I was reliving some of my favorite Chair moments, and since I especially loved "The Lady Vanished" even though it was the beginning of the end of blissful CB for a while, I decided to write a missing scene from it. Rated M for a reason, it's a lemon. Not old enough? Don't read.


Quiet Time

It had been a hell of a morning. Blair Waldorf was sure that mornings didn't get more hellish than this. First, she woke up to discover her boyfriend and the love of her life, Chuck Bass, was nowhere to be found. He'd gone, vanished into God knows where without so much as a word or a note.

She knew that something was wrong, but Chuck being Chuck, wasn't saying anything. Still, she could tell. She could always tell when the wheels in his head were spinning.

Then came Serena's and Nate's breakfast romp. As if she didn't have enough to deal with, hearing two of her closest friends doing the deed on her boyfriend's kitchen floor wasn't exactly what she needed to hear at the moment. But hear she did. But everyone that knew Blair knew she gave as good as she got.

But all that was nothing compared to the mother of all dropped bombs, literally. Chuck's mother, who had long been thought dead and a constant source of tension between Chuck and the dearly departed Bart, was not dead, she was alive and well.

Blair's first and only thought was for Chuck. The situation was at the most, bittersweet. He no longer had to live with the guilt of thinking he killed his mother. No, he now had to contend with the fact that she abandoned him. Not exactly a step up.

And then there had been the disastrous debacle at Kellari. Serena's misguided attempt at gluing the broken pieces together had backfired. Horribly. There was no pleasant reunion between mother and son.

There was only a written check and a broken heart.

Now Chuck was holed up in his room at the Empire, worn out and it was barely noon.

Blair approached the bed slowly. Chuck wasn't good at confronting his emotions. He was good at hiding them. But now, he actually looked despondent. She wanted to do anything she could to help him. She just wanted to make him feel better.

"Do you wanna talk? Or…?" she asked him cautiously.

He didn't meet her eyes, just slowly fingered the exposed skin underneath her shoulder (she suddenly realized how much she'd missed his touch). "No talking," he said as their eyes met, filled with the unquenchable passion they held only for each other.

Their lips met in a soft kiss and Chuck didn't think he'd ever wanted her as badly as he did right then. They parted only for a moment, just long enough to wrap their arms around each other and kiss again.

Their lips clung together in a fervor as Chuck rolled them over. Blair lost her shoes in the process as her head hit the pillow. Chuck's deft fingers reached for the zipper on the back of her dress. Her breath hitched as his fingers caressed her back.

He pulled off her dress and tossed it to the floor, leaving her in only her dark grey La Perla slip and her Falke stocking and the intricate Ranjana Khan necklace. He fingered the delicate jewels before reaching to unclasp it and kiss her neck.

She couldn't help but moan as he planted a trail of kisses along her neck and jawbone. She knew he was carrying a lot of heavy emotions. And she knew he'd pour all of those emotions into ravishing her. And she wanted him to, desperately.

She reached for his shirt, making quick work of the buttons and flinging it on the floor. Her hands glided over his back and chest as they dove in for another greedy, passionate kiss.

They pulled away to catch their breath and to remove rest of their clothes. Blair pulled slip over her head, baring herself to him and he all too greedily drank in the sight.

No matter how many times he saw her naked, her beauty still astounded him. The milky white skin, the taut, flat stomach, her utterly perfect breasts, and she was his. And if he had things his way, she'd never belong to anyone else.

He pulled her in again, taking one of her breasts in his mouth, the other in his hand. "Oh, Chuck," she moaned. There had never been anyone who could make her come alive the way he could. The way he knew every inch of her so well, only made her dizzy with desire.

One of his hands slipped down between her legs where he felt the damp lace over her soaking center. He fingered her clit, causing her to arch into him and scream his name. After all, he'd said no talking. He said nothing about screaming, moaning and purring.

He ripped the lace off and inserted a finger inside her. God, she was always so tight. Her eyes rolled back at the sensation. "Chuck," she cooed. "Please." Her hands reached impatiently for his belt buckle and he knew he had to have her right then.

The pleasure from Chuck's all too talented hands, lips and tongue was building up inside Blair. He knew she was on the edge. And judging by her ragged breathing and incessant moaning, it wouldn't be too much longer. And he wanted to be inside her for that.

The day he'd had, he wanted to have her for as long as he could.

Once he freed himself from his pants and boxers, they stared into each other's eyes for a second and then he entered her slowly, remember it had been over a week since they'd last made love.

She gasped the way she always did when he entered her. She clung to his shoulders and moaned for dear life as he pounded into her again and again, each time bringing them closer to the release they both needed.

He squeezed her breasts, sucked on her earlobe, kissed her senseless, pouring all the fragmented emotions into her. And she loved every moment of it. She clawed at his back, knowing that would only turn him on more, whispered his name. Told him how close she was, told him not to stop until the pleasure took over and all she could mutter was his name over and over again.

And then she bursts of white, hot heat shot through her and she rode out wave after wave of pleasure until she fell limp in his arms.

He pulled out of her, still hard and raging and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"That was amazing," she whispered. And then she realized he still hadn't came. She loved how insatiable he was. It matched her all too well. And she couldn't leave him hot and bothered.

She pushed herself on top of him, gliding her center over his cock. "We're nowhere near done, are we, Bass?" she asked with that special glint in her eye.

"Not by a long shot, Waldorf," he said before capturing her lips in a kiss as she sank down on him.


The sun had long gone down and the moon was high over Manhattan when they finally came up for her air. Blair couldn't count the time she'd seen stars. She was pretty sure that eleven orgasms was a new record.

But when you were with Chuck Bass, you could expect records to be set almost every night. His ego almost would've irritated her, had it not been so justly deserved.

But now, they were spent, tired, exhausted but beyond satisfied. Blair knew she was going to be seriously sore in the morning and she didn't care. Somehow, she loved the dull, sticky ache between her legs. And she was glad she was on the pill, because if she wasn't, she was positive she'd be pregnant by now.

They ordered room service and both had managed to look somewhat more presentable. Blair had found her slip and Chuck had thrown on one of his many colorful robes.

After they ate, they crawled back into bed. Now that they were sated and not starving, they could talk.

Although, it wouldn't be as fun as their quiet time.


Fin. Rate and review.