[He feels lazy, like he doesn't have anywhere to be ever again, but his heart is beating fast all the same. It's still overwhelming to be the center of Fugo's attention like this. He's pretty sure, now, that it will always be exactly this overwhelming to be this lucky. Feeling Fugo smile against his skin, the brush of his breath, is the only thing that exists right now, and it's--good. It feels right. Being in love stretches from the horizon of his heart to the horizon of his mind, eclipsing everything else, and he doesn't mind.]

I know you like it when I'm wicked to you.

[He chews his lip a little, grinning at nothing; pulls Fugo tighter, both arms wrapping possessively around his waist.]

I don't want revenge because I'm so happy . . . but if you want me to be wicked, I can still be wicked. I'm pretty good at it.