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As Joyce stepped out of the shower, the chilled winter air kissed her skin. There was a crack in the top corner of the bathroom ceiling that she and Hopper had intended to fix last Monday. However, with busy work schedules and the kids growing dependency to remain indoors during the grueling winter vacation, the task had been put on hold.
That was a problem for tomorrow, though, as she focused on spending the day with some sparse cleaning around the house.
Her fingers moved to drop the striped towel wrapped around her chest, and as she let it fall to the floor, her eyes quickly caught sight of a small spot that stood out amongst her fair skin. Was it a mole of some kind? She couldn’t tell. Although, the pinkish hue of the spot seemed to register as a scar. The heat of the shower must have made it red.
Ignoring it for the time being, Joyce began to redress. Once she began clipping her bra with her arms drawn behind her back, she peered down. Silvery stretch marks slithered across her hip, and she turned the other way to spot a few more on the other side there as well. Joyce sighed; clipping the garment together before wiping down the mirror to gain a better look.
Of course, after giving birth to two children, it was no surprise that her body had stretch marks. However, it was the size and scale that threw her off balance. Never had she quite realized how much her body had changed over the years. Gazing in the mirror it became apparent that it had changed a lot. She sifted another hand downward and cringed at the slight handful she was able to grab from her thighs; angry tears prickled her eyes.
Joyce didn’t quite understand what made it different this time- as she always sort of felt put off when it came to her own body. Maybe it was stress? Still, her hope for a productive day was effectively squashed by the reminder of the passing years written across her skin. Those damn stretch marks.
━━━
Some minutes later, when she emerged out of the bathroom with freshly blow-dried hair, it was no surprise that Hopper was still passed out on his stomach. It was nearly noon. She chuckled to herself, walking towards their dresser to find an outfit. Suddenly, the drawer opened with a tremoring clatter. Joyce cursed.
At the muffled groan sounded from behind her, Hopper turned over towards the noise- eyes crinkling open.
“Sorry,” she apologized, pulling on a pair of jeans. “Go back to sleep.”
He stretched. “‘S okay. I’m up.”
His eyes scanned her half-dressed appearance as she tousled around the drawer to find the top she was looking for: clearly getting ready for the day. Once the item was retrieved, Joyce turned back around to the sight of his eyes lasered in on her freckled chest as she buttoned her top.
Well, it seemed he had only one idea on his mind. It never mattered whether she was getting ready or not. Eyeing her watch, she padded over to her nightstand to retrieve it.
“Why don’t you get back into bed….” his voice had that unmistakable grumble; having the complete power to render her knees weak. ``’n we can finish what we were doin’ last night.”
However, instead of jumping back into bed with him- as she would do most Sunday mornings- Joyce felt her stomach sink. After what she saw in that bathroom reflection, she didn’t feel in the mood. Besides, the kid’s laundry wasn’t going to wash itself.
“Hop,” she began. “I can’t. There's cleaning I need to do today.”
Whether it was the edge to her voice, her furrowed brows, or the vulnerable glimmer in her wide eyes, he knew something was wrong immediately. Damn it. He knew her too well.
“Joyce.” his voice dropped low; her name firm on his lips. “What’s wrong?”
With a wave of her arms, she dismissed his concern. “I’m fine.”
Hopper scoffed, moving closer. “No, you’re not, Joyce. Sit down.”
His hand moved forward to clasp her small wrist with gentle fingers. As she peered down at his blue gaze, she knew fighting against him would be pointless. The look of deep concern written across his features made her pause; she didn’t have any resolve to keep dismissing him anyways.
“What’s wrong?” He repeated, voice even firmer than before.
With a sigh, Joyce finally sat down on the bed as she stammered to find the right words. “It’s just that I…”
Trying again, she flimsily gestured to herself. “It’s this.”
Hopper stared back, confused, before she spoke again once more, avoiding eye contact. “It’s my body…. It’s um, changed.” Her voice was small, quiet.
Pausing a second to allow her to get the words out- Hopper shook his head before pulling her forward, hand gripping her waist.
A soft kiss was placed between her neck and ear. “You’re beautiful Joyce.”
She smiled softly, although, the sadness still visible in her eyes told a different story. Hopper sighed, pulling her into his lap on the bed. “C’mere…”
Giggling, Joyce wrapped her arms around him, feeling the warm security of his large frame tether her to the present. With a groan, he buried his head in her neck to savor the scent of the rare cedarwood body butter she would utilize during the winter months.
Despite the warm giddiness that fluttered in her chest, a similar feeling that Joyce has always felt within his presence since they were teens, the feeling of her thighs filling the palm of her hand creeped its way into her mind. Hopper noticed her smile fade immediately.
“Hey, look at me.”
His hand cupped her cheek, eyes gazing intently. She swallowed back tears that threatened to spill over.
“You don’t need to worry, Joyce. Even if your body has changed, it makes no difference to me- and to be honest….” he suddenly pulled her onto his lap with her legs splayed on either of his thighs. She yelped at the rapid movement, biting back a smile.
“... to be honest,” Hopper continued, “you haven’t aged a day since the first time we met.”
Joyce rolled her eyes, smiling widely now. “Hop, that was years ago.”
He huffed out a laugh, massaging her tiny waist- eyes flickering down to her cleavage. “Exactly my point. You look just as beautiful as the first day I saw you next to your locker.”
His sweet words made a blush rise to her cheeks as if she were seventeen again. She reached down to meet his lips in a deep kiss. He groaned into her mouth, his beard scratching pleasantly against her face.
“Show me…” Hopper suddenly murmured against her mouth. Joyce pulled back, confused.
“What…?”
He kissed a path to her ear. “Take off your shirt…” his lips met her skin once more. “.... and show me what’s been botherin’ you.”
Joyce felt her cheeks warm immediately. Was it embarrassment? Was it nervousness? Or was it the way her stomach flipped at the sound of his voice? Still, she felt herself pressing forward, unbuttoning her brown flannel with stuttering fingertips. It wasn’t as if he had never seen her naked. That was a cherished activity that only he got to indulge in almost every night. It was the fact that she was presenting herself bare after acquainting herself with the unwanted scars left across her skin. Even despite his reassurance, her hands were still shaking.
“Good.” He praised. She swallowed; his arm moved to his right. “Lay down.”
As she dismounted from his thighs and crawled over to her side of the bed, Joyce’s nerves still wouldn’t quit. However, the minute she reclined against the mattress, and hovered above her, every lingering thought was vacant from her mind. She gazed up at him with soft, adorning eyes.
Hopper appreciatively looked her up and down to the sight of her cheeks flushed pink. Clearly, he was savoring the view below him, and she smiled softly at the thought. He cupped her breasts in his large palms. Her intake of breath trembled.
“Oh, please tell me you don’t have a problem with these...”
She glanced down to the sight of her cleavage overflowing from his hands. Joyce blushed even more so, giggling.
“No, uhm no not exactly.” Joyce paused. “Though, Lonnie did tell me one time that he um… he wished they were uhm, perkier.”
Hopper stopped, and she was immediately met with the sight of furrowed, angry brows in disbelief.
“You’re kidding, right? That son of a bitch. He didn’t know what he had, because goddamn Joyce," His fingertips traced her nipples under her bra and Joyce felt herself arching perfectly into his touch.
"This is damn fine craftsmanship right here.” Hopper smirked.
She giggled underneath him, nose crinkling. With that, he stooped his head lower to place two, molten hot kisses: one on each freckled breast. It was so methodic, so much care was put into his movements, that she began to feel herself ache from the tenderness.
“Seriously though Joyce, what’s been bothering you?”
She shifted uncomfortably for a second. “Uhm. There’s a scar right…” her hands flew down to unbutton her jeans, but his hands came up to replace hers.
Joyce relented before nodding in his direction. He smiled, before lowering her pants down and off her legs.
Her arm moved down the smooth plane of her stomach to point at the small battle wound that she had identified earlier in the bathroom; it’s color now resembling a bleak brown. “I have a scar right here.”
With warm hands, Hopper encompassed her small frame and peered down at the tiny spot. He pressed his lips soothingly to where her skin puckered over from the old wound. She hummed in contentment; the sight of his gentle touch drizzled over her like the soft shower of spring rain.
Joyce gestured to the stretch marks peaking above her white cotton panties, and she moved the hem aside; cringing as the striped patterns came into view. Ever so slowly, he nuzzled her hip before kissing the soft flesh gently.
It was sweet, healing even, to watch him treat her scars and blemishes with such care.
Or rather, to worship her the way she deserved.
On that same hip just below, he eyed the tiny, inked butterfly etched into her skin, and he pecked the daintily winged tattoo with a tiny growl; she giggled once again.
“Beautiful,” he murmured into her skin, and she gasped at the vibration. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” Hopper moved to the other thigh, preforming the same delicate treatment, and Joyce felt herself relax further into the fluffy pillows.
As he moved down the expanse of her porcelain skin, placing kisses in his path, her body naturally arched into his touch. She felt so appreciated and loved like she never had before.
With Lonnie, the sex was great when they were young, but as the years passed, he noticed the subtle changes upon her body- shining a crude light onto such intimate details with drunken slurs. Soon, the hands that had been for caressing became something much worse. It had left her with scars; not only physically, but mentally most of all. Bob was sweet, but rather too sweet to offer a perfect sense of comfortability such as this. Within the palm of his own hands, the act would be too clumsy and not nearly as intimate and sensual as what she was receiving right then.
Hopper had always been different. He had been by her side through the thick and the thin, and offered the perfect reassurance, protection, and love she had been searching for. Even with the dizzying worship and adoration that he was offering right then, it couldn’t even compare to the way he made her feel every hour of the day.
Once he reached her thighs, Joyce felt the previous aches of insecure panic melt away with each press of his lips against her fair skin.
He popped his head up. “You okay?”
She just smiled, caressing his face softly. “Hmm, one more thing though…”
“I’m all ears.”
“My thighs.”
“What about them?” He massaged the soft skin, eyeing the way it felt plush between his fingers.
“They look hot to me.”
Joyce chuckled at his bluntness. “I don’t know, they always seemed on the larger side since I was young….”. She bit her lip “I-I don’t know.”
Hopper’s brows creased briefly. “Yeah, I don’t know what you mean Joyce. They’re definitely not fat if that’s what you’re gettin’ at.”
She blushed, nodding warily. He could tell she didn’t fully buy it.
With a free hand, he laced her fingertips with his. “Look at me.”
Joyce met his soft eyes and smiled softly at the sweet yet serious glimmer she was met with.
“Don’t ever feel like you aren’t enough for me. Your body is perfect.”
Unable to fully accept the complement, she stammered a protest. “I- I don’t-”
“No,” he interrupted, “You’re stunning. I love the way you are, Joyce…always have.”
It was at those last words that the weight set upon her shoulders finally lifted- the mirth dancing within his gaze as proof.
Hopper moved to hover over her again; lips softly brushing hers in a ghost of a kiss. “You’re all mine. Just mine to touch….”
Leaning closer to her ear he whispered finally, “... and mine to fuck.”
She blushed profusely, biting her lip as butterflies swarmed deep in her belly. Hopper pulled back, taking pleasure in the way she squirmed underneath him and reached forward to softly graze a thumb over her warm cheek.
“Better?”
She nodded, smiling radiantly. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
They met halfway in a deep kiss, parting just in time for Joyce to reach behind her back to unclasp her bra. Hopper’s eyes glimmered to the sight of her breasts unveiling before him, and she had to bite back another smile from forming.
Yeah, there was no doubt. He loved her completely: both perfections and scars included.