[There's bubbling laughter hidden in his words, not quite allowed to voice itself in the slight space between his lips and Fugo's skin. He grins, mischievous, and when he kisses Fugo's stomach again, he knows Fugo will be able to feel it. And he's happy about that. He wants Fugo to know how pleased he is, how he's pleased because Fugo likes to be teased so much. It's nice. They understand each other in that way, don't they--because Fugo knows now that Giorno likes it just as much the other way, impatient as he can be sometimes. Greedy as he always is.]
[He's greedy now more than ever, but getting that reaction has at the very least tempered his greed just a bit. He's satisfied for the moment, toes curling happily at the insistent need in Fugo's voice. When he glances up and sees Fugo hiding his face away, he hums into the next kiss, because that makes him as happy as it makes him frustrated: he wants to see, but at the same time it's telling, isn't it. Fugo is overwhelmed.]
[That's good. That's what he wanted. Because really, more than anything, what he's greedy for is whatever makes Fugo feel good.]
[So he can't quite stop himself when the urge to tease comes over him again. It's a bit quieter, though; his fingertips come to rest against Fugo's hip, the one that hasn't been bitten or at least not yet, and start those slow circles up again, the ones that made Fugo so restless before. And when he kisses now, it's slower but more thoughtful, his kisses warmer and more drawn out as he tries to memorize what it feels like when Fugo's stomach rises and falls under his mouth. When he bites, it's slower too, but sharper, meant to mark--and sometimes a bite drags into a kiss, his teeth grazing as he shifts and presses something sweet against the sharpness he left before.]
[He's hungry, but content. Greedy, but satisfied. They have all the time in the world, and he likes that, because it means that the only thing defining them in this moment is what the both of them want.]
[Which reminds him. He nips, sharp and playful, just below Fugo's belly button, and glances up at him again.]
I'll do it again. If you want me to. [Just a casual reminder: he will do anything. Even if Fugo's sulking. He wants Fugo sulky as much as he wants Fugo in any other mood.]
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[There's bubbling laughter hidden in his words, not quite allowed to voice itself in the slight space between his lips and Fugo's skin. He grins, mischievous, and when he kisses Fugo's stomach again, he knows Fugo will be able to feel it. And he's happy about that. He wants Fugo to know how pleased he is, how he's pleased because Fugo likes to be teased so much. It's nice. They understand each other in that way, don't they--because Fugo knows now that Giorno likes it just as much the other way, impatient as he can be sometimes. Greedy as he always is.]
[He's greedy now more than ever, but getting that reaction has at the very least tempered his greed just a bit. He's satisfied for the moment, toes curling happily at the insistent need in Fugo's voice. When he glances up and sees Fugo hiding his face away, he hums into the next kiss, because that makes him as happy as it makes him frustrated: he wants to see, but at the same time it's telling, isn't it. Fugo is overwhelmed.]
[That's good. That's what he wanted. Because really, more than anything, what he's greedy for is whatever makes Fugo feel good.]
[So he can't quite stop himself when the urge to tease comes over him again. It's a bit quieter, though; his fingertips come to rest against Fugo's hip, the one that hasn't been bitten or at least not yet, and start those slow circles up again, the ones that made Fugo so restless before. And when he kisses now, it's slower but more thoughtful, his kisses warmer and more drawn out as he tries to memorize what it feels like when Fugo's stomach rises and falls under his mouth. When he bites, it's slower too, but sharper, meant to mark--and sometimes a bite drags into a kiss, his teeth grazing as he shifts and presses something sweet against the sharpness he left before.]
[He's hungry, but content. Greedy, but satisfied. They have all the time in the world, and he likes that, because it means that the only thing defining them in this moment is what the both of them want.]
[Which reminds him. He nips, sharp and playful, just below Fugo's belly button, and glances up at him again.]
I'll do it again. If you want me to. [Just a casual reminder: he will do anything. Even if Fugo's sulking. He wants Fugo sulky as much as he wants Fugo in any other mood.]