[ pietro is choking around his tongue and wash keeps kissing him easily, deeply, a little slower now but with no less hunger and need, no less drive and intent to devour him. he could push him over, force him to pass out now, but wash draws him back instead. not fully, still caught up in his arms, legs around his waist, but wash isn't intending to drive him into unconsciousness, at least not just yet.
as pietro sputters back, as he gets more air in his lungs, wash starts to pull back slightly from the kiss. allowing him a little more, here and there, but just like before he'll never be entirely without stimulation, something always going, keeping him permanently on edge. wash's hips are still pressed flush against him, his hips rolling forward to shift inside him even with his softening cock. his hand may no longer be choking him but it's still pressed against his neck, his throat, shifting to knead and press against sharp bruises, forcing his throat to work even in its raw state. his other hand was gripped over his ass, lifting up now as wash shifts to make sure he has pietro's weight braced properly between himself and the wall, it moves up to tangle through his hair. tugging, pulling, forcing his head even further back.
he's waiting, really. drawing this out until pietro shifts and reacts again, in irritation or need or both. sometimes the best way to send someone hurtling into edge is to draw them so so close and then push them back, over and over, until they don't know which side of things they're on anymore. ]
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as pietro sputters back, as he gets more air in his lungs, wash starts to pull back slightly from the kiss. allowing him a little more, here and there, but just like before he'll never be entirely without stimulation, something always going, keeping him permanently on edge. wash's hips are still pressed flush against him, his hips rolling forward to shift inside him even with his softening cock. his hand may no longer be choking him but it's still pressed against his neck, his throat, shifting to knead and press against sharp bruises, forcing his throat to work even in its raw state. his other hand was gripped over his ass, lifting up now as wash shifts to make sure he has pietro's weight braced properly between himself and the wall, it moves up to tangle through his hair. tugging, pulling, forcing his head even further back.
he's waiting, really. drawing this out until pietro shifts and reacts again, in irritation or need or both. sometimes the best way to send someone hurtling into edge is to draw them so so close and then push them back, over and over, until they don't know which side of things they're on anymore. ]