Orange
"I don't get it!" Robin said thoughtfully, regarding the fruit she held in her hand.
"What?" Barney asked her, looking up from Ted's laptop.
"Autoerotic asphyxiation…"
He frowned at her. "Uh, way to non-sequitur, Scherbatsky!"
She shook herself. "I get why a guy might want to strangle himself. I half the time I want to strangle you! But, the orange. Why an orange? I mean, how do you even get a whole orange in your mouth?"
Before he could stop himself, he was correcting her. "A common misconception," he said, holding up one finger and turning towards her. "It's simply that strong tasting substances such as oranges have been used to disguise the bitter taste of narcotics like amyl nitrate, commonly used to intensify the whole… jerking off experience!" His grin quickly faded when he caught the look in her eye. "Robin, no!"
"Don't you trust me, Barney?" She said softly.
No, he didn't. But that was the deal. Sex with Robin was always on her terms. And she probably wasn't strong enough to strangle him to death anyway.
Probably.
"Of course I trust you baby," he said miserably.
"Then get in the bedroom, my beeatch!"
He snorted. "No way."
She slowly got to her feet and walked over to him, swaying her hips. He stood up, so they were face to face, nose to nose.
Then she reached down and unbuckled his belt. "I said, get in the bedroom…" She said, her voice low and threatening, sending vibrations through him that made his cock jerk like a marionette on a string.
"Sheesh!" He complained, as she pulled his belt slowly away from his pants, wrapping the tongue around her fist. Quick as a cat, she looped it around his neck, pulling it tight so that the buckle dug into his Adam's apple, and yanked him in the direction of the bedroom like a dog on a leash. She practically throttled him!
He pulled back at first, but then she reached down and cupped him through his pants and his dick leapt against her hand. It knew who was mistress, even if his damn oxygen-deprived brain didn't.
She soon had him on the bed, on his back.
Robin's fingers wormed their way beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers, silences his protests as effectively as the belt, tightening once again around his neck. This time, it didn't cut into his windpipe, but the pressure was certainly doing something! The world swam in and out of focus as she stuck her hand down his pants and fisted his erection.
Barney panted for breath. He wanted to fight her off, wanted to roll her over on to he back and show her who really had the upper hand here. But who was he kidding? Really?
She had the upper hand. And that hand right now was driving him crazy! Tight, then loose, hard, then gentle, fast, then slow, he tried jerking his hips but every time he did it she just let go!
"Don't stop!" He tried to say. But the second word was cut off as she pulled the belt tight, cutting off his breath, suffocating him until his lungs burned and he began to thrash in her grip.
Then everything went hot and black behind his eyes and he squeezed them tight-shut against the burst of pleasure so intense that it was indistinguishable from agony.
It was the same as death.
There were acres, hours, years of endless silence. But yet, in the same instant he felt a sharp pain across his cheek and he opened his eyes to see her, hovering over him, her face mottled with heat and streaked with tears.
He took a deep, shaking breath and all he could taste was the sharp tang of citrus.
"I thought… thought… I'd killed you!" Robin said, her words ground out like glass as she fought against the sobs.
His head hurt - pounded like it had been split, dry wood cleaved with an axe.
"I thought…" She said. The orange rolled against his bare hip, still on the bed by her knee.
He took another aching breath. "I'm okay," he reassured her.
And for the first time all summer, she leaned forward and kissed him.