Author: Sky Samuelle

Rated: T sexual situations

Spoilers: Victor,Victrola

Summary: Nobody enjoys their first time. Except Blair Waldrof: It was nothing like she expected, nothing like she had supposed casual sex had to feel, after all those times of hearing Serena giggle and joke and forget about it. It wasn't easy or simple or inconsequential.


It's done. I'm officially no longer a virgin. My First Time is gone.

Strange how the realization sprung on her, catching her half-unaware and lost.

No longer than five minutes ago, she had been holding herself up over his lap, one of her knees on each side of him, her hands clutching his shoulders as his fingers got her off for the second time by simply caressing her sex and murmuring raspy, vulgar endearments in her ear.

Only five minutes ago, she was been open and willing, whimpering with no shame and close to no inhibitions, her eyes closed and her head thrown back while she strived to stay lucid enough to memorize for future reference those secret spots his digits had knowingly located and were currently, expertly applying on just the right amount of pressure to send her inner walls contracting and shuddering in what she thought it was an orgasm.

Who knew that this was even possible, anyway? She was always been sure a girl had to be …well, not a virgin to draw pleasure from this kind of, uhm- contact.

God, I sound like a prude! No wonder I'm freaking out.

Until five, two seconds ago, she had had no problem with the idea of him deflowering her. To say the truth, she was been morbidly, curiously eager to consume the act, at last- and now suddenly, everything was different.

It had melted away the easy confidence induced by her rebellious performance on the stage of a burlesque club, the high of discovering she could dance and simply stopping of being herself – Blair Waldrof, flawed and heartbroken and simply not used to be looked at with desire- while becoming for one night the wild one, the girl who could leave even Chuck Bass, douche and player extraordinaire, dumbstruck and in awe.

Suddenly, Blair had remembered who she was, whose limo she lying down in, with whom SHE was doing this.

It all brought her back to the realization that now that Chuck Bass was inside her that she had no clue about whatsoever what she was supposed to be doing.

"Did I hurt you?"

Chuck's voice sounded different than she had ever heard it, rough and soft within the same rich, low breath, and she tried to forget the utter awkwardness of the moment by reminding herself he was not some stranger but one of her closest friends.

"A little. " she whispered timidly and felt herself blushing profusely as she noticed how limp and still she had gone under his body.

This was nothing like she expected, nothing like she had supposed casual sex had to feel, after all those times of hearing Serena giggle and joke and forget about it. It wasn't easy or simple or inconsequential.

For one, she felt very bare, exposed and vulnerable spread like that underneath Chuck. Never before it had occurred to her how larger, stronger, bigger than her he was and now she couldn't seem to get over it.

Or get over how impossibly close he was, above and around her.

God, he was…uhm, naked and she was very, very intensely aware of every inch of his nude, clammy skin pressed against hers. His body was slender and taut, and Blair had reveled in undress it, revealing it to her curious gaze as he did the same to hers.

For a mad moment she wondered what he had thought of the clumsy boldness of her caresses, while her hands explored and provoked him, her eyes studying intently his reactions as she had done this or that, but then Blair remembered vividly the rich, wanton timbre of his moans and how he had taken her hand in his and led it lower, wanting that she touched…

The mental impression of what he felt like in her hand, of the sharp sound he had stolen from her as lips brushed her nipple for the first time, sent her reeling, even more hot and terrified.

There were no words to describe the feeling of him inside her, so deep and big, uncomfortable and strong.

She was never intimidated by him in whole her life, even when she was being given sound reasons to, but that was another matter entirely: it was disturbing having him inside, stretching her, fitting her.

She took a moment to process the flicker of anger sparkling somewhere inside her mind, because Chuck Bass didn't belong there, between her thighs, and she knew it well but couldn't help needing him there.

She wasn't supposed to need him, not like that, not while the thought of Nate flit in between her thoughts and came across as oddly extraneous and inconsistent. Her life-long boyfriend felt distant, no more real than a fantasy.

It wasn't normal, how connected to her this other boy - man, she couldn't think otherwise of him now- felt instead, how disturbingly exhilarating it was knowing beyond doubt that he was seeing all of her and yet thought her beautiful.


Even more startling to Blair it was the suspicion she was reciprocating fully the appreciation. She even respected the fact he wasn't rushing her, but kneading softly her sides to sooth her nerves.

Blair shivered.

Chuck kissed her temple; his breath was hot and uneven on her cheek.

"It gets better- he assured her – Just trust me."

His tone was a little strained, not confident and smooth like per usual, and perceiving the clear difference gave rise to a flutter of tension that Blair couldn't yet fully process or name. It was jitter and triumph entwined.

Chuck went deeper and she gasped at the not entirely unpleasant sensation.

She held onto him as he begun moving, his hips rocking against hers, setting a gently teasing rhythm.

Aching and burning once and again, she writhed and instinctively responded lifting her hips to meet his.

It was strange and wonderful, the way her back was arching and her thighs spreading a little wider, allowing him to sink deeper, withdraw and return again, full and strong.

Her breasts were flat against his chest now, and she heard him hissing while her nails clawed and scratched his shoulder blades.

Confidence blossomed in her again and there was a smirk settling on her mouth, although it lasted two heartbeats and then contorted in a grimace.

No, the wave of emotion rising and slamming on her accelerating heart at each inch he pounded deeper into her couldn't be pleasure.

It was rather a primal, dark longing laced with pain, which cared very little about her physical discomfort until could yield it and twist it into something wild, an insane urge to be filled, conquered, sated.


She kissed his neck, nuzzled her cheek a bit desperately against the hollow of his throat, before a purring sound grazed the edge of her consciousness and she realized she was been the one to make it.

Purring? What …?

Blair tugged viciously at his hair to bring back his mouth to hers. She kissed him deep and fierce, drinking him in and silencing once and for all her overactive mind.

She was already falling back into that untamed, unknown girl dancing on the stage, slipping away from all what she was been until today.

She was getting lost and it was okay, because she wanted to be lost, never to be found again, and it was far too easy being grateful –friggingly grateful! - to Chuck for holding her together while everything she had dreamed about spiraled down, for wordlessly assuring her that her world could even be spinning, but she wasn't broken or cold or alone.

Laying under his weight she was whole and protected, alive and warm as she sensed all the strength, all the passion which flowed inside his body rushing inside hers at each thrust of his hips, each squeeze of his hands on her ass.

She was picking up his tempo and the uncomfortable part of their predicament was slowly fading, leaving behind only a weird elation, an obscure satisfaction of her overwhelming awareness of all what Chuck Bass was and that she had never quite known: his touch lingering everywhere, his kisses on her sweaty skin, his taste permeating her mouth, his smell surrounding her.

She couldn't believe how natural was becoming moving in synch with him - grinding against him harder, faster, pushing him closer. This was comfort of a primitive kind, terrifically intimate and slightly painful. Familiar too, a homecoming of sorts.

He looked more than simply attractive right now, almost beautiful as he braced himself and propped up over his upper body to adjust her position so he could reach deeper within her, his arms visibly rigid, his face looming on her with an expression which was half-shy, half-smug and one-quarter-evil, while her hands skimmed over the heated flesh of his back, his muscles tensing under her tentative touch.

It felt amazing, even as the surrealism of it reduced her to a dizzy tangle of knots on their way to undoing…

Frantic, they were growing frantic.

In that car, in that moment, there was no space for Blair Waldrof or Chuck Bass.

There were only an improvised stage dancer, wild and free, and that handsome young man who had toasted to her with unabashed wonder in his eyes.

If this were a movie, we would belong together.

But that last coherent, wistful thought lost its grasp on Blair's mind barely two seconds after its conception, swallowed by a sigh, a bite, and an explosion of white.