[It should get old, thinking about how beautiful Fugo is. It should, logically, like listening to a good song on repeat for too long. Except it never does. Giorno could look at Fugo every hour of every day and never, ever get sick of absorbing his beauty, because it's so . . .]
[His lips curl up a little at the corners, a soft and slightly smug smile at the look on Fugo's face. The look on Fugo's face because he's looking at Giorno. Reflective, that's what it is. Fugo is beautiful in the way that he reacts to Giorno as well as the way he very simply is; the two of them together are beautiful. He thinks about his hand on Fugo's chest, lets his gaze fall down to Fugo's fingers carefully working his buttons loose.]
[Then he looks up again. How to describe this look? Does it matter? The focus in Fugo's eyes is unbelievable--the awe. They're both so familiar. Giorno shivers a bit, smiles wider, showing some teeth this time.]
That's how I feel, too.
[He lets his hands fall to Fugo's hips, to rest there with twitching, restless fingers. After a moment's stillness, his thumbs move, sweeping slowly up and down along the jut of Fugo's hipbones. Pretty, Giorno thinks, and tips his chin up a bit to show the line of his throat down to his collarbone.]
That's why I like playing with your buttons so much. I like to see a little bit of you at a time. I like looking at you so much, Fugo--sometimes I just can't stop myself from touching, too.
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[His lips curl up a little at the corners, a soft and slightly smug smile at the look on Fugo's face. The look on Fugo's face because he's looking at Giorno. Reflective, that's what it is. Fugo is beautiful in the way that he reacts to Giorno as well as the way he very simply is; the two of them together are beautiful. He thinks about his hand on Fugo's chest, lets his gaze fall down to Fugo's fingers carefully working his buttons loose.]
[Then he looks up again. How to describe this look? Does it matter? The focus in Fugo's eyes is unbelievable--the awe. They're both so familiar. Giorno shivers a bit, smiles wider, showing some teeth this time.]
That's how I feel, too.
[He lets his hands fall to Fugo's hips, to rest there with twitching, restless fingers. After a moment's stillness, his thumbs move, sweeping slowly up and down along the jut of Fugo's hipbones. Pretty, Giorno thinks, and tips his chin up a bit to show the line of his throat down to his collarbone.]
That's why I like playing with your buttons so much. I like to see a little bit of you at a time. I like looking at you so much, Fugo--sometimes I just can't stop myself from touching, too.