keeptheselights | (no subject)

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hopper

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It takes her so long to get ready that she might as well be a teenager again. She dresses carefully, layering the lingerie that she'd cricled back to buy with a black velvet dress that's fitted across her chest and flared slightly around her thighs. She puts on heels and agonises, for a long moment, about which lipstick to choose before she goes for red.

She wants to be as far away from how worn down she's felt for a long time as she can. She wants to feel like she did when she was young, and full of promise.

Hopper wanted to pick her up but, because Will hasn't headed out yet, she'd said she'd meet him at the restaurant. She arrives early, standing outside with her arms folded against the cold, a cigarette between two fingers.

She's so nervous she actually laughs at herself.
Jesus.

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He loves that she's touching herself like that, that he gets to see, and he curls his fingers inside of her. Before anything else, he wants to make her come, he wants to hear the sounds she'll make, he wants to do everything for her.

It had been like this in the early days of his relationship with Diane, but somehow still not the same. Hopper can't imagine this ever fading. Not with Joyce.

It doesn't take long -- not with the way that Jim's touching her, not with his fingers inside her, his mouth on her. She makes a sound, almost a whimper, her thighs tightening and her head falling back as she starts to come.

"Oh, fuck, Jim," she groans. "Don't..I...Right there. Please."

Over the years, he's thought about this. Probably more than he should have, honestly, since they were always friends first, but he'd thought about it anyway. A part of his heart has always belonged to Joyce and he's never been able to entirely stop thinking about her.

It's better than he imagined. He can feel the way Joyce's body tightens around his fingers, her thighs flexing, and the sound she makes, his name, that's almost enough to make him come right there against the sheets. Instead, he focuses on her, on making this last, making it good, dragging her through her orgasm and maybe toward another, if he can manage it.

It goes on and on and, when it subsides, when Jim's mouth is still working against her, she pushes her fingers into his hair, tugging lightly. "Come up here, Hop," she says, her voice gentle, almost dreamy. "Right now, please."

The tug of his hair is almost as good as the rest and Hopper hums again, softly, lips pressed to her thigh, before he finally moves. He slides up the length of her body, marvelling again at the fact that they’re here. After so long, they’re here.

“Hi,” he says when they’re face to face again, then he kisses the point of her chin, the corner of her mouth.

"Hi," says Joyce, tasting herself on his mouth and groaning softly. Her fingers flutter along his bearded jaw, pushing back into his hair. "I need you to fuck me now, Jim," she says, her eyes dark and wide and fixed on his face. "Think you can do that for me?"

He grins then, an expression rarely seen on his face, one that makes years fade from his eyes, and he slides a hand up the side of Joyce's body. His palm cups one breast, fingers twisting at her nipple and he says, "Yeah, I think I can do that."

While there are plenty of things Hopper has fucked up in his life, he's at least never had complaints in bed.

Shifting, he slips one hand under Joyce's thigh, tugging her leg up before he takes hold of himself. With the head of his cock, he teases her a bit, rubbing himself against her clit, the wet skin of her cunt, before pressing inside just the slightest bit.

When he grins like that, when he really smiles, he reminds her of the kid she grew up knowing. The people they were before the world got to both of them. He palms her breast, pinches at her nipple, and Joyce arches her back, pressing into his hand. When he rubs the head of his cock against her, Joyce bites her lip over a moan, squirming, her nails digging into his shoulder. When he starts to ease into her, she groans.

"Like you mean it, Jim."

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