[He whines irritably when Wash grabs his forearm and it drags his concentration back the moment that knife touches his skin again. He can't control his fingers yet, but he all but stops the rest of his movement, twitches here and there, whining in a more pleased way once the blade sinks into his skin and Wash cuts deep enough to spark the hint of pain that gets Pietro's cock to twitch and pulse with heat. He scoffs at the comment through, despite everything else, and his tone is patronising.]
Where did you get that idea?
[Pietro starts moving his bound wrist almost unconsciously, tugging, twisting his fingers, testing how much movement he has to turn his wrist within the rope, and how much he can rub it against the bar of the headboard. His other hand mostly stills, like a switch off, allowing Wash to tie that wrist with little struggle, nothing voluntary. Heat spreads through Pietro's chest over it, a wave of embarrassment at how much he's simply allowing, how much control he's giving up, but in the back of his mind, he knows he can escape. Unless he gets to the point where he's so desperate he can't think straight, he can get out of this too. Whenever he wants, and he doesn't even need to use his teeth. He has less movement in some ways, the restriction different, and he's distracted again by simply feeling that out, squirming and shifting, a mix of frustrated and pleased noises, little whines and growls, as his cock hardens and his abdominal muscles twitch and he's already getting impatient again, trying to move his hips enough to grind against Wash's knees.]
Are we fucking again or not? I do not have all night.
no subject
Where did you get that idea?
[Pietro starts moving his bound wrist almost unconsciously, tugging, twisting his fingers, testing how much movement he has to turn his wrist within the rope, and how much he can rub it against the bar of the headboard. His other hand mostly stills, like a switch off, allowing Wash to tie that wrist with little struggle, nothing voluntary. Heat spreads through Pietro's chest over it, a wave of embarrassment at how much he's simply allowing, how much control he's giving up, but in the back of his mind, he knows he can escape. Unless he gets to the point where he's so desperate he can't think straight, he can get out of this too. Whenever he wants, and he doesn't even need to use his teeth. He has less movement in some ways, the restriction different, and he's distracted again by simply feeling that out, squirming and shifting, a mix of frustrated and pleased noises, little whines and growls, as his cock hardens and his abdominal muscles twitch and he's already getting impatient again, trying to move his hips enough to grind against Wash's knees.]
Are we fucking again or not? I do not have all night.