Definitions Of Bliss
Author: Sky Samuelle
Summary: Post 2.25. Summertime alongside Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass, beginning with a certain reunion by his limo.
Spoilers: For Ep. 2.24- 2.25
Ships: Chuck/Blair all the way
AN: Thanks to Emmy, my awesome and awesomely fast beta.
Blair Waldorf grew up thinking that happiness could be recreated with sheer effort and careful planning. Certainly, if she could assemble together the right ingredients, if she took her time with the subtlest details, the result could not fail her.
If she modeled herself after Audrey, let everyone see every day what a poised, graceful, elegant princess she was, she would finally feel like one. If the perfect Prince Charming loved her enough to stay with her forever, then she had tobe just as special, just as perfect.
Blair thought she had found bliss inside the dreamy blue eyes of a boy with blonde hair and a cherubim's face, and the friendship of a golden girl too free and too sparkling to not get lost if left by herself. It had to mean something that those flawless creatures needed her, looked up to her for direction.
The other boy who completed their quartet didn't need her, but acted like he didn't need anyone, really, so she didn't take offense to that. Even when they were younger, Chuck was like that: elusive and ever-changeable, snickering at her antics like he could see how flawed she was and he liked her for it.
They competed with and mocked each other and she pretended she didn't envy the fact he could be so at ease with what he was: rude and gross and mean and antisocial. She wanted to hate that Basshole from day one, really, but she never could.
Years later, although she doesn't realize this at first, she falls a bit in love with him because he sets her free from this oppressive, stiff society girl she has learnt to become. Chuck teaches her to breathe underneath the mask and she feels herself glow because she is finally beginning to see that scheming, aggressive, dark side of herselfcan be fun too, because it's exhilarating when she pushes him around and he pushes right back, instead of glaring at her for it.
For the first time, Blair Waldorf is happy because she likes herself a lot more since Chuck draws her away from the real world to pull at her clothes, baring so much more than her skin to both of them.
They break each other so many times and in so many different ways that she comes to forget it, reverts to old plans and faded dreams hoping that time can somehow run backwards.
She has to have her daydreams painted true to realize how little they mean now. There's no bliss, only the final victory over a past that will never happen again.
She wins her crown and Nate holds her close like he wants her, although it's blatantly clear that she is in love with someone else. And perhaps he wants her because she is in love with someone else, but it really doesn't detract from the fact that his gaze doesn't wander once toward Serena and finally, finally she can walk away from him with a light heart. She isn't happy on that dance floor, but she is satisfied, because she won't ever again be that Blair-Child who reached out for packaged bliss.
She looks at Nate and truly sees him, not through the rosy-tinted glasses of first love or the haze of a black defeat: he's no more perfect than she is; he's truly closer to a curious child –constantly reaching for the stars in genuine awe but so very easily distracted- than a real prince.
And she can respect him for it, but not as an equal…she can even love him, but not the passionate, totalizing way a woman loves her man. Bizarrely, it's now that she understands him so well that she knows he'll never be her definition of bliss.
Authentic bliss finds her again only once she has given up on it: it's waiting for her, leaning against a limo, wearing a benevolent smirk and bearing all her favorite gifts.
Bliss is in between the beats of her heart- a wild thing caged for way too long that suddenly slams against her ribcage and aches for freedom- as she walks closer to Chuck and asks him to explain how right she was.
"Why aren't you in Europe? "
Bliss unfurls unrepentant and shameless on her lips as she waits for the words that she knows will come soon, tasting like a sweet-flavored poison.
"I was a coward running away again. But everywhere I went you caught up with me. So I had to come back."
Bliss blossoms in every single part of her –mind, heart, soul- as those words wash over her, as does an insane urge to laugh maniacally until she is breathless.
"I love you, too"
When Chuck kisses her, she feels drunk, light all over like she is just about to break into flight. Her foot even pops up while she melts against his chest, his arms holding her closer than they have been in way too long. And she needs to hear it again, to know that this is indeed happening because she has never felt anything like this blazing sweetness that is spreading into her, never ever. And she wants, needs to soak into the awareness that she has him, finally and irrevocably.
Chuck is hers and she is his and they are not going to leave each other behind: it's mind-blowing.
"I love you. I love you. Hmm. There's three. four—I love you."
She has no notion of how long they make a spectacle of themselves, kissing and nibbling, giggling and moaning, because Time can no longer touch them.
It's not until they are once more tumbling inside his limo, his tongue exploring the curve between her throat and her jaw, that she reciprocates: "Oh, I so love you too!"
Chuck valiantly resists all her eager attempts to hurry him along, his mouth lingering on her face and neck while his hands are unbearably slow in pulling her green jacket off her shaking shoulders, unbuttoning her shirt, palming her breasts through her lacy bra.
She's fallen prey to this giddy delirium to touch and taste and want more, always more. Her voice gasps inarticulately; her fingers fist cotton and slide underneath to find his smooth skin.
"Chuck" -she whimpers, playfully punching his shoulder when she suddenly notices that she has only her skirt and panties on whereas his shirt is still half-unbuttoned- "You have too many clothes on!" All because she could barely focus on anything long enough to get his belt out of the way, and he could barely stop touching her long enough to allow her.
For a moment, with his dark, dark eyes roving over her breasts and stomach Blair wonders if he finds her any less beautiful, now that she's been touched by too many other hands, now that he might see his uncle's imprints on her. Then Chuck smirks smugly "You are so much better than I remembered" and that new golden lightness wraps again around her.
He gets out of his pants ridiculously fast, shirt and boxers, managing to look more efficient than awkward, and she's so enraptured with the sight –can you believe that it's been whole a frigging year since the last time she saw him properly naked? - her chocolate eyes glowing as she licks her lips in anticipation, and then he has to help her out of her skirt next.
She doesn't mind at all the firm grasp on her hips while she slithers out of the garment, even sighs and arches into him: Chuck is so solid and so here, she can't avoid wanting his touch all over her.
It feels so good than Blair can't believe how she managed to convince herself she could recreate this feeling with someone else. It was never the same, not with Carter, Marcus, Nate or Jack.
Sexual pleasure with other men had been a more or less pleasurable bodily function, but this… this is so much more.
Every caress exposes her and brands her, worshipful and possessive, and it's only to Chuck she might ever surrender so completely; unable and unwilling to hold back any whimper or moan.
She is content to lie down on the leather upholstery- welcoming the familiar texture against her back- and submit to his hands. They travel over every her curve and plane, gently reclaiming every inch of her skin as his lips burn a moist, patient trail from her collarbone to her sternum.
Her nails dig into his side and into his soft hair, scraping his scalp, but his answering hiss is more pleasure than pain.
Blair is positively mewling when his hot mouth reaches her breast, leisurely licking the underside before closing around her stiff nipple, suckling and nipping.
The ache between her thighs is a ravenous discomfort that desperately begs to be eased; yet she has waited so long to feel this way that she makes no attempt to seek a relieving friction. It's safer to stay moderately passive: she wants it to last as long it possibly can and if she gives in to her instincts, wrapping her legs around his waist ...
The mere mental image has her trembling, tightening her grip on his hair and drawing out a moan. Bliss is also the tormenting appetite that coils in her womb, making her feel like she might either live forever or die right now when he covers her belly with open-mouthed kisses, his increasing impatience manifested in the manner in which his teeth scuff her flesh once in a while.
"Chuck," she whimpers, clawing spasmodically at his back and forcing his head upward, her eyes rolling back as she nearly blacks out for a few seconds, tiny aftershocks rippling across her lower body. She might swear she just …well, came, all empty and needy.
"You better come up quickly" her order is nothing but a growl, and Chuck knows better than to disregard the extent of her unwillingness to be disobeyed.
He crawls up her swiftly, bringing them chest to chest, hip to hip, his hand curling under her ass to urge her to drape her slim legs around his lower back. His lips meet hers impetuously, and Blair immediately deepens the kiss, clinging to him and his taste. It feels like they can't possibly get close enough.
She groans and twists underneath him as Chuck delves all the way inside her, finding her probably slicker and hotter than she's ever been, because that's exactly how it feels to her.
"I couldn't wait anymore, either," he rasps in her ear, voice rough and thick with lust; she closes her eyes shut against the wave of arousal that threatens to submerge her. She needs more, fast and hard, but Chuck stays unmoving and so deep inside, humming at the sensation of her walls massaging his erection.
Her only relief is wriggling under his weight, uttering among little frustrated whines: "Say it again"
Her nails scratch the damp, warm skin between his shoulder and his spine, gaining a shudder of delight, a deeper thrust.
"My bossy, feisty little kitten"
His hands squeeze her bottom possessively and he starts moving, fast and hard, faster and harder.
"Say it again!"
Chuck makes a weird choking noise, brushing his nose along the sensitive hollow between her neck and shoulder, inhales deeply and breathes in her ear "It's been so long, I couldn't think straight. You are so wet, B, I needed to plunge in so badly… "
Oh, dirty talk, my old friend. Always one of her favorite Chuck-things, so much so that it takes Blair nearly a whole a minute of torturous ecstasy to recall this wasn't what she was aiming for. "No, no"-she cried out, her head swinging violently side to side while he slows his relentless pace in and out of her to rain tiny, frantic pecks over her cheek and chin – "say those three words. "
"I fucking lo-"
Chuck doesn't get to finish his latest declaration: Blair is already tumbling into bliss and screaming, drawing him deeper and deeper until all he can do is follow after her, spilling his seed into her sopping warmth.
Shaking, they breathe and sense nothing but each other, so deeply enveloped in each other's sweat and smell and every sound. Afterwards, they'll be quietly shocked that they were so careless with protection (or the lack thereof) but now…there's nothing but bliss.