[It's difficult for Pietro to register everything, each individual sensation, anymore. But he knows Wash is slowing down his movements, bringing that perception back at a time where Pietro is too far gone to think about it. He just feels it, the hard driving thrusts striking places inside him that burn and pulse with pain and pleasure together, that constant pressure at his throat firm and unyielding and controlled, nothing he needs to stop or adjust or come back to the moment to deal with. Pietro continues to drift, aware and not aware, at the edge of either going too far or sliding back to where this state of mind is out of his reach again. Wash keeps him there, and later, he might acknowledge and appreciate it, but he doesn't think of those things now. Doesn't move his wrist when its released, only whines almost unconsciously when Wash squeezes his cock, his hips jerking, a spasm that seems to go through his entire body with the way he's positioned.
He's not sure how long it's been when he does come back, the pull of visceral need at the peak of arousal sharply sliding things back into focus. His whining is louder and he begins to squirm with a desperate intensity, his eyes refocusing on Wash, dark with lust and want, words spilling quickly from his lips.]
no subject
He's not sure how long it's been when he does come back, the pull of visceral need at the peak of arousal sharply sliding things back into focus. His whining is louder and he begins to squirm with a desperate intensity, his eyes refocusing on Wash, dark with lust and want, words spilling quickly from his lips.]
Fuck. Shit. I need to come. Please.
[Fuck, he said 'please' again.]