Against all odds || Stranger Things 4 | Hellcheer

Chapter 25

Author's note: the temperature is heating up in this chapter, although nothing explicit. Feel free to skip ahead if you feel uncomfortable, you won't miss major plot elements ;)

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Eddie's brain goes blank for a whole second when Chrissy tugs at his t-shirt. His arms move on autopilot until he removes it. Then it all comes back like a wave crashing on the shore. The fragile confidence in her eyes makes her look gorgeous as she props herself on her knees.

He wants her, so bad! He's never been so scared to want someone like that - scared to make the first move, scared to mess everything up. How is he supposed to act on this burning desire? Too much and he's a selfish prick, not enough and she might think he's not really into her...Hopefully, Chrissy knows by now that he is definitely into her!

She leans over, he parts his lips in anticipation, pulse racing. But her head is aiming lower and she kisses his neck, just over the end of his collar bone. His breath gets caught in his throat as his body tenses. This gentle peck fires him up more than a french kiss would have.

She slightly moves her head to press her mouth a few inches higher, he exhales and clenches his fists. She moves again, slightly to the left and when she kisses him he can feel she licked her lips in between. He craves to touch her and at the same time enjoys being the receiver of these attentions without meddling in it.

As she keeps putting butterfly kisses on his neck, he realizes she's tracing the bruises that spread around his throat with her lips. Something intense burst inside his chest. All warm and fuzzy. Maybe this is what love - the capital L, she's-my-soulmate one - really feels like. How would he know?

Whatever it is, it melts in with his arousal in the most elating way. Makes his skin feel too tight, his heart beat too fast and his crotch firing.

*

Chrissy keeps a slow pace, licking her lips every now and then to make the kisses smother, silently enjoying the way Eddie's skin twitches under her care. It's unlike anything she's ever done, both daunting and exhilarating. More intimate than actual sex - than the sex she had anyway.

She lifts herself up on her knees to kiss the bruise on his cheekbone, then the larger one on his brow before going for his mouth. He's been waiting for her, catching her lips with his, pushing his tongue in. A shiver runs down her spine and rumbles in her lower belly. She puts her hand on his shoulder and deepens the kiss. Her skin feels tight in anticipation of his hands touching her. Will he go for her neck or the small of her back? The tingles in her loins grow in intensity for how bad she craves his touch.

But nothing happens. Even when Eddie groans in her mouth, he keeps his hand off of her and Chrissy starts to panic. Is he in so much pain that her kisses are only making it worse? Or maybe he doesn't want her – doesn't want a slut who throws herself at every boy who's remotely nice to her.

She pulls back. She can't get herself to meet his eyes so she keeps her head down and notices both of Eddie's fists clenched on his trousers. Heat spikes in every cell of her body when she realizes what they're doing: tugging the tight fabric of his jeans away from his crotch.

Eddie stays something she can't understand, her brain too busy deciding what to do with the tidal wave of desire that's taking over her. Shame, guilt, arousal and love swirls in a whirlpool that might swallow her whole. Because they only first kissed yesterday, but she wants him so badly.

It clicks when Eddie moves to sit up. She barely recognizes her voice as she says, "I'm not done," but Lord have mercy, the fluster on his face gets even darker and she adores how it looks on him. Adores the fact that she's responsible for it.

*

The look on Eddie's face makes Chrissy bold enough to climb down the couch and crouch between his legs. She's scared, uneasy, but so turned on at the same time. And if this is making Eddie feel better, there's no stopping her. She'd be lying to herself if she said this wasn't making her feel better too.

She lifts herself up, taking a hold on the couch and leans to reach the bruise on his sternum, putting an unsure hand on his chest as she kisses it. With her palm flat on his skin, she can feel how fast his heart beats. She keeps it there as she kisses her way toward his sides. Her belly brushes against the bulge on Eddie's jeans – they both flinch, she pulls away in a shaky breath, only to push herself down again. And if that contact wasn't already too much, Eddie's hands finally come resting on her, finding their way to her shoulder blades, burning through the coton of her top.

She has all the trouble in the world focussing on tracing the edge of the large bruise with her lips now that her loins are pulsing with heat and need, shame never far away. Her hand slides from his chest to his left side, she puts her other hand on his waist as she presses herself harder against his body, still kissing his skin, her breast now squeezed on the belt of his jeans. He swears under his breath.

*

Eddie lets his head fall back on the couch, trying hard not to thrust his hips. The weight of Chrissy's body between his leg is the sweetest torture. Watching her going down there was already something, but now that she's pressed against his crotch, his self control is wearing out... and it sucks!

First because he still hasn't figured out where stands the limit between what he wants to do and what Chrissy is ready for, but mostly because he never wants her to stop roaming his skin like she does. How she manages to convey such tenderness through her lips is a mystery to him. He's starving for it.

But the whole experience is too much. The way her fingers sometimes twitch around his waist, the tickle of her hair on his belly, her breath on his skin, her mouth - her fucking mouth and the wet sounds of her kissing! - and now her chest rubbing over his crotch. He wants more. He wants her.

One of her hands slides down to his belt, clutched on it. He tries to ease the tension in every fiber of his body by sliping one of his own hands under the collar of her top to reach as much skin as he can. Warm, quivering. He can't help it, he rocks his hips and - Jesus! - she presses harder.

When she's done circling his bruise with kisses, she sits back on her heels, her hands sliding down to his upper thighs. She looks up to him - absolutely gorgeous! Lips red and glistening, that spark of arousal in her eyes. He's torn between pulling her into a kiss and grinding harder until he comes. She decides otherwise...