losttheright | (no subject)

"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."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.