[ typically juno doesn't care about this kind of thing.
the way he is right now? he really doesn't care about it. it's not to be flippant - he's just hot as hell and connor's hands on him are the only thing abating the fever that he feels is straight up devouring him. he watches connor, sat back on his heels, as he unbuckles his belt, opens his trousers, but leaves them like that, easy to slip off but not quite there yet.
the hands on his thighs, though. there are nerves there, nervousness that juno is pretty sure on day one wouldn't have even been a thing connor displayed. he rests his hands for half a second on his knuckles, meant to soothe maybe.
reassure.
before he reaches forward and nudges connor back down with a kiss (it's desperate and hungry, but with a message there that says "don't worry, it's alright." juno's seldom ever been the reassuring type, but connor needs it. he can feel it in the tension in his hips, in the way he has to skate his fingers down his sides to hook them into the rim of his pants and pull them down slowly. he follows them with his mouth, dry kisses planted just below his pectorals, down the line of his stomach, trailing further and further until he meets fabric, until fabric gives way.
connor wasn't kidding when he said he wasn't equipped.
he's literally... got nothing down there. juno takes care (care! wow!) not to stare for very long, a bat of his eyelashes in a single blink before he seems to shrug it off and continue his slow path of kissing down along connor's hips, hands pulling his pants all the way down to his knees, and then further to take them all the way off. ]
Still you, doesn't matter. We can make it work just fine, [ what are words? juno says, and it's half a laugh out his mouth as he lets connor's pants drop to the floor, fingering his thighs a little bit as he lifts his head. he wets his lips a little, thinking for a long moment before thumbing connor's inner thigh. ] ... can I touch?
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the way he is right now? he really doesn't care about it. it's not to be flippant - he's just hot as hell and connor's hands on him are the only thing abating the fever that he feels is straight up devouring him. he watches connor, sat back on his heels, as he unbuckles his belt, opens his trousers, but leaves them like that, easy to slip off but not quite there yet.
the hands on his thighs, though. there are nerves there, nervousness that juno is pretty sure on day one wouldn't have even been a thing connor displayed. he rests his hands for half a second on his knuckles, meant to soothe maybe.
reassure.
before he reaches forward and nudges connor back down with a kiss (it's desperate and hungry, but with a message there that says "don't worry, it's alright." juno's seldom ever been the reassuring type, but connor needs it. he can feel it in the tension in his hips, in the way he has to skate his fingers down his sides to hook them into the rim of his pants and pull them down slowly. he follows them with his mouth, dry kisses planted just below his pectorals, down the line of his stomach, trailing further and further until he meets fabric, until fabric gives way.
connor wasn't kidding when he said he wasn't equipped.
he's literally... got nothing down there. juno takes care (care! wow!) not to stare for very long, a bat of his eyelashes in a single blink before he seems to shrug it off and continue his slow path of kissing down along connor's hips, hands pulling his pants all the way down to his knees, and then further to take them all the way off. ]
Still you, doesn't matter. We can make it work just fine, [ what are words? juno says, and it's half a laugh out his mouth as he lets connor's pants drop to the floor, fingering his thighs a little bit as he lifts his head. he wets his lips a little, thinking for a long moment before thumbing connor's inner thigh. ] ... can I touch?