[Pietro lets a frustrated noise settle in the back of his throat for a moment as Wash continues to tease, drag the knife over his throat, to where he'd made the first cut, down over his chest and abdomen, trailing through the drying come. So fucking slow, and so little pressure. He tries not to squirm, but by the end, he's fidgeting in that way where he doesn't know if he wants more or less of it. It ends with a short growl of both disappointment and relief when the knife leaves his skin and Wash leans over him, keeping that pressure on his wrists, that oppressive weight on top of him.
He's aware of every little sound, drawn out and heightened in his spike of apprehension, and he moves slightly, trying to shift over enough to get a look at things before Wash decides he gets to see them. It's pointless and he can't see over the edge of the bed. It doesn't take long at all, but Pietro is almost ready to demand Wash just pull something out of that drawer and get on with it when he finally does. Pietro's only experience with specific bondage rope was that one class, the only time he's seen it, and this is more familiar, a normal length of rope one would have for any number of things. Rougher, thicker, possibly easier to fray and more susceptible to friction, a notion Pietro sets aside for the time being. Wash moves his wrists again, and he watches it from an awkward angle looking above him, even as he inches himself up further on the bed, helping and hating himself for it.
His shift is immediate when Wash undoes the belt, a short burst of motion where Pietro shakes out his hands and squirms to get the stiffness out of his shoulders, but he doesn't pull that hand out of Wash's grip when he gets hold of it, settling down then as much as he can, even if he uses his free hand to poke at and play with everything he can touch, the rope, the headboard, fingers blurred in their quick movements, pulling at things, trying to wedge them underneath the coils of rope being wrapped around his other wrist, completely focused on that and no longer paying attention to Wash.]
no subject
He's aware of every little sound, drawn out and heightened in his spike of apprehension, and he moves slightly, trying to shift over enough to get a look at things before Wash decides he gets to see them. It's pointless and he can't see over the edge of the bed. It doesn't take long at all, but Pietro is almost ready to demand Wash just pull something out of that drawer and get on with it when he finally does. Pietro's only experience with specific bondage rope was that one class, the only time he's seen it, and this is more familiar, a normal length of rope one would have for any number of things. Rougher, thicker, possibly easier to fray and more susceptible to friction, a notion Pietro sets aside for the time being. Wash moves his wrists again, and he watches it from an awkward angle looking above him, even as he inches himself up further on the bed, helping and hating himself for it.
His shift is immediate when Wash undoes the belt, a short burst of motion where Pietro shakes out his hands and squirms to get the stiffness out of his shoulders, but he doesn't pull that hand out of Wash's grip when he gets hold of it, settling down then as much as he can, even if he uses his free hand to poke at and play with everything he can touch, the rope, the headboard, fingers blurred in their quick movements, pulling at things, trying to wedge them underneath the coils of rope being wrapped around his other wrist, completely focused on that and no longer paying attention to Wash.]