AN - Sorry it's been six months between this and the last one, but I hope this one is up to scratch. I read this sonnet and thought it just screamed how Blair feels for Chuck and vice versa. As stated, ignores the pile of crap that was season three.
Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu;
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought
Save, where you are how happy you make those.
So true a fool is love that in your Will,
Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.
William Shakespeare, Sonnet 57
She tapped her foot against the marble floor, echoing off the walls and ceiling of the luxurious penthouse foyer. She sighed, taking her lip between her teeth and worrying it delicately as she stared at the minute hand on the ornate clock, internally begging it to move. At length, or so it seemed, it moved, sliding into the place that showed that she had been another full minute without him. Exasperated at her own inactivity and impatience, she stood and started for the kitchen, her Prada flats clicking on the polished floor.
She knew her friends thought her idiotic. Serena had called, demanding that she come out for dinner with her. Blair had politely declined, saying she had things to do. "Yeah, like sit around and wait for him to come back," her blonde friend had replied laughingly, the truth of the statement sticking in Blair's throat. She felt so helpless, so useless, when he wasn't near, unsure of how to fill the time she usually devoted to him; talking to him, laughing with him, planning with him, loving him.
She was enveloped in the usual melancholy that always engulfed her whenever he was out of the city on business. She burned at the thought of the colleagues and clients he had around him, not with bitterness or jealousy, but simply with awareness of the fact he was absent. She gently smiled to herself as she poured herself a glass of scotch, more for the familiarity of it than for herself to drink. She thought of the people he was now surrounded with, how they respected him, how they got to bask in the fire of his glory while she sat alone in the cold.
She took her drink to the bedroom, placing it on her bedside table as she slipped out of her Diane Von Furstenberg dress and into his dressing gown. She slipped between the sheets, absorbing the scent of him left on his pillow from when he last slept there two nights ago. She inhaled deeply and took a sip of the scotch, closing her eyes at the sensation of it burning her throat and warming her stomach, her memory slipping back to days when the loss of Chuck Bass was a blessing, not a curse.
She sat on the Met Steps, eating chopped watermelon from a cup. It was mid-December and she hated the taste, but there was no way she eating more than 30 calories for breakfast, not with the way her skirt clung to her hips that morning. Penelope and the other girls excitedly chattered around her about where they were going for the winter break, talking wildly about chalets, the Alps and chocolats chaud. Blair rolled her eyes, thinking bleakly of the frigid atmosphere at home, with her and Eleanor barely speaking while Dorota desperately tried to inspire some holiday cheer, asking Blair to help her make traditional Polish decorations or add the finishing touch to a Christmas display. She looked glumly down into the mushy red fruit, feeling the deep stab of missing her best friend and father strike her for the first time that day.
Somebody sitting far too close to her brought her out of her reverie. She whipped round to see who dared sit on her step, her long hair flicking out from under her cashmere beret.
"I don't know what's redder, Waldorf; your breakfast, or the delightful blush the cold has given to your cheeks and nose this morning." Chuck said smoothly, reaching up to stroke her aforementioned rosy skin.
"Ugh, Bass, hands off. What do you want?" she demanded, wanting to be left alone in her misery, not tormented by her boyfriend's perverted best friend.
"I can't find your beau. I was about to just go into school early-"
"- But then you remembered if you ever went to school on time that the world would spin off its axis and we would all plummet into the heart of the sun." Blair snappishly finished, poking her fork at her half finished fruit.
Chuck grinned widely; "You know me so well, Waldorf, it almost makes me hard." Her grimace only encouraged his playful mood. "The sun doesn't sound bad though, I can't wait to get out of the city, this weather bores me, nowhere near enough skin on display." He said, tapping her on her thick-stockinged knee.
"You won't be in Manhattan for the holidays?" Blair asked, brightening up at the prospect of elegant holiday events that Chuck wouldn't be at, smarming around and distracting Nate from her.
"No, Bart's got some business in the Far East, I'll be spending Christmas in the desert." Chuck told her, an edge of bitterness to his voice. Blair glanced at him, thinking he suddenly looked quite small in his chunky winter parka. She wondered whether to put a hand on his arm, or to ask if he was ok. Before she could decide, though, he had hopped to his feet looking across the street. "There's Ellis, he owes me an ounce. Try to keep warm, Waldorf, you're nearly poking through your sweater." He said with a sleazy look at her chest as he sauntered down the steps.
"I hope your father swaps you for a camel, Basshole!" she shouted, causing a flurry of pigeons to erupt off the pavement.
She murmured happily in her sleep as she turned over, the robe slipping off her shoulder as she settled down on her stomach. She was unaware of the minutes and hours slipping by, unaware of the hands he shook, of the people he thanked, unaware of the elevator doors opening, of midnight purple leather touching onto marble as he put his bag down.
He came into the bedroom and breathed a sigh of relief that she was there. He had been longing through the endless hours to see her, tapping his fingers impatiently on the plane arm rest, at a loss as to what to do until he could see her again. He had prayed she would be at home but considered that she may have been tempted out by her friends, and he sadly thought of how lucky they were to be in her presence for an evening.
The only light came from the moon which shone through the window, illuminating her bare shoulder to a pure white. He quickly and quietly undressed and slipped into the bed, stroking her cheek as he gazed at her face. A muffled noise escaped her throat and he smiled, leaning in to kiss her alabaster shoulder. She stirred at the feel of his warm lips on her chilled skin.
"Chuck?" She whispered, her eyes still closed. He answered her with a kiss to the lips.
"You make me a true fool in love, Blair." He softly said into her skin. "I couldn't be easy the entire flight. They said it was three hours but it's an eternity since I felt your skin, I swear." He watched her rosy lips stretch into an elated smile and knew in that moment that she could never do anything to lessen his love for her.
"I kept checking the clock. The hours were without end. I couldn't think of anything to do, I was a sad slave without a master." She muttered, putting her palm to his cheek as she slowly opened her eyes. He moved his hand inside the robe to find the soft, warm skin beneath it and rested it on her lower back, pulling her closer.
"And I without a mistress. It felt like wasted time." He said breathily, his lips nearly touching hers. He saw her eyes crinkle before he felt her smile.
"Making millions of dollars in national contracts? Yes, how will you get the hours back?" She joked. He brushed his thumb across her lip, feeling her tongue dart across to brush it.
"Hush. Nothing matters, not unless you declare its importance." He said, his eyes becoming lidded as he felt her leg brush against his, felt her heat on his groin.
"I missed you." She gushed, bringing her lips to his. He smoothed his hand to her thigh, kissing her deeply as he stroked her leg around his hip. He gently rolled on top of her, feeling her wet centre against his throbbing erection.
He felt her legs wrap around him as she held his face to hers in both hands. He entered her firmly but slowly, making them break their kiss in a gasp. He brought his forehead to hers as be moved rhythmically in her. He felt her rise to meet him with each thrust, with passion though without urgency. They kept their lazy, tired pace, clinging to one another and breathing onto each other's lips. Chuck moved one of his hands from her face to her lower back, holding her firmly as they ground themselves together again and again. Blair's forehead furrowed as she began to feel her orgasm building. She licked her lips as she panted softly, clutching to his neck and pulling him into a forceful kiss as they screwed themselves to ecstasy. Chuck felt her tense and then break the kiss with a cry of his name. His release followed immediately after and he relaxed onto her, burying his face into her damp neck, breathing the scent of her curls.
Blair relaxed to near-sleep as she lay beneath him, stroking his hair where it was moistened by sweat at the base of his neck. She exhaled contentedly as she felt the heat that still connected them.
"I'm so glad you're back." She whispered.