FIC: Suitor (1/1) HIMYM
Title: Suitor
Summary: Barney finally gets Ted in a suit, but then he can't keep his hands off of him.
Rating/Warnings: X - adult - M/M smut
Written for: authormichals who posted this prompt on the HIMYM Anon Kink meme.
Word Count: 1,082
Fandom/Pairing: HIMYM: Barney/Ted
Spoilers: Up to Season 5, Girls vs Suits
It's Barney's stillness that Ted notices first. Because normally, in the times when he graces them with his presence (or so he probably thinks), Barney is a man in motion. He shifts fluidly, he paces the floor, he waves his arms, he orates expansively. Barney pulls everyone's attention towards him like a very dense, very tiny heavenly body, and then he spins you all about.
Barney is a man who is always on the move.
So when he sits, unblinking and unmoving, his breathing silent and shallow, it's eerie. It bugs Ted's subconscious for long minutes before he recognizes the problem.
Everything is there in Barney's wide, blue-eyed stare.
When his best friend reaches out a tentative hand to touch him- no, not touch, stroke- when Barney reaches out to stroke Ted's arm just below the shoulder, Ted takes his fingers and pushes them back, out of his orbit, back into a safe space. He doesn't expect Barney to try it again.
But he does. Snuffling slightly, like an animal who's driven by instinct, by some primal need, Barney leans in, fingers curling around Ted's bicep, his face pressing against the fabric of his suit jacket.
It's then that Ted realizes what's going on. The suit! It's the suit Barney wants, not him. That's the reason he's pawing him, like a kitten trapped out in the rain, scratching at a screen door to be let in.
There's definitely something kittenish about the way Barney rubs his nose against Ted's arm.
"Dude!" Ted complains, shoving him back. Barney gives him a look of silent reproach but, undaunted, he leans in again and turns around on the sofa so that he can actually rub himself against Ted, like his suit is some kind of catnip and Barney just can't get enough. Ted pretty much assumes that he could slap Barney right now and he'd still come back for more.
Trouble is, it's been a while for Ted.
It's been a while since anyone's given Ted this kind of attention. It's been weeks since he's had sex. He's almost as desperate to be touched as Barney is to touch him. The thought gives him a fierce uncomfortable ache.
He feels dislocated. Barney's fingers spider-crawl across Ted's stomach, skimming the cotton of his shirt and twisting the material as he fists it, pulling his shirt tails free from his pants. Barney's staring at his chest like it's weirdly fascinating, his eyes roaming longingly over the length of Ted's tie.
"Stop it," Ted says with flat denial. There's a simmering burn inside him, stoked by every fluttering caress, by every exploratory brush of Barney's long fingers.
"Can't stop," Barney says roughly, like he's struggling with this as much as Ted is. "Can't help it." But it seems so easy, so smooth, as Barney pops each button on Ted's shirt with quick, efficient fingers, leaving his tie like a noose around his neck.
When Barney's hands skim across his skin, Ted draws in a quick, shivery breath and pinches Barney's wrist between his own fingers. "Please," he gulps.
Barney just smiles, like he understands the ambiguity of the plea, and he slides down onto the floor, onto his knees, pressing his face right into Ted's bare stomach so that his shirt drapes around his face like curtains. Ted can feel Barney draw in a lungful of air, like a diver, then he feels something press back against him, warm and intimate and buzzing.
It sends static electricity flaring across his body, tingling from his scalp through his spine to the tip of his toes. Damn it, his resistance burns away. Everything rational that's been screaming inside him, every gut instinct that's told him to slam his fist into Barney's face, it dissipates.
"I want." Barney growls, low and hard, and Ted can feel the rasp of his zipper, hear the click of the metal teeth as it's dragged down, and because both of Barney's hands are still twisted in his shirt, he guesses that Barney's doing that with his teeth.
It's weirdly fucking hot.
Ted feels Barney take another huge, shuddering breath, then he slowly draws away, shaking his head.
Ted's hard as iron and edgy and even though this is all kinds of wrong, he breathes another "Please," and this time there's only one meaning. There's something about being touched like this, being pressed into, that's intoxicating. Now Barney's taken that away he feels tight and wounded and there's a kind of hurt in Barney's expression that Ted can't bare.
"Barney, please?" Ted says, sensing that his friend needs him to articulate what he wants, to be more specifically reassuring. "It's okay…"
Jesus, it's not like he's never thought about this, like he's never felt that weird vulnerability around Barney. It's not like Ted's subconscious hasn't betrayed him before, with strange stray fantasies of his friend.
But before Ted can get out another word, there's the slow draw of Barney's fingernails running over his inner thigh, coaxing another level of hard/wrong out of him and a low-groan of desire.
"How long have you wanted to do this?" Ted blurts a suspicion that's confused and half-formed as Barney begins to mouth him through the thin cotton of his boxers. When Barney's tongue finds the slit in the material and curls and dances, clever and wet and warm, Ted yelps and asks, with quick, fluttering words, if he should just take his pants off.
"Leave them on," Barney growls, fingers dancing over the pinstripe wool, pinching and stroking, before pressing his mouth back into service. Ted's hands move to Barney's head, digging into the soft blonde mess of hair, and his head falls back so he's staring at the ceiling.
There's a weird pressure-twisting sensation and then he feels Barney's mouth, slick-slide around his jutting cock and the world flares white-hot, shrinks down to a tiny point of focus. It could be an hour or a minute of back-forth and uninhibited moaning before he jerks and comes hard into Barney's mouth. There's a rushing sensation, in his ears, behind his eyes, for long moments after, until he finally loosens and sags back against the couch.
When Ted opens his eyes Barney's head is resting heavily between his legs, his cheek pressed into Ted's thigh. He's smiling as blissfully as Ted feels.
"You okay down there buddy?" Ted asks him, wondering when it's just going to get weird.
"M'awesome," Barney says.
Ted doesn't have the heart to move him.
Summary: Barney finally gets Ted in a suit, but then he can't keep his hands off of him.
Rating/Warnings: X - adult - M/M smut
Written for: authormichals who posted this prompt on the HIMYM Anon Kink meme.
Word Count: 1,082
Fandom/Pairing: HIMYM: Barney/Ted
Spoilers: Up to Season 5, Girls vs Suits
It's Barney's stillness that Ted notices first. Because normally, in the times when he graces them with his presence (or so he probably thinks), Barney is a man in motion. He shifts fluidly, he paces the floor, he waves his arms, he orates expansively. Barney pulls everyone's attention towards him like a very dense, very tiny heavenly body, and then he spins you all about.
Barney is a man who is always on the move.
So when he sits, unblinking and unmoving, his breathing silent and shallow, it's eerie. It bugs Ted's subconscious for long minutes before he recognizes the problem.
Everything is there in Barney's wide, blue-eyed stare.
When his best friend reaches out a tentative hand to touch him- no, not touch, stroke- when Barney reaches out to stroke Ted's arm just below the shoulder, Ted takes his fingers and pushes them back, out of his orbit, back into a safe space. He doesn't expect Barney to try it again.
But he does. Snuffling slightly, like an animal who's driven by instinct, by some primal need, Barney leans in, fingers curling around Ted's bicep, his face pressing against the fabric of his suit jacket.
It's then that Ted realizes what's going on. The suit! It's the suit Barney wants, not him. That's the reason he's pawing him, like a kitten trapped out in the rain, scratching at a screen door to be let in.
There's definitely something kittenish about the way Barney rubs his nose against Ted's arm.
"Dude!" Ted complains, shoving him back. Barney gives him a look of silent reproach but, undaunted, he leans in again and turns around on the sofa so that he can actually rub himself against Ted, like his suit is some kind of catnip and Barney just can't get enough. Ted pretty much assumes that he could slap Barney right now and he'd still come back for more.
Trouble is, it's been a while for Ted.
It's been a while since anyone's given Ted this kind of attention. It's been weeks since he's had sex. He's almost as desperate to be touched as Barney is to touch him. The thought gives him a fierce uncomfortable ache.
He feels dislocated. Barney's fingers spider-crawl across Ted's stomach, skimming the cotton of his shirt and twisting the material as he fists it, pulling his shirt tails free from his pants. Barney's staring at his chest like it's weirdly fascinating, his eyes roaming longingly over the length of Ted's tie.
"Stop it," Ted says with flat denial. There's a simmering burn inside him, stoked by every fluttering caress, by every exploratory brush of Barney's long fingers.
"Can't stop," Barney says roughly, like he's struggling with this as much as Ted is. "Can't help it." But it seems so easy, so smooth, as Barney pops each button on Ted's shirt with quick, efficient fingers, leaving his tie like a noose around his neck.
When Barney's hands skim across his skin, Ted draws in a quick, shivery breath and pinches Barney's wrist between his own fingers. "Please," he gulps.
Barney just smiles, like he understands the ambiguity of the plea, and he slides down onto the floor, onto his knees, pressing his face right into Ted's bare stomach so that his shirt drapes around his face like curtains. Ted can feel Barney draw in a lungful of air, like a diver, then he feels something press back against him, warm and intimate and buzzing.
It sends static electricity flaring across his body, tingling from his scalp through his spine to the tip of his toes. Damn it, his resistance burns away. Everything rational that's been screaming inside him, every gut instinct that's told him to slam his fist into Barney's face, it dissipates.
"I want." Barney growls, low and hard, and Ted can feel the rasp of his zipper, hear the click of the metal teeth as it's dragged down, and because both of Barney's hands are still twisted in his shirt, he guesses that Barney's doing that with his teeth.
It's weirdly fucking hot.
Ted feels Barney take another huge, shuddering breath, then he slowly draws away, shaking his head.
Ted's hard as iron and edgy and even though this is all kinds of wrong, he breathes another "Please," and this time there's only one meaning. There's something about being touched like this, being pressed into, that's intoxicating. Now Barney's taken that away he feels tight and wounded and there's a kind of hurt in Barney's expression that Ted can't bare.
"Barney, please?" Ted says, sensing that his friend needs him to articulate what he wants, to be more specifically reassuring. "It's okay…"
Jesus, it's not like he's never thought about this, like he's never felt that weird vulnerability around Barney. It's not like Ted's subconscious hasn't betrayed him before, with strange stray fantasies of his friend.
But before Ted can get out another word, there's the slow draw of Barney's fingernails running over his inner thigh, coaxing another level of hard/wrong out of him and a low-groan of desire.
"How long have you wanted to do this?" Ted blurts a suspicion that's confused and half-formed as Barney begins to mouth him through the thin cotton of his boxers. When Barney's tongue finds the slit in the material and curls and dances, clever and wet and warm, Ted yelps and asks, with quick, fluttering words, if he should just take his pants off.
"Leave them on," Barney growls, fingers dancing over the pinstripe wool, pinching and stroking, before pressing his mouth back into service. Ted's hands move to Barney's head, digging into the soft blonde mess of hair, and his head falls back so he's staring at the ceiling.
There's a weird pressure-twisting sensation and then he feels Barney's mouth, slick-slide around his jutting cock and the world flares white-hot, shrinks down to a tiny point of focus. It could be an hour or a minute of back-forth and uninhibited moaning before he jerks and comes hard into Barney's mouth. There's a rushing sensation, in his ears, behind his eyes, for long moments after, until he finally loosens and sags back against the couch.
When Ted opens his eyes Barney's head is resting heavily between his legs, his cheek pressed into Ted's thigh. He's smiling as blissfully as Ted feels.
"You okay down there buddy?" Ted asks him, wondering when it's just going to get weird.
"M'awesome," Barney says.
Ted doesn't have the heart to move him.