[ while pietro will try to hold it over his head wash won't deny how much he's already been drawn in by him, doesn't mind playing into his ego. he is good at this, just looking damn good on his knees or good anywhere else, good with his mouth and tongue and that vibrating touch. pietro may have called him here, a clear sign of the mark that wash has left on him, but wash didn't have to answer or come so immediately. but he did. simply because he wanted to.
he growls low against pietro's mouth when he kisses him back, when he feels those fingers twisting through his hair, when he can feel him grasping at control again, trying to wrench it back even as wash knows he wants it taken away. but that's fine, that's good, because wash thrives at tearing it out from someone's grasp, and he answers by turning his head and pressing deeper, biting down even harder at pietro's lip until he tastes blood. just like before, almost exactly the same place, precise as he can manage it with both of them tangled up in each other.
one hand drops down to pietro's leg, running up his thigh, again squeezing and pressing almost exactly where those bruises used to be -- or still are, some fading slower than others. he slides his hand up to grip roughly over his ass, only stopping so he can actually fist his fingers in the fabric and yank his pants down along with his underwear. once he gets them down far enough, a low sound of want rumbling in his chest and throat, he breaks the kiss. mouthing down over his neck, moving to palm over the bare skin of pietro's thigh instead as he hikes his leg up over his hip.
he knows where those bruises are, every single one, can still perfectly picture pietro trapped against the wall in that room or spread out against the couch, corners of his eyes stained with ears as he struggled and gasped for air. the memory drives him further, sealing his lips over the pulse in his throat and sucking to start leaving new marks all over again. he lets his saliva-slick cock rub against pietro's, his other hand fitting between them briefly to take both of them in his hand, squeezing roughly and giving a few nice rough strokes. but he's impatient, wanting more, wants to feel him and before too long his hand pulls away again as he angles his hips to slide his cock against his hole, rubbing against it, hot and wet. ]
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he growls low against pietro's mouth when he kisses him back, when he feels those fingers twisting through his hair, when he can feel him grasping at control again, trying to wrench it back even as wash knows he wants it taken away. but that's fine, that's good, because wash thrives at tearing it out from someone's grasp, and he answers by turning his head and pressing deeper, biting down even harder at pietro's lip until he tastes blood. just like before, almost exactly the same place, precise as he can manage it with both of them tangled up in each other.
one hand drops down to pietro's leg, running up his thigh, again squeezing and pressing almost exactly where those bruises used to be -- or still are, some fading slower than others. he slides his hand up to grip roughly over his ass, only stopping so he can actually fist his fingers in the fabric and yank his pants down along with his underwear. once he gets them down far enough, a low sound of want rumbling in his chest and throat, he breaks the kiss. mouthing down over his neck, moving to palm over the bare skin of pietro's thigh instead as he hikes his leg up over his hip.
he knows where those bruises are, every single one, can still perfectly picture pietro trapped against the wall in that room or spread out against the couch, corners of his eyes stained with ears as he struggled and gasped for air. the memory drives him further, sealing his lips over the pulse in his throat and sucking to start leaving new marks all over again. he lets his saliva-slick cock rub against pietro's, his other hand fitting between them briefly to take both of them in his hand, squeezing roughly and giving a few nice rough strokes. but he's impatient, wanting more, wants to feel him and before too long his hand pulls away again as he angles his hips to slide his cock against his hole, rubbing against it, hot and wet. ]