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Chrissy took a deep puff from the joint between her fingertips, letting the burn of the smoke coat her throat and lungs as she held her breath as long as she could before she sighed it out. Lolling her head to the side, she let her eyes drift back over to the other side of the couch where Eddie was sitting, his own eyes heavy lidded as he watched her lips.
He did that sometimes.
She knew she shouldn’t like it.
“Truth,” she finally said, as she reached out to pass the joint back, letting her limbs sink heavy down into the couch.
Eddie hummed, and then was quiet for a long moment, thinking. They were long past the normal questions, and neither of them had even bothered to ask for dare tonight. It was a dumb excuse for a game either way, but something about it set her at ease, like things were safe in this bubble of smoke, here on Eddie’s couch.
“How many guys have you slept with?” he asked, and it wasn’t judgmental, just curious.
Chrissy thought that if she wasn’t high, she might have blushed. “Just Jason,” she admitted, with a sigh. “And he wasn’t very good at it.”
Eddie barked out a laugh, head falling back. “Why’s that, sweetheart?” he asked, and his pet name–the same one he’d been calling her for months–sent something warm sliding down her spine. “Couldn’t make you come?”
Chrissy shifted on the couch. She wanted to be uncomfortable, she thought. Should be. But instead her body felt heavy, her limbs slow to react, and the space between her legs was… hot.
“Um,” she said, and bit a lip. “I guess not?”
Eddie’s head snapped up faster than she thought possible, with the amount of weed he’d consumed tonight. “What do you mean, guess?”
Again. Inquisitive, curious. It made her want to answer.
“Well…” she sighed, shrugged, went for it anyways. “I’ve never, y’know. Had one. An, um. Orgasm. At least… I don’t like, think I have? I guess for girls it’s harder to tell.”
Eddie reached behind him and pushed so he was no longer slouched half off the couch, but instead was sitting up, and he leaned a little towards her.
Something in her head said she should maybe get up and leave.
She didn’t.
“No,” he said, appraising her face, her eyes, her lips. “You’d know.”
Chrissy squirmed under his gaze, and the heat between her legs grew. “How would you know that? How many girls have you gotten off?”
“I didn’t say truth,” Eddie said, but he smiled at her, a little wolfish. “A couple.”
Chrissy frowned at him. “A couple?” she pressed.
“Four. And they all came. And trust me: I knew.”
Chrissy bit her lip. She couldn’t help it. His eyes tracked her teeth and she knew they were in dangerous territory, but then again, with him? She was always in dangerous territory. They always ended up kind of like this, though usually not so blatant. Eddie’s body pressed against hers on the couch. His fingers dancing over her skin. His eyes pulling to her lips, over and over and over.
He never made a move, though. She didn’t either. It felt… wrong, somehow. They’d survived hell together, dragged each other out. Stayed friends, despite it all. Had spent months dancing around each other but now it had been so long, flirtatious smirks and pointed remarks, that it felt like the line was uncrossable, somehow.
“Oh,” she settled on saying, because the problem was: now she was thinking about Eddie getting some girl off. Using those long dexterous fingers of his, that filthy tongue, maybe his–
No, no. She really shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. She never thought of anyone like that. Even with Jason, sex had just… felt like the next step in their relationship. The right thing to do. He hadn’t touched her much when they did it, and even when he did, it wasn’t like she liked how it felt.
“You should try it,” Eddie was saying, and Chrissy snapped back into her body as she met his eyes.
“Try what?” she asked, knowing she’d missed something but not able to figure out from context clues what it was.
Eddie raised an eyebrow and leaned back on the arm on his side of the couch, his body half turned to face her.
“Touching yourself,” he said, plain as day. “I don’t know if girls call it jacking off, cause, you know. Different motion. Flicking the bean? Y’know. Having a threesome with a couple of no shows.”
The last one was funny–she realized that a beat too late. Her brain was still sluggish, working through the haze of the pot they’d been smoking, but her skin was warm and–
“I wouldn’t…” Chrissy trailed off, and she almost stopped, but something inside her wanted to say it. To tell him. “I wouldn’t even know what to do. I’ve tried, but it’s just… not right.”
Eddie hummed again, thinking, dragging his eyes over her. She felt them pass her chest, pausing to linger just a minute longer than was friendly on her breasts under her oversized sleep t-shirt, and then dropping down to her tiny pajama shorts that she only wore on the nights where Wayne was gone and she knew she’d be crashing next to Eddie, platonically sharing his bed.
“What if…” Eddie paused, licked his lips, like he was considering it. “What if you ask for a dare?” he said, and his voice was lower than she was expecting, and it went right to her head.
“Dare,” she said, the word tumbling out of her lips before she could stop it, and then she caught her breath, holding, wondering if she’d made the right decision.
“I dare you to get yourself off,” Eddie said back, almost as fast, and his eyes flashed in the dim trailer light.
Chrissy snorted. “Okay sure,” she mumbled. Maybe she would go home tomorrow night and slide a finger down her body. Maybe. She knew, though, in some far off part of her mind, that it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t feel good anymore, even though in this moment on Eddie’s old couch it felt like the only thing in the world she wanted.
“Now,” Eddie added, his tone flippant but his face serious.
Chrissy balked.
“What?!” she asked, her mouth suddenly bone dry. She tried to swallow and then forced herself to lick her lips, and that helped the situation just a little. “But–”
It was Eddie’s turn to lick his lips, and he shifted a little on the couch. She tracked his movements with her eyes, glanced down and realized his dick must be hard–his grey sweatpants were tented up, and he wasn’t doing anything to hide it.
“I dare you,” Eddie said again, slow, careful, “to take off your shorts and touch yourself. Right here and now. You said you wouldn’t know what to do,” he paused for a long moment, assessing her, looking deep into her eyes. “How about I tell you?”
Chrissy’s breath hitched in her throat.
She really, really shouldn’t.
“Oh,” she breathed, and suddenly it was the only thing she’d ever wanted. It felt like something in the pit of her stomach was aching, that this was the only way to solve it. She could practically feel her heartbeat between her legs.
“Let’s make it more fair,” Eddie suggested, as if he could see that she was teetering on the edge, that one more thing might push her over. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours? We can do it together.”
Chrissy bit her lip. She shouldn’t. She should get up right now and leave. Or get up and go to bed. She knew Eddie well enough to know that if she said no he would drop it and never bring it up ever again. They could just keep on being friends who had this crackling tension between them, friends who wanted and never acted.
“Okay,” she breathed, and it was Eddie’s turn to swallow hard.
“You sure?” he asked, checking in, always the gentleman.
“Yeah,” Chrissy whispered, and before she could stop herself she hooked her fingers in the waistband of her shorts and tugged them down and off, dropping them onto the floor beside the couch and turning so she mirrored Eddie, leant back on the arm, one leg on the floor and the other hiked up. She didn’t even have the wherewithal to feel shame about how exposed she was, how he could likely see all of her parts like this. All she felt was hot and needy, desperate and aching.
“Fuuuck,” Eddie groaned, as he watched her move. “Jesus H. Christ, Chris,” he added, and then scrambled to match her, losing his pants and boxers in one fell swoop.
His legs were scrawny pale, thighs dotted with random tattoos she wanted to explore, but Chrissy forced herself to look–really look–at his dick. It was hard like she expected, longer than Jason’s and maybe a bit thicker too. It was… hmm. It was pretty, in a way she’d never thought a dick was pretty before. Red at the tip that faded out down his shaft, glistening a little with a drop of liquid at the top. Something in the back of her head decided, very firmly, that it desperately wanted to lick that liquid off.
Chrissy licked her lips again and met Eddie’s eyes to see he was looking at her the exact same way, eyes focused between her legs, assessing.
“You’re so good for me,” Eddie said, a little hypnotized, a little transfixed. “And god, if your pussy isn’t the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen. I knew it would be,” he babbled, “but like, god, I want to frame it and hang it in the Louvre. Think everyone in the world should be blessed to see such a perfect pussy, fuck.”
The compliments slid down her spine like molasses, and they–more than anything else–had her face heating with a blush. Eddie was always open with his compliments, telling her how pretty she looked, how happy she made him, how funny she was, but hearing the way he complimented such an intimate part of her?
“And you’re so wet already, damn. That’s the first thing,” Eddie said, as if remembering he was supposed to be doing something other than gawking. “It won’t feel as good if you’re not wet.”
Chrissy nodded, as if she was his dutiful student, and dropped her hand, ready to get straight to it.
“No no no no-” Eddie interrupted, half reaching for her and then remembering that he was just instructing. “Don’t just start there. You need to work up to it, make your body want it. Start, uh, you can leave your shirt on but start with your tits. Just… squeeze them a bit, maybe touch your nipples. Do you like how that feels?”
Chrissy frowned. “I don’t know,” she admitted, but she was in for a penny and a whole pound here, so she slid her hands up under her shirt and skated up her belly, taking each breast in one hand and giving them an experimental squeeze. That doesn’t do much, even after she does it a few times, so she follows his guidance and moves to her nipples. She pinches one and gasps at the sensation, and across the couch, Eddie grins.
“Good girl,” he said again, and she bit her lip hard, because it felt rude to moan at just his stupid words.
“Keep one hand there and use the other to just… touch yourself. Your stomach, your thighs. Tease yourself a bit with your fingers. Work up to it, okay?”
It was so easy to just follow his orders, Chrissy realized, as she let one of her hands move down to do what he said. So easy to trace circles over her skin, to chase the gooseflesh the action caused, to brush at herself and pinch at her nipples and start to squirm her hips at the heat that pooled between her legs. Somehow he’d taken the heat she’d been feeling and turned it up to a fever pitch.
When she forced her eyes open, Eddie was doing the same, drawing his hands over his thighs, his scarred sides, even up under his chest, likely playing with his own nipples the same way she was playing with hers.
“That’s it, so perfect for me,” Eddie praised, and Chrissy’s heart sang at the sound. “Okay. Real slow now, you’re just going to lightly brush your fingers over your pussy lips. Just barely. You gotta tease yourself for it to feel good, okay?”
It was the word pussy that had her blush darkening. She’d never thought of it like that, called it that. Sex ed in school had barely taught her anything, and god knows her parents had been even less helpful. But the word sounded sinful on his lips, wet and dirty, just like she felt.
She compiled, and gasped at the sensation, at how good it felt but also at how badly she wanted more.
“You can moan if you need to, sweetheart,” Eddie told her as he watched. “I bet your moans are just as perfect as the rest of you.”
Chrissy whimpered at the praise, the thrall of it seeping through her blood. “Feels good,” she admitted, because it did. Her fingers had never felt like this before, and neither had her pussy. She could feel how wet she was, and all she wanted was more.
“Good,” Eddie groaned, and she watched as he slid his palm over the head of his cock, watched it twitch under his gentle touch. “You can use two fingers now, touch your clit. You know where it is?”
Chrissy bit her lip and shook her head.
“That’s okay,” Eddie reassured her. “S’okay. Slide your fingers down, just your middle two. You'll feel it, and you'll know. Might be too much sensation, so do it gently, just till you find it.”
She complied, letting two fingers slip past her lips, and–
Chrissy moaned again as she found the spot Eddie was describing. He was right, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t found it before. Then again, she’d never taken time like this. Usually she just tried to push a finger inside, didn’t understand why it didn’t work, and then gave up.
“Fuck,” Eddie whispered, and Chrissy forced her eyes open to look at him. “God, you just look so perfect, spread out on my couch, touching your pretty pussy. You’re listening to me so well.”
“Don’t stop,” Chrissy whispered, because it was all she could do.
“If it’s too much sensation you can put your fingers on either side, slide them back and forth a bit. Can even put ‘em outside your inner lips and rub at it like that. Try it. Tell me what you like best.”
Chrissy nodded and did as he bid, too caught up in the moment to even think about resisting. She tested the methods–straight on her clit, off to the side, back and forth. “Like it all,” she admitted.
“God, you’re a literal dream,” Eddie said, shaking his head at her. “You can just stay there, if you want. Keep touching your clit. Try circles, try brushing it. Whatever you want. Or you can, ah, if you like it, slide your fingers in. Your clit is actually, like, a whole organ. Sometimes people can stimulate it from the entrance, or they just like something inside. But you don’t have to.”
“I’ll try it,” Chrissy said, because so far Eddie hadn’t led her wrong. Already she was starting to feel something new, a heat, a tightening. She slid her fingers inside, both at once, and focused on sliding over her clit on her way in. Eddie was right about that too, it felt good to feel something push inside, to feel just a bit of a stretch.
“You like it?” he asked, as if he was learning what she wanted, as if he was-
Oh. He probably was learning it, probably committing it all to memory, just in case he ever got the chance.
Chrissy knew, as she slid her fingers over herself, her hips starting to ruck up into them, starting to chase the sensation that was building more and more inside of her, that she’d let him. Whenever it happened: she was all in.
“I like it,” she murmured, speeding her fingers up a little, watching the way his eyes tracked them. “I like you too, Eddie Munson.”
“Fuuuuck,” Eddie groaned, and his hand was pumping up and down his cock more now, his own hips chasing the same feeling she was. “I like you too, Chris. So goddamn much, fuck, gonna make a fool of myself. Y’know how hard it’s been not to come, watching you like that?”
Chrissy nodded in agreement, fingers speeding up even more, sliding through her wetness. She could hear how wet she was, could hear herself panting into the air.
“Eddie, it feels… Feels like…” She couldn’t describe the feelings mounting in her right now, the way it felt like something was going to happen. She almost wanted to stop, to let the feeling fade, but with Eddie watching her, with the weed loosening her bones, it was easy to lean into the sensation harder.
“Keep going, baby. Don’t change anything. You just keep doing everything the exact same, and let it happen. Let your body go with it.”
Chrissy moaned again, sinking further into the couch, hips thrusting up to meet her hand as she pulled her fingers back again to focus directly on her clit, to slide over it again and again and again and–
It hit her like a truck.
“Eddie!” she half screamed, as stars exploded throughout her body, her back arching and pressing up, chasing the sensation. Her whole body tightened and snapped, and all she could do was ride it out, keep her fingers moving, dragging the sensation through herself and out.
Finally she collapsed back to the couch, legs twitching, lips fluttering under her fingers. She pulled her eyes open and as soon as they met Eddie’s he went too, a low moan as he spurted come all over his t-shirt.
She wanted to lick it off his fingers, but he beat her to it.
And then he leaned forward and snagged her wrist, and slid her fingers into his mouth.
“Fuck, Chrissy,” he moaned around them, and she let out a heavy breath as she watched him suck them clean through half lidded eyes.
“Was it good?” he asked, as he pulled off and fell back to his side of the couch, wiping his own hand on his t-shirt and seemingly ignoring the mess he’d made of himself, too eager to hear from her.
She nodded, licked her lips. “Definitely my first,” she said, with a laugh, but her body was still twitching, and her brain felt pleasantly fuzzy, sated in a way she wasn’t used to, the weed still smoothing her out, making everything feel more. “You’re good at that, Eddie. Really good.”
It was Eddie’s turn to blush. “Yeah?” he asked, and sounded unsure for the first time that evening.
Chrissy nodded and let a rush of boldness seize her. It was her turn to lean forward, and she half crawled across the couch until they were face to face.
“Next time…” she said, trailing off, and leaned in to press her lips against his, softly, just once. “Next time you’ll have to show me if it’s just as good with your fingers instead of mine.”