'Fix me or conflict me - I'll take anything.'

"Blair."

Blair repressed a flicker of annoyance as Damien came to a stop in front of their table. She'd just been enjoying her lunch.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

"Actually-"

But Serena, perking up once she realised she recognised him from Blair's phone, was already crying, "Of course!"

Blair looked at her in outrage; the blonde grinned. Serena didn't naturally stir up trouble, but she was curious to meet the guy. And her grin broadened when Chuck gave her a matching look of disgust. (It was good to keep him on his toes, wasn't it?)

Nate, picking up on the tension, made a half hearted attempt to be friendly. "So you were at school with Blair?"

Damien had managed to secure the seat on Blair's right side. Unfortunately, Chuck was on her left. And his arm was tossed over the back of her chair like he owned it.

"For six years," he smiled. Tightly.

Six years when you weren't there, Chuck Bass.

But Chuck was muttering something in Blair's ear with an idle tilt of his head; something that made her lips tighten and her eyes gleam. She turned her own head away, and Damien was satisfied until Chuck shifted in his seat. And then Damien realised, horrified, that her small hand was on his thigh, nails pressed into the expensive material of his pants. And he looked like he was loving every second of it.

She withdrew her hand, but Chuck still wore that smug grin. He was whispering something else to her now.

"...Sport?" It took Damien a second to realise that the blond guy was still talking to him.

"No," he snapped. "I don't have time for sport." He made no attempt to keep the scorn out of his voice.

Serena stiffened, brow creasing. She and Nate exchanged a frown.

"So what are you up to later?" Damien leaned over to address his question solely to Blair; and she finally deigned to look at him. Her dark eyes were unimpressed.

"I don't know."

"I was thinking of going to the beach."

He'd done enough watching to know that the four of them inevitably ended up at the beach in the afternoon.

"That's nice," Chuck drawled. His gaze was contemptous, almost amused as he added something unheard to Blair. His fingers were tracing a lazy pattern on her bare arm, and it made Damien sick with hunger. She wasn't even looking at him any more. He was about to say something when an equally haughty voice sounded behind him.

"Who's this?" Carter was standing behing his chair; he didn't bother to wait for an answer. "Move."

Damien glowered as he realised he had no choice but to get to his feet - not that Carter appeared to notice. He dropped into the chair like Damien had never existed.

Fucking Carter Waldorf. Damien had introduced himself to the guy several times already.

"Guess who I ran into," he was telling Chuck now. "Laetitia Lloyd-Davies."

"Lucky you." Chuck sounded bored. "What did she want?"

Carter was saying something about Ibizia, but Damien's eyes had slid to Blair at the mention of another girl's name. Her face revealed nothing. And Chuck still had her in his grasp.

"What?" Serena sounded most upset. "What do you mean you said no?"

Carter rolled his eyes. "The invitation wasn't extended to you, blondie."

"Oh please," she cried. "Like you don't pick up girls along the way anyway." She folded her arms. "Why can't you take us this time?"

"We're not going to Ibizia," Carter sighed.

It was Nate's turn to protest now. "Why not?"

Damien nearly felt panic rising - but then he remembered that there was no way in hell that Blair would say yes to an Ibizia trip. It was expensive, but it wasn't classy - not like the Hamptons. Drugs and partying every night? No way would Blair agree to that much hedonism.

But Chuck might. In fact, if he left Blair here -

"It might be fun."

Damien was unable to stop the rush of glee at Chuck's comment. And while he was screwing all the short skirts in Ibizia, Damien would be the shoulder that Blair cried on.

Carter pulled a face as he glanced at his sister. "I thought this summer was meant to be with each other?" His tone was mocking, but they knew he wasn't. No way was he leaving Blair.

"So let's...be with each other," Chuck stretched out the words to leave little doubt as to his implication, "In Ibizia." His eyes rested on Blair as Carter lifted an eyebrow. He was watching her too, waiting for her reaction. He clearly had his doubts.

Damien waited for Blair to refuse.

"Unless you're too chicken, Waldorf?" That lazy curve of his voice as he gazed at the girl made Damien want to throttle him. But worse - far, far worse - was the answering gleam in Blair's eyes.

"Flying private?"

"Of course," Carter rolled his eyes.

She pursed her lips while the five of them waited; Serena and Nate hopeful, Carter questioning - and Damien full of dread.

But it was the challenge on Chuck's face that she answered. With a smirk. "Then of course I'm in."

"Jesus," Carter groaned as he lugged Blair's bag. "You do realise we're only going for a couple of days?"

Blair pulled a face at him. "If you hadn't sent James away - again - this wouldn't be a problem."

Carter scowled. "Necessity," he snapped. He couldn't have staff thinking they could go behind his back. (And to his sister, no less). He should have known it would backfire on him. His complaints stopped, abruptly, when he saw the size of Serena's bag. And Nate and Chuck nowhere in sight.

"I'll call James," he muttered darkly.

By the time James had picked them up and they'd got to the jet, their host was otherwise occupied. They were ushered onto the plane and seated by staff, who explained that Miss Lloyd-Davies would be out in a moment.

Carter and Chuck exchanged an eye roll.

"Looks like she brought Max."

Blair sank back against the deep leather seat as they took off, Serena at her side. The blonde was busy flicking through magazines and tucking into the cookies; Blair folded her hands on her lap.

She'd agreed to Ibizia because she hadn't wanted to lose face. Of course. There were added incentives - like no Evelyn Bass or Damien - but, in all honesty, she would have been more than happy staying in the Hamptons.

She didn't party. Not like that.

She could sip martinis and get giggly with Serena - and she was a natural in classy clubs and bars. But Ibizia was Chuck's scene. Carter's, Serena's - not Blair Waldorf's. She was an Upper East Sider, born and bred; and their life was hers. But she couldn't help but feel that this side of it - the wild one - she'd missed in boarding school. She was behind. And it was unacceptable for Blair Waldorf to be behind.

Seeing two weeks of hedonism as a duty was not the most thrilling of prospects.

She turned her head as she felt his eyes on her. He was gazing at her from the opposite seat, an amused twist to his mouth. Almost expectant. She flashed him a smirk in return. It was still a challenge - and it was one she was going to win.

At that moment, one of the panelled doors was thrown open and a tall red-head appeared. She had a an icy, effortless beauty and a large mouth, currently puckered in an expression of boredom.

"Why were you so late, boys?" But she didn't sound particularly bothered. Her gaze swept the cabin, flicking past Serena and Nate to land on Blair. One eyebrow raised, enquiring. This didn't look like one of Carter or Chuck's usual girls. And she wasn't sure she liked that idea. She rather enjoyed being the centre of attention, and - if she remembered correctly - she wasn't overly fond of the blonde girl as it was.

"I see you brought a friend."

Another head popped out of the door - "A friend? Is she hot?" Then, as a pair of eyes scanned her, "Oh good. She is."

The boy now standing in the cabin was equally tall, mahogany skinned with a dangerous white smile and dark, dark eyes.

"My sister, Max." Carter's eyes had narrowed. "Tish. We've got a lot to catch up on." He got to his feet, nodding brusquely for Max to follow. The message was clear - not an option. Sighing, Max did as he was told. The door swung shut behind the three of them.

Blair folded her arms.

"Well. She was rude." And beautiful. And British. Chuck seemed even more amused, so Blair turned towards Serena with a cool smile. "Although her friend didn't look bad."

High praise, coming from Blair Waldorf. It was intentional.

Chuck snorted. "Waldorf. I thought you were good at judging people."

"Max is cool," Serena laughed - and Blair made a mental note. Anyone Serena deemed 'cool' was not the kind of person Blair wished to befriend. Although she'd guessed as much anyway. She wasn't sure she liked not knowing people that Serena and Chuck - hell, even Nate - knew. She needed to catch up. Fast.

Still, she flipped her hair and reached into her bag. "Judging people doesn't stop me from appreciating beauty." She could feel Chuck's gaze as she applied her lip gloss, running it over her lips and pressing them slowly, deliberately together. She threw him a mean smile when she caught his eye. "I'm going to inspect the minibar."

She'd climbed to her feet and was fully intending on following Carter into the next room (just for a moment, and just to annoy Chuck) - but as she passed his seat, the Basstard lazily thrust out his legs to block her path.

"I've tried everything from the minbar." His eyes gleamed. "It's nothing special." Blair rolled her own eyes, going to climb past him - and he caught her waist, pulling her down.

She glowered as she found herself face to smarmy face with him. "You can let go of me now."

He sighed, content. "Never."

Blair gazed at him. "Chuck," she purred. "Jealousy's not very becoming. Unclench."

Both were mid glare when a voice sounded behind them.

"Well, well."

Max, arms folded, was inspecting Blair's legs with a wide smile. Her skirt had lifted slightly from her position in Chuck's lap. Realising, Chuck's hand slid over her bare skin to cover it. (She tried not to react to the heat from his fingers against her thigh, but he felt her back arch, just slightly).

"Let me guess," Max beamed. "She's your sister too?"

Damien glared at the photo of Chuck leading Blair down the private jet's steps and onto the tarmac. They were as good as holding hands, for fuck's sake.

Looks like our favourite pair have touched down in party central...

He hated Gossip Girl. It was official. Favourite? How could a gossip blog be rooting for them? And they weren't a pair. They weren't a couple.

They hadn't even -

It hit him then. They were going to sleep together in Ibizia. He could already see it. One drink too many, one pill that Chuck would no doubt tempt her to take; and that was it. He clenched his teeth. Fine. Chuck Bass could have his night with her.

When he broke her heart, Damien would be waiting.

They had two suites waiting for them when they arrived at the hotel, each with two bedrooms. Four bedrooms for seven people; Tish wanted them to pair off. So Serena would go with Nate, Tish with Max - and Carter wasn't happy with Blair sharing with Chuck or with him, due to the number of girls he was planning on bringing back.

"Luck you," he nudged his sister. "You get a room to yourself."

Blair bared her teeth in a smile. "Lucky me."

(Why hadn't they stayed in the Hamptons?)

Three in one suite, four in the other. Chuck wasn't too impressed that Carter's libido placed the blonds in a suite with Blair rather than himself.

"Don't worry, B," Serena was cheerful - "We'll keep the noise down." She exchanged a grin with Nate, and Blair pretended to gag.

(Although even sex noises were better than silence).

This was going to be a great holiday.

Of course, the first thing Serena wanted to do was go out - which was why Nate had been sent out of the suite and Blair was currently bemoaning her lack of clubbing clothes. Appropriate ones, that was; Serena had offered to lend her several ridiculous dresses.

This was why, Blair thought viciously as she yanked off yet another outfit, you planned for holidays. Blair was not a spur-of-the-moment girl. (In fact, part of her was missing her school schedule at the moment).

She had clothes for going out. Just not clothes for Ibizia. She'd seen plenty of girls wearing next to nothing, and the sun hadn't even set yet. Herein lay the problem with wanting to look classy and wanting to blend in - interests that had never before clashed in Blair's life.

The door opened, and Blair was about to yell at Nate to wait, already - when Tish wafted in instead. "I need to borrow your straighteners," she sighed. "I can't be bothered to unpack mine." She dropped onto the bed without waiting for an answer, and looked with interest at Blair's slip. "Is that what you're wearing? I like it."

Serena tried not to laugh at Blair's look of disbelief.

Tish was already riflling through their wardrobes. "Oh, I like this too." Blair glanced - and tried not to groan. It was the black dress. "You should wear this one, black's far more slimming." Then, as she took in Blair's figure again, "Although I suppose you don't need it."

"Thank you," Blair replied thinly.

Tish didn't seem to notice. "You and Carter are so beautiful. You've got all the right genes, haven't you? Your mother must be stunning." She paused a moment as something occurred to her. "Oh, I forgot. Sorry. But she probably was stunning."

Serena's gaze shot to Blair, anxious, but Blair just rolled her eyes. "Of course."

Tish seemed pleasantly surprised with that answer. She gave Blair a rare smile, anyway; she appreciated vanity in a person.

She'd already started running Serena's straightners through her lustrous hair when she thought of something else. "We should swap clothes. It'd be such fun." There was a moment's pause when Blair realised the girl was addressing her and not Serena - Serena who was actually the same height as the red-head. "Can I wear that?" She was pointing to the slip.

Blair arched an eyebrow. She wanted to wear her underwear?

"Actually-" Serena attempted, but Blair had already cut her off.

"Of course." Her smile was sweet.

Tish finally spared a glance at Serena. "Be an angel and go and fetch my bag?"

Blair wasn't used to anyone overlooking Serena van der Woodsen. Neither was Serena. She got, almost uncertainly, to her feet.

"Better get a move on," Tish added.

Serena's eyebrows had practically disappeared. "Was there anything else you wanted?"

If she was aware of the sarcasm, Tish didn't show it. She actually considered the question. "That's all."

Serena walked off, torn between confusion and disbelief as she shot a helpless look at Blair. Her best friend couldn't help but repress a faint grin.

"I've got a little silver thing that'll look gorgeous on you," Tish was saying as she moved onto the other side of her hair. "Nothing like your friend's clothes - they're a little garish, don't you think?"

Blair did, but she wouldn't accept anyone else saying that about Serena. Her lips pursed.

"You're sure to turn heads," Tish sighed. "You don't have a boyfriend, do you?" Then she remembered. "Oh, I guess you came with Chuck. But I doubt he'd mind."

"I'm pretty sure he would," Blair snapped. She was not having this girl assume she was another one of that motherchucker's one night stands.

"Oh?" Tish appeared interested, at that. "So what's the story with you two?"

"Come on," Max was grinning. "Tell me."

Chuck rolled his eyes. He wanted to fix his hair - not have a conversation. Especially not with Max. They were not friends. "There's nothing to tell." Chuck didn't bother to keep his tone polite.

"You haven't slept with her?"

"None of your business, Maxxie."

"So, can I sleep with her?"

Thank God Carter was in the shower. "No." Chuck's voice was little more than a snap. He would've added - and I'd like to see you try - but he knew that would just encourage the guy.

"So she's not your fuck buddy," Max sighed. "And you don't do girlfriends, so she must be a potential fuck buddy." His eyes lit up. "Unless - do you actually care about her?" He looked positively gleeful. "Please tell me this is the girl you're in love with?"

He wasn't prepared for Chuck Bass to round on him. Or for the look in his eyes. "Stop talking, Maxxie." His voice was a low growl. "Now."

And he stalked out of the room.

Two hours later, Chuck was several drinks down and surrounded by scantily clad girls - and not remotely happy. In fact, he'd never regretted pushing for Ibizia more.

Blair was looking delicious in a silver dress that definitely wasn't hers - and ignoring him, of course. He could've handled that were it not for the fact that the club was filled with guys who were far more persistent and hands-on than anywhere in the Hamptons.

Carter knew Blair could take care of herself in clubs, particularly with Nate and Serena. Plus he had his own agenda. But Chuck's feelings were not protective ones. Blair, dancing with that look in her eye, did not need protecting. She was punishing him.

And, worse still, it was working.

She smartly pushed off an over-eager admirer; and still she didn't look at Chuck. He watched as she motioned to Serena that she was getting a drink. He followed her, of course, eyes narrowed through the crowd.

"Waldorf." His voice was right against her ear, audible above the thumping music. "Having a good time?"

Her mouth curved pleasantly. "The best. Thank you."

Someone else had sidled up to her; Chuck pushed his way between them with a cold smile. "She's not interested. Get lost."

Blair's nose had wrinkled in disgust too. "Ugh. As if."

He followed her gaze with some amusement. "Care for a dance?"

"No," she smirked. "But you can pay for my drink." And she was gone.

Chuck scowled, throwing a note to the bartender. Damn Waldorf.

He was accosted by Max and Tish on the way back - and Tish was high, of course.

"Chuck!" Her usual languor had been replaced with far too much enthusiasm. "You know, Maxxie and I were just talking. We love your friend." She smiled as she leaned over to shout in his ear. "Seriously, you need to get with her!"

Chuck was so busy trying to disentangle himself from the long armed red-head that it took him a moment to notice Max had vanished. Prickling, he looked over - and sure enough, the guy was with Blair. The guy was dancing with Blair.

"You know, you really are beautiful."

Blair almost flinched as someone from behind wrapped an arm around her waist; and she turned to see Max. She pushed away instinctively, unimpressed, but noticed Chuck as she did so. Chuck and Tish.

She couldn't help the jealousy that tightened around her chest - earlier, Tish had made it clear that she'd slept with Chuck, adding that he was rather wonderful in bed. She'd suspected as much, but it was doing nothing to ease her irrational anger now.

Just because Chuck slept with that many girls didn't mean she had to see them. Or keep wondering just how wonderful in bed he really was. She'd stopped wandering hands at school, because she'd needed the control; but at boarding school there had always been plenty to distract her from sex. And thoughts of sex. Which always, inevitably, led back to thoughts of Chuck. It wasn't her fault he was so depraved. And now that she was Ibizia, where sex practically poured out of every throbbing bar and glowing beach, and he was...wearing a white shirt with scores of other sweaty bodies pressed against him.

"Don't worry," Max was laughing down at her, following her gaze. "Tish doesn't do things twice." His grin broadened. "Apart from me." He attempted to pull her into his arms, but she was stiff. "Come on. Don't you want to make him jealous?"

Blair's eyes slanted.

Actually, that didn't sound like a bad idea.

Chuck pushed Tish out of the way as he moved towards the dancing - dancing? Grinding, more like - couple. They slid out of his grasp as he approached, though, blocked by a mass of bodies. Blair tossed him a satisfied smile.

Annoyed, he tapped Serena's shoulder. Hard. She and Nate were momentarily distracted from their make-out session. "Look at Waldorf."

The blondes followed his gaze; and Serena laughed when she saw.

"Is someone a little jealous?" Nate grinned. Chuck had never disliked that stupid drunk smile more.

"What happened to girls looking out for each other?" he sneered at Serena.

"Oh, come on." The blonde waved a hand at their friend. "She's with Max. He's harmless."

Chuck gave her a look. "You know he's not."

Serena paused, at that, and she and Nate glanced over at Blair again. "All right, so he'll probably try and sleep with her. But Blair can-"

"What?" Chuck enquired. "Fend off a six foot guy off his face? By herself?"

Serena's smile faded a little. "I'll go get her."

Blair didn't need 'getting', though - as soon as she'd realised Chuck was no longer within eyesight, and Max's brilliant white teeth were just a little too close for comfort, she'd wriggled free.

The blonde grabbed her now. "Ok?"

"Can we get out of here?"

Serena's face brightened. "Sure! Somebody was telling me about a foam party-"

And before Blair could object, Serena was dragging her to find Chuck and Nate and leave. Blair repressed a scream of frustration.

She did not want to go to a foam party.

Chuck did not want to go to a foam party.

Dirty suds and Dior were never a good combination. At the very least, though, they'd managed to shake off Max and Tish. Carter was long gone too, no doubt enjoying the back rooms.

Blair wasn't speaking to him. He wasn't speaking to her either.

"It'll be fun," Nate was insisting as they were shown in the front door. Chuck could already smell the cheap beer. He and Blair exchanged grim glances before remembered they were ignoring each other.

Blair pulled a face at him and looked away.

"Come on, S."

"Archibald. I need a drink."

Despite herself, an hour later Blair was almost having fun. Fine. Not almost. And it was hard to maintain ignoring Chuck when she could see his drenched hair and the thumping music had filled her with a strange euphoria. Maybe foam parties weren't quite so bad. The shots she and Serena had downed possibly helped.

Her hair and dress were ruined, but right now, as Serena spun her around, she didn't mind all that much. She'd have a fit tomorrow - but that was then.

Right now, she couldn't help but laugh as she tipped her head back, another spurt of foam coating her hair and sliding down her back. Serena leapt on Nate with a delighted cry, rubbing more foam into his already drenched hair; he grabbed Blair in retaliation, scooping her off the floor.

She squealed, kicking back - and she found herself, quite abruptly, in front of Chuck.

His hand slid around her arm. Steadying her or catching her, she wasn't sure which. Maybe he wasn't either. His other hand held a small mound of foam. "Surrender?" His voice was low against the music, his eyes dancing. He couldn't stop watching her, her laugh and her smile and the heat of her body as he held her.

"Never," she promised, breathless; and suds clung to her eyelashes as her chest rose and fell under the soaked material of her dress.

The flashing lights over her bare arms and her smirk and all his frustration and jealousy - and the exhiliartion, now, as she smiled up at him and they both forgot who they were. He wanted her, and his mouth crushed against hers as her fingers tightened on his wet collar. His lips bruised hers and she bit back, desperate, and his hands were too tight on her waist.

It wasn't innocent, and it wasn't the sweet kiss he'd given her when she was just twelve - it was hard and hot and greedy. Her wet hands slid over his expanse of chest. His shirt was practically transparent, his skin burning underneath. He could taste the sharp tang of lemon as her soaked hair caught in his hands.

And her fingernails pressed into his back as she whimpered against his ear, barely giving them time to breathe, "I want to leave. Now."

If Nate and Serena stopped kissing for a second they might actually see them - but Blair wasn't even thinking about that. For a moment, there was quiet as he gazed at her - just his harsh breathing and the already meaningless music. She grabbed his hand in answer, her fingers small and tight in his.

His arm stayed just as tight around her waist as he hailed a cab; and they bundled inside, her wet body sliding over his. The cab ride was too long, the elevator up to her suite was too long, and her heart was pounding and her skin bursting, his muscles tight as he ached for her lips on his.

He was fairly sure she had no idea what she was doing, but her fingers ripped at the buttons of his shirt as she pushed him into her room, past the scattered dresses and straighteners, pushing the door shut as she fell backwards onto her bed.

His hand slid up the tight damp material of her dress, hot on her cold thigh - and she groaned as she remembered the heat of his fingers in the same place earlier. She wanted, needed his heat as she wriggled desperately underneath him; and then she was yanking at his collar as her legs curled around him and she pushed him down, stradling him, climbing into his lap. His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her tighter against him. And her fingers explored him greedily - touching, running over his chest with wonder because this was Chuck.

She'd been so good (so pure and so stiff and so cold in her perfect school unifrom) for so long; and now something dark and hungry and sticky was curling inside her. Something that seemed to ignite at his touch, and all she wanted to do was press herself into it; lose herself in it. In him.

(And there were flashes, painful and unknown that bubbled to the surface now - the odd dream in boarding school that wasn't a nightmare. Frustrating, delicious dreams that involved dark eyes and a touch she knew she recognised but would never admit to. Even to herself.)

She paused for a moment, fingertips brushing his skin as she gazed down into his eyes, black under hers. She knew those eyes, and still they jolted her. He was so familiar and so strange as he gazed back up at her that a shiver stole along her spine, right down to where his fingers rested on her skin.

She wanted this.

And he answered her - one hand ran over the zip of her dress, easing it down. She rubbed herself against him, nails digging into his shoulders while he helped her slide out of her clothes.

For all his experience, his own hands almost shook as they ran against the smoothness of her skin; so small and so hot in his grasp that his breathing was ragged. He was still asking her, she realised; even as his hands cupped her breasts and his fingers traced her spine. Her own fingers moved to his belt - she fumbled with it, whimper catching, and his hands covered hers to steady them. The tips of her fingers brushed his length, all curious greed and wonder as his eyes half closed, a low groan escpaing his throat.

He pulled her down, tighter, and then those fingers slid under the lace of her panties. She arched her back as he guided her down underneath him, caressing her upper thigh while her knees feel open. She could feel the thud of his heart above hers as his hand explored her and she grasped at the hair on the nape of his neck, clinging. He stroked her inner thigh, fingers probing, slow and rough to make her moan in pleasure.

The feel of her underneath him had dried his mouth completely, his head spinning with her scent, blood coursing. One finger slid inside her, and then the other; and he was all around her as he stretched and filled her, his body hard and heavy and wonderful on top of hers.

She pulled at his collar to pull him even closer, mouth somehow burying in the crook of his neck and her nose pressed against the heat of his skin.

He took her hand in his, guiding it lower so that she could touch his hardness; he groaned again and she could feel him pressing against her now. Her head tilted back as he entered her, her walls clamping down around him. His arms were rigid above her and she let out an uneven noise, because it was uncomfortable but still she craved his heat and the smell of his sweat, and there was something exhiliarating and disturbing about the rise and fall of his bare chest against hers.

When it was finished they both lay there, skin flushed and panting. Her hair was curling around her face, her pupils wide in the darkness. Her eyelashes fluttered closed for a moment; closed till her breathing returned to normal.

And then some dim part of her realised that she'd just had sex with Chuck Bass - that Chuck was on top of her and in her and around her, and it was too much. Her breath caught in her throat again, burning skin overwhelming her. His mere presence was overwhelming her; she couldn't bring herself to meet those black eyes. This was Chuck.

He kissed her then, lips rough against hers, and she felt herself relax again into his touch. Her back arched underneath him as her eyes slanted.

"You should go," she murmured. "If Nate and Serena come back..."

His hands crept down to her hips as he nipped her neck. "Then what?" His voice was low.

She tried to give him a glare, but it was a little half-hearted when her eyes were fluttering with pleasure at the feel of his lips on her collar bone. Again. She tried to push against his chest, but her hands ended up closing on his shoulders instead as she gripped his skin and his mouth carried on its path. "Then big..." He caught a spot that made her body press up, into his; "Trouble."

"Mmm."

Serena and Nate were the last thing on his mind as her arms curled around his neck, finger tips running over the nape. Her touch was still butterfly light - almost tentative - even given what they'd just done. He gazed down at her.

"Chuck," she murmured. "I'm tired."

"Waldorf," he murmured back. "Are you kicking me out?"

His eyes were still burning into her skin, she had to attempt to keep her voice light as her fingers stilled on the back of his neck. "Are we snuggling now, Bass?"

His smirk was slow. "Is that a euphemism for you want me again?" His hand traced her hip, but his voice was still slightly hoarse as he watched her.

She closed her eyes as she kissed him again, lips tingling against her already bruised ones. "As long as we set the phone alarm for an hour, and make sure you're out before they..."

He kissed her back.

She was disturbed by a shift, a sudden coldness; her last memory was drifting off against a heated chest, a hand caressing her spine and cooling sweat. Now the bed was empty.

She sat up, sharp, to see him moving about in the darkness of her room. "What are you doing?" She hadn't meant her voice to sound quite so tight.

She could see him angle his brow even without the light, eyes dark. He'd actually been forced out of bed to switch off the damn phone alarm. There was no sign of Nate or Serena. "I thought you wanted me to leave?" His head tilted as he regarded her. (He had to admit that he had no desire to do so...well, obviously not while she was still in her underwear).

She paused. "Right. Of course." How was his gaze quite so penetrating when it was this dark? She cleared her throat. "Are Nate and Serena back?"

"No."

Blair glanced down at the sheets. Well, then she should be telling him to sneak back to his own room while the going was good.

"Blair." He was suddenly aware of how alone she looked in that double bed, fingers tucked round the white sheets. His eyes had narrowed in silent question - realisation - (Serena's not back; want some company; lucky me) and he moved silently back to the bed. He looked down at her. "What if they're on their way back and I bump into them in the hallway?" he murmured. "I don't think you thought this one through."

She opened her mouth to protest but he was already kneeling on the mattress as his hands framed her body.

"I suppose you have a point." Her voice caught in her throat a little; and this time, when she lay back down he paused before he curled behind her, his hands hard against her stomach and his chin against her shoulder.

He watched, in silence, until she fell asleep.