iuno | —OPEN POST.

—OPEN POST.

TEXT — COMMS — ACTION — NSFW
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[ 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.) ]

[ 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. ]

[ 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. ]

[ 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.

[ 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. ]

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