ქიში და შამათი

Chuck carried Blair upstairs to his new room. It was true what he had said to Diane, having something of his own felt good. So he made his own space at Victrola as part of the renovations. A small suite with a place to work, a place to relax, and a very comfortable bed. He smiled tenderly as he lay Blair down.

While getting drunk wasn't a beacon of great decision making, she had been amazing tonight. She had opened up to him and stood up to his rejection of her infinitely better than he had taken her rejection. And his little scene? He had hardly been able to watch her dance with other people at the ball. If he had seen Carter and Blair together at all… Well, he didn't want to think about such a thing.

He turned on a small light for her; she was certain to wake up at least once during the night, then he pulled the blankets around her. Chuck tugged the precious headband free, wishing no harm to come to it. She looked so at peace in his bed as she slept and a sense of calm came over him. It would all be okay in the morning.

A small part of him couldn't wait that long and the devil in him snuck out for just a moment; after all, he was her dark knight. Gently holding her face, he placed a soft kiss on her mouth. Slowly brushing his lips against hers, his kiss was hopeful—faithful, knowing they were almost there.

Now he would sleep quite well. He left the room, opting to sleep on the sofa so she could be alone and free of those sorts of questions when she awoke.

Blair did wake to…expel the alcohol from her system. The room was strange and she was happy to find the bathroom in time. But she was in no state to question any of it and the task completed, she fell back into the bed and into black sleep.

Chuck waited until he heard her stirring in the morning before he entered. He carried a bottle of water for her and when he saw her, he found her standing by… His heart stopped. He'd forgotten that was in this room. He pressed the bottle into her hand, standing next to her, and gazed at it.

"You still have my ribbon." Her voice was soft, careful sounding.

"Yes."

"How do you have a piece of the headband?" This time her voice sounded strained.

Chuck however said nothing in reply. It was enough that she knew he had some part of it, not that he had gone after Serena to ensure every piece was recovered afterwards.

Her voice now very clearly strained, almost panicked, she spoke again, turning to face him. "Why do you have this?"

He glanced sideways at her. "You know why, Blair."

She touched his arm briefly, then gestured towards his keepsake box. "I don't understand what this case is, Chuck."

Keeping his eyes on the case, he was able to answer her. "It's my life. You see what is inside. Serena and Nate, a little piece of my mother, my parents. My successes, my joys, my favorite memories."

Now he looked at her.

"Why would you be so surprised to see yourself there?"

It was all too much and Blair's heart ached while her mind struggled to understand. The reeling emotions allowed an unadulterated tear effortlessly escape her lashes.

"Because you can't forgive me."

Chuck reached up, briefly cupping her face, and brushed the tear from her cheek. "I couldn't last night. But… you haven't asked me today."

He watched as her face try to hold back the cry of hysteria, becoming a small sound that caught in her throat before the words broke free, "You can't mean that!" She stepped back away from him. "Last night you were so cruel and heartless. You can't change your mind like that!"

He glanced at his case briefly before looking back at her. "Does it look like I've ever changed my mind?"

Blair wrapped her arms around herself, staring at him, feeling she did not know anything anymore. "Chuck… I can't right now…I'm just so…"

"Arthur's downstairs." He turned away from her, trying to hide his sadness. He had truly hoped, somehow, this would have gone easier. But instead, she was rushing away from him.

Chuck listened to her leave, long moments passing before he finally crumbled onto the bed in which she had slept. He sat staring at the floor, his mind numb and empty. His field of vision eventually widened and his gaze caught on her blue ribbon headband, forgotten on his nightstand. He didn't even have to think to tell his arm to move. As soon as its presence registered, his fingers were curling around the cool silk. The sensation broke something open inside him.

Standing, he walked to the glass case with all his dearest keepsakes. Taking a breath, he opened it. His sight caught first on his mother's ring, sparkling, but he wanted what was beneath it. He needed to touch her ribbon. Watching, his fingers stroked the silk and he saw the nearly ten years that has past simply in the size of his fingers. So much larger than the ones she had smacked away when he had tried to take it from her. He wished he could tie it around his heart, to give him the certainty he longed to have with her.

Navy changed to clear diamond as his hand wrapped around the fragment of the Tiffany headband. This he removed from the case, kneeling on the floor as he stared at it in his hand. His eyes danced between the diamonds in their broken wirework to the white scars in his palm from where her headband had chewed into his skin. The worst day of his life.

Why? Because you love me?

He felt his chest tighten.

Even then. Even now.

The ribbon. The bow tie. The broken girl on the bathroom floor. The boy who kissed her after the ball. Through stubbornness and stupidity there had always been hope and friendship. And love.

The future would be different and so must be these diamonds. Still clutching the cluster in his hands, Chuck stood.

Blair reached for the thin red headband Chuck had given her. Night had fallen and it was time to prepare for school. The bold red shook her the way nothing else had since she'd left Victrola.

She had spent Saturday asleep, hungover and too overwhelmed to do anything more than hide in darkness. Today she had looked for him, but Victrola was locked and he wasn't at the Palace. She was looking for answers. Her heart hurt and she wanted Chuck to make it stop. Because that wasn't some strange twisted dream, was it? He had always cared. He had only pulled away when she had deeply hurt him. And that's what she needed to know, because there was more. Chuck had forgiven her. Or, he was ready to. More than anything, she needed to know that. It could give them a future and the fear that had once gripped her no longer held power. Being without him these months showed her what mattered, what fluttered in her heart. And given the chance, she would show him.

The red of the headband gave her an idea and she turned to go downstairs. But something stopped her.

Chuck. Bundled in an elegant wool coat, a touch of snow in his hair.

He was holding her blue headband; she had feared it was lost somewhere in the haze of Friday night.

He offered it to her and carefully she took it back.

"Thank you," she said, only able to look at what she held in her hands.

"I'm glad to see you're okay." Chuck would give anything to dissolve the painful tension between them, humming in the air. Look at me, his heart beat. She fidgeted with the headbands she held and his nervousness began to ebb away because of it. She was feeling shy around him.

Taking a deep breath, Blair spoke again, "I wondered about something you said yesterday."

"Just one thing?" Relief allowed Chuck to be himself, a subtle smirk on his lips, he leaned against the doorframe. That finally made her stop fidgeting and look up at him. The Queen was happily annoyed with her Dark Knight.

"You never changed your mind? Not after Victrola? Cotillion? Paris?"

"No." He kept his eyes on her.

"I didn't ask you yesterday, but I'm asking you today. Can you… Have you forgiven me?" Her eyes never shifted from his.

"Whole and happy." Chuck lifted his hand to cup her face. "Strong even as an exiled Queen. My beautiful Queen, the one before the crown corrupted her. I knew you wouldn't let me down."

Her pull and his desire brought him close and then their lips met. Softly, uncertain, part of his mind held him back, not knowing if this was okay, trying to check his hunger for her as his lips pressed against hers, lifting to pull away, but dropping back to her again and again. No sooner than he questioned his weakness then Blair was pushing her body against his, pressing into him as she leaned her head back, offering her kiss, rising on tiptoe if he tried to leave.

It was real. This was real. They were real.

Warmth spread, contentment filling him. He pulled his mouth from hers and breathed. "Tomorrow."

"What?"

"Show me tomorrow."

Blair pulled her head back and opened her eyes.

"Why tomorrow?" Why not now? Awful thoughts flashed in her mind—Chuck with other women, most especially.

"For wh-"

"For you. One last night." He held her chin as he spoke, releasing his grip with the last line. "Then, show me, tomorrow."

Blair twisted the ruby ring around her finger as she watched him leave. She looked down at the headbands in her hands. Red and blue. Him and her. She remembered where she was going when Chuck arrived and a smile curled on her lips. She knew just how to show him.

Monday was cold and Blair wrapped her long black coat around her, walking the few blocks to school. But it didn't feel so very cold to her, as she nestled her face down into Chuck's warm red scarf. When he saw it, he would know. He would know she wanted to try.

But she didn't see him. In the courtyard, inside the school; anywhere. Desperately looking for him between classes, she did happen upon Nate and Serena making out. Her ex-best friend was clearly…happy, and it set Blair off a little. She wanted that—hadn't this process been long and tortured enough already? Where was he‽

At lunch, she still didn't see him. But, oh, some boys from Friday night certainly saw her. They came up to her table, egging her on to climb on top of it and give them another dance. Her irritation broke and she snapped at them.

"How about no?"

"Come on, Queen Beeeee," they mocked.

"I hope no one mocks you for your drunken exploits. That would have to be a full-time job." She stood and went to leave the cafeteria, but one of the boys blocked her exit, leering at her as he did so.

She was trying to decide how to get out of this without kneeing him in the crotch, when somehow, miraculously, help came. "Hey guys, how about we let Blair eat her lunch in peace?"

Nate's voice was one she had not heard in a very, very long time. The boys backed off at the captain/team leader/star athlete's command. Blair gave him a weak smile; she'd never gotten a chance to apologize to him.

"Thank you," she said softly, her eyes never leaving his.

"They've always been a bit of trouble. If I don't keep them in check, I'd lose some of my better players." Nate shrugged it off.

"Nate. Where is he?"

He wouldn't respond to her plea, only giving her a reluctant smile and shaking his head a little before walking back to the Queen. It crushed her. Why wouldn't Nate say? She picked up her bag, forgetting about lunch, and walked to the library for the rest of the period. How many hours were left in this day?

By the end of school, Blair needed to work out her frustration before heading out to find where Chuck had gone. So she pulled out her cello, thought on her feelings, and settled on what pieces to play.

Chuck had cut classes today. Not because he was hungover or high or because he couldn't face Blair. He wanted time to take care, to prepare himself for what he knew was about to happen. Perfection took time. Turning and turning again, he walked the halls that led him to Blair and her little auditorium. Slipping inside the door, he saw her sitting center stage: his Queen.

She was fury unleashed under the hot lights. No music stand, no audio to play along with. It was Bach, one not originally for cello, but a partita for violin. The effort and energy it took to elicit the sounds from the instrument was intense; Blair had her head leaned down, eyes not needed in this place, her curtain of curls hanging low, unrestrained by the band of bright red in her hair.

Her cello hummed, the strings vibrating fast, and several of the hairs on her bow had snapped in the pursuit of her expression. The air surged with the music and Chuck could feel her intense frustration as her hand flew up and down and across the black fingerboard. Her torment was his as the notes bore her vengeance.

The final note, a high harmonic, was stuck with absolute perfection, ringing through the space. But Blair didn't stop there and dropped into one of the Bach Cello Suites. The notes were forceful, accented roughly before bouncing to the next note, but then it would spin and slide a little; the whole time, Blair castigating herself as she played. She pushed herself harder as she played, reaching for perfect execution. The movement ended on a delicious low note. Blair drew out the sound, letting it hum through the air until it died. She was breathing hard from the exertion and the memory of her hot breath panting in his ears began to burn in his blood.

She lifted the bow once more and pulled him apart in seven short notes. Broken chords breaking against him; how could she? The Prélude—their prelude. All of this, all of these years, it was all a prelude. As the piece flew high and low, spinning, climbing, higher, faster, and higher still, he ached more with every note. Further still she pulled him until they were whirling in the apex of the pattern and they came to rest in a low chord; two strings, struck together, resonating in absolute, perfect, harmony.

Still unseeing, Blair leaned against her cello as she seemed to stare down, depleted. The bow dropped from her fingers, meeting the ground with a loud clatter. Her torment and struggle burned him, the fire screaming in his veins. Without disturbing her, he left, his mind scrambling though his gait, his demeanor, was a languorous misdirection of the pounding in his heart. It was time to end their prelude.

When her heartbeat finally slowed, Blair sighed and gathered her things. She carefully tucked his scarf around her neck before walking through the desolate school and down the relatively empty streets. It was an in-between time, school children were inside now, but it was still too early to see parents rushing home. She had nestled her headphones in her ears, putting the Bach Prélude on repeat. She needed to find him. Home; go home, collect herself, and decide where to start. The music surged through her as she grew closer to her destination, eagerness for him building with each step.

She did not see him.

Waiting.

In the shadows.

Near the rear service access of her building, Chuck reached out and took her arm, pulling her to him. Breathless, her face turning to his, he kissed her before a sound or word could be made. Her body pressed into his and quickly, they were stumbling towards the door.

Blair could not bear to part from him, her hands fumbling to find the access card for the back door. She could feel him, the hardness of him, wanting her, wanting to know how much she wanted him. The indicator light flashed green. The door was thrown wide and, intertwined once more, they stumbled towards the elevator.

They kissed furiously, his hands in her hair, the sound of the Prélude singing to them as they climbed higher and higher. Blair's mind swam in the sensations; the headphones in her ears forced her to hear the depths of her wanton moans as his tongue teased her, his fingers licking flames over her skin, as her hands tugged his yellow dress shirt free to find the hard body underneath.

They tumbled upwards.

The arpeggios climbed with them.

Her room, coats, scarves, bag, shirts, dropping to the floor.

With a smirk, he relished tearing the red headband from her hair. There was no need for symbols of power here: they were their power.

Headphones. Uniforms. Lingerie. It all fell away.

He pulled her to the bed, pushing her down onto her satin coverlet.

She saw him then, standing over her. The cold winter light from the windows exposed the shapes and shadows of his body. Broad shoulders, the dusting of hair across his chest, and his eyes; how had she never seen those eyes before? Full of such intense darkness and desire, they consumed her.

His voice was deep and unyielding.

"This ends here."

He casually dropped the condom he had earlier slipped from his pocket onto the bed. But he did not touch her yet, he was waiting for her confirmation, her capitulation. His gaze traveled over her body, watched her tremble, on the edge of this cliff, her skin pricked into little bumps, her deep pink nipples crowning her snowy breasts. His eyes met hers and locked there, mesmerized; the one with the other. She exhaled a shuddering breath, her voice a whisper, a soft moan from deep within.

"Chuck."

At this he finally yielded.

At this he was finally undone.

There was no more cause to keep the depths of his darkness, his passion, his want, in check any longer. He leaned in to kiss her mouth, his hands coming to part her thighs, to open her wide to him. He let a hand trail up towards her sex as he whispered, his voice deep, "Are you wet for me, Blair?"

"Yes," she gasped as his fingers dipped inside her. "Please."

"But I need you really wet." He pushed his fingers deep inside her as his mouth sucked on her neck, eliciting a delicious cry. He rocked his hand hard and slow, enjoying the way she clung to him.

"Should I make you come like this first?"

Blair shook her head. "No, no."

Still he stroked her. "But you haven't come for me since November."

"I have," she gasped as he teased her clit a moment. "Many times. In my dreams."

Enough. Enough. His mouth sought one of her nipples, sucking hard as he wrenched his hand free from where it was buried deep inside her. Her body pitched in protest beneath him, her nails digging into his back as she cried out, "Don't leave me!"

Her outcry prevented her from hearing the foil tearing. Chuck pulled back to sheath himself, grinning at the sight of her; her eyes shuttered tight, her mouth open, inhaling a trembling breath. His grin turned a little wicked because he knew: he had to anticipate this moment no longer. She tilted her head back more against the bed, a small sob catching in her throat, she tried to cry his name, "Chu-"

Her cry ended abruptly. With the quick thrust of his hips, their prelude came to an end. Skin to skin, he felt her surge back against him and he bore down on her in reply, still staked completely inside of her as his mouth came to hers.

They were one.

They were whole.

It looked more like the end than the beginning as he stilled above her. She was his. He was hers. He whispered in her ear, "Feel me."

Blair breathed, clinging to him, her muscles tight; legs, arms, back, frozen as her mind was filled with him. Because he wasn't filling just her body. She felt him, buried deep inside her, but more than that, she felt him connect with her mind. The strength of his desire, of him, and who he had always hidden in the shadows. The pleasure of it consumed her and she welcomed his dark intensity. Yes, she could feel him. The heat and fire of him, of him and her. She registered it: the need. These moments, while only a few divine seconds, seemed so very long. Finally, she urged her muscles to unfreeze with the gentle press of her hips back against his.

She made the faintest mewling noise when he pulled slowly back, shocked at the strange sensation of losing the feeling of him; the way it was as if something was being taken away from her and she so desperately wanted to follow. But the control here was not hers and all she knew was she needed more.

"Hush," Chuck softly kissed her mouth. "Look at me."

It was difficult, but Blair managed to open her eyes to him. And all over again, she was lost. He was so beautiful. The way his hair hung forward, the adoration in his face, the expanse of his broad shoulders. And his eyes; there was no way to describe all she saw in his eyes. The darkness and the hunger, yet he harnessed it all with kindness and patience, because of his desire for more. So much more.

"Look." His head tilted down and she followed his gaze. To look at them, to watch as he sank deep inside her once again.

It was even more intense this time. The fullness of him, the way the feeling of it seemed to spread through her entire body, and burn in her mind. Again, he paused there, letting her body know how he felt, letting her tighten around him, letting her hips roll. She began to pant a little, needing more. The ache deep inside, she could feel it, and it began to drive her mad. She wanted his darkness; she wanted all of him. It was a Queen's command that fell from her lips, "Chuck!"

Her cry released him. This was no longer the playboy and the virgin. It was them now. Unrestrained years of desire screamed through his body. Each thrust was hard and deep and completely unrelenting. His mouth traveled her body, hungry to claim every inch of her. He kissed, sucked, and nipped, all the time driving into her over and over again. She would feel him long after this moment had ended; he would be sure of it. There was a wicked gleefulness in his possession of her as he heard her breathing grow erratic.

Higher. She seemed to only be able to climb higher and higher towards the light as it grew more and more blinding. Pleasure screamed in her ears, through her muscles, to the tips of her toes. Then it hit; crashing upon her, his name tore from her throat, her back arching off the bed, pressing hard against him as still, he thrust into her tight body. Chuck buried his face in her neck, kissing and sucking, drinking in the feel of her orgasm.

When the intensity of her pleasure abated, her voice spent and she lay back once more, she opened her eyes to him. Those pools of dark brown had always been bright and shining, even when she was angry. The light had always been her gift, for she had always been the lightest thing in his life. Now, he saw them bright and hazy with desire, but there was more. She had changed and shifted before him…because of him. In her he saw the lightness he loved coupled with the depth of shadows.

The knowledge of her completion made his head swim. It multiplied her beauty, her splendor, cutting through his own darkness and illuminating that as much as she was now his, he was now hers. She beckoned to him, bliss and passion coursing through his body; she called to the fire burning deep within. He drove on, harder still, her cries urging him, her nails biting into his skin, her hips bucking against him. Harder. Harder. She drew his strength from him; she drew his release from the very core of him. With a guttural groan from deep within, he felt it pull, surging, her light broke free within him, only to pour back into her.

Heavy breaths.

Stillness.

Completion.

Two hearts, beating, resonating in harmony.

Breathing calmed into a normal rhythm slowly. Chuck began to pull away, unable to believe how drained he felt and how agonizing it was to separate from her. Blair's whimper did not help or the way she tried to hold onto him. Before he parted from her completely, he coaxed her by whispering in her ear, "I have to clean up, then I can hold you."

When he left, Blair curled up into a ball, shocked by how empty and cold she felt. She could hardly keep her eyes open, but she had to, as she waited for him. She needed to feel him, needed to wonder at it all as he held her, so she could know this was real and not a cruel dream. She heard his soft footsteps, her heartbeat quickening before he came into view. As he curled up to her, he drew her black coverlet over them before pulling her into his arms. His touch, his warmth, the feel of his naked skin on hers, it overwhelmed her anew. She wrapped herself around him, sure to hold him back as tightly as he was holding her.

Tilting her head back, she gazed up at him. She found a faint smile on his lips before he leaned down to kiss her. Long and sweet, Blair found herself drowning in it. Eventually, it ended, though she couldn't remember when, for exhaustion claimed her in her bliss and she fell asleep in his arms, blinking out of existence for a little while.

With a start, Blair awoke, covered in darkness. The sun had set.

She found herself in her bed naked.

And alone.

Blair shuddered. Turning, she felt the soreness of her body and knew it wasn't a dream. Yet he was gone. Disgusted, betrayed, she fled the bed he had defiled her in, desperate for the warmth of a hot shower. Avoiding the mirror, she climbed in, the blast of water a welcome sensation. She hoped to feel whole and clean, but even with lots of soap and steaming hot water, Blair only grew more distressed. The heat didn't dull her soreness and she marveled through a strange sort of dismay while she cleaned herself. Scratches, faint bruises, bite marks, all over her body.

She felt nothing but despair when she pulled herself from the shower. Where had he gone? And what had she let happen? The shower had failed to banish the coolness she felt inside. So she fought to care for herself, drying and styling her hair and trying to make her face look fresher than she felt.

Stepping back into her room, she noticed something she had overlooked before. There were clothes laid out for her. Delicious black lingerie and stockings and a dark red dress that heated her blood just to look at it. The dangerous look of the dress was such temptation, she dressed without question. Gazing into her full length mirror, she fixed her earrings into place before she wondered what she was doing.

But before her mind could seek possible answers, she caught movement in the mirror. She saw him in the doorway. He walked to her, proffering peonies of brightest white and deepest pink. He had changed out of his uniform and she noticed that his suit complemented her attire perfectly. She turned to him and accepted the offered flowers, stealing a moment to breath in their fragrance.

Chuck reached out and titled her face up so he could gaze into her eyes. They had not changed; still full of light and darkness. His mouth curled into a small smirk, his voice low, "There is no more denying us."

Blair leaned into him easily, surrendering to their pull. The kiss happened so naturally and easy, but quickly erupting in intensity and passion. Their bodies hungered to be united once more, here, now.

But with the greatest restraint, he pulled away. "No."

Looking down at her, Blair's pout was full of the stubborn anger one would expect from denying a Queen.

"Dinner first," he replied, carefully watching her face as he held out his arm to her.

The reality of the situation flooded her, giving her pause. Was she ready for this? She looked from the arm she wondered at taking, up to his face. She met his gaze. It pulled, seeing his warmth and his want in those deep brown eyes. It jolted her hesitation and that small idea of fear. And that was it. There was nothing to question; there was no denying this. He was here with her.

She was his, he was hers, and the rest of the world could be damned.

Blair took his arm.

AN: Edited by my dear Anjum, with a dash of content development from Brittany. Chapter title: ქიში და შამათი (kishi shamati), Georgian, 'Check and Mate', translated by 954 on .

To Sophia and Laken, to Mary and Shawn, to Brittany and Elise., to C and Eileen, to Amy and 'Rhett, to X and Anjum. To everyone who has made me feel strong enough and safe enough to share my stories. This was for you.