[ he's heard you beg sweeter than that, pietro. and honestly, if he put enough effort into making it sound nice, whether or not he means it, wash might let him get away with it -- he's a patient man, willing to make progress like water wearing down a stone. but for as much as there is a little mewl to the sound, pietro can't help but sound sarcastic, but not take it seriously. afraid of asking for what he wants, of admitting what he wants, unhappy with wanting it -- all of the above, something else, wash still isn't clear. but either way.
there's no hesitation to it. wash presses the knife in where it currently is, tip resting paused over his chest, at the end of that line stopped close to his nipple. the knife turns sharply, pulls a line straight vertically down over his pec, just at the right pressure, the right depth that pietro wants it at. at the same time, wash lifts his hand from their cocks, wet and sticky, and just slaps him. hard, across the face with the back of his hand, hard enough for the sound to ring and crack through the air, letting it linger for a while before reaching out to grab him by the chin, thumb slick with pre as he presses it into the hinge of his jaw. he forces pietro back to look at him, again, his eyes wanting and watching as always. ]
Only counts when you mean it.
[ he did give him a touch of what he wants, anyway, more than that even with the slap -- intentional. a hint of pain and reward but still a punishment, enough to make it clear that wash wants more than that, expects more than that. pietro clearly finds some comfort in movement, in being able to escape a situation when he wants, has always chafed against the ways in which wash could hold him in place and hold him down, but there was some thrill in it for him, too, wash could tell. something he liked, even if he may not know it, even if he may hate it. so what this is is a taste of it, a small hint of that restraint, wash trying to push him to let go enough to accept it and the helplessness that comes with it even if it's just by distracting him with sensation everywhere else.
a bite to his lip -- the knife lifts, his arms shift. one more roll of his hips to rub his cock against him, except this time his arms are hooking under his legs, his thighs, lifting him wholly into his arms again. he lets his weight stay braced against the wall with pietro's wrists still bound together behind his head, that one roll of his hips suddenly easing his cock wetly through his crease instead, rutting against his ass, just over his hole. a few moments to make sure he's held steadily in his arms, and -- he doesn't actually wait, or make him beg again. he's all but dropping him onto his cock, throbbing cockhead pushing against his hole and then pushing inside him, stretching him open around him. he shudders on a low, rumbling groan as he hilts himself into his ass again, adjusting his weight to shove him against the wall, to hike up one leg further over his waist -- and to free up that hand with the knife. previously tucked neatly against his palm so he could use his hand, again spinning a little between his fingers before the grip lands back in his hand.
there's a pause now, as he adjusts to the new position, as he makes sure he's steady, but between everything. his cock buried in pietro's ass, their bodies pressed close together, the knife glinting in his hand. its clear that he fully intends to overwhelm him with sensation again, a thousand things for him to focus on until the restraints are just another one of them to fade into the back of his mind. ]
no subject
there's no hesitation to it. wash presses the knife in where it currently is, tip resting paused over his chest, at the end of that line stopped close to his nipple. the knife turns sharply, pulls a line straight vertically down over his pec, just at the right pressure, the right depth that pietro wants it at. at the same time, wash lifts his hand from their cocks, wet and sticky, and just slaps him. hard, across the face with the back of his hand, hard enough for the sound to ring and crack through the air, letting it linger for a while before reaching out to grab him by the chin, thumb slick with pre as he presses it into the hinge of his jaw. he forces pietro back to look at him, again, his eyes wanting and watching as always. ]
Only counts when you mean it.
[ he did give him a touch of what he wants, anyway, more than that even with the slap -- intentional. a hint of pain and reward but still a punishment, enough to make it clear that wash wants more than that, expects more than that. pietro clearly finds some comfort in movement, in being able to escape a situation when he wants, has always chafed against the ways in which wash could hold him in place and hold him down, but there was some thrill in it for him, too, wash could tell. something he liked, even if he may not know it, even if he may hate it. so what this is is a taste of it, a small hint of that restraint, wash trying to push him to let go enough to accept it and the helplessness that comes with it even if it's just by distracting him with sensation everywhere else.
a bite to his lip -- the knife lifts, his arms shift. one more roll of his hips to rub his cock against him, except this time his arms are hooking under his legs, his thighs, lifting him wholly into his arms again. he lets his weight stay braced against the wall with pietro's wrists still bound together behind his head, that one roll of his hips suddenly easing his cock wetly through his crease instead, rutting against his ass, just over his hole. a few moments to make sure he's held steadily in his arms, and -- he doesn't actually wait, or make him beg again. he's all but dropping him onto his cock, throbbing cockhead pushing against his hole and then pushing inside him, stretching him open around him. he shudders on a low, rumbling groan as he hilts himself into his ass again, adjusting his weight to shove him against the wall, to hike up one leg further over his waist -- and to free up that hand with the knife. previously tucked neatly against his palm so he could use his hand, again spinning a little between his fingers before the grip lands back in his hand.
there's a pause now, as he adjusts to the new position, as he makes sure he's steady, but between everything. his cock buried in pietro's ass, their bodies pressed close together, the knife glinting in his hand. its clear that he fully intends to overwhelm him with sensation again, a thousand things for him to focus on until the restraints are just another one of them to fade into the back of his mind. ]