Author's note: Well, can't be surprised I'm updating this. I love this fic. So there. Buuuut, this is a different sort of chapter. I've renamed chapter two to what I'd originally called it (Awareness is an Addicting Drug) and now here we have...

PART THREE : AWARENESS IS A BITTER PILL

Quiet. Steady breaths. His own. Another. Soft locks, even softer curves, and a velvety heat sheathing him to the hilt. Warm hands stroking, delicately exploring the ridges of his spine and the planes of his back.

Chuck arched back, unconsciously driving deeper into… Blair.

"Mm…" she moaned as Chuck scrambled to his hands, and then she rolled her hips instinctually. It undid him.

She was barely even awake anymore, her eyes mere slits and her movements sluggish in her satiation and languor. A small, satisfied smile played on her lips, and when she stroked down his sensitised back to where he lay nestled between her legs, she sighed imperceptibly and then shut her eyes completely.

"Blair," Chuck called gently, palming her cheek in an attempt to waken her.

She did, yawning even as she turned her face into his palm to follow his movement. "What?" she asked in a sleep-husky murmur. He felt the word through his body as her breath left her lips.

"We need to get you home," Chuck said valiantly as every fiber in his being suddenly revolted the thought. Well… he pulled out, ignoring the soft sounds of protest she made when his already half-erect penis left her. "Come on, you're falling asleep on me here."

"No… just one more minute…" she said feebly as he pulled her up to a sitting position.

One-handed, Chuck scoured the floor to retrieve her silk shift, yet as it flowed between his fingers, just like cool liquid, Chuck brought his eyes up to the girl who'd worn the modest but terribly seductive scrap of clothing.

She was suddenly completely awake, staring back at him as he held it aloft, between the acts of raising it and slipping it over her. And at that moment, precisely, Blair realised that she was utterly naked under his heated gaze, in more ways than one. She swallowed around a large knot in her throat.

God, he was a stranger – not the Chuck Bass she'd thought she knew everything and all of his incartades about during her entire life, or so it seemed. This Chuck Bass was… raw. He'd always been an intense person but at that moment he appeared to her as she'd never seen him before. Intensity and admiration warred on his face.

"Come on," he murmured suddenly, breaking away from her gaze and finally taking it upon himself to dress her. Plus, it gave him something to do, because as it stood he felt half-sick and half-exposed and none of the two felt particularly bearable. Better to busy his hands, even if it meant touching her again.

Christ.

He felt her gaze on him, insistent. If chafed, sort of. It certainly burned. But it wasn't totally unenjoyable.

Clearly, he must be a masochist.

Blair raised her arms to help him, the movement raising her small, pert breasts closer to his eye level as he slid the scrap of silk down her slender arms and then down her delicate curves. The material whispered against skin he knew was just as smooth as the silk he couldn't seem to let go of. He literally had to hold himself from looking down and, seriously, wasn't that sudden reticence rich coming from him?

"Thank you," she breathed suddenly, turning her face away shyly. "For… tonight and… everything. It was…"

Chuck could tell she struggled with her words. The best she'd ever had? So far, he answered himself. Inexplicably his chest felt too small for him. He gingerly rubbed his chest.

Unlike anything she'd ever dreamed of? Probably, and he was being very humble about it. She could have been with some shotgun incompetent for her first time. Or an incompetent, period. Someone who wouldn't have made sure to please her.

Trust me, Blair.

He'd gone there, himself. He'd trusted her, too, hadn't he? Trusted her to take him through several firsts. First time having a girl twice… more than, for that matter. First time letting go. First time with a friend – he'd never see her quite the same way. Would always see a mask when he saw Society Blair with her perfect clothes and perfect curls and sneer and frozen smile.

Trust me.

First time those two words had ever come out of his mouth. First time he'd ever taken such a huge risk–

Nate. Shit.

Blair's hesitant stroke on his cheek jolted him and he reacted instinctively, nearly slapping her hand away in the process. "I'm sorry," she stuttered, bewildered, big doe eyes and all. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "I – I thought you – tonight–" She flushed in her confusion.

Chuck had only half the heart to sneer – the other half was too busy reminding him he was alive but possibly not for very long. Unless… but no. No, he liked his private and not-necessarily-private parts intact, thank you very much. "You thought what?" he breathed in his best disaffected but definitely sexually-charged voice. I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, was a mantra in his head. If he kept this up, he would be fine. Completely. Totally.

Clenching her jaw at his words, Blair got the message loud and clear, and drew away sharply, scooting as far back against the limousine wall as the seats allowed. "Nothing. I'll walk, thank you."

Chuck didn't get it. He could have let her go and grab the door handle next to her and leave her the hell alone because, fuck this shit, he didn't care. Somehow, though, he ended up leaning over her to keep her from pulling that handle.

"What are you doing?" she screeched in his ear, but quickly subsided as she got a good look at his face.

still holding her, he pushed the intercom button, keeping it short and sweet with his chauffeur. "You're not walking," he then growled with fierce finality.

But she had to nip back, didn't she. "Afraid the creatures of the night will get me?" she fairly taunted. Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Newsflash: been there, done that, tonight even. So you can let me go, I've had my quota."

Chuck snorted. "That's rich, coming from a recently deflowered virgin. Is your appointment book so full already?" Whistling low, he considered clapping but decided against it. She'd bolt, surely, and he wanted to keep her in place for the moment. "I'm impressed, Waldorf." And then he got in her face. "But flattered you chose me first. They say it should be special, the first time, and here I was, ready to oblige and make it amazing."

Blair squirmed under his gaze, averting her eyes only when he got to the last. "Maybe I hated it," she bit out between clenched teeth, attempting to scoot away further.

"Waldorf…" he began patronisingly. She stopped at the menacing tone in his voice. Glared some more. "You came. Several times. You think I can't tell a fake orgasm from a real one?" he said on top of her when she tried to speak. Her mouth hung open like a fish out of water. A disgusted noise escaped him as he tried to drive his point across. "Please. I'm Chuck Bass."

For a moment he could tell he had her stumped. Blinking slowly, she eyed him as if he'd grown two heads on top of his and spoken Martian while dancing a chicken jig. Then a veil fell over her. Her features schooled themselves and she resumed glaring ostensibly as if she were Queen Elizabeth (the fierce virgin one) considering giving him the time of day and having a particular inclination toward a big fat NO. "And I'm Blair Waldorf. You think I care?"

This was what he wanted, he told himself.

"We're here," she grunted at length when he wouldn't fight back. "Now get the hell off me and let me go."

He did.