[Wash pushes the knife in deeper, a sharp shift in direction and trailing slow with consistent pressure down over Pietro's chest, and sparking that level of pain he demanded. Demanded, that's how Pietro is framing it to himself, a demand through begging. He makes a frustrated noise though as Wash lets go of their cocks, ready to complain about it, but doesn't get a chance as Wash strikes him hard. Pietro's abdomen tightens, he sucks in a sharp breath and his nostrils flare as he glares indignantly. He's certainly been hit in the face harder than that, but not slapped, not backhanded like a misbehaving child, and all he feels is utterly incensed and livid. For all of three seconds, when the lasting sting of it, the tender skin he can tell is going to bruise... it makes his cock twitch and his balls ache, and Pietro sucks his bottom lip into his mouth to chew on instead of saying something in protest. Wash has his fingers at his jaw then, pressing hard, smearing precum, looking at him with those intense predatory eyes. Pietro shakes slightly, with anger or fear or something else he can't even identify, and though he continues to say nothing, a brief acknowledgement of that statement flickers in his eyes before he looks away.
He knows what Wash expects from him, and he loathes that one spark inside him that wants to give it to him, wants to please him, that wants to overcome the issue Pietro knows he has, another step in a loss of control that fundamentally frightens him. But he can't do it. His fingers feel hot, burning, and numb at the same time, shaking and flexing and if he could easily abrade his skin like a normal person, his wrists would be bleeding. Those thoughts slip momentarily as Wash bites his lip, a sharp little pain that gets Pietro to refocus. Wash shifts positions, grabbing his thighs and holding him up entirely, braced hard against the wall, rubbing his cock along his ass, and Pietro whines lowly, with some kind of relief and also anticipation, hating himself for shifting his leg to hook around Wash's hip like it comes naturally. He yelps quietly, and that devolves into a genuine mewling as Wash's cock sinks deep, so very very slowly, but persistently. Pietro clenches around it hard, almost violently, as if to take control, overcompensating for the way he still tugs and fidgets with the belt even as he stares at the knife, challenging, and belatedly responds to that dismissal of his feigned plea with a self-satisfied smirk.]
no subject
He knows what Wash expects from him, and he loathes that one spark inside him that wants to give it to him, wants to please him, that wants to overcome the issue Pietro knows he has, another step in a loss of control that fundamentally frightens him. But he can't do it. His fingers feel hot, burning, and numb at the same time, shaking and flexing and if he could easily abrade his skin like a normal person, his wrists would be bleeding. Those thoughts slip momentarily as Wash bites his lip, a sharp little pain that gets Pietro to refocus. Wash shifts positions, grabbing his thighs and holding him up entirely, braced hard against the wall, rubbing his cock along his ass, and Pietro whines lowly, with some kind of relief and also anticipation, hating himself for shifting his leg to hook around Wash's hip like it comes naturally. He yelps quietly, and that devolves into a genuine mewling as Wash's cock sinks deep, so very very slowly, but persistently. Pietro clenches around it hard, almost violently, as if to take control, overcompensating for the way he still tugs and fidgets with the belt even as he stares at the knife, challenging, and belatedly responds to that dismissal of his feigned plea with a self-satisfied smirk.]
Worked though, yes?