[Her eyebrow wiggle is too much, and does earn her a laugh, and another eye roll. They should be talking about it like mature adults, but they don't. He can fuck her, but he can't talk about fucking her, even in the privacy of their apartment. It's euphemisms and implications and half-finished sentences, only more evidence that Pietro's continued flirting with other girls in public holds no real intentions behind it. If it did, he couldn't be so bold about it.]
You know I can stop you.
[Physically, easily. Presumably. He never does, and he's not actually answering Wanda's question, moving right along to focusing on her touch. It lingers, as always, but not to a degree where Pietro feels like his skin is too itchy and constricting and he wants to escape it. Slow traces of her fingers just long enough to drag sparks of electric sensation through nerves, sensations that fade before they're overwhelming. He may shift a little, but there's far less squirming, and his voice holds no hint of whining or discomfort.]
Like that.
[He moves his other foot again, to press against her thigh, meant as a comforting gesture of trust and proof that Wanda isn't upsetting him and he's just lying about it.]
no subject
You know I can stop you.
[Physically, easily. Presumably. He never does, and he's not actually answering Wanda's question, moving right along to focusing on her touch. It lingers, as always, but not to a degree where Pietro feels like his skin is too itchy and constricting and he wants to escape it. Slow traces of her fingers just long enough to drag sparks of electric sensation through nerves, sensations that fade before they're overwhelming. He may shift a little, but there's far less squirming, and his voice holds no hint of whining or discomfort.]
Like that.
[He moves his other foot again, to press against her thigh, meant as a comforting gesture of trust and proof that Wanda isn't upsetting him and he's just lying about it.]