A/N: written for Season of Kink 2018: Bondage.
"First you try to kill me," Conrad growled in his ear, "then you come crawling back looking for a quick fuck."
Crawling wasn't exactly right. To start with, he'd almost thrown Barney through a wall, knocked a tooth loose, roughed him up good and proper. Once Stonebanks pulled out the zip tie, however, Barney understood what was going to happen next. If Conrad were planning to kill him, it would've happened already.
It wasn't the first time they'd gotten into a fight, nor did Barney imagine it'd be the last. A relationship like theirs could only end one of two ways. Barney pulled against the restraint around his wrists to no avail, attempted to adjust the position of his shoulders, but gave up the moment he saw the look in Conrad's eyes. "You deserved it."
Deserved it? It'd been his idea to put the team together. It was him who scraped Doc off the ground and helped him up, only to discover what the man could do with a blade in his hand. Conrad had done the dirty work and let Barney have all the glory. "I saved you from being stuck in a shithole job for the rest of your life."
The day Conrad took his ethics and morals and threw them out the window had apparently been so long ago that Barney could only wonder whether he'd ever tried to stop the devolution and corruption of Stonebanks at all. "You keep telling yourself that."
A grunt was his only reply. After a moment, Conrad reached down, lifted Barney by the plastic binding his wrists and hauled him up onto the bed. He drew a large bowie knife from the sheath on his belt and pressed it to Barney's throat. The metal glinted in the dim light of the lamp and he couldn't help but smile. "Let's try that again. How about 'I'm sorry you wasted your time trying to help me'."
"I didn't come here to be your therapist," Barney said. The blade grazed his adam's apple but didn't do much as nick him. If Stonebanks wanted to, he could've cut Barney open right then and there from ear to ear. Except he didn't. Stonebanks had just a little more class than that. "Although I wouldn't pass up the opportunity to correct your daddy issues."
This was what he wanted: Barney gift-wrapped and bloody, looking more than a little worse for wear, yet still conscious. Still alive enough to feel the sting of his fists and the pain of being stretched dry.
Barney's hands were bound behind his back and three ties kept his knees together, rendering him almost immobile. He wouldn't be going anywhere tonight, or tomorrow. The bruises on his face would purple in a few days but the scars Conrad planned on inflicting would take years to heal.
"How about we start by correcting your attitude problem." He dropped the knife on the mattress and proceeded to punch Ross in the stomach. Once he almost folded in half, Conrad gripped Barney's hair and yanked his head up, holding it in place. "I keep telling you but you never listen: if you're going to kill someone—"
Kissing Barney in that moment was a lesson in restraint. A lesson he didn't mind teaching as a matter of fact. They pushed and pulled and fought but Conrad came out on top every time. Surely Barney had learnt by now he couldn't keep playing both sides.
Conrad bit Barney's bottom lip till all he tasted of was blood and alcohol, and the rasp of Barney's beard against his skin made his cock twitch. When Ross pushed forward, thrust and ground himself against Conrad's thigh, his erection hard and obvious through his pants, the corner of Conrad's lip quirked up into a smile that was only one step short of sadistic.
"—you do it right the first time."
"Go ahead. I'm here, aren't I?"