Chapter Text
Eddie hates summer.
The heat. The humidity. The bugs.
He squints at the fading numbers on his watch and sighs. Best to try and scramble up whatever money he can make at the pool before his only client is Mrs. Driscoll and her false teeth.
The AC in his van is busted, of course, and even with the small cross breeze from his open windows, Eddie is sweating like a sinner in church. Maybe he should’ve swallowed his pride and wore a pair of shorts, but that would clash with his whole metal head 24/7 vibe.
The Hawkins pool is overrun with children and middle aged moms. Eddie grimaces and is about to turn around when someone calls his name.
“Yo, Munson!”
The visage of Billy Hargrove, complete with mullet, sunglasses, and that stupid lifeguard whistle around his neck. At least he had the decency to wear a shirt. No matter that it was cut high enough that Eddie almost wants to ask if Billy was rummaging through his kid sister’s closet.
“Hargrove.”
Billy clicks his tongue and gestures to where the other lifeguard, Heather he thinks, sits.
“Got something to help us cool down?” His glasses slide down the bridge of his nose and Eddie gestures unassumingly at the overgrown shrubs.
“Depends. How much you got on you?”
Rolling his eyes, Billy reaches into the pocket of his swim trunks. Horrible place to keep cash, Eddie thinks.
“What can I get for fifty?”
A shrug, “Two joints pre-rolled or a tab of acid.”
He watches as Billy’s eyes darken. “The tab.” He slams the bills into Eddie’s hand and follows him to the van.
“Try to take them when you’re not responsible for saving lives.”
Billy snorts and waves him off. “Might find Harrington and some others if you still got supply.”
Eddie salutes the blond and loiters near the fence. The sun burns the back of his neck, but he manages to rack up a decent amount in the hour that he’s had to bare witness to Steve Harrington’s horrible flirting skills and that Buckley girl mocking him afterward.
Boneheads Chance and Andy mumble something about weed for their party. Eddie hicks up the price just because and makes enough to hopefully fix that stupid AC vent.
He almost trips when he sees Chrissy Cunningham resting against his van. Wearing only a skimpy swimsuit top (white with blue polka dots) and her shorts are cut off that Eddie can barely call them shorts. More like a second skin the way they cling to her thighs; a rosy pink thanks to the sun.
"Need something?" He coughs and Chrissy blinks at him the hint of a smile playing on her lips.
Chrissy leans back and stretches, the top of her shorts rolling down so he can just make out what might be another blue polka dot. "Weed for the cook out later."
Eddie clicks his tongue prepared to haggle the price, but when he opens his mouth its Chrissy's songbird voice again.
"I, um, don't have money."
Eddie laughs and tilts his head. "Can't give things away for free, sweetheart."
Her lips pout as if she's upset, but her eyes gleam in a way that has his throat run dry. A curse of the summer sun no doubt.
Chrissy sighs and stretches again. This time one strap fall off her shoulder. Eddie loses count of her freckles when she says, "Maybe we can trade?"
"What do you have that I'd trade my stock?" His heart pounds in his ears because Chrissy smiles like some feral cat.
“Me."
He blinks and tilts his head. Did some pool water somehow get lodged in his ear? “Sorry, you want to trade…”
Chrissy crosses her arms over her chest and that’s not fair. “Me for an ounce or whatever you have left.”
Eddie chokes, “Selling yourself a little short there, Cheer Queen.”
She pouts and stamps her foot, “Shelly said that she traded for, like, a package or whatever.”
His mind whirls because yeah, he let Slutty Shelly give him a handjob or blowjob depending on what she wanted and if he was up that week in sales it didn’t really matter. Eddie’s moral compass didn’t exactly always point north. Sue him.
But Shelly isn’t Chrissy.
His middle school crush that never really went away and so what that they’ve never really spoken? So what that she lives on the Proper side of town?
Chrissy is a fantasy that Eddie can latch onto in the middle of the night and it means absolutely nothing.
Her boyfriend wants him dead? Whatever, so does everyone else in this godforsaken town. Eddie’s allowed to look at the girl. Especially when her closet seems to be full of only skirts.
He shakes his head, “I have maybe a joint that you can smoke, but you want to what- give me a handjob for it? You do know who I am right?”
Chrissy’s checks flush a bit and it brings out more of her freckles.
“Eddie Munson are you saying you don’t want me to give you a handjob? Because I have it on good authority that you do.”
She bounces off his van and saunters over to him. Eddie’s throat closes when he feels the heat of her palm on his thigh.
“Chrissy.”
She bats those true blue eyes at him and Eddie swears he can smell her lipgloss.
“Yes?” Her nails run up higher and yeah, he’s doomed.
Licking his lips he thumbs to the van, “In there fine?”
Chrissy’s smile widens and she goes to open the back doors. He can’t remember the last time he’s cleaned it, but there is a mattress with some pillows and hey! his Dio shirt.
Eddie chuckles to himself and momentary forgets that Chrissy Cunningham is on her knees.
In his van.
Because she just propositioned him.
“So you want me to just whip it out or-“, Eddie’s fingers rest on his jean zipper.
Chrissy sits on the mattress and damn he really should put sheets or something on that.
Her shorts are so tight that Eddie’s positive he can see the outline of her cunt when she parts her legs to rest on her elbows.
“Or, um,” Chrissy bites her lips and peeks through her lashes.
Eddie drops his hand from his jeans. “Look you really don’t need to-“
“I want to!” Chrissy just about shouts and Eddie blinks because oh fuck? Chrissy Cunningham wanted to jerk him off in his gross van for some weed?
Eddie lifts his arms and mentally sings hallelujah. “Sure, Cunningham. You want me to come on your face too or what?”
Chrissy’s eyes brighten and she nods, “Yeah. Maybe next time you can come in my mouth.”
Eddie’s mind blanks. Next time? In her fucking mouth?!
Yup, he’s absolutely certain that he’s died and this is both heaven and hell.
Chrissy’s bare foot nudges his knee. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He repeats and unzips his jeans because Eddie is a lot of things but he’s not utterly stupid.
To be honest, ever since he bore witness to Chrissy’s freckled skin he’s been half hard. Now, however? He’s bricked to high heaven and golly gee isn’t it sweet that Miss Chrissy Cunningham, Cheer Captain and no doubt Homecoming Queen is there to help him with that. Her community service for the day.
“Slow or fast?” Chrissy asks as she palms him through his boxers. The ones that remind him to do laundry because he’s poor and maybe he wore these to bed last night.
Swallowing hard Eddie stumbles out, “fast?”
Honestly he’ll probably come the second Chrissy’s manicured hand touches him, but it will seem like it’s her idea now.
Chrissy smiles and removes her hand to lick up her palm. Eddie’s fist tightens and he watches as spit dribbles out of her mouth to coat her fingers.
Yup, he’ll be done faster than you can say Miss Teen Indiana.
Chrissy slides his boxers down with her dry hand and looks up at him. Eddie doesn’t know if he’s ever seen a prettier sight.
“Tell me if the pressure’s off. I’m used to someone not as, hm, thick,” she laughs and wraps her hand around him. Eddie grunts and leans back against an amp.
“Flattery works on me.” Especially telling me that I’m bigger than your loser boyfriend.
Chrissy slowly moves her hand up and brushes her thumb across his redden tip. Her lips purse, “Fast you said?”
Her tone almost indicated disappointment and Eddie rambles, “Fast, slow, hard, gentle. Do whatever you want, baby.”
She beams and starts to pump up and down. The straps of her bathing suit slipping down her shoulders as she does. God maybe he should just ask her to take it off. He’ll come on her tits and give her the special k he keeps in the glove comment as a treat.
“You’re good at that.” Eddie whines as Chrissy squeezes just enough for it to hurt.
Her eyes gleam up at him. “Thank you.”
A laugh rasps out of him as she cups his balls and places her face close enough that he can feel her hot breath. His hips jerk upward as the tightening in his stomach almost becomes too unbearable.
“Chrissy.”
She slows her pace and leans back on her heels. “Yes?”
Eddie covers half his face with his hand and grunts, “Gunna come.”
Through his fingers he can see the pink tip of tongue peeking through her lips.
Another stroke and he, not so eloquently, moans before he latches onto Chrissy’s forearm. A tiny gasp from the strawberry blonde as his hips buck and his semen covers the right side of Chrissy’s face. She closes her eyes and pouts.
The urge to apologize dies on Eddie’s tongue as he watches Chrissy wipe her face clean. Fingers now covered in his cum, she offers it to him.
“Only fair you clean up right?” That coy smile on her lips once more.
Still ridding from his high, Eddie nods and drops to his knees. Dick becoming semi-hard as he puts two of Chrissy’s fingers in his mouth.
The taste of his own salty musk and what must be her filling his tongue. Eddie licks and sucks around each knuckle, trying desperately not to notice how Chrissy’s eyes flutter and how her chest heaves with her tiny pants.
Releasing her fingers with a pop, Eddie slumps backwards and shoves his dick back into his pants.
He points to where his metal lunchbox rests. “In there you’ll find the joints. You can keep what’s left.”
Chrissy crawls over and he must be seeing things because the middle of her shorts look dangerously damp. Should he offer to help?
She takes the plastic baggy and waves it around. “Thanks for trading.”
An almost shy smile and as she makes to leave, “See you around.”
Eddie lifts his hand and finally remembers how to breathe once the scent of Chrissy’s vanilla lotion dissipates in the summer heat.
He finds her against his van before the homecoming game. An entire six weeks after that Eddie had titled his very own midsummer’s dream. Not that he’s been counting or whatever.
Chrissy’s wearing her cheer uniform and sporting a high ponytail. Her lips are pursed as if she’s contemplating one of Mrs. O’Donnell’s horrible philosophy prompts.
Not that Eddie looks at her during that class. No, his eyes don’t look onto her strawberry locks and his hands don’t clench any time he finds her nails taping against the wooden desk.
Nails that Eddie can still feel on his skin.
Chrissy’s eyes widen once she finally notices him. “Oh! You’re here.”
Eddie shrugs, “My van and all.”
She dips her chin down and shuffles her feet.
“Need something, Cunningham?” He keeps his voice soft as if afraid to startle a deer.
Chrissy hums and kicks a rock. “Something to help me before the game?”
The blue on her eyelids shimmers against the sun. Chrissy bites her bottom lip, “I’m a little nervous.”
Bet you are.
Eddie clicks his tongue. “Might have a joint. You got fifteen dollars on you?”
Chrissy shakes her head. “I can trade?”
He watches as her pupils dilate and yeah okay.
Some kids mingle and Eddie drops his voice to just a whisper, “Handjob won’t do it this time, sweetheart.”
He can feel her fingers tangle with the chains that rest on his jeans.
“Oh no, really? What else can I bargain with?” Chrissy bites her bottom lip and damn it. She’s playing him like a fucking fiddle.
“Think you said something about your mouth last time.”
Chrissy’s hands stop playing with his chains as she leans on his van. “I’m wearing Maybelline’s Strawberry Swirl. It’ll smudge.”
Her nose crinkles and Eddie thinks this is also part of her game.
Taking a step backwards he sighs, “Well I can’t have you smudge your lipgloss before the big game and all. Guess there’s always next time or you could ask one of your cheer friends for the money.”
Eddie pauses and adds, “or to trade for you?”
Chrissy inhales and he thinks he sees her pinch the back of her thigh. A darkness overcoming her face as she spits, “No.”
Eddie’s brows raise, “No?”
Back is the golden smile and Chrissy opens the backdoor of his van. “No, I think Heather or Kelly will let me borrow their lipgloss.”
She crawls in and Eddie follows her inside. The slam of the door muffles what might’ve been Chrissy saying “I don’t like sharing.”
Eddie opens his mouth to ask what she means but Chrissy pulls him to the mattress. At least it has some sheets on it now. And they’re somewhat clean!
She spreads his legs apart and drags her nails where there are rips in his jeans.
“Wanna come down my throat? Is that the price for today?” Chrissy purrs.
Eddie nods a strained, “Yeah, sure. Market price for a joint is fifteen dollars or a load of my cum down your pretty little throat.”
Her face heats at the words and Eddie wonders if it’s too much. They don’t exactly have a Player’s Handbook for rules.
“I need to swallow then, right?” Her manicured hand moves to his zipper. Eddie’s jaw drops and Chrissy asks again.
“You want me to swallow everything? Not a drop left?”
She frees his erection licking her lips as she does. Eddie hisses when the heat of her palm touches the sensitive skin.
“Yeah be a good girl and swallow it all for me.”
Chrissy nods and nestles into place between his legs. A sight he’s going to memorize and keep hidden for the rest of his life.
Placing a kiss to his tip, Chrissy blinks up at him. “I won’t gag. I’ve had lots of practice, swear.”
Eddie’s head buzzes with her meaning but before he can think of a response she has him in her mouth. Hot and wet and all ready for him.
The slickness of her tongue coats the length of his dick as she moves her lips down lower and lower. Chrissy’s eyes keep contact with his as she hums. The vibrations almost sending him into the stratosphere.
Eddie grunts and throws his head back. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Like a middle schooler that just got his first tongue-kiss, Eddie Munson is about to combust and ruin Chrissy’s lipgloss. The same lipgloss that’s currently being smeared all over his dick leaning a barely there, pink hue. Or maybe that’s all the blood rushing from his brain because he can no longer form words.
Chrissy’s tongue swirls around his tip and he hisses through his teeth. She smiles and then opens wide enough for him to count her molars.
Taking him again, Chrissy hollows her cheeks and sucks as she bobs her head up and down. His hips jerk in time with her and Eddie swears that she’s humming a song off Sacred Heart but that would be insane. Chrissy Cunningham would never listen to Dio.
Nevertheless, the vibrations from Chrissy’s lips have Eddie thrusting deep enough that the tip of his cock is pressing against the back of her throat. He can’t stop his hand from pressing her head further down until he feels her throat constrict tighter.
Some salvia spills out of her lips and her eyes water, but she doesn’t gag. Instead, Chrissy relaxes her jaw to take him unbearably deeper and when he feels the sting of her nails on his thighs Eddie just barely manages a warning.
“Commin’ sweetheart.”
It’s those blue eyes, the purest sapphires that send him over the edge. With one final thrust, Eddie groans and spills into her too warm mouth.
Chrissy makes good on her promise and swallows everything she can. A line of saliva mixed with cum lingers when she removes her lips and rubs at her jaw.
“Was I good?”
Eddie nods and sits up to wipe the corner of her mouth with his thumb sucking on whatever’s left.
“I’d crush all my E pills for you to snort since you already took me to heaven.”
It’s actually disgusting how limbless he feels. Embarrassing how he wants to caress Chrissy’s face and ask if she wants to cuddle.
Her nose wrinkles and it looks like she’s trying to hid a smile. “If you say so.”
She reaches for his lunchbox and helps herself to another joint.
“Catch you at the game!” Chrissy smiles as if she doesn’t already know he’s never once been to an organized sports event.
Eddie finds himself watching Chrissy’s green cheer skirt flip to and fro during halftime. If her voice is a bit horse, he thinks no one else is able to tell over the noise.
Around two weeks when she finds him again.
Sixteen days. Eddie’s mind supplies because he’s a fucking freak that now keep a calendar with tiny blue checkmarks for when they meet up.
Chrissy isn’t smiling this time. She’s not pouting in that teasing way either, in fact she looks a bit frustrated (sexually perhaps? Nope, he’s not thinking too hard on that).
“Your Majesty.” Eddie bows like the asshole he is and the corners of her lips twitch.
Crossing her arms around her sweater (the cheater), Chrissy lifts a brow. “I don’t have that much time and I need more than the last one.”
Eddie clicks his tongue and gestures to his van. Her favorite place it seems for these meetings (the only place because if Eddie were dare to suggest someplace else it might spoil the game).
“As the lady wishes. What’s caught your fancy today?”
She finds her seat in the middle of the mattress (two new throw pillows now! He’s been splurging) and her fingers curl together.
That insanely short cheer skirt hikes up and just like the first time they did this, he can just about make out the outline of her cunt.
Jesus Christ is she wet already?
Eddie licks his lips unconsciously and Chrissy squeaks out, “Coke! Heather and the girls want something a bit more and well, I said I knew a guy.”
Her blue eyes sparkle and Eddie laughs running a hand through his hair.
“I’m your guy then?”
She wiggles her hips and nods. “Yeah.”
He takes a moment to decide what to ask of her. A gram of coke can go for anywhere between $100 and $200 depending on who was asking.
“You don’t have the cash do you.” Eddie says because at this point he knows she wants to trade.
A flirty flip of her hair. “I have lots of things that you might like.”
He digs his nails into his palm and tries not to have his voice shake. “I want to see you play with your pussy.”
Chrissy’s eyes darken and she looks around the van. Still a mess, but at least most of his junk is in one pile. A few cans of mountain dew, scattered notebooks, and again? That Dio shirt. He really needs to do laundry more.
Her hands grab for it and she chews on her bottom lip. “You like this band?”
It’s the one he got from their tour last winter. The shirt was pretty sick had a devil with a chain whip and everything.
Eddie nods, “Dio’s great. They just had another concert in Indianapolis but I, uh, couldn’t make it.”
He points to the shirt Chrissy now has close to her chest. Will it smell like her vanilla lotion?
“That’s from their last tour. Back in January.” Eddie’s not sure why he’s telling her this. She doesn’t care.
“Can I use it?” Chrissy’s asks breathlessly.
Eddie frowns, “Use it? For what?”
She bunches it up to place next to her before she wiggles out of het cheer skirt leaving her bottom half covered by these way too cute panties.
He smirks, “Are those the Care Bears?”
Pink floods her cheeks and Chrissy takes hold of his shirt. “So I can use it then?”
Eddie doesn’t respond when she moves to rest on her stomach, ass on full display for him. Another image burned into his brain (she has a mole on the back of her left thigh the he itches to bite).
“Gunna start now. Kay?” Chrissy’s muffled voice breaks his fantasies (a real life fantasy is happening!)
A grunt, “Uh.”
Chrissy places his Dio shirt between her hands and then moves it to the apex of her legs. He watches, mouth dry as her panties begin to darken as her moves her hips. A moans escapes her lips and Eddie’s mind finally decides to get the memo.
Chrissy Cunningham was humping his shirt. Grinding her hips against the fabric and squeezing her thighs together as she does.
“S’good?” She breathes and Eddie can’t see her face.
His eyes are too lost in how that one wet spot keeps getting bigger and bigger the faster her hips and hands move.
“Lose the panties.” He hears himself say and Chrissy whines.
A momentary pause as she shimmies them down to her knees. Slickness coating her inner thighs that Eddie’s tongue waters at. Not yet. He won’t get to taste her this round.
“Keep playing with yourself, baby. Use your fingers if you need.”
Chrissy huffs out, “One or two?” Spreading those drenches lips apart.
Eddie falls to his knees in front of what will be his last meal on death row.
“Can you manage two?” Can I add two more?
A whine as she inserts her middle and ring finger. They slide past her knuckle and he feels just how painfully tight his jeans are.
“Shit. You’re so fucking wet they went right in, huh? Gotta move ‘em now. Lemme hear how wet you are.”
Chrissy rocks back and forth against her palm no doubt pressing on her clit. God if only he could touch her.
“Faster now. I’m not hearing that much.”
Lie. The only sounds in the van are of their combined panting breathes and the squelching that came out as Chrissy’s fingers moved in and out of her dripping cunt.
“That’s a good girl. Can see you making a mess all over my shirt.”
His hands move to rest on the mattress, his thumb moving feather light across her ankle.
“But that’s what you wanted isn’t it? Want to stain my shirt with that sweet pussy juice so that every time I wear it I think of you?”
Chrissy moans lewdly and moves her fingers out of the way so he can see the pulsing of her empty cunt as she comes.
“You liked me watching that much, huh? But I bet you still could go again.”
She shakes her head against the mattress. “Not today.”
Her legs are still shaking as she works to catch her breath, his shirt drenched in the most delicious way.
Eddie helps her sit up and her still wet cunt is directly on his shirt. Maybe he’ll ask her to wipe dry with it too. (Just to be thorough)
“Give me your hand.” He gives her pointed look and Chrissy’s eyes widen.
Her cheeks are still flushed and she cries out when he immediately puts the two fingers in his mouth. An obscene moan escapes his lips as he tastes her.
Not directly from the source, but still honeyed-sweet. Enough to make him sick for the rest of the week with greed and desire.
“Delicious.” He mummers and presses a kiss to her finger tips. Chrissy smiles softy and parts her lips to say-
A bang on the van’s window and they both jump. Chrissy’s eyes wide as she scrambles to gather her cheer skirt.
“Eddie man! Don’t we have Hellfire?”
The familiar voice of little Henderson rings out and damn it! Doesn’t he know If The Van's A-Rockin' Don't Come A-Knockin’?
“Yeah, give me second to get my shit.” He gives Chrissy a pleading look and whispers.
“Wait a few minutes then come out. The coke is the white powder behind the joints.”
She nods and regrettably Eddie leaves the van.
When he comes back after what was, no doubt, a great campaign, his Dio shirt is folded and resting on top like a bow are Chrissy Cunningham’s still half wet panties.