HIMYM [Barney/Lily] -Oneshot
Fandom: How I Met Your Mother
Pairing: Barney Stinson/ Lily Aldrin
Notes: I hate to break Lily and Marshall, buuuuuut I just love this two together very much^^ Also, I had to write something like this. Or try to. I originally intended to leave the identity of the girl as a secret or something, but it just wouldn't work.
You filthy whore, she says, and smirks coyly. She seems to be enjoying herslef; he struggles, tries to move. He can't, hands tied to the bedposts; he wants to scream, too, but doesn't find his voice. She bites her lip, puts her hair behind her ear.
Oh, come on, don't tell me you haven't done this before, you piece of shit, she whispers -she's close, too close, leaning all over him so she can talk in his ear-, don't tell me you don't know exactly how to play this game, Barney Stinson; and there is a hand on his face, fingertips caressing his jawbone, creeping up to his hair. Then, she pulls; it hurts. Come on, tell me, what should i do now?
She slaps him before getting up again, dissappearing for a second. He starts to hyperventilate, and yes, maybe he did see this coming, but it doesn't make it easier. He tries to relax, moves again, struggles against the bounds -nothing.
She comes back with what looks like a giant wire. He knows what it is, of course -he's used it more than once-, and it makes him shudder. This is gonna hurt, he thinks; he tries to scream -in a very manly manner, thank you very much-, but her hand prevents him from doing so. She caresses his lips with her thumb. Don't make any noise, bitch, she says, in a slow, silk-like voice, or the punishment will be worse.
The whip blows for the first time, hitting his tight, so dangerously close to his penis he thinks he can't bear to look. He bites back a scream, yelps instead. She letas out a little laugh -never thought I'd see you like this, she says-, hits again and again and again, a bit harsher every time, a bit stronger, leaving angry red lines all along his skin. It hurts like hell, but he knows better than to complain -she just needs an excuse to make it worse, better, whatever; he's not giving it to her.
In the end, she leaves it alone, sets the whip aside in favour of sitting beside him, stroking his hair, pulling at it now and then. Hmm, you're better at this than I thought, you know?, she says. I thought by now you'd be whining like the little bitch you are, Barney -she has this way of saying his name, making it sound filthy, perverting it-. He opens his mouth, ready to retort -he can taste blood on his lower lip, he's bitten it so hard-, but she doesn't let him, goes down and kisses him before he can even start. It's rough, hard, she plays with her teeth and her tongue and teases, and there is a moment she bits him in that same spot, only he doesn't really care, because her hands have gone down, further, and she grabs his half-hard cock and strokes. He moans -not sure if it's from pain or pleasure-, closes his eyes. And, just like that, she's gone. No more kiss, no more hands.
He looks up, finds her. Come on, she says, you don't really think this will be that easy, do you? She's got a smirk in her face, and he's sure she'd laugh if it didn't seem so innapropriate. We've gotta play a little more, bitch, she whispers again, dangerously sweet tone. I've got something for you.
And he knows. He knows even before he sees it, black and so huge -that can't possibly fit in, he thinks-, and maybe, yes, maybe he starts to panic. Don't, he starts. Look, don't- I- I- But she smirks anyway, unties his legs. Just do what I say, she orders. It won't hurt. Much.
She takes the lube, makes him watch as she puts it all over her fingers. Come on, she says, legs parted, you bitch, and he can't help but obey. This is gonna happen, this is really gonna happen, he thinks. Something cold slids into him without warning, at some point, and it doesn't really hurt, at the beginning -she's more careful than he thought she'd be-, but then there is another finger joining it, and how the hell is this supposed to work, anyway, when he can feel them moving, in and out, and it is so damn unconfortable. She's rubbing them, looking for something; he knows he's making a face because she laughs, taunts him -I'm gonna make you come, bitch, you'll see- without even pausing. Finally, the fingers reach something, and it is still too much to take, but it's also pleasant. It feels good, it is good and it makes him groan, move his hips up and down.
That's it, bitch, she says; he can't do more than mumble incoherences, try and tell her that just, just there, just like that, he breathes; she stops inmediately, gets up, frowns. What do you think you're doing, whore?, she asks. You think you can boss me around? -and, really, she's so overreacting-. She slaps him again, spits in his face. I'm gonna show you how this works, pig, she growls. Be quiet, do as I say, and everything will be okay, and suddenly ther is something bigger at his entrance, going into him too fast, too rough, breaking him into pieces. He bits back a scream, and the dildo pauses for a second, trying to find its way in his ass. It takes a few seconds to start moving again; inside and out, finding its pace, reaching his prostate again and making him shudder, moan, making his dick throb painfully.
You like it, right, bitch?, she asks, tone playful, a ghost of a smile in her face. Tell me you like it, whore, and her free hand finds his cock, strokes it hard and fast, and he can't talk, he can't think; he just moves at her rhythm, following her hands until he's so near the orgasm; she stops, then. He groans in protest -his body keeps trying to end it, his hips searching for her. We're not gonna finish this easily, are we?, and it isn't really a question, of course, but he still wishes he could say no. She takes off the dildo, too -and now maybe he misses it a little-, places herself on top of him. Her mouth looks hungrily for his, while her hands guide his penis inside her. Come on, she says, come on, bitch, move.
Everything's fast, after that. He's in his field, now, he knows how to do this, even if he's still tied up and there is really no much to do. Their hips move fast, their breaths are ragged and inconstant. She yells hold on bitch so many times it sounds like a chant; maybe it is. And, as she comes, her nails dig in his skin, drawing red half moons; she keeps moving until he lets go, a few seconds later, howling and throwing his head back and maybe letting her name slide -he hopes not, but he can't really be sure.
The take their time calming down. He's still tied to the bed, and she doesn't climb down him, long reddish hair tickling a little. Barney's the first one to speak, voice low and rusty. Taht, he says, was awesome. You know, and he can't see it, but she smiles; you know, Lily, I've always said, girls with names that end in -ly are the-, and suddenly there are her lips on his, again. Just shut up, you bitch.
Pairing: Barney Stinson/ Lily Aldrin
Notes: I hate to break Lily and Marshall, buuuuuut I just love this two together very much^^ Also, I had to write something like this. Or try to. I originally intended to leave the identity of the girl as a secret or something, but it just wouldn't work.
You filthy whore, she says, and smirks coyly. She seems to be enjoying herslef; he struggles, tries to move. He can't, hands tied to the bedposts; he wants to scream, too, but doesn't find his voice. She bites her lip, puts her hair behind her ear.
Oh, come on, don't tell me you haven't done this before, you piece of shit, she whispers -she's close, too close, leaning all over him so she can talk in his ear-, don't tell me you don't know exactly how to play this game, Barney Stinson; and there is a hand on his face, fingertips caressing his jawbone, creeping up to his hair. Then, she pulls; it hurts. Come on, tell me, what should i do now?
She slaps him before getting up again, dissappearing for a second. He starts to hyperventilate, and yes, maybe he did see this coming, but it doesn't make it easier. He tries to relax, moves again, struggles against the bounds -nothing.
She comes back with what looks like a giant wire. He knows what it is, of course -he's used it more than once-, and it makes him shudder. This is gonna hurt, he thinks; he tries to scream -in a very manly manner, thank you very much-, but her hand prevents him from doing so. She caresses his lips with her thumb. Don't make any noise, bitch, she says, in a slow, silk-like voice, or the punishment will be worse.
The whip blows for the first time, hitting his tight, so dangerously close to his penis he thinks he can't bear to look. He bites back a scream, yelps instead. She letas out a little laugh -never thought I'd see you like this, she says-, hits again and again and again, a bit harsher every time, a bit stronger, leaving angry red lines all along his skin. It hurts like hell, but he knows better than to complain -she just needs an excuse to make it worse, better, whatever; he's not giving it to her.
In the end, she leaves it alone, sets the whip aside in favour of sitting beside him, stroking his hair, pulling at it now and then. Hmm, you're better at this than I thought, you know?, she says. I thought by now you'd be whining like the little bitch you are, Barney -she has this way of saying his name, making it sound filthy, perverting it-. He opens his mouth, ready to retort -he can taste blood on his lower lip, he's bitten it so hard-, but she doesn't let him, goes down and kisses him before he can even start. It's rough, hard, she plays with her teeth and her tongue and teases, and there is a moment she bits him in that same spot, only he doesn't really care, because her hands have gone down, further, and she grabs his half-hard cock and strokes. He moans -not sure if it's from pain or pleasure-, closes his eyes. And, just like that, she's gone. No more kiss, no more hands.
He looks up, finds her. Come on, she says, you don't really think this will be that easy, do you? She's got a smirk in her face, and he's sure she'd laugh if it didn't seem so innapropriate. We've gotta play a little more, bitch, she whispers again, dangerously sweet tone. I've got something for you.
And he knows. He knows even before he sees it, black and so huge -that can't possibly fit in, he thinks-, and maybe, yes, maybe he starts to panic. Don't, he starts. Look, don't- I- I- But she smirks anyway, unties his legs. Just do what I say, she orders. It won't hurt. Much.
She takes the lube, makes him watch as she puts it all over her fingers. Come on, she says, legs parted, you bitch, and he can't help but obey. This is gonna happen, this is really gonna happen, he thinks. Something cold slids into him without warning, at some point, and it doesn't really hurt, at the beginning -she's more careful than he thought she'd be-, but then there is another finger joining it, and how the hell is this supposed to work, anyway, when he can feel them moving, in and out, and it is so damn unconfortable. She's rubbing them, looking for something; he knows he's making a face because she laughs, taunts him -I'm gonna make you come, bitch, you'll see- without even pausing. Finally, the fingers reach something, and it is still too much to take, but it's also pleasant. It feels good, it is good and it makes him groan, move his hips up and down.
That's it, bitch, she says; he can't do more than mumble incoherences, try and tell her that just, just there, just like that, he breathes; she stops inmediately, gets up, frowns. What do you think you're doing, whore?, she asks. You think you can boss me around? -and, really, she's so overreacting-. She slaps him again, spits in his face. I'm gonna show you how this works, pig, she growls. Be quiet, do as I say, and everything will be okay, and suddenly ther is something bigger at his entrance, going into him too fast, too rough, breaking him into pieces. He bits back a scream, and the dildo pauses for a second, trying to find its way in his ass. It takes a few seconds to start moving again; inside and out, finding its pace, reaching his prostate again and making him shudder, moan, making his dick throb painfully.
You like it, right, bitch?, she asks, tone playful, a ghost of a smile in her face. Tell me you like it, whore, and her free hand finds his cock, strokes it hard and fast, and he can't talk, he can't think; he just moves at her rhythm, following her hands until he's so near the orgasm; she stops, then. He groans in protest -his body keeps trying to end it, his hips searching for her. We're not gonna finish this easily, are we?, and it isn't really a question, of course, but he still wishes he could say no. She takes off the dildo, too -and now maybe he misses it a little-, places herself on top of him. Her mouth looks hungrily for his, while her hands guide his penis inside her. Come on, she says, come on, bitch, move.
Everything's fast, after that. He's in his field, now, he knows how to do this, even if he's still tied up and there is really no much to do. Their hips move fast, their breaths are ragged and inconstant. She yells hold on bitch so many times it sounds like a chant; maybe it is. And, as she comes, her nails dig in his skin, drawing red half moons; she keeps moving until he lets go, a few seconds later, howling and throwing his head back and maybe letting her name slide -he hopes not, but he can't really be sure.
The take their time calming down. He's still tied to the bed, and she doesn't climb down him, long reddish hair tickling a little. Barney's the first one to speak, voice low and rusty. Taht, he says, was awesome. You know, and he can't see it, but she smiles; you know, Lily, I've always said, girls with names that end in -ly are the-, and suddenly there are her lips on his, again. Just shut up, you bitch.