[Giorno has spent a long time waiting for this. Not just-- this, what's happening right now. The kissing his fingertips thing, which is delightful and distracting all on its own. No. All ... of this. Giorno has spent so much time waiting patiently for Fugo to-- catch up. To be okay with being looked at; to crave being touched in the same ways he does. To believe him when he says I want you and I want you to want me.
It floors Fugo, honestly, now that he has begun to understand exactly how much Giorno wants him; how much time Giorno has been thinking about being-- with him.]
[Giorno didn't have to wait. Fugo has promised him everything: body, mind, and soul. All Giorno ever needed to do was ask--because Fugo would do anything for him. And Giorno knows that. Greedy, domineering Giorno, who's thought so much about kissing his fingertips and marking up his stomach and thighs, has waited for him to be ready. Every step they've taken, big or small, Giorno has asked him in half a dozen ways may I?, is this okay?, and do you want to? They only ever move forward when Fugo is ready. When it comes to this, Giorno has never pushed.
Giorno didn't want to just be intimate with him. Not if it meant that Fugo felt he had to, because of what he promised. Giorno cares so much more about what Fugo wants than anyone else Fugo has given himself over to.]
Yes. [Fugo says it as clearly as he can, so there can be no mistake. And then, just to be sure, he says it again.] Yes, Giogio. Please. I want you to.
[He smiles. It's shy, yes-- he's never done this before. And a little overwhelmed-- because who wouldn't be, in this situation? But more than anything else, it's happy. Excited. Because Fugo wants, so very much, to be here. With Giorno, who loves him; who he loves more than anyone else in this world, or any other.
Distantly, he brushes his thumb along Giorno's lower lip. He's ... so beautiful. And Fugo would like to admit that he wants to see what sort of mess Giorno will fall apart into when he's kissed everywhere, but that would be a little counterproductive to this moment. Later, maybe. When it's his turn to help Giorno with his button.]
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It floors Fugo, honestly, now that he has begun to understand exactly how much Giorno wants him; how much time Giorno has been thinking about being-- with him.]
[Giorno didn't have to wait. Fugo has promised him everything: body, mind, and soul. All Giorno ever needed to do was ask--because Fugo would do anything for him. And Giorno knows that. Greedy, domineering Giorno, who's thought so much about kissing his fingertips and marking up his stomach and thighs, has waited for him to be ready. Every step they've taken, big or small, Giorno has asked him in half a dozen ways may I?, is this okay?, and do you want to? They only ever move forward when Fugo is ready. When it comes to this, Giorno has never pushed.
Giorno didn't want to just be intimate with him. Not if it meant that Fugo felt he had to, because of what he promised. Giorno cares so much more about what Fugo wants than anyone else Fugo has given himself over to.]
Yes. [Fugo says it as clearly as he can, so there can be no mistake. And then, just to be sure, he says it again.] Yes, Giogio. Please. I want you to.
[He smiles. It's shy, yes-- he's never done this before. And a little overwhelmed-- because who wouldn't be, in this situation? But more than anything else, it's happy. Excited. Because Fugo wants, so very much, to be here. With Giorno, who loves him; who he loves more than anyone else in this world, or any other.
Distantly, he brushes his thumb along Giorno's lower lip. He's ... so beautiful. And Fugo would like to admit that he wants to see what sort of mess Giorno will fall apart into when he's kissed everywhere, but that would be a little counterproductive to this moment. Later, maybe. When it's his turn to help Giorno with his button.]