Before, After, & Forever

"in the lost myth of true love." | JOYCE

"Pay attention to the song." Hopper breathes the command in her ear, the heat from his mouth hitting her like a ton of bricks.

It's... difficult to breathe evenly, – to suck in a desperate gasp of air at all – let alone listen to the lyrics that filled the room with the way he was pressed against her. Joyce was nestled in his lap, her back flush to his broad, strong chest, and no desire to retreat. She was craving sk-to-skin, desperate to tear the nice dress shirt off his body. She wanted to watch his chestnut brown coat fall to the floor in a heap. Hell, she thinks she'd turn around and do it right then and there if he demanded it.

Surely no one would notice.

They were in an overly crowded music hall that was dripping with the most intense sexual energy without Hopper's hands on her bare skin. It was dark, with only a few areas lit by a faint warm glow of light that only encouraged the heady mood. There was a thick fog that practically engulfed the theater, making it strenuous to try and make out what each person around them was doing. She couldn't care less about searching, but for all she knew, she was sure people were already fucking around them.

Not a single person was paying them a single speck of attention.

I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus
when her body was found

I'd be the choice-less hope in grief
that drove him underground

He was stroking his rough fingers over the soft skin of her outer thigh. When his hand reaches the top of her thigh, he gives her leg a possessive squeeze that has his short nails biting deep into her skin. The act made her tremble and a breathless moan fell from her lips.

Joyce loved when he gripped her flesh hard enough that delicious bruises graced the expanse of her body. She could wake up the next morning and with the first glimpse of her naked skin in the mirror see patches of pale purple and black. The thought made her nearly moan aloud. Well, the wild fantasies running rampant in her mind and the way he was touching her.

I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee
that made him turn around,

and I'd be the immediate forgiveness
In Eurydice.

"I can feel how wet you are." His whisper is thick and hot in her ear, and she's arching in response. That's when he throws his other arm around her lower half to pin her hips in place. His arm was so big and brawny and... fuck. Hopper's bicep – alone – could practically encase her torso.

Her eyes narrow down to his wandering hand like a Wanton woman. She can't stop watching as his hand drags torturously over the inside of her thigh. Rough, but tender stroke after stroke over her sensitive skin. Goddamnit, she wanted to scream at him to touch her.

She tips her head back against his shoulder to draw her breath against the shell of his ear.  "You're so fucking big." Joyce whimpers in the quietest voice she can muster. "Now do something about it." That's when his erection is making itself more prominent against her ass. She rolled back against his cock, inching her dress up the slightest bit more until the curve of her ass was bared against his slacks. She was going to make a mess of his pants...

She's so goddamn hot that she can't tell if it's the crowds or her arousal.

Imagine being loved by me

The words penetrate her, and she's grateful for how loud the hall is because she moans as she grinds herself back on his cock. Joyce is being shameless, but she doesn't give a shit. It feels good to be so fucking bad with him. It feels good to roll herself against his throbbing erection for the delicious friction against her bare pussy.