He loves hearing Paul's laughter, and there's no time for enough of that either--full-bodied like a damn breaking, little sly chuckles, amused hums. The fine nail-drawn lines on Midoriya's back ache for Paul's hand again. He angles his hips into his touch as Paul repairs his state of dress, exhaling in little sighs at tucks and tugs here and there so close to vulnerable points. Being dressed (or undressed) by someone else leaves behind a distinct shift in sartorial alignment unless one is used to it.

Midoriya still doesn't know about the glitter on his nose, but Paul stands a chance of catching some on his lips. He closes his eyes as Paul kisses him. Midoriya's curls stand on end when tousled. He lets out a soft sound of mild surprise when Paul licks him, but it's lost in his shock at the next merciless betrayal and the sound of his hips reflexively driving Paul's into the door again, just once. His hand tightens in his hair.

"I don't want to be quick," he breathes as he presses his stinging mouth against Paul's. "I'm not done with you."

The thumb of his free hand burnishes the new mark where Paul's skin blooms dark pink over the pulse of life.

"It would be nice to rest after we're all done without having to go home at night. If no one needs the bed, we can ask Kaworu-kun if he'd like to stay."

He thinks it's a big "if." There's alcohol here, and comforts must be ceded to guests first.