[Pietro doesn't give as much attention to Wash's reactions as he would normally, trying to figure him out or take small victories at each growl or moan or pleased noise. They fade into the background over his own perceptions, the taste of Wash's cock, the awkward position of his jaw that he wants to snap shut, how his tongue cradles the head almost automatically, that sharp pull on his hair that makes him moan softly. Pietro huffs out an irritated noise at that question, but he knows it's obvious from the way he's handling things that he's never even attempted to suck someone's cock before. Wash's voice lowers and that Pietro pays attention to, the possessiveness and blatant arousal in his tone, but what he says has Pietro sucking in a sharp breath through his nose and grazing his teeth on Wash's cock again. Oh, I do. I look very good on my knees. Is that what you want? He squirms uncomfortably, whining in the back of his throat as he recalls words he'd spoken himself, arrogant and full of pride and challenge, but it's exactly where he is now, and Wash's appreciation of his position makes him both loathe himself and scrape together remnants of that pride over it, and Pietro hates himself even more for that.
Wash takes his hand and Pietro lets him move it to his thigh, where he presses his fingers somewhat firmly against hard muscle. They vibrate on and off a couple of times, then still as much as they had been, little tremors. His breathing is too fast and he does make attempts to suck in air through his mouth as Wash yanks on his hair again, making him choke down a moan before he thrusts forward, deep, without pause, and Pietro's throat works reflexively as he whines around that intrusion, sliding over his tongue and partially down his throat so fucking slowly. He keeps his hand mostly steady at Wash's thigh, the other gripping far too tight at his own. He struggles to breathe, gagging and choking almost violently at first before the sounds come less harshly, and he releases frustrated and irritable high pitched whines as his eyes water. But it's working. Pietro's thoughts have ceased to exist beyond what's happening to him right now, consumed by every new sensation and point of stimulation of pain or discomfort. And part of him revels in it.]
no subject
Wash takes his hand and Pietro lets him move it to his thigh, where he presses his fingers somewhat firmly against hard muscle. They vibrate on and off a couple of times, then still as much as they had been, little tremors. His breathing is too fast and he does make attempts to suck in air through his mouth as Wash yanks on his hair again, making him choke down a moan before he thrusts forward, deep, without pause, and Pietro's throat works reflexively as he whines around that intrusion, sliding over his tongue and partially down his throat so fucking slowly. He keeps his hand mostly steady at Wash's thigh, the other gripping far too tight at his own. He struggles to breathe, gagging and choking almost violently at first before the sounds come less harshly, and he releases frustrated and irritable high pitched whines as his eyes water. But it's working. Pietro's thoughts have ceased to exist beyond what's happening to him right now, consumed by every new sensation and point of stimulation of pain or discomfort. And part of him revels in it.]