Then...
"My turn, my rules," he says, leaning forward and covering her body by inches.
Robin struggles fitfully beneath him for a few moments before fixing him with a baleful stare. "You're loving this, aren't you?"
There's nothing Barney loves more. Smiling, he kisses away her protests and lifts his hips so that she can feel the weight of him, hot and heavy, against her thigh. "I think you'll find that speaks for itself."
"Himself?" She smirks, still not surrendering, still not giving up. It's like she believes that if she keeps him talking, she'll somehow delay this.
So he pulls at his erection, bouncing it between her legs until she tenses, her eyebrows drawn together in a frown of concentration. She even grits her teeth and tightens her grip on his arm. But eventually Robin's willpower crumbles and her body begins to undulate, her stomach tightens, her nipples harden under his cheek where he brushes it over her breast.
Eventually she begins to enjoy it.
And because it's his turn, he pulls away from her, breaks contact and he fists his dick. Then he pumps it until he comes explosively over her belly and between her breasts.
*--*--*
Earlier…
"This is the last time," she says.
Barney kisses her, or he tries to. His lips land awkwardly on the corner of her mouth as she turns her head away. "Okay then," he says and pulls back, because he's not going to beg.
"If you really want this, then it's my rules." Robin hasn't even looked him in the eye since the abortive kiss. Instead, she lifts her wineglass and takes a sip, the liquid leaving a crimson stain when she licks her lips.
What she tastes like is over-ripe fruit, harsh and bloody. Maybe she's right. Maybe this should be the last time. Hell, last time should have been the last time.
"We broke up," he says, because one of them needs to say it.
"My rules," she repeats. The words are bitten-off and bitter. There's pain in her eyes, obvious even in profile.
"Okay," he says again, agreeing before he's seen the small print. How bad can it be?
*--*--*
Later…
He feels like an animal, hog-tied and helpless. He knows this is revenge but did she have to truss him up in quite such an awkward position? He feels like some kind of squashed frog.
She's kind of oblivious about it though. He taunts her for her skill with knots, "Such a tomboy, Scherbatsky," he drawls, even as she cuts off his circulation. The muscles in his thighs begin to shake after ten minutes in this constricted position.
She's kind of a cliché. She plays a teasing finger over his buttocks, pulling them apart and playing with the tight ring of muscle that's rarely been breeched. She knows that he'll do anything, just so long as he's in control. She knows what shoving a rubber dick up inside him will do to his state of mind.
He tries to tell himself that she's just messing with him, as he bites his bottom lip and winces.
*--*--*
Earlier…
She looks outraged.
Barney drags his tongue along her stomach, dips it into her belly button and then through the pearlescent smear decorating her skin. Robin's lips twitch in disgust as she fights not to show him how annoyed she is at this turn of events. He smirks, because he knows how wet she is now, how hungry.
"You're just going to leave me here like this?" She asks. The implication is that he'd better not.
"My turn, my rules," he says.
She glares at him.
*--*--*
Earlier…
He tucks a stray lock of soft brown hair behind her ear, his fingers sweeping across her cheek. She flinches away, because she's more on her guard than he'll ever be. She's always worried that one of their friends will see.
"So, you got a booty call lined up for tonight?" She asks, anything but casually.
He shrugs, bonelessly. "I'd rather take you home, baby."
Robin regards him thoughtfully. "Stop it," she says. "Stop treating me like we haven't been-"
"That was once. One time." He interrupts her. "You said that was going to be our last time."
The trouble with Robin is that she's really terrible at being seductive when she tries too hard.
She tries too hard.
"Maybe I don't want it to be," she purrs. She even adds a giggle.
"No way," he cuts her dead. "Unless…"
"Unless?"
He smiles, but it's a cold smile. "My turn, my rules."
"Okay," she acquiesces.
*--*--*
Later…
It's hurting them both. Every time they do this, it screws them up a little tighter, it twists them and bends them out of shape. Every time he goes hunting bimbos, she feels a stab of jealousy.
This isn't the same as the summer, the last time they were hooking up in secret. The summer was a game, it was light-hearted, it was easy.
Barney and Robin, hooking up in winter is a very different propositions. Barney and Robin post breakup, post relationship, maybe even post friendship - it's all about who wins. It's all about who can hurt. It's all about competition.
It's never going to end well.
"My turn, my rules," she whispers in his ear. He's still sore from the last time. His wrists are still abraded from the ropes. He's only just able to take a crap without it hurting.
He shakes his head, "No."
This obviously upsets her, because she shows absolutely no reaction whatsoever. "Fine," she says, tilting her chin.
"Fine," he repeats. It's for the best.
*--*--*
Earlier...
She looks a little scared this time. After what she did to him he's not surprised. She's expecting retribution, humiliation, maybe even a bit of pain.
This has gone way beyond simple relapse sex, way beyond a game even. This has gotten serious.
Barney runs his thumb in a circle over the sensitive skin under her arm and she shivers. He can feel the puff of her breath against his cheek.
His lips trace the line of her bicep, kiss the crease of her elbow and he imagines he can feel the flutter of her pulse there. He imagines that she wants to beg him, just to get on with it, whatever punishment he has in mind.
That's exactly why he draws it out.
*--*--*
Later…
He falls apart, behind closed doors. In the week following his rejection of her, he aches.
It's stupid of course, because they weren't a couple. It's not even like they had an arrangement. Every time together was their last time. Each of them saying it, over and over, in turn.
This is the last time, the very last time, no really.
His turn, her turn, his turn, and back again.
If she was any other woman she would crumble, surround herself with Kleenex and ice cream and sappy movies. But she's Robin Scherbatsky and she's strong. She's probably at the shooting range by now, working off her frustrations.
If he were Ted, or Marshall, or any other guy, he'd deal with this somehow. He'd have the mechanism, the experience, allow the pain in. But he's Barney Stinson and he's stronger. He sleeps with three different women and he calls it therapy. He sees Robin at the bar and he tells himself he's fine.
Their secret eats away inside him and he's never been very good at resisting temptation.
*--*--*
Earlier…
It snows, worse than the year before. He gets snowed in at the bar, and the new bartender, Karina, spends an hour talking to Robin and he wonders if they're comparing notes.
Later, when getting a cab looks hopeless and Ted tells him to stay over, Robin whispers in his ear.
Ted gets up to settle their tab and Robin says, "My turn."
He swallows, nods, twitches a little, because her voice is husky and she says the words like they're a threat. He's so wrapped up in Robin that he almost follows her straight into her bedroom and only catches himself when Ted asks if he wants another beer.
Robin goes to bed while he and Ted stay up, play video games, smoke a cigar or two.
The tension gets under his skin, pumps his blood a little faster in his veins, gives everything a diamond-hard edge.
It takes all his willpower to sleep on the couch.
*--*--*
Later…
They've gotten used to regular sex, that's all. Barney tells himself that it's just a habit. When Robin slides into the booth beside him, he sits up a little straighter, determined to play it cool. Then she sidles close to him, places a hand on his thigh and says, "I forfeit. Your turn, your rules."
She looks at him, searchingly.
She smiles, tentatively.
She's put herself out there, and she waits for him to bend.
He should throw this back in her face, he knows. He should tell her that his heart aches and when he's in bed with her, sometimes he just wants to reach out. Sometimes he just wants to wrap his arms tight around her and pull her out of the pit they've dug themselves into.
Sometimes he just wants to save her.
But she's Robin Scherbatsky and she's stronger than that and if anyone's going to rescue her, it's her.
Or it's not him.
Right?
*--*--*
Earlier…
It's just sex.
It's just him, inside her, fighting every impulse, resisting the way she clenches around him, the way she giggles.
If it's just sex, then when their eyes meet, there's no recognition there. There's no longing.
If it's just sex, then she doesn't have the power to tear him down, and there's no need to be scared.
He's not scared this time, he tells himself. He's not. This is not the terror of standing at the edge of the abyss. He knows what happens when they both decide to jump.
Freefall, then impact, total destruction of personality, of self respect, of everything they are.
It's just sex.
He cups her face with his hand and he kisses her deeply, asynchronous to each firm thrust.
"You're good at this," she gasps, like she could possibly have forgotten so quickly.
*--*--*
Now…
"I miss you," he doesn't say.
"I'm scared," she doesn't say.
Instead, they speak in moans and gasps; they converse in trembles and sighs. Barney and Robin work it out to the slap of flesh against flesh, in the ecstasy of anguish.
She still hurts him and he still hurts her, but outside of this fucked-up masquerade in the bedroom, they never let it show.