A/N: So this was originally going to be an all dialogue, but then it just took this weird dramatic turn and ended up this way. I have to say, its one of my more raunchier pieces. I have an inability to write smut, so its not that bad, buts its definitely more risque than I usually do. This takes place in the first season in between the Thanksgiving episode and Cotillion. So, as you may have guessed, its amazing Chairness. Sorry if Chuck is OOC. I tried to make him as Chuck-like as possible, but if he gets weird its just a plot device for Chair awesomeness. So forgive me.
Summary: He nuzzled her neck affectionately and she wished that she could stop him. She wished he didn't have this supernatural effect on her that let him do whatever the hell he wanted with her. His harsh and piquant smelling breath hit her neck sensuously, causing her to shiver. She could feel him smirking against the side of her face.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. All is Gossip Girl. I just wish there was more if this before it all went to hell. And then it got better, and then it went to hell again. And now they're awesome again. Yay.
She wasn't supposed to be feeling this way. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was just sex. He was just comforting her after the fracture of her and Nate's relationship. Then why the hell, as the days went on, did she spend less time even caring about Nate's existence, while she let... him bring her to heights she never knew were even possible? Well that was just done. That was it. She didn't know why she could ever think he could be...
They weren't in a relationship. It didn't matter. So why was she feeling this way? The noises of the party that Serena had dragged her to were fading away as she looked into the bedroom door that was slightly ajar. Maybe at one time she had been on the other side of this door, but not anymore. She refused to be used and abused by men any longer. She couldn't let some morally bankrupt man-child break her.
So she turned from the entryway where he had been clinging to the bed post with some blonde slut on her knees in front of him and left all thoughts of Charles Bartholomew Bass behind her. Figuratively, of course.
"I need to get drunk," Blair said shortly as she took Serena by the arm. What she didn't see was the dismay in Serena's eyes as moments later one Charles Bartholomew Bass stepped fluidly out of a dark bedroom, buckling his belt, not paying attention to the blonde behind him who was desperately trying to find him.
Serena didn't say anything. It was obvious what Blair saw and she was trying not to be judgmental about the horrible decisions her best friend had been making the past week. Instead, she just shot Chuck one death glare (which he obviously did not miss) and pulled Blair to the bar.
"Order me something 100 proof."
"Blair," Serena said reprovingly, but went of to get them drinks anyway. The minute Serena stepped away foolhardily from her charge, Blair was pounced upon. Figuratively, of course. She felt a slight tugging on her hand. She turned to see that Chuck had caught up with her, subtly stopping her from following her best friend.
"Hey," he said fondly. Immediately, all thoughts of who was servicing him earlier had fled from her mind and his rich, velvety voice and alluring face replaced it. "I didn't know you were going to be here."
She could tell in his voice that he was glad that she was here. But she wouldn't fall. She wouldn't crumble. He would not break her. She slid her hand out of his hot grasp easily.
"That much is clear," she said tightly before turning around to get her drink. She didn't see Chuck staring off at her in confusion. She didn't seem angry. But she didn't seem that happy either. Well... that could be fixed quite easily.
"Was that Chuck?" Serena asked nonchalantly as Blair approached the bar.
"Don't, S," Blair snapped savagely. "Just don't."
"I know what you're thinking, so don't say it. I know it all by heart now."
Blair knocked back the entire glass. Serena's eyes widened.
"I don't want to talk about it," Blair shot back. "So just don't."
"Where are you going?" Serena asked after Blair.
"Bathroom," Blair returned shortly. She couldn't do this. She couldn't do this, she couldn't do this, she couldn't do this. Apparently neither could Chuck, because he pursued her right at her heels.
"Chuck," Serena said sternly after him. He cast her a look but didn't even pause.
And he waited.
Blair attempted vainly to fix her hair in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. She didn't know what the hell was wrong with her. What was so repugnant about her that it gave the men in her life so many urges to cheat? Not that Chuck was cheating. Because you couldn't cheat on someone that didn't belong to you. Not that she wanted to belong to him. God, this was so complicated.
It was just sex. She had to keep reminding herself that. Because more and more, she started liking things that didn't just reside in the bedroom. She liked the way he reserved a smirk just for her and how he would kiss her ear intimately. She liked how he had that strange pet name for her even though he shouldn't.
She had never been a lover before. She never had one either. She never thought the attribute was particularly attractive before, but Chuck made things attractive that she never thought possible. He made her forget her anger with him moments after he messed up with that infuriating smirk of his. And he was making her fall for him this very instant. And she couldn't take it.
What she didn't expect (even though she should have) was that he was waiting for her. She really should have known, though. He tended to crop up in places he really shouldn't.
Like dark bedrooms at parties with blonde skanks.
She had to keep reminding herself of that. One look from him and she forgot her own name. And who her virginity was originally reserved for.
He had a tendency to know exactly where she was at all times. He had a tendency to just cruise by in his limo outside churches or corner her on balconies when she wasn't supposed to be into him anyway. But he did it. Why? Because he was Chuck Bass. Figures.
Blair started as she exited the bathroom to see Chuck leaning against the wall as though he was meant to be there all his life. She hated that. She hated how he could just look completely at home anywhere.
Especially her bed.
Damnit. She was going to have to stop traitorous thoughts like that. Wordlessly, he pushed off from his position there and took her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. For some odd reason, she let him tug her into a secluded corner where they could very well be having sex and no one would notice. Especially at a drunken Upper East Side party like this where everyone was having sex everywhere.
She suddenly found herself safely in his arms, his hot mouth at her ear.
He was going to have to stop that.
He nuzzled her neck affectionately and she wished that she could stop him. She wished he didn't have this supernatural effect on her that let him do whatever the hell he wanted with her. His harsh and piquant smelling breath hit her neck sensuously, causing her to shiver. She could feel him smirking against the side of her face.
And she found the will to push him away.
"Chuck, stop," she said, pushing at his chest lightly. He was reluctant to lose contact with her. His arms were still somewhat wrapped around her as he gazed at her questioningly.
"What is it?" he asked softly.
God, she hated that voice.
She didn't like the concern in his voice or how he seemingly and effortlessly made her happy. How he wanted to make her happy. Make her scream and thrash and call out. He was annoying that way.
"Nothing," she replied coolly. "I'm just not in the mood."
His eyes narrowed. She recognized her mistake. He eyed her suspiciously.
"Tragic, if not highly unprecedented," Chuck said coldly.
"Can we do this some other time?" she asked snidely. "I've actually got some--"
"Waldorf," he interrupted her.
"Your eyes aren't matching your mouth."
She glared. He returned her look. He didn't like her this way. He liked it when she was uninhibited and groaning against his weight, her hot and slick flesh pressed against his. He didn't like how she was obviously hiding something from him. She didn't like how she was being cold to him.
"Can't you just accept that for once someone doesn't want to sleep with you?" Blair asked acidly.
"On the rare occasion that should happen," Chuck returned, "we both know it wouldn't be from you."
"What makes you so sure?" she asked defensively.
"Come on, Waldorf," he said, leaning in intimately. "We both know how much you want me."
"Guess again, Bass," she replied.
"What's with you?" he asked quietly. He wished she would just open up for him (literally and figuratively.) He was well aware that he was the only one she was ever truthful with. When she close herself off to him like this, it just made him more motivated to crack her. No one else could say that.
"Nothing," Blair snapped. "Nothing is wrong with me. I am just an emotional and closed off bitch so why don't you go find one of your whores to play with."
"Don't get me wrong," he said suavely, "that's how I like you. But what the hell are you talking about?"
Blair tried to ignore it. She couldn't stand there could be actual hurt in his voice. He wasn't vulnerable. He was Chuck Freaking Bass.
"God," Blair whispered to herself. She couldn't believe she was actually going to reveal herself like this. "I saw you with her."
"I saw you with that blonde skank."
His eyes just narrowed but she knew that she had hit her mark. It still didn't seem like he was going to admit it though. He wasn't denying it, he just looked like he didn't know what was going on.
"Do you want me to spell it out for you, Bass?" Blair asked quietly dangerous, advancing with a feline danger that he stiffened. "I saw that whore on her knees servicing you in that bedroom. Talk about class. An open bedroom at a party where anyone could just walk in."
And she couldn't believe that it was actually her that had that esteemed privilege.
Her stomach lurched. She had felt so wronged she was expecting him to grovel or something. Instead, he looked angry. She didn't know why, but she didn't want him to be angry at her. She didn't like it. Instead, she was wondering if he would forgive her for walking in on him. But that wasn't right at all.
"Don't turn this around on me," she said in disgust.
"Why do you even care?" he asked in interest.
"I don't," Blair said said forcefully. She didn't care. She didn't care, she didn't care, she didn't care.
"Is that so?" he asked predatorily, nearing her with danger. She froze again, not being able to escape his eyes.
"Yes," Blair said. "We had sex what, three times? We're not in a relationship. Have whatever whores you want blow you. It doesn't matter to me."
He always had the tendency to catch her off guard. She should have been looking for it by now. He was the only man who could ever match her. And she hated him for it. He lunged forward, suddenly taking her face between his hands and kissing her fervently. She shoved him away.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Instead of looking affronted anymore, he had that smirk etched across his features.
"You're jealous," he said smugly.
"I am not," she snapped all too quickly. She could tell by that familiar look he was giving her that he saw right through her. Damn.
"What were you doing, Blair?" Chuck asked huskily, cornering her. "Just watching from the doorway? Stalking me?"
"Because everyone wants you so much," Blair sneered.
"I know you do," he said immediately. "So much that you get jealous when I ask some slut to-- as you so delicately put it-- service me because I would never ask you to do that, you get in a jealous rage."
"What did you just say?" she asked softly.
"Come on, Blair," Chuck said, turning away from her. "I told you I liked you. What more do you want from me?"
Blair recoiled at his tone. Sometimes, he just had an inability to be real with her. He just couldn't be vulnerable. Then again, that's where they matched. It wasn't like she could either.
"I don't want anything from you," she sneered. "Its not like you cheated on me. Its not like we're dating."
"But we could be."
Blair blanched. Those words coming from Chuck Bass's mouth was a one in a life time opportunity. He never had, or ever would say those words to anyone. But maybe he would say them to her.
"God, Blair," he groaned in frustration. "I only went to those girls because I make them do things to me that I could never ask you to do. No matter how much I want it."
As vulgar as that sounded, it was probably one of the most romantic things Blair had ever heard from him. And it truly was. He wasn't taking advantage and using his influence over her for his own personal gain. And that's when she fell just a little bit harder for him.
"Good," Blair said. "Because you could probably get me to do anything."
This time, Chuck was speechless. He looked at her like he was looking at her perfection for the first time. She was amazing. And she was completely his. He didn't care what anyone said. She didn't belong to Nate. Never had, never would. Nathaniel couldn't comprehend the all encompassing beauty that was Blair Waldorf. No one saw it. No one but him.
"Never mind," Blair said, mistaking his silence for rejection.
"Stop," he said immediately, his hand shooting out, grasping her wrist, and pulling her to him. "Just stop for a second."
She felt his breath heave across her back as he held her against his chest. His breathing caused her hair to stir slightly and she closed her eyes. She liked being close to him, no matter how much it was advised against.
"I only go to them for that, Blair," he told her. "But its always you."
"Stop it," she whispered.
"What?" he asked.
"Stop making me forgive you."
She could practically feel the heat of his smirk where he pressed his lips against her neck. She missed them.
Serena's stomach lurched as she watched the latest development of her best friend digging herself deeper and deeper into that emotional grave. Chuck would break her heart. He would ruin Blair so badly that she would never be the same again.
She watched with Chuck's arms wrapped around Blair's waist, her back to his chest as he whispered in her ear, his left cheek pressed against her right. Serena couldn't believe that she was letting him do that to her. Blair never would have let anyone else pull that. But Chuck always seemed to have some supernatural influence over her that no one could break.
She couldn't believe that the queen of the Upper East Side was letting herself be sweet talked by the resident devil. And it wasn't fair. Blair's eyes had fluttered shut as Chuck murmured seductively in her ear. Serena could see the demise now but she couldn't bring herself to rip them apart.
Serena jumped as she heard Nate's good natured voice next to her.
"Nate," she said in surprise, trying in vain to obstruct his view of his best friend and his ex.
"What's going on?" he asked. "Have you seen Blair? I thought you came with her tonight."
"Yes," Serena said. "She's um..."
"Oh," Nate said, looking over Serena's statuesque shoulder. "Isn't that her right over there?"
Serena froze. She turned slowly, knowing exactly what Nate was looking at.
"And..." Nate's eyes narrowed. "Is that Chuck?"
Serena looked. Thankfully they weren't in that compromising situation anymore. Chuck's hands were innocently (for him) on her shoulders, though they were still too close for comfort.
"What..." Nate said in confusion. "What are they doing?"
"They're just," Serena struggled for an explanation. "They're just talking. They are friends you know. And you know how Chuck can be."
She released a breath when Nate seemed to accept this. Chuck was notoriously skeevy. Blair was no exception. Serena couldn't bring herself to tell Nate the truth. Not only would it kill him, but it would kill Blair as well. Serena hated admitting it to herself, but Blair was just happier when she was with Chuck. She was more confident and smiled and laughed more. It wasn't fair but that's the way it was.
She watched Nate walk off and she turned back. To her dismay, Chuck and Blair had disappeared entirely.
Blair let Chuck pull her into the darkened room. She was just glad it was a different room. Maybe it was skanky to have sex (she was assuming that's what they were doing) with a guy in some random person's bedroom at a party, but in all honesty, she had already done that.
He nuzzled her neck fondly again, his lips finding that spot that caused her to pull him closer.
"I missed you," he uttered roughly. She pulled away but found that she couldn't look him straight in the eye.
"You're enough, Blair," he said as though reading her mind.
His breathing had become ragged and she knew this wasn't the reason he had pulled her into this room. She didn't really want to talk either.
"I didn't like seeing you with her," she finally said truthfully. He tipped her chin so she looked into his eyes.
"I want you," he groaned into her. "But I wouldn't want to make you do that."
"I would," she said quietly. "If that meant you wouldn't be with them anymore."
"I wouldn't," he answered honestly.
They were done talking now.
She pulled him instantly to her by his lapel, crushing his lips to hers. She shoved his jacket off his shoulders and he grabbed her possessively. They were locked in a demanding lock for several minutes before he pulled away. She stilled his movements.
"I want you to get on your back," his gravelly velvet voice grated with desire. He took her shaking hands in his, guiding her towards the bed.
"I don't..." Blair said with uncertainty.
"Trust me," he urged.
And she did.
She always trusted him. More than anyone did. More than she should. So she did as he asked. She laid back as he hovered over her. He kissed her fiercely than pulled away again.
"Trust me," he said again, more quietly this time. And she knew that she would never trust anyone more.
He was suddenly kissing down her body. She tensed as he passed the waistband of her skirt. She could practically hear him in her head.
She was vaguely aware of him shifting her skirt. And then she was aware of nothing but the sudden and erratic waves of pleasure crashing over her. She gasped for breath as she fisted the sheets in her hand, trying to gain some sort of leverage, trying not to cry out. The loud party wouldn't register her, but she didn't know how to respond. Her heels slid off her feet and her violently painted toes scrunched the sheets of the bed.
She didn't know how long it was until an explosion of white was burning behind her eyelids. It felt like seconds. It felt like an eternity. Then he was slowly and sensually crawling back up her body and she realized that her toes had gone numb.
Her eyes fluttered open and she dimly registered Chuck's smug smirk as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak. He was just staring at her with such adoration a part of her wondered if it was actually true. He reached his hand out and pushed the slick strands of her hair that stuck to her forehead behind her ear.
"Chuck," she said, feeling slightly punch drunk.
"I can't feel my feet."
He was smirking again. And to answer that, he just kissed her.
"What?" she asked as she found him staring at her with that strange look that no one else got to see.
"Your face," he told her. "Nothing even compares to it."
She realized that her hands were shaking when he pulled them to his chest.
"I can't..." she trailed off. "I don't know how..."
"Its okay," he assured her, knowing what she was going for. "Don't worry about it."
He realized all too late that he was stroking her hair. He had gone from sleeping around with everyone on the East Coast to being completely monogamous to one perfect beauty. It didn't seem that bad. In any case, the reciprocation would be completely worth it. Even if she had no idea what she was doing. And that was fine. It was more than fine. It was perfect. He would teach her.
He loved touching her, loved kissing her, loved having her all to himself. But just because he loved all of those things, didn't mean that he loved her. Yet.