[ the venom in that voice. wash can't blame him for that, he supposes, given that he has just driven a knife into his shoulder, given that he's seemed to assume that many things wash says are meant to mock him, make him feel weak. there's little he can do about that to change pietro's mind. perhaps with time he might understand what he's been trying to do better.
for now, though, pietro isn't running away, or trying to get away. still trapped there against the wall, shifting uncomfortably, looking back at him but not at him. he makes some quiet sound, his other hand finally lifting from his shoulder after one last squeeze, the bleeding mostly stemmed, his palm and his fingers wet with pietro's own blood as he lifts them to skirt along his jawline. his thumb brushes over his lower lip, bruised and bitten from their time in the alley, still an echo of the time before, and wash shifts his weight enough to ease that thigh up between his legs again, knee still pushed against the wall. the flat of the blade is still tucked under his chin, metal cool to the touch but slightly warmed from blood and body heat. ]
Do you want to go?
[ a direct question. there isn't any mocking in his tone, though wash knows pietro might hear it that way, anyway -- but while wash might prefer to think otherwise, he knows there's a bit of a challenge in it. wash's quiet concern here is genuine, but there's still that flicker of arousal, hunger, want in his eyes. he certainly wouldn't blame pietro from just wanting to leave, now. but he's here. ]
no subject
for now, though, pietro isn't running away, or trying to get away. still trapped there against the wall, shifting uncomfortably, looking back at him but not at him. he makes some quiet sound, his other hand finally lifting from his shoulder after one last squeeze, the bleeding mostly stemmed, his palm and his fingers wet with pietro's own blood as he lifts them to skirt along his jawline. his thumb brushes over his lower lip, bruised and bitten from their time in the alley, still an echo of the time before, and wash shifts his weight enough to ease that thigh up between his legs again, knee still pushed against the wall. the flat of the blade is still tucked under his chin, metal cool to the touch but slightly warmed from blood and body heat. ]
Do you want to go?
[ a direct question. there isn't any mocking in his tone, though wash knows pietro might hear it that way, anyway -- but while wash might prefer to think otherwise, he knows there's a bit of a challenge in it. wash's quiet concern here is genuine, but there's still that flicker of arousal, hunger, want in his eyes. he certainly wouldn't blame pietro from just wanting to leave, now. but he's here. ]