[There really is only one word to describe the look on Fugo's face in reaction to this new touch: wanting. He pulls his lower lip between his teeth and his fingers, still curved around Giorno's wrist and cheek, twitch with each back and forth pass of Giorno's thumb. His eyes are closed and his eyebrows are drawn together; he's entirely focused on their shared warmth, the pressure of Giorno's hand on his back, and--
... and ...]
[Giorno isn't actually kissing him.]
[Hazily, Fugo opens his eyes. Giorno first pulled him close and then leaned in; they're touching in nearly every way possible. Except with a kiss. God. This is so unfair. He looks down at Giorno's lips and is momentarily distracted by their softness and his breath, which is warm and tickly. But it's not long before this distraction becomes its own sort of agony. Because Giorno isn't kissing him.]
Giorno--? [He doesn't mean to sound petulant. But the truth of the matter is that he is, at least a little. Especially when just talking makes their lips brush together. He presses a little kiss on the corner's of Giorno's mouth. A conceded point. A starter kiss, of sorts.] Giogio...
[When that doesn't work, he kisses that place again. And then along his jaw, fingers twitching and working by instinct to push through Giorno's hair; a series of light, feathery, and needy little kisses, because he can't stand that they aren't kissing properly.]
no subject
... and ...]
[Giorno isn't actually kissing him.]
[Hazily, Fugo opens his eyes. Giorno first pulled him close and then leaned in; they're touching in nearly every way possible. Except with a kiss. God. This is so unfair. He looks down at Giorno's lips and is momentarily distracted by their softness and his breath, which is warm and tickly. But it's not long before this distraction becomes its own sort of agony. Because Giorno isn't kissing him.]
Giorno--? [He doesn't mean to sound petulant. But the truth of the matter is that he is, at least a little. Especially when just talking makes their lips brush together. He presses a little kiss on the corner's of Giorno's mouth. A conceded point. A starter kiss, of sorts.] Giogio...
[When that doesn't work, he kisses that place again. And then along his jaw, fingers twitching and working by instinct to push through Giorno's hair; a series of light, feathery, and needy little kisses, because he can't stand that they aren't kissing properly.]