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The thing about Nancy Wheeler is that, for all that people think she’s some kind of goody goody, she really likes having sex.
Of course, there’s an argument to be made about how sex isn’t really antithetical to being a “good girl” anyway. Women can enjoy orgasms and touch and being desired.
Misogyny aside though, the fact of the matter remains that she has always wanted sex, has always thought about having it, and has pretty much remained unchanged in that stance since she casually dropped her books in front of the horniest jock in school. On purpose.
And honestly, for all that Steve was a jerk before–and he did have his jerk moments aplenty back then–he was a total giver in the sack. Steve had rarely ever taken her to bed and not put his face between her legs for what felt like hours. He had only ever left that out when they had to be fast, but he still slipped his fingers onto her clit and did his best to make sure she didn’t leave unsatisfied. (And if she did, he’d make it up to her in spades later.)
After Steve was Jonathan. He’d been surprised the first time she confidently climbed onto his face, but he was hungry and enthusiastic. He listened. He helped her discover the joys of doggie style where one of them could easily touch her. In turn, she showed him that missionary could be better if one person hooked their legs on the other’s shoulders. (You’re welcome, Argyle.)
Point is, Nancy Wheeler likes sex and wants sex, and there’s not a damn thing wrong with that.
And right now she wants sex with Robin Buckley, and she wants it bad.
She wants to put her face between Robin’s legs and see how it feels to be the one down there for a change, listening to Robin moan and make those cute, hoarse gasps Nancy just knows she’ll make.
Nancy, Nance.
Nancy got over mincing words three or four apocalypses ago. She and Robin have been dating in a way that is very explicitly romantic. It’s not at all out of left field for Nancy to turn to her after they see a movie and say, “I want to drive us up to the quarry. Is that okay?”
“Oh. To, uh, to make out?” Robin swallows.
“If that’s all you want,” Nancy says. “If it’s not, no. I want to have sex with you. Honestly I keep looking at your thighs and wondering what might happen if I put my mouth on your–”
“Oh my God.” Robin exhales like she’s had the wind knocked out of her.
“Is that a no?”
“No. I mean yes. I mean…” Robin whimpers, chest heaving. “We can go to the quarry.” Her head nods like a bobblehead on a dash.
Nancy puts her hand on top of hers and squeezes. “Breathe, Robbie. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I…” Robin swallows. “No, I want to. You’re just so pretty and so smart, and I already feel like I won the lottery getting to date you, and now you want to sleep with me. So it’s… I’m just…”
“Nervous?” Nancy smiles at her warmly. Her girlfriend Robin Buckley. The cutest girl in the whole wide world.
“Nervous.” Robin nods. “But yes. Enthusiastic yes. The crowd goes wild.” She pretends to be the crowd in question, whispering ‘ahhhh, ahhhh’ into Nancy’s car.
It’s adorable.
Nancy wants to eat her out until she has to hold Robin’s hips down, until Robin begs her to stop for how good it feels.
Which is a thing Nancy can absolutely do. Tonight apparently. She checks her mirrors and carefully pulls out of her parking spot, car rolling through the dark. Robin is quiet the whole way, humming along to the radio, wiping her hands on her jeans again and again
“Robbie?” Nancy breaks the silence because it’s so off putting for Robin to say nothing for so long. Nancy loves that about her, how she’ll babble and babble. She’s usually only ever quiet when Nancy’s lips are on hers.
“Yeah?”
“Everything okay?”
“No.” Robin exhales heavily. “I’m so horny, I think I might combust.” Robin covers her face, and Nancy laughs into her own hand. She was not expecting that. It warms her cheeks. It makes her want to be reckless, to press down on the gas pedal and floor it.
Instead, she reaches over and puts one hand on Robin’s thigh, slipping her fingers to the inside to draw patterns over the denim and trace the seam. “Does that feel good?”
“Nance.” Robin squirms.
“Yes or no.”
“Y-yes.” Robin’s breaths come out erratically.
Nancy’s so glad when her tires hit gravel. She expertly guides the car into that dark place where it won’t be visible from the road and kills the engine. And then it’s just the two of them–alone in the night, Hawkins as safe as it was before 1983.
Ignoring that impatient, hungry need growing between her own legs, Nancy keeps drawing patterns on Robin’s inner thigh. Face buried in her hands again, Robin parts her fingers, peeking at Nancy through the gaps.
“Show me your beautiful face?” Nancy gives her puppy dog eyes and watches Robin drag her hands down off of her chin. “Good. That’s good, Robbie.”
“Oh God. You can’t just… Nance.”
“Can’t what? Do you like being told you’re good?”
Robin swallows audibly and nods.
“Do you want to do something really good?”
“Yes.”
“Kiss me,” Nancy says, and she waits for Robin to do it.
She waits because Robin still kisses her like it’s the first time even though the number has to be firmly in the double digits. Every time, Robin will reach out to take her face in her hands, leaning forward like she’s not quite sure she’s allowed, brushing her lips to Nancy’s before she wades in deeper.
Except Robin changes the routine.
After that first brush of her lips, something seems to break in her. She dives instead of wading, gripping on tight, her mouth needier and hotter than Nancy’s ever met it.
Nancy has the startlingly delicious revelation that Robin has probably never kissed anyone like this before. That she’s the first.
And, like, what a fucking gift, right?
Tangling her fingers in Robin's hair, she licks hot across her tongue. Wanting her. Needing her so much that it’s a sharp ache between her legs.
Nancy knows she’s wet, that she’s been wet since Robin started swiping her thumb across her knuckles in the theater. She knows because it had her squirming in her seat. She knows because she always goes home from their dates keyed up.
She wants Robin’s fingers inside of her so bad, fucking that ache away.
But she doesn’t want it as bad as she wants to–
“Should we get in the backseat?” Nancy asks.
“Please. God, if you don’t touch me soon, I think I might actually pass out.” Robin’s breathing like she sprinted a mile, and her words are even raspier than usual. It’s so hot. It’s hotter than all the things Nancy imagined when she touched herself after their dates.
Robin crawls between the seats instead of getting out, cursing when she bumps her head on the roof of the car and when her jeans get caught on the gearshift. Laughing, Nancy follows her lead. She loses a shoe on the way, kicking the other one off on purpose.
In the back seat, Robin collapses against the door, her shirt riding up to reveal a large triangle of soft skin.
Another thought–Nancy will probably be the first person to see Robin Buckley naked, at least like this.
“This is your first time?” Nancy asks.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you…?” Nancy looks around. “Should we wait? Should I make it special and get a hotel room or–”
“I can’t think of anything more perfect than you, Nance. The where is, like, totally irrelevant. Not even on the radar of what matters.”
“Robbie.” Nancy looks at her softly. This girl who threw fireballs at Vecna with her, who wore Nancy’s clothes for espionage and looked so cute in them that Nancy couldn't let her go. Who sometimes lets out strings of words in other languages and then blushes when Nancy asks for translations.
Plus that Scoops outfit. Maybe Nancy was a little gone on her even then without realizing it. (God, she wonders if Robin still has that. She wants Robin to wear it for her. She wants to wear it for Robin.)
“Should I…?” Robin’s hands move to the button on her jeans, but Nancy gently bats them away.
“No, I’ve got you.” Nancy runs her index finger along the strip of skin above Robin’s jeans, rucking her shirt up to kiss below her belly button, mouth moving down over the denim, over that seam right at the center.
Robin’s practically hyperventilating when Nancy hums against her cunt, smelling her through the fabric.
“Nancy, Jesus.”
“Hmm?” Nancy slides her hands up and down Robin’s inner thighs. Up and down again. “Do you need something?”
“I thought you’d be, I don’t know…” Robin takes a deep breath. “I always thought you were a priss. Before. Shit. Sorry. Terrible thing to say right now. Oh my God.”
“It’s okay, Robin. You didn’t know me.”
“I didn’t.”
“I probably was a priss. Before.” Nancy nuzzles against her through her jeans, making her squirm. “You didn’t expect me to be so forward.”
“No.”
“People don’t expect girls to be forward. They don’t expect us to saw off shotguns and use them to shoot monsters either.” Nancy finally goes for the button. “I’m determined when I want something, and right now, I want you.”
Nancy drags the zipper down, her pulse thrumming. She’s never seen anyone’s pussy but her own. She has no idea what to expect when Robin lifts her hips, biting her own thumb while she watches Nancy drag her jeans and panties down.
For a second, Nancy really does regret the quarry of it all. It’s dark. She can’t see the shades of pink Robin must be. She can only see the shape of her and how slick she is with want.
“Robbie, you’re so beautiful.” Nancy says, regret falling away when she drops Robin’s jeans to the side. Because how could she really regret it? Robin in her car, moonlight bouncing off her skin. Robin staring at her like she’s everything that matters in the world, biting her fingers and her lips in anticipation of exactly what Nancy can do.
Nancy has no experience. Except that she does. She knows exactly what felt good and what was useless and boring.
“Are you ready, Robbie?”
“I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe this is my life.” Robin licks her lips, nodding, her head bopping against the window once and making her wince and laugh at herself. How can Nancy not choose that moment to taste her for the first time, to chase that precious laugh with something better?
She wraps her lips around Robin’s clit and sucks softly, her tongue moving up and down at the same time.
“Oh,” Robin says, like she’s surprised, like it wasn’t what she was expecting. A thump–Robin’s head falling against the window again. “Oh God.” It’s every bit as hoarse and raspy as Nancy imagined. She resists the urge to put her hand up her own skirt and rub.
She wants to focus.
So she gives her tempted hand something to do.
“Can I put my fingers inside of you?” Nancy asks, right back to tonguing at Robin as soon as she’s done talking.
“Oh my God.” Robin pants so pretty. “Yes, uh-huh, yes I…yeah, you can.”
Seriously, how can one human person be so absolutely precious? Nancy teases at the slickness of her. She starts with one finger, the middle, which feels pretty apropos.
It’s different than Nancy thought too.
She has had this done to her a lot, but she had no idea how tight of a fit it was–getting fingers inside of someone when there’s a chin in the way. Tricky, but Nancy Wheeler loves a challenge, especially when that challenge is under her, letting out the most beautiful full-lung gasps.
Nancy hums with pleasure of her own. Robin is so slick, so fucking hot inside, and Nancy can feel the little flutters in her muscles.
“This is the best night of my life. No contest.” Robin gropes for something, anything to hold onto, palm slipping off the headrest. Nancy finds her wrist and plants Robin’s hand in her own hair, making a noise of approval when Robin grips her curls tight.
“Has anyone ever died from this? Do we know if–” Robin cuts herself off, moaning deep. “Oh shit, oh fuck. Nancy. Nance.” Her voice can’t find an octave to settle on. It starts low and pitches high by the end.
She’s getting tight around Nancy’s fingers. And fingers–Nancy has some experience with those. She knows what feels good inside of her when she’s all alone, how if she curls them just right and is patient, she’ll literally stop breathing. She knows what feels good in general, something for her body to tighten around–bonus if that something thrusts into her slow and deep.
Robin may not be the same as she is, but Nancy is nothing if not a good student. She listens with her ears and her touch–hearing Robin’s reactions, feeling them, adjusting accordingly. When she licks a particular rhythm and Robin writhes, she repeats it.
It’s the scientific method in practice, right? Hypothesis, testing, etc. etc.
Conclusions abound. And it’s funny how Robin has never thought of herself as pretty because she’s porcelain like this–something to be cherished and kept and protected.
Something pretty, even when it’s breaking apart.
“Nancy.”
So tight. So loud. So squirmy.
“Nance.” Robin keeps taking these urgent little breaths. Gasping, holding, gasping again. “Nancy, I’m gonna come. Oh, fuck, I’m gonna–Nancy, Nance, I’m coming.”
Robin’s moan is… so much.
It’s loud and hoarse and breathy. It’s everything Nancy dreamed it might be and something so far beyond those dreams all at once. Nancy wishes she had her tape recorder. God, she wonders if Robin would let her do that…
Around Nancy’s fingers, Robin’s muscles flutter wildly with her release. Robin holds onto her hair tight enough to hurt, body bucking and shaking while she moans into the car, the windows foggy. Nancy doesn’t stop. She keeps licking and fucking her until Robin lets out these raspy little squeals of “too much, too much” and starts pushing her away.
Nancy backs off. Someday, she might not. Someday, she might ask Robin to give her a word. Then, she might swear that unless Robin says that word, she won’t stop.
But that’s a future experiment.
On a late spring night by the quarry, Nancy learns that Robin comes down slowly, writhing and humming and giggling with joy the whole way. Nancy sits up on her knees and watches, transfixed by the blissed-out grin on Robin’s face.
“Hey,” Robin says, opening her eyes with a quiet laugh.
“Hey.”
“I should…” Robin licks her lips. “I should. You. I should you, yeah?”
“Do you want to?”
“Please, Nance, like you’re the only one of us who thought about it.”
“You thought about it?”
“Duh, have you seen you? Your face could launch a thousand ships, start a war, end a war. I guess you totally have ended wars, huh? Ugh. You’re so hot with a gun. I don’t even really like guns most of the time, but you? Shoot me, Nancy Wheeler. Step on me and shoot me dead.”
“You’re one to talk, Ms. Molotov. Plus you have that face made for sitting and all.”
“Nance!” Robin goes wide-eyed, grinning, still clearly full of happy brain chemicals. “Do you, uh want to do that? Sit on my face?”
“Do you want me to?”
Robin presses her lips in a tight line. Oh, she so does.
“I so do."
So they reposition in the backseat, swearing and laughing, stopping to make out for a second just so they can keep laughing into each other’s mouths.
“Did I say this is the best night of my life already? This is the best night of my life. Nancy fucking Wheeler is about to ride my face. I might die, but what a way to go, right? Out of all the ways I’ve almost died recently, I–”
“Robbie…”
“Mhm?”
Nancy hikes up her skirt and shushes her the most effective way she can. And it’s…
Yes.
For all Robin’s inexperienced, she’s very enthusiastic. She holds Nancy’s hips and moans under her while Nancy rides her tongue.
“Just like that, Robbie. You’re doing so good.”
Robin’s grip tightens.
“Fuck. Yeah, just, softly. Yes, oh yes. Good girl.”
It feels like hours and no time at all when Nancy throws her head back, gasping and sighing and crying out, her hands slamming against the car roof and scraping at the upholstery.
Robin pets her hips for a long time, whispering a word salad of nice things into the night.
“You’re so pretty and so hot and you smell and taste so good, Nance. I love your face, you know? I love your little chin and how…”
Nancy catches her breath, her grin as wide as the sky.
“I’m gonna…” Nancy gestures.
There’s more swearing and laughter involved in them trying to find a position to snuggle in. They manage, Robin’s back against the window, her arms wrapped around Nancy from behind. Where it rests on Nancy’s ribs, her thumb moves side to side in a soft arc.
“This really happened, right?” Robin asks. “I keep feeling like I’ll wake up any second snuggling my pillow. Just another wet dream about Nancy Wheeler.”
“I can pinch you if you want.” Nancy playfully demonstrates on Robin’s thigh, delighting in the happy noise behind her. “It happened, Robbie. It will happen again if you let it.” Nancy takes one of her hands and brings it to her mouth, kissing Robin’s knuckles. “Next time, we really are getting a hotel room. Or I’m at least stealing Eddie’s van. I need space. I need to see you. Like, I haven’t even seen your tits.”
“God, do you want to? Because I feel like Donald Duck right now with the whole shirt on, pants off thing.”
“A very sexy Donald Duck.”
“A slutty Winnie the Pooh.”
“I think we found our Halloween costumes this year,” Nancy says, and Robin cackles behind her.
“God, could you imagine?” Robin wheezes like a seal, and it’s so endearing actually. “I guess that’s totally in the spirit of college though. Dress sexy at parties. Do keg stands with your cunt out or whatever.”
Nancy grins. It had seemed a little like fate, her and Robin bending toward one another. Nancy had Emerson on the horizon. Robin had a few band scholarship offers from around the country, but had already chosen to accept the one from Boston College due to their linguistics program.
There had only been a spark between them when they started looking at apartments close to both campuses. Now that spark is a wildfire.
“‘Keg stands with your cunt out’ sounds like a song title,” Nancy says. “We should hand that over to Eddie.”
“Only if he swears to make it a gay girl anthem. I won’t have him changing it to ‘cock out’ and making it about Steve.” Robin groans. “They’re insufferable enough as it is.”
“Oh absolutely. ‘Cunt’ stays or we walk.”
“Speaking of Steve and Eddie,” Robin says. “I’ve been thinking we don’t really need two bedrooms anymore, especially after tonight, and they both want out of Hawkins."
“And if you have to work any job without Steve, you’ll maybe die?”
“There’s that.”
“I’ll have to check on the building’s pet policy,” Nancy says, “but I’m sure you can bring him along.”
“I’ll feed him and clean up after him, Nance, I swear.”
They both dissolve into giggles.
“Hey, Robin?” Nancy draws on her knee, switching between circles and figure eights.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Seriously?” Robin asks. "You're thanking me?"
“Seriously. I’m glad I’m here with you. I’m glad I have so much to look forward to as far as you’re concerned.”
Robin tightens her grip. “I’m glad too, Nance.”
Nancy feels her lips in her hair.
“You’ll bring that ballerina box to Boston, right?”
Nancy smiles and tangles her fingers together with Robin’s. “For you, Robbie, I’ll bring anything.”