Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The energy in the Martin’s home was simmering.

Everyone around her ignored it or did their best to pretend like this wasn’t the reason that they were all here. But she knew – she knew and she couldn’t just let it go. 

It was her first time putting the keys in the bowl. Lonnie had been the one to suggest it; so eager to pick out another woman’s keys, to take her back to their house. The thought made her a little queasy, but she had agreed. Now that she was here, the idea of freedom seemed… Exhilarating. Even if it was freedom found with another man.

A few men around the packed home eyed her when she slipped the keys into the bowl. They exchanged glances between themselves and smiled.

Everyone in this house knew what it meant to place their keys in the bowl. A wordless contract, an unspoken agreement formed between these walls.

She perched herself on the couch, politely sipping a fancy drink that matched her pastel pink dress. It wasn’t something she would usually pick out for herself, she felt out of sorts in such a feminine color, although she would never admit that to Lonnie. He picked out the dress for her, whispering in her ear a dark and almost ominous reminder; ‘ it may help attract the kind of man that will go looking for your keys and your keys alone.’

Joyce sighed and set her glass down on the table in front of her, wondering how she got herself into this. How did these kinds of parties become popular for bored women like her, or maybe it was the men who were bored? None of it mattered, because by the end of the night, she would be headed home with someone entirely new.

She recognized some of the faces around the living room and into the kitchen. Mostly women who she liked and respected and whom she knew would never breathe a word about this beyond these walls. That was the thing about these parties – even during them, no one seemed to address the elephant in the room. Everyone danced around the subject. 

“Joyce,” came a soft, higher voice. The couch she was sitting on dipped, and she blinked away her thoughts to see Karen Wheeler seated next to her. 

“Karen, oh thank God you’re here.” She almost wished that Karen would grab her keys – although she knew if that were to happen, Lonnie would want in on the action and the last thing that Karen wanted was Lonnie. 

Karen smiled down at her. “I’m surprised you’re here,” the blonde half-whispered. “Lonnie is so-”

“I know,” she cut her off. “But it was his idea.”

Karen’s mouth dropped open and she raised her martini in the air. “To a night of new adventures.”

Joyce clinked her glass against her friends’. Just as she was about to agree, movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. 

Leaning against Jerry Martin’s fireplace, a tall, broad, handsome man slowly dragged his eyes up her body, leaving nothing up for debate about what was running through his mind. His button-down shirt was simple, his jeans a little too casual for the night, but she always did have a thing for men who didn’t conform to societal norms. His eyes were blue; intense and focused on her and her alone. 

Hunger burned in his gaze. She found herself wanting to stoke the fire and drive him wild, and she didn’t even know his name. 

His inspection of her lingered along the dip in her dress, at the subtle hint of skin that led toward the swell of her breasts. A small flush colored her chest the same pale pink as her garment.

“To a night I’ll never forget.”

The nervousness continued to bubble up inside of her as the night continued. 

Karen’s keys were the first to be picked — which was no surprise to Joyce. A man she recognized from the school board had an arm around her and they walked out together, while the blonde threw a carefree smile over her shoulder. 

Meanwhile, Joyce’s hands and feet had gotten cold, even in the early summer warmth. It happened when she got this worked up and when her adrenaline was pumping. Everyone around her seemed relaxed and she sat alone, thinking of how she could barely breathe. 

Maybe if she picked her own keys—

That’s what she would do. Picking her own keys would solve all of the worries in her mind, and she could go sit at Lover’s Lake until she thought Lonnie would be done with whoever he picked tonight. It would be perfect. 

She downed the rest of her drink and set it on the coffee table in front of her as she walked around the living room toward the bowl. The man from before beat her there — damn his long legs — and he reached into that treacherous bowl. Her heart leaped into her throat, and he raised his eyes to look at her, watch her, and see her reaction as he pulled her keys from the glass. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

“T-those are mine,” she stammered out, reaching for them. 

The man closed his hand, not allowing her to grab them, and smiled victoriously. He had planned this - he had looked for her keys and she didn’t even know his name. He had only seen her that one time; just the briefest moment of eye contact, and he had chosen her keys. 

“Jim Hopper,” he held his hand out to her, and her shaking palm fit so well in his. Even his hands were enormous. She liked it. He seemed protective and dominant, so handsome and a gentleman but something inside of her knew there was more than meets the eye. “My friends call me Hopper.”

“I’m Joyce,” she squeaked out. Her face grew hot as she thought of what he looked like naked — and that she would be finding out very soon. 

Hopper used his grip on her hand to pull her against him, in front of everyone in the house, and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Let’s get out of here, Joyce.”

He led her out of the house with a possessive hand wrapped around her waist while her husband watched from the sidelines.

It turned her on.

She didn’t know what had come over her. That she had been so willing to even go to this party - to leave with this man she had only met and barely knew - under the hefty assumption of them spending the night together.

Her mind went over Lonnie’s expression; pleased but guarded. 

Maybe there will be hell to pay tomorrow. That was something she would have to analyze at a later time. Regardless of what happened tonight, Lonnie was the one who encouraged her to do this. He wanted to do it because it meant he got the same thing in return with someone else’s wife. 

Hopper’s hand fell away from her waist when they got outside and he instead took her hand in his, linking her fingers between his. Goosebumps rippled up her body. She could feel him watching her closely, and she wasn’t quite brave enough yet to look at him. 

Not while she knew that people were still watching from the windows while they descended from the Martin’s house and down the driveway where she hoped that Hopper’s car was.

With his free hand, he pulled the keys out of his jeans and unlocked a beautiful, shining truck. Even in the dimness of the late evening, even though the color itself was black, it shined. 

“Is that a-”

“‘61 Chevy Apache C10,” he rumbled proudly. “C’mon, I’ll take you for a ride.”

The double meaning wasn’t lost on her.

She chanced one last look at the Miller’s house and saw Lonnie in the window, his arm now around a younger blonde woman.

He didn’t even seem jealous.

That’s when it all clicked for her - this was his way of sleeping around with her permission. Sending her off with a strange man to spend the night so he could have that blonde in their bed.

She would be pissed if the thought of Hopper fucking her didn’t turn her on so much. 

They pulled up at his house after thirty minutes of cruising abandoned streets.

She felt at ease with Hopper himself – it was the expectations of the night, the elephant in the room that was nearly suffocating her. The seat on the far passenger side of his truck was long forgotten and she took up residence next to him with their thighs touching. 

His right hand had wordlessly covered hers when she began to fidget with her fingers in her lap. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Joyce,” he whispered after he cut the engine. “We could just talk. I could sleep on the couch. It’s your choice.”

She couldn’t say it right now - but she was eternally grateful that he was giving her the option of an out and was being so respectful. She imagined that it wasn’t always the case and that women during these parties were fully expected to have sex with the men regardless of their interest or consent.

After exhaling a shaky breath, she chanced a glance over at him. “It’s your choice too.”

His eyes dropped to her mouth. “I’ve already chosen.”

Her gaze followed the path he had taken and fixed itself on his lips. “I have too.”

She could see his chest rise with anticipation. “And?”

“...And I want you.”

Hopper licked his bottom lip and leaned into her. “Then come inside.”

She closed her eyes when she felt him inching closer and closer, and in the next instant, he was out of the truck and holding the door open for her. 

She wanted him — more than she ought to have. 

More than she’d ever wanted her husband. 

Hopper’s house was a nice two-story home next to dozens of other homes that looked just like it.

He lived in the middle of Suburbia and she felt as though he didn’t really fit in here. As if he was meant for something more meaningful and unique outside of this pre-assembled life they both live.

She shied away from the photos of him and his wife, God only knows she didn’t dare look at the ones that had a child or other family members in them. This is a home she would have probably visited on a social call with his wife, who she now knows is Diane. 

In an odd twist of fate, Diane was the one who originally suggested participating in the key bowl parties, and Hopper had been the reluctant one. She would always go home with the same gentleman every time and he pretended not to notice while he picked his own keys out of the bowl and drove himself home alone each time. 

This was his first time participating too.

It made her feel a little more at ease – even though merely being around him made her stomach do somersaults. He was intense and dominant, and so sure of himself. It was a stark contrast to Lonnie, who always wanted to try and control Joyce, with little success. He didn’t have the power and bravado that Hopper does. 

Secretly, Joyce had always craved a man who was confident enough to take control and be given her trust fully so that she could just… Relax. It took so much to give someone else the reins, even just in the bedroom. Yet with Hopper, it felt natural to let him lead. 

His voice was in her ear, tickling her neck with his cropped beard and hot breath. “Take off your clothes,” he rumbled. “Slowly.”

At first, her fingers didn’t want to cooperate. They shook with nerves and excitement. She tugged at the bow holding the front of her dress together, and it unraveled, softly swaying open and revealing her white satin slip and garter beneath. 

Hopper moved to his large bed, which was covered in a tasteful light green duvet and fluffy pillows his wife probably picked out. She couldn’t think about Diane – not when she was letting her dress fall to the floor. 

He let out a low whistle from across the room. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

All she could do was nod. He leaned back on the bed and braced himself with one hand, and with the other, he stroked himself through his pants. She started to pull the straps down on her slip when he stopped her with just a stern look and a subtle shake of his head.

“Stay still,” he ordered darkly. “I wanna remember you like this.”

Joyce smoothed her hands down the front of her slip and then joined her hands behind her back, allowing him to view every bit of her without obstruction. 

She could feel her heartbeat everywhere. Her temples, her fingertips, and between her legs. Her body was flushed with arousal and he had hardly touched her.

Hopper’s hand continued to squeeze and grip his cock, although he made no effort to undress or free himself from his jeans. He was so in tune with her and watched every movement, every breath; almost as if he was sure that she wasn’t real and was waiting for the moment to end. “What do you want, Joyce?”

She didn’t dare speak – she couldn’t trust her voice to materialize. Never in her life had Lonnie turned her on like this, or made her want to submit. Yet deep down, she knew that Hopper would take care of her. 

And the only way that he would hurt her is if she asked nicely.

Maybe he would judge her for what she truly desired at this moment. She doubted it, however. She took a moment and really thought about what she wanted, and only one thing came to mind.

Slowly, she lowered herself to her knees, delicately placing her hands in her lap and looking up at him. Hopper immediately sat up, intrigued, and left his spot on the bed to come to stand in front of her. 

It only took his index finger beneath her chin for her to look up at him, nearly overcome with need. She rarely did this for Lonnie, and she couldn’t help but compare how different the two men were. Where her husband would be hurrying and aggressive with lust and craving his own pleasure, Hopper seemed to be focused on hers.

Which is why it didn’t shock her when he questioned her. His thumb smoothed over her soft lips and he murmured, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She responded by taking his thumb into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, and gently sucking. Her actions pleased him, which only served to make her wetter. 

He kept eye contact with her while he unbuckled his belt and finally, his clothes started coming off. She could see his teasing nature in how he left the buckle undone and abandoned it to take off his shirt instead, and she only had seconds to memorize the long lines and masculinity of his bare chest. If she were to raise her hands and help him, he would scold her – maybe punish her.

The thought was tempting. He seemed to catch onto her internal battle and made quick work of his jeans and underwear in one motion. The bulge she had seen before was tame compared to what she saw now. He was so long and thick, her mouth watered and she reconciled that she would have to make herself busy around the house tomorrow so no one saw how she struggled to walk.

She couldn’t wait. 

“If it’s too much, tap my leg, okay?”

Joyce nodded and opened her mouth, watching the pleasure roll through him as he directed his cock between her lips. She worked her way down his length until he was seated at the back of her throat. Above her, Hopper panted and speared a hand into her hair, encouraging how deep she had taken him. 

She wanted him to never be able to forget this. For him to come into his bedroom and remember her on her knees for him and have to close his eyes and try to shake away the memory that would continue to replay in his mind. Eagerly, she pulled back and ran her tongue along the underside of his dick, watching his reaction. She gave the head the same treatment as she had done with his thumb earlier, and the noise he made was nearly animalistic.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he moaned, jutting his hips out in time with her mouth. 

She was pleased with herself – having made him feel this good first, making sure he knew exactly who he was getting into bed with. Her pulse continued to thrum between her legs, and oh, she wanted to touch herself while she did this for him. 

Hopper gripped her hair tightly and pulled her off of his cock, leaving a thin trail of saliva between them. “I’m not gonna let you make me come like this,” he growled, using his free hand to swipe a thumb over her wet, swollen bottom lip. “Even if you’ve got a talented mouth.”

He was strong enough to lift her to her feet without any visible strain, and he pushed the straps on her slip off of her shoulders when she was steady. 

“What do you want next?”

She was too shy to say the words. Touch me, her body begged, anywhere. Everywhere.

Jim looked amused by her inability to speak. She had just given him a blowjob, let him fuck her mouth, and she couldn’t say the words. There was no way for her to express precisely what she wanted. He seemed to take her silence as an answer and walked around her once again. She could feel him getting closer and closer until his lips skimmed up the column of her throat. 

Her breath had shuddered out of her; brought on by the skimming of his fingers down her shoulders and over the tops of her breasts. He touched her everywhere but where she needed him. His thumbs brushed over the sides of her breasts but missed the nipples, he caressed her stomach but didn’t go lower.

It was the perfect torture. 

Every moment that passed of him touching her made her wetter. When he finally caved and touched her, she knew she would be embarrassed by how wet she was.

Hopper’s hands were like lightning across her skin. He was still positioned behind her, and she couldn’t see his expression, she could only hear the pleased noises he let out with every new discovery he made. She was quickly learning that he was a tease – and he liked nothing more than winding her up. 

And then his touch was gone.

He appeared in front of her, towering over her petite frame, bending down to hoist her legs around his waist as he walked her back to the dresser on the far side of the room and dropped her down on the solid oak. She could hear the clashing of jewelry behind her and that’s when it clicked. This was his wife’s dresser that he was about to fuck her senseless on.

“Hop-” she started, and was quickly cut off by his mouth sealing over hers in a scorching, brutal kiss. 

Oh, oh, oh. 

Her mind felt fuzzy; heavy and drunk with pleasure, brought on by their exploring hands and the forbidden nature of everything they were doing. Society deemed this to be wrong – they both made vows to other people – and yet, she felt right here with Hopper. The more she felt, the more they kissed, the more she desired him. 

It never waned. It only increased.

His mouth was skilled, but so was hers. She kept up with him, meeting him blow for blow, kiss for kiss until they broke apart, desperate for air. His hand twisted in her hair, craning her neck back so his lips and teeth could find her sensitive skin. 

Hopper kissed down her throat to her collarbone, lower and lower. His hands followed suit and pushed the cups of her slip below her breasts. She had never particularly cared about the treatment they received or didn’t. When he swirled his tongue around her nipple and palmed the other, however, her back arched toward him, begging for more contact.

“Please,” Joyce whimpered, her voice breaking with need.

He smiled against her skin, peering up at her with amusement playing at his expression. She was captivated by him; his eyes, and she ran her fingers through the subtle waves in his hair. “Be patient,” came his quiet order.

Joyce bent down halfway to meet him and kissed him once again, hoping to distract him into doing what she wanted instead of being such a fucking tease. It worked, and he deepened the kiss while his fingers explored, finding the hem of her slip and beyond.

“You’re soaked,” he groaned in her ear. “Must be aching.”

“Yes,” she whimpered, relieved even with the seconds he had been touching her. 

He drove her wild with desire and she was going to be greedy for the rest of her life.

“I’ve got you.”

Maybe it was wrong. She shouldn’t be this turned on and desperate for a man that wasn’t hers, about to fuck him on his wife’s dresser. 

When she opened her eyes, he was bending, kneeling on the floor between her legs. The inside of her thighs were glistening, her decision to go without panties tonight backfired and she was mortified. Hopper was having none of it and delved his tongue out to run along her wet skin. 

“What are you doing?” she gasped, gripping the edge of the dresser to keep upright. Her slip was bunched around her stomach and over her hips, hiding part of his face as he licked her.

He gave her a curious look and pressed a kiss to her thigh. “Has that husband of yours never done this for you?” 

She shook her head, confused and stunned all at once. The ladies in her afternoon tea group were too proper to discuss something like this in detail. Karen and she had discussed sex before, and while Karen was particularly adventurous, she had never talked about men doing this.

“Such a shame,” he murmured, watching her closely as he ran his tongue along the length of her, where she was so wet and sensitive. Joyce gasped with every new sensation. Nothing else compared to it. 

Hopper had obviously done this before. Either that or he figured her out a little too quickly. His tongue moved expertly, focusing on what made her body buck and still managing to tease her. “You taste so fucking good.”

Oh!

“Hopper,” she warned desperately. “I-”

Her protests seemed to encourage him more. He knew, and he wanted it even more. She couldn’t make her vision focus anymore so she closed her eyes. He flicked his tongue faster and added a single finger, sliding it into her with ease and finesse. 

The second he moaned into her skin, her back bowed and she hit her climax, crashing harder than she ever had before. Joyce shook as she came, her body thrashing with every movement of his mouth. 

As she came down, all she could think about is that she had lived this many years and had never known about this. She had gotten on her knees for Lonnie hundreds of times in their marriage. Never had he returned the favor.

It was so selfish.

Perhaps more selfishly, she knew she would need it again.

“Come here.” She reached for him like a lifeline, and he held on, picking her up again. This time he walked her back to the bed and dropped her down. 

When he crawled over her, she ran her hands down his chest, feeling the sprinkle of hair and his heavy beating heart. Hopper looked sinfully good on top of her. His pupils were blown and made his eyes look dangerously dark, and his expression matched. 

“Last chance,” Hopper urged. “Are you sure?”

She wrapped her hand around the thick length of him and positioned him at her entrance. “Yes,” she encouraged. “I need you.”

The head of his cock slid inside of her, stretching her and making her whimper. He took her hands in his and pinned them above her head on the mattress. His mouth sucked at her neck while she gasped for air, he was huge, bigger than she had ever had before. 

“That’s it,” he encouraged her. “Good girl.” His praise made her pulse around him, and he fucked into her further, filling her more than she thought was possible. 

“You’re so big,” she half-whined, burying her face in his shoulder as much as she could while he had her trapped. There was nothing she could do except feel all of him. She loved the lack of control. He made all of the noise in her head disappear. It was blessedly silent; the only sounds were the heavy breathing that came from both of them, and the subtle wet stroke of him fucking her. 

“Almost there, you’re doing so good,” Hopper continued to praise her. She gasped into his mouth when his hips were finally pressed against her skin. “There you go.”

He pulled almost all the way out, and glided his way back in. With every thrust, he deftly watched her, checking to see if she was in pain. She moaned something that was dangerously close to his name, overcome with the perfectly full feeling inside of her. 

Hopper increased his tempo, working her up until he was fucking her hard enough that the bed began to squeak. With his one hand still holding both of hers above her head, he kissed her deeply and moved his mouth to her ear. “You’re so fucking tight, it’s gonna kill me,” he moaned.

She could hear the pleasure in his voice. Her pussy clenched around him in response and drove both of them closer and closer to the edge. Jim let go of her hands, and she quickly brought her hands to his face and pulled him to her mouth. 

 “Touch yourself,” he ordered. God, she loved how commanding he was. There was no question in his voice. Only instructions that she readily followed, eager to be good for him, to continue to be praised. 

Sex with Hopper was an entirely different world than the one she had existed in before. She felt safe and cared for, and at the same time, she felt a twinge of danger, knowing if she disobeyed him she would be punished.

And what’s more, she would probably like it.

Joyce had spent the better part of tonight wondering what he would be like in bed and nothing in the wildest parts of her imagination had prepared her for this. He sat back and yanked her further down the mattress so he could watch her while he fucked her. 

She felt dirty. But his sins cleansed her; she would gladly worship him on her knees as long as he returned the favor again. These stolen moments with him felt closer to God than she ever truly had.

“Come inside me,” she sobbed, her fingers working faster with his body, catapulting her towards a second orgasm. Her first one had been surprising and new – it shocked her to her core. This one had been building while he fucked her, and if she were being honest, she knew she had tried to back away from the edge because she never wanted it to end. She couldn’t deny it anymore. Her legs shook, and so did his hands as he took hers one last time and pinned them above her head. 

Hopper drove into her, spurred on by her words, and they gasped together. They shared breathless kisses between cries and moans. 

She needed to feel him falling over the edge just like she had before. He would pull her with him, she knew the sight of him would. 

“Joyce,” he growled, holding her down while he fucked into her mercilessly. “Watch.”

He leaned up on their hands just enough to give her a view of him disappearing inside of her. Hopper moaned out her name, and she felt him, pulsating wildly, filling her with his come. The sensation drove her to follow him and she squeezed around him, leaving them both crying out and breathless.

Slowly, he pulled out of her and laid down beside her on the bed. It took minutes for them to catch their breath, and their hands lazily caressed each other while they regained their strength. 

Joyce moved first, rolling onto him and kissing his damp chest. The reality of their situation was setting in and she never wanted it to end. She would eventually have to give this up – and she didn’t know how she was going to. 

“I can hear you thinking,” he laughed quietly, stroking his hand up her back languidly. 

“Just thinking that I’ll have to go back soon,” she whispered somberly. 

“You can stay the night,” Hopper mused, ghosting his mouth over hers. “Lonnie will be busy.”

Confusion colored her features. She figured that he and Lonnie knew each other vaguely, maybe through mutual friends, but they were so different and her husband had never mentioned him before. Tonight was the first time she had even seen him. 

“How do you know-”

“That’s who Diane is with.”

Joyce sat up, covering her mouth in shock. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew.”

She closed her eyes and concentrated – remembering the woman in the window that Lonnie had his arm around, and the bride in the wedding photo she had spotted in Jim’s living room. Some years had passed, but she was the same woman. 

“I didn’t seek you out of revenge,” he continued. “I didn’t realize you were Lonnie’s wife until he watched you leave. I saw you from across the room, and I thought you were beautiful… And when you looked at me, every dark part of myself I had tried to repress came to the surface. I knew I had to pick your keys.”

Joyce smoothed her hands up his chest and pushed him back down onto the bed. “I could sense it,” she barely whispered, kissing down his neck. “The way you looked at me. It made me want to do anything you told me to do.”

He spoke calmly and ominously in her ear. “When you come to the Martins’ house next week, I want you in blue,” he sucked at a spot on her neck and continued. “And when you come home with me again, I’ll make you beg for my mouth.”

Arousal pulsed between her legs at the thought.

“It’s a date.”

Chapter Text

girl, you know I play my role when I'm inside that
with my hands around your throat, I know you like that
girl, I'll do anything
to hear you scream my name, I love your game, I do, I do

When you come to the Martins’ house next week, I want you in blue.

He consumed her thoughts the entire week. It kept her mind off of Lonnie; who she was rightfully pissed at and barely spoke to for days. When he finally worked up the nerve to ask her what was wrong, she just stared at him.

He knew that she knew everything – but he wasn’t brave enough to expose everything that he had been holding back from her. 

It wasn’t just about Diane. It was that he had been going home with Diane every time, while she hadn’t even mustered up the courage to put her keys in the bowl. She would go stay with one of her friends for the night, maybe get a little tipsy to drown the restlessness that had been building inside of her for months, hell, probably years.

She thought about how Lonnie slept at night while knowingly misleading her. None of her girlfriends had ever spoken about what Hopper did. Was it so commonplace to them that they never thought to mention it while they were gossiping about other bedroom antics? Or was it something that was never done and they didn’t know either?

It drove her to near madness; until she broke down and called Karen over for tea. This was the first time she had seen the blonde since the party, and because she was invariably up to date on every facet of married life, Joyce felt there was no choice but to pick up the phone and offer tea under the guise of her own personal fact-finding mission.

Once Karen was seated in front of her and the boiling water poured over her favorite orange pekoe, she cracked beneath her self-imposed pressure. “I have to ask you something,” she stammered out, hushing her voice despite the house being empty except for the two women.

“I knew there was something on your mind,” she started, and when Joyce furrowed her brows, she continued. “We’ve known each other practically our whole lives, and you’ve never invited me over for tea. You’re not a bad hostess, dear, you just don’t like the fuss of company coming over. If I was married to Lonnie I’d probably feel the same way,” she added. The blonde smiled up at her politely while mischief played at her expression. “Well, spit it out.”

She hated that the woman was right. This life – being a wife, staying home all day every day, never felt right to her. She always wanted something more. But this was what was expected of her, so she married Lonnie and tries to keep him happy, even that she feels like is a moot point when she hadn’t been happy in a long time. 

Other women never spoke openly in the town about feeling a lack of fulfillment, and so there she always was, shrouded in guilt for thinking that her privileged life wasn’t enough.

“Has a… When you’ve gone home with…” she trailed off, not sure how to phrase the question. It was becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second and she mentally begged Karen to save her from the embarrassment and somehow read her mind.

“Joyce, just ask the question. I’m not going to judge you. Close your eyes if you have to,” she laughed, placing a reassuring hand over hers.

Once she swallowed her pride and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, she was able to speak what had been on her mind for the better part of a week. 

“Has a man ever… Put his mouth… There? With you?”

She straightened immediately and looked across at her incredulously. “Oh my god!” she barked out another laugh and tried her best to steel her expression. “Has Lonnie never-”

Joyce shook her head and couldn’t quite meet the woman’s eye. 

“But Hopper did.”

His name on the blonde’s lips shocked her. She hadn’t told her who it was that she went home with on Friday, only that she had sealed the deal with someone.

“C’mon, Joyce. Hop has never gone home with anyone, just like you. But when he looked at you on Friday, it was like… Fate.”

She sipped her tea, and despite it being too hot still, she needed something to distract her from how the conversation had suddenly turned. 

“You have to tell me how it was,” Karen encouraged, eyes wide with excitement. When she shrunk back and her cheeks and neck grew hot, the other woman gasped. “You’re speechless, I can’t believe it.”

“He’s very… Attentive.”

“Attentive.”

“Yeah.”

“So what time am I coming by on Friday to get you ready then?”

Joyce’s whole face was red and the heat was so warm it felt as though she had just stuck her face in front of an open oven.

“Seven’s good,” she deadpanned.

“Welcome to the lifestyle, Mrs. Byers.”

Karen had been good on her word and arrived just as the clock struck seven with a giant tote of beauty products beneath her arm and a vinyl garment bag over her shoulder. 

She trusted her with this sort of thing. Ever since they were kids, she was put together. Her mother had relentlessly driven home the importance of decorum and class, and it had stuck with her all these years later.

The realization came to Joyce after being fussed over for a solid hour that she was being painted up for Hopper. He would be the one to reap the benefits of Karen’s hard work, and he would be the one to make a mess of her after he took her home.

She’d have to thank the woman somehow, but that was something she would have to plan out on a different night. 

Tonight she wanted to feel like a seductress. She wanted to make it impossible for him to stay away from her, and she wanted him to be tempted enough that he’d risk not making it back to his place before he had to have her. Hopper gave her a rush – and brought out a part of herself that she never knew existed.

By getting to know Hopper better, she was getting to know herself. Maybe for the first time in her life. 

When they both got to the Martins’ house, heads turned as they walked through the door together. She was used to that whenever she was in public with Karen. The blonde was a showstopper. She didn’t blame the men, and some of the women too, for checking her out.

Only tonight, those eyes shifted to hers. She began to wither beneath the attention; she didn’t much care for it her entire life, and tonight was no different. 

The dress she had picked out was deemed too safe by Karen and quickly replaced with something from her own closet. Her only stipulation was that it had to be blue, just for him. In its place was a deep blue off-the-shoulder dress, which clung to her skin more than she had wanted. She knew the fit was the look that she was going for. The show-stopping, breathtaking kind of look – one she hoped would drive Hopper mad. 

If she were lucky, he’d take her home and pay homage to the dress on his knees.

And when you come home with me again, I’ll make you beg for my mouth.

Karen stuck with her and gently prodded her further into the house. The bowl of keys was placed in the center of the room, and they both walked towards it when she spotted Hopper. He stood against the same spot by the unlit fireplace, looking every bit as handsome as she remembered. His black button-down shirt matched the dark look in his eyes as he took her in. 

A small, appreciative smile formed on his lips, and he nodded to her while she dropped the keys into the bowl once again. This key game was starting to become familiar to her, and she knew after the spectacle she had just made for herself, Hopper would have his work cut out for him to assure that he was going to be the one to pick her keys and take her home.

They had to play this right – if they hadn’t, they’d raise too much suspicion about their intentions. Hopper had to make it known that he fully intended to take her home without letting everyone know that she wanted to be picked by him and only him. 

Karen took care of the drinks for both of them and the two women sat down on an unoccupied couch. She positioned herself to be able to look at Hopper from her spot without turning her head. 

Joyce was eternally grateful for her friend. Not every woman could put aside being the spectacle or the star of the show in order to allow another woman to step into the limelight, even if it was just for show. 

“Lonnie is staring at you,” the blonde mumbled, attempting to blur her lips with her martini glass as she sipped from it. 

Maybe it was terrible of her, but she had nearly forgotten about her husband. One glance toward the kitchen and she locked eyes with him, and he gave her a curt, polite smile. He was still in the doghouse for his inability to tell her the truth the entire time they had been coming here. Tonight, dressing as she had, she let him know that she had every intention of leaving here with anyone but him.

Joyce knew Lonnie, however. There was never a scenario where he cared about her enough to give her the truth. That was fine by her. He could happily take Diane back to their house and do what they always did after these parties. 

Lonnie couldn’t have it both ways.

Hopper managed to wait an hour.

She could tell that it took all of his strength and he was counting down the minutes until it was socially acceptable to pick her keys from the bowl.

In the interim, he watched her out of the corner of her eye. She felt his gaze on her whole body, rippling through her with every stolen glance. 

Karen and she gossiped quietly, leaning into each other while the blonde shared everything she knew about the people at the party. On any other day, she wouldn’t condone this kind of activity, because she too had been the subject of a lot of talk in her years in Hawkins. Tonight, however, she appreciated that her friend was willing to distract her and play it up with her until they could both leave with men that weren’t their husbands.

They sipped at their drinks; Joyce didn’t want to be too sloppy, and she wanted to be just buzzed enough to be brave, but not too far gone that she wouldn’t remember any of it. She would savor every moment between her and Hopper tonight because next week was never truly guaranteed.

After the women shared a laugh over how many ceramic penguins they spotted that were within their eyesight, Karen reached for Joyce and plucked a piece of fluff from her hair. The action made them both stop and look at one another, and she saw Hopper stand up straight. He drained the rest of his drink in one swallow and plucked her keys from the crystal glass in a matter of seconds. 

He had let them play together long enough, she realized. It was his turn with her now.

She had been waiting too.

Hopper made his way over to her and held out his hand, helping her to her feet. He refused to let go of her, and his possessive antics had her pulsing. It felt ridiculous to be this turned on by him – when she rightfully knew that if Lonnie had pulled this, she would be furious.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, Karen.”

The blonde smiled up at her mischievously. She had clearly intended to push Hopper’s buttons into finally making his move. 

Oh, she was going to kill her.

As they exited the house, Joyce didn’t even bother to look for her husband. She knew where he would be tonight, and she doubted he even cared about where she would end up. He was unattentive and mean on the best of days; Hopper had allowed her to finally see the error of her husband’s past. 

Perhaps it was the beginning of the end between her and Lonnie.

The man who occupied her time now had his hand on her lower back. She felt protected and desired – for the second time in her life. 

Under the cover of the night, Joyce and Hopper walked to his truck that was parked up the street. His truck was in front of a single-level home with no lights on outside. 

With not a soul around, he walked her to the right side of the truck and turned, pushing her against the door. He kissed her hard and gripped the back of her neck, pulling her as close to him as possible. 

“Someone might see,” she breathed against his mouth, not wanting to stop despite the risk.

“I don’t give a shit,” Jim growled, dipping his head to suck at her neck. “Just want you.”

“Take me home and you can have me…” she enticed, setting her trap for him to fall into. “Any way you want.”

This time when they drove to his house, they didn’t waste time before getting there. The last time they had done this, they were nervous. This time, she was nearly consumed with need.

His hand had ridden dangerously high on her thigh during their short drive to his place. She was so, so tempted to push his hand beneath her dress and let him feel how ready she was for him. 

Somehow, she managed to keep her composure and followed him into the house. 

“You wore blue for me,” he mused, unbuttoning his shirt. “Good girl.”

Joyce watched him eagerly. He was so much bigger than her; the long lines of his chest and stomach seemed to go on forever. Even with her heels, he still had about a foot of height on her; and it made him all the more intimidating as he stared down at her. 

“Tonight’s going to go a little different,” he murmured, tipping her head up toward him. “Do you trust me?”

Her eyes fell to his mouth as he gauged her reaction. There was no hesitation in her voice. “Yes.” 

Hopper’s shirt fell to the floor and he reached into his back pocket, producing a black satin eye mask. “I want you to wear this,” he whispered, his mouth hovering over hers. “Only this.”

Placing his blindfold in her hands, he moved behind her and unclasped her dress, lowering the zipper with no urgency. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and the slight tremor in his fingers. It always reminded her that this - them - was breaking all of the rules. They had no qualms about giving in to each other and still, the wrongness, the thought of being caught in the act was so tantalizing and tempting. 

Joyce’s dress dropped to the floor. Once she stepped out of it, Hopper took the satin from her and secured it over her eyes. She held out her hand for him, for balance, and he was there immediately to guide her to the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured. Panic began to rise within her. Why was he leaving? What was he doing?  

“Don’t be worried. You’ll like what I’m bringing back for you. No peeking, Joyce.”

He kissed her deeply, delving his tongue into her mouth for a moment before pulling away and walking out. She listened to his feet falling farther and farther away from her until she could only hear soft, subtle noises that she couldn’t discern any clues from. It frustrated her. 

God, she wanted him, she wanted his mouth already. Joyce didn’t want to confess it to him but she had already nearly begged for it. Tonight he was testing her will. 

Testing her limits. 

The only thing she knew was that she had to give him a run for his money. Make him work for it until he was frustrated too. 

Joyce focused on her breathing while she waited for him. Deep, soothing breaths. She needed to clear her mind to rile him up too, and if she got too wrapped up in the things he was going to do to her, she wouldn’t be able to even the playing field.

She wanted to push him just as he had pushed her.

“You still have too much clothing on,” his low drawl spooked her; she hadn’t heard him return to the room. Maybe she had been too focused on her plan of attack to hear him return. 

“Take it off of me then,” she retorted. Hopper hummed, she could tell by the tone that he was amused with her newfound attitude. He wasn’t used to having someone hand it back to him in the bedroom - she sensed that his wife had probably always been more tame than she was.

Joyce was always a little wild than anyone expected. 

Lonnie had been in for the surprise of his life after he married her. That she wouldn’t take his abuse; she would snap back at him and make him wish he had never even thought about raising his voice.

But this wasn’t about her and Lonnie.

Hopper was something entirely different. His fingers skim up her stomach until he reaches the swell of her breasts. He palms them both through the thin lace of her white bra. She had chosen the white color for her bra and panties as a little piece of irony - she was fucking someone outside of her marriage, and the white against her skin made her look so innocent.

They were both far from it.

When the lace was on the floor, he fixed his mouth over her nipple, swirling his tongue and grazing his teeth over it before giving the other one the same treatment. She had to focus. The pleasure was messing with her head and making everything fuzzy. 

Joyce reached out for him, getting a single hand on his bicep before he effectively pinned her back down. “Not yet,” he growled in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. 

What would happen if she defied him?

Hopper withdrew, and damn him, she wanted to see what he was up to. Something dripped on her leg, and her brows furrowed. Then, she gasped loudly as he placed a piece of ice against her abdomen. “Fuck,” she breathed out, trying to keep herself from hyperventilating. Oh, he knew how to keep her on her toes. It was so good, so distractingly good.

“Earlier you said that I could do whatever I want to you…” he trailed off, moving the ice cube up her body, circling it over her nipples. “Is that what you want?”

Her heart was beating wildly, she was so exhilarated and felt warm everywhere, even where the ice cube had been. “Yes,” she finally answered. 

“You want me to take control?” He grabbed her legs and pulled her down the bed toward him. His hard cock rubbed against her when he leaned over her body, and she arched to meet him. “To fuck you however I want?” Hopper’s hand found the underside of her jaw, holding her pointedly as his other hand pulled the blindfold up just enough to see her eyes. “Tell me.”

How could she put into words that everything he did turned her on? That even him checking in with her and wanting her consent made her wetter than her husband ever had?

“I want you to do everything to me,” she whispered against his lips. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” 

Her words echoed his when they were in this position last week. Last week she had been timid about everything, scared half to death of what the night would bring her. Now, she was handing herself over to Hopper on a silver platter, hoping that he would do his worst.

With every moment she spent with him, she was learning new things about herself.

Joyce fisted the duvet in her hands and willed herself to relax. His mouth was all over her neck, down the valley between her breasts. He kissed her stomach, over her hips, and her inner thighs. Every time she thought he was going to take her panties off and kiss her where she wanted it the most, he moved away. 

“Quit being a tease,” she scorned half-heartedly.

He laughed and pressed his mouth to where she wanted him, but her underwear was still on. The pressure was just enough that she whined. 

That seemed to please him - he quickly sat up, and fuck, somewhere in the mix he had gotten rid of his pants and maybe his boxers too. She wanted to peek beneath the blindfold and see what he was doing. What senses she had lost with her sight, however, the way she could hone in on every single thing she was feeling was worth it. He thrust himself over her clothed clit, again and again. 

“Please,” she heard herself whisper. “Please, Hopper.”

She felt his smile even as he kissed her and kept rubbing himself over her. “You finally begged. Good girl.”

The praise he gave her - something she wasn’t used to receiving - had such a visceral effect on her every time they were together. It washed away her internalized scorning over her self-induced failure to rile him up as he had done to her. She promised herself she would get him back later.

For now, Hopper pulling the lace off of her was enough. He lowered himself down the bed and put her legs over his shoulders and took his time kissing her inner thighs again. 

“I need-” she stammered, blindly grabbing him and pushing his head exactly where she wanted him to be. 

The effect was immediate - his tongue swiping up her core, making her legs twitch and her back bow. Every single thing that he did was now making her more and more needy, more frantic. His skill at oral sex was better than memory served. The sounds leaving her own mouth were ones she didn’t recognize, and Hopper held onto her tightly to keep her where he wanted. 

Joyce fought as hard as she could against the quickly building orgasm, and he fought back with his long fingers inside of her. Each moment was a give and take - a frenzied push and pull. She writhed and held onto his hair, keeping him fucking her with his mouth by her grip on him.

Her first orgasm was hard and so intense it broke a sweat out on her skin.

“Open,” Hopper ordered, tapping on her bottom lip with his thumb. When she obliged, he placed his wet fingers on her tongue. It was filthy; so wrong and she loved how he took command and seemed to know what to do in order to drive her crazy with need. 

Joyce sucked his fingers and swirled her tongue, and slyly took off her blindfold. His eyes were the first thing she saw. They were wild and dark, which sent another wave of arousal through her body. 

As soon as his fingers were clean, he put his hand around her throat and leaned in. “I don’t remember telling you that you could take that off,” he growled lowly. “Put it back on and turn over.”

Ever eager to please him, Joyce did as she was told. His hand came down in a hard crack against her ass, forcing the air from her lungs in shock. She bit into the back of her hand to keep in the moan that was threatening to surface and arched her back further. He spanked her again, this time rubbing his cock against her as he did it. 

This time when he spanked her, he pressed the tip of his length at her entrance. 

And when she inevitably moved back towards him, he started to sink inside of her. Hopper kept this up until she felt his thighs against her ass. 

Lonnie had put her in this position throughout their marriage, typically when he was drunk or mad or turned on by God only knows what. It had never felt like this with him. 

With Hopper, she felt so perfectly full, it was so good she almost wept with the relief she found in him fucking her. 

She went to church with her husband to keep up the appearance and Hawkins standard of Godliness, and being bent over by a man twice her size that wasn’t her husband felt closer to Jesus Christ himself than she ever felt before. 

“Joyce,” he groaned, pulling her up until her back met the solid wall of his chest. She craned her neck toward him and he kissed her, the taste of her on both of their tongues. His thrusts were hard and deep - as if he had been pushed by her presence and was a little frayed around the edges just as she felt about him. 

Hopper was a part of her that she didn’t know she was missing. Now that she had found him, she didn’t know how she would ever feel complete without him again.

“Fuck me,” she panted into his mouth. 

That spurred something in him - she felt it. Before, she had thought he was fucking her hard. Now, he was fucking her rough.

Jim pushed her back down on the bed with his hand pressed to the middle of her back, pinning her to the mattress. He kept pushing until she was flattened on the bed with him still moving inside of her. His dick felt huge in this position, and she whimpered into the pillows above her.

Her second orgasm surprised her. She clamped around him so hard he could barely keep going. 

“Feels so fucking good when you come for me,” Hopper rasped in her ear. He slowed his hips, breathing filthy words to her as she came down from such an intense high. He was still inside of her - pulsing, hard, ready.

When Joyce was mostly back in her body, he got her into the position he wanted, with her on her knees and him standing above her. 

“Now I want to see your eyes,” he whispered, taking off the satin and tossing it aside. She reached for his dick and stroked him, sliding her tongue up the base as she locked eyes with him. His pulse was so heavy she felt it with every pass of her mouth over him. 

Hopper tangled his hands in her hair and moaned out her name. His legs shook and she knew he was close; she worked down his length until the tip was pressing at her throat and held onto his thighs, encouraging him. He jutted his hips, fucking her mouth over and over. 

The gasp he let out gave her warning and she swallowed as he came in her mouth, his dick pulsing with every flick of her tongue. “Fuck, Joyce-” he panted, breathless and sated. “Kiss me.”

She let him pull her to her feet and captured his mouth with hers. 

For the rest of the night, they would wake each other up and reach for one another; needing to tame the beast that they had let wild. It only came back stronger each time. She was tangled up in him, literally and figuratively.

Joyce resigned herself to always needing Hopper - needing the way he took care of her, the way he seemed to know her inside and out. 

And she knew she wouldn’t be able to wait for another week to pass to have him again.

With moonlight pouring into their room, she gathered the courage to say what was on her mind. “I want to see you again,” she whispered against his lips. “But I don’t want to wait until Friday.”

That piqued his interest. “What are you proposing?”

“One night in the next couple of days, I want you to come over while Lonnie is at work,” she said between kisses down his jaw. “And take me.”

“It’s a date.”