#(I said I would elaborate bc I had the sticky note already! I wanted to elaborate! But then.)

[dittomander]

if you've ever wanted a practical example of Why It Takes Me So Long To Answer/Write/Elaborate/Etc., I'm currently working on editing a post that's been in my drafts for a couple weeks at this point. It is a followup on an au concept I offhandedly posted a year-ish ago. I have a bulletpoint list of Things That Need To Go In The Post that has existed since I made the original post. so, the add-on is written, and has been written for over a year. I could type it up exactly as I have it on this sticky note and probably no one would question it. literally all I have to do is transcribe it.

but my goddamn writer brain is not letting me do that without first thinking through the logistics of every single bullet point and how they would actually play out if I were to write this au as a story (which I have no immediate plans to do) and but wait that doesn't address this potential plot hole and wouldn't it make more sense if I did it This Way instead and is this too on-the-nose and wouldn't it be better if and wouldn't the meaning be clearer if and and and-

I've been working on the post edit for 2+ hours at this point and I am halfway through the sticky note and it's not supposed to be a full coherent story it's just silly spitballing and I'm losing my mind and it's like this with every piece of original writing I have, be it a story or analysis or a simple headcanon post or reply to a comment and I'd like to think that helps with quality in the long run but I'd also like to not go through the 5 stages of grief every time I try to write a single word. christ.

[gerrystamour]

the bittersweet between my teeth - Chapter 3

Written by: GerryStAmour | Gift for: @northisnotup​

Important reminder:

Nureyev is a gender euphoric trans man who has not had top-surgery and does not wear a binder. I use a mix of masculine and feminine terminology when describing his body.

New tags:

Sexual Tension

Mild Sexual Content

First Kiss (doesn’t count bc it’s rex/juno tho)

Making Out

Groping

Chapter Three [Previous Chapter] [First Chapter]

- - - - - Nureyev’s POV - - - - -

Nureyev hadn’t even realized he was walking into the Old Town Cafe that morning until he made eye contact with Benten, who appeared to be completely unimpressed. Rita, however, had beamed at him.

“Hiiii Mista Glass!” she called loudly across the dining room before hissing at Benten, “Pay up, I called it.”

“You took a bet on whether I would come?” Nureyev questioned as he approached the counter.

“I usually only make bets when I’m confident on my odds,” Benten replied sourly. “Guess I wasn’t clear enough last night.”

“Oh, you were plenty clear, Benzaiten,” Nureyev said with a smirk. “I suppose I wasn’t clear enough about my intentions.”

“Here you go, Mista Glass!” Rita interrupted, shoving Nureyev’s usual breakfast into his hands. “Boss ain’t here right now, cos he’s got that whole competition thingy with the other restaurants.”

“Thank you, Rita. You are truly a gem,” he said with a pleased smile.

He sat down at his usual spot and pulled out a notebook and his comms. Since he was so close to finishing the job, he didn’t bother to bring his laptop. It was really only busy work he was doing at that point. Anything for an excuse to stay and fool around with a semi-retired private eye, really.

When the bell over the front door clanged loudly, followed by the near-stomping steps he knew to be Juno Steel’s, Nureyev had had grand plans to ignore the private eye, to wait and see if he would come to speak to him first.

But Nureyev never did have much self-control when he allowed himself sticky things like feelings, and he always did have a flare for the dramatic… 

When he looked up, Juno hadn’t seen him yet and he was allowed a brief moment to admire the beautiful lady for the first time in what he realized was two days. 

Juno was radiant as always, wearing his heavy boots and a cotton skirt, showing off his muscled legs. The detective’s simple, nearly threadbare wardrobe that he wore to work was something that Nureyev had always found endearing. The idea of being able to keep something long enough for it to show it’s well-loved age was completely foreign to Nureyev.

Then Juno inhaled sharply through his nose and turned to look in his direction, his visible eye wide but his expression completely unreadable. When Juno didn’t do or say anything after a few moments, Nureyev decided to say something to rile the lady up a bit and give Nureyev one of his beautiful overreactions to break the awful silence that was growing between them.

“Good morning, Juno,” he said, and he knew it came out dripping with every besotted thought he had ever entertained about Juno. Nureyev could see it in the way Juno’s expression twisted just a bit as he released the breath he was holding in a gusty sigh through his nose and stomped over. 

“Didn’t think you’d come back,” Juno said as he sat down heavily across from him, his tone hard and not even bothering to return his ‘good morning’. Nureyev met his gaze over the rims of his glasses and something ached in his chest at the hurt he saw on Juno’s face.

“I considered staying away,” Nureyev confessed.

“But you didn’t, huh?” Juno supplied with a snort, crossing his arms. “Ben told me you’re a terrible date.”

“Yes, well,” Nureyev hummed, smirking as he returned to writing in his notebook. “That is bound to happen when the wrong date shows up.”

There was a long beat of silence.

“What.” Juno said it so flatly, it hadn’t even sounded like a question. It was a statement of confusion, and one that didn’t even necessarily demand an answer. For a detective, Nureyev figured, asking questions was more of a courtesy to others.

So when he looked back up at Juno, he was nearly winded by how his beautiful face softened with confusion. Nureyev wasn’t sure he had ever wanted to kiss another person in his life more than he did in that moment.

“Yes, I remember handing my second invitation to a clever private eye and paid him a great many compliments that hardly cover my true feelings for him,” Nureyev elaborated with a dreamy sigh. “Yet, when I arrived, it was his twin brother who met me. To say I was confused would be an understatement, Juno, and given that his brother and I barely tolerate each other—”

“Wait, what?” Juno sputtered, shaking his head. “Start over, and without the dramatics.”

“Well, that’s no fun at all—”

“Glass,” Juno warned.

Nureyev shifted so that he was leaning on the table with his elbows. “Juno, I had asked for you to go with me,” he said, straightforward and earnest. “My work is coming to an end soon, and I wanted to have a nice evening with you before I left.”

Juno shook his head in disbelief. “But, Ben—”

“Has nothing to do with this,” Nureyev pushed, reaching across the table between them to rest his hand on Juno’s forearm. “I would like an opportunity to correct my blunder—”

Juno wrenched away from Nureyev’s touch as if it had burned him, and chewed the inside of his cheek. When he stood up, Nureyev reached to stop him but Juno just shook his head and retreated as quickly as he could to the kitchen. Rita made a sad sound and followed him.

Nureyev sat there for several moments, shocked at the turn in the conversation before schooling his expression into something cool and unfazed. He turned back to his notes and stayed at his table for hours, looking back up occasionally to see if Juno was going to return. Nureyev hoped his face didn’t show just how much it hurt when Juno didn’t.

The next two days went about the same way, with Nureyev only seeing Juno for brief intervals. Nureyev began to wonder if Benten would let him off the hook by virtue of Juno completely refusing to see him again.

By the third day, Nureyev was discouraged, though hoped he was fairly successful in not showing it.

He was sitting at his spot in the cafe watching some surveillance footage he had recorded, trying to find the cleanest take for each camera. The idea was that he would hijack the video feeds and loop some pre-recorded footage of empty halls, effectively hiding in plain sight as he snuck in.

As the lunch hour approached, he heard the kitchen door swing open. Nureyev paused the video to look up, and he truly disliked how much it upset him that it wasn’t Juno coming out, but Benten instead. Schooling his expression into a cool mask of disinterest, Nureyev looked back at the footage and hit play.

His work had been put off as long as possible, and it was only a matter of time before O’Flaherty contacted him again. Or worse, called in another thief. But that meant cutting his losses with Juno, which was for the best in more ways than one. It simply made no proper sense being so singularly focused on the private eye at all; they had rarely spoken, and when they did Juno was cagey and suspicious, his moments of openness fleeting and rare.

But those moments were captivating, pulling Nureyev in against the current, and all he could think about was the way Juno’s brow would soften and his jaw would clench just before he chewed the inside of his cheek. He thought of Juno’s smirk and the way it would settle into a soft smile and, even rarer, a genuine huff of laughter at a particularly well-timed joke. 

Nureyev wanted to bottle each and every one of those moments and take them with him, but he supposed the memories would have to do.

“Ugh, this is getting depressing,” Benten burst out, loudly and without warning, and stormed around the counter to sit at Nureyev’s table. “What are you doing?”

Nureyev looked at his coffee, and then to his work before asking in a stage whisper, “Is this a trick question, Benzaiten?”

“I mean about our deal, Rex,” Benten said with a roll of his eyes.

“My job here on Mars is ending,” Nureyev replied, closing his laptop and leaning across the table to give Benten his full attention. “I will be leaving shortly after regardless of outstanding affairs.”

“Bullshit,” Benten snapped. “You claim to really care about—”

“I have already delayed as much as I can, Benzaiten. My… client is growing impatient with the lack of results, especially seeing as I billed the work as child’s play at our consultation,” Nureyev hissed. “I would rather not leave without talking to Juno, and I was truly intending to keep to our deal, but I do not have the luxury of time to wait for him to work through whatever he’s feeling.”

Benten rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Rex,” he muttered as he moved to get up.

Something about the tone was the final straw, the constant needling from Benten and Juno’s avoidance and Ramses’ micromanagement becoming too much.

His hand flashed across the table, grabbing Benten’s wrist to pull him back down into his seat. Leaning across the table, Nureyev schooled his expression into something pleasant. “You are a spoiled brat, do you know that?” Nureyev said through gritted teeth. “You’ve pranced through life with this cocky little attitude, all the while Juno probably took every slap, punch, and insult that you earned.”

“Hey—”

“I can see it in the way you hold yourself next to him, the way Juno steps in front of you if it seems you’ve put your foot in it,” Nureyev continued, looking him up and down. “Do you even realize you’ve made him your shield?”

Benten did not answer, only stared at Nureyev with a raised eyebrow, though he did actually appear cowed. Nureyev would take it, and allowed himself one of his work smiles that showed off too many teeth, and not an ounce of kindness to soften the blow.

“You go on and on as if you understand exactly what I am, but I know it was Juno that figured it all out because he’s the clever one,” he continued unkindly and leaned back, watching Benten’s face. “I will say this again, but only because I hope it is repeated to Juno; I have delayed as long as possible, and will have to act soon. Once I have, I’m leaving and never returning.”

Nureyev moved to stand, but Benten held his hand up to stop him.

“Maybe you should stay for lunch today,” he said.

“What part of—”

“Yeah, yeah, I got all that and I’ll pass it on,” Benten replied and rolled his eyes. “He’ll probably come right out, yeah?”

“Possibly,” Nureyev said as he leaned back in his chair. “He’ll at least confirm what I am saying makes sense. I’m not making excuses to weasel out of something I wanted to do.”

Benten nodded, looking hurt and angry, and stood. For a moment, Nureyev felt a twinge of guilt watching him walk away, but it passed quickly when he remembered the constant antagonism. When Benten was gone, Rita scurried over to sit with him and gave him one of her brightest smiles.

“Wow, Mista Glass, I’ve never seen someone talk like that to Mista Benzaiten,” she said excitedly. “He’s a sweetheart, honestly, but I know he’s also really mean when he wants to be, y’know?”

“I didn’t mean to snap at him like that,” Nureyev said, because he thought he should say something like that.

“Yeah you did,” Rita laughed. “And he deserved it for what he’s been doin’.”

“What does that mean?” Nureyev asked, and he jumped a bit at Rita’s explosive sigh.

“What I’m sayn’ is Mista Benzaiten has a lot of good reasons to be suspicious of you, and I kinda agree. We’re both real tired of people hurtn’ Mista Steel, y’know?” She did not wait for Nureyev to respond to her question. “But I dunno, you look at him different and I think Mista Benzaiten sees that, too, but he’s scared. He thought someone looked at Juno different before, and that went real bad for both of them but that’s besides the point—” she took a deep breath and when Nureyev opened his mouth to ask for more information, she continued, “He gave you one of those ulti-whatever’s and you held up your end of it and he’s just sittn’ there lettn’ you fail! Which I said wasn’t fair, and let me tell ya Mista Glass, I was not happy that Mista Benzaiten actually went on that date with you. I told him to come clean, to tell you Mista Steel didn’t understand you asked him out and that going along with his conclusion-jumpn’ was more hurtful than helpful, but Mista Benzaiten was insist’ on talkn’ to you all private-like.”

Nureyev blinked at her, overwhelmed and still working his way through everything that was just said to him. “Thank you, Rita,” he said eventually, and she heaved a huge sigh.

“No, thank you Mista Glass! It's been a long week and these boys are gonna be the death of me if they keep it up,” she vented, leaning back in her chair.

“We can’t be having that,” Nureyev said sympathetically, returning the bright smile she gave him. “It’s safe to assume that you did most of Juno’s digging into me, yes?”

“Yeah,” Rita replied with a frown. It looked strange on her face, like hers wasn’t built for scowling. “I know a thing or two.”

Nureyev chuckled, shaking his head as he said, “Rita, I’ve done my own research into this merry bunch, professionally speaking I mean. I know the extent of your skills. How much have you found?”

Rita’s frown became a pout at the question. “Nothn’. Mista Steel figures ‘Rex Glass’ is a brand spankn’ new alias, so there’s nothn’ tied to it. Even facial recognition comes up with nothn’. It’s very annoyn’.”

“And when did you figure this all out?” he pushed, and Rita laughed.

“Oh, like the day afta’ you started showin’ up here or somethin’ like that,” she replied and Nureyev felt a shock rocket through him. “Mista Steel’s had your numba’ figured out since he saw you at Hyperion Brewn’ or whateva’ they’re called.”

Nureyev opened his mouth to say something but shut it, stunned as he was that Juno would entertain him at all.

The door to the kitchen opened, and habit had Nureyev looking up. Ready as he was to be disappointed, he was actually startled to see Juno leaving the kitchen carrying a plate with a sandwich. He strode up to Nureyev’s table and put the plate down, his expression very serious.

But Nureyev could see uncertainty in the lines around Juno’s visible eye, and it was obvious he was chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Juno—” Nureyev began, but Juno shook his head sharply.

“On the house. Make sure to use your napkin,” Juno bit out before turning on his heel and heading back to the kitchen.

Curiously, Nureyev picked up the sandwich—the same sandwich he had ordered the first time he ate there— and looked at the napkin that sat beneath it. Through the layers, he could see there was something written and couldn’t help the little chuckle.

“Oh, how mysterious, Mista Glass!” Rita cried excitedly. “Secret codes and hidden notes and all that stuff!”

Nureyev smiled indulgently at her and picked the napkin up to flip it open. Written inside were comms details, which he could only assume were Juno’s. A brief note, as curt and surly as the lady who wrote it, told Nureyev to call whenever he was able to talk freely.

“Not very mysterious, nor secret, if the whole cafe can hear you, dear Rita,” Nureyev said teasingly, tucking the napkin away to pick up the sandwich and start eating it.

“Oh! Right!” Rita said with a determined look. “Then I guess I better whispa’ then.”

“It’s best that we stop speaking of it entirely, actually,” Nureyev said with a laugh, making quick work of the sandwich before packing up his things to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, hopefully.”

“Of course, Mista Glass!” Rita replied with a smile so bright it was likely visible from orbit.

As Nureyev left the cafe, he entered Juno’s information into his comms and made the call. His stomach did somersaults as it beeped, waiting anxiously for Juno to answer.

“That was fast,” Juno answered, his tone flat but the tension was palpable.

“Would you prefer I call back later, dear detective?” Nureyev asked with a warm chuckle, and this earns him a snort of laughter.

“No, this is fine, just give me a second. I’m dealing with the oven,” he said, and Nureyev listened to Juno fiddle with and press several buttons, muttering calculations under his breath.

“Don’t you have an oven that does all of that for you?” Nureyev eventually asked, which was responded to by adorable stammering.

“I prefer doing it myself,” Juno grumbled defensively. “If it does the thinking for me, I’ll get lazy.”

“I truly doubt you’ve ever been ‘lazy’ a day in your life, Juno,” Nureyev all but purred, and he smiled at the shaky breath that earned him.

“Well that shows how well you know me then,” Juno said firmly.

Nureyev laughed as he hailed a cab. “That’s what I’m trying to change, dear detective,” he said, hoping he was conveying his sincerity well enough over the comms.

“Stop that,” Juno bit out, but the tone was pleading.

“Stop what, darling?” Nureyev asked cheekily as he slid into the backseat of the cab, handing the driver a business card for the hotel.

“Sucking up to me.”

“I can assure you, Juno, that is not at all what I’m doing,” Nureyev reassured with a small chuckle, letting his voice drop an octave. “But I’m not opposed to suck—”

“Nope, no, absolutely not,” Juno choked a bit. “We’re not— you said you’re leaving soon, right?”

Nureyev hummed his acknowledgement, his smile turning a bit sad.

“Will you tell me what all this is about?” Juno asked, his tone sceptical.

“That depends,” Nureyev replied cheekily, and Juno laughed.

“Okay, I’ll bite. It depends on what?” he asked, and Nureyev could hear the eyeroll.

Nureyev suddenly felt… something like worry and stress, knowing what came next. It was time to take the plunge and it was terrifying.

“Will you go to dinner with me, two nights from now?”

Juno scoffed. “Like a date?” he asked, his tone mocking and bitter but there was an edge to it that Nureyev desperately wanted to be hope.

“Only if you want it to be, Juno,” he replied soothingly. “It can just be dinner, where we can get to know each other and I will… tell you everything after if you still want to know.”

Juno hesitated for a moment before he took a shaky breath. “Do you want it to be a date?” Juno asked quietly.

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation, and he smiled softly at the little gasp Juno let out.

“Tomorrow, I’ll go to dinner with you,” Juno said after a few more moments.

“Tomorrow?” Nureyev asked, raising an eyebrow at the change in pace.

“That a problem, Glass?” Juno asked with a laugh. “You said you’re running out of time.”

Nureyev smiled, and said, “It’s not a problem at all. Thank you—”

“It’s not a date, by the way,” Juno suddenly said, defensive all over again.

“Of course not,” Nureyev agreed.

“You’re still a criminal.”

“Of course, so you say,” he laughed.

“It’s my job to turn people like you in.”

“Of course, Juno. I am aware.”

Juno let out a huff, sounding almost annoyed that Nureyev didn’t argue any of those points. “Good,” he bit out, sighing quietly. “Where are we going?”

“Let me worry about that, dear detective,” Nureyev said soothingly. “I’ll pick you up around seven?”

“Yeah, okay,” Juno said.

“Excellent, I’ll pick you up from your apartment—”

“I’m not telling you where I live, Glass,” Juno all but snapped, and Nureyev chuckled.

“The cafe then?”

Juno grunted, and Nureyev took that as an agreement and smiled. 

“What should I wear?” Juno asked.

“Something nice, I suppose,” Nureyev said as the cab pulled up to his hotel. “But I’m sure you’ll be radiant no matter—”

“I told you to stop sucking up to me,” Juno all but growled.

“And I told you that wasn’t what I was doing,” Nureyev sighed as he counted out some creds and handed them to the driver.

“Then what are you doing, Glass?” he demanded, and he sounded so angry and doubtful.

The impulse was there to continue to tease and flirt with the testy detective, but Nureyev knew it was time for sincerity. It was the least he could offer, and the least that Juno deserved.

“I’m flirting with you because I find you to be incredibly clever, strong-willed and sharp,” he began, taking a deep breath. “You are also very pleasing to look at, and you make the best pastries and sandwiches I have ever had the pleasure of enjoying in my life. And—”

“Okay, Glass, I get it!” Juno shouted, and Nureyev laughed as he got out of his cab.

“Do you, Juno? Because I could go on,” he teased.

Juno laughed at that, one of his beautiful rare ones that lifted Nureyev’s spirits like nothing else ever had. It was a strained laugh, still, but amused nonetheless.

“I bet you could,” Juno murmured, and the tone of his voice was so sweet Nureyev wished he could kiss him. “I’m hanging up now, Glass.”

“I will see you tomorrow, dear detective,” Nureyev said with a smile.

“I won’t talk to you when you’re at the cafe,” he warned.

“That’s fine. I’ll still be coming for my breakfast,” Nureyev replied.

“Whatever, knock yourself out,” Juno grumbled. “I have actual work to do. Bye.”

The comms beeped as Juno hung up and Nureyev couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he went to his room.

None of the traps in his room had been tripped, and after a cursory look for bugs and finding none, he sat down at the desk to work on removing any video evidence of himself from around the city. He knew the location of just about every camera in the city by then, having perfected this particular chore for over two weeks.

After that, he started compiling his plans, both in preparation for performing the heist, and also for it all to be organized for Juno to easily read. It was at that point that it properly dawned on Nureyev that the next evening, he would be spilling everything to Juno, and his gut squeezed at the thought.

Nureyev wanted to bolt, to go right then and complete the job and leave Mars forever. It would be the smart thing to do, the professional thing.

But he thought about Juno, waiting for Nureyev to pick him up, wearing that same sad expression he had when he was convinced Nureyev wanted Ben. He thought about how he would join the long line of disappointments who preceded him, and it made him sick to his stomach.

Juno deserved the truth, and what was more, Nureyev wanted him to know it.

-

The next morning, Nureyev sat at the cafe eating his breakfast and reading a book. He had no actual work to do anymore, and no longer had a reason to pretend that he did. The cafe was slower than usual, but Juno still managed to stay in the kitchen the whole time as he promised. If Juno ever peeked out through the kitchen door, Nureyev never caught him looking.

It was just before lunch, while Nureyev and Rita sat together watching one of her streams, when Benten arrived with Mick hot on his heels. Nureyev glanced up just in time to see Mick look right at him and frown. The expression was almost comical because, much like Rita, the man’s face was just simply not designed to hold a scowl.

Mick sat down, and grinned broadly at Rita’s delighted, “Hi, Mista Mercury!” 

“Good morning,” he said, turning back to Nureyev seriously. “So what are your intentions with my best bud?”

The question actually took Nureyev by surprise and he asked, “I beg your pardon?”

“He means Mista Steel, Mista Glass,” Rita sighed. “He calls Mista Steel his best friend, but I’m actually Mista Steel’s best friend—”

“You’re both wrong,” Benten called from the counter, where he was reading a magazine, not even looking up at them. “I’m his best friend by default.”

“Well,” Mick prompted, ignoring both of them. “What are your intentions with my best friend?”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “That is certainly a loaded question, Mr Mercury,” he replied eventually.

Mick made a face, which Nureyev was positive was meant to look a lot like Juno’s deadpan stare, but it just looked silly on his goofy face.

“Are they pure?” Mick asked, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Nureyev let out an actual bark of laughter at that, delighting in the way that Benten’s head shot up to stare at them.

“Absolutely not,” he replied cheekily, his tone almost mockingly flirtatious, though the words did summon some fantasies that had heat pooling between his legs.

Mick’s face broke into a grin while Benten audibly gagged. “Hey! That’s great because my buddy Jay is a catch and deserves to be treated like the queen he—”

“Mick!” Benten hissed. “Focus? Please?”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Mick said, visibly working to school his expression into something more serious and asked solemnly, “Do you like mushrooms?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Benten muttered, dropping his head onto the counter with a heavy thunk.

“I don’t have much of an opinion on them, to be honest,” Nureyev replied, shrugging with one shoulder. “They aren’t something I particularly love, I suppose.”

Mick was grinning again, and Nureyev was baffled by him.

“Perfect! Cos Jay hates them, like even the smell of them,” Mick said quickly. “There was this one time when I ate this whole mushroom and cheese pie thing, and JayJay walked home because he couldn’t stand sitting in the cab with me all the way back—”

“Mick, c’mon!” Benten groaned, and Mick actually rolled his eyes and Nureyev was certain the man was properly annoyed.

“Okay man, Glass, whatever,” Mick said with an exaggerated sigh. “Do you like Juno?”

“Very much,” Nureyev said without a moment’s hesitation, which brought a smile to Mick’s face again.

“And you wouldn’t willingly put him in harm’s way?” he continued.

“Not if I could help it.”

“And you’re not blackmailing or forcing him to go out with you tonight?”

“Not at all.”

Mick narrowed his eyes at Nureyev for a minute, the silence between them dragging by, before he smiled and shrugged. “Good enough for me,” he said pleasantly.

“Seriously, Mick?” Benten asked sceptically and Mick nodded.

“Yup! Listen, JayJay can take care of himself, Ben. I’m not gonna go around deciding for him what he can and cannot do,” Mick said, shrugging a bit at Rita’s annoyed huffing next to him.

“Did you even listen to anything I told you about what this guy does for a living?” Benten asked.

“Yeah, Ben, but I think Juno is the best equipped for that anyway. But, I mean,” Mick trailed off with a shrug, his face turning properly serious. “Whether I like him or not isn’t what matters, same with you and Rita. Jay makes his own choices, so I say we just get comfy with the lady’s decisions and be ready to clean up after things if we have to.”

Rita and Nureyev stared at Mick for a few long moments, before Rita said, “Wow, Mista Mercury! That was real smart! I mean, I’ve been saying the same stuff and tryn’ to get Mista Benzaiten to see it that way, too!”

The compliment caught Mick off-guard, and for a moment or two he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “Gee, thanks, Rita. Trying to protect Jay just makes him more reckless in my experience.”

“God, Mercury,” Benten said with a roll of his eyes. “You can pull that kind of wisdom out of your ass for Juno, but not yourself?”

“I’m doing fine,” Mick replied with a shrug.

“Mick, I literally just saved you from a mugger,” Benten said flatly, to which Mick just laughed.

Nureyev checked his watch and sighed, his heart suddenly in his throat. “Well, I should head out,” he said with a small smile. “I have some work to do before my dinner with Juno.”

“Wait, you can’t just leave without lunch, Mista Glass! Lemme go grab you somethn’, on the house!” Rita said as she jumped up and hurried back behind the counter. She froze suddenly and pointed back at Nureyev with a fierce expression. “And you’re taking a bag, Mista Glass. Or else I’m never serving you anything ever again.”

Nureyev laughed at the threat, utterly confused by it, but not interested in questioning it or the cringes of Rita and Benten.

- - - - -

Nureyev fiddled with the cuffs of his blazer in the back seat of the cab before tugging at his gloves lightly. He was nervous about the upcoming evening, which meant he was nauseated and ready to stop the cab and flee. Though it felt cowardly, he couldn’t actually look when the cab turned the corner toward the cafe, knowing it would be in view.

The fear and anxiety seized his chest, and the urge to disappear rose up like bile in his throat all over again. But he knew disappearing was not possible, and chose instead to flat out ignore their destination until he absolutely had to face it.

The car stopped and Nureyev only had a few seconds to attempt to collect himself before the door opened and someone slid in next to him. Taking a deep breath, Nureyev turned to face Juno and was immediately winded by the vision that sat across the bench from him. It was a good thing he hadn’t looked ahead, because he was certain that he would have actually bolted if he had.

Juno was dressed very well for a dinner he insisted was not a date, wearing a yellow gown with off-the-shoulder sleeves and a belt cinched tight around his waist. Notably, there was a dramatic slit up the length of the skirt, exposing Juno’s entire left leg to Nureyev’s greedy gaze, showing off the lace boots he wore as well as a tangle of flower embroidery on his hip.

After a few moments of gawking, Nureyev met Juno’s gaze, taking in the dark lipstick, the dramatic smokey eye shadow and the crisp black eyepatch. As he stared, Nureyev realized that the detective’s cheekbones, jawline, and collarbones shimmered with gold highlights, and he was desperate to mess it up with his tongue.

Simply put, Juno was breathtaking. He was also incredibly tense.

Juno was watching Nureyev’s face, and had begun to mess with the hem of his dress. “What?” Juno finally asked defensively, biting the inside of his cheek.

“You’re stunning, Juno,” Nureyev breathed, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to feel embarrassed at how easily he was affected by Juno. When Juno dipped his head and smiled softly at the compliment, Nureyev felt like he was in free-fall for a moment.

“Thanks, you…” Juno trailed off, shaking his head. “You look good. Too, I mean. You look good, too.”

The ride most of the way to the restaurant was quiet, though not uncomfortable. At least, the quiet wasn’t. Nureyev, however, found himself utterly distracted by Juno’s bare leg, wholly visible from his hip to his ankle. Nureyev wanted to reach across the bench and touch, to feel Juno’s warm skin through his leather glove, to take off his glove and feel the softness of that thigh under his fingers and squeeze the meat of it.

Several times over the course of the short cab ride, Nureyev had to look out the window to catch his breath and school his thoughts to something less needy. His body was reacting to his thoughts, and it would be incredibly humiliating to soak through his pants before they even reached the restaurant.

“Hey,” the cab driver suddenly said, his voice stern. “I’m not gonna stop you or watch, but it’s a 300 cred cleaning fee if you mess up the upholstery.”

Juno choked as Nureyev’s eyes snapped up to meet the man’s gaze in the rearview mirror. Juno stammered for a bit, saying, “Wh-what!? N-no it’s not— we’re not—  there isn’t— what?”

The cab driver just rolled his eyes. “Whatever, just letting you know,” he muttered.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Juno stared out the window and made a noise in the back of his throat. Nureyev couldn’t tell if it was a sound of amusement or something else and that made him even more nervous.

“I said this wasn’t a date,” Juno said flatly, glaring over his shoulder at Nureyev. The cab driver snorted at that, and Juno turned a glower at full heat on him.

“I am aware, dear detective,” Nureyev replied.

When Juno looked at him again, there was something intense in his expression, his visible eye narrowed at him. “Then why did you bring me to the place in Hyperion City for dumb saps to propose?”

Nureyev was tempted to feign ignorance, but this whole endeavour was about being up front and honest with Juno. Lying, especially over something like choosing a romantic venue for a night he wished to be just so, seemed stupid.

“It’s still not a date, as long as you don’t want it to be, Juno,” he replied finally. “I also wanted to make it clear exactly where my interest in you lies.”

Juno bit the inside of his cheek, mulling over Nureyev’s words before nodding. With another firm look, Juno said, “Still not a date.”

Nureyev smiled broadly. “Of course, dear.”

Juno seemed distracted for a moment, his gaze glancing down and locking onto Nureyev’s mouth. Clearing his throat loudly, the detective shook his head and opened his door, slipping out. Nureyev watched him, particularly interested when the movement shifted the dress to show off even more leg as well as a hint of his ass. At that, Nureyev had to take a deep breath to calm himself and was interrupted by the cab driver demanding to be paid.

Juno was waiting for him when he got out of the car, staring up at the restaurant with some trepidation.

“Everything alright, Juno?” Nureyev asked, standing at full height and straightening his blazer.

“This place is expensive, Glass,” Juno complained, but there was something in his tone that Nureyev couldn’t quite place.

“Have you been?” Nureyev asked cautiously, and immediately felt some regret when Juno’s expression darkened a bit.

“Yeah, a long time ago,” he replied with a sigh.

“Well,” Nureyev hummed and offered his elbow to Juno, grinning toothily when Juno accepted it without question. “All of my expenses are paid.”

Juno snorted, allowing himself to be led up the stairs and through the doors. “You’re going to expense a date?”

“Of course not, detective, that would be incredibly unprofessional!” Nureyev said with a scandalized gasp. “Thankfully, as you keep insisting, this isn’t a date.”

Juno looked away pointedly, chewing the inside of his cheek at realizing his slip-up. The urge to spin Juno where he stood and kiss the breath from his lungs was strong, and Nureyev was almost embarrassed by how badly he wanted it.

When they reached the Maitre d’, Nureyev said, “Reservation for Duke and Dahlia Rose.”

Nureyev smiled pleasantly, even as Juno snorted rudely at hearing the aliases, and tugged him along behind the Maitre d’ as she guided them through the dining room.

“Dahlia Rose? Really?” Juno asked with another laugh. “The hell kind of name is that?”

“I’ve used Duke Rose before, years ago, and I figured you might want an alias, too,” Nureyev teased with a wink down at Juno. “‘Dahlia’ was the best I could do on such short notice. Not all names can be as pretty as ‘Juno’, dear.”

“Isn’t it, I don’t know, a bit obvious that it’s not a real name?” Juno asked, and Nureyev smiled indulgently down at him but did not answer right away.

Nureyev took a moment to look around the dining room, noting the number of occupants, potential exits, and possible threats. Once he was finished casing the room, he paid attention to the actual people and with some amusement, he realized that several patrons had stopped to stare at Juno as he glided past their tables, eyes locked on his bare leg and the flowers at his hip.

Once they arrived at their table and were left alone, Nureyev cleared his throat to say, “Our names would only be ‘obvious’ aliases to incredibly clever private eyes, I would think.”

Juno looked away, seemingly startled by the praise, but he was smiling. The reaction of some nearby patrons at Juno’s demure display was completely understandable to Nureyev.

“You’re sucking up again,” Juno accused.

“I’m complimenting you, Juno,” Nureyev said as a server approached their table and quickly ordered them a bottle of wine.

“It’s the same difference,” Juno said flatly, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Hardly. ‘Sucking up’ as you call it implies some deception, as if part of what I was saying was a lie,” Nureyev began, pausing only long enough to sample the wine their server brought back and approve it to be served. He smiled at Juno’s frown over the rim of his wine glass. “Now, when I say that you are an absolute vision, the most gorgeous and clever lady I have ever had the pleasure of knowing? I am not stretching anything, lying, or teasing. I mean my words completely.”

“Whatever, Glass,” Juno muttered, obviously embarrassed but also somewhat pleased.

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes as they contemplated their menus.

“Ugh, I hate this,” Juno grumbled eventually, dropping his menu back on the table. “Just order me something. My eye’s too tired to read the fancy font. Nothing with mushrooms, though”

“Of course, dear,” Nureyev laughed. When the server returned, he ordered their food and turned his attention back to Juno.

The detective was lounging back in his chair, one arm crossed over his waist while the other held his wine glass just below his nose as he watched Nureyev.

“What’s on your mind?” Nureyev prompted and Juno just shrugged.

“This really seems like your whole… thing,” he replied, though his tone seemed to imply otherwise.

Nureyev couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled up. “Does it?”

Juno’s eye narrowed a bit, though his expression was kept pointedly disinterested. “You seem born to it,” he finally said and Nureyev smirked.

“Do you think so?” he prompted.

Something shifted in Juno’s gaze, where it seemed even sharper than Nureyev had ever seen it, and then he shook his head a bit. “No. Rich people are white-collar through and through, even when they’re being shady,” Juno finally answered, his tone firm and sure, and Nureyev felt a shiver roll through him. “They rarely risk getting their own hands dirty if they can help it.”

“Good work, detective!” Nureyev praised, hunger settling in his gut when Juno looked away with a shy smile again. “I knew you were very clever.”

“It’s not that hard to figure out,” Juno attempted to deflect.

“Ah, but it is,” Nureyev disagreed. “You’re the first person I’ve known who guessed correctly as you have.”

“Okay, so you weren’t born to it,” Juno pressed, and Nureyev could tell he was trying to move the conversation away from praising him.

“It’s all learned, you are correct. Not necessarily an act, per se, but I had to learn it for the job,” he replied with a smile, allowing it to become something a bit sharper as he said, “Much of my work involves schmoozing with the elite.”

Juno’s gaze locked onto his mouth again, his visible eye traveling along his teeth and he chewed the inside of his cheek.

“So, how did… you grow up to become Rex Glass,” Juno eventually asked, looking into his wine glass for a moment.

Nureyev debated responding, instinctively retreating inward as he was wont to do. But that was counterproductive to what he was hoping to achieve that evening with his beautiful dinner partner.

“I lived on the streets for much of my childhood, until I was taken in by a mentor. I don’t remember much of my life before that,” Nureyev replied, savouring his wine while Juno mulled over his words. “What about you?”

Juno snorted and rolled his eye a bit. “Ma used to work for Northstar Entertainment. Lost her job, and then things were hard,” Juno said with a shrug. “I’m sure you’ve already looked all that up.”

“Not at all,” Nureyev replied with a shake of his head. “I looked up the information the HCPD had on you once, but nothing personal.”

Juno looked completely baffled by his confession. “Why not?”

Nureyev had no good answer for Juno, and had to forcibly keep himself from answering with something witty and useless. “I’m not even sure, Juno. Normally, I would have, but I hesitated with you,” Nureyev said slowly, shrugging. “I wanted to hear what stories you have in your own words, I suppose. Perhaps it’s because I saw you before I knew even the first thing about you. I don’t know.”

“What do you know about me then?” Juno asked curiously.

“You’re a sharpshooter, and a damn good one—”

“Haven’t been a sharpshooter in five years, Glass—”

“No, no, do not interrupt,” Nureyev scolded, and Juno’s mouth snapped shut. “You can’t go from your level of talent to nothing, Juno. I know you’ve been going to shooting ranges weekly, according to Rita.”

“Doesn’t make me a sharpshooter,” Juno grumbled and Nureyev decided he didn’t want to argue with him.

“Regardless, I know you left the HCPD, and that there were some disciplinary notes, but I didn’t read them,” he reassured. “They weren’t relevant.”

Juno hummed, studying his face and seemed to decide, ultimately, that Nureyev was being truthful. “Huh, interesting. So this is honestly a chance to get to know each other?”

Nureyev nodded and laughed. “I have been saying that this whole time, but yes.”

Juno smirked, or at least tried for a smirk but it really was just a small, happy smile. “Oh,” was all he managed to say for a while, waiting patiently as the waiter brought a basket of bread to the table.

“I’m curious,” Nureyev began slowly. “What have you figured out about me?”

“Not much,” Juno replied with a petulant pout. “I’m guessing you’re Brahmese, but that’s not too difficult if you know what you’re looking for.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow. “And did you? Know what to look for, I mean?”

“No,” Juno admitted bitterly. “Thought your teeth could be used as an identifier, but turns out most of the people on Brahma share your general description.”

They were silent for a few moments, Nureyev mulling over Juno’s words, and Juno thinking about something impossible for Nureyev to parse out at all.

“Did you live up on New Kinshasa, or…?” Juno asked, his tone careful as he asked.

“No one is homeless on New Kinshasa,” Nureyev replied simply, aiming to leave it at that when he realized it wasn’t much of an answer. “I lived on the surface. My family… they either left or died, but I have no memory of them.”

Juno nodded and tore at his bread thoughtfully. “I’m… sorry?” he said eventually, and Nureyev smiled at the stilted attempt at sympathy.

“It’s the past, dear detective,” Nureyev waved it off. “My mentor took me in when I was quite young, and taught me everything I know.”

With another nod, and perhaps sensing there was no good way to elaborate on his mentor in public, Juno said, “My mom wasn’t that great. Ben wouldn’t want me saying it, but she was… she was terrible. I don’t know why he still defends her, but whatever.”

“Perhaps he knew a different side of her?” Nureyev supplied and Juno snorted.

“Yeah, he knew a different side of her, for sure,” Juno said sarcastically, rolling his eye. “She lost her job at Northstar when we were, like, four and she blamed me ever since.”

“Where is she now?” Nureyev asked.

“Dead. She went to Hoosegow after she tried to kill Ben—”

Nureyev dropped his bread knife, which startled Juno mid-sentence. “Excuse me?” he asked, sure he had misheard.

“She went to Hoosegow—”

“No, I caught that part, Juno,” Nureyev said with a weak laugh. “She tried to kill Benzaiten?”

Juno paused a moment before he nodded. “She thought he was me.”

Nureyev blinked at him for several moments before he said, “See, you keep saying things as if they’re supposed to make sense, but they don’t, Juno.”

“She hated me and wanted me dead, got Ben confused for me and had really shitty aim,” Juno explained in a frustrated huff. “She went to Hoosegow and then died a couple years later. There’s really not that much to it, Glass.”

Nureyev wanted to ask more questions, but Juno was visibly tense, his expression tight. Asking more would only spoil the rest of the evening and Nureyev couldn’t have that.

“Tell me about Mick,” he said instead, and immediately the dark clouds around Juno parted. “How does he fit in with Juno Steel?”

The rest of their evening went on like that, with them discussing the lighter parts of their lives and telling stories that had each other laughing out loud. 

They had finished their dinner and were working on their second bottle of wine as Nureyev began waxing poetic about other planets. He had been spurred on by the mystified way Juno stared at him over the rim of his wine glass, his deep blue eye catching the candlelight in an almost magical way.

“Wow, sounds amazing out there,” Juno murmured as Nureyev finished describing Neptune.

Nureyev hummed. “It is,” he said softly.

“Have you ever thought about… settling down?” Juno asked after a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I mean, stopping for a while?”

Nureyev thought he could see a glimmer of hope in the detective’s eye, one that the lady was obviously trying to hide or stamp out. For a moment, Nureyev wanted to lie, had it prepared on the tip of his tongue even, to keep that hope alive and see him smile. But Juno Steel would always prefer a hard truth over a pretty lie, which was something Nureyev found that he liked quite a lot.

“No, not at all,” Nureyev said gently. “Settling down for people in my line of work… usually doesn’t involve surviving to retire.”

Juno nodded at that, and Nureyev saw something shift in his expression, but it was so slight that he could not even begin to figure it out. Just then, their desserts arrived and Nureyev started in on his experiences on Venus.

Across from him, Juno shifted in his seat to cross his legs as he leaned forward to eat his dessert. Nureyev barely refrained from jumping when Juno’s foot trailed up the inside of his leg, stopping to rest against his chair between his knees. Nureyev looked up at Juno questioningly, but the look Juno offered him was the picture of innocence.

It wasn’t until Juno’s foot nudged his knee deliberately that Nureyev realized he had stopped talking entirely. Clearing his throat, he continued his story with a shaky voice. When Juno took a moment to lick his spoon just a bit too deliberately with entirely too much bedroom eye, Nureyev’s words stuttered to a halt once again.

“What?” Juno asked cheekily, and Nureyev stared at a spot of cream left at the corner of his mouth.

“You— you’ve got a bit of cream,” Nureyev begins, pointing at the corner of his own mouth.

Juno chuckled softly, as if he was truly embarrassed by such a thing, and wiped his fingertips through the mess before slipping them into his mouth. It was a simple enough gesture, and not even particularly suggestive on it’s own, until Juno’s blue eye flickered up to meet his. The heat in that gaze was intense, and Nureyev could feel the space between his thighs grow hot and damp.

Then Juno hollowed his cheeks as he pulled his fingers out of his mouth with a soft, yet perfectly audible pop.

As Nureyev dropped his spoon onto his plate with a disruptive clatter, a patron at a nearby table dropped something small which made a tinkling noise as it hit the floor. Clearing his throat forcefully, Nureyev picked up his spoon and resumed his story without looking at the scheming temptress across from him, instead watching the other patron frantically scoop what looked like an engagement ring up off the floor. With some amusement, if only to make himself feel better about being far too wet for not even being touched yet, he observed that both the patron aiming to propose and their partner were distracted by Juno.

Juno moved his foot again, slipping it further up Nureyev’s inner thigh, rocking up and down until Nureyev met his gaze again. The brat had an eyebrow raised with the spoon held between his lips, and his expression was molten.

With some alarm, Nureyev considered that he was being tested, that it was some sort of trap. A test was much more Benzaiten’s style, however— he couldn’t imagine Juno pulling the same sort of petty nonsense.

Nureyev knocked back the last of his wine and cleared his throat. “Would you like another bottle of wine, Juno?” he asked, his voice thick as he lounged back in his chair, allowing his blazer to fall open. Immediately, Juno’s gaze gravitated to his torso, tracing where Nureyev’s corset cut off just below his chest. Beneath the corset was just a lace shirt, completely see-through except for two notably solid patches of flowers.

Juno eventually hummed, clearing his throat and scooping up the last bit of his dessert with a shake of his head. “I don’t think so. We still have something to discuss,” he said before smirking suggestively. “In private.”

“Ah, of course,” Nureyev said a bit shakily, swallowing thickly. “We could go back to your apartment? If you would like?”

Juno bit his lip and cast his eye downward, a mockery of shy nerves. “I was thinking we should go to your hotel room? It’ll be quiet, empty… private,” Juno said demurely, shrugging a bare shoulder that all but demanded Nureyev’s teeth to mark it up.

Nureyev watched Juno’s face, trying to gauge how much of what he was saying was innuendo, and said, “Of course. We can discuss things at my hotel as long and loud as we please,” he said slowly, smiling to expose his sharp teeth a bit. “We could get quite heated and not disturb a single person.”

“Sounds good to me,” Juno said, and his voice was strained suddenly, as if he hadn’t counted on Nureyev rising to his bait.

Nureyev made quick work of settling their bill, hardly even looking at the amount before he stood and offered his elbow to Juno. When the detective accepted, he tucked himself much closer to Nureyev’s side, the heat of him warming through the layer of his blazer.

Sliding into the backseat of the first available cab, Nureyev was startled when Juno sat on the bench directly beside him. Looking down, Nureyev swallowed hard as Juno’s bare thigh pressed along his leg, and he shivered when the detective’s shoulder leaned into his side while he smoothed his dress down properly.

Very conscious of the placement of his hands, Nureyev kept them clasped together in his lap as he stared resolutely out the window. However, the scheming lady next to him was determined to make any attempt at professionalism impossible, what with the way he kept shifting his leg against Nureyev’s.

The short cab ride to the hotel was already shaping up to feel like an eternity.

“So, is there a plan when we get to the hotel?”

Nureyev tilted his head just so to look down at Juno, knocked nearly breathless all over again by the gorgeous lady looking up at him. But he schooled his expression, smirking just enough to flash some of his teeth, and Nureyev did not miss the way Juno looked at his mouth, or the way Juno’s own mouth fell open with a nearly silent gasp.

“What do you mean by that, Juno?” Nureyev prompted, saying his name with a suggestive drawl and raising an eyebrow.

He did not miss the way Juno shivered when he said his name.

Juno leaned closer to him, the glorious heat of his soft body flush against his side. “You have a way in where we won’t be seen?” he pressed, his voice low.

Nureyev chuckled and leaned into Juno’s space, putting his gloved hand down on Juno’s thigh near where it met his hip As he leaned even harder against Juno, he slid his long leather-clad fingers down between Juno’s thighs, the head of the lady’s cock mere inches away.

Juno shuddered, tipping his head when Nureyev bent low to brush his lips against the shell of his ear. With a toothy smirk, Nureyev squeezed the meat of Juno’s thigh until he gasped.

“We won’t be sneaking past any cameras, my dear detective,” he explained in a whisper, luxuriating in the gasps and shudders of his beautiful lady. “We will walk in together, keeping everything professional, of course.”

“Professional?” Juno bit out, his voice breathy and dripping with tension.

“Of course, and it should be easy enough,” Nureyev teased, his lips brushing Juno’s ear and for a moment he nearly bites it. “This isn’t a date after all.”

Juno nodded jerkily with a hard swallow, and heat absolutely radiated off of Juno’s face.

Nureyev chuckled, flicking his tongue out to wet his lips, which in turn caught the shell of Juno’s ear. Relishing Juno’s shudder, Nureyev squeezed the thigh in his hand tight enough to bruise, holding firm until Juno let out a soft sound. It was just a quiet vocalization on the tail-end of his sharp exhale, and Nureyev wanted more of it. He suddenly wished that he wasn’t wearing his gloves, wanting so desperately to feel the detective’s soft skin under his fingertips.

“I will erase any footage of us together when we go up to our room,” Nureyev murmured, inwardly flinching at calling it their room, a slip-up he had never made before in his career as a thief. Juno at least did not seem to notice his poor word choice, his head tilted to the side, visible eye fluttering as Nureyev massaged his thigh. It was then that he realized that Juno had wrapped one of his hands around Nureyev’s wrist, holding tightly, but not trying to pull his hand away.

Before he pulled back, Nureyev took a moment longer to press his nose and mouth to the side of Juno’s head, just above his ear. Breathing in the scent of coconut and something else, he let out a soft groan only for Juno to hear. Finally, he released Juno, withdrawing his hand with a teasing slide of his fingertips against his sensitive inner-thigh. At Juno’s twitch and gentle gasp, Nureyev found himself very interested indeed to find out just how responsive his beautiful lady truly was.

Sitting back, Nureyev looked at Juno again and immediately regretted every action he made leading up to that very moment.

Juno’s gaze was molten, his lips parted and his visible eye heavy-lidded. There was a very alarming moment when Nureyev wanted to grab the private eye and kiss the breath from him, to press him back against their seat and swallow every gasp, moan, and pleading word his detective might utter.

Pulling on the reins of his self-control, Nureyev sucked a deep breath in through his nose and turned his attention straight ahead. Next to him, he could hear Juno taking a few deep breaths himself before he settled finally. The tension in the backseat was palpable, and every time Nureyev met the cab driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror, she looked completely unimpressed.

When they arrived at the hotel, Nureyev was still paying the driver when the doorman opened Juno’s door to assist him out of the vehicle.

“Ah, Mr Glass! Welcome back to the Hyperion Hotel!” the doorman said exuberantly as Nureyev stepped out behind Juno. “Would you and your companion enjoy a bottle of champagne this evening?”

“Thank you kindly, Washburn, but this is merely business,” Nureyev said with a pleasant smile, and he did not miss the sceptical tilt of the doorman’s eyebrows at his claim.

“Of course, Mr Glass,” Washburn said with a knowing wink. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

With that, Nureyev and Juno entered the opulent lobby with at least a foot between them. Nureyev nodded politely to the associates behind the front desk as they all greeted him by name as well, and Juno made a noise in the back of his throat.

“It’s not, you know, weird that they all know your name?” Juno asked quietly.

“Not at all, my dear Juno,” Nureyev replied with an indulgent smile. “In a place like this, it’s industry standard for all employees to know any guest staying longer than two nights by name.”

“Sounds pretty risky,” Juno murmured and Nureyev laughed a bit.

“This is why I usually stay at little dives if I intend to spend more than a day in one place,” Nureyev agreed. “Employees at places like that are barely paid enough to show up to their shifts, and if you tip them nicely they’ll lie to Dark Matters for you if they have to.”

“Speaking from experience?” Juno said with a snort as they reached the elevators.

“Perhaps,” Nureyev teased with a sly smile, guiding Juno into the elevator when it arrived.

It felt as though the elevator was crawling up the floors after that, and Nureyev let out a sigh. “There are only three cameras on my floor, all of which are situated at the elevator bay,” Nureyev began, his voice low and serious. “One will be facing us when we exit the elevator, so you will have to keep your face low without actually looking as though you are hiding it.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Juno replied, and there wasn’t even an ounce of sarcasm in his tone. “The other two cameras?”

“They face down the two wings. Once we turn down the hall to my room, it will be behind us so it should be a simple thing with minimal risk,” Nureyev answered, and felt something shift in his chest at the curt nod Juno gave him.

“Got it,” Juno murmured, shrugging.

Nureyev was genuinely impressed by how quickly Juno was able to follow his lead as they stepped out of the elevator, keeping his head down by taking his comms out of his bag to fiddle like he was getting ready to call someone. His focus was remarkable, and Nureyev witnessed the exact moment when Juno relaxed again. He hadn’t even realized just how serious Juno had been until they turned the corner and had their backs to the camera.

Gone was the intense look and stony silence, and in its place was the simmering heat from the backseat of the cab again. Their gazes met once and Nureyev was nearly overwhelmed with the desire to pin the detective against the wall and have his wicked way with him right there. When they arrived at Nureyev’s room, Juno leaned against the doorjamb and smiled up at him in such a broad, open way that something ached terribly deep in Nureyev’s chest.

Nureyev was going to insist they talk once they stepped inside, he decided. He wanted the air to be clear between them, to make sure Juno went into anything they might do that evening fully informed. Juno knew he was a criminal, yes, but there was so much more to his job on Mars, things that were directly related to Juno. Nureyev knew he couldn’t move forward with that hanging over and between them.

The lock on the door chimed as it released, and Nureyev pushed the door open. Standing with his back against it to hold it open for Juno, he gestured grandly for the detective to enter. The smile on Juno’s face as he stepped into the darkened entryway from the hall was mischievous, and Nureyev narrowed his eyes a bit in suspicion when Juno did not continue into the suite.

There was no way Nureyev would have predicted what Juno had planned.

Hands grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down, his sharp gasp of surprise swallowed in a hot mouth and smothered by plump lips made sticky with lipstain. Nureyev was a weak man, however, and returned the hard kiss by meeting Juno’s tongue halfway, shivering as Juno pressed his perfect, soft body flush to his. 

He was effectively pinned against the door he was holding open, and he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the galaxy. Juno was making delicious little sounds against his tongue as he hitched his bare leg up, seemingly to wrap it around Nureyev’s waist, but their difference in height was too much. With a low growl, Nureyev grabbed Juno’s supple ass with both hands and hauled him up until the detective could find purchase with his legs around his thin waist and his arms draped over his shoulders.

All thoughts of talking things out with Juno first had swiftly flown from Nureyev’s mind, every coherent thought he might have had fled. He realized with some very distant alarm that they had somehow made it all the way through the suite and into the bedroom, as he found himself seated on the bed with Juno squirming in his lap. The detective was whining into his mouth, one of his hands tangled in his loose hair; Nureyev didn’t even recall taking the tie out of it and undoing the braid, which was almost concerning enough to snap him out of his lust-driven haze. Juno’s other hand was on his chest, groping one of his tits and flicking his thumb across the nipple.

Nureyev wasn’t very sensitive there, but he also wasn’t about to deny having Juno’s hands on him.

But Nureyev’s own hands were frantic as well, his desire to touch and hold every part of Juno taking over now that he could. One hand was on Juno’s thigh following the straps that wrapped his leg snugly while the other clung to the golden fabric of the gown at his hip. Nureyev slipped his gloved fingers beneath the straps to squeeze Juno’s soft thigh, and rested his thumb teasingly near the base of a very prominent erection. When Juno shivered, Nureyev pressed into the sensitive spot with a possessive growl, pulling a needy sob from Juno and swallowing it greedily.

Nureyev groaned at how responsive his private eye was and licked deeper and harder into his perfect mouth.

Juno tugged at his corset, fumbling with the clasps as he whispered against his mouth, “Fuck, Glass, been wanting this off you since the moment I saw you in it.”

Hearing his alias jolted Nureyev out of his lustful haze once and for all, and he was struck with the need to tell Juno immediately. He couldn’t allow it to go any further so long as Juno knew him as Rex Glass.

Nureyev turned his head away from Juno’s lips and shivered as the detective only moved his lips to his throat, mouthing, biting, and sucking at the pale skin. “Juno, we still need to talk,” he gasped, moaning and squeezing Juno’s thighs.

“Then you talk, I’ll finish undressing us,” Juno murmured cheekily, and Nureyev could feel his smirk. “Multitasking, yeah?”

“Juno,” Nureyev moaned, lifting his hands to grab Juno’s wrists and pull his hands away from his clothes.

When Juno made a petulant sound against his pulse, Nureyev’s willpower wavered dangerously. What harm could it do, waiting until his desire was sated and he’d had the lady who haunted his waking thoughts?

Then Juno groaned, “C’mon, Rex, we can talk later.” His tone had been teasing, pleading but not demanding, but it felt like a blow to Nureyev’s gut.

That had been the first time Juno had called him ‘Rex’, and he felt sick to his stomach at the thought of continuing. There was an alarming moment where his thoughts swirled around the disgust in himself for letting it progress this far so quickly, and then the fear that came with the intensity of his feelings.

‘Rex Glass’ was a fake name, a fake person, while Juno was so real and beautiful. Nureyev wanted— no, needed Juno to know his name, his purpose for being on Mars. He needed Juno to know him, even if he chose in the end to cast Nureyev aside. He knew, roughly, what it meant for Juno to be in his lap, pulling at his clothes and begging so prettily for more.

He didn’t want to fuck Juno while only offering less than half of himself when the detective was giving everything in return. He didn’t want to fuck Juno as Rex glass, he thought with a soft cry when Juno bit his neck again.

With a gasp of utter terror, he realized he wanted to make love to Juno Steel as Peter Nureyev, more than anything else in the galaxy.

The detective was still working bruises into the skin of his long throat when Nureyev turned his head to whisper, directly into Juno’s ear, “Nureyev.”

Juno froze, and Nureyev screwed his eyes tightly shut.

“My name is Peter Nureyev.”

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