( he doesn’t ease up, with bucky’s caged animal behavior. he keeps the pressure just so, until he relaxes some, and then he pushes him further, tightening his grip. it does reach a bruising point, now — not battered or enough to break bone, but enough to push a stain onto the skin, vaguely in the shape of ash’s fingers. a bracelet, for bucky to wear.

the curiosity has ash nodding his head knowingly. he’s not ashamed to admit his desires — he knows they’re dark, unconventional, and more than a little troubling. but ash has never had an issue being exactly who he is, ultimately treasuring the notion of blatant honesty more than all else. )

Tied me up. Ropes, chains, and tape. I’ve been beaten, whipped, flogged, caned. Spanked. ( he doesn’t imagine bucky will stop him at any point and say yes sir, that one please, but he does keep an open mind for interest. ) Fucked with toys. Cock cages. Pierced, cut, bruised, burned. You’d have an easier time asking what I had no interest in at all.

( because the answer would be nothing. all of a sudden his grip loosens completely, and he’s back to holding bucky’s wrist gently, soothingly, made all the more comfortable by the knowing threat of violence that lingers just under the surface. )

… And after. I’ve had my welts soothed and my cuts kissed. My body put back to rights. ( his opposite hand moves over, turning bucky’s hand around so he can touch careful fingertips against the sensitive skin of his wrist. oddly — blemish free. huh. ) I couldn’t tell you what it’s supposed to feel like. It never really worked for me. But it was necessary to learn all the safe, right ways to hurt another person. I can explain what that feels like. How good it is, to see someone satiated and made peaceful by something you did for them, when they put their body in your hands.

It’s like magic. There’s nothing in the world that compares.