[Whining more intently, Pietro squirms as much as he can, every shift of Wash's grip, every hard thrust, making him want both more and less. The kisses are slower, and Pietro gathers the slightest bit more breath in between, Wash moving on to his abused and tender lip, teeth along his jaw. It's a constant assault on senses and nerves, and Pietro loses track of how long it's been. Hours. Minutes. All of Wash's focus is on him, and he can almost feel that in every touch, how honed and zeroed in he is, driving towards something as much as Pietro himself tries to. And knowing that, he gives more of himself over, letting his thoughts slide back, seeking out more of the sensations to focus and individualise, to lose himself in. A conscious decision to voluntarily try breaking into that space he wants to reach, and for a moment, he forgets.]
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