A/N: Okay, so I read a book recently where the main couple met at a sex club (If you read the book 'Princess and the Player', don't worry - this story will not have an unexpected pregnancy trope), but it reminded me of 5x22 chair when they go to the sex club and find Bart. So this story came about as a mixture of those things.

Be warned that this first chapter is VERY mature. It's probably the most mature thing I've ever written, and, honestly, I'm a little nervous about it. If you don't like smut, don't read this story. :)

Chapter 1

One Year Ago

Chuck reclined against the bar, devil's mask firmly in place over his eyes. Over a year of preparation had led to this moment, and it was everything he'd hoped it would be. Decadence was his first project after he cut ties with Bass Industries, insisting that he would establish himself outside of his father's shadow.

Beside him, Carter adjusted his classic Zorro mask and downed a shot of whiskey. "I have to hand it to you, Bass -"

Chuck immediately held up his hand in warning, "Decadence's success relies heavily on anonymity, remember?"

"Right, sorry," Carter nodded, eyeing a voluptuous redhead in sheer lingerie and an angel mask, "It's so twisted, but it's genius."

When Chuck had first mentioned the idea, Carter had his reservations. Chuck was essentially talking about creating an anonymous sex club for Manhattan's wealthiest, most elite clientele – a place where individuals who had everything to lose if their kinks became public news could be free to express themselves without fear of exposure. Carter had pushed back with the fact that there was no way that politicians, celebrities, and other billionaires would willingly risk their reputations and fortunes, but he had been wrong.

Chuck put together a plan that included an astronomical membership fee, background checks, nondisclosure agreements, regular physicals by his on-staff physician, and a private entrance heavily guarded from paparazzi and prying eyes in exchange for complete confidentiality and security. Even his own identity was unknown to members; all they knew was that a New York businessman had created the club. Masks were a requirement for entry alongside signed contracts that carried heavy legal penalties if breached. Some patrons opted to don elaborately themed costumes to match their masks, while others wore suits and cocktail attire. A few, like the woman who had caught Carter's attention, skipped the theatrics and wore little more than lingerie.

The building's exterior was intentionally unremarkable for discretionary purposes. It looked like a rundown warehouse to the outside observer with no signage to indicate that a depraved club raged within. Inside, though, the club hosted multiple floors and amenities for its patrons. The main floor, where Chuck and Carter currently stood, mostly resembled an upscale nightclub with several bars, tables, and a dance floor. The second and third floors, however, were the defining features of the club. Dozens of themed rooms, expertly decorated to cater to even the most niche kinks, waited for patron's to fulfill their wildest fantasies with the expectation of safety and privacy in mind.

"So, who've you got your eye on tonight because I'm about to let that angel over there show me heaven," Carter arched his eyebrow behind his mask.

Chuck let out a low chuckle. "I'm hands off tonight. I have to make sure opening night runs smoothly, so I can't afford any distractions."

Carter raised his hand in salute and headed toward the redhead who summoned him with a curl of her index finger. Chuck turned toward the club and watched in morbid fascination. While the club encouraged sexual partners to make their way to the room on the upper floors, there were very few rules to guide the actual behavior in the club. Nearly anything safe and consensual was permissible. Patrons signed contracts ensuring that they would not disclose the club's location or the identities of any attendees, and they were made aware that they must ask for consent before touching another person. Explicit consent was non-negotiable, and pushing boundaries would result in expulsion and potential charges. Additionally, no recording devices or cell phones were allowed inside. Members were provided private quarters equipped with lockers for their personal belongings, and everyone was required to wear name tags with self-chosen nicknames. Most people elected to use a name that matched the theme of their mask or costume, but it wasn't a requirement.

Chuck shoved a drunken man off of him, checking the nametag Space Cowboy. He rolled his eyes as the man stumbled backwards, landing on a petite brunette behind him. Chuck instinctively reached out to steady her, his arms encircling her waist. "Whoa, are you okay?"

She looked up at him, a glittery white mask covering the majority of her face from his view. Her dark doe eyes bore into his with a fierce intensity that caused his heart to skip a beat. Silky brown curls cascaded down her shoulders, and a diamond-encrusted tiara rested on the crown of her head. Chuck lowered his eyes to take in her white ball gown, smirking as he read her name tag. "Nice costume, Princess Bride."

She wrenched herself free from his grasp, anger dancing behind her large eyes. "It's not a costume, and I don't want to have sex with you, pervert!"

Chuck held his hands in the air in surrender. "Excuse me for trying to keep you from busting your ass."

She narrowed her eyes at him, clutching a bottle of vodka to her chest and stormed toward the couches lining the sides of the dance floor.

"And I didn't want to have sex with you, either," he yelled after her. A few people near the bar laughed, so he added "Bitch" for good measure.

Chuck's eyes followed her as she fell onto an oversized armchair and threw back the bottle of vodka in a long swig. He couldn't tell if she was attractive beneath the oversized mask covering most of her features, but he was mesmerized by the erotic display of her tongue licking alcohol from the corners of her pouty lips. His eyes dropped lower to the neckline of her gown, and he felt himself harden as he focused in on her ample cleavage heaving under heavy breaths. There was something about this feisty woman that aroused the hell out of him. He liked a challenge, and he was starting to rethink his no-distractions rule for the night.

He watched her for several minutes, and something in him broke when she slumped back against the seat. For the first time, he could see that tears were shining in her eyes behind her mask. What was she doing here? She seemed to be utterly miserable.

Space Cowboy approached her, and Chuck immediately stood up straighter, gripping his scotch tumbler tightly in his hand. The drunken idiot reached out a hand to caress her curl, and she immediately slapped him across the face. Chuck smirked, glad that the same fiery spirit that had insulted him earlier was still there somewhere inside this sad girl.

She stood in an attempt to put distance between them, her veil hanging over the side of her head haphazardly, and Cowboy stumbled to his feet, reaching out to grab her arm. "Come on, baby. Why are you playing hard to get? You know you want this."

"I'm not interested," she snapped. "How many times do you need to hear 'no'?"

He yanked her back toward him, pulling her forcefully onto his lap, and she scrambled to get up.

Chuck's temper stirred, and he made it to the man before security. He lifted the girl off of the man, setting her on her feet safely behind him. He turned back to the cowboy and jerked him up by the collar. "The lady said no. Get the fuck out of here." He shoved him toward the security officer, and discreetly added, "Find out who he is, and permanently suspend his membership."

He turned back to find Princess Bride clutching her hands to her chest, her eyes wide with fear. Her lip trembled, and he cursed under his breath. "You okay?" he asked huskily, draping his suit jacket over her bare shoulders.

She nodded, tears spilling forth underneath her mask. "Thank you," she whispered quietly.

"Come on." He motioned toward the VIP bar at the back of the room. "Let's get you a drink -" He looked down at her vodka. "- a better quality drink to calm your nerves. He won't be back to bother you."

They settled into a booth after Chuck ordered drinks for them both. She returned his jacket and took a sip from her glass. "I'm sorry that I called you a pervert earlier."

"I've been called worse," he shrugged, relaxing back into the booth.

"Still, I'm sorry."

He waved his hand. "You don't need to apologize."

"I guess I'm a little on edge, and vodka makes me crazy."

He eyed her for a moment, taking in her attire. She'd told him she wasn't in costume, and he slowly put the pieces together. "Damn, today was supposed to be the big day?"

She nodded, flipping her hair over her shoulder. His eyes fell to the delicate necklace resting against her clavicle with a small 'B' charm dangling from it. Rookie mistake, he thought, the rules clearly warned against wearing any identifiable jewelry or accessories.

"I don't want to talk about my cheating ex, though," she waved her hand dismissively. "You're my knight in shining armor –" She glanced down at his name tag and immediately shook her head, "No, this won't do. 'Devil' was as creative as you could get with your nickname?"

"It's a pretty accurate description."

"No, I don't think so," she flagged down a passing waiter for a pen and crossed out 'Devil' to replace it with her own nickname. "There, now you are my Dark Knight."

"Okay, Princess, I'll be your Knight," he leered, stretching his arm across the back of the booth, "Now what?"

"Well." She leaned closer, nibbling on her lower lip. He could smell the jasmine in her hair, and it was intoxicating. "Now we need a do-over without the name-calling, a reintroduction of sorts: Princess Bride meets the Dark Knight. A naughty nighttime fantasy about a masquerade ball. You in?"

"Mmm," he sighed, "I like the direction this is heading. You start."

She propped her hand under her chin, batting her lashes flirtatiously as she assumed the role of a woman trying to pick up a man in a bar. "Hi, there, handsome," she cooed, reaching out her hand to him. "Do you come here often?"

He laughed, taking her hand and turning it over to place a kiss to her knuckles. "It's my first time, though I could see it becoming a regular agenda on my social calendar. It's nice to meet you. I imagine that princess isn't your day job?"

She stilled, returning her hand to her lap. "Um, I wanted this night to be anonymous -"

"Of course," he agreed, mentally chiding himself for forgetting the rules that he created. "I shouldn't have even asked. How about we turn it into a game?"

"How so?" she asked, intrigued by the challenge dancing in his dark eyes.

"We make predictions about each other," he explained. "We don't have to confirm nor deny their validity for the sake of anonymity, though."

"Okay," she smiled. "But I have to warn you, I can be very creative."

"Oh, I'm counting on it." His voice was raspy, thick with arousal as he pondered just how creative she could get.

"Mmm," she murmured, leaning closer to him until their bodies were nearly touching at the hip, "Let's practice on other people. You know, to warm up."

Chuck's body buzzed with excitement, and he yearned to reach out and pull her onto his lap. He tempered his desires, and reminded himself that it was her wedding day. But, then, again she had willingly showed up to a sex club. "Alright," he pointed to a couple on the dance floor, "What's their story?"

The couple grinded together in what could only be described as dry-humping. The man's hands reached under the woman's mini-skirt to caress her bottom while she attached her lips to his neck and not so subtly groped him through his pants. The woman was dressed as a woodland fairy while the man wore nothing but a toga and a gold mask.

"She's a high class call girl who isn't attracted to him at all, but she's really good at her job so he can't tell. He's a politician – probably a senator – who hired her to fulfill his weird degradation kink. He paid for her membership out of a secret account that he thinks his wife doesn't know about."

Chuck arched an eyebrow. "He thinks his wife doesn't know about it?"

"Oh, she knows all about it. She's friends with the fairy, and it keeps money in the wife's pockets while keeping her husband out of her bed. She doesn't want a divorce, but she doesn't love him, either."

An amused smirk spread across Chuck's lips. "Definitely creative."

"Okay, my turn," she downed the rest of her drink and studied the variety of people filling the room. "Them," she pointed at a couple in the far corner of the room. The topless woman in a glittery skirt and silver wig arched her back against the wall as her partner knelt in front of her, kissing a path up her leg from her ankle.

Chuck looked at the girl beside him in awe and she just smirked back at him with a slight shrug in her shoulders. "See the muscles in his back. He's broad and strong – a prominent NFL player. The girl with him isn't random; she's his best friend. He's in love with her, but she wants to keep things strictly sexual – no strings attached. She doesn't like the spotlight, and she doesn't believe in monogamy. She'll fuck him, but she won't give her heart to him, so he brings her here, hoping that one day, she'll see that they belong together."

Princess Bride stared at Chuck in surprise. "You're a romantic," she observed. "Not what I expected, but I like it." She scanned the room and found Carter lounging on a couch with the red-headed angel nestled between his legs. "Okay, one more," she pointed, "Him."

Chuck suppressed a laugh as he watched Carter grab the angel's wings and pull her from her seat, leading her to the dance floor. "He's a smooth-talker, but he has to be to make up for his micro-penis. She'll be sorely disappointed if she heads upstairs with him."

"Ooh, harsh. What did he do to you?" She laughed, dropping her hand onto his thigh. He tensed beneath her touch, and she immediately pulled her hand back. "Shit, I didn't ask to touch you. I think that's one of the rules."

"It's okay." His eyelids lowered, and he angled his body toward hers. "And I can touch you?"

"Please do," she murmured.

He threaded his hands through her curls, pushing them over her shoulders to reveal the column of her throat. His thumb glided across her clavicle, sending a chill straight down her spine. "You're beautiful."

"You can't see me," she reminded him breathlessly.

"Your neck is beautiful." He lowered his lips to her throat, trailing kisses to her ear.

She whimpered, arching into him, blindly reaching her hands up to remove his necktie and unbutton the top button of his dress shirt. "I'm keeping this." She tied the silky material around her hair in a makeshift ponytail. "It's my souvenir."

"What about my souvenir?"

"I'm your souvenir."

He groaned, pulling her leg into his lap to run his hand from her ankle to her knee, relishing in the feel of her soft skin against his rough fingers. He lowered his head back to her shoulder, lapping his tongue against the delicate slopes of her collar bone. "In that case, you can have anything you want."

"Do me," she murmured, gently yanking on his hair to get him to look at her. "Who am I?"

He blinked, trying to refocus his mind through the haze of alcohol and arousal. "You're intelligent and witty. Sexy as hell, but that's obvious." He grazed her necklace with his index finger. "The letter 'B' means something to you – presumably a first or last initial. Your ex must be an idiot, but you're strong and you'll overcome whatever he put you through. You're used to getting what you want, but you work hard for everything you have."

He brushed his thumb across her lower lip, and she sucked it into her mouth, fixing her eyes to his in a display of seduction that had his pants tightening. He exhaled slowly, slipping his thumb from between her parted lips. "Do me now," he husked, "Before I lose all coherent thought."

She traced her fingers across the sharp lines of his jaw, studying him with careful consideration. "You're dressed impeccably, with a confidence that a lot of men can't carry. You use fashion to set yourself apart. I admire that," she smiled, lifting his hand to press a kiss against his palm before smoothing her thumb over his left ring finger. "There's no indentation, so you're not married – thank God. You're arrogant, but you also have this innate need to prove yourself. You're a businessman of some sorts – maybe law or finance. There's a darkness, a shrewdness to you. You're loyal to those you care about, but you can count those people on one hand. You don't trust easily."

"Do you trust easily?"

She let out a dry chuckle. "I"m sitting here in a wedding dress, jilted by a cheating groom."

Chuck leaned into her ear, "I can make you forget he ever existed. Be wicked with me tonight."

She turned her head, connecting their lips in a passionate kiss. Her hand barely brushed against his pants, causing him to groan and pull her into his lap. "What's that?" She asked, pointing to the small screen attached to the table in front of them.

He could barely think with her seated directly on his lap, but he reached forward and pushed the power button on the monitor. "Do you like to watch, Princess?"

The screen brought up the footage from multiple cameras mounted in the public rooms. Each screen showed couples in various stages of intimacy, and Chuck knew that she liked it by the way she squirmed in his lap. She reached out and enlarged a video of a couple in the throes of ecstasy, the woman bent over a couch as the man took her from behind.

She breathed heavily, her chest growing flushed as she watched the naughty image on the screen. Chuck pulled her hair over her shoulder, kissing a path up her neck to her ear, while his free hand pushed aside the voluminous layers of her gown and caressed her inner thigh, slowly inching his fingers toward her pantyline. "Is that turning you on? Does watching make you wet?"

She nodded, her head lolling back onto his shoulder as she subconsciously wriggled in his lap. He let out a low moan, trying to focus on anything but the straining in his pants. "Has anyone ever made you come in public?" he whispered quietly. She shook her head vigorously, panting hard as sheer arousal flooded her body. "Do you want me to make you come?"

"God, yes," she rasped, her eyes closing as he dipped his fingers underneath her panties, slowly exploring her folds with his fingers.

"No, open your eyes," he instructed. "Watch them while I get you off."

He gently pumped two fingers in and out of her, both their eyes fixed to the screen where the man and woman adjusted themselves into a sitting position, and the woman ground herself mercilessly onto the man. "You like that, don't you?" he murmured against her ear, curling his finger into her. Pleasure overtook her, and she cried out, slumping back against him.

"Come on, Princess," he husked, as she came down from her high. "What do you say?"

"I thought you said that you didn't want to have sex with me," she teased between heavy breaths.

"I lied." He smirked against her neck. "If I don't fuck you right now, I might actually die."

"Take me upstairs."

XOXO

They stumbled into an unoccupied room, and Chuck locked the door behind them as she fumbled with the remaining buttons on his shirt.

"Hold on," he stilled her movements. "I just want to make sure -"

"I want this," she assured him, yanking his shirt from his pants. "You said you can make me forget."

"No strings attached, right?"

"Exactly." She bit down on his shoulder as he lowered the zipper on the back of her dress, letting it pool on the ground. She stood before him in nothing but her tiara, mask, and the most demure little lace bra and panty set.

His eyes traced over her delicate curves, and he reached forward to palm her breasts through her bra. "Fuck," he lowered his mouth to the swell of her breasts, "you're perfect."

"One night. No names. No strings. Masks stay on."

Her authoritative tone sent a rush of blood straight to his groin. She was so bold and sexy. "Agreed."

He pushed her gently onto the bed and reached around her back, releasing her breasts from her bra and swirling his tongue across one nipple while his hand caressed the other. She bucked beneath him and mewled softly as he brought both hands to her chest to push her breasts together. He drew his tongue back and forth across her nipples in a tantalizing path that caused her to pull his head closer to her chest.

He chuckled at her reaction and continued to work his way down her body. He ran his hands down her sides and back up again as he teased her belly button with a swirl of his tongue. His descent eventually landed him between the apex of her thighs where he slowly pulled her underwear down her slender legs.

He tasted her swollen center with long strokes of his tongue. With a deep gurgling cry from the back of her throat, she threaded her fingers through his hair to hold him against her and wrapped her legs over his shoulder. His fingers drew a soft pattern around her hip bones, holding her in place. He lightly scraped his teeth over the exposed nub of her clit, causing her to writhe off the bed and moan, "Oh God! Yes!"

With one last lick, he pulled his head away and grinned at her. There was no better sound in the world than her sweet voice crying out in ecstasy.

She gave him a sultry pout, and his cock once again sprang to life. He was so impossibly hard that he didn't think he would last long enough to bury himself inside of her.

When her small hand found his length and began to pump, he closed his eyes and let her bring him lazy strokes of pleasure. After a few moments, she lowered herself to her knees. He grabbed her hands before she could continue and gently kissed her knuckles, "I'm way past foreplay. I need to be inside you."

She grinned at him and pushed him back on the bed, needing to be in control. He quickly rolled on a condom as she straddled his hips, lowering herself onto his aching cock. She established such an agonizingly slow pace that he bucked his hips up into her and groaned, "Baby, don't tease me. I'm dying."

She smirked down at him and fondled her breasts. "Do you want me to ride you hard and fast or slow and deep?"

He pulled her hips down onto his once again, and said, "Mmm, hard and deep. I want to be buried to the hilt when you explode all over me."

At those words, she pressed down onto him and rotated her hips back and forth. One of Chuck's favorite parts of a woman being on top was the fact that his hands were free to do as they pleased. He brushed his thumb over her nipples and felt her inner walls clamp around him.

"God, I'm not going to last much longer," he warned.

"Uh, neither am I. I'm so close."

He sat up and pulled her chest against his own. With an impossible force, he slammed his hips up to meet hers, creating the most delicious friction between their bodies. She came so hard and unexpectedly that she saw blindspots behind her eyes. "Oh, God, oh, God, oh God," she moaned over and over, her body thrashing on the bed as he flipped her so that he was in the dominant position. Several hard thrusts later, he met his release and collapsed on the bed beside her.

"Fuck," he groaned, his chest heaving beneath the weight of exertion. "That was incredible."

"I think you've turned my limbs to mush," she panted.

"Mm," he rolled over, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, "And we've still got the rest of the night."

A/N: Okay, now that I've set myself up as an incredibly depraved person, let me know what you think. Do you want me to continue or is it too much? Chapter 2 will pick up current day (a year after the events at the club).