digiorno | ic inbox ( ruby city ) Ⅲ

[Fugo makes a thoughtful noise, before magnanimously declaring:]

I'll allow you time to think of one. But only if you kiss me in the meantime.

[He very graciously does not remark on on the squeak. But let it be known: it did not go unnoticed. It has been filed away in his memory. It will never be forgotten. It was, after all, incredibly cute. He's... so glad. That he can surprise Giorno in this way; make Giorno so happy that he can't help but make a silly sound.]

[The obvious danger here is, of course, that Giorno will prolong the period of kissing indefinitely while he claims to think of a rebuttal. He chooses not to point that out right now, though. He's too busy being happily infuriated by how smug Fugo is.]

[He likes Fugo smug. It's a good look on him for a lot of reasons, some happy and some sad, none of which he's going to dwell on at this moment. He just--]

[Well. Makes another stupid, sort of strangled sound, before pulling Fugo firmly forward by his tie and kissing him, very soundly. Take that.]

[Oh, no. Giorno has yanked him forward by his tie to kiss him. Whatever is he going to do?

(Which is-- you know, that's nice. He likes the bossiness of the gesture; the way Giorno tugs him forward, to an angle that's maybe not perfect but good enough because that's how much Giorno wants to be kissing him.)

Well. The answer to that is so obvious it's barely even a question. Fugo smiles, leans forward into Giorno's very adamant kiss, and does his best to keep balanced by holding on to Giorno's shoulders with both hands.]

[It's a good kiss. He likes how off-balance Fugo is. He likes how off-balance Fugo's made him, too. The angle of this kiss is good enough, and he has time to make it better. So he does.]

[His fingers find their way into Fugo's hair, because that's what he wants. He lets the hand grabbing Fugo's tie wrap itself up in it, slow and careful, as they kiss, because he wants that, too: to have Fugo close enough, secure enough, that there's no reason for either of them to move away.]

You're right, [is what he says after a bit against Fugo's lips, eyes still closed. Why move? He refuses.] I'm always thinking about kissing you. But I try to be good and let you practice.

[And fucking fails, obviously.]

[As the kiss continues, Fugo doesn't ... quite forget about teasing Giorno. It's more that he puts the thought aside in favor of favor of craning in and finding that perfect angle with Giorno; his fingers twitch and curl in the fabric of Giorno's shirt and he murmurs, helplessly pleased, at the light, ticklish feeling of Giorno's own fingers on the nape of his neck.

Unfortunately, he can't seem to find it again when the kiss ends. He's too caught up in the lingering warmth of Giorno's mouth on his. It's been months--(half a year, he realizes all of a sudden; it's been half a year since that day in October)--since they first started kissing and he's still dazzled by it.]

Hmm? [Oh. Right. He... was teasing Giorno, just a few minutes ago. But that was before he realized that Giorno's hand in his tie was keeping him tethered in place. Not that he needs to. Why would he want to move? Here is good. Here is perfect. Just look at Giorno; how content he looks, how soft and feathery his eyelashes are.] Oh. Well. As long as you try.

[Un......... believable.]

I do.

[He sighs, then opens his eyes wide. So earnest. He isn't trying to tease, he's genuinely so earnest right now, which probably just makes what he's about to say a million times worse. He means it. And that's terrible.]

[Carding his fingers through the hair at the back of Fugo's neck, he nods. Reassuring both of them that, yes, he tries. All the time. But--]

The only thing is that you're--actually irresistible.

[Call........... the police on him.]

[What. What? Wha..at.]

[Over all this time, Fugo has gotten better at reading Giorno's intent; he has a much better grasp on when Giorno is actually teasing him and when Giorni is ... just trying to describe the enormity of his feelings.

Which doesn't make the phrase actually irresistible any less than totally overwhelming. Because it is. If Giorno didn't have such a firm grip on him, he would just fold up in on himself in his fluster.]

Well... that's it. [Because he has nowhere else to hide, really, Fugo tightly closes his eyes. His heart is running a hundred miles a minute and his chest is full of butterflies.] For practice. I won't be able to think about anything but--

[There's no point in finishing that sentence. Giorno knows what he means, so why bother to take the time to say it when they could be kissing again? Fugo closes the gap again, clumsy and embarrassed and without any clever words to back hi up. He's absolutely ruined. Piano just isn't going to happen today.]

[Oh. Fugo is so . . . Giorno sighs, because there aren't words. He's fragile and magnificent and gorgeous and devastating and perfect, and there isn't a word for all of those things. At least not one that he knows. At least not one that he can access right now, due to being so devastated.]

[Even so, he feels a little thrill of victory. He wasn't competing, but he did sort of win by accident. Fugo won't be able to think about anything but him, about what he's said; that's why there's no more piano today. And Giorno feels a little bad for ruining Fugo's plans, and he won't try to make a habit of it or anything, but--]

[It's impossible to mind.]

[He meets Fugo's clumsy kiss with a delighted hum, fingers tightening bossily in his hair again as his other hand settles in at Fugo's hip. He's so happy it's a little ridiculous--pleased with himself for saying it, because he's been thinking it for a while. How hard it is for him to focus on anything else in the world when Fugo is close by, right there for the kissing, not being kissed.]

[He's all dizzy with a knot of good feelings that boil down to Giorno, Giorno, Giorno. Giorno's words, fluttering up through his chest and buzzing around in his thoughts; Giorno's mouth, which is warm and soft and insistent; Giorno's hands, tugging in his hair and pressing at his hip. God. Although he knows, logically, that there are plenty of things to do with Giorno other than kiss that they both enjoy, it's hard to think of any in this particular moment.

Even when the kiss finishes, Fugo can't help himself; he reaches up to cup Giorno's face with both of his hands, smiling hazily, before delicately tipping Giorno's face to one side so he has the best possible angle to leave a trail of soft kisses along his jaw and down his neck while he murmurs affectionate nonsense between them. It's mostly a muffled stream I love you - ti amo - aishiteru, but there's a few new turns of phrase mixed in with it; you're beautiful - so lovely and carino, carino, carino.

Because it's all true. And it's much easier to say when he's not thinking about anything or anyone but Giorno.]

[And that's how Giorno fell off the piano bench.]

[Well, not really. It's a close call, though. There's a lot about this thing that's happening right now that's unexpected. It isn't the kissing, which he's happily used to by now, and it isn't the emotion, although--maybe the relief of honesty has something to do with it after all.]

[The really strange thing is that they are on a stage. Literally on a stage, and that isn't a very Fugo place to kiss, especially not in this particular way, and Giorno is just about to ask him if he's sure this is okay when . . .]

[When Fugo says you're beautiful, and kisses his neck, and in the space before he bites down hard on his lip there's a helpless gasp that he will later probably refuse to acknowledge.]

[It's honestly his own fault. He shouldn't have underestimated Fugo, the cleverest person he knows, who always learns too fast for anyone else's good. But he did, and now here he is, totally overwhelmed by this learning curve and the words pressed against his throat between kisses. It's karma, not being able to think or even breathe because of carino carino carino, but--as usual-- he's not sorry. As he instinctively digs his fingers into Fugo's hip and moves to grab onto shoulder instead of hair so he won't fall, as he tries to squirm closer and tips his head for better access and stubbornly bites his lip, he isn't even the tiniest bit sorry he was wrong this time.]

[Later, Fugo will be pretty embarrassed by his own behavior. They were on a stage. Anyone could have walked in on them. But in this moment, he doesn't want to and frankly can't think about anything or anyone but--]

Giogio, [he sighs, into the crook of his neck.] Giorno.

[In this moment, he could sit on this bench and kiss Giorno's neck... probably forever. He's so close. So warm. So soft. Giorno's grip on his shoulder and at his hip is tight, almost painful; he can feel each fingertip as it digs into his side. The smell of Giorno's fading perfume, floral and sweet, tickles his nose.]

Mm. You smell nice. [He kisses Giorno's neck again, thoughtful. They're all caught up with each other and balanced enough... for now. But there really isn't much room for them together on the bench, even though Giorno has squirmed as close to him as he possibly can get. Not a lot of room for error.] Do... you want to stay here? Or go somewhere else.

. . . Ah?

[There's a question. God, he knows there is, he heard the way Fugo's voice went up at the end of his sentence. But it's so hard to focus. All he can think of is how nice Fugo's voice sounds, the ebb-and-flow roll of syllables that make up his name in Fugo's voice; how nice it feels, those words pressed against his skin. Fugo says he smells nice. Fugo's absolutely destroying him.]

[There's a question. He almost doesn't care. His breath stutters, eyes half-opening to look beyond Fugo at . . . the piano. The stage curtains. He blinks.]

I--

[Can't make decisions while you're doing that. But if he says that, maybe Fugo will stop.]

Don't want you to stop.

[There. That's . . . hm. He murmurs, listening to and letting himself feel Fugo's breathing, one of his favorite natural rhythms in the world. He listens to his own heartbeat, which doesn't know what to do with itself.]

But you're making me so-- If we stay here, I think I'll fall. [A conundrum. He sighs plaintively. He doesn't want to move, but he doesn't want to fall, but he hates the idea of being anywhere but wrapped up in Fugo as he is. This is terrible.]

I don't want you to fall.

[That's ... common sense. But it still feels weird to put into the air in this moment, which doesn't make common sense at all. Fugo lingers where he is, reluctant to leave the delightful curve of Giorno's neck, for a few moments longer. And then, with great regret, begins the journey of kissing back up to Giorno's jawline.]

It's not... really stopping. If we moved somewhere else. [... no, Fugo, that's pretty much the definition of stopping. Which he, very notably, hasn't yet. Rather than pulling away to try and convince Giorno (and himself) of the merits of relocating, he continues to ramble all of this nonsense right where he is.] It's more like-- pausing. I'll come back for my papers later, so we don't have to waste time picking them up. And you could hold onto me while we walked. I just can't carry you. Then I'd fall, probably, which is what we're trying to avoid.

No falling.

[All of his words come out so slow. He knows he should be trying to work on this--conversation they're trying to have, this problem they're trying to solve. But his eyes have fallen shut again with the gentle pressure of Fugo's words breathed against his jaw.]

[His grip eases. A little. For a moment. Then it tightens again, because no, he still might fall.]

You'll keep kissing me when we get there? It's good, I like it a lot. I like everything you're doing.

Yes. Of course. I want to kiss you ev-- [Fugo hesitates, in the middle of a last kiss-- as a promise that, in just a little bit, they can get back to this-- to Giorno's temple. Something's clicked in his head that... no. Maybe he shouldn't say "I want to kiss you everywhere," because if he does he will probably combust in place while walking back home.] Um. Yes, I'll keep kissing you. I want to keep doing that.

[That's a good instinct. They wouldn't get anywhere if Fugo said that out loud, probably; Giorno would start kissing him and refuse to stop, and he'd not only fall off the piano bench but off the stage.]

[Instead, the reassurance soothes him enough to at last loosen his grip. He pulls away, even--not far, but a bit, so that he can look Fugo over. Fugo, who is so beautiful, who's flushed and a little unfocused and who wants to keep kissing him . . .]

[And Giorno kisses him. Just once. It's a sweet kiss, but it's also--well. Giorno's gotten very good at putting all of the feelings he can't verbalize into his kisses in the last six months or so. This kiss is full of love, but also of the simmering warmth he would like to get back to as soon as possible, the reason he's so reluctant to let go.]

[But he can't let it be a long kiss, or they'll linger on the edge of leaving for ages. So after a moment he pulls away and sighs.]

Okay. Okay, let's go, then.

[He bites his lip and stands to go; his eyes catch on the burst of color that is the flower atop the piano, and--oh. He carefully plucks it up and tucks it behind his ear. He can't leave a present behind. They'll have to get the pudding later, though, because he'd absolutely drop it on the way back if he tried to bring it now.]

[Giorno is the most eloquent person Fugo knows. He paints vibrant pictures with his words and weaves patterns, some visible and others not, that guide whoever is listening to him as surely as if Giorno was gently tugging them forward by the hand. In the past six months, those same words have failed him again and again; he's sat flustered, tongue tied, overwhelmed by his own enormous emotions.

And so, the two of them together, have come up with a language that doesn't need words. It's expressed with kisses and little touches; warm smiles, tearful ones, smiles stretched wide with laughter; furtive glances and unbreakable eye contact. Fugo learns a little more of it every day. Of all the languages he knows, this is his favorite to practice.]

[Giorno's kiss means I love you. But at the same time, it's greedy--don't keep me waiting. Fugo's response, relayed through the twitch of his fingers and the way he bites his lip when they part, boils down to soon, soon, soon and there's no one I would rather be with than you.]

[It's with some reluctance that he stands, a heartbeat behind Giorno--he means to link their arms together without hesitation, but the way Giorno tucks the flower in his hair gives him pause. It's ... cute. Wait, more than that--

Giorno is leaving his pudding behind. Which is about as strange, Fugo thinks, as the fact that it honestly doesn't matter much in this moment to leave his sheet music and notes behind. Normally it wouldn't matter that there's no one to see or take note of his mess: leaving a bunch of paper strewn about would make him anxious. But Fugo knows that as soon as they walk out the door, he'll forget them in favor of the feeling of Giorno's hand in his and the promise of a kiss just a few moments in the future.]

Let's hurry. But carefully.

[So they don't trip, or something. That would be unbelievably stupid.]

[Giorno slides his hand into Fugo's and laces their fingers together. He's feeling . . . shy isn't the right word. Not exactly. But as he leads them down off the stage and out of the theater towards home, he tries to sort through what he's feeling exactly, what it means, where one feeling ends and the next begins.]

[He does this not because he needs to, but because he wants to. He likes the complexity of what he's feeling and doesn't want to dissect it completely or particularly scientifically. But he needs something to think about as they walk besides the phantom pressure of Fugo's lips against his throat, or wondering whether Fugo finds the thumb brushing the back of his hand soothing or distracting or something else.]

[There's a part of him that's worried about vanity--which is probably surprising. He liked it so much when Fugo said what he said (exceptionally cute, so lovely, carino carino carino), and maybe that's vain, maybe it's terrible, maybe . . . But Fugo liked it too. So it probably isn't terrible at all.]

[He squeezes Fugo's hand and glances at him out of the corner of his eye. He can't quite maintain eye contact, though. This is a sweet and soft silence, and he feels comfortable in it, but there's heat prickling his cheeks and the back of his neck, and he's a little worried that if he looks at Fugo for too long his heart will beat out of his chest.]

[For the record: it's all three. It's very for Fugo to think at all, much less clearly, when Giorno's thumb is brushing back and forth over his hand. It's a wonderfully soothing and terribly distracting gesture all on its own, but everything they just shared makes the feeling--brighter. More intense. It makes him feel warm all over, even though it's such a little thing.

Because even though home is just a few moments away, Giorno can't bear to spend those few moments not touching him; holding hands isn't enough for him. He's so greedy. But, when Giorno's greedy like this--

It makes Fugo feel like it's okay for him to be greedy, too. It's okay to want to touch and be touched by Giorno. It's okay for Fugo to take up Giorno's time and space in his life; they can leave behind everything else to spend a lazy while kissing in bed. It's okay for him to spend the night, it's okay for him to lean on Giorno's shoulder, it's okay for him to reach out and take his hand. It's okay for him to want more than he thinks he deserves to have. It's okay for him to just be with Giorno.]

[It's a good thing Giorno is leading the way. When he peeks over at Fugo, what he'll see isn't so different from what he saw at the theater: Fugo is warm and rosy all over, unfocused, with his hair disheveled from Giorno's fingers and his tie no longer sitting perfectly around his neck. He didn't think to fix those things. He's focused, as much as he can be, on just getting home so he doesn't have to think about anything or anyone else but Giorno.]

[Interminable as the walk home seems, it really doesn't take that long at all. Ruby City isn't big enough to make it a truly agonizing walk, just mildly annoying. Plus, Giorno has the luxury of sneaking glances at what he personally considers to be the prettiest thing in the city, so it's not too much of a hardship.]

[He'll have to tell Fugo sometime that he likes him like this. Messy and not particularly concerned with neatening up. It's hard to make words happen right now, though, and anyway he doesn't want to. He'll just look and appreciate, and words can come later, maybe.]

[It's the middle of the day, and no one's home when they get back--or at least no one is between them and the stairs, or the top of the stairs and Giorno's room. Giorno isn't rushing, exactly, but his impatience is more palpable by now in the way he squeezes Fugo's hand every few moments, as if to emphasize they've almost completed their arduous journey.]

[And then, of course, once the door is closed behind them, he doesn't waste any time in turning around and kissing Fugo. That impatience is still very much presence in this kiss, but it's quicker and sweeter--more an expression of relief than anything else.]

Ti amo, [he says, his hands coming up to fuss with Fugo's tie--well, not fuss. He's undoing it. He's putting it out of its misery. He likes undoing Fugo's tie anyway.]

[Thank God no one's home. He and Giorno aren't sneaking around; they've never been, even when they were quieter about all of this. Dating stuff. But Fugo is plainly relieved that there's no one around to look at them with a knowing smile as they very pointedly, very quickly, very obviously head upstairs and make a beeline for Giorno's bedroom. But the relief is honestly overwhelmed by a beat of excitement each time Giorno squeezes his hand.

Almost there. Nearly there. Just a few more steps.]

[He's not surprised at all by the way Giorno pushes forward to kiss him. That's why he didn't turn around to close the door; instead, he reached behind him to push it into place with the palm of his left hand. This leaves his right hand free to reach out and pull Giorno in by the waist to expedite the kiss he can see Giorno leaning in for. The kiss is bright, sweet, and altogether too quick. But Fugo's willing to let it slide, because Giorno's hands are currently occupied with unknotting his tie.]

I love you. [Fuck. Wait. He needs both of his hands, doesn't he? To shrug his jacket off. Fuck it, he'll just work on the left shoulder first and deal with the right in a moment. He doesn't want to let go of Giorno; since Giorno is busy with Fugo's tie, it's up to him to steer them to the bed.] Since you're there. Mind getting the buttons?

[There's a note of humor in his voice and the quirk of his smile--but it's a very serious question. Giorno never minds getting his buttons. Fugo knows that Giorno is particularly weak to the temptations of unbuttoning His Boyfriend's pajama shirts, which really aren't that different from the nicely pressed shirt he's currently wearing. It's not the sort of question Fugo would pose to Giorno if he were at all opposed to the idea of unbuttoning his shirt.]

[Oh. Giorno's expression brightens, and then he grins--bright, wide, and mischievous. He finishes undoing Fugo's tie, tugs it so both ends hang down evenly (as much as he'd rather throw it on the ground dramatically, Fugo is far too fussy to allow that), and pulls him forward by the ends for another kiss.]

[This one's different. Honestly the best way to describe this kiss, sweet as it still is, is flirty. It lingers as Giorno seems terribly reluctant to pull away entirely; his hands come up to frame Fugo's face, he allows himself the indulgence of letting his teeth lightly graze Fugo's lower lip, and then . . .]

[Sigh. And then he pulls away just a little, and smiles up at Fugo, and runs his hands down Fugo's jaw and neck and collar until his fingers snag on the top button of Fugo's shirt.]

Okay.

[He is very happy too, and busies himself with this task immediately. Unbuttoning someone else's buttons is one of his newer very favorite things. It's like opening a warm, cute present. His lip catches in his teeth as he works, delighted and focused and anticipating.]

[Giorno's face lights up, in a way that reminds Fugo of the way his bedroom with its east-facing windows in Buccellati's apartment would fill up with sunlight in the early morning. It's pretty dazzling. Which is why he ends up with his jacket only half shrugged off of his shoulders when Giorno neatly adjusts the ends of his ties and then pulls him forward for a Kiss.

Not just a kiss. A capital K-i-s-s. With just a little teeth and Giorno's palms cupping his cheeks. That's very dazzling. There's no recovery time, either; because then Giorno's hands trail down his jaw, feather-light, and brush along his neck til they reach their final destination of shirt. And buttons. The whole process leaves Fugo shivery with anticipation; the hand on Giorno's waist twitches, fingers curling to catch in the fabric of Giorno's shirt.]

Thanks. You're very... gracious. [He means to tease a little. But the delivery ends up a little too vague for that. Fugo smiles, soft and twitchy all at once, pleased by the results of his request--and by the smile on Giorno's face, especially the way he bites his lip because he really is that delighted to help Fugo with his buttons.] How can I ever repay you?

[Another question he knows the answer to. With a kiss, probably. That sounds like the sort of thing Giorno would charge for his unbuttoning services.]

[Giorno always takes his time with buttons. That's part of the fun, drawing out the anticipation of the action. So it takes longer than it might if he were truly hurrying as he undoes one button at a time, terribly focused on every brand-new inch of skin.]

[As a result, it takes a moment for him to register Fugo's voice, much less the question. His eyes flick up to meet Fugo's, and--ah. It's that look. Fugo seems to be getting more use of it lately, but he still really doesn't understand, Giorno's sure, the effect it has. That mischievous smugness. It makes his heart fall out of rhythm and his knees weak. It makes it nearly impossible to think of anything but kissing Fugo.]

[Honestly, that look alone would be repayment enough. But that's already been offered for free, so no. He'll come up with something else. A kiss. Or--]

[He bites his lip again, spreads his palm and all five fingers across Fugo's chest. He considers this for a moment, his skin against Fugo's. It looks good. Fugo is very warm. It makes him smile, a little hazy, as he leans in to very-nearly-but-not-quite press his lips to Fugo's. Almost.]

How would you most like to repay me?

Well, I'd like to kiss you. [Fugo admits this in a very matter-of-fact sort of way, because it is. That's what he's wanted to do this whole time: kiss Giorno without having to worry about either of them falling of a piano bench that's really too small for two people, or someone interrupting them, or anything getting in the way of more kissing. It's tremendously hard not to just-- close the tiny, millimeter wide gap between them. Talking seems awfully silly.] But I've already promised you that. Several times over, actually.

[Fugo shimmies his shoulders, finally managing to get the rest of his jacket off. He pulls his hand briefly away from Giorno's waist, just long enough to fold the jacket up and leave it hanging... somewhat precariously over the arm of a nearby chair. That sits where it does by the bed for this exact reason, because he and Giorno both know he really can't ignore clothes lying on the floor.]

Unless-- ...

[Fugo trails off. He's half thoughtful and half shy at this point, because he knows how he wants to follow that statement up. But he's not quite sure he has the guts to say it. He glances down at Giorno's hand through his lashes and then, very fussily, spends a moment fiddling with the buttons on his cuffs. By the time he has them unfastened he's worked up the courage to look at Giorno again; with great exactness he reaches to lightly rest the fingers of of one hand on the nape of Giorno's neck, tangling his fingers up in Giorno's loose hair. The other rests over Giorno's hand to just ... hold it there, for a little while, against his chest. God, does he love the feeling of Giorno's hands on him.]

I make the first one very special. [He bites his lip.] If that's not enough, tell me and--

[I'll figure something out is what the rest of that sentence was supposed to be but, no, he just can't. Not when Giorno is so close and Fugo wants to kiss him so badly. So he does, finally; presses forward with his whole body, intent and yearning and tremendously emotional. It was a good idea to come back home, it's fun to tease, but all of that took up so much time. And this is a much better use of those seconds, honestly.]

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