A/N: I've been blocked for a bit and this was stuck in my head. The opening line, the idea for the story... and this is what happened. Depending on response, it may or may not get continued. Obviously, I still have an un-finished two-shot and another chapter story in progress, so they take precedent, but I'm kinda in love with this idea, so we'll see how quickly this gets updated, should I decide to continue.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gossip Girl's Chuck Bass or Blair Waldorf. This is just my crazy way of proving how much I freaking love them.

Lost in this Moment


He was still inside of her when the words slipped out.

It had not been long after he'd moved back in with his step-relatives when Chuck Bass was faced with his greatest regret. It was a specific kind of torment that ate away at him, one that centered around a brunette that looked positively perfect sipping orange juice from a tall glass while standing in her nightgown, alone in his family's kitchen.

She looked like she belonged there in his home, like this was where she'd been meant to be all along.

All that from orange juice? Yes. Definitely.

It was the juice's fault that he sidled up next to her, brushed his fingertips across the backs of her thighs as he passed, whispered good evening in her ear with a palm resting on her hip. If she'd responded with outright disgust then he would have backed away, would have left her to her juice; it was her intake of breath and unsteady reply of 'go away, Chuck,' that kept him there, that had him turning her to press her against the counter.

Just when he lowered his head, intending to catch her lips in his, his dear step-sister came into the room and jarred Blair from the spell she'd fallen under.

The mouth he'd been thinking of tasting for the first time in months was spitting insults his way and threatening to injure the part of him that was swelled and hardened for her. He'd reached for her and she'd pushed him away, with enough force to send his body into the counter on the other side of the kitchen, eliciting a yelp of pain from him. His hip would bruise for sure.

As she stuttered an apology, he'd taken his leave, gone to his room, and chocked this up as a loss. Stripped down to his shorts, he'd slipped into bed.

She hadn't even bothered to knock before entering and he hadn't noticed she was there until he heard her quiet apology again.

"I'm sorry about that," she spoke softly as she approached him in bed. "I just... you're trying to act like everything's normal and..." sighing, she asked, "what do you want from me, Chuck?"

She was standing there, staring down at him in the darkness, and he knew he didn't need to get up; this conversation was going to go where any other of it's kind had gone. Straight to hell. He'd screwed up so badly that she would probably walk out when he told her what he wanted.

Trying anyway, he reached for her hand, "Another chance."

She sank down to sit next to him. "You've had so many already."

It was a fact.

"But this time I'm ready to take it."

He heard her scoff in disbelief, "Oh, really?"

Sitting up, he smoothed her hair from the face that he couldn't truly see in the dark, yet knew exactly the look of guarded hope she wore. "Yes. This time it'll be different."

"Why is that, Chuck?" she asked, wearily.

Leaning his forehead in to touch hers, he answered, "Because this time, I know I love you."

Silence greeted the sound of his declaration, so he ran his knuckles down the side of her cheek to her chin, only to find that the skin was damp. He kissed her tenderly, seeking out her tongue with his only when she allowed him access.

It hadn't taken the tender moment long to turn voracious.

There had been months since they'd last kissed, a year since they'd been lovers... and all that time had separated took only seconds to re-join. Clothes had been hastily removed and thrown every which way between kisses,bare skin had been quickly caressed and pressed together, then there had been loud groans of gratification when he'd finally sunk himself deep inside the place he'd been longing to be.

Where they both needed him to be.

After a hasty coupling that was all about pleasure and had nothing to do with romance, he'd buried his face into her shoulder. All the time he'd spent fantasizing about how they'd come back to this point, all the arguments and insults, all the longing glances and tears shed, and he never wanted this moment to end.

Never wanted the way that he felt right now, for this woman, to escape from him... it'd been hell without her. He'd be damned if he'd let her slip away again.

He was still inside of her when the words slipped out.

"Marry me."

A/N: Yes? No? Are there too many of them? Or not enough? Let me know if you think I should continue. ;)