#juno moore

A satisfied “hah” breaks Delsin from his focus, and he looks down to the area on his arm that was, as of thirty minutes ago, a blank space. Intricate lines of teal and black flowed over his skin, across his collarbone, playing along like liquid smoke. He wasn’t completely convinced that it wasn’t moving, flowing like water. “Holy shit, Juno, it’s incredible!” His eyes roam, and his hand moves towards the design. Then, looking back up to Juno, raising his brows to ask “can I?”, and upon receiving a confirming, pleased nod, runs his fingertips along the design, taking it in. It lacked any of the pain from a normal tattoo. “I wanted to convey that fluid sense of motion that follows in your trail when you zoom away,” Juno explains, absently trailing their fingers along Delsin’s shoulder, following the pigmented path. “And of course, I wanted it to play well with your eagle tattoo.” This is said with a satisfied grin, their pale blue eyes twinkling with pride.

They’re too busy checking over their work to notice the way Delsin’s skin prickles under their touch, the way his breathing sharpens. Or maybe something small within them knows, filling their body with a warmth akin to a bonfire on a moonlit night, shared blankets over bodies pining to make contact. For more. So much more. Juno glances up at Delsin, their breath catching at the intensity in his eyes, his hot, shallow breath hitting their skin.

“Oh.”

Mind blank. Words fail.

Only his dark, hungering eyes, the way he’s leaning into their space, ever so slightly, their fingers still on his hot, burning skin.

“Juno.”

He says it, straining, daring them to resist the very thing their body is pleading with them to do. He knows it, can read it on their face, how much they need it, need him.