Barney comes home drunk one night - really steaming drunk. He kicks the door open, singing at the top of his voice, clutching something in his hand.
The blinding light wakes Lily and she hoists herself up, half-groggy, wondering what the hell is going on. She's gotten used to sleeping on his couch in the last couple of days and even grown to accept the odd hours he keeps. But usually he's got a girl and she makes herself scarce or he hasn't and he's quiet when he sneaks in - presumably after doing the "walk of awesome" (he still insists that shame is a country he's never visited).
This time, he's clearly upset about something. He bounces off one of the walls and staggers towards the couch, practically landing on top of her. All Lily's wearing is a t-shirt and panties, and the blanket's really thin. She can feel his weight, his outline and every crease of his suit digging into her.
"Mmm… Lily, Lily, you're so hot!" he mumbles, leaning forward and trying to kiss her. "Why're you so hot but you never let me have sex with you?"
He's like an over-eager puppy - a puppy that stinks of booze and cigar smoke, a puppy that's a lot bigger than she is, is pinning her down and, wow, he's also a very horny puppy.
Damn it, Lily! She thinks to herself. Really exhausted that metaphor.
"Baby…" He says, trying to kiss her again. It's all she can do to fend him off, her fingers pressed hard against his collarbone, then his chin. "I could make you feel so good, baby…" His voice - pleading cajoling.
"No, Barney!" Lily says angrily, but Barney pulls at the blanket, exposing her legs, while at the same time straddling her and preventing her from getting away. His hand moves to her thigh, finding bare flesh and yanking hard at the remainder of the covering while she clings on to it for dear life.
Okay, now she's scared.
"Why're you fighting this, Lil?" He says in a sing-song, drunken slur. "Why don't you want to say hello to Barnacle Junior?"
"I'm not kidding!" Lily says through gritted teeth. "Barney, if you don't get off me right now, you're gonna lose your- Ahhhh!"
How in the fuck did he get his fingers inside her like that? She tries to twist out of his grip but he's rubbing and pulling and the more she struggles the more her groin grinds against his hand and the more waves of pleasure shudder through her thin frame. His hips jerk against her thigh as he dry humps her, as he tweaks her clit and she blushes to the roots of her newly-dyed hair.
"FUCK!" She cries out, as she clenches around his invading hand and he clearly takes that as an invitation because he begins to pull down his suit pants and suddenly she can't breathe and she starts struggling in earnest.
Oh my god, he's going to do this! She realises. He's going to try and… but sex? Only with Marshall! She doesn't want this! But her groin is on fire and throbbing and Jesus fucking H CHRIST she does want this.
So close, she's so close and her orgasm begins to sweep over her and at that moment she'd give him anything, let him inside her, pull him inside her like a hungry whore but-
He suddenly goes limp on top of her. She bucks her hips a few more times, feeling the dampness against her other leg and eventually she manages to kick him off her and he falls, bonelessly on to the floor.
After a few moments, she can hear him snoring.
"PIG!" She shouts, loudly.
Of course, in the morning, he doesn't remember any of it.
