For Limoversary 2014, celebrating 7 years of our favorite couple. "Are you sure? Because, unlike Nathaniel, I won't say no." Sometimes all you need is a little one-on-one instruction. AU season 1.

Somehow, over the sounds of breathless little gasps and the friction of the finest designer garments sliding against each other on superhigh thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, the sound of rustling outside the suite door startled them.

Their lips broke apart and he raised his head.

"Ignore it," she commanded, pulling his head back down to resume the kiss.

After a second's pause, his lips were back on hers. But there was no ignoring what came next.

Because Blair might have the stage set for seduction and might feel that now, right this minute, after waiting for so long, it was finally happening. She was going to make love with Nathaniel Archibald….

Until the door opened….

And Manhattan's favorite It Girl walked in.

"Nate? Blair?! Oh…sorry!" Serena seemed confused, but managed to back out of the doorway and close the door behind her.

"Serena, wait!" And just like that, Nate was off in a flash after her.

Like that was anything new. Blair sank into the sheets with a sigh, letting the fury and shame course through her. So close. She'd been so close. And then her so-called best friend had ruined everything. A little voice inside Blair's head grumbled that it shouldn't be this difficult. Girls lost their virginity every day. Shy girls. Awkward girls. Drunk girls. So why was she, Blair Waldorf, Queen of Constance, designers' darling, the girl who had a line item for La Perla in her monthly allowance, lying there in Chuck Bass's suite with said La Perlas still on? After being raised to believe that her virginity was a priceless thing, it appeared that she couldn't even give it away.

After a few moments, she sighed again and got up, rearranging her dress and straightening her lacy stockings. She was just slipping back into her heels when the door opened again.

"Nate?" Before she could contain it, the word leapt hopefully out of her mouth.

"Afraid not." Well, if wasn't the deep tones of the devil's own, her nemesis and the resident of the suite. Chuck Bass.

She ignored him and slid her other foot into the remaining Louboutin.

"I must say, Waldorf, I am surprised," he taunted. "There I was at the brunch, cooling my heels and waiting to hear news of your successful conquest, when a blur of blonde streaks by, followed by your prey. You must be losing your touch."

Blair snorted. "Hah! Losing my mind is more like it," she said through gritted teeth.

"I told you, you need to seal the deal and be rid of the Serena problem for good." He moved closer to Blair, appraising her. "What can you be doing wrong, I wonder. A pretty girl, a willing girl…perhaps too willing? Could he smell your desperation? Were your kisses too bold…or too innocent?" By this time, he was whispering the words against the shell of her ear.

Chuck really didn't expect her to answer his taunts, but the very last thing he expected was for her to whirl around, dark curls and lace skirt flying, to grip him by the lapels of his linen morning suit and pull his face close to hers. Maybe, just maybe he'd gone a little too far.

"Fine then, Chuck, why don't you tell me what I'm doing wrong?" Anger reverberated through her words and sparked in her eyes.

With that, she pressed her lips to his.

It felt like he'd been struck by lightning. For a second, he was stunned into immobility, in a very unBass-like way. Then the sweetness and the heat of those amazing lips moving against his own seduced him into responding. Had they been like this for seconds, hours, days? His lips had just begun to part hers and his tongue was beginning to tease the curves of those heavenly red lips, inviting her tongue out to play. It was an invitation that was impossible to resist. Her velvety tongue swept over his lips, curling around his tongue in a provocative dance.

He forgot everything. He forgot that this was his best friend's girlfriend. He forgot that Chuck Bass was not that big on kissing. To be honest, he may have even forgotten how to breathe.

Until the kiss suddenly stopped. Blair let go of his lapels and stared up at him with fathomless dark eyes.

"So you tell me, Chuck, what's wrong with my kisses?" Was it his imagination or was her voice raspy and shaky now?

It was all Chuck could do to bite back the first words that sprang to mind. 'Not a blessed thing. You're perfect.' But before he could collect his breath and his thoughts, a loud rap sounded at the door.

"Is this place Grand Central Station or something?" Blair growled.

"I wasn't expecting anyone," Chuck defended. "Here, just pop in my closet and I'll get rid of them."

"What?!" Blair grumbled, but nevertheless slid into Chuck's walk-in. She was still fuming as she surveyed the well-lit, well organized space. It smelled like scotch, a faint hint of tobacco, some very expensive and musky men's cologne, and the not-so-subtle undertones of a scent that could only be described as…Chuck Bass. Folded shirts lined the walls from ceiling to floor, as did suits and slacks on hangers. It looked like a cross between a sacred shrine and a Madison Avenue haberdashery. OMG, she was trapped in the Temple of Turnbull & Asser!

Blair was broken out of her fashion reverie by the sound of the suite door closing and the cool, measured voice of one Bartholomew Bass.

She may or may not have moved closer to the door so as to hear better.

"Charles, I've been looking for you. It's imperative that we speak about a phone call I received this morning."

"It's really not a good time, Father." Chuck sounded a little nervous. Of course, who wouldn't be nervous if your parental unit bore more than a passing resemblance to a great white shark? Even the sound of his voice chilled Blair. She could already feel the goosebumps rising on her arms.

"It's highly important to your future, so I suggest you make time." Bart cleared his throat. "The headmaster from St. Jude called this morning. It seems your grades have dropped…again. And your attendance is abysmal. This is not why I send you to one of the best schools in the city, Charles. You are on probation, both with your school and with me." Blair could imagine his cold, clear blue eyes as he made his case, and she gave a little shiver.

"My patience has come to an end," Bart continued, "If your grades and the academic record don't improve by the end of the school year, I'll withdraw you from St. Jude's and send you to military school in Pennsylvania. No more allowance, no more parties, no more limo."

On opposite sides of the door, both Chuck and Blair were shocked into silence. Bart wouldn't….couldn't….could he? She tried to picture Chuck in a sea of military automatons with shorn heads and woolen uniforms. Her mind refused to even contemplate it. Wasn't Chuck allergic to natural fibers that weren't silk or linen?

Blair moved away from the door, her mind whirling in an effort to come up with some way to help her friend. It was ironic, she thought. He needed academic skills, whereas she needed seductive ones. If only they could switch places…

She suddenly realized the suite had become very quiet. Bart must have left. Trust him to drop a bomb like that and then waltz off on some other international adventure. Blair conveniently forgot that her own father had done the same the previous year with his flight to France in the wake of a sex scandal.

Blair slowly turned the door handle and took a peek outside. Chuck was standing in the same position he had been during their earlier conversation, looking shaken by his father's ultimatum. He looked surprised to see her, as though the unexpected visit had wiped out all memory of her earlier presence.

"Well, that was most unexpected," Blair stated flatly, "However, I'm here to make you a proposition."

Chuck looked over at the rumpled bed and then back at her. Reliably, the corners of his mouth turned up into a smirk and his voice returned with amused confidence. "Are you sure? Because, unlike Nathaniel, I won't say no."

"Not that kind of proposition!" She slapped his arm just a tad too hard to be strictly playful.

"You need to raise your grades. I need to…raise Nate's interest. What do you say we help each other out?"

Chuck tilted his head to the side and regarded her quizzically. "I'm not sure I follow, Waldorf. Are you offering to do my homework for me in exchange for…?"

"For teaching me…," she paused and blushed up to the roots of her hair, "how to please a man. Nothing I've tried with Nate has worked so far…." To her everlasting shame, some of the anguish she was feeling came out in her voice. "So maybe I should defer to your overwhelming experience?"

"In pleasing men?" His grin widened into a smile.

"In knowing what they like. You're a man, right? You've been swaggering about it since we were in sixth grade! Besides, you know Nate better than anyone else."

He really couldn't contest either his masculinity or Nathaniel knowledge. "And you've been his girlfriend since elementary school. If it's the technical points of the matter you're worried about, I'm surprised you haven't researched it. In all our years of scheming, I've never known you to neglect gathering intel before."

She sighed. "Some things, Chuck, you can't learn in books."

"Even if your relationship is 'in transition' right now, you're still Manhattan's up-and-coming couple. You don't think it'll sort itself out?"

"Serena's already taken his virginity. It's only a matter of time before she takes him too. If I don't do something now, something desperate, I've lost. So teach me how to seduce him."

Of course Blair would look at this with clear-eyed cunning.

"This wasn't quite the role I'd pictured for myself in your deflowering."

"You know, I didn't expect you to fight me on this. Isn't corrupting virgins just another item on your daily to-do list?"

"You're not just an everyday girl, Blair." It was different with her. He couldn't put into words how it was, but the distinction was there.

"You need me, Bass. That English lit and calculus isn't going to do itself. Not that I'm going to do it, mind you, but I have no doubt we can save your grades and your bowties. Impressive closet, by the way. Another minute in there and I was going to start praying to the god of Armani. Just imagine scratchy wool uniforms, cafeteria-style dining and someone cropping off all of this." She wound her fingers through his thick, dark hair and pulled on it none too gently.

They both shuddered, though from the terrifying mental images or something more was anyone's guess.

"You make a compelling case," he admitted. "Alright, I'm in."

"A couple of conditions first: One, I won't do your homework for you, and two, I won't have sex with you either."

His mocking tone returned. "As previously stated, it's an honor to play any size role in your deflowering."

"If all goes to plan, I keep Nate and you keep your limo and your lifestyle. We both win."

"You and me for the win then." Chuck extended a hand to Blair and as their fingers clasped, a jolt of electricity passed between them. Their eyes met as their hands parted, each feeling as though something important had just occurred.

They had a deal. They had a plan. They were Chuck and Blair.

What could possibly go wrong?

To Be Continued

Special thanks to Parisinthe1920s for creating and organizing Limoversary, and to Chrys1130 and SnowedUnderNJ for being wonderfully supportive friends.

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