[Oh. He does love it when Giorno holds him like this. He feels secure in the best of ways, positioned perfectly to be as close as he can get to Giorno. Fugo shifts and rearranges himself so he can reach out to hold Giorno's face with both of his hands, thumbs fondly brushing the curves of his cheeks.]

I like you, too. I like it, so much, when you hold onto me like this. [When... they talk like this, every word is like an almost kiss. That's so many almost kisses. How many almost kisses does it take to add up to a whole kiss? He will have to investigate this math at a later time, because right now this realization makes his spine feel as sturdy as a piece of string.] I like being yours. And I like that you're mine.