—OPEN POST.

[iuno]

TEXT — COMMS — ACTION — NSFW
( anything is free game, go for it )

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[iuno]

[ hearing Peter plead with him so gently makes him flinch as no amount of shouting can do. guilt is such an insidious thing in Juno, thorns and brambles winding around his bones, in his throat, infesting the heart of him. but the sting of guilt he feels now seems different somehow — bright, sharp. the way so many things that are good for you are unpleasant to take in at first, the way sunlight hurts your eyes when you've been in the dark too long.

no one has ever managed to convince Juno to take care of himself for his own sake. if it's for Peter's sake, he can't bring himself to refuse. he still remembers too clearly the sound of his voice with the airlock between them, the desperate begging: open this door. that same thread of despair now, because the stitches are a terrible reminder of how many times Juno has come close to something worse and escaped by a hair's breadth for sheer luck. with Peter gone, there will be no one here to pull him out of the fire and patch him up again. he knows that, and he knows Peter is thinking about that, maybe has been for days leading up to this. ]

Okay. [ he leans in to kiss him just once, maybe trying to press the words into his mouth in the hopes that they'll taste sincere. ] Okay, I promise. Easy cases, no stupid reckless Juno Steel bullshit. I'll be so careful Rita won't even recognise me.

[ Peter has almost lost him twice before because of Juno's choices, and Juno doesn't have the force of will to do that to him again, to keep trying to pull away from him. it's going to destroy them both if Juno doesn't stop. they're too bound up in each other; every time he makes a half-hearted effort to break that, it only leaves wounds on the two of them. he doesn't think he can entirely make up for that, but the least he can do is meliorate the damage he's done.

he sweeps his thumb back and forth over Peter's hipbone, a touch so light that his finger trembles, and watches the movement like he's trying to memorise the shape of it. in the back of his mind, he fumbles for more reassuring words. he's never needed them before. ]

I'll be in one piece when— [ he manages to say when instead of if, but his voice catches and that exposes the fear eating away at him over this: ] when you come back.

[ it still sounds like if to him. if Peter makes it halfway across the galaxy and somehow doesn't ask himself why the fuck he would come back to a place like Mars for someone like Juno. neither of those have anything worthwhile to offer, certainly not compared to the glittering jewels of planets and stars that are apparently out there. the part of Juno determined to sabotage himself hopes that Peter doesn't come back, that he succeeds where Juno failed. the rest of him is in love and terrified. ]

[stilettoes]

You'd better, darling. I'm be rather upset if you were in more than one.

[ a threat that's hardly one, uttered in the narrow space between them as peter lifts his hands to rest them on the sides of juno's neck, thumbs against the pulse echoing along his jaw. there's something so flimsy about it, how it flutters and presses up along his fingers, reminding him of just how alive he is, how close he is.

but he knows that once he leaves, it's a toss up. juno will do what he feels is right, perhaps not what's best for him, but for everyone else. so he impresses it upon him as much as he can. you mean something to me, and it's hungry and frantic sometimes, fingers clutching and words mouthed along skin. you mean so much to me, let me come back to you here. because peter has never wanted to return somewhere so desperately before. here on mars, dried out and red and cloudy with neon and silt, is a home in the middle of an intersection, small and dimly lit with humming bulbs and windows that lock poorly and in the midst of that is juno.

and? peter has too many reasons to come back to juno and him alone. they'd fill up vast volumes upon volumes upon volumes. it's a frustrating sort of love, the kind that makes him nearly sick with it as he leans in and presses his mouth against his, catching that uncertainty, the hairline fracture in his voice as he fumbles over the one word. when, when, when. peter wonders when he'll be back in a moment like this. weeks? a month? he'll do what he can to keep juno from waiting too long, do what he must to come back because this?

oh it's worth it.

he kisses him like an echo of the one just prior, shallow, like a tattoo of a promise all along his lips, and then again, a little deeper than before, sliding a palm around his nape. when he pulls back, he doesn't say it, but he means it in each movement as he slides just one hand down along juno's arm to rest it in the crook of his elbow. come and give me a proper goodbye.

in the dimly lit room, he kisses him again, leans and touches lips to the corner of his mouth, then to the center of his lips, murmured: ] I trust you.

[ what's love if not trust first? ]

[iuno]

[ Peter leads and he goes easily, coming in closer as he's drawn, one hand on Peter's waist and the other braced on the mattress so that Juno can crowd him, leaning over with the length of his body and wordlessly encouraging Peter to lie back. but — I trust you. he can feel the way his expression crumples, either with despair or with love, both of them too often too alike in Juno's heart. a shaky, thin exhale escapes him as he pulls back, just a little, and he ducks his head to hide in the crook of Peter's neck. ]

Shouldn't. [ small and wretched; it's a tired argument, one that Juno isn't trying to start now and knows he won't win. it's just a compulsion to warn him every time, the disclaimer attached to that trust. but then he shakes his head, lifts it, kisses him like an apology. ] I trust you too.

[ he hadn't intended to say anything. actually, he was doing everything he could to bite the words back, to grind them in his teeth because he has no right to ask Peter for anything and less than that to leave him with any kind of guilt. but he can never keep his mouth from running around Peter. the warmth in his face, in his mouth sealing over Juno's once and then again like he just couldn't help himself, in the amber glow of sunset on his skin — Juno is so in love and that feeling flares up with fervour, burns up that self-destructive impulse, and he's muttering the words against Peter's jaw, maybe to himself more than anything: ]

Please come back. I know I don't deserve it but please—

[ he must be the worst person in the galaxy, to ask for this after nearly abandoning him twice over. to say I trust you and in the same breath have to beg. (it doesn't occur to him at all that it means something else coming from him; that it matters for Juno to ask someone to come back for him, to want it so much that he'll say it out loud.) ]

[stilettoes]

[ i know i don't deserve it.

if peter could, he'd kiss the words straight out of his mouth, pluck them straight from his head before they could manifest in the air. instead, he keeps close, lets his fingers wander and trail up the line of his shirt, along the cut of his shoulders, his throat. juno asks him to return in such a low voice he probably doesn't believe he will and that might be what hurts the most, a finger pressing in an old wound, a bruise in the shape of a man.

he closes his eyes and turns his head, eyelashes brushing against the line of juno's cheek, nose pressing into his warm skin. even if this was all they did, he would be content with, sitting here and reassuring juno that regardless of how far he went, he would always return to this rusty red planet that's gone and made him sentimental. ]

Shh, [ a plea, low, between his teeth. peter holds himself silently a moment, before closing his eyes and soothing a thumb back and forth against his jaw. he feels the words bubbling up in his throat, dangerous words that he's let slip a few times already, words he half doesn't want to have to say again, so instead he whispers it out. ] I will always come back to you.

[ juno pushes and strains, presses against him and pulls close simultaneously in such a way that it makes every inch of peter ache for him. ]

It'd take quite a force to keep me away, [ the words slip regardless, close, secreted away between the both of them. peter leans, a leg lifting just a little to rest against the bend of juno's knee to get that much closer, twining them moreso than before. ]

[iuno]

[ it isn't in Peter's nature to be tied down any more than it's in Juno's to be pried free of his self-made bindings, so he knows what it costs for him to make a promise like that, and his heart feels like it's trying to crawl out of his chest. he makes a low, wounded noise and burrows in close, the length of his body bearing down on Peter. his balance is a little thrown since he can't lean on his right hand, but it just means he has to stay near, braced on his forearm and leaning his weight on Peter rather than hovering over him.

he'll come back. he's done it before— but he had to, didn't he, to stop Miasma as much as to save Juno— no, he will. because he's better than Juno. right now, he can believe that, even if in a few days the doubt will hit him twice as hard. what matters more is the moment he has here, long-limbed and tangled up beneath him, the last time Peter Nureyev will be himself this openly for a while. Juno should make it worth it. ]

I'm gonna miss you. [ his throat closes around the words and it hurts something awful, worse than the stitches throbbing in his palm, worse than the knife. it's so difficult to say that it makes him angry; it shouldn't be that hard, why does he always have to be like this? he has to swallow hard once, twice, three times just to get anything else out, and it feels like pulling out shards of glass with his bare hands: ] Every goddamn day.

[ he's talking to the space over Peter's shoulder, the curve of his neck, a thousand years away from being able to say anything like that to his face. he can't even bear moving in to kiss him yet with that confession still hanging around his neck, so instead he sets his teeth against the long line of Peter's neck, nips at the skin there and plants a kiss to apologise for it. ]

Should I leave you something to remember me by, or is that going to be a pain for you?

[ there's always make-up, sure. but Peter's cover is what keeps him safe in any role, and Juno won't be around to get in between him and anything that means to hurt him, so asking permission is a small price to pay. ]

[stilettoes]

[ the struggle in juno's voice is palpable, makes the air around them thick and almost misty and for a moment, peter finds himself fighting over that lump in his throat that swells to the size of a fist, to the size of his heart. his fingers find the prominent blades of juno's shoulders, thumb over them as he whispers into his shoulder like his deepest, darkest secret. peter will keep it, this very soft confession in the dying sunset, will remember the warmth of the sun against his thighs, the warmth of juno between his thighs, all heavy weight and blood and antiseptic and... juno.

the teeth are what rouse him, pinching his skin in a way that makes him arch deliciously upwards in a stretch he's been needing since they set foot back in juno's apartment. he sighs as that, sighs even louder when juno kisses that very bruised and worried spot that he knows is going to pink and then purple and then yellow and fade. but it will take time, and peter will have this memory in the form of a bruise of twisting together in the martian sunset and languishing in one another for a few hours more.

he tips his throat up like an offering, laughing bubbling up visibly in the knot in his throat. ]

I have necklaces that will cover it just fine. [ a hand slides up juno's shoulder to cup the back of his skull lovingly, thumbing against his hair, fingers stretching up to guide him. his smile is sly, bleeding into his voice as he goes on, encouraging. ] Don't stop there.

[ he knows just the necklace he could wear, the high collared kind of course that will press beautifully against the bruise left by juno's tongue and teeth, a reminder of what he has.... what he has back "home."

no.

home.

god he'll miss this home. he'll miss juno, every morning waking up to him, breathing him in, loving him slowly in the morning light until they absolutely need to get up like some hazy dream. he breathes in sharply and moves beneath him with an encouraging push of his hips. mournfully: ] Feels as though I just arrived... and now I'm leaving.

[iuno]

[ there's a hum that vibrates against Peter's neck where Juno's mouth is pressed, patiently waiting; a contented sound for the fingers in his hair, the way the touch draws him in closer. he doesn't bite hard as Peter likes to — as Juno likes to be bitten — but takes his time instead, sucks a mark on the pale expanse of Peter's throat, worries at the skin between his teeth until the spot is dotted by blood vessels, laves his tongue over the hurt. he's been learning indulgence over time, inevitable with the company he has, and although it's a long way off from being something he's comfortable with, this is an area, at least, where he's happy to apply it. ]

You're telling me. I keep trying to figure out where we wasted all that time. [ he's not done leaving bruises yet, just pausing to speak against Peter's throat, lips brushing over the hard line of cartilage. he presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw, briefly. ] But you've been getting stir-crazy, so.

[ he can't be the optimist here. he's trying to keep guilt off the table as much as he can, but he can't say: it's okay, you'll be back before you know it. looking to the future isn't what he does, and the one time he did, it almost ended in leaving Peter in a hotel room. Juno's future first involves day after day of waking up without Peter in his home, the same cold, empty place it was before, Hyperion feeling a little more like a grave, red sand filling it in. that's how the future works. you don't get to skip the bad parts.

a few dark spots blooming on either side of Peter's neck are enough for Juno, and he shifts back up to kiss him, hips bearing his weight down to meet the way Peter arches, sliding against him with a sigh of pleasure just to be so near. ]

We have comms. [ it sounds like he's trying to reassure himself as much as Peter. ]