[ just like that wash has found the familiar space around pietro again and immediately sliding into it, filling every waiting gap and molding himself around him. whatever it is drove pietro to drink and specifically seek him out and ask to have his hands around his throat, wash doesn't need to know, understands that that kind of information isn't his to take and demand. all that matters is what pietro wants, to be fucked up, to be driven over an edge, to lose himself for a while. and sometimes ( all of the time ), wash craves that too.
pietro remembers too, it would seem, more responsive and willing than before, eager, impatient for what he knows will come. wash keeps kissing him hard and groans into his mouth at the familiar taste of him, a sound that quickly twists into a possessive growl as his fingers twist tighter through his hair. he can feel it when pietro grinds forward, when he locks his muscles tight to will himself to stop, and that's fine. pietro won't be able to help himself before too long. wash's fingers are deft and nimble even now, mostly ignoring pietro's uncoordinated impatient help as he unbuckles his belt, popping open the front of his pants, tugging at the zipper.
wash doesn't hesitate, immediately slipping his hand under the fabric until he's palming roughly over his cock, curving his fingers around him, squeezing tight. not as hard as he's done before, but hard enough for it to hit that line where pleasure bleeds into pain, and the way his fingers immediately shift around him betrays a familiarity here, too. its like he's done this a dozen, a thousand times with him already. and yet.
he breaks away from the kiss with a low growl, mouthing down over the side of his neck, seems to remember exactly where pietro squirmed the most whenever he kissed him here before and going straight bite down into the joint of his neck and shoulder. wash keeps kissing over his neck, his throat, over faded bruises that he knows were there, his hand relaxing and then squeezing again over pietro's cock, and then abruptly pulling his hand free. his grip moves up to his shoulder and with one smooth motion he forces pietro painfully down to his knees, that hand that used to be twisted in his air now braced by the forearm against the brick wall as he leans over him, leaving pietro facing the very noticeable bulge in wash's own jeans.
instead of moving to undo his own belt, however, he instead twists his fingers back through his hair and pull him forward away from the wall, pushing his face against him through the denim, close enough that he can feel the throb of his cock through the material. ]
-- Promise's a promise. [ low, growling. frankly it's criminal he already hasn't had that mouth around his cock. ] Get my cock nice and wet for your ass, Pietro.
no subject
pietro remembers too, it would seem, more responsive and willing than before, eager, impatient for what he knows will come. wash keeps kissing him hard and groans into his mouth at the familiar taste of him, a sound that quickly twists into a possessive growl as his fingers twist tighter through his hair. he can feel it when pietro grinds forward, when he locks his muscles tight to will himself to stop, and that's fine. pietro won't be able to help himself before too long. wash's fingers are deft and nimble even now, mostly ignoring pietro's uncoordinated impatient help as he unbuckles his belt, popping open the front of his pants, tugging at the zipper.
wash doesn't hesitate, immediately slipping his hand under the fabric until he's palming roughly over his cock, curving his fingers around him, squeezing tight. not as hard as he's done before, but hard enough for it to hit that line where pleasure bleeds into pain, and the way his fingers immediately shift around him betrays a familiarity here, too. its like he's done this a dozen, a thousand times with him already. and yet.
he breaks away from the kiss with a low growl, mouthing down over the side of his neck, seems to remember exactly where pietro squirmed the most whenever he kissed him here before and going straight bite down into the joint of his neck and shoulder. wash keeps kissing over his neck, his throat, over faded bruises that he knows were there, his hand relaxing and then squeezing again over pietro's cock, and then abruptly pulling his hand free. his grip moves up to his shoulder and with one smooth motion he forces pietro painfully down to his knees, that hand that used to be twisted in his air now braced by the forearm against the brick wall as he leans over him, leaving pietro facing the very noticeable bulge in wash's own jeans.
instead of moving to undo his own belt, however, he instead twists his fingers back through his hair and pull him forward away from the wall, pushing his face against him through the denim, close enough that he can feel the throb of his cock through the material. ]
-- Promise's a promise. [ low, growling. frankly it's criminal he already hasn't had that mouth around his cock. ] Get my cock nice and wet for your ass, Pietro.