[ wash knows he's getting pietro where he wants. he's barely making any sound now, all of them dying in his throat, bubbling up and sputtering under his grip against his neck, and all the while wash's grip is tight, unfaltering, perfectly steady. his own breathing gets more ragged, just from all of this, and in a way its like he's almost matching pietro's breaths, his racing heartbeat even as he seeks to throttle it out, honing into everything about him and tuning himself as close as possible. it had taken him a while to get so close, last time, but now.
he keeps that rhythm, that repetition itself drawing him into that in-between space, his entire world narrowed to the heat of pietro around his cock and the feel of him pressed between them and the alley wall, everything else around them forgotten. that pressure in him starts to build, and build, and when he finally breaks that rhythm its to break away from that kiss.
wash's hand drops from his ass, palming roughly down over his already newly bruised thighs, fitting between them to pull pietro's hand away from his own cock. he growls, panting heavily, his thrusts faltering just slightly as he shifts to press pietro further against the wall, until pietro's cock is pressed flush against the hard muscle of wash's abdomen, his next thrust pushing his hips up to rub against it even as he moves to pin pietro's hand against the wall.
now wash is just -- watching him. staring at him, his lips wet and swollen from kissing, eyes lidded but his gaze sharp and boring deep. that hand against his throat starts to work slightly, almost kneading at his neck, shifting, adjusting, pushing him closer and closer to that knife's edge and letting him breathe just enough to keep him there. wash's not able to adjust the rest of pietro's body as precisely, anymore, but he's just watching him, drinking in every reaction, every movement, every tiny tic and twitch of his body, and he doesn't say anything, but the promise is there in everything he's doing, every snap of his hips, every throb of his cock when he slams it in deep, his hand locked tight around pietro's wrist as he presses it to the brick. pietro sought him out for this. for this, everything else, and so much more, and wash is ready to give it to him, make him feel so fucking good and so overwhelmed there's nothing else. over and over again. ]
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he keeps that rhythm, that repetition itself drawing him into that in-between space, his entire world narrowed to the heat of pietro around his cock and the feel of him pressed between them and the alley wall, everything else around them forgotten. that pressure in him starts to build, and build, and when he finally breaks that rhythm its to break away from that kiss.
wash's hand drops from his ass, palming roughly down over his already newly bruised thighs, fitting between them to pull pietro's hand away from his own cock. he growls, panting heavily, his thrusts faltering just slightly as he shifts to press pietro further against the wall, until pietro's cock is pressed flush against the hard muscle of wash's abdomen, his next thrust pushing his hips up to rub against it even as he moves to pin pietro's hand against the wall.
now wash is just -- watching him. staring at him, his lips wet and swollen from kissing, eyes lidded but his gaze sharp and boring deep. that hand against his throat starts to work slightly, almost kneading at his neck, shifting, adjusting, pushing him closer and closer to that knife's edge and letting him breathe just enough to keep him there. wash's not able to adjust the rest of pietro's body as precisely, anymore, but he's just watching him, drinking in every reaction, every movement, every tiny tic and twitch of his body, and he doesn't say anything, but the promise is there in everything he's doing, every snap of his hips, every throb of his cock when he slams it in deep, his hand locked tight around pietro's wrist as he presses it to the brick. pietro sought him out for this. for this, everything else, and so much more, and wash is ready to give it to him, make him feel so fucking good and so overwhelmed there's nothing else. over and over again. ]