It had been a week since their bathroom encounter, and Chuck and Blair had barely spoken. They acknowledged each other as they passed in the hallways of school, and that was all. Chuck flirted shamelessly with other girls when he knew Blair was watching, and she did her best to pretend as if she wasn't hurt. When he shot her dark, lustful looks across the courtyard, she forced herself to look away, trying not to remember the feel of his fingers pumping in an out of her as she lay in the bathtub. It was not something that she could easily forget.
As she sat in English on Thursday, Blair felt her phone, which she always kept tucked under her skirt during class, vibrate against her thigh. Glancing up to make sure her teacher wasn't paying attention, she slid the phone out from under her skirt and flipped it open. With a jolt that wasn't entirely related to surprise, she saw that the text message she had just received was from Chuck.
"Hope you haven't been too lonely in the bathtub this week, B. -C" Her face flushed with embarrassment and anger as she read his text. He really had some nerve.
"Go fuck yourself, Chuck." She texted back angrily.
His reply came a few seconds later. "I'd rather have you do it for me, B." She slammed her phone shut. She wasn't going to respond to a text like that. He was just toying with her, and she refused to let him know he was getting to her, just like he always did. Why, why did he still have so much control over her after everything he had put her through? After all the suffering she had endured because of him, why did her body and heart still crave him? It was incredibly frustrating. She tried to compose herself and direct her attention back to class, but it was a lost cause. Eventually she gave up and channeled her frustration into planning how she could get back at him for so rudely disrupting her during class. She settled on paying him a visit after school, both to tell him off and to prove that she was doing just fine without him. So what if that was completely untrue? He didn't have to know that.
When the school day finally drew to a close, Blair directed her driver to take her directly to the Palace. She was feeling very determined, and she was ready to put this Basshole in his place. She stalked through the lobby of the Palace and waited impatiently for the elevator. As she rode all the way up to Chuck's penthouse suite, she steeled herself for the effect he had on her body every time he was near her. She prayed he wouldn't try anything like he had last week. When she finally arrived in the suite, she was surprised that wasn't seated in his usual spot, sipping scotch like he always did after school. He wasn't in his bedroom either, so she made her way to the study. Here she found him, seated in his desk chair, drink in hand.
He looked up as she entered. "What the hell are you doing here, Blair?"
She had prepared what she would say to him, but she faltered at the sight of the look on his face. His trademark smirk had been replaced by a defeated expression that she had never seen him wear before. It scared her a little. She also noticed that his tie was loosened and his hair was messy - he wasn't nearly as put together as the normal Chuck. She hated herself for it, but she was immediately filled with concern, and her resolve about telling him off lessened significantly. "I - what's wrong?" she said in a small voice.
"Nothing. Answer my question."
"It doesn't matter why I'm here. Now you answer my question. What's wrong?"
Chuck eyed her with contempt, but he didn't seem to be able to muster enough effort to argue. Again, she felt scared. "My father... rejected another one of my business proposals. I worked on it for months. I was sure he would love it. But he didn't. Because he doesn't trust me. He doesn't trust his own fucking son."
"I'm so sorry," Blair said weakly. It hurt her to see him in so much pain. She wanted to help him, but she didn't know how.
Chuck merely grunted in response, refusing to look at her.
"Is there anything I can do?" she asked tentatively.
"You don't have to give me this bullshit about caring, Blair. You can just leave," he said.
"It's not bullshit!" Blair cried, stung by his words.
"Well then get the fuck out. I don't want you here," he hissed. "You only make things worse." It was bad enough that his father didn't trust him - didn't care about him enough - to give his idea a shot. The last thing he needed right now was Blair there, seeing him like this and adding to his torture. Because even through a haze of anger, hurt, and alcohol, the sight of her standing before him, short pleated skirt showing off her long, beautiful legs, made him horny as hell.
She walked towards him slowly, dropping her bag on his desk. "Let me make it better," she said, an idea formulating in her mind. She continued to walk forward until she was standing right in front of him. She put her hands on the arms of his chair, and tenderly kissed his forehead. "I can help," she said, giving him another gentle kiss, this time on the lips. He groaned slightly as she began to plant soft kisses on his neck.
"Stop," he said quietly, but she didn't listen. She pulled his loosened tie off over his head, then unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and kissed the skin beneath it. She continued doing this as she worked her way down his shirt.
"Blair, please... You can't do this to me."
"Do what?" she said innocently. She was now kneeling on the ground between his legs, working on the final button of his shirt.
"You know I can't stop you right now. So please stop torturing me. I'm tired of getting it up for you and never getting any release. It happens much too often," he sighed.
"I don't think that will be a problem," she said softly, looking up at him. His eyes widened slightly. She tugged his shirt out of his pants and kissed the bare skin just above the waistband of his pants. He let out another groan.
"Blair..." he pleaded. He wasn't sure if he should believe this was actually happening, or if he should even let it happen. But the feeling of her feather-light touch as she unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and unzipped his fly was making it difficult to form a coherent thought. His erection was becoming painful already, and all he wanted was to finally feel what she had been denying him for so long. He lifted his hips obediently so that she could tug down his pants and boxers. She freed his throbbing dick from his boxers, and he groaned as her small, capable hand began to run up and down his shaft. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to absorb every moment of this, loving the feeling of her little hand on his dick.
"Let me make it better," she whispered again. And then, just when he thought it couldn't get any better, she felt her lips close around his tip, and she began to take him into her mouth, her tongue gliding all over his shaft.
He couldn't help himself - he gasped. This was much more than he had expected. He was in absolute ecstasy. "Blair..." he breathed. "Blair." And then he sank into complete, heavenly oblivion.