[ that's a little different, a little bit new. not entirely, but drawn out more than he's seen it before. the outright praise still gets an instinctive irritation from him. but there is a moment, noticeable, that pietro takes some clear pleasure and almost pride in pleasing him -- even if a moment later, pietro seems to be wrenching himself away from it even as he can't help but moan. wash drinks that in like he does everything else about him, thrives of that little sound, those moments, how that irritated protest bleeds into a wanting whine.
he growls into that kiss, pietro wrestles him for control with it and wash gives as good as he gets, even more. he's tonguing deeper into his mouth and using that hand in his hair to wrench his head back, leaning further over him, forcing his neck to crane uncomfortably, making it physically harder for him to fight back as much through it. he draws his lower lip into his mouth, sucking, tugging with his teeth. finally breaking away after his lungs start to burn, only to immediately mouth down over his throat, his lips and tongue chasing the trickle of blood left there from before, the darkening bruises from the alley.
another nice squeeze over pietro's cock, and he actually pulls his leg back from between pietro's thighs for a moment, just to give himself space to pull his hand away and hook his fingers into the loops of his pants, pull them down completely. he gets them down and tangled around pietro's thighs quickly enough, another tug to have his clothes pool on the floor -- and then he moves to his own belt, his cock uncomfortably hard in his own jeans, mostly neglected this entire time. but in between all of this, his focus on keeping pietro pressed to the wall, on kissing and mouthing brand new bites and bruises all across his neck and jaw -- he undoes his own belt buckle, the front of his pants, and then starts to unthread his belt from the loops. something he's clearly doing with enough deliberateness to let pietro notice it, to see if he makes anything of it. ]
no subject
he growls into that kiss, pietro wrestles him for control with it and wash gives as good as he gets, even more. he's tonguing deeper into his mouth and using that hand in his hair to wrench his head back, leaning further over him, forcing his neck to crane uncomfortably, making it physically harder for him to fight back as much through it. he draws his lower lip into his mouth, sucking, tugging with his teeth. finally breaking away after his lungs start to burn, only to immediately mouth down over his throat, his lips and tongue chasing the trickle of blood left there from before, the darkening bruises from the alley.
another nice squeeze over pietro's cock, and he actually pulls his leg back from between pietro's thighs for a moment, just to give himself space to pull his hand away and hook his fingers into the loops of his pants, pull them down completely. he gets them down and tangled around pietro's thighs quickly enough, another tug to have his clothes pool on the floor -- and then he moves to his own belt, his cock uncomfortably hard in his own jeans, mostly neglected this entire time. but in between all of this, his focus on keeping pietro pressed to the wall, on kissing and mouthing brand new bites and bruises all across his neck and jaw -- he undoes his own belt buckle, the front of his pants, and then starts to unthread his belt from the loops. something he's clearly doing with enough deliberateness to let pietro notice it, to see if he makes anything of it. ]