"Bass, when you agreed to help me move into my dorm, I thought you were planning on lifting things. Not just standing around," Blair complains, tapping her foot in irritation.

"Oh, never fear Waldorf. I will be doing plenty of lifting," Chuck deadpans as he wraps his arms around her glaring form, wondering exactly how much longer it is going to take her to figure out that he deliberately provokes her into anger because she looks so damn sexy when she goes into Queen B bitch mode.

Stepping forward with a leer, he backs her up until she bumps into something before capturing her lips with his own. At first she is resistant, but gradually she softens against him, thinking how different his kiss is now than it had been even a year prior. It's more intimate, less guarded, leisurely, and yet hungrier, as if he cannot possibly get enough no matter how often he kisses her, and he does do so quite often. And although she would never tell him this, she is glad that he does.

Coaxing her mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside to war with hers, Chuck meanwhile molds her curves to his angles, his growing arousal pressed between them, his fingers tracing lazy patterns into the small of her back until she shivers in anticipation. Then without preamble, he cups her ass and hoists her onto the desk. "See?" he breathes into her ear before nipping lightly at the sensitive spot beneath. "I just did some lifting."

"That is not what I meant," Blair laughs with a roll of her eyes.

"Well maybe this'll teach you to be more specific," he drawls, his teeth grazing along her collarbone in a way that makes her lashes flutter.

"Chuck, we can't do this now," she protests even as she tilts her head back to grant him greater access. "I have to organize my stuff."

"Your stuff can wait," he replies, deftly sliding the strap of her sundress off her shoulder.

"But my roommate can't," Blair insists, failing to suppress a purr when Chuck licks the expanse of flesh he had so newly exposed. "She could be here any moment."

"Then she's welcome to join us," he murmurs, not bothering to consider how Blair would react to such a remark until she's shoving him away and the pointed toe of her Louboutin pump connects with his shin. "Ow! Christ Waldorf, it was a joke."

"Notice I didn't laugh?" she snaps, fury contorting her features. "Not funny."

"Yeah, I got that," he grimaces, knowing that beneath his Armani trousers a significant bruise is forming already. "But I wasn't serious so don't get your La Perlas in a bunch."

"That'd be kind of hard since I'm not wearing any," she retorts.

"You're not wearing…?" His gaze drops to the fall of fabric barely covering her upper thighs and he swallows.

Watching him, his pupils darkened by desire, she makes a quick decision and crosses her legs with deliberate slowness, causing the silk to ride up higher, exposing another inch of flawless porcelain skin. "I'm not," she confirms.

"But you… You don't…" He can't finish the sentence, but he doesn't have to. She understands what he is trying to say.

Blair Waldorf never wears anything but La Perlas.

"No, I don't," she whispers smugly, letting her satisfaction at catching him entirely off guard leak into her tone.

"So you're…?"

For several long seconds, she looks at him coolly, reveling in the way his eyes drink her in, the intensity that smolders within those ebony pools just for her. Then, sensing an easy victory in their game of who wants whom more on any given day, and who is thus more likely to bend to the other's will at any particular moment, Blair smiles coyly and spreads her thighs just enough to reveal that she is, in fact, not wearing panties.

"Oh God," Chuck groans in response.

"Too bad I've got to unpack all these boxes on my own," she pouts, throwing the odds of success further into her favor by sweeping her thick curls to one side so that the nape of her neck, his kryptonite, is clearly visible. "Because I was planning on christening my new room with you."

At the sight, his breath hitches in his throat. "Blair, please – " he gasps, starting to reach for her, his voice husky and strained.

"Unfortunately," she announces, cutting him off and extending a foot to keep him at bay, "It looks like I'm going to be too busy to do that." Seductively, she leans back upon her elbows before resuming her seductive blackmail. "Although I suppose if you assisted me, I might have some free time for other activities later today…" Staring into his eyes, she traces a finger up her stomach and along the swell of her breasts. "Unless you're willing to admit that you can't go eight hours without being inside me and hearing me scream your name when I – "

"Oh, fuck it!" he growls suddenly, dropping to his knees between her parted thighs.

"Hey! No cheating!" Blair huffs, trying to press her knees together, but Chuck's palms prevent her from succeeding. Then he laps at her swollen folds and she forgets what she'd been complaining about.

"Oh my God," she moans, undulating upon the desk as his mouth continues its ministrations and he plunges two fingers into her, making her cry out wantonly, her head thrown back in abandon, one hand threaded through his hair, the other clutching the edge of the table to keep from falling off.

"My, my," he smirks against her wet heat. "Someone's drenched already."

"Fuck off, Bass," she pants, spine bowing as he inserts a third digit into her slickness.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he promises. "Not when you are so very close." But despite his words, his nimble fingers and swirling tongue stop just short of sending her tumbling over the brink, and he stands, blinking innocently at her. "Unless you'd rather I help with the unpacking right – "

Bolting upwards, she grabs fistfuls of his shirt. "Don't you dare!" she hisses, jerking him down for an almost violent kiss, tasting herself upon his tongue and not caring in the slightest.

"Is someone a little frustrated?" he teases, palming her breasts and rubbing his thumbs over her nipples as she tugs his zipper down with frenzied movements.

"Shut up and take me," she snarls as she succeeds in freeing his cock and positions him at her entrance.

"Whatever you say, princess," he grins. And with one quick thrust, he fills her, stretching her tight sheath, her name upon his lips, both a curse and a prayer as he waits to give her time to adjust to the invasion.

Locked together, she meets his eyes, marveling at the adoration she sees reflected there. "Fuck me Bass," she orders, and he needs no further encouragement.

With a jagged intake of breath, he withdraws and surges forward, driving deep again and again, while she clings to him, urging him on, each lightning stroke adding to the exquisite pressure rebuilding within her loins and just begging to be released.

"Harder," she whimpers.

He complies immediately by hiking her legs up and pumping into her with enough force to be jarring as their bodies slam together, and within moments it pushes her over the edge, her nails digging into his back as she spasms around his throbbing length, milking him until his rhythm falters and his muscles contract just before he follows her into the abyss. "Holy shit! Georgina!"

Despite the haze of pleasure enveloping her brain, Blair cannot have misheard that exclamation.

"You bastard!" she shrieks, slapping at him viciously even as he is still buried within her.

"Blair, I – " he stammers, grabbing her wrists to fend off her blows.

Resorting to kicking, she cuts off his excuse. "How dare you fantasize about that – "

"I seem to have arrived at a bad time," someone observes quietly.

With horror, Blair cranes her neck towards the sound of this voice, zeroing in on what Chuck had already spotted seconds before, and her response is identical to what his had been.

"Holy shit! Georgina!"