[ pietro's fingers shake and wash's grip tightens. its not enough to force him to stop, but that's clearly the intent -- and wash is partially doing it just to see how he'd respond, if he'd even notice, if part of him might quiet the shaking or if he'd try to push back. ]

You'd still be able to move. Maybe we can work up to that over time. [ a promise in those words, curving into a rumbling growl, that want in his expression clear. he knows of course that pietro had given him a line, i need to move, and he intends on respecting it -- but it's still a whisper of something, an echo of the for now he'd given him when he set aside that other knife. slowly he lifts pietro's wrists in his grip again, pulls them up over his head, pushing his body back down against the mattress until he has pietro's wrists pinned to the sheets, his arms outstretched over his head. wash is bearing down over him, again, his knees still neatly between pietro's thighs, lifting the knife to tap the tip of it lightly against his jaw. very purposefully giving pietro the time to look at him above him, to maybe imagine briefly what it really might be like to have wash bind him so tightly he couldn't move an inch. ] But right now, I can just make it much, much harder for you to get out of this.

[ his fingers ripple over the belt wrapped around petro's wrists. bite marks in that leather, now. that'll be an interesting one to explain to people. wash likes restraining people, has a few things up his sleeve -- rope, silk, cuffs, and not the kind for play, had gone out of his way to find something that even a slippery fucker like felix couldn't just pick or break his way out of. heavy duty, not exactly easy to chew through. maybe pietro still could anyway, but much like how pietro didn't chew straight through his belt. that's not the point. and he thinks that on some level, deep down, maybe without entirely realizing it, pietro is starting to understand that. ]