AN: Short, sweet, smutty, and a gratuitous attempt to knock off my writer's block. Takes place between S4 and S5. Cheesy bar mitzvah ONS never happened, Chuck never magically grew up, etc. There are def some inspired scenes from S4 tucked in here. Enjoy!
There's something about it that brings out the a person's animalistic side, that reaches down to the depths of an individual's soul and pulls out the primal urges that are buried beneath the weight of social responsibility.
Maybe it's the pheromones that rise and linger weightily in the sticky summer air.
Or perhaps it's the sight of skin that's slick and bare beneath the sweltering sun.
For Blair Waldorf, it's the way Dan Humphrey bites at his thirsty lips.
He's sitting at the foot of her bed, mocha eyes focused on the yellow canary ring that's sitting pretty on Blair's ring finger, teeth tugging against pink skin like it's the most delicious thing in the world.
Blair peers at him over the top of her notebook, into which she'd been scribbling a half-assed guest list. It'd be easier for her to plan her wedding without the distraction of Dan and his lips, but Blair welcomes the good-looking company because truth be told, she hasn't had the desire to touch Louis in months.
Or ever, really.
She sighs, averts her gaze with a pout, and continues on her quest to have more wedding invitees than Duchess Catherine.
"Something wrong?" Dan asks, the creamy baritone of his voice a welcome massage to Blair's ears.
The pen falls still in her hand as Blair contemplates the question for a moment. "Why would anything be wrong?" she challenges, eyes daring to meet Dan's. "I'm going to be a princess, and a fabulous one at that."
"Sorry, I don't mean to suggest anything. You just - you seem a little... distracted," Dan offers casually, the gray fabric of his t-shirt stretching taut across his sturdy chest as he shrugs. Reaching for the notebook, he pulls with a soft tug before Blair can protest."'Columbia minion number eight'," he reads aloud from her list before grinning widely. "You're inviting nameless randoms off of a college campus? Now I know you're not thinking clearly. Come on, let's take a break from all of this stuff. I know a mean gelato stand down on 8th."
Blair scrunches her nose at the notion of grabbing food from a street stand. She's about to reject the invite, about to chastise Dan for even verbalizing the scandalous idea, but then the corner of Dan's lip tugs up in a handsome, crooked smile as he stands and her heart skips a beat. "What do you say?" he asks, brown eyes looking suspiciously like a puppy dog's as he offers her a hand.
"Only because you're obviously starving as an NYU student," Blair relents, rolling her eyes with feigned annoyance. She resists the urge to take Dan's hand for fear of inducing anymore of those strange, fluttering feelings in her stomach, and reaches for her purse off of the nightstand.
Dan orders expresso gelato and Blair decides on strawberry. They walk, gait slow, back towards Blair's penthouse, their conversation light and easy.
"You can't compare Vonnegut and Wells," Dan is saying, oblivious to the fact that some stray gelato has traveled to the bow of his lip. "On the surface, maybe, but really, they're completely different. Apples and oranges, you know?" He turns to her as they walk, expecting a gesture of agreement.
Blair represses a smile at the blissfully unaware look on Dan's face, settling instead for a smirk. "Did you even taste your gelato or do you prefer wearing it on your face?" she deadpans.
Color flushes the sharp angles of Dan's cheeks as he rubs at his mouth. Blair eyes the motion with quiet interest. "Somehow I sense you don't have this problem with Louis," Dan mumbles with embarrassment, hand falling to his side to accidentally graze the cool silk of Blair's skin.
Her belly tingles hotly at the touch, lurches at the change in topic. Blair doesn't want to think about her fiance right now; in fact, the highlight of her day hasn't had anything to do with Louis.
It's had everything to do with her best friend's ex-boyfriend, though.
By the time they get back to the Palace, the tension between Dan and Blair is palpable.
"Well, uh... I guess I should get back to the loft. Homework and all. It's NYU, though, so it should be a breeze, right?" Dan jests, placing a hand at the nape of his neck, bicep flexing inadvertently.
"Of course," Blair agrees quickly. "I've got to finish making the guest list, anyway. Hopefully Dorota will be less of a distraction than you were."
Dan ducks his head, smirking. "Alright, well if you need any more help, give me a call. Maybe I can do a once-over of your guest list to make sure you don't accidentally throw Vanessa on there or something."
Parting ways with a small wave, Blair rushes upstairs to her penthouse. Once safe within the confines of her room, she collapses on the soft mattress and buries her face into the pillows with a frustrated groan.
A knock on the door not too much later stirs Blair from her prone position. "Come in!" she calls, sitting up against the wooden headboard, legs curled to one side. She fights to contain her surprise as a sheepish Dan emerges through the door-frame.
"I thought you had homework to do." A statement, not a question, as Blair forces herself to blink.
Dan tugs his shoulders up in a shrug. "It's a breeze, remember?" He takes a slow step towards her, chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Drags his teeth across his bottom lip. "Look, I - I have to talk to you about something, Blair. It's kinda important. I thought it could wait, but after today..."
"Oh?" Blair asks, feigning a nonchalant tone as she raises a brow, her body instinctively arching as Dan nears her bedside. "Well, what is it?"
A finger points to the mattress. "Mind if I - "
Blair swallows hard. "It's a free country, isn't it?"
Her breath hitches as the mattress dips with Dan's weight. He's alarmingly close now, close enough that she can smell the heady scent of his musk.
"Blair." The sound of her name rolling off of Dan's tongue causes Blair's pulse to quicken.
Throat dry, she whispers back, "Yes?"
Dan raises his hand to Blair's cheek, cups her face lightly. Beneath his touch, she melts, eyes closing to bathe in the blinding hot sensation of Dan's skin on her own. Blair feels the pressure of Dan's forehead against her curls, his lips against her ear. Warm breath electrifying the sensitive nerves of her earlobe, Dan rasps, "Blair, you don't belong with Louis. You belong with me."
As much as Blair knows she should protest Dan's words, Dan's touch, she doesn't. Instead, she turns her face just so, unfettered arousal coursing through her veins as her lips finally linger over the ones she's been dying to taste again since the very first time. "Is that right?" she murmurs, eyes flicking upward.
Dan entangles a hand in Blair's curls, pulls her lithe form onto his lap. Smiles. "Mmhmm," he hums throatily.
And wordlessly, Blair opens her mouth against Dan's, kissing him, tasting him, with greedy fervor. She claws at the thin fabric of his shirt, grabs at the defined muscles of his arms possessively, forgetting for all intents and purposes that she's promised to another man.
Fingers play at the hem of Blair's skirt as Dan positions her beneath him. Blair, she's all flushed and breathless and toying at Dan's belt with eager hands. "Do you - do you want to do this?" he whispers, eyes dark and intense and focused solely on her.
Blair bites back a blissful smile and nods, closing her eyes.
And then her alarm goes off.
Blair doesn't call Dan to check her invite list that week. She doesn't take visitors, either - not even Louis. It's a familiar strategy, but she's been here before. And not for the first time, does Blair find herself with a horrible realization on her hands: she is ass-backwards in love.
With Dan Humphrey.