[ pietro might not actually be able to talk but wash thinks he could almost hear him with that indignant glare to his eyes, that irritation. he makes some quiet sound, almost amused, but that quickly twists into a groan as pietro gains enough of himself to move, to work his tongue over his cock and suck over him, that pressure on his balls. and then that damn speed, that vibration, the same thing he knows he can do with his hands. a shudder runs through the length of his spine, a deep heat twisting in him in response to that sensation, something he's never quite felt before, the wet heat of pietro's mouth and the warm undulating pressure of his tongue, the scrape and pressure of his teeth as he bites along with the vibration of it.
wash gathers himself quickly enough, fingers twisting even harder through his hair. as much as he's entertained by pietro's arrogance, he does want to rip it from him -- and he knows why he's here. that's too much choice, too much conscious thought. whatever drove pietro to down that entire bottle of brandy and want to be fucked with wash's hands around his throat, pietro doesn't want to be thinking through any of that. and wash can and will drive him there.
both of his hands twist through the strands of his hair and force his head down, accompanied by a sharp thrust of his hips, another shudder running through him when his cock slides over that vibrating tongue and straight down his throat. this time it's clear he's aiming to make him choke and gag. he starts to fuck his mouth, again, hard sharp thrusts with his vicelike grip pulling on his hair and keeping his head in place, and this time he eventually lets one hand slide down, fingers curving under his jaw, down towards his neck and throat. he can feel it under his fingers, whenever he hilts himself in his mouth, and and he lets his touch just barely start to ease a bit more pressure against his throat. strategic applications, here and there, both to make him struggle more when he fucks himself especially deep but also just to feel the way his throat locks and gags. a reminder of what's to come, for the rest of his promise. ]
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wash gathers himself quickly enough, fingers twisting even harder through his hair. as much as he's entertained by pietro's arrogance, he does want to rip it from him -- and he knows why he's here. that's too much choice, too much conscious thought. whatever drove pietro to down that entire bottle of brandy and want to be fucked with wash's hands around his throat, pietro doesn't want to be thinking through any of that. and wash can and will drive him there.
both of his hands twist through the strands of his hair and force his head down, accompanied by a sharp thrust of his hips, another shudder running through him when his cock slides over that vibrating tongue and straight down his throat. this time it's clear he's aiming to make him choke and gag. he starts to fuck his mouth, again, hard sharp thrusts with his vicelike grip pulling on his hair and keeping his head in place, and this time he eventually lets one hand slide down, fingers curving under his jaw, down towards his neck and throat. he can feel it under his fingers, whenever he hilts himself in his mouth, and and he lets his touch just barely start to ease a bit more pressure against his throat. strategic applications, here and there, both to make him struggle more when he fucks himself especially deep but also just to feel the way his throat locks and gags. a reminder of what's to come, for the rest of his promise. ]