[At first Giorno doesn't realize what's got Fugo so upset because, frankly, he's more focused on looking than listening. He's absolutely enraptured by the look on Fugo's face, how focused and present and needy it is. It's actually the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen, to the point where he's got no idea how to cope with it. For a few long seconds he doesn't even breathe, just stares.]

[But then Fugo opens his eyes, and--oh. Oh. Fugo wants a kiss. Fugo wants a kiss very badly, it seems. The nice thing to do would be to give him one.]

[Hm.]

[Giorno lets out a soft, shuddering sigh as kisses press against his jaw. It feels good, but . . .]

I want to see you . . . You look so good when you're greedy, Fugo.

[So soft, so dreamy. He turns his head so that he and Fugo are face to face again, and he smiles--sweet and kind and then all of a sudden not in the least, toothy and wicked and full of promise.]

Did you want something? All you said was Giogio, but I want to give it to you, whatever it is . . . This?

[He leans in and kisses the corner of Fugo's mouth, a teasing repetition of Fugo's own gesture a moment ago. It's very light. It's terrible. Giorno is awful, and happily absorbed in tracing the dip at the small of Fugo's back with his fingertips. There's no place for his voice to go other than directly pressed against the corner of Fugo's mouth when he speaks again:]

Or did you mean--

[And Giorno surges up to kiss him. Properly, hungrily, full of greed and fondness and relief. Because he wanted a kiss, too. Very badly. Why wait? They spend too much time waiting as it is. He'd much rather do this, as pretty as Fugo is when he's sulking.]