losttheright | (no subject)

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jim hopper

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"This is me," Molly says with an excessive little flourish towards the building in question, smiling as she does so. She feels good already, she realizes. Better than she did when she first went out tonight, and definitely better than she usually expects to in the stretch of days leading up to the particular anniversary that's closing in on her. Unless things go completely wrong when they get inside, which she doubts they will, that's only going to continue. They got stuck under mistletoe together once, and it was a good kiss. Not being forced into it or surrounded by strangers this time, both of them aware of what they're here for, she thinks they can do even better.

Really, she ought to be direct like this more often. It tends to have good results. That sort of confidence just doesn't come as easily for her as it used to, though, just one more reason why this feels really fucking refreshing.

Fishing her keys out of her purse, she leads him into the building and towards the elevator. "It's not much, but I'm guessing that won't be a problem."

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"I live in the place with all the ghosts," Hopper answers with a snort, waiting for the elevator doors to open before he steps up closer behind Molly, one hand slipping around to rest at her waist. The door open and he steps inside with her, pressed against her for a moment before he uses the hands on her waist to turn her so she's facing him.

"So as long as one of them isn't gonna pop up and interrupt us, I'll say it's an improvement."

Not that he really believes in the ghosts. The stories are interesting, but he's never seen any of them himself.

"No ghosts," Molly says with a shake of her head, smiling at the sensation of his hands on her waist as she faces him. "At least, not that I've seen." She's probably the closest they have to one, a living dead girl, but that's a dark and unnecessary line of thought for a time like this. Eventually, she'd tell him, if he asked, the fact of her being dead back home not something she's especially forthcoming about but not something she tries to hide, either. Tonight, though, isn't about that. Tonight, she just wants to feel fucking good for a little while, and this is already a good start.

Her arms lift to drape over his shoulders, and she thinks again that this was the best idea she's had in a long time. "So if that's your dealbreaker, I think we're in good shape."

"I didn't say it'd be a deal break," he answers with a grin, then dips his head so he can kiss her. The elevator isn't the proper place to start something like this, but she's beautiful and she wants him, and he figures if he keeps it strictly to a kiss until they're actually inside her place, they're in the clear.

If anyone has a problem with it, he can remind them he's the law, so he can kiss a pretty lady in an elevator if he wants to. No one's going to come and arrest him for that.

Even knowing perfectly well what they came back to her apartment for, Molly still smiles a little into it when he kisses her. This really is the best possible way her night could have gone. Had she not run into him, had he not been interested when she essentially propositioned him, she's sure she could have figured something else out. But at a time like this more than any other, it's good to be with someone she trusts, someone who knows about what happened to her and thus won't be scared off by it, a concern she's had to carry with her for years now. Really, it's no wonder that she doesn't have the same confidence or get laid as much as she used to.

Tonight, though, she has every intention of doing exactly that. While she's mindful that they're in an elevator that anyone else could get onto before they reach her floor, she's also never been particularly modest, and anyway, it's not like they're doing anything more than kissing. Still, she has every intention of getting to that soon enough, and she's not about to pretend otherwise.

"Christ, you're gorgeous," Hopper murmurs against Molly's mouth, then lets his lips slide off to the side to find the edge of her jaw. He lifts one hand to tilt her head back gently, his thumb against the underside of her throat. With someone else, he might be a little more rough, but he knows what she's been through and so his touch is light enough that she can pull out of it easily if she wants.

He kisses her jaw, then the skin just under her ear, letting her guide him more than anything.

And when the elevator dings and the doors slide open again, he pulls back enough that she can see him grin.

No matter how long it may have been, no matter how out of practice she may be, this is still instinctive. She lets her head tip back at his encouragement, a shallow breath in her throat, her fingers pushing up into his hair. It's short-lived, of course, as she knew it would be, but the slight pressure of his mouth and his fingers is still welcome, a spark of electricity that feels like waking up after having been asleep. Her head may not quite be clear yet, but that's for the best anyway. There are still things that should probably said, boundaries that should be established. She doubts he'd cross them anyway, and she's really not half as skittish as she used to be, but she is more careful.

That's part of why she invited him home with her anyway. She doesn't trust easily with this sort of thing, but she already trusts him. The hard part is already out of the way. All that's really left is to enjoy herself.

Molly huffs out a quiet laugh when the elevator doors open, a little relieved that at least there's no one on the other side of them. It isn't that she cares, but still, this is easier. "There you go with the flattery again," she teases, deliberately coy as she steps away from him and into the hallway, walking backwards a few steps in the direction of her apartment. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get laid."

"Can you blame me?" he asks, the corner of his mouth hitching up in a grin as he stays where he is for a moment, framed in the open doors of the elevator so he can watch her walk backwards away from him. There's something fun in this, light and easy, the teasing and the coy flirtation. It makes him feel like all the shit from his life has been wiped away. At least the evening, anyway, and that's all he needs.

Finally, he comes down the hall after her, not predatory, but without looking away. Without losing that grin. He doesn't know which apartment is hers, so he waits until Molly is unlocking the door, then he steps up close behind her. His fingers curl under the curtain of her hair and he moves it aside, off her shoulder, so he can press his mouth to the skin just above the collar of her shirt.

Molly pretends to consider his question for a moment, but it isn't an act that holds up for long. She is, after all, the one who invited him here and in no uncertain terms. It would be impossible as hell to blame him for trying to get laid when that was the plan in the first place. Still, she might as well have a little fun with this part of things, too, enjoying the confidence that comes with someone whom she trusts wanting to sleep with her. It's a good feeling, and rarer than she'd like it to be.

"I guess not," she says, teasing, as he presses his mouth to her skin, her head tipping a little to the side on instinct. She gets the door unlocked a moment later and starts inside, flipping the lightswitch on her way in. "Well, here we are."

The glance Hopper gives the apartment is more cursory than anything, not to dismiss any of Molly's life, only because they have what he thinks is a more pressing matter. The apartment will still be here later.

So will Molly, but he doesn't want to keep her waiting.

"Here we are," he agrees, taking care to lock the door behind them. A small gesture, because Hopper isn't worried about anyone coming in, and is of the mind he can make that take care of any issue, but he has to expect Molly feels more secure with her door locked.

Once it's locked, though, he moves toward her again, one big hand at her waist, fingers curling over the edge of her hip, the other sliding up to cup her jaw. He ducks his head to kiss her, pulling her against him, more forward than he'd been in the elevator.

Molly isn't particularly concerned with the specifics of her apartment either, only the privacy that being behind a closed door affords. She's not particularly shy in public, but still, there's only so far they can really go while in an elevator with every chance of being interrupted. The way he kisses her and pulls her close, she doesn't think she's the only one who feels that way. With his broad hand at her waist, she moves in easily, pressing close against him, one hand curling around his shoulder. Already, she wants to know what it would feel like to have him touch her without layers of clothes between them, but for all that she's beyond pleased with the fact that they're apparently on the same page as far as getting right to it is concerned, she isn't in that much of a hurry.

As far as actually making it to her bedroom goes, she'd put the odds at about even.

With her free hand, she drops her purse on the floor, a problem she can deal with later. For the moment, there are far more pressing concerns at hand.

He hears the drop of her purse and laughs, low and pleased sounding, kissing the edge of her mouth, then the sharp line of her jaw and the column of her throat. They're moving, although he isn't entirely sure where it is they're going to end up. All the apartments are more or less the same in terms of layout and he figures they'll find their way where they want to go eventually.

It's not cool enough out yet that either of them are wearing coats and Hopper likes the lack of layers between them, even if he thinks there are still too many. He can already feel the warmth of Molly's skin, even before he pushes his hand up under the hem of her shirt to curve over her side.

His hand feels like she would have expected it to, broad and rough against the bare curve of her waist. Molly considers fleetingly that it's been a long time, too long, since anyone else touched her like this, then quickly moves on to considering how much she wants to find out how it feels to have him touch the rest of her. She wants to be utterly incapable of thinking about what she went out tonight to try to ignore. And while she's not really the competitive type, and definitely not looking for anything more here than just a good night of sex, part of her wants to show him a better time than he had earlier, too, and not just in that they won't be interrupted by anyone's fucking parents.

It's a nice little personal challenge for herself. Nice, too, to feel confident enough for a change to think she could manage it.

"Privacy's fucking great, isn't it?" she asks with a low, throaty laugh, her head tipped back to leave her neck exposed for him as his mouth moves lower.

"Thank god you don't live with your parents," Hopper agrees with a rumbling of laughter, pressing another kiss to Molly's mouth. She tastes so good, her lips warm and full, and her skin is warm, too. He wants to get her undressed more than anything right now and both his hands slide over her waist and then push up, the material lifting out of the way.

"Here," he says, laughing again, pulling back a little to help her out of her shirt. Then he begins on the buttons of his flannel, popping them quickly so he can strip out of the long sleeved shirt, then his t-shirt as well.

Molly lets out a breathless huff of a laugh as he helps tug her shirt over her head, discarding it somewhere on the floor to track down later. At least she's not quite as self-conscious as she used to be, being nearly topless in front of someone she hasn't slept with before, the scars from her assault on full display. He knows what happened to her; there's no sense in dwelling on it now. At least, too, she had the good sense to put on a cute bra before she went out tonight, something lacy and properly fitted, even if she doesn't intend to stay in it for long. Figuring she might as well get that out of the way, too, she reaches behind her to fiddle with the clasp while he undoes the buttons of his shirt, unhooking it and then shrugging that off, too, tossing it somewhere in the general direction of her shirt.

It's probably not the fastest she's ever gotten half-naked after bringing someone home with her, but it might well be close to it. They both know what they're here for, though, and she doesn't see any need to adopt some pretense of modesty or take it slow just for the sake of it. She'd rather get right to the point. "No parents, no roommates," she confirms, grinning slyly as he pulls his t-shirt off, then stepping closer again as she continues speaking. "Some neighbors, but they can mind their own fucking business." Without waiting for a response, she steps in close again, hands on his shoulders as she kisses him.

"You have plans on being loud enough for them to hear?" he asks, grinning as he discards his t-shirt on the ground, shaking it off his arm. He's looking at her, really looking, taking in her eyes, the sly curve of her smile, then her incredible body, the gorgeous expanse of her pale skin.

There are scars. He had known there would be. But Hopper was in Vietnam, he has his own scars, too. They don't make her any less beautiful, there is no question of that, and he smooths his hands down her shoulders as they kiss, falling to her waist. Her breasts are pressed against his chest, the weight of them warm against him.

"Guess I better make sure you have reason to be that loud, huh?" he asks against her mouth, grinning as he nips at her full lower lip.

"Well, thin walls," Molly says with a too-casual shrug, hissing in a pleased breath at the slight bite of his teeth against her lower lip. For a long time — now in itself a long time ago — she wasn't comfortable with even this much, physical intimacy and so much of what it involves taking her back to that night now seven years ago. Now, it's somewhere in the back of her head, as that awareness is, especially at this time of year, but it doesn't have any place in her present. He looks at her, touches her, like he wants her, and it only serves to make her want even more. It's electric, both the feeling of being desired and his hands on her skin, his chest pressed to hers, and she thinks she goddamn well deserves that at a time like this.

"But I don't know," she adds, smiling into it as she pauses to kiss him again, eyes bright and teasing. "We'll have to see what you can do."

He likes that. Specifically, he likes it in Molly, but Hopper's always been a sucker for a woman who can give him shit. It's sexy as hell, especially when he's always so much bigger than that are and even though he'd never use his size to be an asshole about anything, there's the knowledge that he could. And she's giving him a hard time anyway.

"Better bring my A game," he says as he runs one hand over her torso, up from her slim waist, over the swell of her breast. His mouth travels from hers at the same time, pressing kisses against her jaw, then the long line of her throat, her shoulder.

"Or maybe I'll be the loud one," he teases with a laugh, his thumb brushing her nipple as he speaks. "And it's your A game we're going to see tonight."

"Oh, I'd never bring anything less," Molly says with a sly grin, though her bravado is diminished slightly by the audible catch in her breath when his thumb brushes her nipple. It's been a good while since she's been touched by anyone except herself, and as familiar as all of this is to her, as rote as it could be, it's never lost its appeal. Even when she couldn't physically bring herself to be intimate with anyone, it wasn't for lack of interest. She sure as hell can now, though, and while it's not just about proving a point, at a time like this, it does feel like a victory, like not letting the man who would have killed her win.

She likes that Hopper seems about as far from him as it's possible to get, too — a different build, rugged rather than polished and carefully manicured, clearly willing to have a little fun with this. It's the most she could have asked for, aside from the good sex that she feels confident enough is going to happen. "Come on," she says, hooking her fingers in his belt loops to tug him with her in the direction of the hallway. "Bedroom."

"Yes, ma'am," he answers with a grin, letting her tug him along down the hall. He'd have to be some sort of idiot to get this far and then refuse, although he's sure there are some idiots out there who would.

Their loss. His gain.

Her apartment is nice, nicer than his anyway, probably because he's shit at decorating or even really thinking about it. They're not here for the apartment, though, and once they're in the bedroom he puts his hands on her hips again from behind, pressing a kiss to her smooth shoulder, his hands sliding down her belly, toward her thighs.

If he were here under any other circumstances, Molly would probably play the good host, show him around, offer him a drink. She probably could have done that anyway, having not really been in any kind of a hurry, but there hadn't seemed to be a real need, and he doesn't seem to mind. They both know why he's here, after all, and she's never really seen the sense in playing coy or feigning some kind of shy self-consciousness about wanting to get laid. She'd rather get right to the point.

The more he has his hands on her, the more eager she is in turn, the more she thinks this was definitely the right course of action. She leans back into him, a silent invitation for him to continue, turning her head just enough to look back over her shoulder at him. "This," she says, her voice throaty and contented, her breathing a little shallow, "was a really good idea."

"Really good," he agrees, pressing kisses to her shoulder, toward her throat, up along the line of her neck. Her skin is so warm under his mouth and he can taste the salt on her skin, enough that his tongue sweeps out briefly, tasting her.

He takes her by the hips, spinning her around again so they're facing, then drops his mouth to her upper chest, one hand on her breast. He presses a kiss to the fullness of her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple at the same time as they move toward the bed.

"You're so gorgeous," he breathes against her skin. "Jesus Christ."

It isn't that Molly doesn't know she's attractive. Her confidence these past several years may not have been what it once was, but all the same, she knows that she's good-looking. It's just that it's deeply fucking gratifying to hear, especially at a sound like this, the sound of his voice and his breath on her skin making her feel electric. This, she thinks, wasn't just a good idea; it's the best she's had in a long time.

"You're not so bad yourself," she replies, teasing but true. She wouldn't have invited him here in the first place if she thought otherwise. Sparing a brief glance over her shoulder as she walks backwards towards the bed, she says, "God, I can't wait to get your hands on me." To that end, she unfastens her jeans so they'll be easier to shimmy out of before she gets in bed.

It's not like Hopper hasn't had any luck with women. All his life he's done pretty well, something about the gruff way he speaks, the size of him just working for a lot of women in a way he's grateful for. All that, the dating around, one night stands, it had stopped with Diane. He'd never once gone behind her back, wouldn't dream of ever doing such a thing when he had loved her so much, but after the divorce, going back to the way things had been had just seemed easier.

So he's had good luck, but Molly really is incredible. She's confident and beautiful and she's tough as nails. She undoes her jeans and Hopper slides his hands down her hips, then into her jeans, over the incredible curve of his ass as he presses her down toward the mattress.

This, Molly thinks, is exactly why she wanted to go out tonight. Even before they've done much of anything, it makes her feel stunningly wanted to be touched like this, and that, in turn, makes her feel a little less fucking broken, like she so often could at times like this. She doesn't want to be what happened to her seven years ago, a perpetual victim and nothing more. This is something she gets to do for herself, and no one gets to stop her from enjoying that.

She hums approvingly as he eases her back towards the bed, clearly relishing the way he touches her until she shifts to get better situated on the mattress, slightly propped up on her elbows. Even without being quite as sure of herself as she used to, even with her jeans still not entirely off, she knows perfectly well that it's a damn good view.

Hopper doesn't immediately join Molly on the bed, instead looking at her for a moment before he tucks his fingers into the belt loops on her jeans and begins to tug them down her hips. Her skin is pale, smooth, and yes, marked with scars here and there, but no less beautiful for it.

Her jeans move down further and further and Hopper gets his knee on the mattress between her thighs so he can press a kiss to the smooth skin of her belly, just above the line of her underwear.

He's so hard already, he wants to get his own jeans off, but he knows how to do this properly. Take his time. Make her feel good, too.

She isn't really expecting otherwise, but Molly is still just a little relieved that he doesn't seem at all fazed by the scars she usually hides under clothing, that could all too easily ruin a mood. With Hopper not dwelling on them, she doesn't either, smiling instead, pleased and knowing, as he presses a kiss to her bare skin, looking, at least, as confident as she's ever been, barely dressed on the bed. It's been a while, really, since she felt this good. She wants to make the most of it.

"What, you like what you see?" she asks, coy and teasing. He obviously does.

"A gorgeous woman laid out in front of me on her bed wearing just her underwear?" Hopper asks, nuzzling against the soft skin of her belly before he lets his teeth graze slightly at her skin. One hand slides up then length of her body, his palm cupping her breast, feeling the perfect weight of it in his hand before he rubs his thumb across her nipple.

"Yeah," he says, then presses another kiss to her skin. His thumb brushes harder over her nipple, feeling it harden, pulling into a peak. "Yeah, I like what I see."

Then he slides back up the length of her to capture her mouth in another kiss, sinking into it, his lips parting against hers.

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