[ wash wants to push hm further. to break through it, to break him, to see him shatter and fall apart and to pick up every piece -- but that takes patience, time, something that pietro himself may lack but wash has in abundance. there are things that wash could force if he really put his mind to it, and in certain times, with certain people, he has. but with this. he wants pietro to want it, to know he wants it, to want to be broken, to specifically want wash to do it. and they can get there. with time. with care. with guidance.
right now, though. this is good. more than good. just the two of them and the intensity of skin on skin and the way pietro whimpers as if he's starting to drown in wash's attentions, in his presence alone, how he wraps his legs around him, eager as he guides his cock to his hole. wash lets him, and he waits, waits until pietro actually says something, puts voice to what he wants.
and at those words, he immediately presses forward, his hips pressing down -- and his cockhead is pressed against his hole, suddenly inside him, sliding into him all too easily and all at once, already hilted inside of him, his balls flush to his ass, pietro already nice and stretched from everything else they've done tonight. it feels good, enough to draw a low rumbling groan from his throat that he half-muffles against his neck, feels almost like he belongs here, like pietro fits fucking perfectly around him, and god, that always feels so good.
pietro is impatient, he knows. and wash will give him what he wants. he's impatient, too, was buried in him just before and had to pull out suddenly -- and now he's back with his heat and warmth all around his cock and he just wants more of it. that predatory hunger sharpens through him again as he immediately starts to move, fucking him down against the mattress, his grip tightening over pietro's wrist where he has it pinned to the bed. his other hand moves down, squeezing roughly over his thigh, thumb pressing into those numerous sharp cuts he'd left with his knife even as wash lets his mouth kiss down over his throat, his collarbones, tonguing over the lines he'd drawn there before, neatly avoiding the one place where the knife had gone too deep. ]
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right now, though. this is good. more than good. just the two of them and the intensity of skin on skin and the way pietro whimpers as if he's starting to drown in wash's attentions, in his presence alone, how he wraps his legs around him, eager as he guides his cock to his hole. wash lets him, and he waits, waits until pietro actually says something, puts voice to what he wants.
and at those words, he immediately presses forward, his hips pressing down -- and his cockhead is pressed against his hole, suddenly inside him, sliding into him all too easily and all at once, already hilted inside of him, his balls flush to his ass, pietro already nice and stretched from everything else they've done tonight. it feels good, enough to draw a low rumbling groan from his throat that he half-muffles against his neck, feels almost like he belongs here, like pietro fits fucking perfectly around him, and god, that always feels so good.
pietro is impatient, he knows. and wash will give him what he wants. he's impatient, too, was buried in him just before and had to pull out suddenly -- and now he's back with his heat and warmth all around his cock and he just wants more of it. that predatory hunger sharpens through him again as he immediately starts to move, fucking him down against the mattress, his grip tightening over pietro's wrist where he has it pinned to the bed. his other hand moves down, squeezing roughly over his thigh, thumb pressing into those numerous sharp cuts he'd left with his knife even as wash lets his mouth kiss down over his throat, his collarbones, tonguing over the lines he'd drawn there before, neatly avoiding the one place where the knife had gone too deep. ]