Work Text:
It's been so long. So long since she's had an empty house, when she wasn't working, wasn't exhausted, wasn't trying to do laundry and cook dinner and clean up all at the same time. So long since she's had a moment to herself.
It's such a little thing, gun metal gray and nondescript. It only needs one battery, but it packs a lot of power. Just nestled right there, and the heat is already coiling inside her. It'd be nice to have something hard inside her, sure. Something to squeeze down on, and the press of warm weight pumping on top of her, but this will do. This will do just fine.
She's close now, her muscles are tensing, shaking. That molten pressure is building in her center. Holy fuck but it feels good. It's been so long since she's taken the time, so long since she's done this properly. She's close now. She can feel it gathering, feels the heat beginning to radiate from her core. Oh god, she's there, just there... when she hears a creak and a gasp from the doorway.
Shit.
For a terrible moment, she thinks one of the boys is home. She's scrambling to cover herself, thank god she's still mostly in her pajamas, when she registers the shocked eyes and bushy mustache of Hopper staring at her from the threshold.
Son of a bitch. She's going to murder him. She was so close. So close.
"What the fuck Hop?!"
She's still scrambling to get her shorts up, to get the vibrator turned off and out of sight.
"Shit! Sorry! Shit. I'm sorry!"
He's bright red, but still somehow rooted to the spot.
"I came to fix... I heard..." He's rambling, gesturing vaguely in a panic. "Thought you were... crying. I'll just..." Then he's wheeling backwards and she can hear him stumbling down the hallway towards the front door.
Her groan turns into a sigh. She throws off the bed sheets and gets up to go after him.
"Hop, goddammit, wait."
She catches him in the entryway. He's still bright red and looking everywhere but at her, even though she's decent now. Fuck, she's still throbbing. She tries not to think about that.
"Hop, what... what are you doing?"
Impossibly, he goes even redder. "I was gonna fix the window." He's mumbling. "Thought I heard..." He trails off, still edging towards the door.
She sighs again, rubs her temples. He'd come to help. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you. You just... startled me."
He snorts, but still isn't looking at her. "No. I, um. I should have called. Or just, knocked. I... I'm sorry..." He trails off.
She rubs her forehead, huffs, tries to quell her embarrassment. It's normal. Everyone does it. He does it. I was in my own bedroom. He's the one who just barged in.
"Well, I guess you got an eye full." She's trying for bravado, but knows she's a little pink too. Hopper saw her. Hopper.
He clears his throat. "Um. No. Didn't see much." Then he's looking sheepish. "Um, sorry." He's back to mumbling, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes down.
She can't help but feel the heat coming off him, feel his proximity. It's not helping her current predicament. She runs her eyes over his shoulders, over his arms. She can feel her flush rising, and snaps her eyes down too. She can't help but notice though, there's a little tension in his pants. Huh.
"I, um. Sorry, again. I'll let you get..." He's about to say back to it but fumbles as he realizes the implication. It doesn't matter though, she knows what he was going to say. She snorts, and he's going even redder.
"That obvious huh?" She thinks he can probably see the flush still on her, possibly even smell her arousal. She's going for bravado again, but feels herself blushing.
"Um. No. I mean..." He's spluttering, back peddling.
She can't help but laugh at him, just a little. She's embarrassed, but he's mortified, and that's kind of funny.
His eyes flash up to meet hers, and then he's laughing a little too.
"Shit. Yeah. I'm really sorry. I'll just..." He's edging toward the door again.
He almost gets there before she can manage, "Hey, um..."
He stops, looking at her.
She's feeling brave. Perhaps frustration makes for bravery. Or perhaps shared embarrassment does. They've already shared so much over the years. She's still looking down, but manages to find her voice.
"Or... you could... stay?" It's a squeak.
She brings her gaze up to meet his. His eyes burn back into her.
"Joyce..." It's a question. It's a warning. It's a prayer.
She manages to hold his gaze, whispers, "Stay."
He closes the distance between them quickly, but hesitates just shy of actually touching her. His size and proximity are overwhelming. He's towering over her, crowding her space. Yes.
Carefully, he brings his hand up to her cheek, touches her so gently, watching her face intently.
"Joyce..." He tries again.
She closes the remaining distance between them, bringing her lips to his. His hand tangles in her hair as he kisses her back. First gently and carefully, then giving in to hard and deep.
She pulls him against her, finally, finally feeling the press of him as he responds, pushing her gently against the wall. She fists the front of his shirt in her hands, pulls him into her, her tongue in his mouth. She feels his arousal straining against her abdomen through his jeans, she grinds against it. He groans.
"I'm sorry," she gasps, embarrassment flickering again. "I had a, uh, head start."
He snorts.
She's trying to rein it in, slow down, take her time, savor this. It's been so long. And it's Hopper. She takes a deep breath, tries to steady herself.
He grinds back, gruffly pants, "I got you." And she knows it's a promise.
His hands slide up her sides, ghost over her breasts, the swell just visible under the thin cotton of her shirt. She's so warm and soft under his hands. She can feel him hesitating, marveling. Finally he adds pressure to his touch and kisses her deeply. She's already pretty sure she's going to combust, and they haven't even gotten their clothes off.
She tugs at his shirt, working at the buttons. Blue flannel, it's warm and it smells like him. He laughs a little, low and deep, as she pushes it back off his shoulders. He lets go of her long enough to ease it off. Then she's rucking up his Henley, running her hands up his sides and over his chest. He pulls that over his head too and then he's pressing his bare chest against her, his hands slipping under her flimsy shirt. He cups her breasts, feels the nipples harden in his palms. He kisses her neck. Gently, don't leave a mark, then he's pulling her shirt up and over her head too.
His eyes are wide as he takes her in, then they close and he moans at the feel of her bare breasts pressed against him. He's so warm, he's just radiating heat against her. She runs her hands over his chest. She feels the soft skin, runs her fingers through his chest hair, palms a nipple. It's still not enough. She brings her mouth to him. Kissing, tasting. His chest, his throat. He shudders as her tongue glides over a nipple, his hand tangling in her hair. Fuck he tastes good. She's not as careful as he was. She does leave a mark, a small one, just under his collar bone, before gliding over his nipples again. He gasps, shuddering. God she loves to make him do that. She does it again and he moans.
One hand comes to cup a breast, and he swirls the thumb over her nipple. It's such a raw feeling, like an exposed nerve. Almost too much. His other hand trails down to her waistband. She feels him hesitating.
"Joyce..."
"Please." She whispers. Please.
He slides his hand onto her shorts. He feels how wet she is, how warm and swollen with need.
"Oh fuck." There's surprise and wonder in his voice.
He runs a finger between her lips. So soft, so gentle she can hardly stand it. His bulk is still pressed deliciously against her, pressing her against the wall. One thumb is still circling a nipple. She's gripping his biceps, quivering against him.
"Please," she whispers again. Then her hands are pulling at his belt.
He eyes the entryway they're in, the front door next to them. Then he's walking them to the bedroom. It's awkward, and clumsy, and he trips a little. He has to take his hand out of her pants to do it, even though she's still fumbling at his belt.
He gets them in the door, closes it behind him, sits her on the bed. Absurdly, he needs to halt proceedings now to take off his boots. She watches him work at the laces. He looks back at her, and his eyes are hungry.
Boots off, he goes to work on his belt. Then he's off balance, hopping a little as he tries to get his pants off. "Shit!"
She laughs a little again, and he levels a look at her. Then she's pulling him on top of her and he's kicking his pants off behind him as he scrambles over her. Yes.
He rests most of his weight on his arms, like a gentleman, but he's on top of her and his kisses are deep and hard, and he's running a hand back down into her shorts, and it's just delicious. She could live here. She could die here. Then he's pulling them off and sliding down to position himself between her legs, and her heart is in her throat.
He slides his tongue along her core, and she's already bucking into him. He groans against her and sets up a slow rhythm. It's not enough to make her cum, but god, it's so good. He eases a finger in, then another. She's fluttering and squeezing around him. He curls his fingers inside her and her eyes roll back. Yes.
It's been so long since a man has done this, let alone done it well. Lonnie rarely bothered, and Bob... Bob did his best. But this. This is exquisite. He's moving a little faster now. The roughness of his scruff prickling delightfully against her thighs. His fingers are big and his tongue is relentless and she thinks she might actually die here. She's trying to be quiet, even though the boys aren't home, but it's becoming increasingly difficult.
"Yeah." He grunts, picking up his pace.
"Please." She moans again. Please, please make me come. I was so close. It's been so long.
He hums against her, never faltering, and oh god, it's building again. That hot coil of need is tightening in her core and oh god. Oh god. She cries out, in spite of herself. Her legs are shaking around him as the pleasure radiates out through her body, licking warm tendrils from her center, out through her limbs, all the way down to her toes.
He works her through it, fingers still flexing, tongue still moving, as the aftershocks wrack through her. Her body shaking and spasming as the pleasure continues in waves. Fuck.
He doesn't stop though. He just carries her through it, then builds off it into another. And then another. And then another. She's given up all hope of being quiet now, thank god the boys aren't home. No man has ever done this. She's shaking and nearly crying when she finally has to make him stop. She's trembling and boneless when he pulls himself back up to her.
"Holy shit." Is all she can manage as he tucks her into his chest and wraps himself around her. She feels the rumble of his chuckle in his chest. "I make up for blue balling you?"
"More than."
She can feel him smile.
As she's gathering herself back together she registers his erection pressed between them. Absurdly, he still has his boxers on, but she's already getting a sense of the size of him through the thin cotton.
She reaches a hand down, gently traces over him through the fabric. He sucks in a breath and groans.
"Don't have to." He's clearly struggling to be coherent with her hand on him. "We can stop."
She laughs at the absurdity of that, and palms him harder. He moans, but stills her hand against him.
"Seriously." He's more eloquent this time, but his voice is thick. "If you want to stop. S'okay."
She just shakes her head at him in disbelief. "Do you want to stop?"
"Um, no. But I don't want to... take advantage."
She snorts at this. "You're not taking advantage." She gives him a squeeze, and he moans, his hips bucking against her. "I promise."
He just groans, closing his eyes and letting go of her wrist. She slips her hand inside his boxers, ghosts over the length of him. She can see the pleasure on his face. She smiles at him, even though his eyes are still closed.
He is a big boy. She can tell without even really seeing him yet. He's hard and heavy in her hand. She wraps her fingers around him, feels him press into the contact. Her fingers don't even reach all the way around him. She gives an experimental stroke, and her fist has to travel an impressive distance between base and tip. He throws his head back, gasping.
She's still smiling. She wants to see him. She slips his boxers down, he opens his eyes to see what she's doing, and helps kick them off.
There he is. She just takes him in for a minute. Hopper. Her Hopper. She runs her hands over his broad shoulders, through the spray of hair on his chest, over his muscular pecs, down his fuzzy belly, up his thick thighs. And his dick, jutting up from between his legs. It's hot and hard and as big as it felt under her wandering hand.
He's watching her from under hooded eyes. He's watching her devour him. He shivers and squirms a little under her gaze, under her touch. A blush is creeping up his neck.
She climbs over him, and he seems a little surprised at first, but brings his hands up to hold her, clearly happy with this arrangement. His broad hands span almost her entire side, her entire back. She's kissing him, hard, while he palms her back, kneads her breasts. Then she's kissing his throat, and down his chest. His skin is so warm and soft under her lips, his hands feel so strong and tender where they grasp her, and he smells so, so good.
She slides lower, getting eye to eye with his erection. She smirks a little, runs her finger up the vein on the underside, watches him shiver.
He sees her intent and seems to almost panic for a minute.
"Joyce, you don't have to do that." His voice is tight and breathless. "I don't expect... reciprocation."
She levels a look at him. "But can I?"
"What?" He seems honestly baffled.
"I want to. Can I?"
"Jesus, yes." Shock showing on his face. "If that's..."
He trails off as his head flops back and his mouth goes slack, because she's licking up the length of his shaft. Fuck he tastes good. Earthy, and musky, and salty, and Hopper. She slips his head in her mouth, swirls her tongue, hears his gasp and moan. She smiles around him, and sinks deeper.
There's no way she's going to be able to take all of him, but that's okay. Her hand grips the base, and between her hand and her mouth she's got most of him.
He tangles a hand in her hair. Not pushing or pulling, just touching and holding. Connection, but no pressure. She runs her free hand up his thigh, under his balls as she sucks and strokes him. She can feel him tensing and squirming, trying not to buck into her as she moves up and down over him. She can hear his gasps and moans of pleasure. She tastes a salty burst of precum. Fuck, she could stay here forever.
A few more strokes, and he's putting a hand on her shoulder, pulling away from her.
"Close." He's breathing through clenched teeth, trying to get himself under control, and it's the hottest thing she's ever seen. She's tempted to push him over the edge just to watch him cum, but she wants him inside her before this is over, so she lets him go and gives him a minute.
He's breathing hard, just staring at her in wonder. She's grinning at him, but she's not sure why that was such a surprise. She knows his reputation. Getting head can't be that out of the ordinary, can it?
She reaches over to the nightstand, digs around a bit, and comes back with a condom, hands it to him. He stares at it dumbly, then up at her.
"What...?"
Has she misread this? "Hey, we don't have to. If you'd rather..."
Maybe he actually did want to cum in her mouth? Or maybe just in her hand? Or his own hand? She can't imagine why he'd want to stop now, but she will if that's what he wants.
He's shaking his head, still looking dazed. "No, no. Want to. Just, you sure?"
She rolls her eyes at him. She takes the condom back from him, opens it, pinches the tip, and starts rolling it down his length. She looks him in the eyes.
"Yes."
And then he's on her. His hand cupping her face, kissing her deeply.
Yes.
His weight on her is delicious. His large frame dwarfs hers, but he's being so careful not to crush her. She opens her legs, angles her hips, and grinds up into him. He grinds back, groaning into her mouth. He reaches down between them, taking himself in hand, but hesitates, watching her face keenly.
She pushes up against him again, then reaches down herself to guide him inside her.
Fuck, it's so good. He's hard and thick and the stretch is so good. Barely coherent, she's just angling and grinding herself up against him as he bottoms out inside her. She's never been so full, stretched so thin.
"Fuck, Joyce." It's barely a whisper, almost a sigh, into the warm skin in the crook of her neck. She feels the breath of it stirring her hair.
He's unmoving inside her, just trying to breathe, trying to get himself under control. Then he's moving. Slowly at first, but then faster. Picking up the pace as he watches her face for any sign of discomfort.
She pivots her hips, adjusts the angle to maximize the friction, and it's just so, so good. She's clinging to him, practically vibrating. She knows she's scratching up his back a little, and tries to use the pads of her fingers instead, because there's no way in hell she's going to be able to stop clawing at him all together.
His face is pressed to hers. He's huffing and puffing against her, she can feel his breath on her neck. Then he opens his eyes and looks at her, and he is completely open. The intimacy of it floors her.
"Jesus, Hop." Is all she can manage, because suddenly she's almost crying. But she still looks back at him. Matching his gaze, staring into his soul.
He touches his forehead to hers, and smiles the sweetest smile. Then he throws a swivel into his hips, and she's gasping, head lolling side to side in her pleasure. Then he's hoisting a leg over his shoulder and pumping powerfully. Each thrust thrilling through her like electricity. She's losing herself in him, just feeling each stroke as he hammers himself into her. He is the center of the universe, pumping into her, and it's so good she might cry.
Something in the bed rolls against his hand. It's her bullet vibrator. He snatches it up, flicks it back on, adjusts his angle, and places it almost, but not quite, exactly where she had it earlier.
Her orgasm hits her so hard she screams. Her hips lift up, her legs clench around him. She's cumming so hard she almost bucks him out. She is crying now, burying her face in his chest and clawing at his shoulders. Tears are leaking out of the corners of her eyes as her entire body turns to liquid, and then boils. Wave after wave of searing pleasure washes over her. It's so good she can hardly stand it.
She takes him with her. The clench of her around him, the sounds she's making, the vibration of the bullet against him, and it's all over. Pumping, spasming, emptying inside her, he's gasping, grunting, not too far from crying himself with the pleasure of it.
They slow together. His arms are suddenly wobbly as noodles and he pitches to the side to keep from collapsing on top of her, just managing to hold the base of the condom as he slips out. She moans at the loss of him. He just chuckles, and, after removing the condom, wraps himself around her.
She's still breathless and shaky, nuzzling into him. His chest is heaving against her. He's not exactly in danger of a coronary, but he's not as young as he used to be either. He's definitely still catching his breath.
"Holy shit Hop." Her world is still spinning.
He smiles against her, breathes, "Yeah," into her hair.
It takes them both a while to come down. Pressed together, limbs tangled. He runs his broad hands through her hair, down her back. Staring into her eyes, he brushes her cheek with his thumb. She smiles at him, kisses him tenderly.
"Bet you're less sorry you walked in on me now, aren't you?"
He's chuckling. "That wasn't my intent. I wasn't trying to... It was an accident."
"Yeah, I know." She nudges him. "But why'd you think I wouldn't want to do this?"
He shifts a little.
"Well... I'd just interrupted you... I didn't want to take advantage."
Wait, what? He didn't really think... "You thought I just wanted to get off? Thought that's why I...?" She stops touching him and wraps her arms around herself, pulling the blanket up.
"NO. No. Not like that. I just... I didn't want you to have any regrets. I couldn't... I couldn't stand that."
He grips her tighter, but she's trying to protect her heart now. She thought she'd seen something in him earlier, but she must have been wrong. It must have just been the heat of the moment.
"Hey, it's okay. I know you're... you're a busy guy." If she says it first, maybe it won't hurt so much.
He just stares at her, dumbfounded.
"Jesus Joyce, it's not like that. Not with you."
She's looking at him too now. His eyes are piercing.
"And anyway, it hasn't been... like that. Not for a while now. Not since..."
"Not since El?" A kid will do that.
He's shaking his head. "No. I mean, yes, El too... But not since... not since you."
Oh. It takes her breath away.
He's looking at her again, and he's so wide open. She's trying not to cry now.
"Jesus Hop," she whispers. She's looking back at him, she gently touches his face. He smiles the softest smile then, and his eyes are shining.
Then she's melting back into him, clinging to him, and he's pulling her in and holding her tight. He goes back to running his fingers along her back, he buries his face in her hair, she toys with the hair on his chest. They are quiet for a long time.
Eventually she stirs.
"No," he whispers. "Stay."
She giggles. "Maybe for a bit longer, but we need to get your clothes out of the doorway before the boys get home."
His eyes pop open at that. "Shit." Then he's scrambling up, tugging on his jeans, and venturing out to retrieve them.
When he comes back, shirts balled in his hands, he looks at her sheepishly. She just chuckles at him and indicates the space next to her. He shucks his jeans and slides back in eagerly. She snuggles close.
"When are the boys getting home?"
"Not for a while yet" she mutters against his chest. She can feel him smiling.
"Okay."
"Yeah, okay."