Blair Waldorf had come to understand that "I love you" could mean a thousand different things. Sometimes, it meant nothing at all—just a worn-out string of words, overused and serving a selfish end. Uttered out of habit or convenience, it could be a tool to appease, to control, or to get what one wanted without any true commitment to the sentiment behind it. Other times, "I love you" meant "I am here for you." In those moments, it was a promise, a pledge of loyalty, a reminder that no matter how dark and difficult life got, you were never truly alone.
Three little words that could be both too meaningful and too meaningless.
Blair had heard it countless times from friends, boyfriends, and family, yet each one carried a unique cadence. Each relationship had its own rhythm; each declaration of love played a different set of chords.
With Serena—dear, perfect Serena—it was the steadfast support of a lifelong friend. Platonic, long-lasting. This was Philia, the Greeks would say—a deep, strong bond that promised to stand the test of time, even when they were at odds.
Nate's love had a different ring to it, or so she had thought. Blair once believed it was far more than a childhood dream, hovering in the realm of Eros—passionate love, full of romance and attraction. Lustful. Sexual. However, the musical notes meant for her ex-boyfriend never played the desired melody, no matter how hard she tried. And she had tried, fought tooth and nail. Instead, each word had been a perfectly placed blindfold, preventing her from facing the brutal truth. A mere transaction cloaked in innocence. Words exchanged with ease, but lacking the depth to sustain them. Love born of friendship that never fully blossomed into something more.
Then there was Storge—the familial love, complex in its own way. Harold Waldorf embraced it wholeheartedly. His words, a source of comfort that made Blair feel safe. Reinforced by blood, sweet memories, and familiarity, she had never doubted him, loved her father with all her might. But then, one day, he left, shattering the promises that once held her world together. How could he leave when he had sworn to always be there for her? To always protect her?
Her mother's love, on the other hand, felt more like a strategy—conditional, wrapped in expectations. It demanded compliance and perfection. Love with strings attached.
But Chuck… Chuck… It was hard to put into words. There was Ludus, the playful flirtation that kept things exciting. Eros, the undeniable passion that set her heart racing. Philia, the friendship that had grown stronger through the years. And perhaps even Storge, a deep-seated bond that felt almost familiar. With Chuck, it was everything, all at once.
Now, as she sat next to him at their favorite spot on the beach, their relationship unfolded like a labyrinth designed by Daedalus himself, its twists and turns leading to undiscovered corners of their connection. In the present moment, with him looking at her like the world had stopped spinning on its axis, Blair's heart pounded hard against her chest.
I did it for you, Blair. Because I… I love you.
Those three words. Those three damn words. Surprising. Thrilling. Perfect. The sparkling, sizzling crescendo of the melody she had wanted to hear but never dared to expect. Not from him.
Chuck Bass loved her.
Could it truly be? Did she hear it right, or was it merely a cruel, pain-induced hallucination? Her foot was broken, and it had made her delirious. That had to be it. Right? The sharp, relentless throbbing had clouded her mind, blurring the lines between reality and wishful thinking.
Blair had prepared herself—for excuses, vague and hollow and short. For Chuck to run away again, driven by cowardice and the allure of the easy way out. For him to deny what had happened between them in their short time together. The bitter confirmation that it had all been just a game, a twisted dance of deception. That, ultimately, he didn't want her. That she was a mistake. But he hadn't done that. Not at all. No matter how hard Blair had tried to push every one of his buttons. His complete one-eighty had made her head spin.
Her hand trembled over his, her pulse quickening, but the warmth of his skin grounded her.
You really love me? she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Blair hated that split second of vulnerability, still tender from the wounds of the previous week. Having to ask, almost beg, for confirmation left her feeling like a discordant note in a symphony craving the harmony that would bring order back. How fragile her heart had become. It was all too much, but she needed to hear it again, to be sure he really meant it.
In his response, there wasn't a trace of hesitation. His eyes, steady and strong, never wavered from hers. He loved her. More than anything. Could she trust him? Could she trust herself to accept that kind of all-encompassing love?
A calm spread through her, bringing a quiet certainty that hadn't been there before. It felt as if every bit of doubt, every jagged edge, had finally clicked into place.
Every shared laugh, like that time they went ice skating together and he tried to impress her but ended up flat on the ice, with Blair teasing him as they slid around, clinging to each other for balance. Every lingering touch that made her heart beat out of her chest and her skin quiver. His hand on her back as they navigated the crowded rooms of the Upper East Side, even while she was Nate's girlfriend. Every stolen glance, her eyes searching for his across the dance floor, wishing it was her in his arms, hoping it was him in hers. Every whispered secret and scheme, like when they plotted to sabotage that pathetic social climber Jenny Humphrey purely for their own amusement. Every little thing, no matter how insignificant or momentous, had led them to this very moment.
For the first time, the walls around her own heart started to crumble.
It was real. Unmistakable.
Blair had heard it right. As for her foot? It was definitely not broken. It was fine, more than fine. And so was she.
So, when he said he wanted to kiss her, she could only let him. Let the wild, beguiling melody reach its climax, because she wanted it just as much. In that instant, there was no past, no future, only the immediate present. And in true Blair Waldorf fashion, she couldn't resist throwing him a challenge—one last dare.
Then let it burn.
His pupils dilated in response, the lighter flecks of his irises disappearing into darkness. Her lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as her breath hitched, shallow and almost ragged with anticipation and need.
He wouldn't, couldn't back down—not now, not after all he'd told her. Not after exposing his heart so completely. Every uttered syllable, every emotion laid bare, bound him irrevocably. It made retreat impossible. If he did, Blair would never forgive him. This was his chance to prove that his actions matched his words, that he was ready to defy all odds. To challenge every doubt, every sibylline whisper others dared to throw at him, every misconception he held about himself. That he was weak, that he was wrong. That he was not enough. Every illusion that had haunted him. It was time for him to prove that it was them against the world.
Time to show her how much he wanted her. Time for her to embrace it, savor it, and return it in kind.
Her pulse thudded relentlessly in her throat, thrummed in her wrists, surged through every inch of her being.
Then, without so much as a single word, he did it. He let the world go up in flames around them.
The kiss was not soft. It was not sweet. It was not gentle. It was everything but. Hard. Desperate. Intoxicating. It tasted of salt and shared victory. Of raw, unbridled hunger not yet satisfied. His lips were insistent, shaping hers with an irresistible pressure, and she kept up, oh, did she keep up, hoping to drill into that thick skull of his that he never stood a chance. Not against her, anyway. Right there and then, Blair Waldorf vowed to make Chuck Bass regret every second he had ever thought of being away from her.
His hands roamed frantically, tracing the curve of her waist and the dip of her back before settling firmly on her hips. With a decisive pull, he brought her to his lap, guiding her legs to one side with laughable care, mindful of her foot despite the warm desire Blair was sure it was coursing through them both.
But this was no time for chivalry.
The ache inside her demanded for action. Embarrassing, this need. And yet, was it really? How could it be, with him matching her so perfectly? When she finally pulled away, her mouth burned with heat, alight with a sensation that pulsed across her tongue and down her throat.
A low, needy sigh escaped her lips before she could stop it.
His tongue dipped into her mouth again and she yielded a bit, tilting her head back to give him greater access. It was softer now, her lips were now more pliable, akin to clay shapes that he molded into form.
Then, Blair shifted and straddled him fully, the delicious hardness of him beneath her. As she adjusted her position, she flinched slightly, but honestly, it hardly mattered. There was little that did. Her dress, mercifully stretchy, rode up her thighs, granting Blair the freedom to spread her legs wider and press as close as she could to his hips. Still, it wasn't enough. Could it ever be? She wanted more. Needed more. More pressure. Just… more. Blair needed to fuck every last bit of gentleness out of him.
As she rubbed against him, Chuck tightened his grip around her waist, trying to slow things down and regain control.
Trying to.
And failing spectacularly.
Blair's smile blossomed softly against his mouth. Maybe because she knew she was driving him wild with so little, or perhaps it was just the simple, unadulterated truth of her own delight.
He broke the kiss, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Waldorf," he managed. "Slow down."
"Trying to rein me in, Bass?"
"Someone has to."
Her fingers traced along his jawline. "Is that it?"
"Mm-hmm." It slipped out as a breathy murmur, his eyes half-lidded.
"Oh, so you really think you can? Think you can control me with just a few words?" she challenged, her lips so close to his she could almost taste them again.
"No." A soft, intoxicating laugh rumbled from inside him. "Not at all."
Why would she slow down? All she could think of was how wonderfully they fit together, the bulge of his pants pressing against her core, her every little movement eliciting a pulse of pleasure. It was all too perfect and she'd rather die than stop now.
"I don't think there's a person on Earth who can," he added.
His eyes were glassy, his hair a beautiful mess.
"Why try to hold back?" Blair dared him. "Admit it, you love the rush."
"The rush? Or you?"
"Both."
"I do."
Her breath caught in her throat. Could she get used to it? Blair pressed her body closer to his, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, "I'll let you catch your breath… eventually."
The next moment, her mouth found the curve of his shoulder and neck. He groaned as Blair nibbled, tasted, and teased. At this pace, she was bound to leave a mark. Something inside her rolled and buzzed hotly at the thought. Mark him. He deserved it.
His hands ventured up her bare thighs, under her dress, higher and higher. Her skin burned under his touch and her stomach fell, lower and lower. Chuck pulled her in for another kiss, moving like a thirsty man who had only intended to take a sip of water but couldn't resist after that thrilling first taste.
Blair's fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently at first, then harder. The gasp it elicited blurred the line between complaint and invitation, and the ambiguity only fueled her desire, her need to push it even further.
She paused. "Do you want me to?"
"What?" he panted.
"Stop." Her movements created more friction. "Do you want me to stop? Because I'm not stopping. Not until you beg me to."
"Not in the slightest, but at this pace, I might end up making a fool of myself sooner than expected."
"Good."
Blair kissed him again.
It was starting to get uncomfortable, the stroking of her panties against her skin, and she needed him to feel it—to know how wet she was. Taking his hand, she slid it further up, pressing it against the damp fabric. It was a bold move, daring even, to relinquish that little bit of power, but they were past being shy or self-conscious. Not with each other. She bit his lip softly and moaned into his mouth, the sound he made in response almost bringing her to climax.
"I thought your stamina was one for the books," Blair teased as his eyes squeezed shut, his hand reluctantly slipping out from under her dress. "Don't tell me it fizzles out in just a few minutes."
"Do you have any idea what you're doing?"
What was she doing? Enjoying this way too much. "Me? Not a single clue, darling."
"Don't play innocent, Waldorf. I can see right through you."
"Oh, really?"
Her hands found the hem of his shirt, pulling it upwards. As soon as it was off, his lips claimed hers again, more demanding, more insistent. The taste of him, the feel of his skin, the sound of his breath mingling with hers—it was overwhelming.
In many ways, it resembled a fight, with people pushing and pulling at each other, as if the moment they paused to catch their breath, one would lose ground. The moment one dared to let their guard down, the other would claim victory. But when Blair allowed herself to savor every tiny spasm of pleasure that coursed through her body, it didn't feel like losing. It was quite the opposite.
Chuck broke the kiss just long enough to change positions, and she protested like a petulant child at the loss of contact. "Hey!"
Her back sank into the sand, the cool grains touching her where the towel didn't reach. Gross.
He smiled. "Don't worry, beautiful, I always rise to the occasion."
Blair wanted to wipe that grin off his face.
Her hand slipped between them, fingers curling around his belt. Let's see how well he does. But Chuck thwarted her attempt at control, grabbing her wrist and pinning it above her head. Damn it. The feathery touch of his fingertips left a slow trail of heat from her hand, down her arm, to her neck, sending shivers coursing through her.
Squirming under his touch as he cupped her breast, her eyelids fluttered shut, a sigh escaping her lips. Then, he stopped.
Blair considered killing him on the spot, but the thought disappeared when she opened her eyes. The look he gave her melted any thoughts of retribution.
"What?"
"I'm just admiring the view," he said. "Taking it all in."
"Taking inventory of what belongs to you?" Her brow shot up teasingly.
Chuck smiled, not rising to the bait.
"Of every inch of you I have yet to taste."
"You're just buying some time."
"That, too."
Every inch of her body burned, each touch threatening to send her spiraling into ecstasy. The kissing was driving Blair to the brink; she was soaked and desperate for release.
"Chuck," she said.
A command, a plea, Blair didn't know.
His fingers slid away from her breast and dipped beneath the fabric of her dress. As he removed her panties, the cool air kissed her bare skin. His touch was sure and purposeful, like a man on a mission. She let out a small sigh of relief.
Finally.
Blair arched into him, struggling to control herself, not sure how much more rubbing and stroking and teasing she could take. "Faster," she breathed out, the word leaving her lips like a prayer.
His eyes darkened with desire. "Would you beg, Blair?"
"Never," she shot back defiantly.
Their lips met again, hungrily capturing every moan that escaped either one of them. Fingers intensified their movements, quickening their pace and digging deeper with each stroke.
Blair felt herself slipping away, losing herself in him.
"Waldorf," he whispered. "Let go."
But before she could do just that, he abruptly pulled away. A harsh, profane curse escaped her lips. If he stopped now, she might actually kill him—or die herself. It was hard to say which would come first. Chuck Bass was either the bravest man on earth or completely out of his mind. As if to make up for it, he descended, trailing hot kisses down her neck and along her collarbone, gradually making his way to the apex of her thighs. Slowly, he positioned himself, his fingers leaving a mark on her hips as he settled between her legs.
When his lips brushed against her inner thigh, her pulse skyrocketed, and Blair was barely able to think straight.
As her body trembled, she scrambled to find something to hold onto, finally gripping the towel so tightly it almost hurt.
Fuck.
It didn't stop there. His hands gently spread her legs wider. Then, he put his tongue to work, but instead of applying the direct pressure she craved, it began a soft, languid exploration.
Torture. Exquisite, maddening torture.
Blair wasn't sure what she was expecting. He would never change.
And she didn't want him to.
"If you don't…" she managed to gasp out.
"You've never been one for patience, have you?" he growled.
Words failed her. She could only writhe beneath him, lost in the pleasure he was inflicting as he resumed his meticulous ministrations. Gone was all tenderness; he now ravished her like a man possessed. His mouth latched onto her clit, tongue tracing patterns that sent her spiraling, fingers plunging inside her, their rhythm relentless.
Pressure built. Faster. Harder. More intense… Blair's hand left the towel, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, urging him to finish what he started.
God, she was so close.
The orgasm hit like a lightning strike, a scream tearing from her throat. For a moment, her vision went white, her body liquefying under the onslaught of pleasure.
Her left leg shook uncontrollably as his other hand tried to hold her in place while he let her ride it out.
Blair buzzed from head to toe, the intensity of her release leaving her breathless.
Time seemed to blur together, whether minutes or mere seconds, Blair couldn't quite tell. She lay there, panting, as Chuck withdrew from between her legs and settled down beside her. Blinking slowly, she tried to regain her senses.
His lips curved into a smirk as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You okay?" he asked.
Her chest still rose and fell with uneven breaths. "Shut up."
"I wouldn't want you to pass out on me."
"You're such an arrogant prick."
Chuck leaned in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her lips.
Blair melted into him, tasting herself, and she found that the intimacy of such an act turned her on quite a bit. In truth, quite didn't even begin to cover it. Hot waves of arousal pulsed through her abdomen once again, and her thighs clenched together, desperate for some sort of friction as her tongue battled with his. How long could this go on?
When Chuck tried to break the kiss, Blair deepened it further, unwilling to let go. This was Chuck—complex, maddening, and utterly irresistible. Forever. It could go on forever.
Needing more, she circled his neck and pulled him closer, urging him fully against her. Her motions were wild and unpolished as she snapped their hips together, trying to use any part of his body to satisfy the growing, throbbing ache between her legs.
He let out a small, tormented moan that startled her out of her reverie. That wasn't fair, now. Unlike him, she had already managed to come.
Life wasn't fair, though.
Chuck pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. "I mean it," he insisted. "Are you okay?"
He was straining against the confines of his pants, so hard he had to be past all possible physical comfort.
"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked. "I didn't peg you as the insecure type."
"Your foot, Blair."
She laughed. Was he serious? No, he had to be joking. Of all the things Chuck Bass could fret about at a time like this, her foot couldn't be one of them.
Blair wiggled it; the pain was fading fast, nothing more than a mild twist. The cold water had worked wonders, making what had once been a big deal the least of her worries.
What was a twisted foot compared to the intensity of the most mind-blowing orgasm?
"Blair," he persisted.
"What?"
"Is it okay?"
Her fingers ran lazily down his chest, trying to shift the focus. "Has anyone ever told you that you talk way too much?"
"Talking is a talent, Blair. So is distracting me. Guess which one you're better at."
She continued her exploration. "Relax, my ankle is fine."
He still had way too many clothes on.
For a moment, Chuck seemed lost in the pressure of her nails, but he swiftly refocused. "Are you sure?"
"Are you seriously obsessing over that right now?"
"Answer."
"I'm perfectly fine," she insisted, leaning closer, her breath hot against his ear. "But you won't be if you don't shut up."
"Do you think it's swollen?"
Blair huffed and dropped her head into the towel. "You're doing this on purpose."
"We should really compress it to prevent any issues."
"Stop being a smart-ass. It doesn't suit you."
"You love it."
"Right now, I really don't."
"You can't blame a guy for wanting to take care of you, can you?"
"Watch me."
He leaned over and planted a quick peck on her lips before sitting back down on the sand. It was just a brush, barely a touch, but it reignited the fire inside her. He reached for his discarded shirt lying nearby, grasped a fistful of fabric, and with a hard tug, tore off a long strip.
The muscles in his arms bulged and tensed with effort. "Thankfully, this one's seen better days."
"What are you doing?"
"Should I use your pretty dress instead?"
Her protest was immediate. "Don't you dare."
"Maybe your soaked lingerie then," he suggested.
Blair shot him a look. "And whose fault is that exactly?"
He chuckled. "This is all we've got. You'll owe me for ruining a perfectly good shirt later, by the way."
"The house is right there. You are ridicu—"
Chuck ripped another strip from the shirt, the sound of the torn fabric loud in the otherwise quiet beach. Each rip made Blair's breath catch, her eyes glued to the way his muscles flexed and relaxed with controlled force.
The thought of those same hands, those same arms, doing the exact same thing to her dress crossed her mind.
Briefly.
Blair found herself biting her lip, a gesture that did not go unnoticed.
"Is the way I ripped my shirt off really getting you that hot and bothered? Seriously?"
She blushed but didn't deny it. "Not going to apologize for that."
"I'm not asking you to."
"It's kind of hot." Her admission was breathless, her cheeks flushed.
His grin grew wider, smug and infuriatingly self-assured. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.
And the worst part? It worked. Blair was undeniably turned on, and he could see it all over her face. His self-satisfied smirk made it clear he had hit the mark perfectly.
Tossing the ruined shirt strips aside without even using them, he stood up and offered her his hand. "Let's go."
"Stop right there."
"I'm not staying here all night."
"You haven't finished what you started."
"Oh, I did finish," he stated. "Then you started something you couldn't quite finish yourself."
"Because you didn't let me."
"You just hate losing, don't you?"
Taking his hand, she got to her feet. "Darling, did I lose? Or did you?"
That shut him up. Good. Maybe going back wouldn't be so bad after all. Imagine sinking into soft sheets instead of dealing with all this damn sand. Sand, sand, sand, and more sand. It was getting into everything. And she definitely needed to change out of this dress. Or maybe not, because if he thought she was done with him, he had another thing coming. They were not done. Not even close.
Blair put her foot down and, despite the pang of discomfort, she pushed through. It really wasn't that bad.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
Well, if they were heading back to the beach house, Blair was going to make the walk as torturous for him as possible. "I can't," she lied.
Maybe he believed her, maybe he didn't, but Chuck picked her up and carried her anyway.
The pretense of Blair not being able to walk evaporated the moment they crossed the threshold. There was only so much a guy like Chuck could take, and having her bite and suck at his neck, her hands roaming over his chest after their little show on the beach, proved just that.
They kissed and kissed and kissed. He stumbled as they made their way through the hallway. Was it the hallway? He pinned her against the wall. Which one? Her hand teased him over his pants, making him whisper her name. Her last name. Had they made it upstairs? Their mouths never parted, their kisses growing more desperate as they moved from one part of the house to another.
Her lips were swollen and tender, but she didn't stop.
The click of the door closing behind them made her jump and brought her back to the present, though she had no recollection of how they had made it to his bedroom.
Did it really matter?
Hardly a heartbeat had passed before Chuck was on her, shoving her up against the door. Reality hit hard and fast—way too fast, charged with the brutal, greedy hunger in his eyes. All attempts at restraint were a distant memory, though Blair knew he would stop if she asked. Not that she wanted him to, anyway.
They were here, together, and any doubts had long since left her mind.
Why resist feeling this good?
His lips traced a path down her neck, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin. She gasped, her head tilting back and knocking lightly against the wood. His teeth lightly grazed her collarbone, and Blair let out a soft moan.
"Bed," she ordered. "Now."
He clicked his tongue in response.
Chuck turned her over, pressing harder against her, his hand sliding up her thigh, bunching up her dress. He nipped at the nape of her neck, his other hand tangled in her hair, pulling gently. His breath was hot against her skin as he whispered, "Not yet."
Blair shivered as his hand moved higher, slipping under her dress to caress the bare skin of her hip. He pushed her dress further up, and she felt his fingers brushing against her most sensitive spot. She arched her back.
"You like that?" he murmured, his voice low and rough.
Blair gasped again, louder this time, her nails digging into the wooden door for support. "I hate you."
He chuckled, his lips now at her ear. "No, you don't."
She didn't.
"You're such a tease," he continued.
That was enough.
Blair twisted her body, slipping out from between him and the door to face him. "Take off your pants."
"God, I love it when you get bossy," he growled, his voice low and throaty, his eyes darker than ever.
She pulled back just enough to slide her hands down and unbuckle his belt. Then, what if… Blair yanked the belt free and looped it around his neck, pulling him hard against her. Their mouths collided, and a muffled groan escaped his lips.
"You have no idea how bossy I can get."
She released the belt, letting it fall to the floor with a clank. Tracing his lips with her fingers, she then slipped them into his mouth, her own lips parting slightly in anticipation. After he sucked on her digits, she replaced them with her tongue, trailing her now wet fingers down his chest until Blair reached his pants. Without a second thought, she undid the button, and the fabric loosened, allowing her hands to slide inside and feel the smooth, hot skin beneath.
God, what was happening to her? What had rendered her into this?
His breath hitched as she stroked him, her actions uncertain but fueled by his pleasurable sighs. Then, his hand was there, helping her, guiding her. Blair tuned into his body, adjusting her rhythm to match his growing arousal.
"You're incredible," he said after a while, completely out of breath.
"Chuck…"
"What?"
"Stop talking."
They separated briefly so he could pull her dress over her head.
Once he stripped off all her clothes, Blair paused, feeling the chill of the air against her bare skin. There she was, naked before him. But Chuck was too busy running his hands over her body to notice anything else. To spare time for any mockery or criticism. Then, he looked at her, really looked at her.
Why had she ever thought he might not like her when he seemed ready to devour her like a feast? In another moment, self-consciousness might have swallowed her whole, but not now.
Blair was an overstimulated mess at this point. Enough touching—she needed release.
Chuck seemed to read her mind as he carried her to the bed and positioned himself over her. He pulled his pants and boxers out of the way, completely freeing his cock, and Blair bit her lower lip. With him hovering above her, breathing hard, she had the chance to really take him in. Flames spread through her body.
As she prepared for him, she closed her eyes. This was it. Really it. The culmination of everything. However, a tortured whimper left her as his fingers brushed over her swollen clit, applying only the lightest of pressures.
That was not it.
"No," Blair shook her head. "No more foreplay. I need…"
"What do you need?"
"Either you fuck me now or… or…" she gasped as he applied more pressure, "I'll kill you."
She slapped his damn hand away. "Believe me."
"Oh, I believe you."
He paused for a moment, locking eyes with her as if asking for permission. In the overwhelming heat and inability to think clearly, Blair's eyes burned with every blink and her heart swelled tenfold, almost painfully.
Unable to form a coherent response, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Kissed him with wild abandon.
"Tell me," he demanded.
"What?"
"Tell me you want this."
That made her nod.
Did she want this? Did she burn for him to fuck her senseless?
Yes.
Did she want him to cherish her until his dying breath?
The answer had always been a resounding yes.
When Chuck looked at her again, there was a feverish hunger in his eyes, and something else—something almost prideful.
His arm extended to his nightstand, and it took her a few seconds to realize why.
"We don't need it," Blair said bluntly.
"But…"
Chuck looked at her, puzzled, so she explained in a hushed tone, "I'm on the pill."
His brow furrowed slightly.
With her eating disorder, her period was a real bitch.
Blair didn't want to get into the details. Not right now. "It helps with my cycles," she added, hoping he'd understand.
He withdrew his hand from the drawer, and she was grateful they didn't have to say more.
Then it struck her. Pregnancy was not the only reason to use protection.
"Are you clean?" she asked.
"I'm clean," he assured her.
She trusted him enough to know he wouldn't put her in danger. "Good."
To regain momentum, he kissed her deeply, their lips locking in a fervent, hungry embrace. Without breaking their kiss, he guided his cock to her entrance, teasing but not entering.
She was pulsing, swollen, burning with need. It felt so good. So incredibly good. He teased her, his tip brushing against her heat, sending shivers of pleasure through her body. As she moved against him, his own movements mirrored hers, their bodies in perfect sync. Skin against skin, the friction knocking all the air out of her lungs.
The orgasm built up without any warning.
He wrapped his lips around the pebbled peak of her breast and sucked hard. Blair almost cried out loud, arching her back and bucking against him.
Chuck's breath hitched, and he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and intense. It was as if he was getting off just by watching her. "Blair," he murmured, his voice rough and ragged.
"Don't stop," she whispered. "Please."
The sounds of her pleasure kept him going. He increased his pace until she reached her peak. The tension inside her coiled tighter and tighter until she couldn't hold back any longer.
Jesus.
It felt as though he sought absolution through her pleasure, tirelessly bringing her to climax again and again.
Blair opened her eyes. "I thought we agreed, no more foreplay."
"You make it impossible to resist, Waldorf. Plus, that was not foreplay."
"That's not the point."
"You said don't stop, so I was just obeying orders."
"You're quite the expert at selective hearing, aren't you?"
"Exactly," he replied nonchalantly.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked.
Why had she come twice that night while he was denying himself the same pleasure?
"I just want to make you happy," he replied.
"You do make me happy, you know? But you know what would make me even happier? If you let yourself go."
When would he understand that her happiness meant his too?
Blair grabbed him, feeling his hardness, wet and leaking, ready for her. Her hand moved over him, a slick glide that made his hips buck against her touch.
"Get to work," she instructed.
Then, he took over.
Serena had warned Blair that the first time would hurt, that it wouldn't all be pleasant, and that she needed to get over it quickly to experience the real thing. So, Blair pressed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the pain.
"Blair," Chuck called softly. "Open your eyes."
She complied.
As he entered her, his eyes never left hers. Blair tensed, letting him fill her. It was strange, foreign, but not bad. He moved slowly and steadily, his touch gentle, and she gradually relaxed against him. Blair waited for the excruciating pain, a pain that didn't really come. Instead, it was more of a discomfort—a fleeting pang that soon faded into something else.
Oh.
So, that was…
Oh.
"Does that feel good?" he asked.
"Yes."
He began to move a little faster, and her body responded instinctively, her walls clenching around him so tightly that his eyes rolled back. His breathing turned erratic, each exhale a testament to the pleasure he was experiencing. There was something maddeningly arousing about Chuck losing himself so completely.
Each thrust was smoother than the last as he quickened his pace. Once she settled into the rhythm, she wrapped one leg around his waist, allowing him to go deeper. They rocked together as the tension built up in her again.
"Fuck," he groaned.
He kissed her then, a desperate, sloppy kiss that spoke of his inability to hold back any longer. He kept thrusting into her, his movements growing more urgent. Chuck called out her name, prayed a little. Hearing him unravel like that was certainly doing things to her.
She was close, so painfully close, and Blair could tell he was getting close as well. She rolled them over, taking control and positioning herself on top.
As she lowered herself onto him, she adjusted the angle just right, hitting a spot that made her absolutely insane. Blair picked up the pace, her movements driven by a desperate need for release. Just a little more. More.
She was fucking herself on him, still greedy, still not having had enough.
And then it happened. In the midst of a breath, he released into her, the tension in his body shattering in one world-shattering second as she moaned her release.
Reluctantly, she rolled off his body and lay down next to him. They stayed there for a moment, trying to catch their breath, his room heavy with the intoxicating aftermath of sex.
When their breathing steadied, Blair opened her eyes to see Chuck staring at her. He looked almost in awe, his dark eyes wide and his lips parted. She felt a blush creep up her neck, the last few hours finally sinking in and making her heart race even faster.
They had done that.
"You were…" He trailed off, shaking his head as if words failed him.
He remained silent for a beat too long.
What was happening? Had she done something wrong?
"Did the cat get your tongue?" she asked.
Chuck exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Damn, Waldorf."
Indeed.
Blair, always the perfectionist, allowed herself a moment of smug satisfaction. It didn't matter if it was an academic paper or, as it turned out, fucking him until he was completely undone, she wasn't used to anything less than flawless execution. All the i's dotted and the t's crossed. Every detail meticulously attended to. A content smile played on her lips, her eyes shining with pride and a hint of mischief.
No, she hadn't done anything wrong. Quite the opposite.
Until that night, she hadn't known how much of a kick she got out of shutting Chuck Bass up. "That good?" she teased.
"Don't get cocky. You know exactly how it was."
"Oh, I don't know. You tell me."
"You sure you haven't done this before?"
Blair playfully smacked him in the stomach with the back of her hand. "You weren't so bad yourself, I'll give you that," she conceded.
"Not so bad?" Chuck arched an eyebrow. "I think I deserve a bit more than that, Waldorf."
"Fine. You were… adequate."
He laughed, a deep, sincere laugh that was music to Blair's ears. "Adequate? I don't think the loud, wild noises you were making all night quite support that claim."
"Please, you should know by now that sounds can be deceiving. You'll have to step up your game if you want to impress me."
"Is that a challenge?"
"You bet it is."
He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow as he looked down at her, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare chest. "Well, I aim to please."
"It's certainly one of your more charming qualities," Blair replied, her tone softer now, more intimate.
"Only when it comes to you."
Her skin still prickled from his touch, but this time it was more soothing. Blair closed her eyes again, feeling herself drift toward sleep, the contentment washing over her like a cozy blanket. However, the metaphorical blanket seemed to have an opening, allowing cold air to seep through. "Chuck," she whispered.
Instinctively, she stopped his hand, holding it tightly.
"Yeah?"
It only really dawned on her now that they were lying in the same bed, in the same room, almost… When he had…
"Promise me you won't leave if I fall asleep," she blurted out, wishing she had said, 'Promise you won't ever leave me.'
Leaning closer, he spoke softly, his breath brushing against her cheek. "I promise."
It seemed illogical, to have these doubts now, after all that had been said and done. It made no sense, but then again, when has life ever truly made sense?
"I'm not going anywhere," he reiterated.
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely sure." His fingers intertwined with hers. "I'm here for as long as you'll have me. And let's face it, even if I wanted to leave, I'd only be fooling myself. You've got me completely wrapped around your finger."
"Do you want to?" she asked, needing reassurance.
His tone was firm, his eyes earnest. "No, Blair, I don't want to."
"Good." She let out a deep breath, her grip on his hand loosening. "Because I don't think I could bear it if you did."
"Well, it's a good thing you're stuck with me, then."
A lightness spread through her. "Stuck with you, huh?"
"I suppose there are worse predicaments."
"Much worse," she agreed. "Sharing a bed with Chuck Bass is actually quite tolerable."
"Is that your way of saying you enjoy my company?"
"Among other sinful pleasures."
Without warning, he leaned down and kissed her deeply.
Heat coursed through her chest, filling her with a warmth that made her feel as if she were floating. This time, it was different—soothing, like a balm to her soul. As they pulled apart, a soft, delighted chuckle escaped her lips.
Chuck arched an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"
Her face lit up with a radiant smile, one that reached her eyes and spoke volumes without the need for words. "Nothing."
"I didn't realize my efforts to set the mood were such a source of entertainment for you."
"Oh, they are entertaining enough."
"Tell me."
"It's just…"
"What? It's just what?"
"I love you," she blurted out, the words tumbling from her lips as if they'd always been there, waiting to be said.
Chuck went silent, his expression frozen as if he'd been struck by lightning.
"You know that, right?" she continued.
How could he not know?
She closed his eyes as his palm cradled her jaw, his thumb pausing midway through a gentle stroke across her cheek.
"I love you too," he said with the most devastating softness. "Isn't that the strangest thing?"
Blair wanted to cry, or kiss him, maybe even both at once.
It really wasn't the strangest thing.
Author's Note:
So, hmm. Plot? What plot? This one turned out to be quite a beast. I can only hope you enjoyed it!