I'm here to take my medicine, take my medicine
Treat you like a gentleman
The Van der Bass wedding party had been abandoned, the last verse of Death Cab for Cuties' 'The Ice is Getting Thinner' barely fading when Blair seized Chuck's hand, dragging him towards the nearest exit.
So much for taking things slow.
Hands cupping her face, Chuck tilted Blair's head further and deepened the kiss–capturing each of her little moans between his teeth.
Her tongue traced the outline of his bottom lip, requesting entrance that he granted instantly.
Blair's fingers twisted in his hair, tugging with a tantalizing force that she knew drove him wild. Chuck's hands travelled up her legs, his nails grazing the backs of her thighs.
Coursing with adrenaline—their bodies pressed together, breathless and gasping for air between insatiable ravenous kisses.
Blair's smaller frame pinned him to the door of his suite at The Palace. Her nimble fingers found their way beneath his Armani dress shirt, her nails leaving a trail of fiery marks along his skin.
Without even seeming to try, she coaxed shivers from him—something that Chuck would never admit anyone could do... even if it was her.
"I thought you wanted romance, Waldorf?", he teased, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Not sneaking off to fuck in my hotel room."
Chuck lowered his voice, knowing the effect it had on Blair, making her eyes sparkle and darken with desire.
Despite having only had two glasses of Chardonnay at the dinner table, he felt drunk–so Chuck assumed the feeling could be only be attributed to her.
Blair simply smirked in response, her innocent doe eyes completely contradicting the self-satisfied aura she emitted.
"Can't I have both?", she challenged, with eyes that told Chuck that she knew he would never be able to refuse her anything–especially not this.
Blair Waldorf was nothing if not persuasive.
Chuck couldn't help but smirk in response, his teeth gently nipping at her shoulder, a mix of pleasure and possessiveness coursing through him.
Forget drunk–she had him completely entirely wasted.
Chuck had worried that once their dalliance was no longer forbidden, Blair wouldn't get off on it the same way. But here she was, the reigning Queen of Constance, pulling him closer, urging him to abandon any notions of treating her like a gentleman.
Or, at least, the kind of gentleman she was used to...
Blair tasted like champagne and honey, with an ever-lingering hint of Chanel No.5.
He knew the distinct flavour of her better than his own favourite single malt whiskey or the powdered sugariness of her beloved Ladurée Macaroons that they'd shared several times in the afterglow.
Blair tasted like something sweet and effervescent—something that Chuck craved.
"You want me." Blair taunted, her voice oozing pure triumphant arrogance.
Chuck adored this side of her, adored how certain she was that he wanted her. Every part of her.
In all things, Blair was steadfast in pursuing her heart's desires—whether that was her rightful place on the top step of the Met or the sweet taste of retribution when she had been wronged. And nothing turned Chuck on more than when she directed that same determination towards him...
Her eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy as Chuck savoured the taste of her, his fingers eagerly seeking the dark pink bow that secured the halterneck of her dress.
Chuck peppered kisses along her clavicle and up her neck. "Just as much as you want me", he murmured against her skin.
His lips hit a particularly sensitive spot, causing Blair to arch closer to him. Feigning annoyance at how her body had inadvertently proven his point, Blair scowled against his lips.
Chuck couldn't help but laugh softly, his amusement blending with their passionate kisses as she impatiently reclaimed his lips with her own once more.
"So arrogant," Blair tsked, shaking her head.
She allowed him to switch their positions until she was the one pressed against the surface of the door.
Chuck smirked. "Don't act like you're not impressed," he answered quietly, lips grazing her ear once more. "It takes one to know one."
And he knew her, just like she knew him—it went without saying.
Chuck smiled smugly when he felt Blair shiver in his arms.
Encouraged, he gathered the edge of her dress in his hands until the puffed hem was pooled up at her hips, giving him the access he sought.
"You really do bring out the worst in me, Bass", Blair teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she allowed Chuck's fingers to trail as far up her inner thigh as he pleased.
His fingers reached their destination, faintly skimming her panties and finding her every bit as eager and wanting as he was.
Pushing the sodden lace to one side, Chuck dipped inside her–causing Blair to gasp. He thrust his fingers deeper, delighting at her impatient wanton little noises and just how wet and hot for him she was.
—before he retreating once again almost as suddenly.
Blair gripped Chuck's shoulders, looking torn between scolding him and devouring him.
"And you the very best in me", Chuck confessed in a rare moment of earnestness.
He could admit that it was strange timing, his fingers sticky with her desire and her on the precipice of an orgasm—but he and Blair were nothing if not unconventional.
She smiled softly, her inital frustration vanishing as she took in the sight of him.
"I thought we we were going to take it slow this time," Blair remarked gently breathlessly, throwing back his words from earlier.
Her eyes told him that she wanted no such thing.
Chuck sunk to his knees in front of her, with every intention of being as infuriatingly attentive as possible.
Blair's eyes darkened with desire and satisfaction, anticipating his next move–reading him like tea leaves.
"Oh, I plan to take things very slow," he crooned, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh.
I had a few, got drunk on you
and now I'm wasted
The lingering burn of one too many shots of Tequilla stung the back of Chuck's throat.
Collapsing into bed, he raked his fingers through his damp hair. Despite the heat, Chuck didn't bother turning on the AC.
If this was what hell would be like, he may as well get used to it.
A week had passed since New York's most powerful families had left the city for the summer, packing their designer luggage and moving to the seaside like some strange flock of migratory birds.
Since arriving in the Hamptons, the nights had been almost as hot as the days.
And the women...well, they were pretty hot too.
Chuck had spent the better part of a week dodging his friend's judmental eyes.
Despite Nate and Serena's disappointment and general lack of surprise at his betrayal of Blair, Chuck was strangely comforted by the knowledge that they couldn't possibly hold stronger feelings towards him than he already did towards himself.
After all, Chuck Bass and self-loathing had always been the best of bedfellows ...accompanied, of course, by a few dozen loose women.
Chuck attempted to push away the memories of those nights when he woke up drenched in his own sweat.
The suffocating weight of his own guilt descended upon him when Chuck remembered how he had left Blair waiting for him at the helipad–slightly embarrassed and with only his father's marketing team for company.
Chuck had always known there was a darkness within him, a wild incorruptible destructive tendency that threatened to tear apart and burn every good thing –every bright light– around him.
His father, Bart, was well aware of it and Blair, with her keen perception and knowing eyes, wouldn't take long to realise it either.
For a split second, Chuck could almost smell the familiar calming scent of honey, champagne and Channel No.5.
Blair's signature scent–something he always got drunk on.
Although it had been days, the taste of her lips still lingered on Chuck's tongue; needy, ravenous and salty from their shared perspiration. He could feel how Blair's body had felt pressed against his–the rightness of it as she came apart in his arms.
The trust she placed in him haunted him now, the trust he'd completely disregarded.
Who had he been kidding thinking he could play boyfriend? Chuck Bass! There wasn't a single bone in his body that was suited to being part of a long-term relationship.
Even if it was a relationship with her .
Enough!
The heavy haze of far too much alcohol clouded Chuck's thoughts once more, until the sound of movement in the bathroom brought him back to reality.
Amy? Amanda? Amelia? —her name didn't matter.
Inevitably, there would only be one name on Chuck's lips when his body slipped out of hers, sated and spent.
The girl in the bathroom wasn't Blair Waldorf and her eyes didn't have the potential to see right through him into the dark unending abyss inside.
And for tonight, that was more than enough.
And when I sleep, I'm gonna dream of how you... tasted