[ he likes those little mewling noises -- and since he first heard them, when they were on the rooftop and he manages to draw an actual desperate please from him to when he had pietro spread out beneath him with his tongue in his ass, wash is angling himself to get more of them. ]
We all say no to things we want, sometimes.
[ not that wash would question or push that that ( except he absolutely, definitely has ). but limits are in themselves freeing. knowing where lies a line that he absolutely cannot cross means he's free to push every other line. and sometimes that's messy. especially for someone like pietro, he can tell, pushing into something without an understanding of what he wants. its unreasonable to expect someone to know everything. a lot of this is discovery, messy and raw, and wash is very, very willing to lean into that.
wash pulls pietro a little as they're walking, closer to his side to neatly sidestep someone they're passing on the street. a slight shift to his hand at pietro's side, and with it another purposeful upward drag of the knife, another bright little spark of surface-level pain. a reward, for staying close, for continuing to talk. ]
You hold back. [ his voice is even lower, quieter, murmured almost straight into his ear with his chin tucked against his hair. pietro may not be pressed against his chest but that rumble, that almost-growl is still clearly audible, clearly felt. ] You're afraid, sometimes.
What of?
[ he doesn't expect fully honest answers from pietro, especially not like this. but he will start to prod at them. ]
no subject
We all say no to things we want, sometimes.
[ not that wash would question or push that that ( except he absolutely, definitely has ). but limits are in themselves freeing. knowing where lies a line that he absolutely cannot cross means he's free to push every other line. and sometimes that's messy. especially for someone like pietro, he can tell, pushing into something without an understanding of what he wants. its unreasonable to expect someone to know everything. a lot of this is discovery, messy and raw, and wash is very, very willing to lean into that.
wash pulls pietro a little as they're walking, closer to his side to neatly sidestep someone they're passing on the street. a slight shift to his hand at pietro's side, and with it another purposeful upward drag of the knife, another bright little spark of surface-level pain. a reward, for staying close, for continuing to talk. ]
You hold back. [ his voice is even lower, quieter, murmured almost straight into his ear with his chin tucked against his hair. pietro may not be pressed against his chest but that rumble, that almost-growl is still clearly audible, clearly felt. ] You're afraid, sometimes.
What of?
[ he doesn't expect fully honest answers from pietro, especially not like this. but he will start to prod at them. ]