The shock-tinged pleasure of the kiss overwhelmed Blair, causing her knees to weaken. In an instant reaction, Chuck's arm encircled her, pulling her desperately closer and erasing any semblance of space between them. Blissfully yielding, Blair's hand cupped his face, seeking deeper access to his mouth. The kiss was unlike any she had ever experienced, and she met its intensity with fervor, throbbing with desire. It felt as though their very existence depended on that singular moment, a shared breath in the throes of passion.
As they parted to recover, Blair moved away, boldly grabbing Chuck and shoving him against the wall, breaking free from the deceptively serene silence of the sidewalk. The collision with the brick wall echoed with a dry thud, and Chuck's pupils dilated with unmistakable lust, intensifying her pleasure. At that moment, all rational thought abandoned her; her body took over, and Blair was determined to savor every second.
Thoughts became her enemy. Occasionally, fleeting self-awareness of the explicit nature of their actions brushed against her mind, only to be quickly replaced by Chuck's hands exploring her body and his lips tracing a heated path along her neck. Tilting her head back, Blair offered him unrestricted access, teetering on the verge of ecstasy whenever he nibbled on that sensitive spot below her ear. The intoxicating sensation and the all-encompassing fire within consumed every inch of her being.
Entertaining any thought other than reveling in this euphoria was inconceivable.
Without hesitation, Blair returned to his mouth, a fierce need to reclaim him pulsating through her. Her hands slipped inside the interior of his suit jacket, aching with an insatiable need to touch him further. The power she wielded over him was a potent drug of the finest kind. As her hands trailed downward, Chuck halted her.
"Blair…" He panted, his breathing heavy. "Blair."
What, why? Why was he stopping?
"Mm." She struggled to weave coherent thoughts through the haze of heightened sensations.
She didn't want the moment to end; she didn't want to think. Blair simply wanted to feel. So, she tried to recapture the heat of their previous kiss, but he seemed intent on conversation. Hadn't they talked enough that night?
"Don't you want this?" Blair pressed herself harder against him, feeling the palpable evidence of his arousal. It was abundantly clear that he did.
Yet, what if this held no uniqueness or special significance, destined to fade into the sea of his countless encounters? What if she was merely one more on his list, just another conquest to be cataloged in his infamous black book? No. That couldn't be. Blair refused to accept that their connection was so trivial, and their mutual respect so meaningless. Yet, what if she wasn't enough? The looming uncertainty of her own inexperience gnawed at her, and she loathed the creeping feeling of vulnerability, of not knowing what to do, a stark contrast to the exhilaration of riding the highest and most intense wave just moments before. Her own thoughts began to betray her as she trembled slightly in his arms.
"You have no idea how much," Chuck reassured her, closing his eyes as if to regain control, his grip on her tightening.
"You're drunk."
Chuck's gaze locked onto hers, his eyes piercing. "I'm in complete control of my faculties."
"Are you really?" Blair whispered, her voice a provocative caress, as she tested the waters.
He lingered on her lips, her exposed neck, cleavage, their bodies pressed together as one. Her heartbeat echoed loudly under his scrutiny. It was a question that needed no answer.
"What's the matter then?" she probed.
"You… you. Are you sure?"
Chuck's words only reignited the desire that pulsed between them. Without a moment's delay, Blair sought him out again, hungry for the connection that had momentarily been interrupted. The urgency and shared need surpassed the limitations of mere words. Actions spoke louder, did they not?
Her hands traced a path upward, encircling his neck as she pushed herself up, increasing the intensity of their kiss once more. Their tongues intertwined with urgency and Chuck's hand ventured tentatively down the side of her body, squeezing her thigh firmly. However, Blair wanted more—much more.
When she broke the kiss, Blair's breath came in heavy, heated gasps. "I'm not going to break, you know," she dared, her voice saturated with both desire and defiance.
"I can assure you, Blair, I'm not kissing you like you're made of glass."
"Then touch me the same way."
"You're killing me."
"Dying can be quite pleasurable if you're doing it right."
"Sounds like a tempting proposition, and you know I never shy away from one."
She leaned in, her voice a low whisper, "Good."
Blair basked once again in the intoxicating awareness of her own power. She should probably be self-conscious, but how could she be when Chuck was looking at her like he had wanted to slam her against the wall and fuck her raw for years.
In an unspoken choreography, as if reading her mind, Chuck effortlessly shifted their positions. Now her back met the solid and cold wall of the building. His right hand, possessive and urgent, lifted her leg, rising under the concealment of her dress. Higher and higher. Rubbing himself against her center, Blair could feel all of him at once. It was dirty, it was rough, it was everything her body was screaming for.
He moaned against her mouth, and in response, Blair smiled broadly, capturing his lip between her teeth.
The moisture between her legs attested to the unparalleled level of arousal, and with one hand tangled in his hair, the other fumbled eagerly with his belt, an urgent attempt to remove any barriers that stood between them.
"Blair."
She stilled her movements at the sound of his voice. What now?
"Shut up, Chuck," she snapped. "I'm dead serious."
"Slow down."
"Why?"
"We're practically pulling on a street show."
The thought of people staring at them made her even hornier. Blair struggled to find a plausible explanation for this madness, but her mind resisted any coherent thought. "So?"
"Do you want an audience?"
"I couldn't care less," she murmured against his mouth. "Let them watch."
"Fuck," Chuck swore.
"That's what I'm trying to do."
"God help me."
Blair's hand, still tangled in Chuck's hair, subtly tightened its grip. "This is really not a good time to pledge yourself to divine intervention."
"You're incredible," Chuck laughed, a profound depth beyond mere lust dancing in his eyes.
Blair leaned in, her lips caressing his ear with deliberate slowness. "Flattery won't save you, Bass."
A low, almost primal growl erupted from Chuck's throat, the sound resonating with an untamed desire. "When has it saved me, Waldorf?" His voice, deep and husky, carried the weight of every compliment he'd paid her in the past, each one a declaration of truth that Blair had doubted until that very moment.
Perhaps it was time she started believing them.
Years of a lackluster love life, coupled with an even more dismal and non-existent sex life, all the while marinating in this thick, air-deprived tension with him. Always lingering, never resolved. It was time the universe granted her some mercy, and the means to do so throbbed tantalizingly against her—close enough to tease, yet frustratingly distant.
"I don't want you to regret this in the morning," his tone grew more serious.
Chuck cupped her face, sliding his index and middle fingers down on either side of her throat until he settled his hand just above her chest, near her heart. He applied a gentle pressure, and Blair felt the fluttery sensation in her own chest spread radially in all directions. "I won't," she said, her voice almost breathless.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because I want to. Do I need any other reason?"
He frowned almost imperceptibly. "No. Not really."
Blair wanted more than anything to wipe the frown off his face. She took a moment to compose herself, trying to get to the bottom of his worries.
"What's with all these questions?" she inquired.
"It's just…" he hesitated, an almost embarrassed expression crossing his features. "Never mind."
Chuck, ever the master of distraction, returned to her neck, his lips leaving wet marks and teasing her all over again. Her head tilted back, eyes closed, and she couldn't help but lose herself in the moment. How could she possibly say no to something that felt so damn good?
Yet, she had to. At least, for now.
"Tell me," she moaned, her nails sinking into his shoulders.
He was just so hard to resist.
Before she had a chance to fully surrender, the air filled with suggestive whistling, accompanied by the slurred words of an inebriated man. "Boy, don't keep that sweet ass all to yourself; let the rest of us have a taste too."
The guy was a wreck. His shirt hung loosely outside his pants, belt unbuttoned, jacket soiled and dangling from one arm. Swaying back and forth, his bloodshot eyes told a tale of excess.
Chuck turned his head, and Blair felt him tighten under her hands.
However, she was quicker, "Ah, the sewer has spit out another rat. How charming."
"Feisty. I like that," the man responded. "Maybe I'll stick around for the show."
"If I were you, I'd save my front-row seat money for a new wardrobe and a dose of manners. It might be a worthy investment."
"Well, darling, if you're the investment, I'd say it's worth every penny."
"Fuck off," Chuck seethed as he released Blair and turned entirely to face the man.
"What if I don't? What are you going to do? Hit me?"
Chuck chuckled, a cold edge to his laughter. "Me? Nothing. She'll take care of that all by herself."
A proud grin lit up Blair's face as she basked in the satisfaction of knowing that he truly understood her like no one else. Not only did Chuck see her true self, but he embraced her without reservation; he wasn't intimidated, he was proud. The impenetrable bond between them deepened like a secret handshake, and Blair found herself enjoying the solid partnership they'd forged over time.
Blair approached the guy, the click of her heels echoing on the pavement with each calculated step. He began backing up until he stumbled and fell to the ground.
"Pathetic," she declared, staring down at him with disdain.
Chuck grabbed her hand and pulled her away, leading her to a quieter spot, far from that pathetic excuse for a man. Her feet throbbed in her high heels, but more pressing matters took precedence.
"Now, where were we?" she asked, positioning herself in front of him, palms pressed against his chest.
The somber and regretful look in Chuck's eyes told her that they weren't anywhere. Not anymore. That stupid asshole had ruined everything. Blair should have planted her heel right into his carotid artery.
That brief descent into reality had closed Chuck in.
Blair clutched the lapels of his jacket. The remnants of arousal, once full of promise and potential, now simmered beneath the surface like a storm denied release. Tension lingered in the air, a palpable force yearning for resolution, yet remaining elusive in the aftermath of the unfortunate interruption.
However, whatever message his eyes were trying to convey, it was killing him to hold back from giving her what she wanted, and Blair knew it.
"I don't give a damn about what that idiot said," Blair tried.
"You should."
"Since when do you let the opinions of others get under your skin? Especially from some random nobody who can't even remember his own name."
"This has nothing to do with me."
"You're the one pulling a face like that man just swiped your favorite scarf, and you're not even listening. I've said it loud and clear—I don't care."
"I heard you."
"What's wrong with you?" Blair demanded, a frown etching her face.
There was something that had been bothering him from the start, and she was hell-bent on finding out what it was. No distractions this time.
"Well?" she tried again.
"You deserve so much better than being slammed against a wall, mistaken for just any woman I might pick up at the club," Chuck confessed, looking away.
Blair winced.
That hurt a little. It stung to think that he had such a low opinion of himself, and contemplating the women Chuck frequented in that damn club, or any other woman for that matter, was equally unsettling.
"I wasn't doing anything I didn't want to do," she tried to assert herself.
"Still. I should have known better."
"I'm not a child."
"Do you honestly believe I see you as a child?" Chuck's gaze lingered over her. "Come on, Waldorf."
A surge of heat welled up within her, attempting to settle in her cheeks, but Blair tried to fight it. "If you don't, let me be the judge of what I do and don't deserve. Extend me the courtesy of some respect."
"I don't want to treat you like a casual hook-up."
"Then don't! I've told you I am neither fragile nor weak. And if I want you to fuck me against a wall, or the floor, or a bench on the street, just do it."
"But…"
"Stop." Blair crossed her arms. "Stop talking about the women you pick up at the club or the prostitutes you spend your nights with. Just stop talking altogether, Chuck. You had one simple thing to do, and, surprise, you ruined it."
Chuck let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Blair, I just don't want to hurt you."
"Well, this is not the fucking way," she snapped, her frustration boiling over.
She started walking in no particular direction, the night air doing little to ease the heat of the moment. Blair knew she couldn't go much farther, yet the need to distance herself from Chuck drove her forward. She needed to think, and she couldn't do that standing right in front of him after everything that had transpired between them.
"Where are you going?" Chuck's voice echoed behind her, but she didn't answer, steadfast in her resolve to increase the distance.
His footsteps closed in. "Blair!"
Determined to escape, Blair quickened her pace, the city lights overhead shimmering like hushed spectators.
The persistent voice of reason, which had initially urged restraint and cautioned against Chuck's experience as opposed to her own lack of it, echoed in Blair's mind.
Should she have known better?
Adding to the confusion was the fact that Blair felt no remorse at all. If she could go back in time, she'd willingly mute the rational part of her brain and let her body lead her once again. Dancing on the edge of the craziest decision of her life, the lack of regret surprised her. Then again, she'd never be sorry for anything that opened her eyes to the boundless sensations her body could experience.
Now, in the aftermath, frustration and lust coiled inside her, an intoxicating mix that made her feel vulnerable.
"Just let me get you home," Chuck implored as he caught up with her.
Here she stood, unapologetic for her actions, her mind consumed by the lingering hunger for his touch, and all he talked about was taking her home without touching her at all. That only fueled her frustration even more.
"No," she asserted, her tone sharp.
"What do you mean, no?" Chuck questioned, a furrow forming on his brow. "How the hell are you going to get back?"
"I'm calling for a cab."
"I brought you here. We're leaving together," he said firmly.
"You're not my babysitter. I can handle myself."
"Alright, Blair, whatever you say," Chuck sighed. "Just don't expect me to leave you here alone."
"You're free to wait here with me, but I'm not getting into that limo with you."
"Stubborn as ever."
"You have no idea, Chuck."
"When will this fucking night end?" he mumbled almost imperceptibly.
Well, if he wanted the night to end, she had just given him the quickest way out.
However, at that moment, Blair's lack of independence hit her like a ton of bricks—she had left her purse, and consequently her phone, in Chuck's limo. The options to call for a cab were pretty limited, so she extended her hand in his direction.
"Give me your phone," she demanded.
"I'm not doing that."
Blair approached him with determination, her fingers making a quick move to snatch his phone from his tailored pants pocket. Chuck, equally resolute, anticipated her move and reacted with a cat-like reflex to intercept her. His hand closed around hers, and the atmosphere crackled with tension as they engaged in a heated struggle, each refusing to back down.
"Just give me the damn phone."
After a brief tug-of-war that felt momentarily frozen in time, as if the very air held its breath, Chuck finally relented, perhaps realizing that this was not a battle worth fighting. He handed over his phone, and Blair wasted no time. Her fingers danced across the screen as she swiftly dialed a cab, the distant buzz of the city becoming the backdrop to her movements, fueled by a mixture of annoyance and a desperate need to escape.
As they waited in tense silence, Blair couldn't ignore the persistent attraction between them, even in the midst of their disagreement. Chuck, on the other hand, seemed to be wrestling with his own conflicting emotions.
The cab arrived, interrupting their thoughts. Blair climbed in, leaving Chuck standing on the sidewalk. Before she could close the door, he spoke, his tone softening.
"Blair, please. Let me explain."
She hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to understand and the need to protect herself. In the end, it was stupid to keep fighting when he so adamantly refused to give in, so she shook her head and closed the door.
But what did she really want him to give in for?
The cab pulled away, leaving Chuck behind.
Back in her room, dressed in her favorite blue silk ruffle dress, Blair found it impossible to rid her mind of the lingering traces of Chuck's lips, the firm grip of his hands, and the shared moans that still reverberated through her memory and clung to her skin. Every inch of her body ached for release.
Far from providing the clarity she desperately sought, the distance between them seemed to amplify every sensation to an overwhelming degree. Their kisses played on a loop in her mind, each repetition more intense than the last. How could she sleep when just moments before, he had kissed her like he was being drafted for war at the crack of dawn?
It didn't matter how hard she tried to swat it away, Chuck's presence was still hanging in the air, making her wonder how to hit pause on the replay of that first kiss, which had seemed more like a declaration of war on her self-control. The floodgates had swung wide, and there was no closing them now.
Doubts began to creep in, casting shadows over the delirious aftermath of their impulsive encounter. Had it come too fast, too soon? Had she allowed the power of her jealousy and the need to be his first and only option to blindly guide her without fully understanding the consequences of her actions?
What if the force that really propelled her forward was the desire to remove the heavy stone blocking her path? The need to check the box that filled her with the most shame. Blair had banged her head against the wall with Nate more times than she cared to admit. She had tried and tried and tried, only for him to dismiss her, making her feel wrong, undesirable, and unworthy. With Chuck, it was different. Not only did she feel none of those things, she felt the exact opposite. Blair felt his need as much as she felt her own. What had felt like a tedious chore in her previous relationship gave way to the highest high of her life. Blair hadn't thought; she had just let herself go, reveling in all the power that having him at her mercy gave her.
But was it merely about power, or was there something more profound brewing beneath the surface?
As the moments passed, it became increasingly unclear whether she was really ready to take that next step with him. The lines between desire, power, inexperience, and something deeper began to blur.
Perhaps it was for the best that he had stopped her before.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and before Blair could pretend to be asleep, Chuck entered the room without awaiting a response. Blair sat up in bed, her back against the headboard. Although she knew it was irrational, she felt an instinctive need to cover herself, so she pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them.
"I only wanted to know if you made it here in one piece," Chuck said quietly.
"Well, as you can see, I'm perfectly fine."
Their eyes locked, and Chuck's expression hinted that he had more on his mind than just checking on her. But Blair wasn't about to roll out the red carpet for him. They simply stared at each other, for what felt like a few minutes or perhaps a small eternity; who was keeping track, anyway? The unspoken truths simmered between them, waiting to be confronted. They were both so damn stubborn.
"Close the door on your way out," Blair declared.
Truth be told, she didn't actually want him to leave. There was this undeniable ache for him to open up, to stay a little longer. It struck a chord that he had come by her room to check on her, proving that, no matter what happened, he would always care, even through all their ups and downs. No matter how loudly they bickered, Chuck was always hanging around, a constant presence in her life.
He didn't leave. Instead, he approached the bed and sat down on the edge without making physical contact. Her defenses wavered.
"Any idea if Nate and Serena have arrived yet?" Chuck drawled, lowering his gaze to his perfectly manicured hands. He was holding something, but she couldn't make out what it was.
Blair doubted that was the actual topic Chuck had in mind, but she played along.
"Didn't bother to check." Blair remarked casually, raising an eyebrow. "Why? Are you also worried about their well-being? Hoping they made it here in one piece, I'm sure."
"I didn't say I was worried about you."
"You didn't need to." Her words hung in the air.
Chuck handed her what he was holding—her phone, left forgotten in his limo. As their hands brushed, instead of letting go, he kept her hand in his grasp, his thumb tracing delicate, repetitive patterns along her knuckles.
"Thanks," she gasped. After he let go, she placed the phone on her nightstand. "Do you genuinely care about Nate and Serena's whereabouts? We can call them if you want."
"No," he said. "I couldn't care less about what those two are up to right now."
"That was truly one of the lamest attempts at conversation I've ever seen, Bass."
"Well, you can't fault me after tonight. Never felt like such a fish out of water."
He reached for her hand again, and Blair felt her control slip away like water through her fingers. She subtly eased the tension in her posture, freeing her knees and scooting a little closer to him on the bed.
"I've been such a bitch," she acknowledged her own behavior, a hint of a smile toying with the corners of her lips. It wasn't an apology, but it could count as one, she thought.
"Hadn't noticed," he shot back, a smirk forming on his lips.
It was such a beautiful sight.
"I'm sorry for all the crap I said earlier. I was trying way too hard not to screw things up with you but, story of my life, I still did. I wish I had a clue on how to handle stuff I actually care about," he finally confessed. "And yeah, sorry about the kiss."
"I was the one who kissed you."
"I kept it going and…"
He had to put a stop to it. Blair had endured a lot, but the idea of him regretting what went down wasn't something she could bear. The thought was even worse than she had imagined.
Still, she needed to know. Better to rip off the band-aid quickly than drag it out. "Do you regret it?"
Chuck ceased tracing her knuckles, drawing her into his lap. She gladly let him, guided by a natural longing to close the distance and enjoy the closeness of his embrace.
"Do you want the truth?" he questioned, delicately tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Yes."
"No. Do you?"
Blair let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "No."
"What does that mean for us?"
"I don't know," she replied honestly.
"Okay."
With that, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Blair had been dying to do it since the very instant they had parted and, oh, it was as good as the first time. His soft lips caressed hers in a sensual dance. The kiss unfolded with a deliberate slowness, each movement carefully considered. His hands found a resting place on her hips, while hers clasped behind his neck.
When his tongue sought entry, she willingly parted her lips.
They stayed like that for a while, savoring each other and not letting go. Chuck's touch became more assertive, and she reciprocated, eager to explore every inch of him.
Blair tugged a bit too firmly at his hair, prompting a gasp. She shifted her attention from his mouth to his neck, the intensity of the moment overwhelming her. The sensation was so potent that she felt as though she might burst.
As Chuck's hand boldly ascended, tracing the delicate curve of her thigh and inching toward the provocative border of her panties, Blair abruptly froze. The harsh reality of the moment crashed over her like a tidal wave—this was happening; it was the rawest, most palpable experience she had ever confronted. Her body urged her to surrender completely, to take him, but her mind screamed with equal intensity. Unprepared. Inadequate. Not enough. A disappointment. In her internal struggle, the fear of letting Chuck down and revealing her vulnerability loomed large. It was all too much. The stakes were high; if she succumbed, she risked losing everything, even him.
His subsequent withdrawal and return to her thigh brought a measure of relief. "It's okay," he reassured.
Emotion welled within her, a tumultuous blend of tears and frustration.
"I understand," he asserted before she could articulate her thoughts. "Don't forget, I know you better than I know myself."
Comforting words, yet she doubted he would want to keep up with her much longer.
"It's okay," he reiterated, punctuating the sentiment with a gentle kiss. Short and deliberate, careful to avoid undue pressure. In that simple act, a comforting warmth began to coil around her heart.
Later, she lay beside him, pondering whether to bring up the subject of his stay. However, she found no need to formulate the question as he interlocked their hands and planted a tender kiss on the back of hers.
"I'll stay," he affirmed.
With those words, they both gave in to the embrace of Morpheus, leaving behind a night that some might label as turbulent, but Blair chose to cherish as something marvelous and life-changing.