[It's more difficult to squirm with her sitting on his hips, but Pietro tries, all the scratches and bruises and his tender hot skin much harder to ignore once he's on his back and he can't get comfortable — which he suspects is part of the point. It's at least keeping his attention. He pulls lightly against her magic rope, just to test things. Every time he moves though, his muscles twitch with the shifting of his cock underneath her, and the urge to do something about it only get stronger when her nails dig into his chest, sparking a hot crackling of nerves that travels down to his abdomen.]
Then you do something about it.
[If he can't touch himself, she has to. It's only fair. Though his tone isn't demanding, falling more into sulking as his fingers twitch and he fidgets, twisting his wrists as if he might slide one easily out of her oddly solid tendrils of magic.]
no subject
Then you do something about it.
[If he can't touch himself, she has to. It's only fair. Though his tone isn't demanding, falling more into sulking as his fingers twitch and he fidgets, twisting his wrists as if he might slide one easily out of her oddly solid tendrils of magic.]