Under a table, somewhere in public? Like.. a diner? WWait, oh my gosh. You were totally thinking about those booths they had at Scoops, weren't you? [ a short-ish pause ] Do you remember if Scoops Ahoy is a chain..?
That might have been the goal sometimes. Not always! But sometimes it was fun testing your patience, yeah. You would always it was like there was just something different about it that I really liked.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Me? A vampire? Hahaha! Could you imagine? That would be SO crazy! Luckily I'm absolutely NOT a vampire. I mean, they're definitely not even real, hahaha!
If I never step foot in a Scoops Ahoy again that'd be too soon. But Scoops Ahoy-like booth, you're on.
Should I ask you how to know when that's what you want? I think sometimes I know. But just in case.
Pretty sure vampires aren't real and with that answer suddenly even I'm kinda wondering, Wheeler. Wild that you'd be the bloodsucker when I'm the one that got mauled by faceless bats.
Ohh, fine. Good thing I didn't get my hopes up for a cup of Nautical Neapolitan with extra hot fudge to share with you after, if we don't get caught. :c
[ she's joking.
she's probably joking. ]
You're asking me to ruin the mystery right now, you know that? But if I'm still moving on you way too slow by the time you've gone from "you're being such a brat" to "quit being such a brat" to digging your heels into the mattress and holding my hips really tight and saying my name in that voice that's usually what I'm gunning for.
It would be pretty ironic, wouldn't it? If I was actually a vampire. Which I'm not. I like kissing and biting your neck in a very normal way.
I was thinking... dinner. We could pick a place that has ice cream, if that does it for you.
( it might help with the staying quiet part, if she's got something to put in her mouth? )
Not ruin it. Just a hint. Help me along, that's all. Because gotta say, trying to think things out when you're riding me? Not really a good time.
As long as no blood is drawn I guess I don't have anything on you. Totally normal and not blood sucking sort of way it is. I like your neck, too, I do. I just end up biting you different places. ( he's more of an inner thigh biter. he left a pretty bad hickey on her breast once. Steve is pretty sure play biting her ass as she was reading in bed doesn't count. )
What's wrong with mauled? Felt like a mauling. Definitely.
The idea is a little intimidating, but as long as it's somewhere at least an hour away from Hawkins, I'm game to try. And yes, it really does do something for me. I love ice cream! Especially when it's victory ice cream.
I'd say you've done alright with that on pure instinct so far, but yeah, there's your hint.
No blood, only love bites and hickeys. Under the collar! Robin was so huffy about the one that was juuust a bit too high up, and stuck around for what- two days? So I'll try to be more careful. 😇
Exactly. :c I still get scared when I think about it sometimes. But we don't actually need to ban it, making jokes about it sometimes will probably help me get over it more than just not talking about it at all.
Deal. I'll find a place, we can drive there, and you can wear a skirt to dinner. That's not cheating, it's dressing for success.
She just worries, that's all. She didn't realize it was a hickey at first, and then when she figured it out she was embarrassed. ( and no doubt accidentally daydreaming about Nancy Wheeler going vamp-attack on his throat, which was awkward when Nancy showed up shortly after. ) Now that she knows you're a hickey monster, it'll be fine. Leave them wherever you want.
Oh. ( that makes... complete sense, actually. and his gut instinct is to reassure we don't have to talk about it, but, maybe that's not the right call, either. ) It's easier, sometimes. To make jokes about it. I don't know why. But I don't have to make them to you, if it isn't easier. For you, I mean.
Perfect. And I might have one in mind already. The skirt, not the restaurant. That's all you. Actually... I might have a dress in mind instead.
Stop!! Was it really that bad? Oh no, I actually feel a little bad now. For scaring Robin, not for the hickey. Because I'm not a monster, I'm an enthusiast. I'm enthusiastic about kissing you like crazy, and leaving you reminders that you're all mine, and I'm all yours. And if other people happen to be made aware of that by those hickeys too, then... that's just a happy accident.
Oh, I mean... It makes sense, why it could help. It's the exact opposite of the alternative option, right? And it's okay, I promise. It's not really about making jokes as much as it's certain words, I guess? I know it's crazy, I'm not about to seriously ask you to limit your vocabulary or anything. Levity helps you, just the same as hugging you a little tighter sometimes helps me. But I didn't mean to make things so serious like that.
[ steve was mauled, and eddie was mauled. there's ..yknow, obvious differences, but words are powerful, right? still- ]
Obviously the real takeaway here is that the only away you're allowed to be mauled ever again is by me. And my hickey monster tendencies.
A dress, huh? Okay. That's... no notes, great plan, completely support that.
It wasn't that bad! She's just gets weird when she thinks I'm banged up. Once she gave me the 3rd degree about a bruise on my forearm. We're talkin' a fifteen minute nonstop Q&A to know if something was wrong or if I got in a fight or if some kind of creepy monster did it or maybe I had some insane undiscovered blood disease until I coughed up that I just ran into a doorknob in the dark. ( such is having a friend that cares about his welfare. and Robin has done a lot of daydreaming about kisses (she tells him about them sometimes, and occasionally with way too many details), but she hasn't actually kissed anyone.
and never given anyone a hickey, so awkwardly, it was the last possible thought when she saw him with a very obvious bruise on his neck.
maybe he's told Nancy too much here........ oops. Robin may just murder him for this one and then they won't have to worry about scaring her with especially voracious hickeys! )
Delightful goddamn accident, if you ask me. Though for me, not an accident. 100% on purpose. Really like seeing marks I leave on you. Almost as much as I like knowing somebody might see them and wonder who the lucky bastard is that left it there.
We can be serious. If you don't like that word I can not use that word. All right? I like knowing. That was... you can always tell me. That was good.
And I'm good with you being the only one to ever maul me ever again, too. Deal.
Did she really? That's so sweet. Funny, but sweet. It also explains why she was talking directly to my mouth sometimes that week. Which was pretty noticeable because some days she almost completely avoids eye contact? Not in a rude way, but it's like her brain is too busy to focus. [ she kinda still stares at her mouth, sometimes, now that she thinks about it. but the thought begins and ends there because she's not reading too much into it!! ] But she really does care about you so much. And I like that she doesn't try to downplay it, that's the main thing.
If you want people to see the marks you give me, you might want to reconsider putting the majority of them all over my thighs. Although keep putting them there forever, because it's great, love that.
Yeah? Alright. Thank you.
[ oooooohh haha she's falling so hard all over again, sheesh. she's also realizing how jonathan only ever made it easier to hold onto her bad habit of immediately backtracking, after a moment of vulnerability. he was always so... weird about it, when she was that honest about something. so why risk causing a weird moment, when there doesn't need to be one?]
Yeah, well. Nancy Wheeler giving out hickeys is a revelation. Seriously, that's what she said about it. "This is a revelation." I'm not even sure what she meant by that, but, she said it.
I know she does. Not a ton to look back and be grateful for, working at Scoops. Sucked ass, actually. But I'd do it again, a hundred times, if I had to. Finding her was worth driving home smelling like milk wearing the world's stupidest shorts.
Hey, hold on. Just because most of them are on your thighs, doesn't mean I don't leave them on your neck. I'm equal opportunity, here.
Of course. If it helps then I'll do it. ( last time around, guessing at what would help each other only worked some of the time. if Nancy can articulate what upsets her, why wouldn't he listen? ) Or, I'll try, anyway. You get a free tit punch if I forget.
I'm not sure why she would be so surprised by that? Unless it was just because she didn't actually have a reason to think about it until then. She was probably just being dramatic.
Hey, those shorts were not stu Okay, maybe they were a little stupid. But you always look good in blue, and that includes when it comes in the form of a sailor uniform.
Oh, trust me, I know you do. I'm not sure my mom ever believed the "I accidentally burned myself with my curling iron" excuse, but I've used it so many times now that I think even my dad is starting to catch on.
I'm not going to tit punch you. I would punch you in the shoulder, maybe.
[ or pout in that way that makes him panic a little. either one. probably the second one. ]
She was definitely being dramatic. ( Nancy, you've met Robin. right??? obviously she was being at least a little dramatic, it's who she is. )But c'mon. Sweet little Nancy Wheeler with the big blue eyes and slouchy sweaters is a hickey monster? I'd be surprised too, if I didn't already know.
That was the worst I've ever looked, thank you very much, but I can probably manage to wear blue that isn't nautically themed if you like it that much. ( because he's vain and will take the You look good in blue even if he abjectly refuses the idea he looked good as a little sailor boy. )
That bad? I could tone it down a little. Maybe. ( he's frankly a hickey monster in his own right, these days. it's just that getting to leave hickeys on Nancy again is a particularly delightful thrill. and maybe there's the tiniest bit of caveman brain in there that wants to mark her as absolutely claimed, no questions. is that so wrong? ...maybe, but it's clanging around in there somewhere. between how much he likes the noise Nancy makes at the pull of his teeth and how good hints of him look painted on her pale skin. )
She already knows I'm not "sweet little Nancy Wheeler". But maybe it's not so obvious that I'm not so sweet in that way too, I guess. Hopefully she's not too weirded out by it.
At the risk of recklessly feeding your ego, I'm not sure there's a color I don't like you in? But blue might be my favorite. Or green. No, blue, definitely blue.
You don't have to tone it down. I just need to remember whenever you leave a particularly noticeable one on my neck, so I don't accidentally waltz down to breakfast in the morning looking mildly debauched. I like when you leave those marks behind, though. In the moment, and after the fact. The ones on my thighs are always still so crazy sensitive the next morning, in a good way.
(weirded out is probably not the word, Nancy. but Steve can't really explain his bestie might be growing a huge gay crush on you, so, ) She knows you're a badass that can beat down faceless bats and blow a psychic asshole to kingdom come. That's not the same as knowing you get bitey when you're horny. It's different.
( damn steve, don't pull any punches there or anything!! )
How's it reckless? I do look good in green. And blue. I'm glad there's not one color that really ruins it for you, that's nice. You look good in every color I've seen you in, too. But you look good in nothing at all, so that doesn't surprise me.
Really? ( interesting thought. he can work with that thought. ) How good are we talking? Touch yourself remembering my mouth between your legs and my hands spreading you open sort of good, maybe?
[ shut up, she's not blushing the same way she always does when steve gets all matter-of-fact about sexy things, you're blushing the same wa- ]
It's reckless because I firmly believe that egos have limits! I really hope they have limits, at least. And what if yours is already at maximum capacity, and I give you the compliment that pushes it over the edge? The consequences could be seriously dire. Catastrophic!
[ ..... oh, wait. that's definitely another matter-of-fact sexy text, and she's over here trying to be goofy about it. and then he's sending more!! shit! ]
Yes, really. And yes, sometimes it's exactly like that. It's impossible to replicate what it feels like, or how it makes me feel, when you hold my thighs open wide, or down against my torso, or however you want me, but the hickeys They're basically little bruises, you know? So when they're somewhere on my body that's already sensitive, I don't even have to press into them all that much to get a particularly vivid reminder.
And what's the worst that could happen if somebody knows you like them? ( that's... not really what Nancy meant, but also, he feels like he has a point here. it can't be that bad, to tell somebody what you like about them. )
Good. I like knowing you think about me when you're fingering yourself. I think about you, even when there's no hickeys to help me along. They help, though, I get what you mean. I can remember you there better than anywhere else.
Steve Harrington, are you seriously fishing right now? Because it feels like you're fishing. Which is a little ridiculous, because I know for a fact, that you know for a fact, that I like you. Really, really like you. A lot. So much. The most.
[ more than like, but damnit, she won't text it before she says it. even if she's starting to hit a point where sometimes she wants to type it a hundred times and send it to him so bad she has to ditch her phone in favor of her diary. and there've been too many close calls at this point. ]
Of course I think about you. Actually recently I've been realizing that I'm not sure I ever really stopped thinking about you, in that way. And it's obviously more than that now, shush, that's not my point. I just know I never forgot what your hands feel like. On my hips, and my thighs, and in my hair, and on my breasts, and my ass, and do you even know how frustrating it is that it doesn't matter how many different angles I tried, or positions, or if I used two fingers or three, or what it's never felt as good as two of your fingers filling me up?
I'm just saying if you tell me I look good in green I'm not gonna get a big head about it. I already know that I look good in green. It just means I know that you like it, and I like knowing what you like. Especially when I'm the thing you like.
( which feels a little needy and overly exposed to admit, oops, awkward. it's just... look, he really does like reminders Nancy likes him. okay? things are good, they're more! !! than good!!! but things went from good to bad to bullshit, so fast he still feels stupid that he didn't see the signs before it was too late.
so it's nice. when she says it. when he doesn't have to guess, or wonder. that's all. )
I thought about you, too. Kind of made me feel like an asshole. ( and probably did not help in the letting go and moving on front, so he tried to stop. picked dates that were about as far from Nancy Wheeler as he could get, so no wires could get crossed. and it's not like it was a bad time. sex is good, getting off is even better. it just was never the same. didn't have that spark, that feeling, that something. electricity. and his head was great at reminding him of that whenever it was over. )
I think I kind of like that your fingers don't feel like mine. Because then no matter what you're going to think about me. Wish I was inside of you instead. Curling up inside you as you make those noises you make, grip your sheets like you gotta hold on for dear life. You'll get off but it won't be as good because I'm not there. I like being the only one that can really make you feel like that.
[ it's okay, because it turns out sometimes nancy needs that. not just when he's so honest it's a little intimidating, but reminders that this new steve wasn't interested in trying to play any parts, which in the past, always made it so easy for her to avoid the specific kind of vulnerability that comes with being honest about her feelings. she can be honest, brutally honest at times, with her options, but her emotions? not... so much. she's working on it. she's trying. and steve reminding her that she doesn't have to be shy about her big, fat, stupid, goofy crush on him helps. even if she does tease him about it. just a little. ]
Blue, green, red. That one awful orange-y color that I genuinely can't stand when it's on the hanger, but then you put it on and it's like... Okay, sure! I guess that's my favorite color today!
And I like you in nothing at all, too. Especially after I've left some of those marks we were just talking about.
It's funny.. I don't think I really ever felt like an asshole for it. Which probably does make me an asshole, huh? But it wasn't intentional, at first. Not for a long time, actually. I would just be thinking about things that made me feel good, and imagination would just... go there. Your hands, your mouth, your dick. Seems so obvious now, but it didn't at the time.
[ yeah, no, she was definitely an asshole. because it's true- she didn't try to think of steve when she touched herself, but she definitely didn't end up thinking about her boyfriend as much as she probably should have. and maybe she knew that she didn't just dream up this guy that knew how to touch her, but didn't feel like jon. but at the time it just felt- dirty. in a fun way.
so, yeah. asshole. ]
What?? But what if I need you, but you're at work? Or out, busy being a good friend? You're basically saying you're okay with me having bad orgasms sometimes. That's so mean. :c
Awful orange-y color, huh? Even if you don't mind it on, I'm thinking you should help me ditch that one, babe.
( he's not offended, not really. if anything this is the funniest compliment he has ever been given. he appreciates that Nancy thinks he can pull off something that is awful and orange-y. that said if he looks good in green why wouldn't he just wear green? that's easy. easy fix! )
You're not an asshole. ( it is truly difficult for Steve to conceptualize Nancy being an asshole, even if maybe the title is deserved, here. maybe they were both assholes, head and heart with someone else and not even brave enough to admit it to who they were with, or even to themselves. or maybe there's a better word for two people split apart by circumstance, with fringes of what they were left behind unresolved and unhappy. if there is, Steve doesn't know it. )
You were just... lonely. I get that. I don't know, maybe it's... no, it is fucked up. But I'm glad I made you feel better. Even if it wasn't really me.
( and he is very determined she'll never get so lonely she'll have to imagine somebody else when they're together!! they are never making it to seventeen months without touching each other, Steve would rather die first. )
Not bad orgasms. Just... not as good. Kinda like when you ask for white toast and get wheat. Yeah, it's sort of the same, you'll be fine. But the next time you get toast it's the kind you wanted that first time, and it's a million times better.
Part of me wholeheartedly agrees, but another part of me wonders if it's simply practical for you to own at least one shirt that runs zero risk of being stolen by me. Plus, you really do wear it well.
Oh my god?? That's still so mean! You KNOW how much I don't like wheat toast!
[ it makes her laugh though, considering the first few post-midnight breakfasts they shared included this exact topic of discussion. just... in a different way. ]
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WWait, oh my gosh. You were totally thinking about those booths they had at Scoops, weren't you? [ a short-ish pause ] Do you remember if Scoops Ahoy is a chain..?
That might have been the goal sometimes. Not always! But sometimes it was fun testing your patience, yeah. You would always
it was like
there was just something different about it that I really liked.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Me? A vampire? Hahaha! Could you imagine? That would be SO crazy!
Luckily I'm absolutely NOT a vampire.
I mean, they're definitely not even real, hahaha!
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Should I ask you how to know when that's what you want? I think sometimes I know. But just in case.
Pretty sure vampires aren't real and with that answer suddenly even I'm kinda wondering, Wheeler. Wild that you'd be the bloodsucker when I'm the one that got mauled by faceless bats.
1/2
[ she's joking.
she's probably joking. ]
You're asking me to ruin the mystery right now, you know that?
But if I'm still moving on you way too slow by the time you've gone from "you're being such a brat" to "quit being such a brat" to
digging your heels into the mattress and holding my hips really tight and saying my name in that voice
that's usually what I'm gunning for.
It would be pretty ironic, wouldn't it?
If I was actually a vampire.
Which I'm not.
I like kissing and biting your neck in a very normal way.
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Please.
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( it might help with the staying quiet part, if she's got something to put in her mouth? )
Not ruin it. Just a hint. Help me along, that's all. Because gotta say, trying to think things out when you're riding me? Not really a good time.
As long as no blood is drawn I guess I don't have anything on you. Totally normal and not blood sucking sort of way it is.
I like your neck, too, I do. I just end up biting you different places. ( he's more of an inner thigh biter. he left a pretty bad hickey on her breast once. Steve is pretty sure play biting her ass as she was reading in bed doesn't count. )
What's wrong with mauled? Felt like a mauling. Definitely.
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as long as it's somewhere at least an hour away from Hawkins, I'm game to try.
And yes, it really does do something for me. I love ice cream! Especially when it's victory ice cream.
I'd say you've done alright with that on pure instinct so far, but yeah, there's your hint.
No blood, only love bites and hickeys.
Under the collar!
Robin was so huffy about the one that was juuust a bit too high up, and stuck around for what- two days? So I'll try to be more careful.
😇
Exactly. :c
I still get scared when I think about it sometimes.
But we don't actually need to ban it, making jokes about it sometimes will probably help me get over it more than just not talking about it at all.
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She just worries, that's all. She didn't realize it was a hickey at first, and then when she figured it out she was embarrassed. ( and no doubt accidentally daydreaming about Nancy Wheeler going vamp-attack on his throat, which was awkward when Nancy showed up shortly after. ) Now that she knows you're a hickey monster, it'll be fine. Leave them wherever you want.
Oh. ( that makes... complete sense, actually. and his gut instinct is to reassure we don't have to talk about it, but, maybe that's not the right call, either. ) It's easier, sometimes. To make jokes about it. I don't know why. But I don't have to make them to you, if it isn't easier. For you, I mean.
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The skirt, not the restaurant. That's all you.
Actually... I might have a dress in mind instead.
Stop!! Was it really that bad? Oh no, I actually feel a little bad now.
For scaring Robin, not for the hickey. Because I'm not a monster, I'm
an enthusiast.
I'm enthusiastic about kissing you like crazy, and leaving you reminders that you're all mine, and I'm all yours.
And if other people happen to be made aware of that by those hickeys too, then... that's just a happy accident.
Oh, I mean... It makes sense, why it could help. It's the exact opposite of the alternative option, right? And it's okay, I promise. It's not really about making jokes as much as it's
certain words, I guess? I know it's crazy, I'm not about to seriously ask you to limit your vocabulary or anything. Levity helps you, just the same as hugging you a little tighter sometimes helps me. But I didn't mean to make things so serious like that.
[ steve was mauled, and eddie was mauled. there's ..yknow, obvious differences, but words are powerful, right? still- ]
Obviously the real takeaway here is that the only away you're allowed to be mauled ever again is by me.
And my hickey monster tendencies.
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It wasn't that bad! She's just gets weird when she thinks I'm banged up. Once she gave me the 3rd degree about a bruise on my forearm. We're talkin' a fifteen minute nonstop Q&A to know if something was wrong or if I got in a fight or if some kind of creepy monster did it or maybe I had some insane undiscovered blood disease until I coughed up that I just ran into a doorknob in the dark. ( such is having a friend that cares about his welfare. and Robin has done a lot of daydreaming about kisses (she tells him about them sometimes, and occasionally with way too many details), but she hasn't actually kissed anyone.
and never given anyone a hickey, so awkwardly, it was the last possible thought when she saw him with a very obvious bruise on his neck.
maybe he's told Nancy too much here........ oops. Robin may just murder him for this one and then they won't have to worry about scaring her with especially voracious hickeys! )
Delightful goddamn accident, if you ask me.
Though for me, not an accident. 100% on purpose. Really like seeing marks I leave on you. Almost as much as I like knowing somebody might see them and wonder who the lucky bastard is that left it there.
We can be serious. If you don't like that word I can not use that word. All right? I like knowing. That was... you can always tell me. That was good.
And I'm good with you being the only one to ever maul me ever again, too. Deal.
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If you want people to see the marks you give me, you might want to reconsider putting the majority of them all over my thighs.
Although keep putting them there forever, because it's great, love that.
Yeah? Alright.
Thank you.
[ oooooohh haha she's falling so hard all over again, sheesh. she's also realizing how jonathan only ever made it easier to hold onto her bad habit of immediately backtracking, after a moment of vulnerability. he was always so... weird about it, when she was that honest about something. so why risk causing a weird moment, when there doesn't need to be one?]
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Seriously, that's what she said about it. "This is a revelation." I'm not even sure what she meant by that, but, she said it.
I know she does. Not a ton to look back and be grateful for, working at Scoops. Sucked ass, actually. But I'd do it again, a hundred times, if I had to. Finding her was worth driving home smelling like milk wearing the world's stupidest shorts.
Hey, hold on. Just because most of them are on your thighs, doesn't mean I don't leave them on your neck. I'm equal opportunity, here.
Of course. If it helps then I'll do it. ( last time around, guessing at what would help each other only worked some of the time. if Nancy can articulate what upsets her, why wouldn't he listen? ) Or, I'll try, anyway. You get a free tit punch if I forget.
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She was probably just being dramatic.
Hey, those shorts were not stu
Okay, maybe they were a little stupid.
But you always look good in blue, and that includes when it comes in the form of a sailor uniform.
Oh, trust me, I know you do. I'm not sure my mom ever believed the "I accidentally burned myself with my curling iron" excuse, but I've used it so many times now that I think even my dad is starting to catch on.
I'm not going to
tit punch you.
I would punch you in the shoulder, maybe.
[ or pout in that way that makes him panic a little. either one. probably the second one. ]
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That was the worst I've ever looked, thank you very much, but I can probably manage to wear blue that isn't nautically themed if you like it that much. ( because he's vain and will take the You look good in blue even if he abjectly refuses the idea he looked good as a little sailor boy. )
That bad? I could tone it down a little. Maybe. ( he's frankly a hickey monster in his own right, these days. it's just that getting to leave hickeys on Nancy again is a particularly delightful thrill. and maybe there's the tiniest bit of caveman brain in there that wants to mark her as absolutely claimed, no questions. is that so wrong? ...maybe, but it's clanging around in there somewhere. between how much he likes the noise Nancy makes at the pull of his teeth and how good hints of him look painted on her pale skin. )
Tit punches hurt more, but fine. Shoulder punch.
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At the risk of recklessly feeding your ego, I'm not sure there's a color I don't like you in? But blue might be my favorite.
Or green.
No, blue, definitely blue.
You don't have to tone it down. I just need to remember whenever you leave a particularly noticeable one on my neck, so I don't accidentally waltz down to breakfast in the morning looking mildly debauched.
I like when you leave those marks behind, though. In the moment, and after the fact. The ones on my thighs are always still so crazy sensitive the next morning, in a good way.
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( damn steve, don't pull any punches there or anything!! )
How's it reckless? I do look good in green. And blue.
I'm glad there's not one color that really ruins it for you, that's nice. You look good in every color I've seen you in, too. But you look good in nothing at all, so that doesn't surprise me.
Really? ( interesting thought. he can work with that thought. ) How good are we talking? Touch yourself remembering my mouth between your legs and my hands spreading you open sort of good, maybe?
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[ shut up, she's not blushing the same way she always does when steve gets all matter-of-fact about sexy things, you're blushing the same wa- ]
It's reckless because I firmly believe that egos have limits! I really hope they have limits, at least.
And what if yours is already at maximum capacity, and I give you the compliment that pushes it over the edge? The consequences could be seriously dire. Catastrophic!
[ ..... oh, wait. that's definitely another matter-of-fact sexy text, and she's over here trying to be goofy about it. and then he's sending more!! shit! ]
Yes, really. And yes, sometimes it's exactly like that.
It's impossible to replicate what it feels like, or how it makes me feel, when you hold my thighs open wide, or down against my torso, or however you want me, but the hickeys
They're basically little bruises, you know? So
when they're somewhere on my body that's already sensitive, I don't even have to press into them all that much to get a particularly vivid reminder.
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Good. I like knowing you think about me when you're fingering yourself.
I think about you, even when there's no hickeys to help me along. They help, though, I get what you mean. I can remember you there better than anywhere else.
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A lot.
So much.
The most.
[ more than like, but damnit, she won't text it before she says it. even if she's starting to hit a point where sometimes she wants to type it a hundred times and send it to him so bad she has to ditch her phone in favor of her diary. and there've been too many close calls at this point. ]
Of course I think about you.
Actually
recently I've been realizing that I'm not sure I ever really stopped thinking about you, in that way.
And it's obviously more than that now, shush, that's not my point.
I just know I never forgot what your hands feel like. On my hips, and my thighs, and in my hair, and on my breasts, and my ass, and do you even know
how frustrating it is
that it doesn't matter how many different angles I tried, or positions, or if I used two fingers or three, or what
it's never felt as good as two of your fingers filling me up?
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It just means I know that you like it, and I like knowing what you like. Especially when I'm the thing you like.
( which feels a little needy and overly exposed to admit, oops, awkward. it's just... look, he really does like reminders Nancy likes him. okay? things are good, they're more! !! than good!!! but things went from good to bad to bullshit, so fast he still feels stupid that he didn't see the signs before it was too late.
so it's nice. when she says it. when he doesn't have to guess, or wonder. that's all. )
I thought about you, too. Kind of made me feel like an asshole. ( and probably did not help in the letting go and moving on front, so he tried to stop. picked dates that were about as far from Nancy Wheeler as he could get, so no wires could get crossed. and it's not like it was a bad time. sex is good, getting off is even better. it just was never the same. didn't have that spark, that feeling, that something. electricity. and his head was great at reminding him of that whenever it was over. )
I think I kind of like that your fingers don't feel like mine.
Because then no matter what you're going to think about me. Wish I was inside of you instead.
Curling up inside you as you make those noises you make, grip your sheets like you gotta hold on for dear life.
You'll get off but it won't be as good because I'm not there.
I like being the only one that can really make you feel like that.
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Blue, green, red. That one awful orange-y color that I genuinely can't stand when it's on the hanger, but then you put it on and it's like... Okay, sure! I guess that's my favorite color today!
And I like you in nothing at all, too. Especially after I've left some of those marks we were just talking about.
It's funny.. I don't think I really ever felt like an asshole for it. Which probably does make me an asshole, huh? But it wasn't intentional, at first. Not for a long time, actually. I would just be thinking about things that made me feel good, and imagination would just... go there. Your hands, your mouth, your dick. Seems so obvious now, but it didn't at the time.
[ yeah, no, she was definitely an asshole. because it's true- she didn't try to think of steve when she touched herself, but she definitely didn't end up thinking about her boyfriend as much as she probably should have. and maybe she knew that she didn't just dream up this guy that knew how to touch her, but didn't feel like jon. but at the time it just felt- dirty. in a fun way.
so, yeah. asshole. ]
What??
But
what if I need you, but you're at work? Or out, busy being a good friend?
You're basically saying you're okay with me having bad orgasms sometimes.
That's so mean. :c
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( he's not offended, not really. if anything this is the funniest compliment he has ever been given. he appreciates that Nancy thinks he can pull off something that is awful and orange-y. that said if he looks good in green why wouldn't he just wear green? that's easy. easy fix! )
You're not an asshole. ( it is truly difficult for Steve to conceptualize Nancy being an asshole, even if maybe the title is deserved, here. maybe they were both assholes, head and heart with someone else and not even brave enough to admit it to who they were with, or even to themselves. or maybe there's a better word for two people split apart by circumstance, with fringes of what they were left behind unresolved and unhappy. if there is, Steve doesn't know it. )
You were just... lonely. I get that. I don't know, maybe it's... no, it is fucked up.
But I'm glad I made you feel better. Even if it wasn't really me.
( and he is very determined she'll never get so lonely she'll have to imagine somebody else when they're together!! they are never making it to seventeen months without touching each other, Steve would rather die first. )
Not bad orgasms. Just... not as good.
Kinda like when you ask for white toast and get wheat. Yeah, it's sort of the same, you'll be fine.
But the next time you get toast it's the kind you wanted that first time, and it's a million times better.
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Plus, you really do wear it well.
Oh my god??
That's still so mean! You KNOW how much I don't like wheat toast!
[ it makes her laugh though, considering the first few post-midnight breakfasts they shared included this exact topic of discussion. just... in a different way. ]
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Oh, okay. I'm mean. Sure.
So, if I said I like jacking off just as much as I like it when you give me a handjob, you wouldn't mind at all.
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totally not the same.
That's not what I'm saying.
[ it kind of is, tho. this little shit!!! ]
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All ears over here, Wheeler.
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🎀ish? hereish?? yoursish??