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snoggedI was going to wait a day or two before I posted again but I just couldn't help myself. I was just so excited to go back into this crazy little AU verse and I'm sorry if I'm flooding anyone's flist.
Title: Back To Mocha (sequel to Subject to Interpretation )
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Carter Bays and Craig Thomas own How I Met Your Mother. I don't. Please don't sue. All philosophical quotes are cited within the fic and were found by me using the powers of google-fu.
Pairing: College!Barney/College!Ted
Word Count: 2746
Rating: NC-17/FRAO; male slash, blowjobs, consensual sex (anal), romance/fluff
Spoilers: This story is AU because we all know that Ted and Barney never went to college together. But the story does link into the character’s backgrounds so “Game Night” and any episode featuring College!Ted. Again, this is the sequel to “Subject to Interpretation.”
Summary: Wherein the pretentious smartass and peace-loving hippie get it on...
Beta: The impeccable![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rockstarpeach. Any other mistakes are mine.
A/N: Written for the HIMYM Smut Duel and dedicated to everyone who read the original and demanded more from me.
There was a piano on the first floor lounge of his dormitory. The keys were worn and grey, the varnish was chipping but it played the same as any other. Each stroke, each note sang out a memory. Made him think of sparks, of tongues, of peace, of hippies, and most importantly, of Barney. It made his dick ache; lingering for a touch, a taste he hadn’t had since that memorable moment in the back room of a local coffee shop.
“Sing us a song, you’re the piano man. Sing us a song tonight. Well, we’re all in the mood for a melody and you’ve got us feeling all right.”
It didn’t take long before Marshall’s giant form filled the door frame, his mouth twisting into an unpleasant sneer. “Ted, you are not singing Billy Joel. It goes against Best Friend Code 3.02, which clearly states that the songs of Billy Joel may only be sung on a dare and only after six shots of tequila. Seeing as no one has dared you and your breath does not reek of booze, I must forbid this action.”
Ted sighed heavily, letting his fingers slide off the keys. “Marshall, you’re my best friend.”
Marshall nodded, taking a step closer to the piano. “I know, man. What’s up?”
“Henry David Thoreau once said, ‘many men go fishing all their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.’”
It didn’t take long for Marshall’s brows to furrow in confusion. He didn’t often admit to it, but he hated when Ted when into his damn philosophical diatribes instead of using the English language like everyone else.
Ted spotted the look instantly and rolled his eyes. He wished his friend didn’t act like a simple peasant. And besides, Ted could recount numerous occasions where he had politely listened to Marshall ramble on about some law case from the 1870’s despite feeling like it was all going over his head. It was just one of the many things that made them friends. “I met someone. But not the someone I ever expected to meet.”
“Yeah? What’s her name?” Marshall asked, curiosity lacing his tone.
“See, that’s the thing. It’s not a her,” Ted replied, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his fingers twiddled with the black frames of his glasses. He knew the statistics around ‘coming out the closet’ and he was a little terrified about how Marshall would react to it. But instead, he received a sigh of relief.
“So you’re gay? That’s cool.” Marshall shifted on the balls of his feet, chewing on his lip to stifle a chuckle. To be honest, he wasn’t that surprised. There had been a few signs. Namely, the framed picture of Nietzsche sitting on the dresser next to Ted’s bed. Marshall had sworn he had seen a couple of white specks dotting the frame but he had never said anything.
“That is an extremely common misconception. The word gay describes a happy or jovial person. And while that does describe, albeit weakly, the feelings of exhilaration I felt when he was on his knees bringing me to peaks of exquisite pleasure. I believe the better way to describe my mood would be uncertainty mixed with worry. Also, the more appropriate term would be homosexual,” Ted corrected.
“Whatever.” Marshall shrugged. He really didn’t care which way the fence was swinging for Ted or the word Ted wanted to use to describe it.
“Yes,” Ted mused. “Are you aware that the term ‘whatever’ is, in effect, an interjection? A sentence in its own right and used as a powerful conversational blocking tool?”
Marshall’s lips tightened, forming a straight line across his face. “Ted, you’re clearly avoiding whatever issue you’re having and I won't have it. You spout philosophical crap and word garbage every time there’s something bigger you don’t want to talk about. So spill.”
Ted narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth, making his breath hiss as he exhaled. He considered refuting Marshall’s argument but knew it would be a lost cause. Marshall could lawyer anyone in five minutes or less. His interrogation tactics were some of the best the department had seen…probably.
“Fine. I like Barney but I feel like I rushed into it. I mean, I walked in the door and it didn’t take more than fifteen minutes before my pants were around my ankles. It was intense and it was awesome and it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the last week but I can’t bring myself to go back in there.”
Marshall tensed, raising his hand and slapping Ted lightly across the cheek. Ted’s jaw dropped, clearly taken aback by his friend’s choice of violence. “Ted, you’re an idiot. A skinny, and slightly pretentious idiot who shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. So what if you tapped some dude’s ass in the bathroom of a coffee shop--”
“There was no tapping of asses,” Ted interrupted. “It was merely a simple blow job conducted in the back room, or supply room to be more accurate. There were creamers and sugar packets.”
Marshall’s nostrils flared and Ted felt a twinge of guilt twist inside his stomach for saying anything at all.
“Sorry, Marshall, move on.”
Marshall let out a deep breath and tapped his fingers against the top of the old piano. “What I’m trying to say, Ted, is that you can’t let this slip through your fingers. When you can’t stop thinking about someone, it usually means there are feelings. And feelings shouldn’t be ignored as long as both parties are consenting to said feelings. Now, you are going to march over to that coffee shop and you are going to kiss this man. I want to see feet being swept off, and fireworks exploding.”
Ted blinked, letting his eyes linger shut for a few seconds longer than average. “Do you really want to see it? I mean, I’m not sure I’m real comfortable with you watching no matter how many times you and Lily screw like bunnies in the bed above me.”
Marshall shook his head, his cheeks reddening with a little embarrassment and his cock twitching at the thought of Lily. Once he got Ted out of the building, that girl was going to get nailed to the wall in a fit of pants and moans. He glanced down at the piano bench and couldn’t help but wonder if it would be sturdy enough. Ted cleared his throat, and Marshall’s head shot back up, remembering he was still in a conversation with Ted. “Nah, I don’t need to see it. Just go get him, Tiger. And for once in your life, let yourself be happy. Let yourself be gay, man.”
Ted nodded at Marshall’s bright smile, grabbing his messenger bag from the floor near the piano and slinging it over his shoulders. He was going back. Back to the smell of mocha; back to tingling, testosterone-fueled kisses; back to Barney. But before he left, he had one quick rule to reiterate first.
“Marshall, repeat after me: I will not have sex in Ted’s bed.”
Marshall chuckled, but nodded his agreement. “I will not have sex in Ted’s bed.”
“Good,” Ted replied, feeling satisfied with his best friend’s answer. He turned on his heel and nearly broke into a full run once he hit the front door.
***
Barney looked up from the coffee bar, gripping the damp scrub rag in his hands, as the bell jingled. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. It had been nearly three days since he had met Ted. Three days since he had last felt his heart flutter inside his chest. Three days since…
He saw the familiar tousled hair, the familiar curve and angle of wiry muscle, the familiar black frames and he bit his lip, praying that this wasn’t just some cruel joke fate was playing on him today.
“Ted,” Barney mouthed, letting the rag drop from his fingers. It hit the counter with a soft thud and if by magic, made Ted materialize in front of him. Ted’s hand shot out to grab his and Barney’s breath hitched, using his other hand to push a lock of blond hair out of his eyes.
“Barney, I’m an ass,” Ted said, exhaling sharply. It was not something he liked to admit to but in this case, it was true. He had promised Barney he’d be back and he had reneged on his promise. “I totally understand if you never want to…”
Barney gulped, his free hand finding Ted’s cheek. There was warmth. There was skin. There was bone. “Ted, I…”
Barney glanced over at Jilly, an eighteen year old Goth-punk rocker who was running the shop with him today, and she gave him a thumbs up and a broad smile.
Barney tugged at Ted’s hand and Ted nearly scampered over the top of the counter to get to the supply room. Barney pushed open the door, hands tangling in Ted’s short hair, pressing up against him and letting him feel just how hard he was with need.
Ted moaned, kicking the door shut behind them with his foot and knocking them both off balance. Barney felt gravity betray them as he toppled onto Ted, feeling the cold cement of the floor dig into his knees. Ted hissed from the smarting pain in his back muscles but quickly pushed past it, shoving his tongue down Barney’s throat.
Barney grunted, rubbing himself against Ted’s trousers. His dick twitched and jumped, threatening to burst a hole right through the fabric just so it could get closer to the raging hard-on Ted was sporting.
Ted’s breath hitched as Barney dry-humped him, amazed by how horny this was making him, how hot it was. He wanted Barney, wanted to take Barney, wanted to push himself inside the hippie and live there forever. He pressed his palms against Barney’s hips and rolled them so that Barney was suddenly underneath. Barney grunted softly as Ted’s weight settled on his abdomen.
Barney’s hair splayed out around his head like a golden crown and Ted licked his lips, smiling, as slipped his fingers under Barney’s shirt and slowly guided it over his head. His fingers grazed the smooth planes of muscle and he pinched one of Barney’s nipples, rolling it to hardness. Barney whimpered closing his eyes as Ted found the other nipple, pinching and tugging the bud until it was erect and hard. Then, he pulled off his own shirt, crumpling the fabric into a tiny ball and tossing it across the room.
Their lips crushed together again, a mad and eager dance of passion and longing. Their tongues rolled and swirled together like old friends reacquainting themselves. It was so good, so right, so....perfect.
“God, you are so hot,” Ted breathed, punctuating each word with a searing kiss. Barney didn’t even notice Ted’s fingers slipping between them, until he felt a sudden pressure on his cock as Ted stroked him through his pants.
Barney was certain his eyes were going to roll back into his skull, or that he would spray his load all over his khakis, which would not look so good in accordance with the coffee shop’s health code.
“Ted,” Barney moaned, thrusting his hips forward and sliding his leg between Ted’s thighs. “Please…”
“Please what?” Ted asked, pulling his hand away from Barney’s groin and running his short fingernails along Barney’s exposed treasure trail.
“Fuck me,” Barney breathed, looking up at Ted through hooded, lustful eyes.
Ted groaned. There was something so damn hot about the way Barney said that. It would make any self respecting person immediately fall to his command. It made Ted realize that there was no way he was letting Barney out of his sight ever again. It would be too easy for Barney to just use that sexy voice with anyone. And Ted couldn’t stand the thought of that. Barney was his.
Ted scooted off Barney’s lap and both men worked the clasps on their jeans, zippers clicking out simultaneous melodies of need and desire before they fell to the ground. Ted didn’t even bother to scoot his boxers off but instead pulled his cock out, letting the elastic waistband tighten against his balls. Barney, on the other hand, lay on the ground in front of him, a true feast of nakedness just begging to be taken, to be fucked.
Ted dipped his head to capture Barney’s cock in his mouth, slicking the tip and shaft with his tongue. His tongue flicked against Barney’s frenulum and Barney rocked his hips forward, hitting the roof of Ted’s mouth and almost immediately spraying his load against the back of Ted’s throat.
Ted groaned, and his fingers fumbled, blindly groping for the bottle of lube he had shoved in his pants pocket before he had even gotten to the piano. After a few achingly long seconds, his search returned fruitful and he let Barney’s dick go with a loud pop. Ted squirted a copious amount of lube onto his cock, massaging it into his skin. Barney spread his legs and Ted moved in to the space, pushing a finger against the tight ring of muscle.
Tears pricked at the corners of Barney’s eyes from the pain and it made Ted remove his finger. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Barney nodded. “Yes, Ted. I…trust you. You’re my…best friend.”
The words tugged at Ted’s heart strings. There was no way he was going to mention the fact that Marshall was in fact, his best friend. It just didn’t seem like the nice thing to do and he would hate to be the one responsible for making that lusty grin vanish into thin air. Instead, he smiled softly and poured some lube onto his fingers and rubbed it against Barney’s pucker.
When Ted felt confident that his lover was properly slicked, he lined himself up with Barney’s entrance and slowly guided himself inside, stopping every second to let Barney adjust. It was slow and experimental. A testing of the waters. A journey into unmarked territory.
It didn’t take long before Ted’s dick brushed against Barney’s prostate, making the hippie buck and moan. Ted couldn’t tear his eyes away from the undulating back muscles and the way Barney’s spine curled every time he hit that sweet spot on the backstroke. It awakened something primal in him. It made him pump his hips harder, made him go deeper. It felt like he was trying to shove himself so far into Barney that they would become one being, one person. It was a feeling that he wanted to get lost in forever and he wanted to take Barney down with him.
Barney clenched his ass and rocked his hips, meeting each one of Ted’s thrusts with excitement. He was no longer the innocent boy taking people’s coffee orders. This thing, whatever it was, had transformed him. This was exactly what people meant by living life to the fullest.
A half-growl, half-grunt came from Ted’s lips as he unloaded his hot spunk into Barney’s ass and promptly collapsed on top of the man who was so much more than a sexy affair.
“Mine,” Ted whispered, the heat and exhaustion of sex making him feel less than coherent at the moment. “All mine.”
Barney nodded, letting his eyes close as he drifted into the soft, warm afterglow. One thing was for sure, he and Ted would be doing this again and again.
Ted pressed his head against Barney’s shoulder, and traced the lines on his stomach, passing over a faint scar that curled around his side.
“Kidney surgery. 2 ½,” Barney replied, voice barely above a whisper. “Had enough fluid in it to a fill a football.”
Ted pressed his finger against it, trying to read it as if it were Braille, as if he could imprint it as a memory in his mind. “It’s awesome.”
“Thanks,” Barney said, settling his hand on Ted’s shoulder.
Being here, in this moment, reminded Barney of the small book of philosophical quotations he had picked up on a lark from the college book store. There had been a quote that had been stuck in his head ever since but it seemed silly to say it out loud. It seemed so obvious. So apparent. Rumi had really hit a nail on the head when he had said:
‘Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.’
Title: Back To Mocha (sequel to Subject to Interpretation )
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Carter Bays and Craig Thomas own How I Met Your Mother. I don't. Please don't sue. All philosophical quotes are cited within the fic and were found by me using the powers of google-fu.
Pairing: College!Barney/College!Ted
Word Count: 2746
Rating: NC-17/FRAO; male slash, blowjobs, consensual sex (anal), romance/fluff
Spoilers: This story is AU because we all know that Ted and Barney never went to college together. But the story does link into the character’s backgrounds so “Game Night” and any episode featuring College!Ted. Again, this is the sequel to “Subject to Interpretation.”
Summary: Wherein the pretentious smartass and peace-loving hippie get it on...
Beta: The impeccable
rockstarpeach. Any other mistakes are mine.A/N: Written for the HIMYM Smut Duel and dedicated to everyone who read the original and demanded more from me.
There was a piano on the first floor lounge of his dormitory. The keys were worn and grey, the varnish was chipping but it played the same as any other. Each stroke, each note sang out a memory. Made him think of sparks, of tongues, of peace, of hippies, and most importantly, of Barney. It made his dick ache; lingering for a touch, a taste he hadn’t had since that memorable moment in the back room of a local coffee shop.
“Sing us a song, you’re the piano man. Sing us a song tonight. Well, we’re all in the mood for a melody and you’ve got us feeling all right.”
It didn’t take long before Marshall’s giant form filled the door frame, his mouth twisting into an unpleasant sneer. “Ted, you are not singing Billy Joel. It goes against Best Friend Code 3.02, which clearly states that the songs of Billy Joel may only be sung on a dare and only after six shots of tequila. Seeing as no one has dared you and your breath does not reek of booze, I must forbid this action.”
Ted sighed heavily, letting his fingers slide off the keys. “Marshall, you’re my best friend.”
Marshall nodded, taking a step closer to the piano. “I know, man. What’s up?”
“Henry David Thoreau once said, ‘many men go fishing all their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.’”
It didn’t take long for Marshall’s brows to furrow in confusion. He didn’t often admit to it, but he hated when Ted when into his damn philosophical diatribes instead of using the English language like everyone else.
Ted spotted the look instantly and rolled his eyes. He wished his friend didn’t act like a simple peasant. And besides, Ted could recount numerous occasions where he had politely listened to Marshall ramble on about some law case from the 1870’s despite feeling like it was all going over his head. It was just one of the many things that made them friends. “I met someone. But not the someone I ever expected to meet.”
“Yeah? What’s her name?” Marshall asked, curiosity lacing his tone.
“See, that’s the thing. It’s not a her,” Ted replied, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his fingers twiddled with the black frames of his glasses. He knew the statistics around ‘coming out the closet’ and he was a little terrified about how Marshall would react to it. But instead, he received a sigh of relief.
“So you’re gay? That’s cool.” Marshall shifted on the balls of his feet, chewing on his lip to stifle a chuckle. To be honest, he wasn’t that surprised. There had been a few signs. Namely, the framed picture of Nietzsche sitting on the dresser next to Ted’s bed. Marshall had sworn he had seen a couple of white specks dotting the frame but he had never said anything.
“That is an extremely common misconception. The word gay describes a happy or jovial person. And while that does describe, albeit weakly, the feelings of exhilaration I felt when he was on his knees bringing me to peaks of exquisite pleasure. I believe the better way to describe my mood would be uncertainty mixed with worry. Also, the more appropriate term would be homosexual,” Ted corrected.
“Whatever.” Marshall shrugged. He really didn’t care which way the fence was swinging for Ted or the word Ted wanted to use to describe it.
“Yes,” Ted mused. “Are you aware that the term ‘whatever’ is, in effect, an interjection? A sentence in its own right and used as a powerful conversational blocking tool?”
Marshall’s lips tightened, forming a straight line across his face. “Ted, you’re clearly avoiding whatever issue you’re having and I won't have it. You spout philosophical crap and word garbage every time there’s something bigger you don’t want to talk about. So spill.”
Ted narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth, making his breath hiss as he exhaled. He considered refuting Marshall’s argument but knew it would be a lost cause. Marshall could lawyer anyone in five minutes or less. His interrogation tactics were some of the best the department had seen…probably.
“Fine. I like Barney but I feel like I rushed into it. I mean, I walked in the door and it didn’t take more than fifteen minutes before my pants were around my ankles. It was intense and it was awesome and it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the last week but I can’t bring myself to go back in there.”
Marshall tensed, raising his hand and slapping Ted lightly across the cheek. Ted’s jaw dropped, clearly taken aback by his friend’s choice of violence. “Ted, you’re an idiot. A skinny, and slightly pretentious idiot who shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. So what if you tapped some dude’s ass in the bathroom of a coffee shop--”
“There was no tapping of asses,” Ted interrupted. “It was merely a simple blow job conducted in the back room, or supply room to be more accurate. There were creamers and sugar packets.”
Marshall’s nostrils flared and Ted felt a twinge of guilt twist inside his stomach for saying anything at all.
“Sorry, Marshall, move on.”
Marshall let out a deep breath and tapped his fingers against the top of the old piano. “What I’m trying to say, Ted, is that you can’t let this slip through your fingers. When you can’t stop thinking about someone, it usually means there are feelings. And feelings shouldn’t be ignored as long as both parties are consenting to said feelings. Now, you are going to march over to that coffee shop and you are going to kiss this man. I want to see feet being swept off, and fireworks exploding.”
Ted blinked, letting his eyes linger shut for a few seconds longer than average. “Do you really want to see it? I mean, I’m not sure I’m real comfortable with you watching no matter how many times you and Lily screw like bunnies in the bed above me.”
Marshall shook his head, his cheeks reddening with a little embarrassment and his cock twitching at the thought of Lily. Once he got Ted out of the building, that girl was going to get nailed to the wall in a fit of pants and moans. He glanced down at the piano bench and couldn’t help but wonder if it would be sturdy enough. Ted cleared his throat, and Marshall’s head shot back up, remembering he was still in a conversation with Ted. “Nah, I don’t need to see it. Just go get him, Tiger. And for once in your life, let yourself be happy. Let yourself be gay, man.”
Ted nodded at Marshall’s bright smile, grabbing his messenger bag from the floor near the piano and slinging it over his shoulders. He was going back. Back to the smell of mocha; back to tingling, testosterone-fueled kisses; back to Barney. But before he left, he had one quick rule to reiterate first.
“Marshall, repeat after me: I will not have sex in Ted’s bed.”
Marshall chuckled, but nodded his agreement. “I will not have sex in Ted’s bed.”
“Good,” Ted replied, feeling satisfied with his best friend’s answer. He turned on his heel and nearly broke into a full run once he hit the front door.
***
Barney looked up from the coffee bar, gripping the damp scrub rag in his hands, as the bell jingled. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. It had been nearly three days since he had met Ted. Three days since he had last felt his heart flutter inside his chest. Three days since…
He saw the familiar tousled hair, the familiar curve and angle of wiry muscle, the familiar black frames and he bit his lip, praying that this wasn’t just some cruel joke fate was playing on him today.
“Ted,” Barney mouthed, letting the rag drop from his fingers. It hit the counter with a soft thud and if by magic, made Ted materialize in front of him. Ted’s hand shot out to grab his and Barney’s breath hitched, using his other hand to push a lock of blond hair out of his eyes.
“Barney, I’m an ass,” Ted said, exhaling sharply. It was not something he liked to admit to but in this case, it was true. He had promised Barney he’d be back and he had reneged on his promise. “I totally understand if you never want to…”
Barney gulped, his free hand finding Ted’s cheek. There was warmth. There was skin. There was bone. “Ted, I…”
Barney glanced over at Jilly, an eighteen year old Goth-punk rocker who was running the shop with him today, and she gave him a thumbs up and a broad smile.
Barney tugged at Ted’s hand and Ted nearly scampered over the top of the counter to get to the supply room. Barney pushed open the door, hands tangling in Ted’s short hair, pressing up against him and letting him feel just how hard he was with need.
Ted moaned, kicking the door shut behind them with his foot and knocking them both off balance. Barney felt gravity betray them as he toppled onto Ted, feeling the cold cement of the floor dig into his knees. Ted hissed from the smarting pain in his back muscles but quickly pushed past it, shoving his tongue down Barney’s throat.
Barney grunted, rubbing himself against Ted’s trousers. His dick twitched and jumped, threatening to burst a hole right through the fabric just so it could get closer to the raging hard-on Ted was sporting.
Ted’s breath hitched as Barney dry-humped him, amazed by how horny this was making him, how hot it was. He wanted Barney, wanted to take Barney, wanted to push himself inside the hippie and live there forever. He pressed his palms against Barney’s hips and rolled them so that Barney was suddenly underneath. Barney grunted softly as Ted’s weight settled on his abdomen.
Barney’s hair splayed out around his head like a golden crown and Ted licked his lips, smiling, as slipped his fingers under Barney’s shirt and slowly guided it over his head. His fingers grazed the smooth planes of muscle and he pinched one of Barney’s nipples, rolling it to hardness. Barney whimpered closing his eyes as Ted found the other nipple, pinching and tugging the bud until it was erect and hard. Then, he pulled off his own shirt, crumpling the fabric into a tiny ball and tossing it across the room.
Their lips crushed together again, a mad and eager dance of passion and longing. Their tongues rolled and swirled together like old friends reacquainting themselves. It was so good, so right, so....perfect.
“God, you are so hot,” Ted breathed, punctuating each word with a searing kiss. Barney didn’t even notice Ted’s fingers slipping between them, until he felt a sudden pressure on his cock as Ted stroked him through his pants.
Barney was certain his eyes were going to roll back into his skull, or that he would spray his load all over his khakis, which would not look so good in accordance with the coffee shop’s health code.
“Ted,” Barney moaned, thrusting his hips forward and sliding his leg between Ted’s thighs. “Please…”
“Please what?” Ted asked, pulling his hand away from Barney’s groin and running his short fingernails along Barney’s exposed treasure trail.
“Fuck me,” Barney breathed, looking up at Ted through hooded, lustful eyes.
Ted groaned. There was something so damn hot about the way Barney said that. It would make any self respecting person immediately fall to his command. It made Ted realize that there was no way he was letting Barney out of his sight ever again. It would be too easy for Barney to just use that sexy voice with anyone. And Ted couldn’t stand the thought of that. Barney was his.
Ted scooted off Barney’s lap and both men worked the clasps on their jeans, zippers clicking out simultaneous melodies of need and desire before they fell to the ground. Ted didn’t even bother to scoot his boxers off but instead pulled his cock out, letting the elastic waistband tighten against his balls. Barney, on the other hand, lay on the ground in front of him, a true feast of nakedness just begging to be taken, to be fucked.
Ted dipped his head to capture Barney’s cock in his mouth, slicking the tip and shaft with his tongue. His tongue flicked against Barney’s frenulum and Barney rocked his hips forward, hitting the roof of Ted’s mouth and almost immediately spraying his load against the back of Ted’s throat.
Ted groaned, and his fingers fumbled, blindly groping for the bottle of lube he had shoved in his pants pocket before he had even gotten to the piano. After a few achingly long seconds, his search returned fruitful and he let Barney’s dick go with a loud pop. Ted squirted a copious amount of lube onto his cock, massaging it into his skin. Barney spread his legs and Ted moved in to the space, pushing a finger against the tight ring of muscle.
Tears pricked at the corners of Barney’s eyes from the pain and it made Ted remove his finger. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Barney nodded. “Yes, Ted. I…trust you. You’re my…best friend.”
The words tugged at Ted’s heart strings. There was no way he was going to mention the fact that Marshall was in fact, his best friend. It just didn’t seem like the nice thing to do and he would hate to be the one responsible for making that lusty grin vanish into thin air. Instead, he smiled softly and poured some lube onto his fingers and rubbed it against Barney’s pucker.
When Ted felt confident that his lover was properly slicked, he lined himself up with Barney’s entrance and slowly guided himself inside, stopping every second to let Barney adjust. It was slow and experimental. A testing of the waters. A journey into unmarked territory.
It didn’t take long before Ted’s dick brushed against Barney’s prostate, making the hippie buck and moan. Ted couldn’t tear his eyes away from the undulating back muscles and the way Barney’s spine curled every time he hit that sweet spot on the backstroke. It awakened something primal in him. It made him pump his hips harder, made him go deeper. It felt like he was trying to shove himself so far into Barney that they would become one being, one person. It was a feeling that he wanted to get lost in forever and he wanted to take Barney down with him.
Barney clenched his ass and rocked his hips, meeting each one of Ted’s thrusts with excitement. He was no longer the innocent boy taking people’s coffee orders. This thing, whatever it was, had transformed him. This was exactly what people meant by living life to the fullest.
A half-growl, half-grunt came from Ted’s lips as he unloaded his hot spunk into Barney’s ass and promptly collapsed on top of the man who was so much more than a sexy affair.
“Mine,” Ted whispered, the heat and exhaustion of sex making him feel less than coherent at the moment. “All mine.”
Barney nodded, letting his eyes close as he drifted into the soft, warm afterglow. One thing was for sure, he and Ted would be doing this again and again.
Ted pressed his head against Barney’s shoulder, and traced the lines on his stomach, passing over a faint scar that curled around his side.
“Kidney surgery. 2 ½,” Barney replied, voice barely above a whisper. “Had enough fluid in it to a fill a football.”
Ted pressed his finger against it, trying to read it as if it were Braille, as if he could imprint it as a memory in his mind. “It’s awesome.”
“Thanks,” Barney said, settling his hand on Ted’s shoulder.
Being here, in this moment, reminded Barney of the small book of philosophical quotations he had picked up on a lark from the college book store. There had been a quote that had been stuck in his head ever since but it seemed silly to say it out loud. It seemed so obvious. So apparent. Rumi had really hit a nail on the head when he had said:
‘Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.’
