A/N: I don't have a great grasp on their voices yet, so please forgive me if it sounds off. This was beta'd by Roz, so props to her. And this is an AU in that it's a futurefic and Blair is married.
She smooths her skirt down afterward, reapplies her lipstick like nothing happened. But he sees the bite mark on her neck, knows who put it there. He smirks. She rolls her eyes and turns to the mirror without a word, blots twice like her mother always told her to, but she can't shake the feeling of his eyes settling on her.
It makes her unsettled. "What?" she snaps. He doesn't respond, just runs his tongue lecherously along his teeth and it brings her mind to high school, to handbags and martinis in the pool. He rolls a joint as she passes a brush through her hair for the thousandth time.
"I'm sure it's fucking perfect," he snarls as he flips open the lighter. Chuck Bass never fumbled for anything, but he never expected perfection either. She evades his gaze, always has, always will, and old habits die hard and all that nostalgic shit that everyone always insists on bringing up, and maybe they're talking about her hair and maybe they're not, but it doesn't stop her from reaching for his joint, snatching it from him at the last second (her nails barely graze his skin). "I just fucked you in your bathroom while Prince Charming's down the hall and you're worried about me smoking in here?"
"You're disgusting," she hisses.
He manages a slow, lazy grin that more than insinuates everything they just did. He zips his pants and leans casually against the bathroom counter. She eyes him with an arched brow, suspicion and curiosity always simultaneously vying for her attention. "That's not what you moaned, oh," he checks his watch, "ten minutes ago?"
She rolls her eyes, stomps her heel into his shoes. He grimaces (he's gotten used to this over the years) and she passes him, tossing a casual, "Don't smoke pot in my bathroom," across her shoulder as she slams the door shut.
He lights up anyway.