He has the day off, and he has his orders.
Marshall and Lily had to work, despite the late night the three of them spent, but Barney had the luxury of sleeping in, in his own large, comfortable bed. Of course, they made sure he understood before leaving for the day that he was not to leave the apartment until they returned that night -- not that he minds. He has plenty to keep him occupied: movies, magazines... memories of the night before.
And he didn't really feel like getting dressed, anyway.
Around five he decides to do something nice for them and cook dinner, to be ready for them when they arrive. He winces at the mere thought of splattered grease burns, and pulls on a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of sweat pants to protect himself. He can easily be undressed again by the time they arrive.
He wasn't counting on their coming home early.
The radio is loud, and he isn't aware of their presence until he feels a strong hand wrap around his throat, pulling him back against a firm male body behind him. Marshall's other hand catches his wrist, and his hand tenses, white-knuckled around the spatula it holds.
"You don't listen very well, do you?"
Mitchell's voice is a low rumble in his ear, teasing and warning at the same time. Barney swallows hard against the restraining hand at his throat, eyes fluttering closed as he instinctively leans back against the security of Marshall's warm, steady form.
Lily moves into Barney's view, smiling mysteriously as she gently takes the spatula from his hand and lays it on the counter behind her, reaching to turn off the burner.
No sense letting it go to waste, after all.
She glances at the counter, an indecisive frown creasing her brow before she selects a razor-sharp blade from the chopping block. Barney feels a delicious quiver of fear and anticipation as she turns to face him, a wicked gleam in her emerald eyes.
Restrained by Marshall's hands, he's helpless to resist as she slowly trails the tip of the blade along the line of his throat, then down to dip below the collar of his shirt and tug forward gently at the top button. She meets his eyes with a playful smirk.
"You must not like this shirt, much, huh, Barney?"
His breath catches in his throat at the tickling sensation of the cold steel against his skin.
"I-I'm sorry... I just thought..."
"But you're not supposed to think, Barney," Marshall reminds him sternly, a slight tightening of his hand silencing Barney's explanation. "You're supposed to obey. And we told you not to get dressed today."
Lily leans in close, and it's almost as if they knew that they'd find him disobedient, it's so well-timed.
"You know how many times I had to visit the ladies' room today, Barney? Just thinking about you here all day, alone and naked and waiting for us?" Her expression shifts into a pout of displeasure. "And now it's all ruined."
"I'm sorry," he whispers again, offering no further excuses. After a moment's hesitation, he adds a tentative token of his submission.
Lily smiles, pleased -- and then her eyes narrow, becoming almost predatory in their intensity as she holds his gaze and slowly slices through the threads that hold the buttons onto his shirt.
The shirt falls open, and Barney's torso is bared to her. Marshall tilts his head upward, preventing him from seeing what she's doing as she uses the blade to toy with his navel, his nipples, the trail of coarse hair that leads down past the hem of his pants.
She teasingly pulls at the elastic waist with the knife, her smile widening when Barney draws in a sharp gasp of alarm.
"Shhh," Marshall murmurs in his ear, holding him steady though he's trembling by now. "Trust us."
Barney nods slightly, though his mouth is dry and his palms damp with a very natural fear. That blade is uncomfortably close to his genitals, and he knows how very much he's at the mercy of his two doms.
Lily gently slides the sweat pants down over his hips, allowing them to pool around his ankles, before drawing the tip of the blade lightly, slowly, along the length of his half-hard cock. She smiles as it twitches slightly under the contact, and Barney shivers in apprehension and anticipation.
"P-please..." he breathes out, unable to fully conceal his dread.
Lily's expression softens as she meets his pleading eyes, and she trails a gentle hand down his cheek as she moves the blade away. Her smile fades in an instant, her eyes hardening as she orders sharply.
"On your knees."
Marshall releases him to allow him to obey, and Barney sinks to his knees on the floor without hesitation, eyes bowed in submission, hands crossed behind his back without having to be told. Lily reaches down to tilt his head up, silently insisting that he meet her eyes.
"Next time we tell you not to get dressed," she says severely. "You won't get dressed. Will you, Barney?"
"No, Mistress," Barney whispers meekly, holding her gaze with solemn regard.
"Good." Lily is satisfied. "Now get up, and finish cooking our dinner... so we can give you your punishment."
She looks entirely too pleased at the prospect -- and Barney has to admit that he is, too, a little bit. He sighs with resignation as he rises to his feet and takes up the spatula again, adjusting the heat on the stove to resume his project.
It's going to be a long night -- and he can't wait.