—OPEN POST.

[iuno]

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

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[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. ]