AN: This O/S was inspired by the S6 promo and I had to get it out of my system. Thanks to Bella for looking this over.
Outside, the city glitters and blinks, promising wealth, promising success, promising happiness. Fast cars, old and new, speed along the serpentine roads, their drivers wearing perfectly cut tuxedos, black and white. Polished ladies, their robes in silk and lace, sit close by, hoping that this will be the night. The night that he will pull out the ring, the night that she can save their marriage by inviting a masked escort into their room, the night they will win back all their debts to pay the loan on their yacht.
Inside, the dices roll, the cards are stacked, the roulette ball starts to spin in its wheel.
Inside. Blair would feel more comfortable knowing they were to push pieces across a chessboard, because then she would know what to do. But this game was entirely chance.
Inside. He feels her take his hand and pull him away from the card table, and he follows willingly because he wants to bet on her, on them, on chance. He wishes they would still know each other as well as they did before, but what he does know is that the sweat on her palm has nothing to do with the stifling air.
Outside. A steep breeze stirs the boats, big and small, at the docks. Girls in neon bikinis or sequined dresses sway their bodies to the soft beats drifting across the promenade, hoping that this will be the night. The night they will meet a millionaire to carry them away in a white chariot, the night they won't have to take of the clothes to get attention, the night the paparazzi will finally take a picture of them.
Inside. She can see in his eyes that he is as unsure as she is. He doesn't know what to say, what to feel, where to touch her. Blair opens her mouth to speak, to explain what should be the easiest thing in the world to explain, but isn't. In answer, he shakes his head to say Later, we'll talk. With a small nod and smile she loosens the knot on his bowtie, pulling it from his neck carefully. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, as they hovered on the edge of something they could not control. Kiss me she heard herself whisper, with her body and her lips.
Outside. The white sand on the beach was rippling softly under the feet of tourists that were enjoying the last rays of sun. As they watched the first dark clouds appear on the horizon, they hoped that tonight they might find someone to take to their room, that tonight they would win a high stakes poker game so they could pay of their medical bills, that tomorrow they would still remember this night.
Inside. He tore at her dress feverishly, needing to feel her beneath fingers ripped at his shirt violently, as did her nails over his bare chest. He hissed at the pain, punishing her by tracing the line from her neck to her collarbone with his tongue. Tasting the salt on her soft skin, he gripped her waist hard, pulling her up towards him. He did not want to go gentle on her, and the parting of her legs beneath him told him that neither did she. This, the roughness, the tearing and pushing was familiar to him, to them, but what would come after was a path they had not walked together before.
Outside. Women and men were playing games, hoping that this would be the night they would finally win.
Inside. Where she could feel him. Where she could hear the blood pulse through her head. Where deep excitement and pleasure mingled with dread and uncertainty. His strong fingers dug deeply into her skin, as she wrapped her legs around him to keep in place, to hold on to this moment where they could almost be at peace. Hard thighs drove against her faster as she arched her back, to end or prolong the ecstasy she did not know.
Outside. A young writer waits for inspiration from the inside. Outside, a golden boy waits to be a man, finally. Outside, a long-legged lonely girl takes a breath and wills herself to drown till she bleeds.
Inside. Chuck pushes harder, bending and twisting her to bring them both to the end where they could start anew.