When he finally left Ted's apartment several hours later, Barney was sore and exhausted, barely able to find the energy to hail a cab to take him home. His mind had long since lost the capacity for coherent thought, and the only image that filled his thoughts was that of his warm, comfortable bed.

Once he reached his own apartment, he called his boss's office and left a message on his voicemail, informing him that he'd had a personal emergency, and would be coming in late the next morning. Then, he pulled off his shoes and nothing else, and collapsed onto his bed, dragging the blanket over him and almost instantly falling asleep.

When he awakened in the morning, his body ached even worse, but his mind was clear; and as he made his way to the bathroom mirror to reluctantly take in the damage Ted had done – dark, finger-shaped bruises around his hips and his wrists; one angry red bite mark just below his collar bone; scratches up and down his chest and back where Ted's nails had ruthlessly dug into him, roughly manipulating him into whatever position Ted happened to want at the moment – one indisputable fact echoed in his thoughts.

This is so completely, irrevocably fucked up.

In the entire time that they'd been friends, Ted had spent a lot of time pissed off with Barney. He'd yelled at him before, made infrequent hurtful comments, and the occasional empty threat. But never in all that time had Barney ever felt what he'd felt the previous night.

He'd never been scared of Ted before.

Yeah… Barney surveyed himself in the mirror, avoiding his own face, and the vicious sneer of disgust he knew was there. So scared that you got off twice on the way he was manhandling you… the way he just shoved you down and held you there and took what he wanted…

The way he hurt you.

A shiver went down Barney's spine at the dark, vivid memories of the night before, the sensations still tingling on the surface of his skin as he closed his eyes – unsure whether he was trying to shut out the memory, or make it more real.

It scared you, yeah… but it also turned you on.

And that, Barney Stinson, means that you are as hopelessly fucked up as he is.

Because as humiliating and degrading as Ted's treatment of him had become, as hurtful as his words could be and as frightening as his actions were, a part of Barney had begun to crave those very unsettling attentions. If Ted went a little longer than usual before calling him and arranging to meet with him for a little time alone, Barney found himself wondering if he'd done something wrong, worrying about whether or not Ted was going to call him again, whether or not the last time had really been the last time.

And as much as he hated himself for it, Barney had to admit that he didn't really want it to be the last time.

He's finally paying some attention to me again. He's admitting, even if not with his words, that he wants me, needs me around – in his life. He might not ever say it out loud, but every time he proves that he can't go more than a day or two without calling me up and asking me to come over, it's like…

I'm not the only one who's needy and pathetic anymore.

But… is proving that worth all this?

In the middle of the night, with Ted's talented hands and shockingly filthy mouth making him come apart, reduced to nothing more than helpless, desperate sensation and desire – in those dark, secret moments – it felt like it was worth it.

But… it's killing you. Wearing you down. Barney sighed, resting his head against the headrest behind him as the cab carried him closer to his workplace – where, thankfully, he only had to spend half the day today. I've never called in like this before. Never because I physically had to. And… it can't happen again. I can't let him push me to the point where I'm losing control of my life…

Barney swallowed hard, his mouth dry and his stomach lurching as an unsettling realization passed through his mind.

Some nights it feels like I've lost it already.

He drew in a deep, shaky breath, squaring his shoulders and closing his eyes as he tried to focus his thoughts and prepare himself to face the day ahead of him. He had to get it together before he got to work.

Throughout the day, however, Barney's thoughts kept coming back to The Ted Problem, and although he tried not to dwell on it, he couldn't quite keep his mind off of it. By the time he was ready to head home for the day, he'd reached an undeniable conclusion.

It's not going to be easy. You've tried once and he managed to talk you out of it… though, actually, there was very little talking involved, but… you can't let him do it to you again. You have to be strong, take a stand, make sure he knows that you're done being treated like his favorite sex toy whenever he gets an itch, and then put away in the drawer until he's ready to play again.

No matter what it takes – you have to put a stop to this.

Ted woke up very late the next morning, not having bothered to set his alarm. After all, it wasn't like there was anything he had to get up for – and he'd worn both himself and Barney out pretty thoroughly the night before.

His stomach lurched unpleasantly at the memories of the cruel words he'd spoken, the violent, demanding way in which he'd touched his friend, manipulating him into the physical and emotional position in which he wanted him. An uneasy sense of guilt mingled with a faint stirring of arousal at the memories, and Ted suddenly felt the need to vomit.

You're sick, Mosby. Only a very sick person could do the kinds of things you've done to Barney lately…

Ted got out of bed and made his way to the shower, trying to make sense of what had happened the night before, rationalizing in his mind as the hot water poured over him and soothed the edges of his discomfort.

And only a sick, sick person would let you. This isn't all your fault. Barney's the freaky nympho of the group anyway, isn't he? It's not like he isn't having a good time. For whatever twisted, messed up reasons, he gets off on being treated like that. For all you know, he's deliberately challenging you, pushing you, just to get you to do it.

Maybe he's the one who's been manipulating you all along.

Deep down, Ted knew that wasn't true. He knew exactly what buttons to push to get Barney to go along with anything – to play on his insecurities, his need for approval, and convince him to do whatever Ted wanted. It was almost like a complex game of strategy, testing his skill and seeing what it would take to bend Barney's will to his own, on any given night.

Do you have any idea how sick that sounds?

Ted stepped out of the shower, wrapping himself in a warm, dry towel before rubbing vigorously at his hair with a second one.

You have to stop.

But the problem was, at this point – Ted wasn't sure he could.

Barney – or more specifically his power over Barney – had become like a drug to him, and he was swiftly becoming addicted.

It doesn't matter, though, he told himself as he got dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, aware that he wasn't going to have to leave the house today. Not after this last time. Barney will probably want to break it off himself. And… that's for the best, if he does. I need to take some time and figure out what's going on in my head, why I feel the need to do this… maybe talk to someone, get some… therapy, or something… not to see him again tonight, or… or to do any of those things to him again, or…

No. Don't go there. It's best if he breaks it off, and if… when he tries to… you should let him.

Just let it go, Ted. Just… let it happen…

It's for the best. It really is…

Barney didn't call before heading toward Ted's apartment that night. He didn't want to give Ted any warning, any time to prepare for what he was steeling himself to do.

He had to end this thing – tonight.

When Ted opened the door, Barney noticed with some unease that he didn't seem particularly surprised to see him. He stepped back without a word, giving Barney the space to enter, before closing the door and turning the lock again. Barney's eyes darted nervously toward the lock for a moment before he forced himself to turn and face his friend, meeting his calm, dark gaze with a bravado he didn't quite feel.

"It's done, Ted. It's over."

Ted tilted his head slightly in a gesture of mild, bored confusion – and then a soft, knowing smile crossed his lips as he slowly began to close the distance between them.

"No," Barney objected, taking a rapid backward step, which brought him up against the door. "No, Ted, I mean it. This thing is… it's crazy, and… and I'm done. I'm not letting you do this again…"

But Ted didn't seem to be hearing him, and if he was, he wasn't listening. He pressed in close to Barney, one hand rising to gently fist in his hair and drag his head back a little, the other resting lightly at his waist as he silenced Barney's protests with a firm but patient, leisurely kiss.

Barney didn't kiss back – he didn't – and then, he was kissing back, for just a second, before the memory of why he was there shot through him again like electricity, and he jerked his head away, wincing as he accidentally cracked his temple against the door behind him.

"No," he insisted, trying to ignore the tremor in his own voice, the faint note of pleading that had crept into it. "Ted… stop."

He tried to push Ted away, but Ted caught his wrists, pinning them between them with one hand. The thought crossed Barney's mind that if Ted thought he could hold him that easily, he was sadly mistaken – and then the capacity for coherent thought left him as Ted's free hand gently cupped the front of his pants, fingers stroking teasingly through the thin fabric that covered Barney's traitorously responsive body.

Suddenly, Ted's strategy for restraining him seemed not foolish but genius.

"Stop," he whispered, shaking his head, though he was no longer trying to pull away. "Ted, stop…"

"No," Ted murmured against his ear, drawing back to meet Barney's eyes with a wicked smile.

Barney blinked, startled. "Wh-what?"

"No," Ted repeated, shaking his head, his voice low and thick with desire as he let out a soft, knowing laugh that Barney found deeply unsettling. "You expect me to believe that you really want me to? When you're already hard for me and I've barely touched you? Really, Barney?"

"I d-don't," Barney gasped, struggling to find words as Ted intensified his attentions to the erection that was now straining the expensive fabric of Barney's suit pants. "I don't want… I want you to… to stop…"

"Liar." Ted smirked. "I've got you all figured out, Barney," he confessed softly, leaning in close to Barney's ear again, releasing his wrists and reaching up to run a hand through Barney's hair.

Your hands are free, now's your chance. Now's your chance, damn it! Do something, Stinson! Stop him!

But Barney couldn't move, his breathing ragged and fast, his hands trembling uselessly against the door as Ted tightened his hold on Barney's hair to just the wrong side of painful – and Barney cursed his own response, as his erection jerked slightly under Ted's hand. Ted let out a low, dark laugh, nodding slowly at the confirmation of his words.

"You don't want me to know it, Barney… but this is exactly what you want. Isn't it?"

Barney shook his head in denial, but couldn't find the words to protest, his face flushing with shame as Ted went on.

"You don't want to be romanced or dated or even respected – do you? Because that's not what gets you off. You hate this, you want it to be over, yeah – whatever. Except when it's happening. When it's happening…"

Ted's voice lowered to a hushed whisper as he abruptly grabbed both of Barney's wrists in his hands and slammed them back against the door, together above his head, hard enough to elicit a pained whimper from Barney's lips – but still, he didn't try to break free.

"… when it's happening," Ted went on, each word slow and measured, his grip bruisingly tight, his knee sliding up between Barney's legs and pressing hard enough to make him gasp, "all you want is for me to hold you down and tell you what to do… and then make you do it. Isn't that right? You want me to talk down to you and degrade you and treat you like the pathetic, worthless little slut you are – don't you?"

Barney shook his head, his eyes burning behind his tightly shut eyelids. His throat felt tight and hot, and he was trembling all over, willing himself to push Ted away – and somehow unable to do it.

"You want it," Ted persisted softly, slowly, as if just figuring it out as he went along, "because you believe that you deserve it…"

Barney flinched slightly, still shaking his head. "No," he whispered. "No…"

"And you do deserve it," Ted went on, ignoring his weak protest. "And… you wanted us to be friends again, right, Barney? So… I am your friend. And… like a friend should do… I'm going to give you exactly what you deserve… what you need…"

"I… I d-don't…" Barney stammered, struggling to find the words to argue, and failing miserably.

Ted ignored him, grabbing his wrists again and spinning him around, shoving him backward hard so that he fell onto the couch. Ted was upon him in an instant, straddling his waist and already working the buckle of his own belt, pulling it off in one smooth motion.

"If you don't," Ted acknowledged Barney's broken protest at last, a single eyebrow raised in challenge. "Then stop me, Barney. You really want this to be over? You want to walk away and never walk through my door again?" He leaned down to meet Barney's eyes directly, a cold smile on his lips. "Do it."

Barney didn't.