[Oh. Not good enough at catching up, apparently, not yet--which is fine, really. It's not a bad thing. No, it's . . . nice, actually, because if Giorno wasn't breathless already he would be now, looking at Fugo looking at him like that. It really is like being in an echo chamber, the two of them trading kisses and glances and getting more and more overwhelmed. Except the different between him and Fugo is . . .]
[Well, he doesn't feel the need to hide it. That's the difference. Fugo's all red and covering his mouth, and the glimpse of his mouth, his all of him, leaves Giorno breathing in quick and sharp, a little dizzy. Fugo always gets angry when he says he's cute, so he can't imagine the fuss he'd kick up over a word like pretty. But that's the truth of him all the same.]
I didn't mean to . . . not really . . .
[Maybe a little. Not this much. Except he wants to do it again and worse. He wants that a lot, he thinks, blinking slowly. It's taking him ages for his words to catch up with his brain, but action is easier, so he reaches out to wrap his fingers around Fugo's wrist, to pull it away from his mouth, to see.]
no subject
[Well, he doesn't feel the need to hide it. That's the difference. Fugo's all red and covering his mouth, and the glimpse of his mouth, his all of him, leaves Giorno breathing in quick and sharp, a little dizzy. Fugo always gets angry when he says he's cute, so he can't imagine the fuss he'd kick up over a word like pretty. But that's the truth of him all the same.]
I didn't mean to . . . not really . . .
[Maybe a little. Not this much. Except he wants to do it again and worse. He wants that a lot, he thinks, blinking slowly. It's taking him ages for his words to catch up with his brain, but action is easier, so he reaches out to wrap his fingers around Fugo's wrist, to pull it away from his mouth, to see.]
Come back. You can get revenge, if you want to.