Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They belong to Cecily von Zeigesar and The CW.
I realize I don't say this enough, so I will make a point of doing so right now. I want to take a quick moment to thank all of you for your wonderful reviews of my last chapter. The number of responses that I received is easily the most I've ever had for a single chapter of any of my works. I especially want to thank those of you that comment on each chapter as I post. I look forward to your reactions, probably more than you look forward to my next post.
Having said that, on with the show. Enjoy!
"No deal yet," he grumbled as he made his way into his suite, pulling at his tie as if it was cutting off the circulation to his brain. He felt has thought he'd been banging his head against a brick wall all day. He'd agreed to every one of his counterparts' demands. They'd agreed to every one of his. On paper, it was a done deal except for that damn signature. He could not understand what the holdup was.
As he set his briefcase down, he went straight to the bar to pour himself a drink. He jumped in fright as a hand took the glass from him before he could take his first sip. It took him no more than a second to identify the mysterious hand as Blair's as his promise ring caught his eye instantly.
"I didn't think you would be here yet. I thought you and Eugenia would be too busy spending all my money," he replied as he spun towards her, the relief that he felt with seeing her washed over his features.
"Do you know how long it would take to spend that many billions of dollars?" she told him as she pecked at his lips lightly.
"I do not," he chuckled, "But if anyone would know, it would certainly be you."
"You were supposed to call me when your day was over," she reminded him as she set the drink down on the bar behind him as she advanced herself into his embrace. She was wearing a sexy Geisha girl ensemble that left very little to his imagination.
"I was going to call you after a drink," he told her, "I needed something to take the edge off of this frustrating day."
"I have the perfect thing," she told him as she walked him into one of the unused rooms of the suite where she had set up a surprise for him, a massage table.
Eugenia had kept her well informed on the day's lack of progress. It was after lunch that Blair and Eugenia began planning their surprise to help him relax. Eugenia had confirmed what Blair had been suspecting was happening. He was putting entirely too much pressure on himself, and trying to do too many things to close the deal. "You look like you could use a massage."
He nodded as she began removing his clothes before she encouraged him to climb up. He began chuckled softly as she laid a warm towel around his mid-section.
"That hardly seems necessary, Waldorf," he chuckled, "You've seen all this before."
"I need to concentrate," she told him in a very stern voice as she poured a small amount of fragrant massage oil into her hands. "I cannot have any distractions."
"Is that what my bare ass is to you, Waldorf," he continued laughing, "A distraction."
"Yes," she responded forcefully before she smacking the terry clad rump he was referring to, "How shut up and relax."
He was still chuckling as her hands began working out the tension at his back. He could feel the knots against her fingers as he moaned his appreciation as her delicate fingers went to work. She must have spent ten minutes on his back alone.
"Blair," He spoke when she paused to give her hands a few moments to recover.
"Yes," she prompted him to continue speaking.
"Thank you for doing this," he replied. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'll never find out," she whispered into his ear as she poured more oil into her hands and began working on his shoulders. There were entirely too many knots there as well. "When was the last time you had a massage?"
"How many months have we been together?" he inquired as he felt his brain incapable of that calculation at that moment.
"Fifteen," she responded without hesitation.
"Then sixteen months," he told her. "It used to be a part of my weekly routine, but that last month leading up to my confession, I couldn't deal with anyone else's hands on me."
"We'll have to add this back into your weekly routine then," she told him.
"I still cannot deal with anyone else's hands but yours," he replied. Anyone else's hands would feel dirty against him.
"This table isn't rented, Bass," she told him, "I'll happily serve as your own private masseuse, that is if you feel as though my performance is up to your high standards."
Chuck reached behind his back to pull the towel away from his ass. "One final test and then I'll let you know."
She oiled up her hands once more and then went to work on his derrière with eager enthusiasm. As she had expected, kneading the muscles of his ass had been the distraction she had been trying to avoid. Her hands skimming across his upper body had been mildly stimulating, but as her hands pushed and pulled against the flesh of his rump, she could feel herself becoming aroused. What was worse was that she was pretty sure Chuck could tell.
Chuck began shifting on the table as if he was uncomfortable. She frowned as the thought that she wasn't doing something right. Suddenly he turned over. Blair's eyes went wide as her eyes settled on the real reason he had been uncomfortable as his erection was revealed.
"Was this the distraction you were trying to avoid?" he inquired as he motioned towards his nether regions as Blair's hand closed around him.
She nodded as she caressed him gently. Chuck's hand settled at her hip, stroking her skin softly through the silk kimono she was wearing. Blair's eyes closed as her breathing began to labor. Chuck's lazy gaze settled on the tie at her waist. He wondered if her ministrations had as much affect on herself as they obviously did to him. He pulled gently at the sash and then watched as it came loose revealing a sliver of her body to him. He slipped his hand between the fabric as he cupped her mound gently. She let out an appreciative moan as her head rolled back in pleasure just as his finger dipped inside her. He let out a low curse of his own. She was positively dripping. He freed her hand from around his cock and sat up swiftly, pulling her to him as his lips crashed against hers.
"Did I pass?" she mumbled against him as he slide the robe off her body and then maneuvered her underneath him on the small table. He positioned himself at her entrance but her question halted his plans.
"Pass?" he prompted her. His mind was too clouded with lust to figure out what she was asking.
"Can I be your private masseuse?" she inquired.
"Only if every session ends the way this one will," he smirked as he slid into her slowly.
"Isn't that how these sessions went before me?" she teased as she rose up to meet his thrust.
"Never did they feel this incredibly satisfying," he assured her as his lips crashed against her to silence any further teasing she may have had in store for him.
"I'm sorry we cannot go back to New York and lock ourselves in the penthouse just yet," Chuck apologized as they lay in the bathtub together. After making love, Chuck realized that he was covered in massage oil that had made it incredibly difficult for Blair to hold him in their usual passionate embrace. "I honestly thought that today would be the day we'd get this deal signed. I do not know what the hold up is. Everything is agreed upon." After several moments he spoke again, "Bart would know what to do in this situation."
"You'll figure it out," she assured him as she worked the sponge across his skin, "Bart had thirty years of experience. You've had one. Look at everything you've already accomplished in this one year."
"I guess I have done a few good things right," he sighed as he caressed one of the legs that was currently wrapped around his waist, "Stock prices are still up. Profit margins are increasing."
"And I'm sure your back account is growing," she added.
"It's not really about the money to me anymore," he admitted as he grasped her left hand and thread his fingers with hers, "Money is money. I used to believe that was the only thing that was important in life."
"Money, the joys money brings you, and Nate," she recited.
"In that order," he sighed, "Priorities have shifted. I'm a wealthy man, but money never gave me nearly as much joy as you do. I was a naïve, ignorant child without the capability of knowing what love was or what true joy could be."
"Could you give all the money back and still be happy?" she inquired curiously as she lightly scratched at his chest with her free hand.
"I wouldn't go that far," he laughed, "I could give a lot of it back and still be happy. We are accustomed to a certain lifestyle which required a bit of money in the bank."
"I could give up a few things," she replied hesitantly.
"Relax, Waldorf, I'm not planning on giving away my worldly possessions and joining the Peace Corps, but it is time to start taking a stand," he told her.
"What kind of stand?" she asked curiously.
"My shareholders demand a lot of me, high dividends being the most obvious, and I'm giving that to them, but at what cost?" he inquired.
"Where are you going with this, Bass?" she prompted him.
"I don't know," he sighed, "I'm always pushing for the next big deal, trying to outdo my father. What if he went about everything all wrong? He was always tearing something down so he could put something in its place. Remember that building in Brooklyn?"
"The one Vanessa wanted your help in restoring?" she asked after a moment of thought.
"It was a landmark building. It deserved to still be there, but it got torn to shreds because it was a better investment as a parking lot or whatever else it was turned into. I don't want to be the person that just tears things apart. I want to give back," he explained.
"Like a charitable donation?" she inquired as she looked at him in confusion.
"More than that," he shook his head. "I have this big, powerful company, and all this influence. Maybe there is a way to be fiscally responsible without sacrificing this damn moral compass that you've instilled in me."
"It's called a heart, Bass," she told him as she tapped at his chest lightly, "And you've always had it. I merely turned on the switch."
"Maybe I need to walk away from this deal," he announced.
"But all the man hours your team put in. Just this morning you said you didn't want to ruin this deal for them," she reminded him.
"Something doesn't sit right," he told her. "These concessions that I've made, morally they aren't right. I'd have to put hundreds, possibly thousands of workers out of work to make this a profitable deal. Meanwhile all middle and upper level management get secured futures."
"Then walk away," she told him. "At the end of the day, you have to look yourself in the mirror. I will support you no matter what, but you have to live in your own skin."
"Speaking of skin," he told her as he kissed one of her shriveled fingers gently.
"Time to dry off," she agreed.
TBC. . .
I'm hoping you'll all continue on with your reviews.
Author's Note: I feel as though this story is coming to an end fairly soon, but I have a few ideas I would yet like to get out yet. There are still probably two or three more chapters in my head, but I wanted to give you a little notice. Fear not, I have a few new story ideas working around in my brain: one in which I'd fix how the powers that be ended this most recent season (horribly in my opinion, but still trusting in my Chair), and another story which wouldcontinue with Blair and Chuck as they navigate the world as parents to their two children. I've got one chapter of each written already. I'm just trying to decide which one will be the better story to tell first.