lesson, and if that’s what you’re offering, we’re both in for a bad time.  It took me three tries to pass twelfth grade history class.”

Gold gave him a withering glare.  “Then I suggest you go to a local S&M shop, buy Miss Cunningham a premade leather harness, and stop wasting our time,” he snapped.  “Shibari is about patience.  Meditation.  Sensation.  It’s about fulfilling your partner’s mental needs, not just her physical ones.  If you’re not up to the task, you can leave.”

Eddie balked at that.  Of course he was up to fulfilling Chrissy’s needs!  What have the past couple months been about, if not showing her that?  Even when he’s the one calling the shots, it’s all, one hundred percent, in deference to her every whim.

But that was just it, wasn’t it?  This wasn’t just about sex anymore.  Well, to be fair, it was never just about sex for Eddie.  Not with her.  He was a willing slave to her desires in every possible way.  Anything she asked of him was hers.  She wanted diamonds?  He’d buy out every jewelry store on Rodeo Drive.  Pleasure?  He’d lick her from head to toe for the rest of his life if she let him.  She wanted him to settle down, quit the band, and have kids?  That was the fucking dream.  Well, not the giving up music part.  That part would hurt him, bone-deep.  But he’d do it.  He’d burn his guitars and use the tour bus to ferry their brood to and from soccer practice and dance recitals if it made her happy.

And right now, she wasn’t happy.  It was evident in the haunted look in her eyes two weeks ago, when he’d told her that one of her parents had cancer.  It was clear the following weekend, when she’d stayed over Saturday night.  She’d barely picked at dinner, hadn’t so much as touched her breakfast.  And yeah, they’d had sex.  She’d initiated, actually, and Eddie had happily obliged her.  She’d been into it - really into it, pawing and pleading and begging for more - and it wasn’t until afterwards, when she’d burst into heartrending sobs, that it occurred to him that she was using sex as a distraction.

Which, okay, he’d admit it - that kinda stung.  It made him feel sorta… used.  But he got it.  So he pushed his own feelings aside, held her until the tears stopped, and then pulled out his stash and got her absolutely ripped out of her mind.  After all, that was what he was good at, right?

She hadn’t called him Daddy all weekend.  He wasn’t such a prick that he was gonna force a scene on her when she was going through hell, but… fuck, he missed it.  Missed being able to take care of her.  Even when he was inside her, it felt like she was miles away.

And still, he called her every night, after she got home from work.  And every day, she talked less and less, until his throat was going hoarse from trying to keep the conversation flowing.

Finally, last night - Wednesday night - he got the hint and refrained from calling.  Obviously she needed a break from his antics.  He could deal with that.  Yup.  He wasn’t so pathetic that he needed to talk to her every day.  He was a grown-ass man, not a dweeby teenager with his first crush.

And when the phone rang, a full hour after he usually called her, he definitely didn’t almost drop the damn thing in his haste to pick it up.  And his knees didn’t buckle with relief when he heard her voice.  Nope.  Not even a little.

“I’m… sorry I’ve been such a basket case lately,” she’d said, her voice as small and stifled as it’d been back in Hawkins.  “I don’t want you to think I don’t wanna talk, because I do, but… I just…”

The small, watery sniffle he heard over the phone speaker nearly broke his fucking heart.  “Oh, princess,” he’d said, his own voice achingly soft.  “Look, if you need space, all you have to do is say so.  You know that.  But otherwise… I mean… I’m here, you know?  I’m not going anywhere.”

He heard her give a quiet, hiccuping sob.  “I just… I’m barely holding it together.  I don’t know what to do, and I feel like one wrong move and I’ll just… fall apart.  Break into a million pieces.”

It was that little thing that had given him the idea.  If Chrissy was afraid of falling apart, then he’d just have to tie her together until she felt solid enough to keep herself whole.  Maybe it was a little on the nose, but… fuck, he didn’t know what else to do.

So… yeah.  If it came down to that, he could endure a history lecture.

He ran his fingers through his mess of hair with a sigh.  “Sorry, man.  I’m listening.”

And with that, he listened as patiently as he could as Gold taught him more than he ever wanted to know about the history of shibari, even going so far as to pull out books with images of early 20th-century kabuki theater to show him some of the knot work done there.  

“This is about more than just good sex,” Gold continued.  “If you’re just looking to tie Miss Cunningham up and have your way with her, there are plenty of products you can buy at any sex shop for exactly that purpose.”  He licked his thin lips, his eyes drifting upward - no doubt in the direction of his wife.  “Shibari is an art.  It should be enjoyed.  Savored.  There is beauty in pain, and in submission.  You already know this.  But this is about slowing down and appreciating the little things.  The curve of her spine.  The color of her skin where the rope rubs against it.  The sounds she makes when you bind her.”

Eddie nodded.  Generally, he wasn’t a patient guy.  He didn’t like being kept waiting.  He was an immediate gratification sort of guy; when he wanted something, he wanted it now.

But, hell - he could be patient for Chrissy.  He’d waited seven years for her.  

He continued to listen as Gold moved on to the practical aspects - safety, techniques, materials.  As he went over different types of ropes, their pros, their cons, Eddie got an idea.

“What about ribbons?” he asked, remembering the first time she’d come to his place.  Remembering the whisper of silk sliding against silk as he undid the bows at her shoulders, her ankles, her hips.  He still couldn’t look at ribbons without his mouth watering.

Gold pulled a face.  “I wouldn’t - especially when you’re just starting out.  It’s not stable enough.  If the ribbon twists, or a knot slips and tightens, you could do lasting harm.”

Eddie chewed the inside of his cheek.  Well, there went that fantasy.  Shame - his girl liked pretty things: ribbons, flowers, bows.  He’d have to figure something else out.

“So what would you recommend?” he asked.

“Hemp rope is traditional,” Gold replied, “but it can be abrasive.  Some people prefer silk or nylon.”  He jerked his head toward a nearby table, where several lengths of rope were neatly coiled.  “I’ve got all three just over there.  Why don’t you see which one you prefer?”

Eddie walked to the table and picked up each coil of rope one by one.  He ran his palm over each one to get a feel for the sort of friction it would leave on the skin.  Each rope was made of thick braided cords - the type that would keep the rope from slipping out of place, but make it relatively easy to pick any knots apart.

He discounted the nylon rope almost immediately, not really liking the artificial feel of it.  Which left him with the hemp, and the silk.

His first instinct was to go for the silk.  It was soft and lustrous and pretty, with a surprising strength underneath, just like Chrissy herself.  Besides - it was the best, and Chrissy deserved no less.

But his gaze kept straying back to the plain, sandy-brown hemp rope.  Messy, unassuming, low-class, and rough around the edges.  It felt beneath her, but he couldn’t seem to stop coming back to it.

When she was younger, Chrissy had been given nothing but the best, and she’d still suffered.  The moment she was free of her mother, she chose a harder path.  She chose to go backpacking through Europe and Asia, and she chose to live a simple life among the gurus of India.

And now she chose to live in a cramped little studio apartment, and she seemed happier than ever (current predicament with her parents aside).  Maybe low-class did more for her than luxury ever did.

“This one,” he said, grabbing the plain brown rope.

Gold nodded in approval.  “Excellent choice.  Let me show you how to condition the rope.”

“Condition it?” Eddie asked.  “Like hair conditioner?”

“In a sense, but probably not in the way you’re thinking,” Gold retorted.  “Ropes made of synthetic fibers like nylon feel less authentic, but they’re also low-maintenance.  Hemp rope needs to be maintained.  I’ll show you how.”  Just then, there was a sound from above: the gurgle of water rushing through the pipes overhead.  “Wonderful - it sounds like my wife has finished her bath.  Once we’re done here, I can show you some techniques.”  Rising to his feet, Gold grabbed a black, gold-headed cane and limped toward the basement steps.  “This way, Mr. Munson.  I might be a patient man, but Belle doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Eddie eyed the older man, whose face had softened at the mention of his wife.  Clearly, as much of a hard-ass as he was, Gold had a soft spot for Belle.  Eddie could sympathize; there were things he’d do for Chrissy that he wouldn’t do for a single other person on the face of this planet.

“Lead the way, Mr Miyagi,” he said, smirking when the older man rolled his eyes.

Class was nearly over.  Dimming the lights, Chrissy lowered herself onto her mat, letting the smell of sweat and the sound of soothing music wash over her.  Lying in Savasana - Corpse Pose, flat on her back with her eyes closed, she addressed her class in a low, soothing voice.

“Inhale sloooowly through your nose… drawing love and tranquility into your lungs, letting it flow through your body… and eeeeeexhale through your mouth, letting all the cares of the day seep out of you.  You are loose.  You are relaxed.  You are at peace.”

She wondered if her class could hear just how not at peace their teacher was.  She gave off the impression of being pliant and relaxed - she had a lot of experience controlling her body language and concealing her true feelings - but in reality, she was as stiff as a board.  

For two weeks now, she’d been frozen, paralyzed, unable to decide what to do.  And she was no closer to a decision now than she’d been when Eddie had given her the news about her parents.

“Feel yourself rooted to the ground - nurtured, anchored, cradled,” she continued.  

She’d nearly called Jacob at least a dozen times over the past two weeks to ask him for answers.  Her brother dropped by Hawkins every other weekend to visit them, after all.  If things were so grim that nobody had seen either Philip or Laura Cunningham around town in months, there was no way they could keep that from their son for long.  And she trusted her brother; they called each other every week or two to catch up, and he still hadn’t breathed a single word to her parents.  As far as they knew, she was still out of the country.

She could call Jacob.  And if she were a good daughter, a good sister, a good person, she would’ve done it already.  

But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.  If she called her brother, she’d ask about their parents.  If she asked, then she’d know.  And that was intolerable.

She’d imagined how the conversation would play out a million times.  In every shower, during every yoga class, for hours every night when she tried to fall asleep.  With every bite of food she forced herself to swallow, eyes watering with effort and fear and frustration.  Every plate she scraped into the trash, barely touched.  Every despairing pinch at the soft, gentle curves at her hips and thighs - curves she’d learned to love until recently.

“Muscles loose, mind at peace, let yourself simply be,” she concluded, falling silent to let her students float on the waves of gentle music playing on her boom box at the front of the studio.

When she imagined Jacob giving her the bad news - Dad has cancer - even just the anticipation of grief was enough to have her doubling over in pain.  But when she pictured her brother saying that it was their mother who was sick… the feelings were more complicated.  There was sadness, of course, but also anger, confusion, relief.

And worst of all, a sick sense of satisfaction.

And that was wrong of her, wasn’t it?  Good people didn’t wish death on anybody - especially their own mother.  If some sick, twisted part of her wanted Laura Cunningham dead… what did that say about her?

She’d tried to find peace in yoga, as she’d been doing for years now.  She tried embracing forgiveness for her own sake.  But every time she did, it sat in her stomach, heavy and unwieldy, like she’d somehow swallowed whole a rock the size of her head.

Eventually, the music faded to silence, indicating that the class was over.  Sitting up to address her students, Chrissy was surprised to see Eddie through the window, out in the gym proper.  His hair was pulled back from his face in a half-tail, curling around shoulders left mostly bare by his black tank top.  A bouquet of white and pale pink flowers rested in the crook of his elbow, and his hands were fidgeting with something she couldn’t quite make out.

When their eyes met, his entire face lit up in a boyish grin.  Butterflies in her stomach, Chrissy offered a giddy smile of her own, along with a finger-wiggling wave.  Then she turned away so she could focus on wrapping up her class.  Flipping the lights back on, she praised everyone for their hard work and wished them well.  While most of the class rolled up their mats, a couple of her students came up to her with questions: how to clear the mind, how to make this position easier on carpal tunnel, whether that pose would help with hip pain.

Before the last students left the room, Eddie was already walking in.  A few people glanced over their shoulders curiously as they passed; obviously with his skintight torn jeans, studded leather belt, and combat boots, he wasn’t here to limber up on a yoga mat.  But one look at the flowers in his hand and the grin on Chrissy’s face told them everything they needed to know.

When he made to reach for her, Chrissy backed away with a scrunch of her nose.  He clutched at his chest as though she’d stabbed him straight through the heart.  “Five whole days without seeing my girlfriend, and now I can’t even give her a hello kiss?  Miss Cunningham, you’re gonna be tried at The Hague for war crimes.”

Girlfriend.  She was his girlfriend.  She still had a hard time believing it.  “Baby, I’ll kiss you all you want later,” she promised.  “But I just spent the better part of eight hours teaching yoga in a sweaty gym.”  She gestured down at herself, at her mint-green floral halter top and cream-colored harem pants.  There were dark blotches of sweat all over.  “I stink.”

Leaning down to tuck his face into the crook of her neck, he inhaled deeply through his nose, making her giggle and shove him back.  “Smell pretty good to me,” he said.

“Eddie,” she laughed, slapping him playfully on the shoulder.

His eyes widened in a parody of perfect innocence.  “What?  I’m serious.  I could roll in you like catnip, princess.”  And with that, he proceeded to bend even lower to nuzzle his face into her (sweaty, sticky) chest, making a ridiculous purring noise with his tongue.

“Alright, alright, let me shower first, you animal,” she insisted, extricating herself from his grasp.

He rolled his eyes, lips still curling mischievously.  “Fine, fine, but make it quick.  I’m going through withdrawals over here.  I’m fiending over here, I tell you.  Fiending!”

Chrissy wasn’t inclined to argue.  As much as she loved the luxury of a long, hot shower, the curtained shower stalls at the gym didn’t offer much in the way of privacy.  Besides, management frowned upon staff taking them up for too long when customers needed them.  So her shower was a quick lather up and rinse.  She didn’t even bother getting her hair wet, even though it was a sweaty mess.  Knowing Eddie, he wouldn’t care.

Also, knowing Eddie, he’d just be making another sweaty mess of it, anyway.

When she emerged from the women’s locker room in a fluttery, thigh-length baby blue dress, shiny black patent leather shoes, and knit cream leg warmers, she searched the gym for her boyfriend.

Boyfriend, she reminded herself, and it never failed to send a giddy thrill through her.

He was sitting over by the entrance, flowers still at his elbow and a drink from the smoothy station in the cup holder on his chair.  In his hands was a length of plain brown rope, maybe a foot or two long, which he was knotting and unknotting over and over.  His brow was low over his eyes, his tongue poking out through his lips in concentration.

Chrissy leaned against the wall with her overnight bag slung over one shoulder, content to simply watch him.  She’d always enjoyed watching him when he was completely focused on something.  Whether it was writing a new song, or painting a miniature for his Dungeons & Dragons game, or recording with the rest of his band - when he was completely focused on something that interested him, he became utterly consumed by it, to the exclusion of everything else.

People back in Hawkins all thought that Eddie was dumb.  And, Chrissy could guiltily admit to herself, she’d sort of thought the same thing, once, when Jason had made snide comments about Eddie repeating the twelfth grade yet again.  But once she got to know him, she realized: Eddie wasn’t stupid; his brain just… worked differently.  If people’s brains were like a flashlight, offering a single, illuminating beam of light, then Eddie’s had a prism placed to it, scattering the beam in all different directions.  People were so obsessed with his inability to give off a single, focused shaft of light that they ignored the rainbows he cast in every direction.  And then, when he did manage to focus, it was with a laser-like precision unlike anything “normal” people could put out.

Being the focus of Eddie’s attention was overwhelming.  It sort of reminded Chrissy of the ants Jason used to burn with a magnifying glass, or the hot glare of the spotlight at the child beauty pageants she was forced to compete in.  Only instead of hurting or exposing her, the heat of his regard felt like a purifying flame.  It burned away the parts of her that did her harm - her doubts, her self-loathing, and the constant urge to shrink herself to fit whatever box someone wanted to force her into - but leaving her no less whole for it.

It took nearly three whole minutes for her to figure out why knot-tying was his newest obsession.  It had nothing to do with music or games.  The only other thing he seemed to spend time on was… her.

Oh.

Her face flushed hot as she realized what the knotwork was for.  Apparently, Eddie had taken her request to try shibari seriously - so seriously that he was teaching himself how to do it.  She’d sort of figured they’d fumble through their first time together.

But no.  Without a word from her, Eddie had taken it upon himself to learn.  For her.  And yeah, for great sex, but… their sex life was already fantastic.  He didn’t need to go through all this trouble, and he knew it.

God, loving him was so easy.  It didn’t come with pain, or any sort of quid pro quo.  It was as natural, as beautiful, as inevitable as the sunrise.

Before she knew it, she’d crossed the room to stand a mere six inches in front of him.  And still, he was so absorbed in his task that he didn’t even look up - not until she reached out and cupped his rough, stubbly cheek in her palm.  When she did, he tore his big brown eyes away from his rope to look up at her adoringly.

“Ready to go home?” she asked softly.

He was on his feet so fast she hardly even saw him move.  “Absolutely.  You wanna get something to eat first?”

Chrissy hesitated.  After a long day teaching yoga, her body really needed food. Her stomach felt like it was trying to gnaw its way through her spine.  But the idea of eating - of having Eddie see her eat, and how much - made her want to curl up in a corner and die.

A thousand easy, well-practiced lies rested on the tip of her tongue.  She wasn’t hungry.  She’d had a big lunch.  It was her coworker’s birthday, and she’d had a big slice of cake.  She was feeling a little queasy.  She’d eat later.

But one look in Eddie’s wide, worried eyes, and she knew: he’d already guessed.  And if she lied to him right now, he might even drop it.  

But she found, to her surprise, that she didn’t want to lie to him.  She hated herself enough as it was for being weak enough to relapse into restricting her food again.  But shutting him out would only make her feel worse.

So instead, with an agonized look, she simply told him: “I… I can’t.”

For a long time, he simply looked at her with those dark, perceptive eyes of his.  Just when she was sure he was going to argue, he broke eye contact with a shrug.

“Okay,” he said, offering her the bouquet of flowers, which she accepted.  His other hand wrapped around the white paper cup in the cup holder.  “Want a sip of my smoothy?” he asked, far too casually.

Chrissy’s eyes filled with grateful tears.  Eddie knew that calling her out would only make her more ashamed of herself than she already was.  And so would making a big deal out of getting her to eat.  He was coaxing her to take care of herself without making a big deal about it.

She had to do her best to meet him halfway.

She nodded, accepting the proffered cup.  “What’s in it?” she asked cautiously.

“Uhhh… yogurt, banana, peanut butter, and chocolate,” Eddie recited.

Chrissy snorted.  “Eddie, that’s the least healthy thing on the menu,” she said.  Still, she took a ginger sip, rolling the creamy, icy-cold drink on her tongue before swallowing.  Even as her body demanded more, her rising panic forced her to keep to a single, tiny sip.

“Yeah, and it’s almost as tasty as the worst milkshake I’ve had in my life,” he retorted.  When she tried to hand it back, he waved her off.  “Hold onto it for me.  Gotta keep me from drinking and driving.”

It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what he was doing. By having her hold it on the drive back to his place, he was inviting her to have as much of it as she wanted - as much as she could convince herself to drink.  As much as she could convince herself she deserved to drink.

Hell, he’d probably bought it with the intention of letting her have the whole thing.

Raising the straw to her lips, she sucked just enough for the chocolatey drink to reach the end of the straw, but not enough to get any in her mouth.  Tonguing at the straw, letting herself taste the cool smoothy, she tried to tell herself that it was enough.

Thirty minutes later found the two of them at Eddie’s place, in the living room.  Chrissy was doing some stretches that made Eddie excruciatingly aware of just how fucking flexible she was.  Jesus, she could practically get her knee up behind her head.  Meanwhile here he was, about as flexible as a drumstick.

While she limbered up, Eddie prepared four lengths of hemp rope.  First, he looped the middle of one over a hook he’d installed on the wall, just last night, about a foot over his head.  Twisting it into a loose, two-stranded braid, he grabbed an end in each hand and pulled one end, then the other, alternating so the twisted rope rubbed against itself.  The pulling helped to loosen any kinks or bends in the rope, and the friction forced the rope to shed any stray, bristly strands that might itch or irritate Chrissy’s sensitive skin. 

Once he’d given all four ropes the same treatment, he carried them over to the couch for the next step.  To his surprise, Chrissy had taken off the pretty blue dress she’d been wearing just a few minutes ago, leaving her in just a pair of pink cotton panties with lace trim.  

He was starting to wonder whether she even owned a bra.  Not that he was complaining; as far as he was concerned, trapping her perfect tits in a prison of elastic and lace was a crime akin to painting lipstick and eyeliner on the Mona Lisa.

For a few minutes, he simply sat on the couch and watched her, eyes hungrily roaming her smooth, sun-kissed skin as she knelt on all fours, arching her back slowly up and down.  The movement made her panties ride up her pert little ass in a way that made him want to rip them off and bury his face between her legs.

But that wasn’t the game they were playing today.  Today, he needed to be patient.  Giving himself a quick squeeze through his jeans to take the edge off his arousal, he dug through his pocket until he found his metal flip lighter.

With her strawberry blonde hair falling in her face in waves, he could almost believe she was paying him no attention.  But the warm, pink flush on her neck and shoulders told another story.

And, of course, Chrissy was looking, and had been looking the whole time.  While she was doing clamshells to loosen her hip flexors, she’d watched him doing… whatever it was he was doing with the rope on that hook.  The play of long ropes of muscle under his black tank top practically had her mouth watering.  And now she watched as he pulled out a metal lighter, running the flame over each rope.  There was a slight crackling sound as stray strands glowed orange before crackling into ash, and the smell of burning grass filled the room.  Once he was done there, he procured a rag and a bottle of jojoba oil.

Chrissy couldn’t help but be impressed.  When she’d first learned about the art of shibari, she figured it was just a matter of finding the right rope and just tying someone up with it.  It never occurred to her that so much work went into maintaining them.

And Eddie learned all of that.  For her.  To make her happy.  Trust him not to do anything halfway.  

“Why jojoba oil?” she asked, giving up all pretense of stretching in favor of watching Eddie as he poured a dollop of oil on the rag.

“Makes the rope softer, and it’s good for the skin,” he said, arms working as he worked the oil from the rag into the first rope from one end to the other.  “Lucky for you, the guy who taught me this stuff wouldn’t let me escape a lecture.  Otherwise, my answer would’ve been, ‘uhh, cuz that’s what I was told to use.’”

Chrissy simply watched him for a few moments, taking in the look of concentration on his face, the careful way his fingers massaged oil into every inch and crevice of the ropes.  He really seemed to want to do this right, to make sure that she was safe and comfortable as they approached uncharted territory for the both of them.  And yeah, that was what any halfway decent Dom would do for his submissive.

But a Dom wouldn’t call her every night just to talk about music and movies and yoga and books with her.  He wouldn’t invite her to join weekly phone calls with his uncle, whom he loved like a father.  He wouldn’t declare them together for a magazine interview, knowing he’d be recognized.  

There was no denying it: he cared for her.  He’d shown it to her in dozens of ways.  Maybe… if she played her cards right… maybe one day, he’d love her the way she loved him.

“Need a hand with that?” she finally asked.

“Nah, I got it,” he said, glancing up from his work to smile at her, his deep brown eyes crinkling at the corners.  “But, uh, why don’t you head to my room?  I’ll be there in a few.”

“Okay,” she said, rising.

“Bring the flowers with you,” he added.  He snapped his fingers, as if remembering something.  “You remembered your camera, right?”

She nodded.  “I packed it as soon as I got off the phone with you last night,” she said.

“Awesome.  Bring that, too.”

Eddie watched her leave, waiting ‘til he heard his bedroom door open before he released the breath he was holding.  As much as he missed having her in the room with him - and wasn’t that pathetic, missing her when she was in his bedroom, waiting for him to fuck her - watching her nubile form bending in all those configurations was hell on his libido.  He needed a breather to get himself under control.  The last thing he wanted to do was rush through things and wind up hurting her.

Eddie was no newbie when it came to kinky sex.  He’d doled out harder spankings than he’d ever given Chrissy, going until the sub’s ass was a deep, mottled purple.  He’d facefucked someone ‘til they were practically choking, til their face was slick with a mix of sweat, tears, and drool. He’d done wild, extreme things, both giving and receiving, chasing an ever-elusive high in a lifestyle that had been growing stale and unfulfilling until Chrissy came around.

And yeah, he’d done plenty of bondage.  Handcuffs, leather cuffs, neckties, silk scarves - he’d tied and been tied by his fair share of partners.  But never with rope, and never their entire body.  If he did it wrong, he could do real, lasting damage to Chrissy.  If that happened… Jesus, the guilt would eat him alive.

He knew firsthand how easy it was for things to go wrong, and how dangerous it was when they did.  He’d kill to keep Chrissy from experiencing that.

He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to remember yesterday, with Gold and his wife, Belle: the former showing him rope techniques, different patterns, and safety, while the latter offered him feedback when a knot was too loose or too tight, and a warm, encouraging smile when he got it just right.

You’ll do fine, she’d told him when the lesson was done.  Just check in with her.  Pay attention to her body language.  And trust her to tell you what she needs.

He could do that.  God knew he had tons of practice.  

Once the ropes were all prepped, he headed to the bedroom, stopping briefly in the kitchen to grab a couple bottles of water and the pair of medical scissors he’d bought earlier today.  Hands full, ropes coiled over his shoulder, he pushed the bedroom door open.

Chrissy was waiting for him, wearing that pretty pair of pink panties, a smile, and nothing else.  Her coppery-gold hair tumbled around her shoulders, looking as soft as silk.  She gestured toward his bed.

“New sheets?” she asked.

He eyed his mattress, which was currently covered in sheets the package described as “robin’s egg blue.”  They were a change from his usual sheets, which were usually dark jewel tones when they weren’t simply black.

Did he buy them just for today, just imagining the pinkish glow of her skin and the gold of her hair against the pale blue backdrop?  Maybe.  But he wasn’t about to admit that.  

So instead, he dropped his burden onto the bed.  “C’mere,” he said, beckoning her toward him.  She came forward with a flattering hurry, placing her outstretched hand in his and squealing when he tugged her forward.  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she tugged him down for a kiss he was happy to give.

Rising up on tiptoe, Chrissy kissed Eddie hungrily.  His strong arms wrapped around her waist, chasing the chill of the air conditioned room away.  One rough, guitar-calloused hand ran up and down her back, making her shiver while the other reached down to grasp her ass.  Making an excited sound in her throat, she licked eagerly into his mouth.

It was so easy to forget that she could kiss Eddie any time she wanted.  Years of pushing her feelings for him down made for a hard habit to break.  But here, in his home, in his arms, with his lips on hers, the frightened girl curled up in a corner of her mind was able to unfurl her limbs a little and take a tiny, minute breath.

Eddie didn’t make her problems go away.  Sooner or later, she’d have to make the decision whether to face her demons, or bury her head in the sand and hope they went away.  But being with him made that choice feel a little less daunting.  Made her feel less alone.

For several moments, she was content to simply kiss Eddie, to explore his mouth with lips and teeth and tongue.  To plunge her fingers in his untamed mane of chocolatey curls, or run them over the breadth of his shoulders.

But she wanted more.  She’d missed him this week.  She missed him every week when her life called her away from the sanctuary he offered.  She needed to be close to him, to taste his breath mingling with hers, to feel him moving over and inside of her.

Hands sliding down his arms to his elbows, she tried to tug him toward the bed, but he resisted with a chuckle.

“Impatient, princess?” he asked with a grin, his lips swollen from her kisses.  “Much as I’d love to throw you on the bed and absolutely defile you, I’ve got other plans.”

Oh.  The ropes.  Right.  A thrill of excitement shot through her as she remembered why they were here.  He was going to be tying her up, turning her body into a work of art just like the illustrations she’d seen.  The women and men pictured in her shibari book had looked so beautiful, bodies positioned in artful poses, faces twisted in a mix of agony and ecstasy.

After the past couple of weeks, she needed that.  Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her ability to look at her body and see beauty in its imperfection.  Maybe… maybe giving control of her body over to Eddie would bring that back.  He called her beautiful.  Maybe… under his control… he’d help her to see it again.

Eddie watched expression after expression flit over Chrissy’s face.  Nervousness battled with excitement for control, and underneath, a desperate sort of yearning - a hunger for something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Placing his hands on Chrissy’s shoulders, he positioned herself in front of his dresser - or, more specifically, in front of the large mirror on top of his dresser.  

“Stay right there, princess,” he ordered, slipping into a cool, collected - but not detached - state of mind as easily as he slipped his rings on every morning.  “I want you to look.  You need to see this.  Can you do that for me?”

She nodded.  “Yes, Daddy.”

A smile tugged at his lips.  Daddy.  She was ready for him to take care of her.  His little girl was so brave, putting herself in his hands even when her world threatened to fall apart.  She deserved to be taken care of after everything.  

Reaching for a length of rope, he folded it exactly in half, forming a loop in the middle.  Pressing the loop to the middle of her spine, he wrapped the ends around her middle and threaded them through the loop.  He pulled the ends through, slowly, inch by inch, until the rope was pulled taut around her ribs, just under her breasts.  His fingers ran over the doubled up cord, checking for any snags or twists and finding none.  The rough fibers offered a delicious contrast to her creamy skin under his fingertips.

“How’s that feel, princess?  Too loose, too tight?”

Chrissy considered.  She was no stranger to rope bondage, though she wouldn’t say she was an expert, either; her travels didn’t exactly take her to sex boutiques with a wide selection of bondage wares.  When she wanted to be tied down, rope was what they had on hand.  So the abrasive texture of the rope on her skin was nothing new.  Neither was the dank, grassy smell of the hemp - a smell that, even years apart and half a world away, had never failed to make her think of the boy with the kind brown eyes, curly hair, and easy smile.

But just that single loop of rope around her waist, tight enough for her to feel the bite without quite hurting, made her feel… calm.  Centered, in a way she hadn’t felt in weeks.  With a single lasso around her middle, she felt utterly under Eddie’s control.  Her arms and legs were still free, but she may as well have been a puppet dancing on Eddie’s strings.

“Good,” she whispered.  “It… it feels good.”

She watched the two of them in the mirror as Eddie wound the cord around her again.  His face had that same look of concentration she’d seen when he was practicing with the length of rope at the gym: brow furrowed, tongue poking out between his teeth.  But unlike then, he wasn’t focused on his hands.  His deep brown eyes were fixed on her.

This time, when he knotted it at her back, he pulled the tails through quickly.  It sent a trail of fire over her skin, drawing a shuddering gasp from her lips.

He chuckled.  “Like that, sweetness?” he asked, before draping the ends of the rope over her right shoulder.  

He circled around to her front, blocking her view of them in the mirror.  Chrissy’s hands gravitated to Eddie’s arms, gripping his biceps as he looped the cord around the braided band under her breasts, drawing it through so slowly that she could feel each individual bump of the twisted strands catching against one another.  Then the rope went over her left shoulder, to her back again.  Chrissy relinquished her hold on Eddie’s arms reluctantly.  But watching him in the mirror as he made another knot at her back offered a small consolation.

Eddie looked admiringly at Chrissy’s reflection as he pulled the rope tight, forming a V from her shoulders down to the valley between her breasts.  The band underneath was pulled upward, lifting her tits more clearly to his gaze.  Reaching over her shoulder, he cradled them in his hands, rolling her silver-studded nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.  Chrissy moaned and leaned her weight back against him.

“So pretty,” he murmured, bending low so his lips brushed her ear.  “God, so fucking pretty.  My pretty girl.”

The sweet, pink blush on her cheeks intensified.  Before he could react, she was turning in his arms and raising herself up on tiptoe.  Her lips captured his in a needy, demanding kiss that brought sudden awareness to the hard-on he’d been doing his best to ignore.

He allowed himself to sink into the kiss for nearly a full minute.  But with her pressed so closely against him, her curious hands already searching for his belt buckle, he knew he couldn’t indulge her for long.  So he reluctantly pulled back, breathing hard as he fought for control.

Chrissy whined in protest.  Her fingernails dug sharply into his shoulders, making him hiss.  “Daddy, please,” she begged.

“You’ve gotta be a good girl for me,” he admonished.  “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

She nodded eagerly.  Yes, yes she could be good for him.  “Yes, Daddy,” she said.

“Good.  Gotta keep those naughty little hands to yourself before I tie ‘em behind your back.”

The idea sent a flutter of excitement through her.  She liked that idea.  She liked it very much.  Even without that tantalizing incentive, she’d have an easier time stopping the sun from setting than keeping herself from touching him every time and everywhere she could.

So as he continued to work, circling around her back and front while he knotted, looped, and coiled the rope around her breasts and shoulders, she took every opportunity she should to touch Eddie, doing her best to convey her adoration and gratitude through her hands.  Her fingers flexed around his biceps.  Her palms skimmed over his chest.  Her thumbs rasped over his nipples where they poked out against his black tank top.  And Eddie wasn’t any better, letting his hands linger over her sides, her breasts, her belly.

When he moved lower, extending his knotwork back to the gentle, soft curve of her stomach, he lowered himself to his knees to reach.  Chrissy’s hands gravitated to his mane, her fingers burrowing in his messy curls and scratching gently along his scalp.  Eddie moaned low in his throat, raining open-mouthed kisses on her belly, her hips.

And still his hands busily worked the ropes around her, tying a pattern of looping diamonds down her front that ended at the nip of her waist.  He tied the last knot off with a flourish before rising to his feet.

“How’s it feel, baby girl?” he asked, tweaking one strand slightly.  Already, he could see lines of pink forming where the rough fibers rubbed against her skin.  And judging by the catch in her breath when she squirmed, she likes the feeling.

Her small, delicate hands smoothed over the harness he’d wrought for her, taking in every small detail.  Eventually, both hands settled at her sternum, where a twist of the rope formed the bottom of a diamond.

She looked up at him, and he felt absolutely gut-punched by the look of raw vulnerability and sheer, unadulterated happiness there.

“I like it,” she said softly, sweetly.  “It feels… safe.  Thank you, Daddy.”

How could he not kiss her after that?  Eddie was a lot of things, but a creature of self-denial wasn’t one of them.  Swooping in, he captured her lips with his, harder, more demanding, greedily taking everything she offered.

It wasn’t long before he felt her hands under his shirt, the cool fingers on his stomach making his muscles clench reflexively.  He let her have her way, palming her ass with one hand while the other came up to play with the silver barbell in her nipple.  She broke the kiss with a gasp, but quickly took advantage of the situation and tugged his shirt up over his head.

The moment his curls cascaded around his shoulders, Eddie pounced, grabbing Chrissy’s arms and holding them behind her back.

Bending low, he growled in her ear: “Thought I warned you to keep your hands to yourself, little girl.  Since you can’t control yourself, I guess I’ll have to tie them for you.”

Chrissy arched into him, rubbing her tender breasts against the flat planes of his chest.  “I’m sorry, Daddy.  It won’t happen again,” she whimpered.  Her cheeky smile revealed her words for the bald-faced lie they were.

“You’re right.  It won’t.”  Transferring both her wrists to just one of his hands - god, his hands were so much bigger than hers! - he reached over to snag a second length of rope from the bed.  Then, he got to work tying her arms together behind her back, wrapping the rope into thick bands at her biceps, elbows, and forearms.

Since Eddie was ducked down behind her, Chrissy couldn’t see him in the mirror.  Neither could she see what he was doing; she could feel the slide of the rope against her skin, but that was it.  Sometimes, he did it at a slow, sensuous glide, other times with a quick yank that made the fibers burn her and the loose ends slap, whip-like, against her skin.  The anticipation of not knowing what Eddie would do left her trembling with excitement.

With nothing else to look at, she watched herself in the mirror.  For the past couple of weeks, she’d been unable to look at herself for more than a second or two at a time.  Remembering her parents left her feeling like that tiny, helpless teenager she used to be.  Looking at herself through her mother’s eyes, all she could see was imperfections and failures.

Now, though.  Now, she thought she just might be seeing herself the way Eddie saw her.  His ropes were a plain tan color, completely unremarkable except for the beautiful patterns he tied them in.  And underneath was just… her.  No jewels, no makeup, no ribbons or patterns to distract or cover up the parts of her body that fell short of perfection.  The ropes didn’t shape, or alter; or conceal.  They just outlined what 2-/ there.  What had been there all along.  

Her body was here.  It was strong, capable of carrying greater burdens than one might think.  It was flexible enough to bend when it needed to without breaking.  And it was resilient enough to endure abuse and privation and still come out whole.

It was beautiful.  She was beautiful.

Tears of gratitude splashed down her cheeks.  And though she tried to keep quiet, she must have made noise, because Eddie quickly stood and wrapped his arms around her from behind.  She could feel the rigid line of his cock pressing against her back, not thrusting, just… there.

“Hey,” he murmured, burying his face in her hair and inhaling the floral scent of her shampoo.  His heart hammered behind his ribs.  He knew that tears were a part of submission, of letting go and being vulnerable, but the fact remained: Eddie hated seeing Chrissy cry.  It never failed to tear him up inside.  “If you need to stop…”  He trailed off, his fingers going to the last knot on her arm, ready to unravel the bindings at her word.

Chrissy shook her head, and one of her feet came back to hook around his calf, holding him closer in the only way she could.  

“No,” she replied hoarsely.  “I’m good, Daddy, this is… this is good.”

Looking into her eyes, he could tell that that wasn’t true.  There was a hesitation there that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“Princess…” he said warningly.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping.  “I, um.   I’m getting pins and needles in two of my fingers.”  He felt her wiggle them against his stomach.  “But it’s fine!  It doesn’t hurt or anything.  I can deal with it.”

Eddie bit back a sigh of his own.  Obviously, Chrissy wasn’t going to grow out of minimizing her own needs overnight.  But man, did he look forward to the day when she did.  Far more was at stake than her mere comfort; if he’d done this wrong, she could wind up hurt.

“Let me be the judge of that,” he said.  Kneeling down, he inspected his work.  Sure enough, the rope had slipped a bit, tightening around her left elbow in a way that was probably pinching a nerve that led down to her fingers.  Taking her ring and pinky fingers in his hand, he wiggled them.  “These the ones that are bugging you?” he asked.

“Um… yeah.  But I don’t want to be any trouble.  You don’t need to - “

“Yes I do,” he cut her off.  Unknotting the rope, he undid about half of his work and started over.  

By now, he was starting to get the hang of things, so it went by a bit quicker.  Still, his hands would probably be a bit sore by the time all was said and done.

“I wanna get one thing straight with you,” he said while he worked.  “None of this is any trouble.  Okay?  I’m not doing this because of some bullshit sense of obligation.”

“But… you only learned all this because I asked you to,” she said in a small voice.

“I mean… yes and no,” he admitted.  “All of this never would’ve occurred to me to try.  So yeah, I’m doing it to please you.  Because pleasing you is what pleases me.  Yeah, this is work, but it’s work I enjoy doing.”

Slowly, tentatively, that dainty foot came back to caress his calf again.  “Promise?” she asked softly.

He wrapped one warm, reassuring hand around her ankle.  “Promise,” he assured her, before going back to what he was doing.  “Now get that foot back on the ground, or I’ll tie your legs up, too.”

If anything, her foot lingered, straying higher up the inseam of his jeans.  He grinned.  So, she wanted to play that way, did she?  Well, he was happy to oblige.

Once he finished redoing her arm binding, he turned her around and lifted her up, his hands full of her perfect ass.  With a happy shriek, Chrissy wrapped her legs around his waist and leaned into him.

“Shh, baby girl, I won’t drop you,” he promised.  He could feel her pussy pressed up against his stomach, hot and soaking wet through the gusset of her panties.

Chrissy let him carry her to the bed, feeling simultaneously nervous and safe.  With her arms tied behind her back, she had no way of saving herself if he dropped her.  

But she wouldn’t need to save herself, because he wouldn’t drop her.  She knew that deep within her soul.  She may have saved herself from many things - her mother, her own self-destructive tendencies - but with Eddie, she would never have to.  He would keep her safe.

With that in mind, she let herself relax both inside and out.  Her legs relaxed around his hips.  She trusted him not to let her fall.  Once she was completely pliant in his arms, Eddie lowered her gently to the bed.  Once she was laid out, a pillow under her back and her hair fanned out on the pale blue sheet, Eddie tapped his lip as he pretended to think.

“Now, I’m pretty sure I told you to keep those feet to yourself,” he said, grabbing her big toe and tweaking it.  “And I told you what would happen if you didn’t.  Didn’t I?”

She nodded, squirming happily under his gaze.  “Yes, Daddy,” she said.

“That’s what I thought.  I’m starting to think you like getting all tied up.”  His hand skated up her inner thigh; she let her legs fall open so he could see just how much he affected her.  His eyes honed in on where she was wet and aching for him, and he licked his lips.  Then he met her gaze again.  “Is that it?  Is my little girl just dying to be tied up and used like the sweet slut she is?”

Oh god.  She nodded frantically, words lost in the mist that was filling her mind.  Her hips shifted again, begging for his attention.

Eddie grabbed up the last two ropes and made quick work of tying her upper calves to her lower thighs, forcing her knees to stay bent.  Chrissy writhed against her bonds, reveling in the titillating burn of the rope as much as the feeling of being almost completely immobile.  Now she was well and truly helpless.  The thought didn’t frighten her like it should have; rather than feeling trapped or imprisoned, she felt… cradled.  Protected.  With Eddie’s ropes and his hands holding her together, she could let go without fear that she might fall apart.

So she did, surrendering herself to the wonderful, floating feeling inside of her head.

Eddie noticed the exact moment that she submitted to him fully.  He got up from the bed, wanting to do one more thing before he fucked his beautiful girl senseless.  Chrissy moaned weakly in protest, and he shushed her, promising that he wasn’t going far.

Retrieving the camera, scissors, and bouquet of flowers, he returned to Chrissy’s side.  One by one, he snipped the flowers off their stems.  Once he finished, he started to arrange them all over Chrissy: blooms of pale pink and white, some tucked into the ropes crisscrossing her chest while others were draped over her smooth skin.  Any loose petals he found were placed in the golden waves of hair spread out on his mattress.

Once he was done with that, he grabbed the camera, stood back and simply looked at her.  He’d always thought Chrissy was beautiful.  From the day he’d seen her in her cheer getup at their middle school talent show, he was a goner for her.  It’d broken his heart back in high school when he realized that she didn’t see herself the same.

But now, lying in his bed, tied up like the gift she was, strewn with flowers, she took his breath away.  Her chest heaved with each quiet, gasping breath.  A red flush spread from her face all the way to the tops of her perfect tits, making the pink flowers look almost white by comparison.  That and the yellow of her hair contrasted with the blue of his sheets.

But all of that paled in comparison to the joy and adoration in her gorgeous gray eyes.  

The first picture he took was only of her face.  He wanted to remember the way she looked at him forever.

He took more, picture after picture of her lying in his bed, waiting patiently for him.  When he moved to adjust himself where he was straining painfully against his jeans, Chrissy’s bleary eyes sharpened and followed the movement.  She licked her lips.

That was all the temptation Eddie needed.  Putting the camera down, he undid his belt and fly and took himself out with a relieved sigh.  His cock was nearly purple from how long he’d been turned on, and a clear bead of precum formed at the tip.

Pants still around his knees, he climbed back on the bed and threaded his fingers in Chrissy’s hair.  Soon, he had her mouth poised a mere inch from his cock.  Chrissy opened her mouth and tried to take him inside.  His hands in her hair held her still.

“Do you have a thank you for Daddy?” he asked.

She nodded eagerly.  “Thank you, Daddy,” she slurred.  When he didn’t immediately give her what she wanted, her tongue darted out to get a taste of him.  Her moan drowned out his hiss.

“Greedy little slut,” he admonished.  Taking his shaft in one hand, he slapped her, first one one cheek, then the other.  “Go on.  Show me how good you are.  You wanna be good for me, don’t you, princess?”

Chrissy nodded, her eyes fluttering as he guided the warm, heavy weight of his cock into her mouth.  Yes, she wanted to be good for him.  She wanted to be his everything.  Anything of hers that he wanted, he could have.  Without question.  Giving herself over to him, she let him guide her movements with his hand.  Even with so much control over her every move, he was careful not to make her gag.  Unable to speak, she did her best to convey her feelings for him, painting him in her love and adoration with her lips and tongue.

Not content just to take - not from Chrissy, who gave and gave and gave - Eddie reached down to toy with her through the drenched material of her pretty pink panties.  He’d forgotten to take them off before tying her legs up, he realized with a wince.  Still - they’d manage.  Pushing the drenched gusset to the side, he sank his middle finger into her hot, molten depths.  A flutter of his thumb against her clit drew a whine from her throat that vibrated along his cock.

Soon it became a competition between the two of them, of who could pleasure the other more.  And given how completely gone for this girl he was, Eddie would normally be at a disadvantage.  But Chrissy couldn’t move as freely as normal, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey as she was.  Besides, Eddie was chewing ruthlessly on the inside of his cheek to keep from blowing his load in the hot cavern of her mouth.

Soon Eddie added another finger, then a third.  He could feel her juices coating his fingers down to the knuckle.  His rings would smell like her pussy for days, a reminder of what happened today.  And for Chrissy’s part, though she didn’t give up on sucking Eddie off for all she was worth, soon her attention was divided as she desperately fucked herself on his fingers as much as her bonds would allow.

When he felt the first flutters of her impending climax, he pulled his fingers free.  He pulled her off of his dick at the same time.

Chrissy gave a piteous moan.  “Daddyyyyyy,” she whined, tears slipping from her eyes to fall into her hair.

“Shhh, it’s okay.”  In no time flat he was between her legs, jeans and boxers still around his thighs.  Lining them up, he pushed inside of her, eyes rolling back in his head as he was engulfed in the warm, welcoming, blissful heat of her cunt.  He kissed her desperate little cry from her lips.  “See, I’m here.  Right here.  Not going anywhere.”  

He pulled out, achingly slowly, so that only the tip of him remained inside her.  Unable to wrap her legs around him to keep him anchored to her, she tightened her thighs around his hips.

“Please,” she begged, tears running down her temples and soaking her hair.  “Please, Daddy, please, please, please.”

His hips snapped forward, and soon he was fucking her in earnest, his hair swinging on either side of his face with every thrust.  “There we go,” he panted, his words punctuated with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh.  “There we go.  Nice and full.  You like that, princess?”

“Uh-huh,” she grunted.  

“Yeah you do,” he sighed, giving her nipple a sharp pinch that had her bucking into him.  “Gonna cum all over my dick, aren’t you?”  

She gave an obscene groan.

“Yeah, I know you are,” he said.  “Gonna make a mess all over my brand new sheets.  And later on I’m gonna turn you over my knee and turn your ass red, and you’ll mess ‘em up all over again.”  Her breath caught and her eyes went as wide as saucers.  She was close.  The knowledge of it had his balls drawing up tight to his body.  “Cum for me, Chrissy.  Show me how much you like being a good girl, all for Daddy, yeah, all for me.  Cum.  Cum now!”

Her climax hit her like a tidal wave.  Unable to move her hips in counterpoint to his, or dig her nails into his back, the agonizing ecstasy poured out of her in loud, bawling screams as she burst into tears.  Eddie followed her over with a shout, filling her willing body with hot spurts of his seed.

Head spinning, Chrissy continued to weep quietly into Eddie’s hair.  He calmed her with gentle kisses, sweet praise, and reverent touches - which only made the tears fall anew.  He was being so good to her, so patient, so kind, and she loved him, she loved him, she loved him.

Soon his fingers were at one of the knots at her knee.  Slowly, carefully, he released first one leg, then the other, making sure to flex and straighten each one to get the blood flowing properly.  Next, he flipped her on her side so he could give her arms the same treatment.

When he reached for the tie at her waist, she placed a hand over his to stop him.

“Leave it on?  Please?” she requested softly.  “I… it makes me feel safe.”

Eddie peered into her eyes.  They were red-rimmed from crying, and looked even more exhausted than earlier.  But there was firmness there, too.  

She wanted this.  And he could deny her nothing.

“Okay,” he simply said.  Lying back down on the bed, he held her close, breathing in the smell of crushed flowers, skin, and sex.  It just might be his favorite smell in the world.

He must’ve dozed, because next thing he knew, Chrissy was shaking his shoulder.  When he opened his eyes, the room was full of shadows.

“Daddy?” she asked, her voice soft and achingly insecure.

His eyes snapped open.  Chrissy had never called him that outside of a scene before.  And while normally hearing that title in her sweet, needy voice would get his dick hard in seconds, she didn’t sound like a turned on submissive looking for her Daddy to take care of her.

She sounded terrified.

Barely able to make out any of her features in the darkness of the room, he cupped her cheek in his palm.  “What’s wrong, sweetness?  What do you need?”

He could feel her trembling beneath his palm.  “I - I need - I haven’t - I can’t - “  

“Hey, hey, hey.”  Eddie pulled his girl close, tucking her head under his chin.  His arms wrapped tightly around her shivering form, the weave of rope scraping against his arms.  “You can tell me.  Whatever it is, you can tell me,” he promised.

“I… I… I’m hungry,” she blurted with a sob, as if she’d just confessed to a murder.  

Confused, still half-asleep, Eddie nodded.  “Okay…?  Well, let’s get you something to eat.”

“I can’t,” she cried, and oh fuck, he felt the warmth of tears on his shoulder.  “I - I know I n-need to, but I’m so scared!  Ev-every time I pick up a p-p-piece of food, I can just hear my mother sc-scolding me!  I can’t get her out of my head!”

Not for the first time, Eddie was filled with the urge to hunt down Laura Cunningham and rip her throat out with his bare hands.  The fact that she still had so much power over Chrissy, even after Chrissy had traveled the world and freed herself, made Eddie’s gut churn with loathing.  This beautiful, kind, brave girl deserved only good things.  Instead, she’d spent her entire childhood at the mercy of a monster.

Apparently Wayne had been right.  Chrissy might be doing better, but she was wounded.  And hearing about her parents had ripped those wounds wide open.

“Oh, sunshine,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.  “What can I do?  How can I help?”

As far as he was concerned, the best way to save his princess was to venture into the monster’s lair and slay it.  Unfortunately for him, that would land him jail time.

It’d be worth it.  But he somehow doubted Chrissy would be down for conjugal visits.

But Chrissy, it seemed, had an idea.  “I… I don’t know if it’ll work,” she admitted.  “Maybe it’s just a waste of time.  But… maybe you could… feed me?”

“Yeah, food was definitely part of the plan,” he said.

She shook her head.  “No, I mean… I feel like maybe… it might not be so bad if… the food comes from your hands.”

Even in the darkness of the room, he could see her blush.  Which meant she must be turning almost purple with humiliation.  He couldn’t allow that.  He wouldn’t.  

“Yeah, sure.  Let’s get you fed, sunshine.”

And that was how, about fifteen minutes later, the two of them were in his kitchen in their underwear (and, in Chrissy’s case, her rope harness), putting together a plate of finger foods to snack on.  There wasn’t a ton to pick from, but Eddie was able to scrounge up some crackers, a block of cheddar he sliced up, some grapes, and a bag of pita chips and dip.  

When Eddie held a grape up to her mouth, she stared at it like it was the barrel of a loaded gun.  How many times had she been punished for eating too much, or eating the wrong thing, or even for the water weight that inevitably came before her period?

Chrissy Anne, you open this door right this instant or I’ll gut you like the fat little piggy you are!

“Chrissy.”  Gray eyes met brown, dark and lovely and wide with concern.  “I won’t force you.  This is your choice.  Not mine.  Not hers.  Yours.”

Something inside of Chrissy broke.  Her fingers grasped the ropes at her sternum, holding onto them like a lifeline.  Tears pouring down her cheeks, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth.

The grape hit her tongue, smooth and cool.  And next to it, the rough pad of Eddie’s thumb.  Chrissy closed her lips around both.  Careful not to bite the hand that fed her, Chrissy pierced the skin of the grape with her teeth.  Cool, sweet juice burst over her tongue.

She chewed.  She swallowed.  And the world didn’t turn upside down.  Laura Cunningham didn’t appear, as if by magic.

A cube of cheese came next.  And then, a cracker.  Eddie slowly fed her morsel after morsel, showing her more patience and grace than Chrissy was capable of showing herself.  And when he offered her a chip with dip, and a glob of dip fell on her chest, he didn’t let her apologize - he just ducked his head, and cleaned her off with a lap of his tongue.

Her tears continued to fall.  But where before they were tears of fear and self-loathing, now they were tears of relief and love.

When she couldn’t bring herself to eat any more, she returned the favor.  Eddie might not have the same hangups about food as she did, but he deserved to feel as cherished as he made her feel.

Eddie accepted each bite, nibbling and kissing her fingers affectionately every time.  When they were finished, she finally let Eddie take the remaining rope off of her.  She didn’t feel like she was going to fall apart anymore.

She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring.  But with Eddie in her corner, maybe she could finally find the courage to confront the ghosts of her past.

Chapter Text

Chrissy’s studio apartment was not conducive to pacing.  It took maybe five steps to get from one end to the other, even with her short stride.  When the couch was folded out into a bed, she would either have to sidle around the flimsy mattress or crawl over it.

Still, she managed.  Her agitated pacing was going to wear right through the carpet if she kept it up.

Three times, she picked up the phone and hung up.  The first time, she didn’t even wait for the dial tone.  The second, she managed to dial the area code she’d grown up with.  The third time, she dialed the whole number, made it through the first ring, and slammed the phone back on the receiver.

The fourth time was the charm.  Chewing anxiously on her lower lip, she dialed the number for her little brother’s dorm and let it ring.

A familiar voice answered - the voice of a man about four years younger than her.  “Hello?”

Her mother’s voice echoed in her head.  Always smile when speaking on the phone, Christine.  They can hear it in your voice.

She plastered a grin on her face.  “Hi, Will, it’s Chrissy.  How’s it going?”

“Oh, uh, hey, Chrissy.  Thing’re good.”  An awkward beat.  Then, “How about you?  Everything okay?  Jake says he hasn’t heard from you in a while.  He won’t say so, but I can tell he’s worried.”

Guilt made her stomach roil.  Every week - every one, even when she was living in India - she and Jacob would talk on the phone.  At first, she’d made a point of calling her little brother to make sure that their parents didn’t heap abuse on him once Chrissy was gone.  She needn’t have worried; he was their boy, and could do no wrong.  

Once she realized that he would never endure what she had (a fact which filled her with equal parts relief and resentment), she kept calling to make sure that he wouldn’t be a Jason Carver in the making.  But he was a quiet, sensitive boy.  Sports and popularity meant little to him.

Now, she called because she genuinely liked hearing from him.  Which was why avoiding his calls these past few weeks really tore her up inside.

But what else was she supposed to do?  She needed to know the truth about their parents, and she didn’t dare call them herself.  Just the thought of talking to either of them made her sick.

Which meant she had to ask Jacob.  If he didn’t know about the cancer, then she’d be breaking the news to him in the worst possible way.  And if he did… it meant that he was keeping it from her.

“Yeah, sorry,” she replied through a grit-toothed smile.  “I’ve been busy.”

Will hummed noncommittally.  “Well, here he is.”

There were murmured voices over the receiver, and the sound of the phone being passed over.  Then, she heard her brother’s voice.  “Chrissy?  What’s up?”

“Not much.”  She started pacing as far as the short phone cord would allow.  She sighed.  “Y’know what, that’s a lie.  I heard something a few weeks ago.  Something about mom and dad being in the hospital?”

“Shit.  You heard that?” Jacob asked.  Then, “Wait, is that why you haven’t been answering my calls?”

So he knew.  Good.  That was… good.  It meant she didn’t have to break the news to him.  She swallowed back the feeling of hurt betrayal rising in her throat.

“You know?  Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded shrilly.  Her fingers gripped the phone receiver hard enough to make the plastic creak.  

“I don’t know!”  There was a ragged sigh.  “Jesus, Chrissy, what was I supposed to do?  I can’t even mention Mom without you going all quiet and weird.  How the hell was I supposed to tell you she’s dying?”

Chrissy’s legs gave out under her; she landed on the couch with a dull thump.  “Mom’s dying?” she asked weakly.

She could perfectly picture the look of abashed guilt on her brother’s face.  “You didn’t know?” he asked, sounding every bit as shaken as she felt.

“All I knew was that someone saw Mom and Dad in the oncology ward of Hawkins Memorial,” she replied.

“Oh.  Well… crap,” Jacob muttered.  “Look, Chrissy, I - I wasn’t keeping it from you.  Not on purpose, I mean.  I just… didn’t know how to tell you.  Or if you’d even want to know.”

“I know.”  She was still angry.  But her little brother wasn’t the type to play games.  He’d learned the rules of survival in the Cunningham household, same as she had.  But he’d been nothing but honest with her since the day she’d left Hawkins.

“So… now that you know… are you gonna go see her?”

“I…”  How was she supposed to answer that?  She couldn’t begin to figure out how.  “I don’t know.”

“Okay.”  

It was obvious from his tone that her answer disappointed him.  It was on the tip of her tongue to promise that she’d grab the first plane out of L.A.  Old habits died hard.  

Before she could do that, Jacob continued.  “Well, just… think about it, okay?  She doesn’t have long.”

“I will,” she promised, meaning it.  She doubted she’d be able to think of anything else.

After they said their goodbyes, Chrissy hung up.  Shoulders hunched (we don’t slouch, Christine, you’re not a hunchback), she wrung her hands until her knuckles cracked.

Her mom was dying.  Her mom was dying.  Her mom was dying.  Her mom was dying.  The thought echoed in her mind, twisting itself into all different shapes to try to fit into something that made sense.  But no matter how she approached it, it didn’t seem real.

A giggle burst free from her lips.  Horrified, she clapped a hand over her mouth.  Why was she laughing?  She shouldn’t be laughing.  Cancer wasn’t funny.  It was a horrible disease that tore families apart.  Laughing about this was sick.

The guilt and shame should have sobered her.  But if anything, they only made her laugh harder.  She covered her mouth with both hands to stifle her giggles, shoulders shaking.

She wasn’t sure when the tears started.  But suddenly she was sobbing, gasping and heaving as warm tears spilled over her hands.

Curling up into a ball on the couch, she gave herself over to the deluge of emotions, letting them sweep her away.  Anger and grief and worry swirled around her.  And underneath, a sickening, savage sort of satisfaction.

Her mom was dying, and part of her was happy about it.  She was a terrible person.  The thought only made her cry even harder.

When her tears ended, she was left feeling wrung out, both physically and emotionally.  Her head throbbed, her face was sticky with drying tears, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up and fall asleep, safe in Eddie’s arms.

The phone was in her hand to call him before she knew it.  Halfway through dialing his number, she stopped.  

Was she being too needy?  Eddie had to be getting sick of her by now: taking care of her, dealing with her emotions, talking her through her hangups with food.  She was trying to be better, she really was!  But hearing that one of her parents was sick had transported her right back to Hawkins in 1986, when she was a sad, scared girl with a painted-on smile.

Back then, Eddie had been the one to save her: from her mother, from her own fears, from the social nightmare of Hawkins High.  Now that the world was ending once again, she wanted nothing more than to turn to him for comfort.

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

But her mother’s lessons weren’t easily unlearned.  The urge to hang up the phone - to smile, stay quiet, and make herself as small as possible - was nearly overwhelming.  

She didn’t want to be a burden to Eddie.  He’d already done so much for her.  Besides - he had his own life to live.  A successful music career with an upcoming album release.  Album releases meant interviews and photo ops.  And concerts - a tour that would take him away from her for god only knew how long.  Concerts with sexy metalhead groupies eager to climb all over a guy like him.

Jealousy, white-hot and vicious in its fury, blazed through her.  Eddie was hers.  Onstage, the lead singer of Corroded Coffin might give himself to the music, his bandmates, their fans.  But off of it, Eddie Munson was hers, just as she was his.  How could they be anything else, when she gave herself over to him so completely?  When she let him see her at her weakest, when everyone else was shooed away with a fake smile or a snapped word?

He was her boyfriend, wasn’t he?  She could talk to him.  Even if she wasn’t her normal bubbly self, she could talk to him.

Resolute, she finished dialing his number.

He answered on the second ring.  “H’lo?”

“Eddie?”  Her finger curled anxiously around the phone’s curly cord.

“Hey, sunshine!  What’s up?”  She could practically hear him leaning back on his couch.  Or in his bed.

“Nothing much.  I just wanted to hear your voice,” she replied, trying to keep her own cheery and bright.

Apparently, she failed.  “Chrissy?  Everything okay?”

She took a deep breath, held it, and reminded herself: she wasn’t being a burden.  Eddie wanted her to be honest.

“It’s my mom,” she said.

The phone was silent for ten whole seconds.  “What did she do?” he finally asked, his tone glacial.

Chrissy shook her head, even though Eddie couldn’t see it.  “No, no!  She didn’t do anything!”  She swallowed hard against the aching lump in her throat.  “I just… um…  I called Jacob today about - about the hospital, and… it’s her.”

“Oh.”  Another silence, shorter this time.  Then, “Shit.  I’m… I mean… that really… fuck.”  He sighed.  “I dunno what to say, Chrissy.”

She huffed mirthlessly.  “That’s okay.  I guess I don’t really know how to feel, so…”

“Yeah.”  She heard him shifting around.  “So… what can I do?  Do you wanna come over?  Or want me to come over to your place?  I just had an edible, but if I leave now I can get there before it kicks in.”

“Is there any left?” she asked plaintively.  Her thoughts might be in turmoil, but floating on a gentle high and cuddling up with Eddie sounded like heaven.

“For you?  Always.  Even if I had to hork it up like a momma bird feeding her baby,” he joked.

“Ew!  Eddie, that’s gross!” she cackled with an undignified snort.

“Well, lucky for you, I’ve got a piece of fresh-baked, 100% undigested brownie you can have,” he retorted.  “So - my place or yours?”

“Mine, please,” she said, hoping he didn’t mind.  While she was starting to think of his place as a sort of home away from home, it wasn’t really her space.  Everything was decorated and laid out how Eddie liked it.  Which was fine, really!

But her studio apartment, cramped as it was, was her space.  The romance novels on the shelf were ones she’d picked out herself.  The tchotchkes on the shelves had been collected over the past seven years - cheap souvenirs of her time traveling and rediscovering herself.  The photos on the cork boards had been taken by her and her friends: memories of backpacking through Europe, of the ashram in India, and more recently - of her and Eddie. 

Right now, she needed the reminder of just how far she’d come.

“I can be there in ten,” he told her.  “Should I grab takeout on my way over?”

She heard his unspoken question: did he need to coax her to eat?  And the truth was, that was a loaded question.  She’d been having trouble eating lately, even with his help.  But she was trying.  Her fridge and pantry were full of small, nourishing snacks she could nibble on when a meal was too much to face.

“We can order delivery when you get here,” she answered.  “I just wanna see you.”

“I’m there,” he said, hanging up.

Resting the phone back in its cradle, Chrissy wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged them close.  Eddie would be here soon.  In maybe a half hour, she’d be able to wrap herself up in his arms, bury her face in the tangle of his hair, and let herself forget all about Laura Cunningham.  Even if only for a night.

God, she didn’t know where she’d be without him.  She couldn’t handle this by herself.  Yeah, she had Jacob, but… he hadn’t received the brunt of Laura’s abuse like Chrissy had.  And their parents were still paying his way through college.  Of course he was more inclined to see things their way.

Eddie was close enough to the situation to have seen what she went through, but far enough away not to get trapped in the pitfalls and booby traps of the Cunningham family.  He might be massively biased in her favor, but it felt nice to have someone on her side for once.

When Eddie came to pick her up from work that Friday, she was practically bursting with anticipation.  All day while she was at work, her mind lingered on the paper shopping bag currently stowed away in her locker.  For the last three days, she’d stopped at different stores to pick up everything she needed for tonight: at the pharmacy, at a pet supply store, and of course, at the sex shop she and Eddie now frequented more weekends than not.  She peeked into her locker between yoga classes to make sure the bag didn’t somehow, magically, go missing.

He arrived just as she was wrapping up the last class of the day.  It was clear at a glance that he was just as excited about their evening as she was; his leg was vibrating, his fingers fidgeting with his rings.  Even his hair seemed wilder than usual, fluffing out as though he’d somehow managed to create an electric current from excitement alone.

Hiding a smile, Chrissy said goodbye to her students.  She deliberately turned her back on Eddie and took a drink from her water bottle.  When she turned again, he was crossing the studio with his long-legged stride, an eager grin on his face.

She stopped him with a high-browed look.  “Did I say you could come in?” she asked quietly.

His grin widened, and he quickly wiped it away.  His attempt to look contrite was half-assed at best.  “No,” he mumbled.

“That’s what I thought,” she murmured back.  “Go wait for me in the car.  I’m gonna go shower.  Don’t move ‘til I get there.”

“Yes, mistress,” he said, heedless of who might overhear.  The title sent a thrill of excitement through her.  Lunging forward, he pressed a quick kiss to her lips.  Backing off with an unrepentant grin, he loped off to the exit before she could get a word in.

Chrissy watched him go with narrowed eyes.  She hadn’t told him he could kiss her.  He’d pay for that.

Picking up her rolled up yoga mat and gym bag, she hit the shower.  Originally, she’d planned to wash up quickly and get out.  Her legs and armpits were already shaven, her hair freshly washed and conditioned, which meant all she had to do was wash off the sweat of the day.

But their scene hadn’t even started and Eddie was already pushing boundaries.  He had to be punished.  And right now, she could think of no better way to punish him than taking her sweet time in the shower and letting him stew on his own excitement.  So she did exactly that.  For five minutes, she simply stood under the stream of hot water, letting the heat melt the tightness from her muscles.  Then, she took her time getting clean, soaping and rinsing each and every nook and cranny.  She dried herself off with just as much time and care.

For a moment, she considered dithering even more.  She could pick up the towels left around the locker room, or order the both of them a smoothie.  But after some thought, she nixed the idea.  As tempting as tormenting Eddie was, she just wanted to be near him.

Besides, she thought, smirking at the sound of jingling dog tags when she pulled her shopping bag out of her locker, it wasn’t good to leave your puppy alone in the car for too long.

When she reached Eddie’s car - taking the time to say goodbye to all of her coworkers first - she could see him pouting inside.  He must’ve heard the click of her white, strappy heels on the pavement; he looked up at her approach, his jaw falling open when he caught sight of her.

Chrissy had put a lot of thought into today.  Eddie had been so wonderful since the very first day they found each other again.  He’d looked out for her safety at the party.  He’d pampered her when her period made her feel bloaty and crampy and gross.  He’d even learned a whole new skill just for her, and helped her through one of her bad food days!  Over the course of just a couple months, he’d done more for her than any of her other boyfriends ever had.  Combined.  He was amazing as both a Dom and a boyfriend.

When he came over the other night, they didn’t have sex.  They didn’t rent movies or have a romantic candlelit dinner.  They ordered Thai food, got high, and watched infomercials until they fell asleep on her lumpy pull-out couch.  With his head pillowed on her small breasts, her mind riding the gentle buzz of the piece of pot brownie she’d eaten earlier, all she could think about was the last time she’d had him over.  How she’d gotten uncharacteristically aggressive with him, and how beautiful it was when he went pliant under her hands.

She wanted to give him that again.  Not just to pay him back for everything he’d done for her… though she’d be lying if she said that didn’t factor into it.  No, the main reason was simpler: he made her feel safe, cared for.  Loved, even if he might not be ready to call it that.  She burned to make him feel the same way.

But she’d never taken the dominant role in a scene before.  She understood the mechanics, of course, but there was a wide gulf between seeing something done and doing it yourself.  What if she did it wrong?  She’d die if she disappointed Eddie - or worse, hurt him.

”Stop worrying so much,” he’d told her the night before last when she fretted about it on the phone with him.  “You know the important parts.  Safe words, communication, body language, blah, blah, blah.  You get that.  The rest is just… like being onstage, I guess.”

“Onstage?” she’d asked skeptically.

“A really damn small stage,” he allowed.  “Y’know, just… like, figuring out what your audience wants, and giving it to them with your own personal style.”

That had helped.  She tried to keep it in mind when she hit the sex shop before work yesterday.  She’d passed by the paddles and floggers without a second glance.  Unlike her, Eddie didn’t really get off on pain.  Some hair pulling, the occasional spank, sure.  But when they discussed boundaries a few days ago, he made it clear that he liked to be dominated with commands, rather than with pain.  He wanted to serve her in any way she saw fit.  

The thought sent a shiver of excitement down her spine.  But she didn’t let herself forget her reason for doing this: to make Eddie feel cared for.  So she’d found most of what she needed in the pet play section of the store.

The only other stop she made was to the lingerie section.  She looked through things she thought Eddie would like: racy underthings in see-through lace, leather corsets, a latex catsuit so tight she doubted she’d ever get out of it if she put it on.  

In the end, she wound up leaving with… nothing.  Nothing felt right.  Sure, Eddie would probably want to take all of those things off of her with his teeth, but none of them felt like her.  

Finally, she went with something simple: a cream-colored peasant dress she dug out of her closet, with off the shoulder sleeves and a fake corset waist.  Her hair fell around her shoulders in soft, rose-gold waves.  With a little mascara and lip gloss, she felt every bit the princess Eddie called her.

Climbing into the car, Chrissy leaned over and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s still-open mouth.  Like a fairy tale, her kiss seemed to awaken him from his trance; threading his ringed fingers through her hair, he pulled her in for a deeper kiss, long and slow and properly improper.

When they were both breathless, they broke the kiss.  Neither went far; as they gave each other quick, sweet pecks on the lips, Eddie mumbled a verse against her mouth.  

“There my pretty lady is, River-woman’s daughter - slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water.”

Chrissy couldn’t have named the poem he quoted if she tried.  It didn’t sound like a lyric to a metal song, which meant it was probably a nerd thing.

She giggled, pressing more kisses to his mouth.  “You.”  Kiss.  “Are.”  Kiss.  “Such.”  Kiss.  “A dork.”  Kiss, kiss.

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” he retorted.

“Yeah, you are.”  Reaching behind him, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled.  His head fell back without a fight.  This close, she could see his pupils blow out in the deep chocolate of his eyes.  “Are you ready to be my puppy?”

His throat bobbed.  “Yes, Mistress.”

Giving in to temptation, she bent her head and ran her tongue over his Adam’s apple.  He gasped.  Chrissy stifled a moan as the prickle of his stubble against her tongue sent a jolt of arousal through her.

Just as quickly, she released him and settled back into the passenger seat.  She set the paper bag at her feet.  Only when her seatbelt was fastened did she look at him.

“Take us home,” she said, her voice husky in her ears.  “And if you’re a good boy, I’ll give you a treat.”

With a jolt, the car was off in a squeal of tires.  The smell of burnt rubber filled the air as they took off down the street.

Chrissy shrieked and grabbed the overhead handle.  “Eddie, slow down!” she yelped.

“It’s alright, I’ve driven this road a million times,” he said, drumming on the steering wheel with his hands.

Her eyes narrowed.  Oh, no he didn’t.  His eagerness was cute, but she was not going to risk them getting pulled over - or worse, in an accident.  Looping one of his curls around her finger, she tugged sharply.

“Slow down, Puppy,” she ordered, hearing an edge to her voice she’d never heard before.

Eddie immediately released the gas and slowed down to a more reasonable speed.  He had the good grace to look sheepish.  “Sorry.  Got carried away for a sec.”

“Impatient,” she remarked.  Twirling her finger around that same curl, she gave it another pull.  “We’ll have to do something about that when we get home.”

Eddie shivered.  His hands tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles went white.  But he didn’t speed up.

When they got to his place, she had him play music on the living room stereo loud enough that they’d be able to hear it in the bedroom.  Then she told him to sit down on the living room couch while she got ready.  “I’ll call you when I’m ready for you,” she promised as she disappeared into his bedroom, shopping bag in hand.  

“I’ll be waiting,” he called after her.

With a secretive smile, Chrissy bypassed the bed, stepping daintily through the room to reach the en-suite bathroom.  First things first: she plugged the drain in the bathtub and turned it on, letting it fill with comfortably hot, steaming water.  Winging off a prayer of thanks for Eddie’s enormous bathroom - she’d never be able to pull off what she had in mind in her tiny one - she started pulling items out of her shopping bag, one by one, and laying them on the counter.

First, three large bottles: shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, all in scents Eddie would hopefully find suitably masculine.  Even if he didn’t, she was going to insist that he start using this instead of that three-in-one shampoo/conditioner/body wash that left his skin dry and his beautiful hair damaged.

Next, everything a girl needed for a good mani/pedi.  There was a cream lotion and pumice stone to smooth and soften his skin.  A nail file and buffer block.  Cuticle cutters.  And a serum to strengthen his nails.  More than once, she’d seen him break a nail and gnaw the jagged edge off with his teeth.  Just thinking about it made her cringe.

A bottle of lotion, another of leave-in conditioner, and a wide-toothed comb quickly joined the rest of the items.  She quickly lit a brand new candle and set it on top of the toilet, inhaling with a satisfied smile as the room was filled with the warm scent of vanilla.

Last but not least: a headband sporting a pair of puppy ears in a shade of chocolate brown that almost matched his eyes, a metal butt plug with a tail to match the ears, and a black leather collar with silver studs.

Shutting off the faucet, she called out: “Okay, I’m ready!”

Eddie was there in seconds, an eager grin on his face.  His eyes darted around the room, taking in the items she’d laid out.  A look of apprehension crossed his face.

“Uhh… look, I’m down for whatever you’ve got in mind, but…”  He picked up the cuticle trimmers from the counter, snipping them experimentally.  “I have no clue what half this stuff is for.  You’ll have to show me how to use ‘em.”

Perching on the edge of the toilet, she giggled.  “Oh, Puppy,” she said, smiling up at him, all lean legs and wiry arms and wild curls.  “These things aren’t for me.  They’re for you.”

He froze, eyes wide, like a deer paralyzed by the headlights barreling his way.  “For me?”

“Yup.  This stuff is gonna make you clean and soft.  You want to be clean and soft for your Mistress, don’t you, Puppy?”

His throat bobbed, and his gaze returned to the various bottles and other items on the counter.  A softly hungry look pulled at his features.  He nodded.  “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy.”  Inside, Chrissy breathed a sigh of relief.  She hadn’t been sure he’d actually want this.  Lots of guys would call this weird, or frivolous, or just plain girly.  

But she wanted to spoil Eddie a little, and this was the best way she knew how.  He was no stranger to self-indulgence.  He had the money to buy himself good food, good drink, and good weed, and he wasn’t shy about indulging in them.  She couldn’t hope to compete on that front.

What she could do was pamper him.  When she was stressed out, nothing made her feel better than having an at-home spa day that left her warm, soft, and smelling sweet.  She hoped he’d enjoy it as much as she did.

And if he didn’t… well, she doubted he’d complain after a good orgasm.

“Go on.  Strip for me,” she encouraged.

She half-expected him to scramble out of his clothes, sacrificing dignity for the sake of haste.  But he didn’t.  Raising his hands over his head caused his tank top to ride up, exposing the flat plane of his belly and the trail of dark curls that disappeared beneath his waistband.  He pulled it over his head and chucked it into a corner.  His studded belt was next.  He slid the tongue sensuously through the buckle before pulling the whole thing sinuously through the belt loops on his ripped jeans.

There was no sexy way to take off his combat boots, but he tried anyway, bending over with locked legs to untie them and pull them off.  The jeans he slid slowly down his legs, followed by his boxers.  Chrissy watched the show breathlessly, drinking in the sight of his lanky body with its splashes of dark ink.  His cock was already half hard and twitching with interest.

When he stood up, waiting expectantly, she wagged a finger at him in admonishment.  “Ah-ah-ah, Puppy, I said strip.  Puppies don’t wear jewelry.”

Wordlessly, he pulled it all off: the heavy lock pendant around his neck, the chunky silver chains at his wrists, and last of all, the thick rings he always wore.

When he was entirely bare, something seemed to come over him.  His head bowed, his eyes lowered, and his posture collapsed in on itself.  Without all the trappings of nonconformity and rebellion, his stubborn facade fell away to reveal something more vulnerable.

Chrissy watched, head tilted, as she considered this new side to Eddie.  She’d seen him naked before, of course.  Generally, though, he only took his rings off when he was getting in the shower or turning off the light to go to sleep.  It was less a conscious thing and more of something he did out of necessity.

Eddie wore rebellion in the same way Chrissy wore makeup: as a mask to hide his true self.  But where Chrissy tucked her flaws away where nobody could see them, Eddie put his on display with devil horns and a blinking neon sign.  Take the mask away, and he was every bit as exposed as she was.

She knew the trust it took to bare herself like that.  She vowed to be worthy of that trust.  Eddie would be safe with her.

Standing, she gestured toward the tub.  “Get in, Puppy.  It’s bath time.”

Eddie climbed into the tub, accepting Chrissy’s hand to steady him as he did.  Instead of reclining, like a person normally would, he lowered himself onto all fours.  His big, soulful brown eyes looked up at her, seeking her approval.

“That’s my good boy.  That’s my Puppy,” she praised, caressing his cheek in reward.  His eyes fluttered closed as he nuzzled into her palm.  His stubble rasped against her skin, making her chuckle.  “Let’s get you all cleaned up, hmm?  And if you’re very good, you’ll get a treat when we’re done.”

Eddie nodded wordlessly.

Chrissy started with his hair.  Eddie had gorgeous hair, but the way he treated it was an absolute crime.  That two-in-one shampoo and conditioner kept the worst of the split ends at bay, sure, but it left his hair coarse and rough.  It was a miracle his curls weren’t reduced to pure frizz.

Dipping a cup into the hot water, Chrissy carefully poured it over Eddie’s head.  She guided his chin up with her fingertips so the water wouldn’t drip into his eyes.  Once his hair was soaked through and clinging to his neck and shoulders, she popped the top on the bottle of shampoo.  Squeezing some into her palm, she worked it into a lather.  Her fingers massaged the suds into his scalp, working the shampoo in as she worked the tension out.  

Eddie sighed and moaned softly at her ministrations.  His face was a mask of rapture: eyes closed, lips upturned in a blissful smile.

Once the shampoo was rinsed from his hair, she moved on to the conditioner, coating every last strand liberally with slick lotion.  The scent of sandalwood from the conditioner mixed with vanilla from the candle, blending into a fragrance that was as intoxicating as it was soothing.

When his hair was rinsed clean, water dripping down his shoulders and arms, a calculating look crossed Eddie’s face.  Before Chrissy could react, he shook his head back and forth like the puppy he pretended to be.  Chrissy shrieked as she was splashed with water.

She bapped him on the nose with two fingers, laughing when he wrinkled his nose in response.  “Naughty puppy.  Now you’ve got your Mistress all wet.”

That was truer than Eddie knew.  There was an unexpected joy in taking care of Eddie, in making him feel good that went beyond just the sexual.  Pampering herself with a spa day was her way of showing herself love when she needed it most.  Doing the same for Eddie was only natural.

It was also making her wet. Seeing the play of wiry muscles in his back, ass, and thighs, hearing the low sounds he made when she massaged his scalp… it all turned her on.  Arousal flowed through her at a low simmer - all of the sweet ache with none of the urgency.  

Wanting to keep that feeling going, she reached for the body wash.  She squirted a dollop into her palm and quickly worked it into a lather.  

“What do you think, Puppy?  Want to be nice and clean for your mistress?”  She looked at him, waiting for an answer.  He stared up at her with those big brown eyes of his.  When he didn’t say anything, she realized: puppies don’t talk.  “Speak,” she commanded.

“Yes, Mistress, I want to be clean for you,” he answered right away.

“Good boy.”

In reward, she started to soap him up.  The body wash made his skin fragrant and deliciously slippery; her hands glided over the firm ropes of muscle on his arms, back, and thighs.  Everywhere her hands roamed, a trail of goosebumps followed.  And the sounds he made - too high to be a moan but not quite high enough to be a whine - went straight to her core.

Sliding her hands underneath him, she soaped up his chest, skimming her palms up and down his lean musculature.  Rasping her thumbs over the peaks of his nipples drew a whimper from him.  She smiled in triumph.  Teasingly, she worked a lather over his entire torso, letting her touch stray lower with each pass.  Down past his ribs.  Then his stomach.  Over the sharpness of his hip bones.  Just when she was about to touch him right where he needed her most, she retreated back up his torso.

Eddie whined in protest.  But like a good puppy, he didn’t say a word.  

“Good boy,” she murmured as she let her hands wander back down his body.  “Such a good boy for me, letting me clean him all over.”

Down her hands went, closer and closer, and back up.  Then again.  By the fourth pass, he was quivering with anticipation.

Finally, she took mercy on him.  With one soap-slick hand she encircled his shaft; the other cradled his balls.  He was already hot and hard in her palm, fully ready for her when they’d barely gotten started.

“Oh, fu - “ He choked.  His hips bucked downward, seeking friction.

Chrissy immediately withdrew her hands.  She laid a stinging swat on his ass cheek.  The bathroom rang with Eddie’s startled yelp.

“Bad puppy!  No humping!” she admonished.

Their eyes met, and they both immediately dissolved into giggles.

“Oh god, I’m sorry.  That was dumb,” she said, wiping mirthful tears from her eyes.

Eddie sat back on his heels.  Water dripped from the ends of his hair, flowing down his chest and back in soapy rivulets.  “Chrissy.  Baby.  Light of my life.  I’m in my tub pretending to be a dog so we can fuck.  I play DnD.  I’ve gone to LARP festivals, for fuck’s sake!”

“What’s a larp?” she asked.

His face reddened.  “Never mind,” he said with a quick shake of the head.  “Not important.  Uh, point is, it’s all dumb, awkward, and weird.  But it’s fun, so who cares?”

Tilting her head, she considered his words.  All her life, the opinions of others was everything.  She couldn’t run too fast, laugh too loud, smile too big, and god forbid she cried.  Her mother - 

Her heart sank into her chest at the thought of her mother.  Chrissy flinched away from it instinctively.

She didn’t need to force herself into a box to appease some imaginary judge.  Eddie had shown her that already when he put a plug in her ass in a public restroom.  That was simpler to accept.  Of course he wanted her to embrace her kinky side; he was the one directly benefitting from it!  

But this was a different type of freedom.  She didn’t need to be perfect for Eddie, she realized.  She could try something new and be bad at it without being a disappointment.  She could be silly and weird, and it wouldn’t make her an embarrassment.

Every day she spent with Eddie, she got a little closer to being someone she wanted to be.  The person she was meant to be all along.  If he stayed with her for the rest of their lives, she’d still never come close to showing him how grateful she was to have him back in her life.

Reaching out, she cupped his cheek in her palm.  His eyes fluttered shut.  He nuzzled into her hand, his stubble rasping against her palm.  His brown eyes were wide and adoring.

“You’re so good,” she murmured, carding her fingers through his sodden curls.  “So incredible, you know that?”

His grin was cocky as always, but there was a confused hesitation to it.  “I’m just me.”

To another girl, that might not be true.  He was Eddie Munson, lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin.  He had two successful albums under his belt and a third coming out in the coming months.  Interstate tours, groupies, and enough cash flow coming in to afford his own house in Los Angeles.  He had good looks, fame, and fortune.  

But Chrissy didn’t care about that.  He could be the same boy living in Forest Hills trailer park and she’d love him just as much.  

“I know,” she said simply.  She cleared her throat, getting back into character.  “Now get down.  Puppies aren’t supposed to jump up when they’re not told.”

With a grin, Eddie did as she commanded.  Chrissy picked up where she left off, running her hands over his soap-slick skin.  When her hand reached his cock, she felt it return to full hardness in her palm.  

“Remember, Puppy, no humping,” she reminded him.  Eddie snickered, and did his best to turn it into a whine.  But Chrissy didn’t miss the way his shaft twitched in interest.  

Sex didn’t have to be all throbbing members and screaming orgasms like in a romance novel, she realized.  Sex could be silly.  It could be playful.

Sex could be fun.

Keeping her one hand where it was, she slowly fondled his cock - gently caressing with her fingertips, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a firm grip or stroke.  It wasn’t until his shoulders were tense and his thighs quivering with the effort of not thrusting that she brought her other hand into the mix.  Reaching from behind, she caressed the rough-haired, delicate skin of his sac, feeling the weight of his balls in her palm.  Slowly she moved further back, toward his perineum.

Chrissy had never touched a man here before.  She knew how to suck cock, how to play with a man’s balls with just the right balance of firmness and delicacy.  But she’d never really thought to venture any further back, and none of the guys she’d been with had ever brought it up.

But she remembered a woman she’d slept with just a month before she left India.  Allie was a gorgeous, curvy redhead Chrissy had befriended at the ashram.  The two learned yoga and meditation together, explored the city together, and one night, when the homesickness was too much, they had sex.  No kinks, no power dynamics, no strings.  Just two friends finding solace in one another’s closeness, offering one another pleasure in exchange.

At one point that night, Chrissy had gone down on Allie.  With one finger in Allie’s pussy and another in her ass, Chrissy massaged the inner wall separating the two.  The curvier woman had gone wild, bucking and moaning while Chrissy tickled her clit with the tip of her tongue.  The resulting orgasm had left her friend boneless and breathless.

Obviously, the same thing wasn’t quite possible with Eddie.  But she knew enough to know that this area was very sensitive.

Sure enough, when she reached out to massage his perineum with the tips of two fingers, Eddie moaned.  He shifted restlessly on all fours, spreading his knees as far as the walls of the tub would allow.  But he still kept his hips from moving.

Chrissy lingered there for a few minutes, enjoying Eddie’s throaty groans and the quivering muscles in his back.  Shyly, she ghosted her fingers higher, up the crack of his ass.  Eddie yelped at the light, tickling touch.

“We have to clean every inch, sweet boy,” she said, soaping him as thoroughly here as everywhere else.  And with that, he was lathered from the neck down.

Rinsing him off was decidedly less sexy.  At first, she just tried running the faucet and splashing him awkwardly with the water.  Eddie let her struggle for a few minutes before snickering and wordlessly pointing up at the detachable shower head.

In revenge, Chrissy blasted him with cold water, cackling when he yelped.  Then she took mercy on him, warming the water and setting it on a gentler spray.  She ran her free hand over him as she rinsed the soap away, letting her touch linger for no other reason than she loved touching him.  And if his soft murmurs and the way he pressed into her touch was any clue, he reveled in it just as much as she did.

Once he was soap-free, Chrissy had Eddie climb out of the tub - still on all fours - so she could towel him off.  They both giggled as she rubbed him down like a wet dog coming in out of the rain.  Once the worst of the water was gone, she gentled, taking care to dry off even the oft-neglected, hard-to-reach places: behind his ears, between his fingers and toes, and the cleft of his ass.

By the time she finished blow drying his hair, Eddie was shifting impatiently on all fours.  Obviously, he wanted her to get on with it.  But she wasn’t done pampering him just yet.

Still - this was about Eddie, not about her.  She could give him something to keep his interest.  She reached over to the counter and picked up the glass plug with the fuzzy, chocolate-brown tail.  The moment his dark eyes settled on it, Eddie’s face brightened and his movements stilled.  He arched his back, eagerly displaying his ass for her perusal.

Chrissy giggled at his sudden change in demeanor.  She gave him a playful slap on the ass - hardly enough to sting.  “Spread those cheeks, Puppy,” she murmured, “and let’s get you plugged.”

In two seconds flat Eddie was face-down, cheek pressed into the bath mat while he reached back to spread himself open for her.  Snickering at his eagerness, Chrissy ran her hands admiringly over his flanks.  It was a heady feeling, having someone as untamable as Eddie under her control.  It wasn’t fear of pain or other consequences that made him so eager to please her.  It was trust.  Trust and vulnerability.

In that moment, she realized, she held Eddie in the palm of her hand as surely as her mother had once held her.  Finally, she understood what it was like to hold such power over another person.  How good it felt - how untouchable and invincible she felt.  

But unlike Laura, Chrissy didn’t want to abuse that power.  She wanted to show him that it wasn’t misplaced.  That in her hands, he was safe.

Reaching for the bottle of lube, she drizzled some down the cleft of his ass, chuckling when he twitched.

“Awww, was that cold, Puppy?” she cooed.  

Eddie answered only with a whine.  Belatedly, she realized that he was playing his part even better than she asked; puppies didn’t talk, so neither did he.  He looked over her shoulders and turned the full force of his deep, brown puppydog eyes on her.  It was almost enough to make her melt.  

Almost.

She drizzled more of the slick stuff on the first two fingers of her right hand.  While those fingers teased up and down his cleft, occasionally circling his tight hole, the other went to his cock.  He was already at half-mast when she cradled him in her palm, squeezing gently at his balls and stroking his shaft to full hardness.  Quiet, breathy noises escaped his lips with every exhale; the sound increased the pulse between her thighs from a distant ache to an insistent thrum.

Wanting to prolong the feeling for both of them, she made no move to push things further; she just kept fondling him in the front and teasing him in the back.  Eddie’s hips moved restlessly back and forth, torn between seeking a firmer touch on his cock or taking her fingers into his ass.  A bead of precum, warm and sticky, coated Chrissy’s palm, slicking her every stroke.

“Ple - Chri - “ he started, cutting himself off with a frustrated groan when he realized he wasn’t supposed to talk.  Chrissy bit her lip around a smug grin.  It took a lot to shut Eddie Munson up, and she hadn’t even ordered him to be quiet in the first place.

Still, she showed no mercy.  Eddie arched his back insistently, demanding more.  As he did, three loud cracks sounded, in quick succession, from his spine.

Chrissy winced in sympathy, unsurprised.  Whether it was behind a guitar or the dungeon master screen, Eddie had atrocious posture.  He could probably benefit from some private yoga sessions.  

She’d bring it up - after she was done playing with him.

She took pity on him, sinking her fingers into him to the first knuckle, the second, until they were buried as far as they would go.  The tight ring of muscle fluttered around the intruding digits.

“Hungh,” he grunted intelligently.

“My sweet boy,” she murmured with a smile, just before she started to slowly slip her fingers out of his hot, clenching channel.  She watched avidly as her fingers moved in and out.  Was this why men liked doggie style so much?  She could see the appeal.  “You’re taking me in so well.  Do you like it when I fill you up?”

“Uh-huh,” he groaned, skirting the edges of his self-imposed silence.

“Mm, I thought so.”  She pulled her fingers out of him.  Even as he whined in disappointment, she was already slicking up the tail plug.  She pressed the tapered tip of it to his winking hole, circling it around teasingly.  His fingers tightened around his ass cheeks, leaving white indentations under their grip.  Slowly, she started to fuck him with it, pushing it deeper with every thrust.  Once the widest part was inside, his body seemed to suck the rest of it in greedily.  “Oh, you do love that, don’t you?  Maybe we’ll have to go back to that sex shop - get me one of those hip harnesses I caught you eyeballing.”

Eddie’s hips jerked, and his cock twitched in her hand.  Cruelly, she took her hands off of him.  He groaned in frustration.

“I know, puppy,” she said.  “Let’s just take care of your paws, first.  Then you and I can play.”  Perching on the edge of the toilet, she beckoned him closer.  He crawled toward her on all fours, back arched to show off his new tail.  “Now, I’ll let you choose which we do first.  Front paws or back?”

Looking puzzled, Eddie hesitantly placed his foot in her lap.  Right away, Chrissy grabbed the pumice stone and went to work on the soles of his feet.

To his credit, Eddie didn’t question her while she worked; apart from reflexively jerking when she accidentally tickled him, he stayed perfectly still as she smoothed his feet, buffed his nails, and slathered them with a thick lotion.  At the last minute, she decided against using the cuticle clippers.  Eddie was being more than patient with her while she indulged her whims.  

When she reached for his hand, he hesitated.  She brushed a stray hair out of his face.  “What is it, Puppy?”

“My, uh, my guitar callouses,” he said, indicating where years of fingering the frets had left his fingertips rough.  “I’ve got the tour in a couple months, after the album releases.  Kinda need ‘em.”

The reminder of Eddie’s upcoming tour sent a crackle of annoyance through her.  They’d only been seeing each other for a few months; they’d been together officially even less.  And already, this album release and tour threatened to take him away from her.  For months!  Months where Chrissy was out of both sight and mind.  Months of rocking out to an adoring crowd.  Months of fans, of parties.  Of groupies.

Unbidden, the idea came to her.  She could file off his callouses anyway.  It wouldn’t stop the tour from happening, but every time he played, Eddie would be forced to think of her.

She recoiled from the idea immediately.  Punishing someone for daring to have a life apart from her… that was something her mother would do.

Taking his hands in hers, she found his callouses and pressed a kiss to each and every one.  “Okay.  Can I still lotion your hands and buff your nails?”

“I still don’t get why they need buffing, but sure,” he said.

Chrissy flushed.  She stared down at his hands while she huffed his nails.  “Sorry.  I know this is sort of weird.”

“Well, I’ve never gotten a mani-pedi mid-scene before,” he admitted.  He tilted his head thoughtfully.  “Can’t say it’s something I would’ve picked, personally.  But… I like it.  It’s very you.”

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.  The way he said it, those two thoughts weren’t separate.  He liked what she was doing because it was something she loved.

Unable to resist, she leaned forward and kissed him.  Eddie opened for her instantly, letting her plunder him to her heart’s content.  Her hands wandered his bare chest, fingertips tracing his tattoos and thumbs rasping over his nipples.  He keened into her mouth before sucking hungrily on her tongue.

Chrissy broke the kiss.  “Bed,” she panted, grasping Eddie’s hair and pulling.  His head went back, chin up, exposing his Adam’s apple.  She licked a stripe up his throat, relishing the rasp of stubble and the taste of sweat on her tongue.  Just before Eddie stood, she quickly clipped the dog collar on him and slipped the puppy ears on his head.

She hoped Eddie didn’t mind the rush.  If he were the one in control, he could stretch a scene out for hours.  She just didn’t have the kind of patience to deprive herself or him of something they both wanted.

But if the way Eddie arched his back cockily as he crawled on all fours, wiggling his ass enticingly, she didn’t have anything to worry about.

When they reached his bed, she patted the mattress encouragingly.  “Up!” she ordered.

She’d seen dogs and cats hop up on the furniture before, despite never owning one.  They always made it look effortless.  Eddie was decidedly less graceful as he hauled himself up.  But he did, grinning proudly.

“Good boy,” she said.  As a reward, she grasped the plug’s fuzzy tail and ran it between his legs, tickling his inner thighs and balls.  Immediately, his hips lowered, seeking a firmer touch.  Chrissy gave him a swift, sharp spank.  “I said no humping.  Do I have to punish you?”

He shook his head.

Reaching out, she caressed his cheek.  “You can speak.  I miss hearing my sweet boy’s voice.”

Eddie’s face went pink and his eyes lit up.  He looked like a schoolboy learning that his first crush liked him back.  “No, Mistress, you don’t have to punish me.”

“I didn’t think so.”  She laid on the bed, leaning against his dark wooden headboard and arranging herself on the pillows.  It didn’t escape her that, while Eddie was naked except for his collar and dog ears, she was still fully dressed.  She liked that - liked seeing him stripped bare for her while she obscured her body from his eager gaze.  Still, she was ready to take the next step.  “Lift up my skirt, pet.”

Eddie’s hands skimmed up the side of her calves, his callouses scraping sensuously as they went.  As delicious as it felt, though, it wasn’t what she had in mind.  

She tapped her chin thoughtfully.  “Remind me, Puppy: do dogs use their hands?”

“No, Mistress.”  Still his hands traveled further, up past her knees.  That was, until Chrissy raised an eyebrow.  Then he lowered his head in something almost resembling submission.

“I didn’t think so.  Now, I know you can do better.”

It didn’t take Eddie long to figure out exactly what she wanted.  Lowering himself onto his belly, he grabbed a mouthful of her skirt between his teeth. He worked his way up her legs, tugging her skirt up with only his mouth.  Even though it was awkward for him, he stayed low on his belly - probably so he could nuzzle against her soft inner thighs, which was exactly what he did.  The sight of him prostrate between her legs, the hem of her skirt caught between his teeth, did things to her.  By the time he reached the crux of her thighs, she was panting and her panties were uncomfortably damp.

“Take them off,” she ordered, raising her hips.

Cheekily, he swiped his tongue up her damp center.  Her thighs twitched in response.  Before she could admonish him, he caught the waistband of her underwear in his mouth and tugged them down.

“Here,” she said, patting her thigh after he finished pulling them off, “head on my lap.”  

Eddie obeyed, scrambling up the bed so he could rest his head on her thigh.  He dipped his head between her legs and inhaled deeply with a groan.

Chrissy tapped him on the nose in admonishment.  “I trained you better than that.  No noses in crotches,” she scolded, sharing a snicker at how ridiculous their roleplay was getting.  

Eddie subsided with a disgruntled huff.  Which really wasn’t very submissive at all, she reflected as she petted his head.  In fact, he’d been pushing her boundaries this whole time.  That sort of behavior needed to be punished.  And since he wasn’t all that into pain, and she was running out of self-control, she’d need to get creative.

For several minutes, she contented herself with stroking Eddie.  He was so tactile, murmuring contentedly with every pass of her hands over his arms, chest, and back.  When she scratched at his scalp, his eyes fluttered and rolled back in bliss.

He didn’t notice anything was amiss until Chrissy tugged the neckline of her dress down to expose her breasts.  She squeezed one and let her head fall back against the pillows with a quiet moan.  It didn’t feel quite as good as when he did it, but it still made her breathing quicken and her heart race.  With one hand on Eddie and the other on one small breast, she played with herself unhurriedly.

“Let me do that, Mistress,” he said, reaching for her before she could say a word.

She slapped his hand away.  “Do you think you deserve to after misbehaving like that?”

He grinned sheepishly.  “Oops.”  When she didn’t smile, he lowered his head.  “I’m sorry, Mistress.  Let me show you how good I can be.”

“You can show me by keeping your hands to yourself.  Your mouth, too,” she added quickly, knowing he’d take a mile if she gave him an inch.

He whined pitifully as she continued to play with her breast with one hand and slowly pet him with her other.  When she circled her finger around her nipple and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger, he licked his lips.

The temptation to grab his head and drag his mouth to her breast was almost unbearable.  But the feel of him trembling under her touch, the sound of his frustrated moans, the way his gaze darted between her breasts and her face, unsure of where to look - all of it set her blood ablaze.

Keeping one hand at her breast, she trailed the other down the length of her body, between her parted thighs.  The first brush of her fingers through her sensitive slit made her gasp. Eagerly, she began to touch herself in earnest.  Eddie’s groan was agonized as the sound of her fingers moving through her slick juices filled the air.

Chrissy tried to pace herself.  Really, she did.  But this felt so much more illicit than touching herself alone.  Eddie wasn’t laying a hand on her; apart from his head resting on her lap, he wasn’t touching her at all.  But just the sight of his warm, chocolate-brown eyes gazing longingly at her pussy made her burn.

She spread her legs wider.  Between them, her fingers worked faster.  It wouldn’t be long before she made herself cum.

Eddie inhaled deeply through his nose, his eyes rolling back in his head at the smell of her.  He dragged his tongue up her inner thigh before pressing desperate sucking kisses along her lower belly.  

Chrissy felt the first flutters of her impending climax.  She held it back ruthlessly.  “You want to taste, Puppy?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he panted.

“Beg for it.”

“Please, Mistress, let me have it,” he pleaded.  His cock was a deep, angry shade of red, contrasting sharply with the paler skin of his abdomen.  “I know I don’t deserve it.  But I’ll be good.  I’ll be so good.  Just please let me lick your pussy.”

His voice was enough to push her over the edge.  She came with a cry, one hand still rubbing her cunt while the other left her breast to fist in his hair.

She didn’t give herself any time to recover.  Her own fingers weren’t enough.  Not with him right there with you.

She held up her hand for his inspection, spreading her index and middle fingers in a V so he could see the way her juices spread between them.  “See that?  That’s what you do to me, pet.”  With that same hand, she thumbed his lower lip down.  “Now open.”

His lips parted.  She put her fingers inside, pressing them down on his tongue.  To her surprise, Eddie made no move to lick or suck.  He stayed perfectly still and waited for her next order.

“That’s my good boy,” she said, petting him in praise.  “Clean them off for me.”

Immediately his lips closed around her fingers, his tongue swirling around to find every last hint of her flavor.  Once they were cleaned to her satisfaction, she pulled them out of his mouth with a pop.

“You liked that, didn’t you?  You like being useful,” she murmured.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I like being useful for you,” he replied.

“I know you do.”

How could she not?  It showed in everything he did for her.  Since the day they found each other again, he’d taken care of her in so many ways.  Was it any wonder she wanted to love on him a little?

She could ask him to give more right now, and she knew he would.  But that wasn’t what today was about.  Today, she wanted to give back.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t take.

“What about being used?” she continued.  

His pupils blew out.

“You like that, don’t you?” she asked, giggling.  “You want to be my toy.”

“Please,” he begged.

“Tongue out, as far as it can go,” she commanded.  He obeyed quickly.  She pressed the pad of her thumb against it, pushing down until his tongue lay flat against his chin.  “Do you know how often I used to fantasize about this tongue back in high school?” she murmured.  Wordlessly, he shook his head.  “Not at first.  I used to be too scared of you.  But once we started hanging out?  All the time.  I got myself off so many times just remembering you licking rolling papers on your couch.”

Eddie made a desperate sound in his throat.  But with her thumb still holding his tongue down, he couldn’t say a word.  Which was just as well; she wasn’t sure she could handle hearing his reaction to her confession just now.

Threading her fingers through his hair, she brought his face between her legs.  “Stay just like that, Puppy,” she breathed, pressing his face to her pussy.  “Stay just like that and let me use you.”

With her hands on either side of his head for leverage, Chrissy started to grind herself against him.  This was different from the many times he’d eaten her out.  Then, he’d been in charge of her pleasure.  And while he’d been a generous lover, she was still at his mercy - something she loved.

What she did now to him, to herself, was different.  There was no targeted assault on all of her most sensitive places.  It was a messy, indirect sort of pleasure.  The flat of his tongue dragged up and down her slit at her direction, hitting everything at once instead of focusing anywhere in particular.  Physically, it wasn’t as good as letting him have his way with her.  It took constant work for her to position his face just so.  But there was something heady about taking her pleasure from him instead of lying back while he gave.

Eventually, she found a rhythm she liked, sliding her slick self up and down his tongue before taking a quick detour to nudge her clit with his nose.  Eddie was panting into her, his breath warm and sultry as it stirred the curls at her apex.  Further down the bed, his hips worked against the mattress in time to her own movements.

When she was close, she ripped him away from her by his hair.  She pulled him in for a biting kiss, reveling in the taste of his whimpers and her own slickness on her tongue.  

“Get in me,” she growled into his mouth.

After some undignified scrambling, they were in the position she wanted: her on all fours, with him above and behind her, his chest pressed to her back.  She could feel his length throbbing against the cleft of her ass; with a cheeky giggle, she ground against it, reveling in his strangled moan.  His hands were atop hers, their fingers woven together.  Chrissy extricated one hand.  Reaching between her legs, she took hold of Eddie’s long, gorgeous cock and lined it up with her entrance.  She could feel him quivering, fighting the urge to thrust inside.

“Go on, baby,” she murmured.  “Give it to me.”

Eddie seemed to be just as impatient as she; he thrust into her without preamble.  Chrissy moaned low in her throat at the sensation of finally, finally being filled.

Eddie kept himself bent low over her back, his fingers tightening rhythmically around hers as he fucked her.  His dark hair fell over both their shoulders, the sweat-damp curls entangling with her straighter strands.  His breath puffed in her ear with every thrust.  

“Am I good?” he asked in a low whisper.  “Am I making you feel good, Mistress?”

She wanted to say yes.  The feel of his skin against hers, the slick slide of him inside her - it had her teetering on the precipice of orgasm.  But she couldn’t resist teasing him one last time.

“You’re doing fine, Puppy… but I know you can do better.”  Pulling a hand free, she crooked her forefinger around his collar and gave it a sharp tug.  “Fuck me harder.  Like you mean it.”

“Oh, god.”  

Eddie redoubled his efforts, pistoning in and out of Chrissy with everything he had.  He was hitting deep inside her, each impact causing an ache that would have been painful if it weren’t for the slap of his balls against her clit, translating that dull pain into a bone-thrumming pleasure.

Chrissy broke with a cry, her fingers digging into the sheets as she arched up into him.  Her arms gave out underneath her, sending her face-first into the mattress as Eddie continued to plow into her.

He followed her down, mouthing and biting desperately at her shoulders as he chased his own pleasure.  Soon he came with a growl, hips stuttering against hers as his teeth sank into the juncture of her shoulder and neck.

For several long minutes they stayed like that: Chrissy prone on the bed with Eddie draped over her back.  Belatedly, she realized that her job wasn’t finished just yet.

She squirmed underneath him.  The movement made him slip out of her, pulling a moan of protest from him.  Chrissy craned her neck to press kisses to the side of his face in apology.

“I know, sweetie,” she cooed.  “But you’ve got to let me up.  We just undid all my hard work getting you clean.”

Eddie grumbled.  Wriggling his arms beneath her stomach, he pulled her tighter against him.  “No.”

She snorted.  “Tell you what: let me up, and once I’m done we can snuggle for as long as you want.  That sound good?”

Eddie heaved a dramatic sigh.  He rolled off of her and onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes.  Chrissy took a moment to admire the long lines of his body.

“Thanks, baby,” she said, pecking him on the lips in reward.  “Be right back.”

Chrissy tiptoed to the bathroom.  After a post-sex pee, she quickly wet a clean washcloth and grabbed the bottle of lotion she’d planned on using before they had sex.

That was Eddie’s fault for being so distracting.

When she got back to the bedroom, Eddie had rolled back onto his stomach, his ass raised slightly in the air.  That told Chrissy exactly what she needed to know: he was ready to have the plug out.  Taking it in her fingertips, she slowly worked it out of him, her free hand caressing the small of his back soothingly.  He yelped when the widest part popped out of him; she made soothing shushing noises and pressed a kiss to the dimples over his cheeks.  The collar and dog ears came off immediately after.

Next, she wiped the sweat from his body with the washcloth.  Remembering what he’d said months ago about needing touch during aftercare, Chrissy did her best to keep her movements efficient without sacrificing any tenderness.  She wiped his back side from neck to toes, then repeated the process on the front.

Finally, the lotion.  Eddie’s skin was fine, as far as the average guy’s skin went.  He didn’t spend any time or money on moisturizing or exfoliating, but he didn’t have particularly dry skin.  Honestly, Chrissy had picked up the lotion mostly as an excuse to get her hands all over him.  

Eddie certainly wasn’t complaining; even physically satisfied, he still arched into her touch, blissed out and giggling low in his throat as she worked the sandalwood lotion in.  

When she got to his back, he groaned when she hit a tight spot.  Not wanting to overstimulate him, she ran her palms over it a few times before leaving it be.  But she made a mental note of the spot for another time.

Once she finished, she capped the lotion, pulled up the sheets over them, and snuggled up behind him.  At over a half a foot shorter than him, she made a pretty ridiculous big spoon - but again, Eddie didn’t seem to mind.  With a contented sigh, he grabbed her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm, and wiggled back into her.

Cra-cra-CRACK.

“Ungh!”

“There, doesn’t that feel good?” Chrissy cooed, pulling his hips back into the right position.

“No,” Eddie said through gritted teeth.  She could tell he was lying, though, by the way the tension in his shoulders eased.  His back had needed those cracks, badly.  “My hamstrings are killing me!”

“They always do at first.  Just do what you can without straining,” she said.  “Just four more reps of Adho Mukha Svanasana - that’s Downward Facing Dog,” she added, knowing Eddie preferred the terms he could understand.  “Then we’ll do another child’s pose, and end with corpse pose.”

“Sounds metal,” Eddie said as he straightened his back the way she indicated.  His face was tight and red with the effort.

“You’ll like that one.  It involves lying on your back, breathing, and relaxing.”

“Oh thank God - a pose I won’t suck at!”

“It was made with you in mind,” she teased as he eased him back again.

It turned out, Savasana didn’t come as easily to Eddie as they thought.  Lying flat and not exercising, he could do.  But lying still?  That was a foreign concept.  He squirmed.  He fidgeted his fingers.  He wiggled his toes.  He scrunched his nose when a stray curl tickled it.  

“Try your best to clear your thoughts,” Chrissy suggested gently.  

Even lying down with his eyes closed, Eddie managed to look chastened.  “You’d think I’d be good at emptying my head,” he joked self-deprecatingly.

Chrissy sighed softly.  She didn’t want him to feel discouraged.  She wasn’t expecting Eddie to take to yoga any more than he expected her to master the Mario game with the cute dinosaur.  But she wanted to make this a good experience for him.

“Here - let’s try this.”  Lying down next to him, she placed one of his hands on her chest, and rested her hand on his sternum.  “Try and focus on matching your breathing to mine.”

Chrissy didn’t allow herself to sink into the tranquility of a full Savasana; she was too focused on Eddie to do that.  She paid attention as she felt his chest rise and fall as hers did.  Slowly, his fidgeting ceased.

Since she was making no effort to clear her thoughts, the greatest source of her anxiety immediately invaded her thoughts: her mother.  The cancer.  The thought of seeing her again.  The thought of not seeing her again.

Unlike all the other times her thoughts went down that dark path, her anxiety didn’t spiral this time.  Controlling her breathing, grounding herself on the floor, and focusing on Eddie’s breathing offered her a sense of clarity that had been just outside her grasp these past few weeks.

By the time Savasana ended, she knew what she was going to do.

“So what do you think?  How was your first ever yoga session?” she asked as she and Eddie sat up.

Eddie rolled a shoulder experimentally.  “To be honest, I can’t say it’s my thing,” he admitted, which she expected.  “But even though I don’t get what you see in it, I like seeing what makes you tick.”  He scrunched his nose.  “I dunno how you can get your heels to touch the floor during Doggie Style, though.”

She laughed.  “Downward Facing Dog,” she corrected.

She sobered quickly.  She didn’t want to ruin Eddie’s fun.  But now that she’d made her mind up… she needed to put it out there.  If she spoke her intentions aloud, they’d be out in the universe, and she’d have to follow through.  If she didn’t… she was afraid her courage would falter.

“Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah, Sunshine, what’s up?”

She gestured for him to stand up, if only to give her the distraction of rolling up the yoga mat she’d loaned him.  “I think… I need to go back to Hawkins.  To see my mom.”

“Okay…”  Eyeing her warily, he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one up.  After a drag, he said, “You don’t owe her that.  You know that, right?”

She nodded.  “I know.  But I think I… I owe it to myself.  To tell my mom… something.  I’m not sure what, yet.”

“I get it,” he said, mercifully letting her off the hook to explain something she hadn’t worked out for herself.  He crossed the room to the nearest wall, leaning against it just a little too casually.  “So - this quest of yours.  Is there room for a party of two, or were you planning on delving into the depths of Moria solo?”

Chrissy bit back a laugh.  “Okay, so… translating dork to English… you want to come with me?”

He shrugged.  “Only if you want.”

Relief nearly made her knees buckle.  She hadn’t wanted to ask him; she knew that Hawkins had few good memories for him.  Asking him to go back to a town that hated him so she could confront a woman he couldn’t stand… she knew it was a tall order.  

But he’d offered, which meant he was okay with it.  And despite her sudden surge of courage, she was still scared.  She’d grab onto any lifeline she could reach.

Taking his face in his hands, she pulled him down for a fervent kiss.  She didn’t even care that his face was still sweaty and his mouth tasted like an ashtray.  She was just grateful to have him - flaws and all.

When she pulled back, he gave her a dazed grin.  “I’ll take that as a yes.  So - when do we leave?”

Chapter Text

Eddie swallowed hard as his ears popped.  His stomach lurched.  The descent was the one part of flying he absolutely couldn’t stand.  No matter what, he couldn’t get used to the way his guts threatened to burst out of his mouth.  Usually, he and the guys got to shows by bus when they went on tour, but they’d flown several times over the years.  Nothing helped.

Next to him, Chrissy’s fingernails dug into the arms of her seat.  Her lips were pale, and the whites of her eyes were clearly visible as she stared out the window.  There wasn’t much to see in the dark - just the twin rows of runway lights - but she stared unblinkingly out anyway.

He wasn’t surprised.  Ever since he picked her up this morning, she’d been uncharacteristically quiet.  It seemed like the closer they got to her parents’ house, the worse she got.

His poor girl was terrified.  He only hoped he could do something to make this easier for her.

The old woman in the aisle seat next to him reached over him to pat Chrissy’s arm.  “Don’t worry, dear.  In a few minutes, we’ll be safely on the ground.  You’ll be off the plane before you know it.”

“I know,” Chrissy said with a weak smile.  It did nothing to hide the misery in her voice.  

When the wheels of the plane hit the tarmac, she began to tremble.  God, he hated seeing her like this.  Even after years away, her bitch of a mother still had her all twisted up in knots.  He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, encouraging her to lean on him.  Even though she relaxed against him somewhat, she was still a ball of tension.

The plane docked at the bridge.  In typical impatient passenger fashion, everyone stood up, even though nobody was being let off the plane yet.  Only Eddie and Chrissy stayed seated.  Personally, Eddie was dying to stand up; airline seats weren’t the most spacious, and his leg was on the verge of cramping.  But he wasn’t going to rush Chrissy.

When the people in the row in front of them left, Chrissy finally stood up.  Being closer to the aisle, Eddie was the one to pull their carry-on bags out of overhead storage.  He briefly considered carrying both bags.  But that would’ve left him without a hand free for Chrissy, which was absolutely out of the question.  He handed her bag to her, took her hand in his, and led her off the plane.  As soon as they were on the bridge, he wrapped his arm back around her shoulders.  Her arm snaked around his waist as she buried herself in his side.

They stayed that way as they waited at the luggage carousel.  Even once they had their bags, Chrissy stayed nestled into him.  Every so often, her grip around him would tighten, as if she were afraid something would tear him away from her.

Fat chance of that.  He’d fucking die first.

Walking to the car rental agency was extra awkward with their luggage.  Neither of them had those fancy suitcases with the wheels on the bottom.  Chrissy’s suitcase was a bulky leather thing she’d bought secondhand before her trip to India.  Eddie’s clothes were crammed haphazardly into an oversized gym bag.  Their heavy, bulky bags forced them into an awkward sort of waddle that they could’ve broken out of any time, if they just let go of one another.

Neither one did.

The agent at the rental place took one look at Eddie’s ripped jeans and cutoff tee before gently offering him one of their “budget-friendly” options.  He was too preoccupied to be offended.  Sure, he could easily afford the best car on the lot.  He could buy it outright, cash in hand, if he really wanted.  But he wasn’t looking to get recognized or attract attention on this trip.  As far as anybody here was concerned, he was just another Joe Schmoe steeling himself to deal with a bitchy mother-in-law.  Y’know - minus the “law” part.

Soon, he had the keys for a boring silver sedan.  He encouraged Chrissy to wait in the car while he packed their shit in the trunk.  Once he was in the driver’s seat, he finally turned to her.

“You hungry?  Or do you just wanna go to the hotel?” he asked gently.

For a long time, Chrissy stared silently down at her knees.  She picked at a loose seam in her secondhand jeans.  

Eddie’s knee jiggled as he fought the urge to just say “fuck it” and whisk her away to the hotel room.  They could always order room service later.

But he had a hunch that this needed to be her choice.  Keeping her from eating, even just for a little while, would just reinforce all the bullshit her mother used to put in her head.  But pressuring her into it would probably make her feel worse.

Eventually, she nodded.  “I could go for a burger,” she sighed, as though the effort of saying it took a lot out of her.

He nodded and swallowed hard at the thickness in his throat.  She was just… incredible.  Even though she was back in the shithole that was Hawkins, Indiana, and forced to confront her bitch of a mother… wait, no.  That wasn’t right.  She wasn’t thrown or forced into anything.  She chose this.  Even knowing that this whole trip would be her own personal hell, she had the courage and fortitude to do it anyway.  

Anybody who looked at her tiny frame and saw weakness was fucking blind.  She was a warrior queen who armed herself with ribbons and lace instead of leather and metal.

“Is that okay?” she asked when he didn’t answer.

“Yeah, of course,” he said quickly, turning the key in the ignition.  “I saw a Mickey D’s sign just down the road.  That work for you?”  Putting the car in drive, he headed out of the parking lot.

“Oh, um… I was thinking maybe we could get Benny’s?”  Even though what she said was a statement, it came out of her mouth like a question.

“Fine with me.  But are you sure?”

She nodded.  “One of… my number one regret when I left Hawkins was never going to Benny’s with you.  But between Mom and Jason… I was just too scared.”

He nodded.  Back toward the tail end of senior year - her first, his third - they spent a lot of time together.  But it was always in secret: clandestine meetings at his trailer, or at the picnic table in the woods he’d come to think of as their spot.  Never where anybody could see.  He’d asked her out to Benny’s a week after she dumped Carver.  Her stammering rejection was a knife in his heart, but he’d taken it in stride.  Just because he’d carried a torch for her since middle school didn’t mean she did the same.

Anyway, that didn’t matter now.  She might not have been into him back then, but she was now.  And she obviously didn’t mind his decade-plus of mooning.  After all, she’d been the one bust out the fake cheerleading uniform.  She had to know just what that meant to him.

“One Benny’s burger coming right up,” he said, driving past the McDonald’s without a glance.  

“I hope it’s still open,” she said wistfully.

Eddie snorted.  “Trust me, it is.  Wayne and I practically lived off of Benny’s for like, six months when the stove shit the bed.  If the place closed down, Wayne would’ve bitched about it.”

“Good.”

Before long, they were on the highway.  Eddie switched the radio on out of necessity; as easily distracted as he was, he needed music to keep himself from losing focus while he drove.  Worrying about Chrissy didn’t help things.  In deference to her tastes, he found a pop music station and left it on that.

She flashed him a smile, weak but genuine.  “Thanks, Eddie.”

“You can make it up to me when we get home.  Donkey Kong Country, co-op.  One level for every time I have to hear one of Mariah Carey’s high notes.”

“Fine,” she sighed, “but I get to be Donkey Kong.”

The drive went on mostly like that.  Eddie did his best to keep the mood light without forcing it.  They played Cows and Graveyards, which Chrissy won when they passed an enormous dairy farm on her side of the road.  

When they passed the sign welcoming them to Hawkins, she fell silent.  

“Hey.”  Eddie groped for her hand, not taking his eyes off the road.  Her fingers, thin and frigid, slipped into the spaces between his.  “You’ve got this.  Okay?  There’s not shit she can do to you now.”

“I hate this,” she whispered.  “I feel like a scared little kid again, and I haven’t even seen her yet.”

“You’re not a scared kid, though.  You’ve been doing great for years now.”

“Not by her standards,” she muttered.  “My apartment’s crummy, my clothes and furniture are all thrifted, and - “

Eddie pulled over, wanting to give her his full attention.  He slammed the brakes harder than he intended in his frustration.  “You don’t mean that.  You love your apartment.  And I’ve seen you spend hours in the thrift shop.”

“Yeah, because I can’t afford anything new.  I couldn’t even afford my own plane ticket.”  Her shoulders were slumped in defeated misery.

“True,” he conceded.  Flying to Indiana had been his idea.  She’d wanted to take the bus.  He wasn’t against it, but he knew she’d be beating herself up with worry for the whole trip.  At least taking the plane was ripping the bandaid off.  “Does it really bother you that much?  Me paying for you?”

“Mom would say I’m - “

“Fuck what she’d say,” he interrupted.  If he let her get started down that path, she’d never stop.  “I didn’t ask if it bothered Laura.  I asked if it bothers you.”

“Well… no,” she admitted.  “But she’d… she’ll hate every choice I’ve made since I left.  Everything I’ve done with my life.”

“Yeah, well, tough.  It’s not her life - it’s yours.”  Taking her face in his hands, he leaned in until their foreheads touched.  “Don’t let her in your head, Sunshine.  She doesn’t deserve to step foot in there.”

Her lower lip wobbled, and her gray-blue eyes swam with tears.  “I’m sorry, Eddie.”  Tears splashed down, warm and salty, on both their cheeks.  “I - I feel like I’m losing my mind.  Like I’m gonna break apart into a million pieces.”

He studied her face, worried.  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked quietly.  “Just say the word and I’ll have us on the next plane out of here.  I don’t care where it goes.”

The yearning in her eyes was so clear he felt it like it was his own.  But she shook her head.  “This is something I have to do.  I need her to know how horrible she was to me.  And… I need me to know that I can stand up to her.”

“I get that,” he said.  The day he’d punched his old man in the face for the first time was the day he finally stopped being afraid of Al Munson.  The beating he’d gotten afterward left him black and blue, but that wasn’t what stuck with him.  It didn’t matter how well he could fight back; what mattered was learning that he could.  Chrissy needed to learn the same lesson.  “But you don’t win battles on an empty stomach.  A burger, some fries, and a bed are next on the agenda.”

“And a milkshake?” Chrissy asked, eyes hopeful.  “I heard Benny makes a good one.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” he said as he put the car back in gear.  He shot her a grin to let her know he was joking.  “His milkshakes are okay, but his brownie sundaes are orgasmic.  Hot fudge on top, warm brownie on the bottom, tons of whipped cream, it’s just…”  He rolled his eyes and moaned obscenely.

“That sounds really good,” she said wistfully, like she didn’t quite believe it was something she’d experience for herself.

“You’ll see for yourself,” he promised. 

They drove on for another thirty minutes, talking and laughing quietly.  Chrissy’s smile was still too threadbare for his taste, her smile stretched so tight it threatened to snap.  Helplessly, Eddie tried everything in his arsenal to cheer her up.  He felt like he was walking a tightrope, trying to find the perfect balance between not being obnoxious and not leaving her to stew in her misery.

It was pretty late by the time they rolled up to Benny’s - way past dinner rush.  Every seat in the joint was empty.  The diner’s hulking owner drummed his fingers on the counter.  When the door opened, his eyebrows rose.

“Well, shit.  Cheeseburger Club, extra bacon, extra extra onion, fries extra crunchy.  I keep telling Wayne if I have to hear that new song of yours on the radio one more time, I’m blacklisting the DJ,” Benny said, reaching out a hand.

Eddie clapped Benny’s hand with his own.  “You still remember my order after all this time?  Loser.”

“Yeah, well, you ordered it about two thousand times,” Benny retorted.  “Music world’s been treating you good, I see.”

“We do alright,” Eddie said, not modestly per se, but not wanting to get bogged down in the matter of his fame.  “New album comes out in a month.  Who knows?  If it nosedives, maybe I’ll move back in with Wayne, get a job here.”

Yeah, right.  He’d move back to Hawkins over his dead body.

Benny clapped him on the shoulder.  “The way you drive, I’d hire you for deliveries.  The food would always get there before it even has a chance to cool down.”  His gaze slid down to Chrissy, and immediately softened.  The guy might be built like a bear, but he was as ferocious as a teddy.  “You gonna introduce me to your friend?”

She stepped forward with a shy little wave - a cute wiggling of her fingers that made Eddie want to scoop her up and squeeze her breathless.  God, she was so damn cute without even trying.

“Hi, I’m Chrissy.  I, um, actually grew up here, but I never had a chance to come here here.  Your restaurant, I mean.”

His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her for a long moment.  “You’re Jake’s big sister, aren’t you,” he finally said.

Chrissy offered a tentative, confused smile.  “You know Jacob?”

“Sure.  He and his, ah, friend are regulars.  Been coming here for a few years now.”  

Eddie noticed that slight hesitation when Benny brought up Chrissy’s brother’s friend.  He had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly what that was a euphemism for.  Still, he was smart enough not to ask.  Hawkins wasn’t nearly as progressive about that stuff like California was.  

Soon they were tucked away in a booth in the corner, waiting for their food.  Eddie practically guzzled his Coke while Chrissy sipped delicately at her lemon water (which she’d sweetened with half a spoonful of sugar even though there were packets of Sweet-n-Low at the table, Eddie was happy to note).  Still, she’d gone quiet again.  Eddie held her hand in his, running his thumb soothingly over the backs of her fingers.  

“Hey,” he said softly.  He waited until her fraught gray eyes met his.  “Relax.  We’re not going over there ‘til tomorrow.”

“I know.  That just makes it worse,” she whispered.  A single tear fell down her cheek.  She scrubbed it away with the back of her sleeve.  With a shaky breath, she added, “Thanks for convincing me to fly here.  I think I’d’ve driven myself insane if I had to drive the whole way.  I would’ve just been freaking myself out the whole time.”

“No problem.”  The plane tickets and hotel room were nothing.  In a few weeks, his album would release.  After that, the first leg of the tour.  Between album sales, concert tickets, and merch, he’d be fine financially.

When their food arrived, Eddie dug in immediately.  Benny’s burgers were just as good as he remembered: greasy, flame charred, and piled high with sliced onions.  He was halfway through chowing down when he noticed that Chrissy was just picking at her chicken salad sandwich.  She’d taken a handful of halfhearted bites and nibbled on a few fries.  Now she stared at it like it was about to bite her back.

Fear squeezed his heart in its steely grip.  He didn’t know how to help her with this.  His relationship with food was simple: cram as much junk food as he could into his mouth, chew minimally, swallow.  How was he supposed to help navigate her through this when mealtime was a minefield?

What if he fucked it up?  What if he did something to set her off and made it all worse?  She was already a wreck because of this whole shitshow with her mom.  If he made it worse… if he pushed her back to where she was in high school… he’d never forgive himself.

He couldn’t begin to get into her headspace.  He didn’t know shit about eating disorders, or how to deal with shitty parents without punching them in the face.  But there were tools he could lean on in a pinch.  He was here as her boyfriend, not her Dom, but if it worked, it worked.

“Color?” he asked quietly.  At her bewildered look, he elaborated.  “Green, you try to take a few more bites.  Yellow, we pack up the leftovers for later.  Red, we pay the bill and leave right now.”

He wasn’t trying to initiate a scene.  There was nothing exciting or sensual about this situation.  But he hoped that giving her clear choices and putting the power in her hands would help.

Chrissy stared down at her plate as she weighed her options.  Eddie waited for an answer.  It took her nearly two full minutes to answer.  If this had been a scene, he would’ve called red; if someone was that unsure whether they wanted to keep going, that was as good as a no.

But this wasn’t as simple as deciding whether she could handle a harder spanking.  This was determining whether she would eat.  To him, the answer was clear: obviously, he wanted her to eat.  For her, it was a lot more complicated.  

“Yellow,” she finally decided.

Eddie released the breath he’d been holding.  It wasn’t a green, but he’d take it.  At least she was willing to try again later.

Encouraged, he decided to give his luck a gentle nudge.  “Do you still want to give that sundae a try?”

She looked at him warily, like a dog who couldn’t tell if the hand being offered to it was going to caress or slap her.  “Is that okay?”

She might as well have asked if she was allowed.  Like a kid asking for dessert when they didn’t eat all their veggies.  It would’ve been funny in other circumstances.

“Put it this way: I’m dying for one.  I can get us two, or we can split one.  Your call.”

“I’d like to split one,” she decided after a short pause.

“Cool.  Be right back.”

Eddie went up to the counter and asked for to-go boxes and a sundae - “I’m a grown-ass man, if I want dessert before I finish dinner, nobody’s gonna stop me” - and paid the check while he was up there.  If they needed to beat a quick retreat, he didn’t want to have to dick around with waiting for change.

When the sundae arrived, it was bigger than Eddie remembered.  Looking closer, he noticed that Benny hadn’t just given them two spoons; he’d also squeezed in an extra scoop of ice cream, a few more broken chunks of brownie, and added an extra cherry on top so they could each have one.  Chrissy’s eyes lit up.  She immediately scooped one of them up with the tip of her spoon and popped it into her mouth.  

He made a note to pick up a whole jar of maraschino cherries when they got home.  

Eddie timed each scoop of his spoon to hers while trying not to look like he was doing it.  Each of her spoonfuls was a dainty, delicate thing as she tried to get one ingredient at a time: first a sticky strand of hot fudge, then a blob of whipped cream, followed by some ice cream and finally, a hunk of warm brownie.  She ate each layer one at a time before starting over.

Meanwhile, Eddie tried to get every layer on his spoon at once.  He liked how the flavors and textures all blended together.

When Chrissy laid her spoon down, she’d eaten maybe a scant third of the sundae - less than Eddie hoped, but more than he expected.  He finished off the rest in two big bites, leaving only a puddle of melted ice cream and the one remaining cherry.

He scooped it up and offered it to her.  “Go on, I know you want it.”

Leaning forward, she closed her lips around the cherry with a sweet smile.  Eddie added cherry-flavored lube to his mental shopping list.

As they left, Eddie pulled a fifty dollar bill out of his wallet and palmed it.  He called out to Benny, who was in the kitchen doing something with the deep fryer.  “Thanks, man!  It was as good as I remember.”

Benny waved without turning.  “Come back any time.  You too, Chrissy.”

“Thank you,” she said, polite as always.

On their way out the door, Eddie crumpled the fifty into a ball and hucked it at the back of Benny’s head.  The sound of his cursing was cut off as the door swung shut behind them.

“You’re horrible,” Chrissy snickered.

Eddie held a hand to his chest, as though mortally wounded.  “You can’t talk to me like that after we forged bonds in a brownie sundae.  It’s sacred.  Sacrosanct, even.”

She snickered.  When they got to the car, she turned to him.  

“Thanks for coming with me, Eddie,” she said quietly.  “I know I’m probably being really annoying.  But if I didn’t have you with me, I think I’d be ten times worse.”

His heart broke for her.  Here she was, going through hell, and all she could think of was how much of a burden she must be.  “C’mere,” he said, opening his arms.  When she stepped into them, he wrapped her up in the warmest hug he could muster.  He rested his chin on the top of her head.  Her hands fisted in the back of his t-shirt.  “For the record, you haven’t annoyed me once.  I’m just happy you asked me to come with,” he informed her.  “I just wish there was something I could do to help.”

“You’re doing it already,” she murmured into his chest.

He doubted that, but chose not to argue.  

They stayed like that until Chrissy yawned into his chest.  “Can we go to the hotel now?  I’m really tired.”

“Sure.”  

The hotel he’d chosen was no Ritz, but it wasn’t a roach motel, either.  It was a small, cozy B&B on the outskirts of town that was owned by an elderly couple.  He probably could’ve found something just as nice for a few bucks cheaper, but he liked to support family-owned businesses over big chains.

The room boasted wood-paneled walls, lacy curtains, and a queen-size bed with an obviously handmade quilt that was worn but clean and soft.  The TV on the dresser was smaller than Eddie was used to (he liked his comforts, okay?).  

Without so much as unzipping his suitcase, he flipped down on the bed, remote in hand, and started channel surfing.

Chrissy, on the other hand, immediately unpacked her bag and put her clothes away.  Which seemed insane to Eddie.  They were only staying for two nights - nowhere near enough time to justify the effort of unpacking.

When she finished unpacking, she announced that she was taking a shower as she carried an armload of toiletries to the en-suite bathroom.

When the door closed behind her, Eddie breathed a sigh of relief.  It wasn’t that he was sick of her.  He’d been honest when he said that she wasn’t annoying him.  But this whole situation was a mess.  He was walking on eggshells trying to give her what she needed.  He couldn’t tell whether he was succeeding with flying colors, or failing miserably.  It felt like being in high school when the teacher announced a pop quiz on a subject he’d slept through.  Everything he said felt like a multiple choice question; one of the answers might be obviously wrong, but only one of the remaining three was the right one.

It was exhausting.  But god dammit, he was going to get an A+ in Being Chrissy’s Boyfriend if it killed him.  He just needed a break now and then.

Once he went through every channel the B&B had, he settled on some sitcom he’d never seen before and let his mind drift to the sound of wacky hijinks and canned laughter.

Chrissy emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of fragrant steam.  There was a towel wrapped around her middle and another holding her hair up in an adorable fluffy turban.  Her face and shoulders were flushed a deep pink from the no-doubt scalding shower she just took.

“I see you tested out the water heater,” he remarked with a grin.

“Yup.  It works!” she replied cheerfully.  Perching on the edge of the bed, she started to lotion her legs.

Eddie watched with interest.  Partly because of all the tantalizing skin on display.  Mostly, though, he remembered a couple weeks back when he got the same treatment as her puppy.  It had been an eye-opening experience.  Not the skincare.  He didn’t give a rat’s ass about that before, and he wasn’t about to start.  

But the actual emotional care that went into it put a sweet ache in his chest.  Chrissy wanted him to feel soft and warm, and to smell nice.  Not for her own benefit - she didn’t seem to mind his rough skin and hairy legs - but for himself.  It was her way of making him feel safe and cared for, just like he did for her when he listened and made her laugh and told her she was good.

Once she finished slathering the sweet-smelling cream on her arms, she started on her torso.  She managed to keep the towel in place through some modest feminine magic he’d never understand.  When she finished, he plucked the bottle from her hands.  

“Want me to get your back?”

She opened her mouth, and he could practically see the reflexive demurral die on her lips.  “Would you?” she asked instead, turning her back to him and letting the towel droop.

Eddie’s mouth went dry at the expanse of creamy skin before him.  Focus, he told himself, pumping a squirt of lotion into his palm.  He worked it into her shoulders.  Her muscles were taut as a bowstring.  Patiently, he worked his fingers and palms into them to massage the tension away, smiling when she gave a low groan of relief.  As he worked his way lower, he pressed kisses to the crook of her shoulder - not to excite her, but for the sheer joy of feeling her softness against his lips.

“Um - “ Chrissy started, stiffening.  Eddie went still and waited for her to continue.  “Is… is it okay if we… don’t?” 

He wasn’t surprised, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed.  It wasn’t just about getting his rocks off.  He wanted to be close to her, to make her feel good, to see her vulnerable and open in a way that didn’t rip his heart into pieces.  

But that wasn’t what she needed right now.  And he so badly wanted to give her what she needed.

“I wasn’t expecting it,” he said gently.

“But you - “

“This isn’t about me,” he interrupted, not even wanting her to go down that path.  If she said something about owing him, or paying him back, he just might be sick to his stomach.  He found a knot in the small of her back and dug his thumb into it ruthlessly.  She grunted.  “Look, princess, you’ve got more than enough on your plate without worrying about the state of my dick.  I’m a big boy; I’ll survive.  And when we get back home, we’ll have all the time in the world.”

God, he hoped that was true.  The past few months had ruined him for other women.  And men.  If she dumped him, he’d have to become a monk.  Or a eunuch.

“Now relax and let me finish this.  And afterwards,” he went on, picking up the bottle of nail polish she’d left on the bed, “I’m gonna paint your piggies… Raspberry Rapture, apparently.”

She laughed, her posture melting a little as she relaxed.  “Have you ever painted anyone’s nails before?”

“Nope.  But I’ve painted probably a few hundred D&D minis.  Trust me - your tootsies will be flawless.”

Eddie was as good as his word.  After Chrissy exfoliated and moisturized her feet, he painted her dainty little toes a luscious shade of purply-red without so much as a single smear.  

While they dried, he took a shower of his own.  Briefly, he considered giving himself a little relief in the privacy behind the curtain, but ultimately decided against it.  Jerking off while Chrissy was so fragile on the other side of the door felt gross.  

And it was a good thing he decided against it.  Right when he was rinsing the shampoo from his hair, the hot water ran out.  He finished in a hurry.  By the time he dried off and scrubbed a towel over his sopping curls, he was shivering.

Chrissy was already waiting under the covers when he got out.  She’d turned off all the lights except for the lamp at her bedside.  Her towels were neatly folded over the back of a chair, and she’d slipped on the t-shirt he’d been wearing fifteen minutes ago.

She squealed when he lunged toward the bed and dove under the covers.  “Oh my god, Eddie, you’re freezing!”

“Warm me up, sunshine,” he retorted, snuggling up close to steal her body heat.

“Ugh, your hair’s still wet!”

“Puppy-Eddie puts up with getting blow-dried.  I prefer to air-dry.”  Not wanting to be a dick, he pulled his hair over his shoulder.

“I don’t know how you can stand it.  Your pillow’s gonna be all damp, and your hair’s gonna get all frizzy,” she groused, snuggling in closer and throwing a leg over both of his.

His dick twitched optimistically.  “There is no inconvenience or discomfort I won’t endure to save myself the tiniest modicum of effort,” he replied.

She snorted.  “If that were true, you wouldn’t be here right now.”  He felt the warm pressure of her hand on the left side of his chest.  “For the record, I’m happy you are.  I’m always happier when you’re around,” she added softly, pressing her face into the side of his neck.

Thank god she did.  If she looked at him, she’d see him grinning like an absolute goon.  She liked having him around.  She was happy when he was around.  

For now, that was more than enough.

The next morning, Chrissy was a whirling dervish of anxiety.  Eddie was thankful he’d chosen a B&B instead of some chain hotel; the owner’s fresh-squeezed juice and homemade yogurt with fruit compote had tempted her into eating where stale, prepackaged danishes probably wouldn’t have.

Now she was wearing through the hotel room rug with her pacing as she kept changing between the three outfits she’d packed.

Eddie sighed.  She’d been at this for twenty minutes now.  She’d put on an outfit, scrutinize herself in the mirror, shake her head, and change.  She got more and more upset with each rotation.

“You’ve tried those all on, like, five times now,” he remarked, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.  “You’re gonna have to pick one sooner or later.”

“I know,” she moaned, despairing, as she shimmied out of her pants.

“It’s just clothes,” he pointed out.  “Your mom’s not gonna magically like you more just because of what you’re wearing.”

The second the words were out of his mouth, he knew he fucked up.  Chrissy went perfectly still, her shoulders tense.  Even with her back turned to him, he could see her jaw working angrily.

“That was mean,” she said coldly.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, swearing quietly.  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

For a while, she didn’t speak.  The tension in the room mounted, and Eddie began to fear that he’d broken something that wouldn’t be easily fixed.

Then she sighed, and turned to face him.  The hurt in her eyes was like a gut-punch, but he’d take that over the frigid anger in her voice a minute ago.

“So what did you mean?”

Eddie reached for her, as much for his own comfort as for hers.  He enfolded her in his arms.  The moment he did, she melted into him and nuzzled into his clavicle.

He took a deep breath, cringing at how it shook.  “I just meant… look.  You’re the sweetest, most caring person I’ve ever met.  Fairy tale princesses wish they were you, okay?  It’s not your clothes, or your looks, or your body.  It’s you.  Anybody in their right mind would love you.”

“Then why couldn’t she?” Chrissy asked in a small, tear-filled voice.

“I dunno,” he admitted.  He squeezed her tighter.  “But that just means there’s something wrong with her.  Not with you.”

“I know.  I just want her to love me so bad.  Even after everything, I keep thinking if I just try a little harder, push myself a little more, then maybe…”

Memories came to Eddie, unbidden, of when they started hanging out in the tail end of his final senior year of high school.  How gaunt she’d been back then, how fragile.  Her painted-on smile so thin it was cracking, and for some reason only the town burnout could see it fracture.  

God, he couldn’t watch her go through that again.  As hard as the past few days were, back then had been infinitely worse.  

“Please don’t hurt yourself for her,” he whispered, hoarse with terror.  “Please, please, Chrissy.  She’s not worth it.  Her love isn’t worth what she put you through.”

“Then why do I want it so bad?”

He could’ve told her that he understood.  That he’d done fucked up things to earn his dad’s love.  That he’d fucked himself over and worse, fucked over someone who put her neck out for him, all for some bullshit scheme that he knew, he fucking knew, wasn’t going to make his old man suddenly turn into father of the year.

But the truth was, he hated that part of himself.  Hated how, despite how determined he was not to end up like his dad, he came running like a loyal dog when Al Munson snapped his fingers.  And in the aftermath, he was still stupid enough to feel surprised and hurt by the inevitable betrayal.

“I dunno,” he said instead.

They stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other.  Chrissy was the first to pull away.

“Guess I should get this over with,” she muttered.  She gave him a plaintive look.  “Help me pick an outfit?”

“Sure.”  He didn’t really see the point.  Chrissy was adorable in everything she wore.

He looked at the outfits she’d laid out on the bed.  There was a pale yellow baby tee with blue beadwork of a starfish on the chest, which was laid out over a pair of wide-leg jeans with rips at the knees.  The jeans seemed more his style than Chrissy’s, honestly.

Next to that was a dress in a pale shade of cream with a print of soft pink roses in vertical stripes.  There was a white lace trim on the hem, which was short enough to show a lot of leg.  It was cute and sweet and very Chrissy.

Finally, there was a pair of loose, pale pink pants made of soft material - the type of pants you wore as pajama pants, or to laze around at home all day.  He’d seen her wear this exact pair at the yoga classes she taught.  The top was fancier than what she wore when she was working up a sweat all day.  The white lace halter top had frills at the neckline and hem, a wide strip of lace running up the center, and sprays of pale blue flowers running up both sides.  

He stared at the clothes blankly.  He didn’t really see what this had to do with confronting her mom.  When he told her so, she rolled her eyes with exasperation. 

“It’s not about the clothes, it’s about what the clothes say,” she explained.

He blinked owlishly at her.  That… really didn’t clarify things for him.  “Might need you to translate for me, princess.  I don’t speak Clothesish.”

Slowly, as if explaining something really obvious, she pointed to the dress.  “This one says, ‘I don’t have to starve myself and work myself to exhaustion to look pretty.’”  She gestured to the workout pants and halter top.  “This one says ‘I took all the ugliness you tried to force on me and turned it into something that helps people.’”  Finally, she pointed to the jeans and t-shirt.  “And this one says ‘I didn’t even think of you when I chose this outfit; I just wore what I wanted.’”

The irony of that last one wasn’t lost on Eddie.  Anyway, he doubted her mom would even pick up on all these subliminal messages Chrissy was putting out.  Then again, who was he to say?  Maybe the Cunningham women really did have some telepathic way of communicating through outfits.

Still, the choice was obvious when she put it that way.  “That one,” he said, pointing to the jeans and t-shirt.  He’d pick a middle finger to Laura Cunningham any day of the week.

“Okay,” she agreed, reaching for the shirt.  She hesitated.  Then, slowly, her arm changed course, going for the pink and white outfit.  “I think this is the one.”

“Just like that?  You can’t pick for almost an hour, but as soon as I pick one, you choose a different one?  You malign my taste in clothes, sweetness.”  He nudged her side with his elbow to show he was just teasing.

She swatted him away.  “Need I remind you these are my clothes?”  Her nose scrunched in mock annoyance.  “No, I just… I didn’t know which one I really wanted until you picked that one.  I was disappointed you didn’t pick this one, which helped me figure it out.”

He snorted.  Trust Chrissy to need help making up her own mind.  Oh well.  At least she spoke up and did what she wanted.  That alone was worth the hassle.

Still, he couldn’t help feeling like he’d failed a test.  Like he should’ve been able to figure out the answer she really wanted and give it to her.

If Chrissy was disappointed, she didn’t act it.  She dressed quickly in the dressed-up version of her work outfit.  Ever the fashionista, she tied the outfit together with a stretchy headband tie-dyed in cotton candy shades of pink and blue, which held her copper-gold hair out of her pretty face.

“Ready to go?” Eddie asked when she was done.

“No.”  She reached fumblingly for his hand and gripped it tight.  “But I wanna get this over with.”

The drive to the Cunningham place was oppressively silent.  Eddie didn’t need directions; he’d known where she lived years before they finally started hanging out (and he didn’t spend Sunday nights pining in his van down the street, thank you very much).  He fought the instinct to fill the silence with everything he had.  Talking, the radio, or even just opening the windows and letting the air roar in their ears - anything would be better than this torture.

Instead, he held Chrissy’s hand in his for the whole ride, silently offering his support.

When they pulled up to the Victorian, it was like no time had passed at all since high school.  The windows gleamed, the lawn was immaculate, and the two cars in the driveway were polished to a mirror shine.  Nobody would know that sickness and death waited inside.

Typical.  The Cunninghams specialized in hiding ugliness behind a perfect facade.

Eddie killed the ignition.  Chrissy made no move to get out of the car.

“You know, when most girls introduce their boyfriend to their parents, it’s a good thing,” she said.  “This?  This is gonna be a disaster.”

“Wanna meet my parents after?  We could hit the graveyard and the penitentiary.  Really make a hat trick out of this shit-show,” he offered jokingly.

She frowned miserably, not appreciating his joke.  Eddie berated himself internally.  Damn it, he was here to make her feel better, not worse!

“Sorry,” he offered awkwardly.

“It’s fine.”  Her flat tone indicated otherwise.  He decided not to press the issue.  She sighed.  “It wouldn’t be Hawkins if I wasn’t being forced into something I don’t want to do.”

Eddie turned as much as the driver’s seat would allow.  “You don’t ‘have’ to do anything you don’t want.  You know that, right?  We can just turn around and leave.”

“I told Jacob we were coming.”  She wrung her hands in her lap.

“So?  Tell him your flight got canceled.  Tell him you got Ebola.  Hell, tell him you just changed your mind!”

“I can’t!”  Her eyes shone with unshed tears.  She dabbed delicately at her eyes with one finger, doing her best not to smear her makeup.  “I told you, I need to do this.  I need Mom to understand.”

She wasn’t going to.  Eddie could speak from experience.  There was no magic spell or incantation that would convince Laura Cunningham that her brand of love was a slow poison, just like there was none to make Al Munson realize that a coma patient could give more love and nurturing than he did.  But pointing that out didn’t make Chrissy see his side.  All it did was hurt her.

“I’m not like you, Eddie,” she continued, her dabbing getting more frantic.  “I can’t just decide I don’t care what someone thinks.  I wish I could.”

Was that what she thought?  Hilarious.  Of course he cared what people thought.  People who didn’t care what others thought of them didn’t climb on tables denouncing their peers.  They didn’t make being a rebel outcast their entire personality, and they sure as hell didn’t pour their soul out onstage in front of an audience.  Years of rejection might have thickened his skin, but he was every bit as gooey underneath as she was.

“Fair enough,” he said, not wanting to argue.  “We can wait til you’re ready.”

It took Chrissy another full five minutes to open her door.  Eddie chafed at the delay.  He was trying his best to be patient, but honestly, he’d rather swallow glass than step foot in the Cunningham house.  Still, he did his best to be patient.

Despite the way she timidly shrank into his side, Chrissy’s knock on the front door was firm.  A deflated-looking man in a blue polo shirt answered.  His eyes went wide.

“Chrissy.  Your mother and I weren’t expecting you.”

She smiled weakly.  “Hi, dad.  It’s… been a while.”

Before either she or Eddie could react, Philip Cunningham swept his daughter up in a crushing hug.

“Seven years,” he rasped.  “Seven years, no visits, no phone calls, no letters.  You didn’t have to stay away so long.  You didn’t - “

“I did,” she interrupted.  She sounded like she was on the verge of tears.  “You know I did.  I had to get away.”

“But you’re here now,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken.  He held her out at arm’s length to look at her.  “Your room is just how you left it.  Your mother insisted.  You can bring your things inside and we’ll get you unpacked.”

Eddie fought the urge to butt in.  He loathed seeing her like this, all terrified and barely keeping it together.  But the entire point of this trip was to let her speak for herself.  He needed to respect that.

Chrissy took an incredulous step back.  “What?  No.  Dad, I’m… I’m not moving back to Hawkins.  I just came to see Mom.  I heard that she’s…”  Her voice broke.  She cleared her throat a few times.  “Sick.”

He latched onto that like the pathetic little lamprey he was.  “Yes, she is - very sick.  And I know it would make her so, so happy if you moved back in.  She doesn’t have a lot of time left.”  

The implication remained unspoken, but it reverberated through the air as loud as the speakers at a Corroded Coffin show: you wouldn’t deny a dying woman her last wish, would you?

Any sympathy Eddie might’ve had for Philip died in that moment.  He might be just as much of a victim of Laura’s abuse as Chrissy was, but he was obviously willing to throw his own daughter under the bus if it made his life easier.

“I said no, Dad.”  Chrissy’s voice was as soft as always, but there was a steely edge underneath.  Reaching out, Eddie grabbed her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“It wouldn’t be the same as back then.  Your mother’s changed.”

Eddie tried to choke back a rude sound and failed miserably.  Okay, maybe he didn’t try that hard.

Father and daughter both looked at him.  Chrissy narrowed her eyes in disapproval even as her lips pursed to hide a smile.  Philip looked surprised, like he didn’t even notice Eddie was there.

“Chrissy, honey, you haven’t introduced me to your friend,” he said warily.

Friend.  Friend.  Eddie saw red.  If some random person on the street called him Chrissy’s friend, he wouldn’t be offended.  It was a harmless assumption.  But he knew the Cunninghams, at least by reputation.  Every word they spoke was carefully and deliberately chosen.  He wanted Chrissy to not be dating someone like Eddie.

He opened his mouth to say something scathing in reply.  But before he could, Chrissy tucked herself into his side and wrapped her arm around his waist, leaving no doubt about their relationship.

“This is my boyfriend, Eddie,” she corrected.

Eddie wasn’t the type to do that macho, chest-pounding territorial bullshit.  But Chrissy claiming him in front of her shitty family when it would’ve been easier for her to play along?  Yeah, that made him want to throw his head back and howl.  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, his chest puffed out with pride.

Philip paled.  “Ah.  Your… I see.”  He turned to Eddie and reluctantly extended a hand.  “How do you do.”  It wasn’t a question.

Eddie shook his hand and responded in kind.  “Whassup.”

He turned back to Chrissy again, and just like that, Eddie might as well have been invisible.  “Honey, I’m not sure your mother is up for a visit with someone she hasn’t met yet.  Maybe your friend would be more comfortable waiting outside.”  He spared Eddie a glance, taking in his long hair, his ripped jeans, and the tattoos visible on his forearms.  “In the back,” he added.

Eddie bristled.  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

“Eddie,” Chrissy said quietly, “don’t.”

Philip looked surprised again - only this time, the expression looked more rehearsed.  “I just thought you’d enjoy a view of our garden.  Besides, Jacob’s friend is back there.  He’s about your age.  You can keep each other company.”

Eddie scowled, but stayed silent.  This guy was good.  He knew exactly how to insult a person to their face without saying anything overtly offensive.  If Eddie called him out, Philip could just plead ignorance, making Eddie look like the unreasonable one.

Jesus, no wonder Chrissy was stressed out.  Living like this must have been exhausting.

Maybe if he’d grown up around this sort of crap, he’d be able to beat Philip at his own game.  But he didn’t.  His only choices were to make things harder for Chrissy by raising a stink, or quietly take the insult.

The answer was obvious.  But it still went up his ass sideways.  

Turning to Chrissy, he cupped her face in both hands and kissed her firmly on the lips.  “I’ll be in the back,” he said, as though it was his idea.  “If you need anything - anything - you holler.  Got it?”

“Got it.”  She wrapped her arms around his neck.  Leaning up on tiptoe, she whispered, “Thank you,” and pressed a kiss to his earlobe.

Mollified, he let Chrissy go.  He waited for her to disappear behind the front door before he headed to the back.

The garden in the back looked nice, he had to admit.  The lawn was manicured to perfection; if he held a level to the very tips of the grass, the bubbles would all be dead center.  There were flowering shrubs, small fruit trees too young to bear anything but the sourest fruit, and various blossoms growing up from the ground.  The garden beds were covered in a thick blanket of red mulch - perfect to hide away the unpleasant sight of soil.  And in the very center of the garden was a whitewashed gazebo.

Eddie caught sight of a familiar face.  One he hadn’t seen since he graduated.  “That you, Byers?”

The younger boy looked up.  Well, “boy” was the wrong term.  Will had to be twenty-one by now - old enough to drink.  His hair was shorter now.  Someone must’ve finally convinced his mom to keep the bowl and scissors away from his head.

He looked surprised, but not unpleasantly so.  “Eddie?  What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I guess.  Banished to the ‘friend’ section.”  He stepped into the gazebo and flopped onto the wooden bench opposite Will.  

“Yeah, but what are you doing here?” he pressed.

Eddie lit up a cigarette and took a long drag.  “Chrissy’s brother didn’t tell you we were coming?”

“Jake told me his sister was coming with her boyfriend, but not that the boyfriend was you.”  Will wrinkled his nose at the smoke, but didn’t complain.  

Eddie nodded.  He jerked his head toward the house.  “So.  Do the parental units know?”

To his credit, Will didn’t play dumb.  “Mrs. Cunningham definitely doesn’t.  I think Mr. Cunningham figured it out, but they’ve got a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell” thing going on.  So… I’m the ‘friend’ who comes over for dinner a lot.”

“And you’re cool with that?” Eddie asked, incredulous.

Will gave him an overly patient look.  “Of course not.  But they’re paying for Jake’s college.  If they pull the money…”

“He’d have to get a job,” Eddie finished for him.  He flicked some ash onto the pristine white floor.  “Not the end of the world.”

“Says the literal rockstar.”

“Fair,” Eddie conceded.  “But I worked my fair share of dead-end jobs to get where I’m at.  I’m just saying, seems to me like he’s stuck on Mommy and Daddy’s money.”  When Will glared, he raised his hands placatingly.  “I’m not trying to be a dick.  Just looking out for my flock, that’s all.”

“I haven’t been one of your ‘sheep’ in years,” Will pointed out.  “And for your information, not that it’s any of your business, that money from Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham paid for my rent and my books the last three semesters.  He gives me part of his allowance so I don’t have to work my way through school.”

“Alright, alright.  Sorry I said anything.”

“What do you have against Jake, anyway?  You’ve never even met him,” Will pressed.

That gave Eddie pause.  He considered.  True, he’d never even seen the kid, or heard his voice.  He saw a couple photos at Chrissy’s place.  He looked every bit the cliche all-American good boy everyone thought Jason Carver was: blond, athletic, clean-cut, and handsome.  The kind of person who treated Eddie like dirt.

No.  No, that wasn’t it.  Eddie gave back as good as he got from punks like Carver.  It was people like Chrissy who suffered.  That was his problem.  Chrissy and her brother were both playing the same game according to the rules their parents gave.  But the same rules that gave her brother a free ride through school and an allowance big enough to pay rent… had nearly killed Chrissy.  It wasn’t fucking fair.

He told Will as much, in fewer words.  

“No, it’s not fair,” Will agreed.  “Know what else isn’t fair?  Jake’s been keeping this whole thing with their mom under wraps for ages.  He’s been seeing the therapist on campus because he’s got nobody to talk to about this.  His dad’s basically falling apart, his sister gets weird and hangs up any time their mom comes up, and you can only mention your dying mom so many times before all your friends think you’re a bummer and stop hanging out with you.”  He leaned back and crossed his arms.  “But sure.  Blame him for not being able to magically fix the whole family when he was just a kid.”

Chastened, Eddie took a long drag of his cigarette.  “Sorry,” he offered on an exhale.  “You’re right, that was shitty of me.  This is all just a lot.”

“You’re telling me.  I’ve been dealing with it for months,” Will said humorlessly.  “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think like that about Chrissy sometimes.  ‘How come she gets to just up and leave?  Why can’t she deal with this, too?’  I said that to Jake, once,” he confessed.  He turned his head to one side, staring sightlessly out at the flowers.  “He got really upset.  He doesn’t blame her for leaving, you know.  Not one bit.  It’s just hard sometimes.”

“I don’t think Chrissy blames Jake either,” Eddie said.  He tried to keep a straight face.  It wasn’t that he was lying; it was that he was coming to the uncomfortable realization that he didn’t know.  He hadn’t asked how Chrissy felt about her brother at all.  In fact, generally his go-to method of dealing with Chrissy’s trauma was to distract her from it.  Most days, it worked.  But he was starting to understand that he wasn’t helping her deal with her emotions; he was just helping her avoid them.  And that wasn’t helpful on days like today when they were unavoidable.

Maybe that needed to change.  He just wasn’t sure where to start.

Just then, the back door slammed open, and Chrissy strode out, back ramrod straight, hands fisted at her sides.  Her brother was right behind her.

Eddie was on his feet, stubbing his cigarette out on the gazebo railing, even before a thin, reedy voice called out after her.  “Chrissy!  I wasn’t finished speaking!  I don’t - “

Whatever she said next was cut off when Chrissy’s brother shut the door with a shove.  “Whoops,” he said unrepentantly.

Eddie’s estimation of Jacob went up in that moment.  Chances were pretty high he’d catch shit for that later.

The moment he was within arm’s length of her, Chrissy buried her face in Eddie’s chest.  Her thin frame shook with silent sobs.  Eddie rubbed his hands up and down her bare arms soothingly.  

“Can we go?” she asked.  Her plaintive voice was muffled into his shirt, which was already growing damp.  “Please, Eddie, I need to get away.”

“Away from the house, or away from Hawkins?” he asked, game for either.

“Away from the house.”  She turned her head to glare mutinously through her tears toward the back door.  “I never want to see this place again.”

Eddie nodded.  That was fine with him.  He started to shepherd her toward the car, but paused and looked over his shoulder.  Will was running a hand up and down Jake’s back in a soothing gesture that a willfully blind person might take as platonic.  

“You guys need a ride anywhere?” he asked.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chrissy look up and give him a watery smile.  

 “We’re okay,” Will said quietly.  

Jake fished in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, which he jingled.  “Got our own ride, thanks.”

Eddie nodded, and didn’t push.  “We’re gonna head out, but uh… summer break’s coming.  I think you two would like California.  If you guys wanna come out for a few weeks, hit me up.  Chrissy can give you my number.”

He didn’t stick around for a response.  His priority was Chrissy.  Once he got her tucked away in the passenger seat, he started up the car.  He peeled out in a satisfying spectacle of squealing tires and burning rubber that brought curious neighbors to their windows.

Silence stretched on in the car, interrupted only by the occasional wet sniffle.  Eddie struggled to think of what to say.  If it were him, he’d want someone to break the tension - shock a laugh out of him with a truly fucked up joke.

About a dozen stupid jokes sat on the tip of his tongue, ready to be fired off.  His personal favorite was, never thought I’d see the day I felt bad for cancer, but I wouldn’t wish Laura Cunningham on my worst enemy.  

Not the time.  His morbid sense of humor might help him process shit like this, but Chrissy didn’t work like that.  

He needed to get a feel for where her head was at.  “Went pretty bad in there, huh?” he probed.

For a solid thirty seconds, Chrissy didn’t answer.  She just stared off into the middle distance, tears leaking silently down her cheeks.  When she finally spoke, her voice was a hoarse whisper.

“She… she didn’t even listen to what I had to say.”

There it was: his cue.  He didn’t need to find the magic words to make this go away.  They didn’t exist.  But he could do what her mom didn’t, what she’d never done a day since Chrissy was born: he could hear her out.

Eddie pulled the car over and threw it in park.  Then he turned to her and waited patiently, giving her his full attention.  He didn’t ask questions or prompt her in any way; he just let her say what she wanted, in her own time.

“She didn’t even look like her.  Her face, her hair… she was in her pajamas.  She never let herself be seen like that, not in the middle of the day.  If I saw her on the street, I wouldn’t recognize her.”  Her lips quirked humorlessly, followed by a fresh wave of tears.  “I know that’s a stupid thing to focus on, but… it was all I could think about the whole time.”

“Not stupid,” he said, taking her hands in his.  He was all too familiar with how the brain sometimes focused on the unimportant stuff when everything else was too big to handle.

“I tried telling her about India, and California, and how happy I am, and she… she just kept bringing it back to her.”  Chrissy’s voice was heavy with bitterness.  “Her disappointment.  Her plans I ruined.  Her friends whose kids live perfect lives.  She hasn’t seen me in seven fucking years, and…”  Her eyes went wide with some sudden realization.  She began to sob in earnest.  “And she’s never going to see me again.  This was her last chance, she knows that, she has to, and she still couldn’t…

“Why can’t she love me?”

Her voice was small, but full to bursting with pure, concentrated pain.  Instinctively, Eddie shoved the driver seat back as far as it would go and hauled Chrissy onto his lap.  Her entire chest heaved as sobs wracked her body, bursting from her mouth in loud, hiccupping wails that tore Eddie’s heart from his chest and ripped it to pieces.

This was what he’d been afraid would happen.  Chrissy was the most loving person he’d ever met.  She held her heart out in cupped hands, offering love to anyone who wanted it, and all she asked in return was to be loved back.  Even though it left her open to getting hurt.

He knew Laura wasn’t going to change.  A little thing like her imminent mortality wasn’t going to fix her black, withered heart.  But Chrissy obviously hoped she would.  To her, this weekend was about finding closure in a mother who regretted mistreating her. But that was simply never going to happen.

He held her close, her legs slung across his lap, as she grieved for her mother.  Not just the mother she got, but the mother she was finally realizing never existed.  One who loved her for who she was.  When her breath came in rapid, hitching gasps, he encouraged her to breathe, rocking her slowly and rubbing her back with long, languid passes of his hand.  The side of his neck was wet with tears and other fluids.  

After what felt like an eternity, her tears ran out.  She slumped limply against him.  Between that and the slowing of her breath, he thought she’d managed to cry herself to sleep.

Then she spoke.  Her voice sounded distant, worn out, and hollow.

“I don’t know why I bothered.  Sorry for dragging you here just to watch me be stupid.”

God, he wanted to tip her upside down and shake the self loathing out of her like a nerdy kid’s lunch money.  Instead, he settled for resting his chin on top of her head. 

“Hey.  You’re not stupid.  Okay?  Not stupid.”

She laughed, if it could even be called that.  It was more of a humorless puff of breath against his neck.  “I keep hoping maybe she’ll change, but she never does.  If that’s not stupid, what is it?”

“Strength.”  The word was out of his mouth before he even knew it was there.  When she didn’t respond, he kept going.  “You don’t give up on people.  Even when they don’t deserve it, you give them a chance to be better.”

“And then I fall apart when they don’t,” she muttered bitterly.

“No shame in that.  I ever tell you about the time I broke my nose at a Judas Priest show?”

“Eddie…”  She leaned back to look at him tiredly.

“I’m making a point, I promise.”  She nodded, sighing.  Her face was red, her eyes puffy from crying.  He used the sleeve of his flannel shirt to gently wipe away her tears while he told his story.  “I went with the guys.  The mosh pit was getting wild, and Murph and Gareth bowed out.  Jeff and I were dumb enough to stay in.  Then the band started playing Breaking the Law, and bam!  Combat boot to the face.  I felt my nose crunch.  Blood everywhere.”

“Ew.”

“Yup.  It sucked.  Know what I did?”

“Got right back up and kept moshing,” she said.  She sounded so certain of his courage and fortitude.

Eddie shook his head.  “Nope.  Went to the bathroom, had myself a cry in the stall - which stays between you and me, Cunningham, I’ve got a reputation to protect - and got a drink and some ice from the bar.  I stayed on the sidelines for the rest of the night.”  There was a strand of hair glued to her face with tears.  Tenderly, he tucked it behind her ear.  “But you, Cunningham?  I’ve seen you take a dive off a pyramid, dust yourself off, and keep on cheering.  I know for a fact that when life kicks you in the face, you pick yourself up and keep on dancing.  That’s who you are.”

“Yeah, right.  I’m just the same pathetic, scared little girl I always was.”

He sighed.  Whether she knew it or not, meeting with her mom had given her space in Chrissy’s head - space the bitch didn’t deserve.  She might not be second guessing her choices, but all that negative self-talk was pure Laura.

He couldn’t stand to listen to her talk about herself like that.  He’d give anything to show her just how amazing she was.  But she wasn’t in a good place to listen.  If he wanted to get through to her, he needed something concrete.

He didn’t really have anything like that.  But he could give her the next best thing: proof that he noticed her long, long before that first night in California.

“Can I show you something?”

She sniffled.  Her expression was wary, but curious.  “What?”

“It’s a surprise.  But we’ll have to drive to get there.”  Reluctantly, he eased her back into the passenger seat.  As tempting as it was to keep her on his lap and do his best to drive, he had no plans on getting pulled over, or worse.  Chrissy had been through enough today.

They were there in five minutes.  When he pulled into a parking spot, Chrissy looked around, confused.  “The school?  That’s the last place I expected you to take me.”

He threw the car into park.  “Trust me, princess, I’d rather die than set foot back in that hellhole.”

There was a pause.  Then, in a timid voice: “Would you do it for me?”

A flippant retort was on the tip of his tongue.  But one glance at Chrissy told him it was a bad idea.  She still looked too damn fragile for his liking.  Instead, he ran his fingers through her impossibly soft, rose gold hair.  She blinked at him, slowly, like a cat.

“Yeah, Chrissy.  For you?  I’d put myself through another six years of that.”

That was as close to a declaration of devotion as he wanted to get at the moment.  He had an inkling, ludicrous as it was, that she just might be starting to feel just as strongly for him as he’d always felt for her.  But he wasn’t sure.  And now was basically the worst time to spring that sort of shit on Chrissy.  She had more than enough on her plate.

Her smile was so achingly vulnerable that it made his throat tighten.  “I would, too.”

The hand still cupping the back of her head twitched at her words.  Holy shit.  For her to say that, just after the disastrous visit with her mom… holy shit.  He must be doing something right.

Maybe that A+ in Chrissy’s Boyfriend wasn’t out of reach.

He led her across the school’s empty track and field.  There must have been some sort of event earlier in the morning; the school’s custodian was in the bleachers, picking up discarded cups and wrappers.  A track meet, probably.

On the far side, the woods loomed, their leaves rustling in the breeze.  As they got close, Chrissy’s breath hitched.

“Are we going where I think we’re going?”

“Probably.  I’m not getting bonus points for originality on this one,” he said lightly.

The path through the woods was as well-trod as the day he met her.  Even after seven years, he still could’ve walked the path blindfolded.  It only took five or ten minutes tromping through to woods to come to a familiar clearing.

The old picnic table had barely chanced.  It had a few more rotted edges, a couple more bits of graffiti carved in the surface, but otherwise it was just how he left it.

“Your spot,” Chrissy breathed.  There was more reverence in her voice than a shitty picnic table in the middle of the woods really deserved.  

Our spot, he didn’t have the balls to say.  It was how he’d thought of it ever since the day she’d shown up there, right before spring break.  Before that day, it was the place where he conducted business.  Once Chrissy stepped into the clearing in her pristine white sneakers, it was hallowed ground.

Stepping forward, Chrissy ran the tips of her fingers over the mossy, decaying tabletop.  “I was so nervous when you told me to meet you back here,” she confessed.  “Half the school thought you sacrificed animals to the devil.  I didn’t believe the rumors, but you were so…”

“Mean and scary,” he finished, an unresolved echo finally returning to them after seven long years.  “I felt the same way.  I didn’t know if you really wanted to buy weed, or if you were gonna have some teacher bust me, or Carver and his goons jump me.  This spot was home territory.”

“I never would’ve done that,” she said, frowning.

“I know that now,” he assured her.  

She nodded absently.  Slowly, she walked the length of the table, trailing her hand along the surface.  “So was this what you wanted to show me?” she asked when she reached the corner.

“Sort of.  Gimme a sec.”  He lowered himself to the leaf-strewn ground.  Lying on his back, he scooted backward until his head was under one of the picnic table benches.  Yup - it was still there.  He doubted anyone had even glanced at it since him. But someone had managed to stick a few wads of gum to it.  Made sense - that was what the underside of a seat was basically made for.

Chrissy stood next to him.  With the picnic table in the way, all he could see of her was her pink workout pants and white sneakers.  The toe of one shoe twisted in the dirt.  “What are you doing down there?”

He wrinkled his nose as he started peeling away the hardened, colorful blobs.  “Sampling a selection of used gum.  Any requests?  I bet some of ‘em still have a little flavor left.”

“Gross.”

“Your loss.”  When he finished prying the last wad of gum loose, he dusted off the underside of the bench with his hand.  Dirt and bits of rotted wood fell into his face and hair.  “Okay, come on down.  This is what I wanted to show you.”

Chrissy lowered herself to the ground with decidedly more grace than he’d managed.  She lay on the ground next to him with her head pillowed on his shoulder.

For nearly a full minute, she was silent.  Then, she reached up with one finger and traced the letters carved into the rain-soft wood.  “E.M. + C.C.,” she whispered.  Her fingers drifted outward, to the heart surrounding the letters.  Carved flames licked the bottom of the heart, which he’d scorched with his lighter for added effect.  “This… you didn’t just carve this.  This has been here a long time.”  

“It has,” he agreed.  “That’s what I wanted to show you.  You talk about how pathetic you were back then, but that’s never what I saw when I looked at you.  Not once.”

She turned.  Wide, desperate eyes searched his.  “All this time?  Did you… did you carve this after we met that day?”

“Full disclosure?” he asked.  She nodded.  “I’ve had it bad for you for like, a stupid long time.  The guys’ve been ragging on me for years.”

He didn’t mention that he’d carved those initials in his junior year.  That was the year Chrissy’s freshman year started, and Eddie’s innocent puppy love crush turned into unrequited adolescent yearning.  Doodling in his notebook wasn’t enough; he’d needed to tear their initials into something permanent and burn them in place so they’d last.  Just a totally normal, well-adjusted reaction to a pretty cheerleader who didn’t know he existed.  No big.

“Me too,” she said softly.  Eddie gaped at her wordlessly.  She didn’t mean it - couldn’t mean it.  There was no way she’d wanted him all this time.  But when her hand touched his face, caressing his cheek like he was something precious and irreplaceable, he had to believe.  “I wanted to tell you so many times back then.  When it was just you and me at your place, smoking and eating junk food and watching bad TV… crying on your shoulder when things got bad… you were so sweet and funny and kind.  You were everything I wanted.”

His heart leaped in his chest.  He rolled onto his side and took her face in his hands.  Her lips parted in an invitation he couldn’t resist.  Her kiss was sweet, with a salty tang from the tears she’d shed.  He poured thirteen years of pent-up yearning into that kiss, showing her without words how desperately he’d pined for her for all this time.

“I wish you’d told me,” he lamented breathlessly when their lips parted.  “If I knew… everything would’ve been different.”

“Me too.”  Tears sparkled in her still-red eyes.  He kissed each of her eyelids soothingly.  She’d cried more than enough today.  “But I wasn’t ready.  You saved me back then, but I needed to learn how to save myself.  I needed to find myself before I could be with anyone.”

“I’m glad you did.”  He meant it from the bottom of his heart.  As bad as today was, it was nothing compared to what things were like for her when they were teens.  Chrissy had never been weak, but time and hard work had made her so much stronger.

“I’m glad I found you,” she said.  “Eddie, I wouldn’t change anything that happened after high school, but now… I just want to be your everything.”  

Her arms twined around his neck as she hitched a thigh up over his hip.  It wasn’t sexual; she wasn’t trying to get his clothes off.  She was just holding him like she never wanted to let him go.

“You are,” he said, burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair.  “You… god, Chrissy, you’re my fucking world.”

There was so much more he wanted to tell her.  That he was in love with her, had been in love with her before he was even old enough to understand what that meant.  That she was it for him; if shit went south, and they didn’t work out, he was out of the dating game for good.  That he wanted to move her into his place and marry her and give her as many of his kids as she could stand.

Hell, he was starting to think she might be receptive to all that.  Insane as it was, Chrissy Cunningham spent her years in India longing for him.

But he couldn’t tell her all of that.  Not now, not today, with Laura Cunningham’s presence looming over the whole day like some hateful specter.  Adoration might have loosened his tongue, but pure spite kept his lips sealed.

Chrissy stirred lightly against him.  “Do you think…”

“What?”

She shook her head.  “No, never mind.  It was silly.”

“Ask me anyway,” he insisted.

He felt her tiny fingers fidgeting with the collar of his t-shirt.  “Do you think we could go see your old house?  I just… I want to go someplace good, and some of my best memories were there.”

He melted.  Eddie Munson was a human being no longer; he was a goopy puddle of sticky, mushy, syrupy sweet feelings all for one Chrissy Cunningham.

He checked his watch with a grimace.  “Wayne won’t be leaving for work for a few hours.  We could sneak in after he leaves…”  He trailed off as a thought occurred to him.  “Or we could drop in and surprise him.”

“Will he mind?” she asked, clearly into option two.

“Nah.  He’s always on me to visit.  Besides, if he finds out I came all the way out here without even saying hi, I’ll never hear the end of it.”  Together, the two of them stood up and dusted dirt and dead leaves off their clothes.  “What do you say, princess?  Wanna try round 2 of Meet the Parents?”

Her smile dimmed.  “As long as it goes better than Round One.”

Shit.  Terrible choice of words.  “It’ll be fine.  He’ll just be happy I’m settling down with someone.”

With a glimmer of happiness on her face, Chrissy reached up and plucked twigs and leaves from his hair.  He couldn’t return the favor; anything she might’ve picked up slid cleanly out of her straight, silky-smooth hair. That was just like her.  No matter what grime the world chucked her way, she came out the other side clean.

“There,” she said once she was satisfied she’d gotten every last bit of dead tree from his mop.  “Perfect.”

Eddie was right.  When they pulled up to the Munson trailer, Wayne was on the front porch enjoying a cup of coffee before work.  The second Eddie stepped out of the car, Wayne put down his mug and approached with a poorly concealed grin.

“Finally dragged your ass out to see your old uncle, didja?”  He yanked Eddie into a back cracking bear hug.

Eddie clapped his uncle on the back.  “Had to come shut you up sooner or later, old man.  If you kicked it before I visited, your ghost would haunt me.”

“To the end of your days,” Wayne agreed.  He pushed Eddie out to arm’s length.  “Let me get a good look at you.”  Eddie flinched away as Wayne ruffled his hair the way he used to do when he was a kid.  “All that big-time rockstar money and you still can’t afford a haircut?  Give me some scissors and a mixing bowl and I’ll fix that right up.”

“Over my dead body,” Eddie said, remembering the horrible bowl cut Will used to sport.

“Least you won’t look like a hobo in your casket,” Wayne shot back.  With one last pat, he took his hands off Eddie’s shoulders and turned.  “Chrissy, right?  Ed’s told me a lot about you.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, holding out a hand to shake.

Wayne’s weathered, callused paw completely engulfed Chrissy’s tiny little doll fingers.  “Pleasure,” he said, jerking his head toward the door.  “Come on in.  You staying for… well, my breakfast, your dinner?  All I got’s breakfast food, but I can whip up something filling.”

“I love breakfast for dinner.”  

The fervent yearning in Chrissy’s voice made the corners of Wayne’s eyes crinkle.  “Well, alright then.  C’mon inside.”  As he walked to the front door, he glanced over his shoulder at Eddie.  “Actually, you came here at the perfect time.  Something came in the mail the other day I wanted to ask you about.”

“Sure.”  Eddie wondered what it was.  Anything mailed to him here would be over a decade out of date.  Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been too important, or else Eddie would’ve updated his address ages ago.

Probably.

Stepping inside was like being transported back in time.  Same worn carpet, same beat up couch, same collection of mugs and hats on the walls.  There were some changes, though.  The folding cot Wayne used to sleep on was gone, which was no surprise.  The dark, heavy curtains had been replaced with lacy ones that let more light in.  Most surprising of all was the long-haired tortoiseshell cat twining itself around Eddie’s ankles.

Chrissy squatted down with a squeal of delight.  “Who’s this?” she asked as the cat butted its head against her hand, demanding affection.

“That’s Kitty Kitty,” Wayne replied, rummaging through a pile of mail.  “She was a stray.  I fed her one time and she decided she wasn’t gonna leave.  Claud convinced me to make it official.  So now I guess we’re stuck with each other.”

Well, well, well - someone managed to convince Wayne “once you’re out of the house I ain’t taking care of so much as a goldfish” Munson to get a pet, huh?  Interesting.  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that “Claud” was a girlfriend.

Eddie snorted.  “Claude, huh?  Didn’t know you swung that way, old man.”

“Har dee har har.  You’re a fucking riot, Ed,” he said drily.  

“So who’s the lucky lady?  Claud’s short for Claudia, I’m assuming.”

“Sure is.  In fact, you used to hang out with her kid.”  That wasn’t surprising.  Small town and all.  Wayne started pulling a stack of papers out of the mail he was sorting.  “That weird, snotty kid with the weird teeth.  What’s his name.”

Oh for fuck’s sake.  That could only mean one person.  “Please tell me you’re not making Dustin Henderson my future cousin.”

Wayne scoffed.  “It’s way too early for that kind of talk.”  Which, Eddie noted with horror, wasn’t a no.  Before he could chase that line of inquiry, Wayne slapped some papers on the kitchen table.  “Mind telling me what the hell these are?” he growled.

Eddie glanced at the papers, immediately recognizing the logo on the legal letterhead.  Well, shit - the cat was out of the bag.  They were supposed to send the paperwork to him, not Wayne!

But Eddie wouldn’t be Eddie if he didn’t try to squirm his way out of trouble with the old man.  So he played dumb.  “Nope.  Looks important, though.”

Off to one side, Chrissy’s wide, nervous eyes darted between the two of them.  “Do I… should I give you some privacy?” she asked in a half-whisper.

Eddie waved a dismissive hand.  “Nah, he’s bluffing.  If he were actually pissed, he’d’ve dragged me off into another room for ‘help fixing something.’”

Wayne scowled at that without any real heat.  Picking the papers back up, he read the top of each one before setting it down, one by one, on the table.  

“Promissory note, canceled.  Deed of ownership.  Notice of loan fulfillment.  Certificate of satisfaction.  And a big ol’ check for excess funds in escrow.”  He pinned Eddie with a glare.  “So help me, Ed, if you paid off my house…”

“Who says it was me?” he asked, trying to look innocent.

“The god damn bank did when I called, that’s who!”

Crap.  So much for secrecy.  “I’ve got another album coming out in a couple months.  I’ll get the money back in no time.”

“Damn it, Ed, didn’t you hear a word I said about saving your money?” Wayne demanded.  “What if the album flops?  Or the record label goes under?  Or a million other things that could go wrong!”

“Then I’ll get another job like normal jack-offs get,” he quipped.  Wayne looked mutinous.  Not wanting to actually argue in front of Chrissy after the day she’d had, he relented.  “Look, man, it was the least I could do.  Without you, I’d probably be cellmates with my dad right now.  I owe you my life.”

“Bullshit, boy.  You don’t owe me jack.  Everything you’ve got, you earned,” Wayne growled.

“Because you put me in a place where I could!”  Eddie grabbed the stack of papers and shook them.  “You deserve this. Iknow for a fact you worked your ass off and delayed your retirement to keep a roof over my head.  You didn’t have to do that.  And you sure as hell didn’t need to keep doing it after I failed senior year twice.”

“Bullshit.  We’re kin.  We look out for our own,” Wayne interjected.

God, Wayne was impossible.  He was like a dog with a bone when he got an idea in his head.  Unfortunately for the old man, that stubbornness was a Munson trait Eddie had inherited in spades.

Before he could say anything else and let things get out of hand, Chrissy stepped in.  “Don’t you see?  That’s exactly what Eddie’s doing.  He’s looking out for you.”

That seemed to stop Wayne dead in his tracks.  He opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it shut after looking into Chrissy’s eyes.  Maybe he didn’t want to be rude to a guest.  Maybe he belatedly realized that their bickering was getting a little heavy for polite company (not that the two of them had ever been considered polite company).  

Both were possibilities.  But Eddie suspected his uncle was just as soft for Chrissy as he was.  There was a subtle charm to her that she couldn’t see, some unseen power that had people eating from the palm of her hand.  It was how she managed to become head cheerleader and prom queen without getting sucked into mean girl politics.  It showed in how she could leave a classroom of middle-aged moms feeling good about themselves after an hour long yoga session.  Eddie had scented it in the air around her the first time they met, and he’d been hooked ever since.  There was only one word in the English language he could think of that even came close to describing it: magic.

“Well, I s’pose you’ve got a point,” Wayne grudgingly admitted.  He jabbed one finger in Eddie’s direction.  “But if your band goes belly-up, don’t come crawling back here looking for a couch to crash on!”

Yeah, right.  He loved the old man (not that he’d tell him to his face), but the two of them made for shit roommates.  He’d join a Beatles cover band before he moved back in.

With the awkward conversation done, Wayne bustled about the kitchen whipping up breakfast.  “Nothing fancy, mind,” he cautioned them as he put three halved buttermilk biscuits under the broiler.

“Yeah, right.  Are those homemade biscuits?” Eddie demanded.  “When I lived here, it was off-brand cereal for breakfast.  What, did you wait til the second I moved out to turn into Suzie Homemaker?”

Wayne’s eyebrows raised toward his nonexistent hairline.  “What, these?  Nah, you know I can’t bake worth a damn.  Claud always brings me extra baked goods.”

“Hallelujah.  Thank you, Dustin’s Mom.”  He pulled out a kitchen chair for Chrissy, then took one for himself.

Wayne moved around the kitchen with the laid back efficiency of a man following his daily routine.  On an oversized skillet he cracked three eggs and laid three slices of ham.  He seasoned everything with salt and pepper as they sizzled.

Chrissy’s fingers drummed restlessly on the tabletop.  “Can I give you a hand?” 

Without turning from the stove, he raised his spatula in the air and waved it dismissively.  “Kitchen’s not big enough for two,” he lied easily as he added salt and pepper to the eggs.

Eddie snorted.  If Chrissy weren’t here, Wayne would be putting him to work without hesitation.  But since she was a guest, they both got to take it easy.

In just a few minutes, three piping hot breakfast sandwiches were plated and on the table.  To drink, Wayne had nothing but coffee or tap water.  Chrissy chose water, saying that coffee would keep her up all night, and Eddie followed suit.  Honestly, he could drink caffeine all day and still pass out the second his head hit the pillow.

They made small talk while they ate.  Eddie went first, updating Wayne on the latest the band was up to.  Honestly, there wasn’t too much to report; their weekly phone calls covered pretty much everything.  Wayne went next, updating Eddie with the latest from the plant.

Chrissy, on the other hand, got a slew of questions from Wayne.  What was India like?  Did they really worship cows there?  What made her decide to stay there for so long?  Yoga?  What was that - some kinda weird sex thing?

“Oh my god, Wayne,” Eddie moaned, hiding his face behind one hand.  “You’re thinking of tantra, not yoga.”

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that?” he grumbled into his coffee.

“Actually, that’s not really true, either,” Chrissy corrected.  She placed her half-eaten sandwich down on her plate.  Reaching to the middle of the table, she pulled a napkin from the ceramic holder and used it to delicately dab her lips.  “Tantra is… well, it’s a lot of things.  I don’t want to bore you with the details, but it’s a way of life.  It’s about…”  Her eyes took on a dreamy, faraway look.  “It’s about finding beauty, meaning, and sensuality in everything.  And yeah, sex is included in that,” she offered with a placating glance to Eddie, “but it’s just one way of celebrating the divine energy that flows through everything.”

“Ohhh,” Eddie said, nodding sagely.  “Like the Force.  Gotcha.”

Wayne rolled his eyes.  “Christ, not that Jedi crap again.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Chrissy said diplomatically.  God, he had to show her Star Wars.  “Anyway, I’m not exactly an expert or guru.  I know what works for me personally, but I wouldn’t try and teach other people.  Mostly I focus on the physical aspects of yoga: stretching, strengthening, and stress relief.”

Eddie realized, with an unsettling jolt, that he’d never really asked her about this stuff.  He watched her teach at the gym a few times.  And on nights when she stayed at his place, she did some basic exercises before bed and first thing in the morning.  And he’d done that one session with her, which had been relaxing, if a little boring.

But all the spiritual stuff?  She’d barely mentioned it, and he hadn’t thought to ask.  She’d sat through marathon sessions of Mario Kart, Final Fantasy, and Donkey Kong, but he didn’t know jack shit about this.  He needed to do better.

“I bet you could teach people,” he said, meaning it.  She was cheer captain back in high school.  Not only could she lead her cheer squad through their routines, she could whip an entire gymnasium of apathetic teens into a frenzy about a basketball game nobody gave a shit about.

“You really think so?” she asked, her lips curling slightly with hope and delight.

Eddie nodded.  “Absolutely.  Hell, you could start a cult and have people lining up out the door for kool-aid.”

Chrissy turned the full force of her pout on him.  “I can’t believe you think I’d do something like that!”

Shit.  What did he say?  She didn’t actually think he was calling her beliefs a cult, did she?

Before he could fall over himself explaining himself, her mask broke, her glare splitting into a sly grin.  “I’d put the poison in fresh-squeezed lemonade.  I have standards, you know.”

“Only the best for your members,” he agreed with a chuckle.

Wayne looked back and forth between the two of them.  With a shake of his head, he stood up and started collecting their place.  “Jesus Christ, you two really were made for each other.”

Eddie felt his face go hot.  Which was totally ridiculous.  His feelings for Chrissy were nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of.  Especially since, judging by the pink flush in her cheeks and the shy smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, she was just as pleased by Wayne’s words as he was.  He was right; they were made for each other.

But Chrissy was right, earlier, when she said that something about coming back to Hawkins felt like being a kid again.  It wasn’t so apparent in the hotel, or the rental car, or even Chrissy’s backyard.  There’d been a thrill of youthful nostalgia at their spot in the woods.  But man - something about being back under Wayne’s roof brought the memories flooding back.

Chrissy jumped up to help Wayne clean up as soon as she realized what he was doing.  Belatedly, Eddie realized he should probably do the same.  Together, the two of them managed to bully Wayne out of the kitchen.  With her washing the dishes and him drying, everything was cleaned up in next to no time.

“Well, I hate to kick you out, but I’ve gotta get ready for work,” Wayne reluctantly said.  Walking up to Eddie, he clapped his nephew on the shoulder.  “Don’t be a stranger, you hear?  Phone calls are nice, but I like seeing you every now and then.”

“Alright, alright,” he muttered.  He refrained from saying that they might be back for a funeral soon.  Wayne had kindly avoided the topic of Chrissy’s mom, and Eddie was perfectly happy to follow suit.  “But the door swings both ways, old man.  You’ve gotta haul your ass over to California one of these days.”

The look of pure distaste on Wayne’s face told Eddie exactly what the old man thought of that idea.  But then Chrissy chimed in.

“Oh, you should!  There’s so much to do out there.  You’ll totally love it!”

Eddie could already see Wayne’s face softening.  No doubt he’d visit by Christmas, grumbling the whole time.

“They have deep sea fishing tours,” he wheedled.

Wayne snorted.  “No sense paying big bucks to go out on a fancy boat on the ocean.  My canoe in the lake works just fine.”  Still, his eyes glinted with interest.

Chrissy stepped up to them.  Eddie took a step back, making room so she could go in for a goodbye hug.

“Thanks for breakfast.  Dinner.  Breakfast-dinner,” she said.  “And…”  Rising up on tiptoe, she whispered something in Wayne’s ear.

Wayne pulled back and stared at her, looking stunned.  Just as quickly, he turned his back on the two of them.  He surreptitiously wiped at his face.

“I’m gonna be late for work,” he said, his voice snagging like gravel on silk.  “Go on, now, get.  You know where the door is.”

Eddie took Chrissy by the elbow and led her out, knowing when to beat a hasty retreat.  Wayne was a private guy; he didn’t like having his feelings on display.

“I’ll call you on Sunday, old man,” he called over his shoulder as they left.

Once they were in the car and on the road, he shot Chrissy an incredulous glance.  “What the hell did you say to him?”

“Nothing bad!  At least, I don’t think it was bad,” she said, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.  Was she blushing?  “I just… thanked him.  For taking care of you.”

Eddie’s heart fucking melted.  No more valves, no more ventricles, just a puddle of goop in his chest.  “Why’d you do that?”

She took his hand in hers.  That was fine; he was good at driving one-handed.  She pressed a soft kiss against his wrist.  

“Because I’m so, so thankful to have you in my life,” she replied in a wavering voice.  “I don’t know where I’d be without you, Eddie.”

“Right back at you, princess.”  Until the night Chrissy came back into his life, he’d been sleepwalking.  Sure, from the outside, his life looked awesome.  He had his band, he had money and a house and adoring fans.  Compared to even a few years ago, he had it made.

But the moment he saw her again, some part of his soul had come back from the dead.  Or at least woke up from a coma.  He hadn’t realized how numb he was until he started feeling things full-force again.

“So where to next?” he asked as they pulled up to the trailer park’s exit.  “Bite to eat?  Trip down memory lane?  Commit some mild vandalism and see if Hopper can finally catch me?”  As if.

Chrissy chewed pensively on her lower lip.  “Did you bring any weed with you?” she asked plaintively.  Before he could answer, she shook her head.  “What am I saying?  We went through airport security.  Of course you didn’t.”

Taking his hand back, he clutched his chest.  “How dare you?  Never have I been so maligned!”  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small, black, plastic film canister.  “Of course I brought weed.  What do you take me for?”

She smiled at him exasperatedly.  “I should’ve known.  You don’t even own a camera.”

“Nope.”  The only pictures he’d taken… pretty much ever… were the ones on Chrissy’s Polaroid.  Neither of them had bothered bringing it; this wasn’t exactly a sightseeing trip, after all.  “Let’s head back to the room, yeah?  We can order delivery, get high, and rent something on Pay-Per-View.”

To his surprise, she shook her head.  “Not the hotel room.  What if we get caught smoking?”

“Then they’ll put us in detention for a week,” he said drily.  

“I’m serious.  I don’t want to get in trouble.”

He knew from experience that they wouldn’t.  He smoked weed in hotel rooms all the time on tour.  The worst that happened was they got a fine - the exact same fine they would’ve gotten for smoking in a non-smoking room.  Most hotels that put up a rock band for the night were just grateful the room wasn’t trashed.

But he didn’t want to argue.  Chrissy went through more than enough stress already.  If she wanted a change of scenery, then a change of scenery she’d get.

But where to go?  There was the picnic table, obviously.  But the sun was already going down, and the air was cool and moist.  Eddie didn’t relish the idea of donating blood to the Hawkins mosquito population.

He’d had multiple fantasies about getting high with Chrissy back in high school.  They could do something there… and if they got caught, probably end up on some “not allowed within five hundred feet of a school” list.  Not exactly a relaxing prospect.

The car was probably their best bet.  As long as they aired it out, the rental agency would be none the wiser.  He just needed the right place to park it.  Someplace that would offer relative privacy, and maybe a nice view.

“Okay.  I know just the place.”  

The drive to Lover’s Lake was maybe twenty minutes, but it took another five to get exactly where he wanted to go.  As he pulled up, Chrissy snickered.

“Makeout Cove?  You really took me to Makeout Cove?”

“Why not?”  He gestured out past the windshield at the vista before them.  The so-called cove was really just the eastern bank of the town’s most noteworthy pond.  Tall grass gave way to the sandy shores of Lover’s Lake.  Eddie remembered the gritty, gravelly beach being rough on the feet of any would-be swimmers. The dark silhouettes of pine trees stood out in stark relief from the still-light sky.  Sunset painted the sky in a riot of colors from pink to orangey red, which the lake reflected in its ripples.  “It’s scenic.  It’s private.  People come here to smoke all the time.”

“And mess around,” she pointed out.  Her seatbelt clicked and whizzed back into its retractor as her tiny little hand dug into his pocket, searching for the canister of weed.

“And mess around,” he conceded.  He’d be lying if a tiny, hopeful kernel in the corner of his brain didn’t think of that.  He wasn’t expecting it, and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna hold today over her head like she owed him a favor, but a guy could dream, right?  He reached into his other pocket and produced a sleeve of rolling papers.  “But I used to make a killing selling here.  Once I was done, I’d smoke a joint, put on some tunes, and just enjoy the view.”

“Sounds peaceful.”  There was a note of envy and longing in her voice as she folded a paper in half, opened it back up, and poured some herb in the crease.  “I came up here a few times.  You know - with Jason.”  As she twisted the joint, her knuckles whitened with more effort than was really necessary.

“I know.”  To keep his hands occupied, he fiddled with the radio.  Of course he knew.  How could he not know?  Every bump and sway of Carver’s BMW made the cracks in Eddie’s heart splinter just a bit more.  

Chrissy licked the edge of the paper to seal it.  When Eddie pulled out his lighter and ignited it, she leaned in and let him light the joint, like an old Hollywood starlet in a black and white movie.  She took a slow puff, holding her breath as she passed the joint to Eddie.  He took a couple of quick, short hits.

“It’s nice to come out here because I want to,” she sighed.  Curls of blue-grey smoke mingled with the words that came from her mouth.  Even before it had a chance to kick in, Eddie could see Chrissy visibly relax.

That’s it, sweet girl.  Just relax, he thought.  As he passed it back to Chrissy, he managed to find an alternative rock station.  Not as heavy as Eddie preferred, or as poppy as Chrissy liked, but a good middle ground.  He couldn’t quite get the signal just right; there was a low fuzz of static in the background no twist of the tuning knob could dispel.  That was fine.  The white noise would blend with their buzz soon enough.

The two of them passed the joint back and forth until there was nothing left but the tiniest stub of paper.  The air around them swam with heavy, aromatic smoke and rock music.  At some point the two of them had gravitated toward the center console, like magnets.  Her head rested on his shoulder, and he leaned his head on hers.

Eddie felt warm, boneless, and utterly, utterly content.  What wasn’t to feel good about?  He had a nice mellow going.  The music pouring from the speakers was tolerable.  Best of all, he had his girl with him.  Smoking had leached all the tension from Chrissy’s body, leaving her limp, relaxed, and just a little giggly.  The haze of smoke was like a magic area of effect spell, one that warded off worry and heartache.

The radio played the opening strains of a familiar, overplayed song.  Eddie snickered.  Today wasn’t the first time he’d gotten high to “Mary Jane’s Last Dance,” and ironically, he doubted it’d be the last.  

She grew up in an Indiana town
Had a good-lookin’ mama who never was around
But she grew up tall and she grew up right
With them Indiana boys on them Indiana nights

Next to him, Chrissy raised a hand and extended it before her.  She fluttered her fingers, and the both of them admired the way the red-gold light of sunset played between them.

“So pretty,” she sighed happily.  

Leaning on one another as they were, Eddie couldn’t turn to look at her.  That was okay.  There was nothing that could make him move away from her in this moment.  He could still see the way the slowly reddening light played on her lightly tanned skin and set her hair aflame.  She seemed to glow, as if the light was coming from within.  His sunshine, his princess, his goddess clad in gold.

“You’re silly,” she giggled, and shit, had he said that out loud?  He couldn’t bring himself to care.  Right now, he was riding on gentle waves of tranquility.  If Chrissy knew how devoted he was to her, that couldn’t be anything but a good thing.  She sighed again, snuggling into him.  “I love sunsets.  When you look at one, everything just slooooows down.  It’s like… the whole world quiets down and holds its breath.”  

“I know what you mean.  I used to do this all the time: have a smoke, watch the sunset, and just fuckin’… exist.  It was like…”  He paused, reaching for a good simile.  “Like popping the cartridge out of my brain and blowing the crap out of it.  You know?”

“Not really.”  Her hand flopped back down to her lap.  “I never got to watch the sunset here.  Guys always drove girls out here for one thing.”

He nodded.  He’d brought a partner or two here, way back when.  It was the place teens went when they couldn’t get privacy anywhere else.  The cops all knew about Makeout Cove, so the idea was to get in, get off, and get out.  

Most everybody Eddie had sex with were from out of town.  His hookups generally took place in the bathroom stall of a bar or concert venue.  Just as rushed, without the risk of arrest or getting ratted out to a parent.  

I feel summer creeping in
And I’m tired of this town again

“Hey, Eddie?”

“Hm?  What’s up, sweetness?”  He did his best to focus.  It was hard, with his head swimming like it was.  But something in Chrissy’s voice told him he needed to listen.

“Can we… I don’t want to be here anymore.  Can we leave?  Please?”

It was a familiar refrain.  She’d said almost the same thing at her parents’ house.  But this time, her voice carried a different note.  He didn’t even have to ask to know she wanted to leave town.

“Like, right now?  Cuz I’m gonna level with you, princess: we do not want to go through airport security looking as high as we do.”

“Uh-uh.  I’m wayyy too tired to deal with flying right now,” she said.  One hand soared through the air like a plane to illustrate her point.  “Have you ever flown high?  Not like, up in the air high but like, high high?  I bet that’d be so nice.”

“Yup.  Best way to do it is to sneak an edible in.  No smoke, no smell.  Just a perfectly innocent brownie or whatever.  As long as there’s no drug sniffing dog, you’re good.”  He’d nearly gotten busted once or twice, but he didn’t mention that.

Chrissy’s voice went low and dreamy as she melted into him even more.  “That sounds so nice.  Just floating with the clouds, looking at all the people all teeny tiny on the ground below… even Hawkins would be small from up there.  Even my mom.”

“She wouldn’t even be a blip on the radar,” he agreed.

“God, that would be nice.  Am I saying nice too much?  It would, though.”

“Yup.”  

In Eddie’s experience, getting high on a plane wasn’t all that different from getting high anywhere else.  It made ignoring crying babies and the lack of leg room a lot easier, at any rate. But dealing with turbulence was a mixed bag.  The last time they flew, Gareth had been dead convinced the plane was going to crash and burn.  They had to spend twenty minutes talking him down.

“You know what else would be nice?”  The sly note in her voice made him shift in his seat so he could see her.  He needn’t have bothered; the small hand on his knee, sliding slowly up the inseam of his jeans, told him exactly what she was thinking.  “Sneaking off into one of those tiny airplane bathrooms and joining the Mile High Club.  The Mile High High Club.”  She giggled at her own joke.

“Trust me, joining the Mile High Club is way overrated - high or not,” he said without thinking.

“Oh.”  The hand on his thigh stilled.  “You’ve… done that before?”

Well, shit.  He didn’t think Chrissy would care about his past.  She never had before.  Obviously, something was different this time.

Well, there was no point lying.  The cat was already out of the bag.  “A couple times, yeah.  Honestly, it kinda sucked.  I mean, the whole ‘risk of getting caught’ thing was fun, but other than that?  It was cramped, awkward, and rushed.”

Chrissy withdrew from him.  Hugging her middle, she leaned against the door and looked out the window.  “Still.  It would’ve been nice to find that out together.”

Yeah.  It would’ve.  And if he’d known he was going to see her again one day, he would’ve held off on a lot of things so they could experience them together.  But that was impossible.  He wasn’t a prophet or a time traveler.  All he could do was try to make her happy with the experience he had now.

He couldn’t for the life of him put it into words, though.  “Chrissy…”

“I’m not mad.  I promise I’m not,” she said, somehow managing to sound stiff even as her words slurred.  “I just… we missed out on so many firsts together.  I guess I just wanted this to be a first for both of us.”

Now he got it.  They’d just found out that for all these years, they’d been secretly pining for one another.  So much wasted time.  If he’d just had the courage to say something back then, everything could’ve been different.  Sure, Chrissy said she didn’t regret having time to discover herself.  But obviously, that didn’t make regret just go away.

“We’ll find new ones.  Better ones,” he promised.  

Already, his mind was spinning out visions of things they could do together.  Not just the kinky shit (though there was plenty of that).  But there was other stuff, too.  Packing her stuff up in boxes and moving it into his place.  Doing boring domestic shit like shopping for furniture together.  Celebrating anniversaries.  And one day, sneaking out to shop for a very important piece of jewelry.

Yeah.  Between the two of them, they might not have a ton of firsts in the sex department.  But he was definitely looking forward to lots of new experiences with Chrissy Cunningham.

“And just so we’re clear,” he continued, reaching out to tenderly cup her cheek, “just because I’ve done something before doesn’t make it any less special.  Okay?  I might’ve done stuff before, but I haven’t done it with my dream girl.  And that, princess, is a whole different ball game.”

Chrissy’s whole face lit up with joy.  She leaned in and pressed her lips, feather-light, to his.

Eddie’s stomach flipped.  He sucked a steadying breath in through his nose.  God, she really had no idea that she had nothing to worry about, did she?  She was bummed out that they’d missed out on so many first times together, meanwhile this had to be their hundredth kiss and it still felt just as thrilling as the first.

Hands shaking, he leaned in and kissed her back.  He tried to keep it chaste.  He really did.  Chrissy had gone through hell today.  And yeah, he managed to salvage the afternoon and evening so she’d hopefully have a good memory or two to pull from this trip.  But he’d be damned if he made Chrissy feel like she owed him for that.

But she was warm, and soft, and tasted so good.  It took all of his self control to hold back.

Then Chrissy’s small, pink tongue darted out to swipe over his lower lip.  And he was lost.  With a rough groan, he deepened the kiss, hungry for more of her.  

Okay, so she was into it.  Awesome.  He definitely wasn’t complaining.  Still, he left the reins in her hands; it’d be up to her to decide how fast they went, and how far.

For a while, Chrissy seemed perfectly content just to keep kissing him.  She explored his mouth leisurely and invited him to do the same to her.  The air between them was heavy with smoke, lust, and rock music as they made out at the town hookup spot like the teens they used to be.  

Eddie was hard as a rock, the inseam of his jeans pressing uncomfortably against his dick.  He reached down and surreptitiously adjusted himself.

And then Chrissy’s hand was there, her heel pressing into his shaft in a way that had his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Jesus Christ, Cunningham,” he muttered through gritted teeth.  His patience snapped.  In one fluid motion, he slammed the seat as far back as it would go and yanked her into his lap.  She came along eagerly, throwing her leg over him so she straddled his hips.  “You’re playing a dangerous game, little girl,” he growled, nipping playfully at her throat.

With a blissful sigh, she tilted her head back.  Her fingers twined in his hair to tug him closer.  “Please, Daddy,” she breathed.

He smiled against the smooth, fragrant column of her neck.  She was ready for him to take care of her.  

“Please what, princess?” he asked.  His hands moved restlessly over her back, sliding the hem of her shirt higher - up and up and up.  “Good girls get what they want, but they have to ask first.”

She whimpered.  “Please touch me.  I need to feel you.”  Even as she said it, her hands grasped the bottom of his shirt and tugged at it impatiently.

“Okay, okay, I’m hearing you,” he soothed.  

He yanked his shirt over his head, balled it up, and tossed it to the back seat.  Before it even landed, Chrissy’s hands were on him, palms mapping his chest with flattering urgency.  They paused only to take the occasional detour to trace the edges of his tattoos.

Not to be outdone, he pushed her shirt up until it was gathered around her sternum.  His hands gravitated toward her tits.  He cupped them gently, admiring how the soft, pale globes looked in his much larger hands.  The last glow of twilight glinted in the bars piercing her sweet, pink nipples.  Today’s pair had balls on each end that were painted pale and iridescent to look like opals.  The pale pink against white looked sweet and delicate, like a confection in the window of a candy shop.  His mouth watered at the sight.

“Fuck, princess.  Prettiest tits I ever saw,” he muttered as he took one into his mouth.

By now, Eddie was experienced in working his way around a piercing.  He knew how hard to bite, when to soothe with his tongue, how to keep the hard balls from clacking unpleasantly against his teeth.  What’s more, he was actually really into it.  The contrast in taste, temperature, and texture between skin and metal on his tongue both fascinated and thrilled him.  Chrissy’s mewls of pleasure and the soft, slow, but insistent undulations of her hips against his stomach only excited him more.  Muzzily, he wondered how other metals and stones would taste, what other shapes and textures would scrape and slide deliciously against his tongue.  Just the thought of it had him taking the barbell between his teeth and giving it a sharp tug.

He was immediately rewarded with a whimper and a tug on his hair that made his eyes water.

“Fuck yes,” he hissed.  While he soothed her abused nipple with a lave of his tongue, he took the other barbell between his thumb and forefinger and tugged.  The sound Chrissy made could only be described as starving.  “You like that, pretty girl?  Like it when I tug on these sweet things?  Maybe we should chain them up next time, so I can do it to both at once.”

“Please.”  Her fingers ran through his hair to his shoulders and arms, caressing him worshipfully.  And again Eddie was reminded that this was something she’d wanted from him for a long time.  For years.

A small part of him, the one corner of his brain that wasn’t utterly consumed with the half-naked nymph in his lap, wondered how much it would cost to convert his D&D room into a walk-in closet for Chrissy.  Complete with drawers for piercings, lengths of rope in all different colors and materials, and whatever sweetly sexy outfits her clever imagination came up with.  

The idea of that - of Chrissy having a place in his home, in his life, that was all hers - consumed him with need.  He needed her, to feel her, to be so deep inside her nothing would ever be able to pull him out.  If he didn’t have her soon, he was going to embarrass himself.

He pulled her down for an urgent kiss.  The move pressed her intimately against the rigid bulge in his jeans, which made them groan in unison.

“Now, baby,” he said, leaving sucking, biting kisses across her jaw and down to her throat.  “It’s gotta be now.  I swear I’ll eat you out til you cry when we get back to the hotel.  But right now I need you.  I need you so bad.”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding eagerly.  She took his lower lip between her teeth and pulled slowly back,  While he was distracted by the agonizing, sensual scrape, she insinuated her hands between them and made short work of his belt and fly.

Eddie tried to return the favor by lifting up her skirt, only to remember with frustrated horror that she was wearing pants.  “Fuck,” he muttered.  The front seat was way too cramped to get them off of her with any semblance of dignity - not unless she got off his lap, which was out of the question.  He tried tugging them down anyway.  But with her straddling him as she was, there was no way to get them off.  “Okay.  Okay, if we move to the back - “

He didn’t get to finish.  Because Chrissy managed, through some miracle of fluidity and acrobatics, to shuffle one leg free from her pants without ever leaving his lap.

Saying “hallelujah” didn’t seem appropriate.  God had nothing to do with his girl’s feat of flexibility.  So he settled for the next best thing.  Taking hold of her hips, he muttered “Namaste” against her skin as he sank into her.  Her amused snicker was cut off with a moan as he pushed inside as deep as he could get.

The moment he felt the heat and wet of her tight sheath, his earlier urgency fled.  He was inside her, right where he wanted to be; having an orgasm was almost beside the point.  He was home, she was home in a way this godforsaken town had never been for him.  Everything else was unimportant.

She locked her gaze with his, her stormy blue-gray eyes wide with an awe that had to be reflected in his own face.  Neither of them moved, not wanting to end the moment stretching between them.

When she slowly began to rock over him, he almost mourned the loss of the moment.  But the tight clutch of her pussy on his length, the smooth glide of her juices, had his head falling back with a groan.  With a giggle, Chrissy ducked her head to lick a trail of fire up his throat.

“Fuck, baby girl, that’s it.  You feel so good,” he murmured.  Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her, long and slow and sweet.  Her soft sigh into his mouth felt like a benediction.

Unhurriedly, luxuriating in the slow drag of bodies parting and meeting, they slowly stoked one another’s desire.  The air between them was sultry with smoke and sweat.  Every rock of their hips made the car creak and sway in time with their timeless dance.  All of the windows were fogged, cutting them off entirely from the outside world.

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light and a tapping at the window.  Eddie could just make out the silhouette of a person with a flashlight through the condensation.

“Alright, you two, wrap it up and get home to your parents,” a bored voice drawled.  Something about it tickled Eddie’s memory.

But that line of thought vanished like smoke on the wind as he took in the look on Chrissy’s face.  Her eyes were wide, her breath coming in short gasps.

He knew that look.  Oh, did he know it.  That was the look she got when a climax snuck up on her out of nowhere.  Her shocked ecstasy provoked a similar reaction in him.  He thrust up into her hard, reveling in her keening whimper.

“You gonna come, baby?  You gonna come with Hopper or Callahan or whatever fucking cop is right outside the window?”  She nodded frantically, too far gone for words.  “Do it.  Come all over me, little girl.  Scream for me.  Let them know what a good girl you are for me.”

She tightened down on him like a vice, her nails biting into his shoulders as she screamed.  Eddie was only a handful of thrusts behind her before he emptied himself into her with a grunt.

He didn’t even get to catch his breath when the flashlight rapped against the window, more insistently this time.  Eddie scowled.

“Alright, you little punks, you had your fun.  Now get out of here before I call your parents.”

Chrissy stiffened in his arms.  And he knew exactly why.  He recognized that voice; they both did.  “Is that…?”

She nodded.  “I think so,” she whispered.  Her face split in a devious, almost malevolent grin.  “Should we roll down the window?”

For anybody else, the answer would be a resounding “no.”  He might not take cops seriously, but he didn’t go out of his way to antagonize them.  But this particular cop?  The opportunity was too good to pass up.

Reaching to one side, he grabbed the window crank and turned it.  As the window rolled down, Chrissy tugged her shirt back down and threw the loose leg of her pants over her hips where their bodies were still connected.  Even then, it was plainly obvious what they’d been doing.

The flashlight shone in their eyes.  “You two - wait, what the hell?  Munson?  Chrissy?”  The light switched off, revealing the bewildered face of Jason Carver.

Eddie smiled lazily.  “Evening, officer.  My girl and I were just in town for a day.  Thought we’d stop at the lake for some fresh air.”

Jason glared, waving a hand pointedly at the smoke wafting through the window.  “So I can see.”  His gaze slid over to Chrissy.  “I heard you joined some hippy commune out in Timbuktu.  Figures you’d wind up with trash like Munson.”

Years ago, he would’ve bristled.  He hated being talked down to - especially by little shits like Carver, who were born on third base and convinced they hit a triple.  And maybe, deep down, he always feared that the folks of Hawkins were right about him: that he was trash.  That he’d never amount to anything but a cell in the same block as his old man.

Now he knew better.  Not because he was semi rich and famous.  But his music touched people.  He had the adoration - and maybe one day, the love - of an incredible woman.  He had friends who would jump into oncoming traffic for him, even if they complained the whole time.

He could throw away the money and music career tomorrow, and he’d still know: he wasn’t trash.  He never had been.

Still draped on top of him, Chrissy turned her head to face Jason, careful not to expose her modesty.  “What can I say?” she asked airily.  Slowly, never breaking eye contact with Jason, she licked a wide stripe up Eddie’s neck.  “I like it filthy.”

Jason scowled, his cheeks darkening.  “Get the hell out of here before I cite you for public indecency,” he snapped.  Turning on his heel, he marched back to his patrol car.

Oh, it killed Eddie not to offer a parting shot.  But he knew better than to push his luck.  He was all to aware that the car reeked like weed.  It’d take very little for Jason to make their lives unnecessarily difficult.

“C’mon, princess.  We’ve got unfinished business back at the hotel room,” he said, making sure his voice carried.  When Jason whipped around, Eddie was already driving away, Chrissy’s sadistic cackle carried on the breeze.