Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl. Seriously.
A/N: It says Blair/Serena in the details and it is (ultimately)! At the moment, it's Blair/Jenny with past mention of Blair/Serena. Stay with me and we'll get there!
A/N2: I must be honest that I haven't attempted to write a series in ages for a very good reason. Naturally, I am rather nervous about starting a series once more (when my last one is not yet finished) and my great beta-readers have assured me this piece is fine as a stand-alone. I am rather unhappy to leave this fic the way I did, however, and I intend to write a series. It would be therefore much appreciated if you could let me know whether you would like to see a follow-up to this fic or not (until then, I'll assume this fic is Chapter 1 to a hopefully thriving series): in other words, review please!
A/N3: Many thanks to dauthink and xstaplegunnedxx for looking this over!
During the times Blair forgets to forget, she imagines how it will feel like if Jenny were a little taller, a little blonder, a little more graceful and a little less restrained. And maybe, just maybe, when her lips part just so to press the flat of her tongue against that racing pulse on Jenny's neck, Jenny will allow Blair to brush (clamp down) the edges of her teeth against it as well and whisper Blair's name in response with a desperation that does not belong.
Only she knows how it will feel like and she knows all too well the name that will threaten to slip out. She suspects that Jenny knows more than she lets on. They have been together for far too long (three years, but she has pined for another's touch for much longer) for the younger girl to not pick up anything by now. Even though Blair is careful to keep the past separate from the present, Serena is and always will be the heavy silence that hangs in the room, the all-too-solid reminder of what has once been and what can never be.
Blair sometimes wakes in the middle of the night and never returns to sleep. Tonight is another one of those nights. Jenny's fingers twitch where they rest gently on Blair's bared stomach and the fingernails Jenny keeps blunt to accommodate her slowly advancing career trace fire on her recently cooled skin. Blair admits that Jenny is a more than decent lover. But something she sees in Blair seems to propel her to keep her ministrations gentle; even though Blair keeps on dropping hints that she will not oppose treatment of the opposite nature, that she will welcome the pain. She will not, however, plead for it. She is still a Waldorf after all. So Blair carefully removes Jenny's arm from around her waist, slips out of the bed and into the lonely night.
She feels the growing heat, the ache between her legs like it is a solid weight to be carried around. It is not supposed to be an uncomfortable feeling, an unwelcome sensation; especially when she has a more than willing lover in her bed. But it still is, strangely, a discomfort. Something about it feels off and if she were to think on it, she might just be able to put her finger on what 'it' is exactly. Only she does not want to. She cannot dwell on a memory for any longer and any more often than she already does. It is unhealthy, and it is slowly but surely destroying her relationship. If she were younger, if she were less cynical, if there were a viable exit strategy to be had, if Serena were somewhere to fall back on, maybe she would have taken the plunge, maybe she would have told Jenny the inevitable: that the two of them are not the things that forever is made of. She can feel the chuckle building in momentum at the implication her own thoughts are making: that Serena and her are the things that forever is made of. If they were, however, Serena would, should still be here though.
It hurts to think of her, it hurts so much, but every single flash of her, in whatever form the memory comes in, sends shudders through her body and Blair always ends up with her hand between her legs, her fingers mercilessly driving in and out. She pinches at her own nipples, listens to Jenny's subdued breathing just feet away, imagines Serena as she comes apart (like it is possible to die from sheer pleasure) and stifles her moans and Serena's name from leaving the safety of her lips. And every single time she comes undone, she completes it by giving in to her need to vent, to cry.
"You look beautiful," Jenny whispers, brushing her lips across the top of Blair's perfect coiffure.
Blair tries to grit out something nice in response and she hopes tightening her hold on Jenny's arm serves well enough as her intended reaction. Maybe not. But Jenny has not weathered a relationship with Blair for this long without learning that Blair does not, cannot often express what she needs to.
"You'll be great up there," Jenny continues as the limousine slowly begins to stop. Blair has been invited to be the keynote speaker of the most recent charity gala in the city and while she has been involved with several charities in the past, child welfare has always been a pet project of hers and she has accepted the invite without too much thought.
"I know," Blair replies in a soft voice as she starts composing herself for the night. "I know," she says in a stronger voice, as the door is held open. Jenny steps out first and holds her hand out toward Blair, a genuinely affectionate smile across her lips. Amidst blinding flashes and deafening cheers, Blair's hand finds Jenny's and she lets herself be ushered toward the front doors. The numbness sets in soon enough and she lets the tension wash over her like a familiar lover.
Her back goes rigid the moment her name is called out. Then it relaxes somewhat as she lets a small smile steal across her lips: a practiced shot at subtlety. She squeezes Jenny's hand and lets her lover plant a chaste kiss on her lips before she makes for the stage. She has taken over from her mother once she has finished university and has proven her worth with a ferocity even Eleanor has begrudgingly approved of. Charity galas such as this one are a regular event in her already much too packed calendar and she knows only too well how far appearances at social events of this magnitude can take her and the company. She needs to do well, to do more than just good enough.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," she begins as she takes the podium. "I am very honoured to have been invited to become the keynote speaker of this gala. I must assure you -" Whatever it is that she must assure them of dies on her lips. She has kept her eyes focused on different sections of the audience and, during her perusal, her eyes have caught sight of a familiar blonde. She can feel the hitch in her breath just as well as she can see the shaking of her hands. Serena. She stares at her again and watches the way Serena smiles crookedly back. She feels faint and only the sudden flare of fury keeps her going. If anyone were to notice the pause in Blair's speech, they did not say anything. The rest of the speech continues without another problem.
"Blair."
Serena sounds almost exactly the same, only maybe a little older, a little more assured, but she still strikes a chord with Blair; especially when she gets all apologetic and emotional. How she manages to convey so much in one word, Blair will never understand.
"Serena," Blair says a little too pleasantly and she is pleased to see the flinch Serena tries to cover up.
"How have you -" Serena never gets to finish what she sets out to say because Jenny chooses that exact moment to reclaim her place by Blair's side. Serena's eyes track the way Jenny's arm wraps around Blair's waist and the way Blair leans into Jenny's body at the contact. "Jenny," she says quietly, looking immediately dejected. Blair has always found it endearing that Serena never seems to be able to keep her emotions under control. She realises that she still finds it one of Serena's most attractive points.
"Serena," Jenny utters, surprised if the tight grip on Blair's hip were any indication.
"Are you two -" Serena tries even when it looks like confirming the status of their relationship is the last thing she wants to do.
"Together? Yes, we are," Blair replies, directing an appropriately loving look at Jenny.
"Oh. That's great. Awesome." Serena looks on the verge of tears, her lower lip is trembling and her fingers dig at her sides awkwardly. "I'll just - I'll just head - I mean, good night, I - I hope I'll see you two around." She fixes Blair with a look before disappearing into the crowd.
"I didn't know Serena was back in town," Jenny comments idly as she walks into the bathroom.
Blair's hands pause as she goes about removing her makeup. "Neither did I," she says in a clipped tone, splashing water onto her face with a little too much force.
"This sort of thing makes me regret that we no longer have Gossip Girl to keep us up to date."
"I think it's for the best." The two of them have had this conversation over and over again. While it is true that Gossip Girl has more or less stayed out of their lives, she does keep up the sporadic posts about them. Occasional coverage is, to Blair at least, much more preferable to constant coverage.
"Though we would have known about Serena's return a lot earlier."
"You know, listening to you going on and on about Serena is not really something I plan to waste tonight on." Blair smirks at Jenny's reflection as she begins to turn around.
"Oh? Do you have something better planned?" Jenny's eyes light up as she takes the hand Blair extends toward her.
"I can think of a few," Blair purrs, slipping her arms into the gap in Jenny's nightgown. Not for the first time does she think that Jenny's habit of sleeping in the nude very convenient.
"Ms. Waldorf, Serena van der Woodsen is here to see you. Shall I let her in?" her secretary's voice buzzes through the intercom.
"Jenny, Serena is here to see me. I'll see you later for dinner, okay?" Blair says quickly into her phone. She hates that she can feel the surge of excitement in her at the thought of seeing Serena again and she hates herself even more for not being able to give an appropriate response to Jenny's sincere whisper of 'I love you' before hanging up. "Send her in," Blair tells her secretary. She has only enough time to check her reflection before the door to her office is thrown open by the flurry of nervous energy known as Serena.
"Blair." Serena says her name as if she were exhaling a breath she has been holding. It feels decidedly - empowering.
Blair sits up a little more in her chair and gestures to one of the two guest chairs she has in front of her massive desk. "Serena. Would you take a seat?"
Serena struts forward and fails to pretend she has not eyed the loveseat tucked in the corner, which is obviously the most comfortable seating arrangement in the room. "Thank you," she murmurs distractedly, her hands restless where she keeps them on her thighs and her eyes moving about agitatedly.
"So you have come home," Blair states evenly, surveying her manicure in a display of disinterest.
"I -" Serena lurches forward as she begins to speak, her hands resting solidly on Blair's desk and a muscle flexes in her jaw when she realises Blair's strategy in placing the desk between them. Serena does mightily better in close proximity.
Blair is not sure whether Serena has noticed, but she has also made sure to retain her seating because it keeps the status between the two of them unequal. She needs all the edge she can get.
"Sit down, Serena," Blair says with a hint of command in her voice.
Serena's eyes catch Blair's at that and she maintains the contact as she slowly sits back down. "B, I -"
"Do not call me that!" The glint of triumph Serena fails to suppress in her reminds Blair to collect herself. "You do not get to disappear, come back and pretend you can just pick up the pieces where you left them. You did it once and I forgave you. You promised. You promised me you -" She closes her eyes (because she is sure she cannot keep this up if she has to see the way Serena's eyes plead with her) and continues, "You do not get to call me that." She opens her eyes once again and does her best to look Serena in the eye. "Leave."
Serena stands up, pushing her chair back with a resounding crash and, before Blair can understand what is going on, Serena is in front of her and her lips have attached onto Blair's.
The breath Blair expels is hot and ragged to her ears. Her hands move up Serena's arms with a surety she is surprised to still possess and her fingers find their place in Serena's thick hair, her nails scratching at Serena's scalp, Serena's answering moan is a welcome sound. She tugs once, hard and Serena goes down on her knees with a grunt, but otherwise willingly and the height advantage, as always, gives Blair a sense of power she can never grow tired of. She runs the tip of her tongue along Serena's bottom lip, tasting the subtle hint of strawberries, before she moves back to assess Serena through heavy eyelids.
Serena's lips are open and Blair imagines her soft exhalations come in tandem with the pounding of her heart. Blair pulls at Serena's hair again and Serena winces before the length of her throat is exposed for Blair's perusal. Blair runs the tip of her fingernail along Serena's jaw line, down her throat with a bit more force and smirks a little as Serena attempts half-heartedly to wrest back the control. They are under no illusion that Serena is more than capable of turning the table on Blair, but they also understand how the game is played. It is about power and it is about control and it is always in Blair's hands. They may not play the game properly, but they play it well enough.
"You may touch me," Blair whispers. She is slightly surprised to hear how breathy she has gone, but Serena has always managed to do that to her. She lets Serena's hair go, but keeps the ends of it curled around a fist - like a leash.
Serena's eyes grow a little more alert at that. Already dark from arousal, they turn almost purple as they follow intently the path of her own hands as she rests the flat of her hands on Blair's thighs, massaging experimentally. Blair allows her legs to part, resisting the moan that is about to slip out. Everything about Serena seems to be about resisting temptation. It feels a little like living constantly with sin. It tastes oh so very sweet.
Serena's fingers slip beneath the skirt Blair wears and prods almost shyly at the line of her underwear.
"Do not get me dirty," Blair reminds Serena.
"Of course not," Serena replies obediently. Blair tugs at the hair she has in her hand. "Mistress," Serena adds.
"Good girl," Blair murmurs almost indulgently. At Serena's gentle nudge, Blair stands up so that Serena can work her skirt and underwear. Once Serena has set aside the clothing, Blair sits back down and moves her hips forward so that Serena has easier access to her. When Serena simply stares, licking at her own lips as if lost in thought, Blair hisses at her, "Don't keep me waiting. I don't have all day."
Serena responds as if she were in a race and the gun has only just been shot. She flows forward with a single-minded determination Blair has only seen in rare circumstances and her hands do a wonderful job of keeping Blair's legs pushed apart. Serena fucks her like only she knows how to. She alternates between being gentle and being rough, between using her teeth and using her tongue. She fucks Blair like she is worshipping a goddess and it makes Blair want to forgive and forget. The forgiveness is almost given when Serena finally pushes a finger in, when Blair finally lets a moan leave her lips. She keeps pushing and pulling as Blair comes completely apart and when Blair finally comes back down, she forgets her role and pushes upward to wrap her arms around Blair. "I've missed you, B," she whispers, her voice thick with emotions and desire.
Blair closes her eyes and inhales the smell of Serena and the unmistakable scent of her own musk. She is so tempted to be nice, but Blair knows Serena knows her well enough to not expect the forgiveness to be doled out on her first attempt, or her second, or her third. It does not stop the disappointment from showing on her face when Blair finally pushes her away. She takes in the sight before her: Serena with her mussed hair, her lips wet with Blair's come and smeared with her lipstick and the quickly disappearing scratch on her throat. She looks so very beautiful. "Leave, Serena," Blair tells Serena with a touch of gentleness.
"Blair!"
Blair stands up, moves around the still kneeling Serena and picks up her skirt and underwear. "I have a meeting in five minutes. Take some time to clean yourself up. Good day." She leaves Serena looking like a kicked puppy.
"How was Serena?" Jenny asks conversationally as she spears her fish.
Blair catches herself before she drops her fork and knife. Images of a flushed Serena run through her mind and she has to stop herself from adding audio to the memories. "Fine," she answers as she attempts to resist a smirk, "she was fine." Is that not the truth?
"So what did you two do?" Jenny looks content, almost as if she has not a care in the world. Blair absently tries to imagine how such a look will look on her own face. Absolutely unnerving, she decides.
"We ... talked, of course. Not for long. I was running late for a meeting." Blair tries her best to meet Jenny's eyes and makes a concerted effort to continue smiling.
"You should invite her sometime for dinner," Jenny suggests, chewing thoughtfully.
"Do you really think that's a good idea?" Blair says a little too sharply, a little too quickly.
"Why not? She's your best friend, isn't she?" Jenny responds carefully, raising an eyebrow at Blair.
"Fine. I'll call her tomorrow," Blair gives in after a moment of silence, picking up her cutlery once more.
"Good. How's the salad?"
"Just perfect."
Blair feels like her head is about to explode. Serena has not dared to look her in the eye ever since dinner starts, Jenny has seemed completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere between them and Blair has consumed too much alcohol to endure this torture fest.
When Jenny's cell phone finally rings and she tells Blair in a very apologetic tone that she has to run because one of her models has decided that she is not really cut out for the fashion industry and maybe her true calling is to become a hermit in the Himalayas, Blair can only smile back in return and bite back the relief she is so very close to voicing out loud. Once Jenny has disappeared, she levels her gaze more fully at Serena, whom Jenny has charged with the gentlemanly duty of escorting Blair home, and asks in a low voice, "I take it you don't enjoy this social outing either."
"Blair, I'm so sorry," Serena whispers.
Blair wants to laugh out loud or poke her eyes out with one of the pieces of the silverware that is set out in front of her; they look lethal enough to her inebriated eyes. "Coming from you, it doesn't really mean much," she hisses back, running a manicured finger down the sweating stem of her champagne flute.
"I am, B. I am very sorry," Serena pushes on, letting her hand covers the distance between the two of them.
Blair sucks in a breath and she simply watches the way Serena's thumb practically makes love to the back of her hand. "It's so unfair," she breathes, refusing to admit defeat by backing away and so she lets her hand remain where it is. "That you can just leave and come back and leave and come back. I'm not – I cannot, I do not want to be the one who always has to stay behind. I've told you before and I'm telling you again, I'm not a stop on the way, Serena. I'm a destination." Her voice is starting to shake and the more logical part of her brain is telling her to shut up, but her mouth seems content on going on and on and on.
"Everyone leaves me. They just tell me things I want to hear, they make promises they cannot keep, but I've always believed that you're the one that will stick around, you're the one that will be there when I get back from a long day at work." She blinks and is not very surprised to feel wetness coming away. "I want to wake up in the morning and complain about you hogging the blankets, about your limbs splayed all over the place without a care, about your kissing me without even having brushed your teeth." She pulls her hand away savagely and digs her nails into the hollow of her own palms. "Jenny stays, you know. She doesn't hog the blankets, she doesn't sleep like she's the only one in the bed, she makes sure to brush her teeth before kissing me in the morning."
Blair looks up to meet Serena's eyes and tries to push away the ache in her chest as she watches the tears fall freely from Serena's eyes. "She's not you. God knows I wanted you. I still do." She searches blindly for her purse. She slaps down a thick wad of bills. She does not even feel like staying around to pay by card. "But you left." Blair stands up slowly, making sure she looks fine before she flashes a sweet smile at Serena. "And that's all that really matters. You knew that and you messed up." She rounds the table and places a lingering kiss on Serena's forehead. "Good night, S." There is an audible sob as Blair walks away on slightly unsteady legs.