[He can't think. He can't think of anything at all, or focus on anything but the warm sound of Giorno's laughter and then the sweet, sharp burst of pain when Giorno's teeth sink into his lip. And then, oh, the pad of Giorno's thumb when it brushes along the curve of his hipbone-- and he does squirm, damnit, but how can anyone expect him to sit still when Giorno is touching him like that?]
Ohhh-- [There's hardly any time between kisses, but still his voice slips out in the tiny opening. Low and needy, rough with want, barely words at all.] Oh, Giogio, I love you--
[Which is about when Giorno twists beneath him, upsets his center of gravity, and sends toppling backwards into the pillows. Fugo blinks hazily up at him, from underneath his disheveled, flyaway hair ... and smiles, lazy and pleased, reaching out to guide Giorno down. He probably shouldn't reward Giorno for being a bully but, oh, he doesn't mind a bit. And now that he's started to shift, languidly stretching out underneath Giorno, he's become very aware that his legs were half-asleep because now his feet are all prickly.
Not that he really cares. He'd rather concentrate on kissing Giorno, pressing him close with one hand at the small of his back and the other curled around the nape of his neck. It's an outstanding kiss; something that feels as if it should be once in a lifetime. But the two of them... they have so much time, don't they? Their whole lives, stretching out for years and years.]
You're so warm, [he murmurs, idly running his fingers through Giorno's hair.] Your heart's beating so fast. God, Giorno. I love you.
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Ohhh-- [There's hardly any time between kisses, but still his voice slips out in the tiny opening. Low and needy, rough with want, barely words at all.] Oh, Giogio, I love you--
[Which is about when Giorno twists beneath him, upsets his center of gravity, and sends toppling backwards into the pillows. Fugo blinks hazily up at him, from underneath his disheveled, flyaway hair ... and smiles, lazy and pleased, reaching out to guide Giorno down. He probably shouldn't reward Giorno for being a bully but, oh, he doesn't mind a bit. And now that he's started to shift, languidly stretching out underneath Giorno, he's become very aware that his legs were half-asleep because now his feet are all prickly.
Not that he really cares. He'd rather concentrate on kissing Giorno, pressing him close with one hand at the small of his back and the other curled around the nape of his neck. It's an outstanding kiss; something that feels as if it should be once in a lifetime. But the two of them... they have so much time, don't they? Their whole lives, stretching out for years and years.]
You're so warm, [he murmurs, idly running his fingers through Giorno's hair.] Your heart's beating so fast. God, Giorno. I love you.