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The bathroom at the Hideout is surprisingly spacious.
Chrissy only learns this when the guitarist from Corroded Coffin takes her in by the hand and locks the door. She doesn’t get a whole lot of time to appreciate it though before he pulls her back to him. His mouth tastes like apples and beer, and he runs his fingers gently through her hair when he kisses her.
“Won’t people mind?” she gasps, when they part again a few minutes later. She’s wound her fingers through the loops of his jeans, sliding her thumbs under his t-shirt to stroke the patch of skin that sits just above the denim. The bathroom is about as big as her kitchen back home, with a large sink and a cool art deco mirror hanging on the wall. It’s also reasonably clean, which is a surprise given the stickiness of the dance floor.
The guy - Eddie was the name he’d given her after his set - shakes his head. He looks a little dazed from making out, like he can’t really believe that this is happening. She’d seen him watching her from stage, even though he’d tried to hide it. She’d known exactly what would happen if she went up to him when he came off stage. She’d gone anyway.
“There’s another bathroom,” he says, in a tone that suggests the patrons of the club can piss outside for all he cares. “It’ll be fine.” And Chrissy can’t find it in herself to care too much before she reaches for him again.
Every kiss is so damn good that it’s no wonder that they ended up here, tugging at each other’s clothes like they want to tear them off. Chrissy can’t stop moving her hands, in his hair, over his chest, over his rear. He’s no better, pulling her hair free from her scrunchie and digging his hands in her curls. He backs her up so he can press her up against the bathroom wall like she’s all he needs, the hard line underneath the denim rubbing against her hip.
Her thighs feel like silk rubbing together under her dress, arousal making her press her legs together desperately for any sort of pressure. Judging by the way he’s grinding against her, she’s not alone.
“Touch me,” Chrissy begs, when they take a breath. She reaches for his hand to place it on her thigh, just brushing against the bare skin below her hem.
“Are you sure?” he asks, and God, she’s never been asked if she’s certain about a stranger fingering her in public before. It makes her like him all the more.
“Please,” she breathes against his mouth and watches as his pupils expand. She pulls him down to kiss her again, hoping that this time he doesn’t stop.
His fingers glide up her thigh and under the bottom hem of her panties, gently rubbing the soft skin at her hip. He’s taking his time, she realizes, exploring every inch of her while they kiss. He follows the material round to rub at her through the soft cotton and her fingers tighten around his shoulders.
The gentle hand that dips inside her underwear makes her moan into his mouth and for a second she worries that people outside might hear her. Those fingers feel as good as she thought they would, gently gliding along the soft skin of her pussy before dipping in to rub at her clit. She hadn’t realized she was so wet, with only kisses and anticipation making her hot and slick. But then he dips his fingers so easily inside her, hesitant at first, then bolder, as each slow rub and crook of his long fingers makes her gasp. She finds herself grinding against the palm of his hand and he slides another finger in alongside the first. She could come so easily like this, with the way that he’s fingering her, slow and deep, taking care to put pressure right where she needs it most.
“Good?” he asks and she barely hears it. She tries to answer but the strangled moan that comes out isn’t anything that resembles words. He grins, something bright and sharp, and his fingers never stop moving in her body like pulling pleasure from her is all he wants out of this.
“I can make you feel even better,” he promises suddenly in a low voice and everything is so heady and hazy that she doesn’t get what he means until he drops to his knees in front of her.
He keeps her dress pressed against her belly with his hand as he presses his open mouth against her through her panties. His mouth is so hot, while his tongue gives her delicate little kitten licks, and it’s good and not enough all at once.
She understands the benefits of his hair then. Winding her fingers through it while he sucks her clit through her soaked underwear is the best way to hang on, to keep him where she wants him.
He doesn’t even pull them down to get to her pussy, just slides them across and continues his work, sucking and licking, head firmly pressed between her thighs until she can barely hold herself up anymore. He’s eating her out, like he enjoys it, like dipping his tongue in and out of her is what he was made for. If Chrissy Cunningham is the judge, he fucking well is.
“Stop,” Chrissy gasps suddenly, digging her fingers into his head. The precipice is approaching too fast and she doesn’t want this to be over too soon. “I want you inside me.”
The look he gives her as he leans back, mouth red and wet, should be illegal.
“Do you have a…?” Eddie asks, and it takes her a second to realize what he’s asking for. Of course. If she wants him to fuck her - which she does, oh God, she does. She’s wanted it since she saw him on stage, all narrow hips and tight denim, black leather against his narrow wrists. His wild dark hair and long-lashed eyes make her think of a boy she’d liked in middle school. Eddie has a crooked smile, and wicked laughter, and he’d made her laugh.
So really, it’s no wonder that they ended up here.
“Oh,” she says and turns her head over his shoulder to where she’d dropped her bag by the door. “Yeah, I do, actually.”
She feels the loss when he slips away from her and her legs aren’t able to do much more than to keep her slumped against the wall. She won’t be able to wear her underwear after, she realises, the cotton already soaked through before they’ve ever fucked.
He takes the two steps required to collect her bag and she doesn’t miss the way his fingers are still slick as he pulls out the packets of condoms. He dangles the shiny foil in front of her, looking bemused.
“Are you always this well prepared?” he asks with a smirk and Chrissy gives a sudden bark of laughter. That’s exactly what Carol had said to them all as she’d handed them out in the cab. Like Carol had been a good girl scout, instead of one that got kicked out for lighting fires.
“My friend,” she explains, as her mouth goes dry as he undoes his jeans one handed. He shoves the denim loosely down around his hips, leaving the dark blue of his boxers as the only thing keeping him from her.
“She’s very sex positive,” she continues, because talking is better than thinking about the glimpse of his bare legs, the long dip of skin leading down to what promises to be something that she’d like to get her mouth on. “And she tried to give condoms to all of us before she remembered that two of our friends are gay and dating each other and therefore not gonna need them. So I have extra.”
Robin and Heather had been pretty unimpressed by the whole thing. They’d done the whole silent staring girlfriends thing until Carol had realized. Which was great until Chrissy had found herself with a whole string of the damn things. She doesn’t even want to know how Carol got hold of so many.
“Thank your friend for me,” he says, eyes half lidded, and Chrissy can’t help herself. She wants to touch, because nothing has ever looked so good as Eddie’s slender hips and the strain of his dick against the dark cotton. He groans as she presses her palm against his dick, sliding her hand against the cotton. He’s thick and hot, even though his underwear, something that promises to feel incredible.
Eddie tears off one packet, slipping the rest into his pocket and tugs down his boxers, just enough to pull out his dick, already a little wet at the tip. She can already feel herself leaking down her thighs, not a feeling she’s used to. She wants and wants and knowing that he badly wants her too makes her heart judder just a little bit.
He’s quick sliding the condom on, even quicker hooking his fingers under her dress to pull down her underwear. It pools around her ankles, pink and lacy, until Eddie hitches her dress up her thighs so he can get a hand under her right leg, supporting her and revealing her all at once. She feels open and exposed and she doesn’t feel as vulnerable as she thought she would like this. Her panties are wrapped around one ankle, dress stuck around her hips, and the angle as he slides between her thighs, hot and firm, makes her reach out to guide him inside her.
Eddie’s jaw goes slack and she’s so grateful that she kept her eyes open. She’ll think of that later, and on other nights, when she needs to pull up this memory to get off. Because she knows she’s going to think of this in future: his head between her thighs, dark eyes staring up at her, the quiet hitch of his breath as she wrapped her leg around his hip.
Sex is usually pretty good. But something about this is already making her feel how fast the blood is pounding round her body, how her breath catches in her throat. Her mouth is dry and it takes all of her will not to grind down on his dick. Because she desperately wants to, wants to push him down to the floor and ride him until he has nothing left.
He’s giving her a moment, hand still hooked under her knee, and the look on his face makes her feel like he’s looking at something incredible. Like something worth of worship.
“Hi,” Chrissy says softly and then feels like an idiot, because they’re pressed together, skin to skin, and she can feel how deep he goes inside of her. But he laughs, just a few soft exhales of breath and presses his mouth briefly against her’s.
“Hi,” he says, his eyes bright. Something inside of Chrissy flares up and then collapses in on itself, like a star imploding. She’s had sex before. But somehow it never felt quite as intimate as this. And if sex with Eddie in a public bathroom feels like this…
She tries not to think about it. She has no expectations, no judgments of what is going to happen here. They’ll part ways after, with sore thighs and her soaked panties stuffed into her handbag. Her absence will be noted by her friends, there’s no way that it won't be. Carol has a terrible sense for when people have had club sex. And when it’s as toe-curlingly good as this, Chrissy won’t be able to keep it off her face.
Eddie bends his head to kiss along her collarbone, up her neck, over her jawline. Each one is as soft as air and she closes her eyes. She half wishes her stupid dress came undone because she would love to have his mouth on her breast, stroking his tongue over her nipples. He looks like he’d be good at that, sucking at each one, tracing over her salty bare skin. He’s really good with his tongue. She’s got first hand knowledge.
“You good?” Eddie whispers, and she opens her eyes. There’s a flush to his face, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. He’s having trouble waiting too but he won’t move without her say-so.
“Yeah,” she says and gives into the urge to grind down against his dick just to be sure. She feels the pleasure ripple along her entire body, curling her toes and taking the breath from her.
“I’m good,” she says, a little smugly, because he’d bitten down on his bottom lip in surprise. He pushes back a strand of her hair from her eyes, like he wants her to see him for this.
“You want me to fuck you?” he asks in that low husky voice and either his tone or his words sends a shudder up Chrissy’s spine.
“I need you to fuck me,” Chrissy says breathlessly, because that’s all this is now. They passed by want when they kissed backstage and went way past desire when he dropped to his knees on the bathroom floor in front of her. There’s nothing in her head, in her heart, nothing left thrumming through her entire body all the way down to where they connect that isn’t just nownownow….
They fuck against the wall so hard that Chrissy’s head occasionally knocks against the panelled wood and it’s still not enough. She clings onto him, arms around his neck, his shoulders, digging into his hair like she can pull him in deeper. It’s good and fast, and he feels so hot inside of her and when he tugs her up off the ground, supporting her with both arms, the change of movement nearly makes her sob. Everything had been so gentle earlier from the care he’d taken to ensure that she was wet to the gossamer butterfly kisses against her skin. Now it feels raw, ravenous, like he’s so close to wanting to crawl inside her. She half wishes she could, not sated fully by having his tongue and then his fingers. Even this doesn’t feel deep enough and she digs her fingernails into his back as though she can force him to.
The steady thrusts of his dick follow the path laid out earlier by his fingers, like he’d already learned and mapped out what was going to make her shudder and scream. It’s rough and hard, and she’s going to have to touch herself because she can’t quite come like this. She thinks at another time, another angle, with his lower belly to grind against her, she might just. There’s a lot of ways that she could come with Eddie.
Eddie leans forward to kiss her and it’s sloppier than earlier, little more than tongues and teeth and sharing breath. She thinks that she can hear someone pounding on the bathroom door but it means nothing against the sounds of Eddie’s skin against her own as he drives into her.
She can feel herself teetering closer and closer to the edge and judging by the frantic short gasps into her hair, Eddie isn’t far behind. She turns her face away from his, just for a moment. She’s not sure she’s ready for this to be over.
“Can you touch yourself?” Eddie asks, the word barely more than a pant. His eyes are huge, the iris lost in his blown pupils. She nods, too captivated by the endless dark of his eyes and releases one hand from his neck to slide down in between them. She trusts that he’ll keep a hold of her as she dips a finger where she needs it, slick and soft.
“Eddie,” she whispers, the word sounding more like a prayer under the fluorescent lights. She’s moving her fingers too quickly against her clit, in time with his jagged thrusts and everything is becoming too tight, too intense. She’s a sloppy, needy mess and she almost wishes she was on some kind of birth control so he can come in her. The thought is a little shocking, when she hadn’t known she was capable of it. But God, it sounds so appealing, him coming over her thighs, feeling it leak out of her. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…”
He kisses her and she can feel his fingers digging into the bare flesh of her leg.
“Chris,” he gasps, and he’s so pretty, still so pretty, even under these stupid bathroom lights. She’d thought it when she’d seen him on stage, all softly back-lit and doe-eyed, fingers fluttering along his guitar like magic. He’s delicate with big eyes and a soft mouth, all dimples and curls and cheekbones. But this may be her favorite, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wide and hungry.
“Chris, I’m gonna…” Chrissy sucks on his bottom lip a little, barely able to find the words herself.
“Me too,” she breathes, and her words come out jagged. She can feel her orgasm rising, just teetering on the edge, waiting to plummet all the way down. It’s going to be good but she wants to see Eddie come first. “Together, okay? Come with me.”
Eddie presses her against the wall, pins her there with both arms and groans his release into her hair. She rides out the juddering thrusts of his hips, still working her fingers, and her hot breath against her neck, the slow drag of his dick as he finishes inside her is enough. It’s as good as promised, rippling down her spine like a wave, drawing her body tight like a bow.
When it’s over she slips her hand free from between them to wrap it around his neck. She wants to kiss him one more time just in case it’s the last. But he meets her mouth just as eagerly, sweet and firm, sliding his tongue past her lips. It’s a little odd to kiss so gently with their fluids cooling on their skin, the indent of his jean zipper wedged against her thighs.
She feels the loss as he slides out of her, and her legs wobble a fraction as he helps her down to put her feet on the floor. He strips off the condom, ties it off, and chucks it neatly in the nearby bin. Chrissy wipes herself down as best she can and lobs her underwear in her handbag. And then it’s the moment that she’s dreaded, the inevitable end. Eddie tucks himself back into his underwear, a soft flush climbing his neck.
“So…coffee?” he asks, and the casual tone makes her laugh. They just fucked against a bathroom wall and he’s asking her out. Even better, he’s nervous like he thinks she might say no. Like this isn’t exactly what she was hoping for.
“Sure,” she says shyly and tugs up her dress straps. She smooths down her hair, even though anyone who spots them leaving will know what they’ve been doing - no one locks themselves in a club bathroom for half an hour to do anything else “I’m free now?”
Eddie finishes zipping his pants and then unlocks the door. He gestures dramatically towards the open door and she steps back out into the brilliant lights and thumping beat. For a while, she’d forgotten that this all existed. The bathroom had blocked it all out, Eddie’s hands in her hair, his mouth on her’s, the pleasure of him inside her, had all been enough to make her forget that the outside world was even there.
“I know a good diner,” Eddie says nervously, as though he expects her to change her mind. “They do great pancakes, if you’re hungry.” Chrissy looks at him nervously shifting his weight from side to side. Stuff like this isn’t meant to happen. Guys aren’t meant to give you the best sex you’ve ever had in a club bathroom and then want to buy you breakfast. And she can see it, how sitting across from each other over chocolate chip pancakes will turn into kisses at her door to round two on her living room floor. She thinks she can see past that too and she’s probably not meant to. Like her whole life can so easily fall into place from this moment.
“I am, a little,” she confesses. “And I like pancakes.” Eddie grins, clearly relieved. He digs around in his pocket and retrieves the familiar shiny packets.
“These are your’s,” he says, as Chrissy stares at them, like he thinks that she’s forgotten. Chrissy smiles and pushes his hand down, stepping into his space to kiss him. He curls his free hand around her waist, like he’d been waiting for the invitation.
“Keep them,” Chrissy says, when they part. “You may need them later.”
She has a second to enjoy his stunned expression before she grabs his hand and pulls them out into the clear night.